Shifted By The Winds (7 page)

Biddy eyed her with concern, but kept talking. “Aileen had four children. All four of them were sold to other planters in the area.”

“Sold?” Janie gasped. “
Sold
?”

“They were
slaves
,” Biddy reminded her. “People might want to clean up history by calling them indentured servants, but they were slaves just like the blacks who so recently won their freedom. They were bought and sold. They were beaten if they disobeyed. They were hunted down if they tried to run away. And most of them, in spite of the promises made to them, never received land.
If
, and it was a very big if …
If
they completed their servant contract, most of them were never given the land they were promised. They had to start over with almost nothing.”

“But I know stories of indentured servants who went on to become very successful,” Elizabeth argued. “My grandmother told me about them.”

“Yes,” Biddy agreed. “That is definitely true. A very small percentage ended up with good, kind, and fair people. They served their years, got their land or jobs, and started a new life here.” She frowned. “The problem is that a good ending only happened to a very small percentage. Of course, those few were what they talked about in Europe. So many people were lured over by the chance to create a new life. The reality was usually something very different. It didn’t take them long to understand they had been lied to, but it was too late to do anything about it.  They had crossed the ocean and had no way to return. They simply struggled to survive.”

Carrie tried to absorb what she was hearing, not certain why it was impacting her so deeply. Her housemate’s faces showed their horror, but what she was hearing seemed to be connecting with her in a deeper place that she didn’t understand. “Please continue with your story, Biddy,” she urged.

“Aileen’s oldest daughter, Bridget, was my great-great-grandmother. She grew up as a house servant on the plantation because she was such a great cook. Her life wasn’t as hard as the field hands.”

Carrie thought about her father’s promise to make Rose a house servant so that her life would be easier.

“Bridget evidently had quite the favor with the plantation owner because he allowed her to marry another of his servants. Of course the marriage wasn’t legal because indentured servants couldn’t marry…”

“Just like the slaves,” Carrie murmured.

“
Just
like them,” Biddy confirmed. “My great-great-grandfather, Michael, was a Scottish survivor from the
Crown of London
disaster in 1679.”

Carrie shook her head, more confused than ever. “Scottish? I thought the indentured servants were English or Irish.”

Biddy sighed. “England was determined to colonize America. They weren’t very particular about where the free labor came from. By the time it was all over, they had also enslaved many Scots, Germans, and Dutch.”

Carrie had a question still in mind. “You said Michael was a survivor of the
Crown of London
?”

“Yes. It was a ship,” Biddy told her. “My great-great-grandfather was one of the rebels who tried to run the English out of Scotland. He had seen what happened in Ireland, and Michael was determined it wouldn’t happen in his beloved Scotland.” Her voice hardened. “He had seen hundreds of thousands of Irish men, women, and children stolen from their country and sent to America. He had watched the land ravaged by famine and disease. Many of the ones who somehow escaped transportation to America died from sickness and starvation. By the time it was all done, almost one-third of Ireland’s population had been wiped out.”

“But why?” Carrie asked between clenched teeth.

Biddy regarded her for a long moment. “Because the English were getting crowded in their own country. They decided their lords, and earls, and barons should be given Irish land for their grand estates. The only way for that to happen was for the Irish to be run out of their own country,” she responded bluntly.

Carrie tried to comprehend what she was hearing.

Biddy used her silence to continue. “Grandfather Michael was captured during one of the battles. Many of the more than two thousand rebels captured died on the long march to prison. Most of the rest of them died from starvation or disease while they were incarcerated. The remaining prisoners, about two hundred and fifty of them, were loaded onto the
Crown of London
. The ship should have been headed south, but people suspect the captain had decided to sell the prisoners in England instead of incurring the expense of going to the West Indies. No one will ever really know why he was there on the northern coast of Scotland. What they do know is that a storm drove the ship onto the rocks right off the coast. The crew made it to shore safely by cutting a mast and using it as a bridge to land.”

“And the prisoners?” Florence asked with wide eyes.

“They were going to leave them all to die,” Biddy answered, “but one of the crew had enough heart to take an axe to the deck and cut an exit for them.” Her eyes filled with sorrow. “Only about forty to fifty of them made it to land. The rest perished in the boat when it went down.”

