Honor (16 page)

He now stood in a crude building near the wharf in a neighborhood called Little Africa. It was the African church Royale had attended, though nothing but a rough wooden cross hanging on the back wall looked church-like. At that moment he would have given anything to be able to hear what was being said. In the center of the room crowded with Quakers and free blacks, he and Honor were surrounded by a huddle of men, including that young Quaker, Coxswain, and the black preacher, Brother Ezekiel Langston.

Samuel focused on his wife’s moving hand. She stood within the circle and tried to keep him included in the exchange. Samuel suppressed his feelings of being of little use. His own needs weren’t important now. He had to focus on getting Royale and Eli back.

Honor turned to him, her expression one of despair. “Brother Ezekiel has called for men to hide in the shadows all along the wharf. They think that the slave catchers will wait till nightfall and then spirit her onto a boat to take her downriver to the Mississippi. She might be drugged, they say.”

“What about Eli?”

“They may take him, too. He can identify them.” Her fingers faltered. “I don’t want to think it, but they might hurt him.”

He felt sick. Did she mean—but couldn’t say—they might toss him overboard when they were away from town, get rid of the only witness? Or keep him to continue to force Royale into obeying them? “What can I do?”

“We will also take our place in the shadows. George Coxswain says a group of Friends, both men and women, will join us, lurking around the wharf and sounding the alarm if they see anything suspicious.”

“Why isn’t the law officer here?”

Honor looked disgusted. “They have issued a warrant for the arrest of the men and have put up a few posters about the kidnapping.”

“So you mean they have done nothing?”

“George Coxswain says the law doesn’t like having free blacks in the city and does little to help them.”

“What about Eli?” Samuel’s fingers slashed the air. “He’s not a free black.”

“Brother Ezekiel says that’s why the warrant has been issued and the posters put up at all. Otherwise they would do nothing to help.”

Samuel let out a breath. He wished the officer were here so he could pound him into the dirt floor beneath his feet.

The dandy hurried in and waved a stack of single sheets of newsprint.

Honor accepted one and scanned it. “Sinclair Hewitt has brought broadsheets about the kidnapping from the
Centinel
.”

Samuel took a sheet from her and read the brief account of the kidnapping. The paper called for all citizens to be on the watch for the mulatta with green eyes and the white boy of tender age. Samuel nodded his thanks to the man he had so resented.

One of the Quakers bowed his head for prayer and Samuel watched everyone do the same. A great heat roiled within Samuel’s chest.
God, save them. Let us find them. Please.

The gathering dispersed, Quakers and free blacks in groups of twos and threes. Samuel felt Honor take his hand and lift it to her cheek. Her tenderness caught around his heart.

“Have faith. We will get them back.”

Samuel stared into her eyes and wished he could speak to her with words, pull her close, and reassure her. He’d been keeping himself apart from her, but suddenly that didn’t matter. He drew Honor to him and embraced her, trying to express all the concern and caring he felt. They each might lose someone dear to them.

He felt her sob once and then regain control. He released her and, taking her hand, led her outside into
the twilight. He couldn’t pray. The fear and anger snuffed everything else out.

Night closed in, the shadows deepening, deepening. The cool, damp breeze flowing ashore from the river swirled around Honor’s ankles. Her eyes and ears strained for any sight or sound that might be a hint of Royale’s presence. Her stomach tightened into a knot of terror.

Samuel stood beside her, as tense as a tightly wound wire. She wished she could speak to him. But with only moonlight and the lamplight from windows along the quay and on board docked boats, she could not sign to him. They had already planned that if either saw anything, they were to shake the other and point in that direction.

A provocatively dressed woman walked past them and halted as if startled. Had she glimpsed Honor in the shadows of the alleyway? She leaned forward as if she couldn’t believe her eyes. “What’s a lady doing down here at this hour?”

Honor waved her arms, shooing her away. She couldn’t let her presence be clarioned to the whole wharf. Indeed this was no place for a lady.

Down the street, a man burst out of a door as if propelled, tried to catch himself, and stumbled onto the wooden boardwalk. He began shouting in what must be a state of drunkenness. Two other men exited another tavern and headed toward Honor and Samuel.

The woman turned away and swayed in the direction of the two men. “Hey, gents, are you lonely?”

The coy invitation shocked Honor. A prostitute? She had never seen a woman of ill repute. Then Royale’s voice played in her mind:
“Your grandfather be my father.”
The reality that her grandfather had sexually used Royale’s mother sickened her. And now Royale remained at risk.

