boy left the room. ‘More than I imagined.’
‘Yes,’ Allen agreed. ‘It’s a mingling of different cultures. And some of them seem to stick to their old ways, rather like we do in England. Maybe it will be different in California, sir,’ he added.
‘I hope so,’ Edward murmured as he took off his shirt to wash in the cool water that Allen had poured into the porcelain basin. ‘I’d like to think that there’s more freedom there than at home.’ He took a deep breath and hoped, not for the first time, that he had done the right thing in leaving his wife and country. But I couldn’t have stayed in England without Ruby. Better that I am in a foreign land with distractions.
He looked in the gilt mirror on the wall and saw his wind-browned skin. His cheeks seemed leaner than they had been. I’ve lost weight, he thought, which is odd when I have done so much loafing around on the ship. I need some good fresh food, he decided.
‘I need a haircut, Allen,’ he said as he fastened his cravat, then smoothed his sideburns. ‘I’ll find somewhere tomorrow, and some new clothes.’
‘I’ll cut it for you when you get back, sir,’ Allen offered.
‘Good man.’ Edward picked up his cane. He didn’t need it, but he was of the opinion that he cut rather a dash when carrying one. ‘Call me a cab,’ he said. ‘And then you’d better get some rest,’ he added. ‘You look pretty rough.’
Allen lay on the bed in his room when Newmarch had gone, and closed his eyes. What to do? He couldn’t leave without money and he debated whether to take his wages out of Newmarch’s pocketbook. I’d only take what I’m due or else he’ll have the authorities onto me. And if I’m caught and he presses charges I could finish up in a stinking jail and never get out! No, I’ll wait for an opportunity, he resolved. I’ll know it when it comes.
Captain Voularis had recommended that Edward called on Señor Rodriguez, who was an eminent man in the city of New Orleans. ‘He can put opportunities your way, Mr Newmarch,’ the captain had said, ‘there is no-one better.’ Edward, always looking for the easiest route to opportunity, decided he would call.
He told the cab driver the address and they travelled over unmade muddy roads until they came to the wrought-iron gates of the house, where a guard and a dog patrolled inside.
Edward passed his card to the guard, on which he had written the name of the hotel and Captain Voularis’ name. ‘My compliments to Señor Rodriguez. If I might have the privilege of paying him a visit, at his convenience.’
He climbed back into the chaise and asked the driver to return along the levee. The evening had cooled and the residents were coming out of their houses and businesses and were socializing along the riverbanks. Hundreds of ships for as far as his eyes could see were moored along the Mississippi, with the flatboats and broadhorns slipped between.
He heard music from fiddles and pipes and the sound of drumbeat. On the decks of some of the ships, girls and men were dancing. He tapped the driver on his shoulder. ‘Those ladies down there.’ He pointed with his cane to where two honey-coloured young women were walking with an elderly Negress. ‘What would they be, Spanish? Mexican?’
The driver glanced down towards them, then shrugged. ‘Quadroon,’ he said. ‘Mixed blood. Mebbe Spanish, Mexican or French. Their granddaddy or grandmammy would have been Negro anyway, but they ain’t pure black like me!’
‘So, will they be free citizens?’ Edward asked. ‘Or are they servants?’ He found he couldn’t bring himself to say slaves.
‘Could be, sir, if they’ve been given their freedom. Some Europeans, even in New Orleans, don’t keep slaves.’ He gave a deep chuckle. ‘Time’s a coming when we’ll all be free, but there’ll be a fight all right: North and South will git blood on their hands.’
Edward sat back and contemplated. It was such a perfect evening.
‘Yes,’ Allen agreed. ‘It’s a mingling of different cultures. And some of them seem to stick to their old ways, rather like we do in England. Maybe it will be different in California, sir,’ he added.
‘I hope so,’ Edward murmured as he took off his shirt to wash in the cool water that Allen had poured into the porcelain basin. ‘I’d like to think that there’s more freedom there than at home.’ He took a deep breath and hoped, not for the first time, that he had done the right thing in leaving his wife and country. But I couldn’t have stayed in England without Ruby. Better that I am in a foreign land with distractions.
He looked in the gilt mirror on the wall and saw his wind-browned skin. His cheeks seemed leaner than they had been. I’ve lost weight, he thought, which is odd when I have done so much loafing around on the ship. I need some good fresh food, he decided.
‘I need a haircut, Allen,’ he said as he fastened his cravat, then smoothed his sideburns. ‘I’ll find somewhere tomorrow, and some new clothes.’
‘I’ll cut it for you when you get back, sir,’ Allen offered.
‘Good man.’ Edward picked up his cane. He didn’t need it, but he was of the opinion that he cut rather a dash when carrying one. ‘Call me a cab,’ he said. ‘And then you’d better get some rest,’ he added. ‘You look pretty rough.’
Allen lay on the bed in his room when Newmarch had gone, and closed his eyes. What to do? He couldn’t leave without money and he debated whether to take his wages out of Newmarch’s pocketbook. I’d only take what I’m due or else he’ll have the authorities onto me. And if I’m caught and he presses charges I could finish up in a stinking jail and never get out! No, I’ll wait for an opportunity, he resolved. I’ll know it when it comes.
Captain Voularis had recommended that Edward called on Señor Rodriguez, who was an eminent man in the city of New Orleans. ‘He can put opportunities your way, Mr Newmarch,’ the captain had said, ‘there is no-one better.’ Edward, always looking for the easiest route to opportunity, decided he would call.
He told the cab driver the address and they travelled over unmade muddy roads until they came to the wrought-iron gates of the house, where a guard and a dog patrolled inside.
Edward passed his card to the guard, on which he had written the name of the hotel and Captain Voularis’ name. ‘My compliments to Señor Rodriguez. If I might have the privilege of paying him a visit, at his convenience.’
He climbed back into the chaise and asked the driver to return along the levee. The evening had cooled and the residents were coming out of their houses and businesses and were socializing along the riverbanks. Hundreds of ships for as far as his eyes could see were moored along the Mississippi, with the flatboats and broadhorns slipped between.
He heard music from fiddles and pipes and the sound of drumbeat. On the decks of some of the ships, girls and men were dancing. He tapped the driver on his shoulder. ‘Those ladies down there.’ He pointed with his cane to where two honey-coloured young women were walking with an elderly Negress. ‘What would they be, Spanish? Mexican?’
The driver glanced down towards them, then shrugged. ‘Quadroon,’ he said. ‘Mixed blood. Mebbe Spanish, Mexican or French. Their granddaddy or grandmammy would have been Negro anyway, but they ain’t pure black like me!’
‘So, will they be free citizens?’ Edward asked. ‘Or are they servants?’ He found he couldn’t bring himself to say slaves.
‘Could be, sir, if they’ve been given their freedom. Some Europeans, even in New Orleans, don’t keep slaves.’ He gave a deep chuckle. ‘Time’s a coming when we’ll all be free, but there’ll be a fight all right: North and South will git blood on their hands.’
Edward sat back and contemplated. It was such a perfect evening.
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