Chapter 19 #2
“Are you going to stay on this beach all day, or would you like to join us at the mission?” someone asked.
It was the warrior-woman from the Maelstrom.
She had just gotten off one of the boats with Graham.
For some reason, I felt guilty when I saw him.
Should I have looked for him as soon as I awoke?
Instead, I was focused on getting to shore.
He was at the boat, lifting out a crate.
He shouldn’t be doing that with his injuries.
Before I said something, however, Nathaniel Ward aided him.
I watched for a moment before speaking to the woman, though I didn’t answer her question.
Her hands were on her hips as she regarded me.
“What is your name?” I asked her.
“I’m Elizabeth Jones.” For such an impressive woman, her name seemed much too common, and much too similar to my own name—Elspeth being the Scottish form of Elizabeth. She continued to watch me, I assumed to hear my answer to her original question.
I stood. “We’ll go to the mission. That is, if we’re welcome.”
She nodded. “Any friend of Slate is a friend of ours,” she said firmly.
“Especially someone who would rashly fight pirates to save him.” I could tell she held some kind of respect for me, just as the captain did.
Maybe she didn’t think I was a hero, but hopefully she at least believed I was trustworthy. “Follow me.”
Graham had already begun the ascent alongside Mr. Ward. As much as I stared, he didn’t look back to see if I followed. I had to push down my disappointment at his apparent disinterest in my existence.
Patrice took my hand, and Mr. Ashby walked beside me as we climbed up a steep incline.
The sand was deep and it was difficult to trudge through it, but we were able to do so.
Elizabeth waited for us at the top, and Graham set down the crate he and Mr. Ward had lugged up with them.
His wince worried me. Even if he did have help, he shouldn’t be carrying anything.
“Are you feeling all right?” I asked him as we crested the hill.
He only nodded, then took out a handkerchief to wipe the sweat that beaded on his forehead.
“You still have it!” I said with glee, pointing at a handkerchief I’d forgotten all about. I’d embroidered it for him. At least he’d had something extra to remember me by, even if it hadn’t jogged his memory.
He looked at it, then back at me, before sending me a guarded smile. “Thank ye. It’s come in handy more than once.”
I grinned at him. There wasn’t much more to say, but it brought me a surge of happiness. He averted his eyes, and I looked back at Patrice. She sent an encouraging, though hesitant, smile.
Mr. Ward took hold of his side of the crate, and Graham bent down to pick up his.
Before he could wrap his hand around the handle, however, Mr. Ashby intercepted it.
“I’ll take it the rest of the way, Graham.
You’re injured,” he said. Graham didn’t argue.
That told me he was in much more pain than he admitted. Thank goodness for Mr. Ashby.
We walked for a quarter of a mile and then came upon a hill.
When we reached the top, an enormous farm—I believed the term was plantation in the West Indies—came into view.
It was large and hidden in a valley. No one would be able to see it from the bay or the ocean beyond.
We stood there for a few moments, taking it all in.
In the center of the farm sat a large white house with a covered porch that wrapped around the building, held up by large white pillars.
It was charming, though just as large as an average estate home in Scotland.
“That is the big house. Over on the far south side of the estate is the mission. All the workers here are free people. Mary Bowers transitioned away from enslaving the workers as soon as the African slave trade was abolished; she is the only planter on St. Kitts who has done so, much to the irritation of the other planters. Most of the people stayed to work the land, but some left the island to live in whatever way they chose. Those who are no longer enslaved from other islands find us in one way or another as well to join the mission. The profits from the crop is how Mary supports the mission and the Maelstrom.” Elizabeth waved a hand as she introduced the place to us. It was impressive to say the least.
I had so many questions, but I thought I’d start with something simple. “Is this all sugarcane?” I knew next to nothing about crops, but I knew where we got most of our sugar.
“Yes, mostly,” Graham answered from beside Elizabeth.
“But we have to support the mission, too, so we also farm vegetables and fruits and raise livestock.” He spoke as if it had always been his home.
Then I realized that, to him, it was the only home he knew.
The thought saddened me. He’d forgotten all about Scotland, his true home.
It would be a constant struggle to hold back my tears.
They were prickling at my eyes now and I blinked to ignore them.
“Shall we?” Elizabeth said. We followed her toward the big house.
I couldn’t fathom what we’d find there, other than the woman called Mary Bowers.
Based on the picture Elizabeth had painted of her, I didn’t think she would turn us away, but would she welcome us?
Would we be able to stay in the big house?
Or would we be banished to the Maelstrom?
I greatly wished to sleep in a house rather than a ship.
I could only hope this Mary Bowers was as generous as she was kind.