A Heart Set Free Read online

  “Do you mind if I ask you about your faith, Sara?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Please do not misunderstand me. I can see you are a very religious woman. It is, well, you speak of Jesus ... it is as if He is your friend, someone you converse with ... right here.” She waved her hands in front. “I think of Jesus as the Son of God, and someone I worship and pray to, but not here.”

  Sara’s smile was like a balm. “I understand what you mean, Heather. Years ago, I believed what I was taught about God and Jesus. I attended services, prayed, and tried to do and say the right things. But whenever I fell short of my expectations, I suffered guilt that I was never good enough. When John and I married, he explained to me that believing in the Lord was but one part of faith—that I also needed to receive Him in here.” Sara patted her chest. “He became more than my Savior, who would forgive me my trespasses when I died. He forgives me whenever I go to Him with a repentant heart. It is the Holy Ghost that I carry with me everywhere. He brings my sins to my conscience when I have erred. He is my comforter, teacher, and yes, my friend. My faith has changed from being a religion to a relationship.” Sara reached over and squeezed her hand. “Does that help to answer your question?”

  There was such peace in Sara’s face, something Heather had experienced little of lately. “Aye. You have certainly given me much to think about.”

  “If you have more questions, I am here.”

  The conditions below deck were abysmal. It was crowded and offered little privacy. The air was musty and the stench nauseating. The passage seemed never-ending. Days turned into weeks, and the abundance of time without activity allowed Heather’s mind to wander. At night, when talking ceased and sleep was elusive, painful memories and fear replaced the boredom.

  She needed to focus on the future. Freedom. It would be seven years before she would experience it again. There was no way to turn back. Nay, she did not really want to go back. Whatever awaited her had to be better than what she had left behind. When she signed the indenture, the agent told her that upon completion of her seven years of service, she would be free and receive a small parcel of land for her own. Aye, it was a wise choice to leave Scotland and her past, with all its losses, behind.

  A rustle interrupted her musings. The dim light of a nearby lantern accentuated the peaceful expression on Sara’s face as she tucked the blanket around her girls, now sleeping soundly. “It will be grand to finally reach Virginia. Andrew says we will love living there.”

  “As much as I want to get off this ship, I fear what lies ahead for me.”

  “Heather, was what you left in Scotland so bad? When you told me why you indentured yourself, it almost sounded as if you were trying to escape something. Did I misunderstand you?”

  Heather’s stomach clenched. “I needed to leave. I was without resources, and there was an unjust scandal brewing about me.” As close as she had grown to Sara, she was not ready to reveal more about her life or her mistakes. “Now, tell me again about John’s brother. You said he and his family live south of Alexandria. Does he live in town, or in the country?”

  Sara’s smile suggested she saw through the ploy. “Andrew and Rebecca live in Fredericksburg. He is involved with commerce along a nearby river. Living with John’s family in Fredericksburg will provide the best possible situation for us.”

  The following day, a violent storm engulfed the Providence. Heather grasped the edge of her pallet to keep from rolling off each time the square-rigger pitched and rolled. Fierce winds and torrential rain thrashed the creaking vessel. The sound of ill passengers shouting and screaming from the violent buffeting made her cringe. The stench turned her stomach. She held a handkerchief to her nose, but it did little good. She prayed her dry heaves would not return.

  Earlier that day, the crew member who brought their daily ration of water indicated that the captain and his mates were struggling to keep the ship upright and on course. Some passengers only stared at him. Others shouted pleas or hostile words.

  Bile filled her throat. The sick relieved themselves wherever they could, and any sense of modesty had long been lost.

  Her stomach heaved again, and she covered her mouth. She closed her eyes, trying to mentally escape her present circumstances. If only she could change the events that had brought her to this merchant vessel. But the past would not be altered.

  Was it seven or eight weeks now they had been at sea? It was difficult to keep track. She had counted the days at first, but once so many people became ill, she stopped. What purpose did it serve?