“The life they gon’ sell her into ain’t worth livin’.”

Honor pushed her senses up another notch, sorting through the sounds of inebriated laughter bursting from opening doors, of docked boats bumping against the wooden piers, of footsteps echoing on the planks.
Royale, Royale,
her mind chanted,
where is thee?

The hours ticked by. Honor shifted on her feet and tried to stay alert. Her lower back began to ache. She blinked and drew in air. The night watchman walked past them, swinging a wooden baton. Honor didn’t breathe until he moved far from them. She wondered if he was even looking for Royale and Eli.

More time passed and Honor fought harder to remain awake. She awoke with a start, a hand over her mouth. She struggled but realized that it was Samuel’s hand. He put his fingers in front of her eyes. By the moonlight she could just make out the words. “You fell asleep.”

She scrubbed her face with her hands. Had Royale already been spirited away, or were the slave catchers holding her till the outcry died down? Even the alehouses were quieting as the alcohol did its numbing work. Royale and Eli in the hands of wicked men. Dread had lain in her stomach ever since they had disappeared, but now it swallowed her like a tidal wave. She pressed a hand to her head.
Royale, why can’t I find thee?

OCTOBER 19, 1819

Just after dawn, Honor stumbled up the last few steps to their room at the inn. Samuel grasped her waist, steadying her. She was holding in tears, but a night spent without rest and thick with worry and fear had sucked everything from her. She felt hollow.

Samuel unlocked the door. Honor staggered to the bed and fell facedown, the repressed tears pouring forth in sobs she couldn’t contain. The bed dipped as Samuel lay down beside her and clasped her to him, and they wept together. She buried her face into his shirt, seeking his strength, his solace, sharing the grief.

Samuel woke, disoriented. He looked to his right. Honor rested beside him on their bed at the inn. Gray smudged the skin beneath her eyes. Her discarded bonnet lay near her head. Her hair had come loose from its pins and framed her face.
My wife.

He could not restrain himself. He gently stroked her soft cheek with the back of his index finger. So soft. Her pale-pink lips beckoned him. His own tingled at the memory of the kiss that had sealed their marriage promises.

Then the guilt over Eli and Royale reared up, nearly choking him with regret. He should have been more watchful, less involved in himself and his worries. They must be found today.

Her eyes blinked open. He read his name on her lips and then, “Any news?”

He shook his head.

She gripped his hands in hers and mouthed clearly for him to read: “We must keep faith.”

Honor glanced toward the door and signed that she heard tapping. She rose, opened the door, and conversed with one of the maids. She turned to him and signed, “There’s a man to see us downstairs.”

She moved to the mirror and ran a hand over her hair, snatching out the pins and letting it flow down around her shoulders. She did her best to put it up again, but Samuel knew that Royale always did her hair, and the thought must have stabbed her as well. Turning away from this, she shook out her skirt and attended to Samuel, straightening his collar and smoothing back his hair. She took his hand and led him down the narrow stairs.

Samuel expected George Coxswain, but instead a white-haired Quaker of considerable age awaited them. He signed hello to Samuel. Then Honor signed what he said: “I’m an elder of the meeting and want thee to know we’re behind thee. The women of our meeting are taking turns strolling down the quay with their older sons to run for help if need be. If they see anything suspicious, they will sound the alarm. The men will patrol tonight again. The kidnappers may think we will slacken our efforts with the passage of time. But they are mistaken. We will do all we can to find thy maid and boy. And we are united in prayer.”

Honor gazed at Samuel, her broken heart in her eyes.

Samuel had trouble swallowing and signed, “My thanks.”

The older man solemnly shook their hands and left them.

Honor walked to Samuel, and he wrapped his arms around her. Then she looked up and signed, “We will not give up till we have found them.”

Samuel nodded. He had found a wife who didn’t falter in the face of trouble. He bent and kissed her forehead. “We will find them.” As they walked to the stairs, she nestled under his arm.

OCTOBER 20, 1819

Another long night’s vigil at the wharf was nearly over. Leaning against the wall near the opening of the alley beside Samuel, Honor was giddy with exhaustion. The sounds of the dock were slowly fading as another dawn glowed gray over the rooftops to the east.

Two men walked out from an alleyway. Each carried a sack over his back. They were joking and laughing, sounding loud in the relative quiet. Their manner was anything but stealthy. Wouldn’t kidnappers try not to call attention to themselves?