  She scratched herself and picked what she suspected were weevils from the hardtack. Think about something else, Heather, not about the desire for a decent meal, or for a drink of cool, clean water—and certainly not for a bath.

  She recalled those last days at home filled with hurt, confusion, disillusionment, and the need to escape. Indenturing herself had been an impulsive decision, and she was not an impulsive person. But she had found no work as a seamstress those few days spent in Edinburgh. She had no prospects of employment and no money, and the scandal was sure to become known. It had seemed the wisest choice at the time. All her hopes rested in the life she would find in Virginia. It was foolhardy to dwell on matters she was powerless to change.

  When the rolling of the ship finally subsided, she folded her legs under her. She glanced down to her soiled woolen dress. Pathetic. It had been a handsome frock once. Now it needed more than thread to mend the tears. The calico dress in her satchel was just as filthy.

  Her eyes burned from the acrid air as she gazed around at the other passengers. At the onset of the voyage, they numbered ninety; now only seventy-two remained. They moaned in agony. The foul stench of so many—their sweat, waste, and vomit—was enough to turn any stomach, even in a calmer sea. Heather looked forward to the days when the passengers were allowed on deck to walk about, enjoy the sunlight, and breathe fresh air.

  As Sara and her girls climbed off the ladder to the deck with Heather, the wind whipped at their cloaks and skirts. The children were steered to an area amidships where they could play safely. The adults were grateful for the opportunity to walk upright. She and Sara drank in the fresh cool air but did not allow their gazes to stray far from the girls.

  She tapped Sara’s arm when she spotted the sailor in the blue patched shirt ogling them.

  Sara turned her way. “Ignore him, Heather. Smell that fresh sea breeze. I was beginning to wonder if we would ever get out here again.”

  “Aye. My thoughts also.”

  Sara’s brow furrowed. “The deaths of the Maxwell children were heartbreaking. My girls played with them, and I am concerned that they might take ill.” Sara bit her lip and pulled her cloak tighter across her bodice as she glanced in the direction of the girls. “Katie has been so quiet today.”

  Heather placed her hand on Sara’s back. “The turn around the deck will do us all good. Exercise and sunshine have always perked us up before.”

  Fighting the wind, Sara gathered her hood around her face. “I had no idea how we would be berthed and fed or how confining it would be for the girls. I fear for them above all else.”

  Heather squeezed Sara’s hand and pointed to the sailor approaching them. “He is following us again.” She shuddered, and a lump formed in her throat. She took Sara’s arm and steered her toward the area where the girls were seated with the other children. The youngsters were enthralled by three sailors playing on wooden hornpipes. But far too soon, they were ushered below to what had become their prison.

  The next day, the crew began to ration water as the demand for it grew. Below deck, people were growing restless and worried. Hostility and fear were becoming as virulent as the fever among the passengers. Each day, more of the passengers were taken ill with dysentery and fever. The disease was taking its toll on all, particularly the children. A few days before, two more children had died after days of suffering from a rash and fever. Day after day, bodies were given up to t
he sea. Even the crew appeared anxious about the spreading calamity. Some of the sailors who distributed the hardtack and water and removed the slops were overheard saying that there had been more fever on this trip than they had seen on other crossings.

  Once again on deck, Heather stared out on the green swells. The breeze against her face revived her after days and nights of grieving. The last week had been the worst of the voyage. Why, oh why, Lord?

  Katie had taken ill like so many others onboard. While Sara nursed the feverish child, Heather had kept Emily as distant as possible. On the second day of Katie’s illness, the pestilence also struck Emily. To bring down their fevers, the two women bathed the girls day and night with their meager supply of water. Weak and exhausted, Sara, too, finally fell ill. Heather faithfully cared for her friend.

  Emily and Katie died within two days of each other. Sara lingered two more days before dying.

  I will miss you so, Sara—your wisdom, your kindness, your unwavering faith. We prayed, Lord. Where were You?

  She would not dwell on it now. It was too painful. She had to think about the future. Land had been sighted low on the horizon, and now she saw it too. Gulls squawked as she took one last glimpse at the sky before heading back to the hold. It would not be long now. They were in the Bay of Chesapoyocke, close to the Potomack. Ahead, somewhere out there, was the port town of Alexandria and her future.

  CHAPTER 2

  The horse-drawn wagon picked up speed as it turned off the dirt road and onto the cobblestone street. Every time Matthew Stewart came to Alexandria, he was reminded of the constant activity that surrounded this busy river port. The sounds of carriages, commerce, and voices here were such a contrast to a mere twenty miles west, where his small farm was one among many that dotted the rolling, wooded countryside. His spirits picked up. They always did when he came to town. Adam and Maggie Duncan were more than friends, and seeing them was exactly what he needed now.

  The days on the farm were filled with work. It was the evening hours that brought on despair. The emptiness and silence of the farmhouse became unbearable then. He could remember days when it was filled with love and joy—a wife and children. For a moment, he closed his eyes in an effort to push back memories of Elizabeth. He shook his head. No, do not think about what is lost. Be grateful and focus on today. He would see Mary and Mark again, if only for a short time.

  On a footpath to his left, a family laughed and chatted as they climbed the steps to a large brick home. Heaviness rose in his chest. Seeing his children occasionally was not enough. He wanted his children with him. But how? It was foolhardy to try to take care of children so young without help. He turned the wagon onto Fairfax Street.

  The sun climbed higher in the sky, and the heat intensified. Spring had arrived with a vengeance. The thunderstorms of the past few days, and now the heat, made the atmosphere oppressive and muggy. Warm days like this were rare in early spring. The freshly washed osnaburg shirt he had put on that morning was already soaked with perspiration. He wiped his brow and placed the black three-cornered hat back on his head. His hair was damp despite being tied back in a club. A common planter, he dressed more simply than many of the gentlemen in town.

  The jug of water he brought had been emptied miles ago. He longed for Maggie’s cooking and a cool drink. He missed the delicious home-cooked meals he had once enjoyed. “Oronoko Street and the ‘clan’ are just around the corner, Honey.” He tugged the reins to the right, steering the old horse ever closer to their destination. It would not be long now.

  He pulled the wagon up in front of the modest brick house just as the Duncans’ oldest son, Donald, bounded out the front door. Not far behind was his mother, Maggie, now heavy with child. Smiling and waving, she carried Cameron, the youngest of the three Duncan children, straddling what was left of her hip.

  “Matthew Stewart, what a joy to see you. Adam is around back. Wait till I tell him you are here. And the children ... oh, how they have been missin’ you.”

  Maggie’s enthusiasm always charmed him, and this time was no different. But her tired appearance brought on a twinge of guilt. It was no wonder. She cared for a home and five children and now had another on the way. Homemaking and childrearing required effort and energy. He had become well acquainted with such tasks in the weeks following Elizabeth’s death.

  “Maggie, you are a sight, but a good one.” He climbed down from the wagon. The sound of running feet and a little girl’s voice made him turn.

  “Papa, Papa. I hoped you would come today!” Mary ran toward him with outstretched arms.

  He knelt on one knee and wrapped his arms around the child. The touch of her warm, soft cheek and small arms encircling his neck both warmed and saddened him. It was not easy to let her go.

  “I have missed you so, Mary. Here, let me see you.” He held her at arm’s length.

  The last year had brought a marked change in her. She was no longer the giggling little miss with dimples and chubby arms. Mary, now nine, had grown into a taller, thinner, and much more mature girl. In spite of her serious nature, she could still apply her charms when it suited her.

  She smiled. “Papa, come see my duckling in back. Mark has one too.”

  He stood. At that moment, a small boy of four shot out from behind the house, grinning and shrieking. “Papa, Papa, Papa, you are here!”

  He leaned down and tousled his son’s dark, wavy hair. “How is my fine boy? Have you been good for Mrs. Duncan?”

  “Oh, yes, Papa. We have ducks.” Mark’s eyes and voice filled with mirth. “Come see them.”

  “Let me give Honey some oats, you two, and I shall come around back.”

  He smiled and turned once more to the woman still at his side. “Thank you for being so good to them, Maggie. They seem to be faring very well.”

  “Aye, I think so too. Now do not tarry with the nag, Matthew. There is a meat pie inside waiting for you.”

  “I will see to Honey, wash the road dust off, and join you.”

  “Aye, but not before I get my hug.” She shifted the child in her arms and gave Matthew a gentle squeeze as he leaned down to buss her cheek.

  “Are there goings on out here, and with my wife, in the middle of the day?” Adam’s jovial voice came from around the side of the house.

  He smiled at the portly, balding man. “Adam, were it possible to steal your wife and get away with it, I would surely try.”

  “Sure. Sure you would, Matt, and me bairns too? And would it not be a fine joke, us fighting over them? I may not match you in height, but I daresay I outweigh you. You are gettin’ too thin, man.” Adam glanced from his friend to his wife. “Maggie, be the love that you are and fix dinner for this starved, scrawny bag of bones.”

  “Aye, it will be ready shortly, so do not be chattering out here long.” Maggie turned and lumbered up the steps, children following.

  Matthew laughed and watched them parade inside, the mother duck followed by her ducklings.

  Adam reached up and patted the horse’s neck. “Matt, we can go down and put your supply order in after dinner. I would enjoy the walk, and besides, you must see all the ships in port. I am sure that you will find anything you might want among all the wares being peddled there.”

  “I sensed that there was something astir as I came into town.” He saw to the horse, took a wooden crate from the wagon, and handed it to his friend. “Here, a few things from the farm that you might use.”

  “That is mighty good of you. Maggie will be pleased too.”

  “Good of me? It is hardly enough for all that you and yours are doing for me, Adam.”

  As they walked into the house, he smiled at Maggie. “Mmm, something smells delicious in here. Feed me like this and you may end up with me a boarder too.” He handed Mark the damp hat as he sat at the table that dominated the room.

  Mark pranced around the room. This was what a home should be: a man, a woman, and rooms filled with the sounds of happy children.

  Mary
crawled up onto his lap. “Oh, Father, would you stay?”

  “No, dear, I shall be leaving again after I pick up the supplies, same as usual.” He brushed the loose strands of hair from her face. If only she understood.

  “Papa, please stay.” Mark, with his dark hair tied back in a club, was a smaller version of his father.

  “I have told you before. I must work the farm, and the animals must be cared for. I cannot be gone too long.”

  “Please, may we go home with you?” Mary tugged on his shirt.

  Mark snuggled in beside him. “I want to go home. I want to be with Papa too.”

  He stared at Mark for what seemed a long time. Heaviness filled his chest. How might he make them understand how he ached each time he left them? He had no choice. The children had to be cared for, and the Duncans’ offer to take them in had been a blessing.

  He and his children joined the Duncans gathered around the table for dinner. How would he ever repay Adam and Maggie for all they had done for his family?

  As they bowed their heads and folded their hands, Adam began the blessing. “We thank You, Lord, for all You have given us. We ask for Your blessings on our food and time together. May it nourish our bodies and strengthen us for Your service. Amen.”

  Adam devoured the meat pie on his plate. “Ah, this is tasty.” He reached for the basket of bread. “Maggie, my dear, Matt and I will leave for the wharf and Brady’s after dinner. May I get you anything?”

  “Nay, I shall be going down there tomorrow. The merchants have so much that is new, and I must see it for myself.”

  When dinner was over, Adam walked to the mantle and picked up his pipe and bag of tobacco. “One of the ships has a cargo of indentureds to be sold off.”