Carrie shuddered as she envisioned the terror of being trapped in the hold of the vessel while it was battered by waves. She wondered if their screams were heard above the wind. What a terrible way to die after all they had been through, simply for trying to save their country from destruction. Disgust boiled inside her, but she forced her thoughts back to Biddy’s story. “And your great-great-grandfather Michael was one of the survivors?”

“Yes. But his troubles were hardly over. He was weakened by his months in prison, so he was easy to capture again. Once they did, they banished him from Scotland and put him on a boat to America.” Biddy shuddered. “It’s a miracle he survived.”

“Which is how he met Bridget,” Alice said, leaping forward in the story. “Did they ever become free?”

Biddy shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never been able to find out. I can only hope after all they went through that they experienced freedom for some part of their lives. What I do know is that Bridget had four children. Her owner liked her, but he couldn’t resist the profit from the sale of her youngest daughter. Evidently, Darcy, who was my great-grandmother, was very beautiful. Even though she was only twelve years old, she would have brought a very high price.”

Carrie remembered the slave auction she had attended. The most attractive men and women had brought the highest prices. Bile filled her throat as she listened.

Biddy’s voice became flat with a resigned anger. “Darcy had a terrible life. The man who bought her was a very angry drunk. He abused her horribly for almost thirty years.” She cleared her throat and blinked her eyes. “She had four children from him, but all were sold away when they were very young. She had a brief time of happiness when she fell in love with one of the other servants, but he was murdered when he tried to protect her from being beaten by her master.” Biddy’s voice wavered.

“That’s enough,” Faith said firmly. “You can finish this story another time.”

Carrie knew, as much as she wanted Biddy to continue, that Faith was right. Fatigue was written all over the old woman’s face, and her eyes were numb with pain.

Biddy nodded slowly. “It all happened so long ago, but telling it makes it seem like I’m right there with them,” she murmured.

So many questions were churning in Carrie’s mind. She felt desperate for answers. “Can I ask you something, Faith?”

Faith nodded easily. “Go right ahead. I reckon I’ve heard this story enough times to tell it myself.”

“Biddy said Ireland was almost destroyed. If the English were trying to turn it into grand plantations of their own, why would they try to destroy it? It doesn’t make sense.”

Faith scowled. “That man hated everything Irish,” she said fiercely. “Especially because they were Catholic. You see, Reformation had swept through Europe before then. England decided that Protestants were far superior to Catholics. They renounced Catholicism as their official religion and embraced the Protestant religion. He was a very devout Protestant, and very determined that Ireland would be swept clean of all Catholics. He did his best to make sure it happened. He almost destroyed the entire country.”

“He?” Florence asked.

It was the very question burning in Carrie’s mind, but something had kept her from asking it. She didn’t understand why everything inside her was tightening with dread as she leaned forward to hear the answer.

Faith sniffed. “I hate to give the man a name,” she said scornfully. “Lord Cromwell hardly deserves to be remembered.”

Carrie froze, her heart beating wildly as the words floated in the still air. She registered Janie’s gasp, but her mind had gone completely numb.

Biddy was the first to reach out. She grasped Carrie’s hand and leaned forward to stare into her face. “Carrie? What is it, girl? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Carrie’s eyes moved to meet hers, but she still couldn’t form words. Long moments of silence passed before she could find her voice. “Lord Cromwell?” she whispered. “Lord Oliver Cromwell?”

Biddy eyed her sharply. “Yes. How would you know that?”

Carrie took a deep breath, forcing air into her lungs. “He was my sixth great-grandfather,” she said faintly.
 

A shocked silence fell over the room. The only sounds were the clattering of wagon wheels, the shouts of men, and the laughter of playing children drifting in through the open windows.

Carrie stared at the swaying curtains, trying to make sense of what she had heard. Lord Oliver Cromwell had been an almost mythical person in her household. She had grown up hearing his name — Lord Cromwell, the Lord Protector of England who became the effective leader of England from 1653 to 1658. Her thoughts froze once more when she realized there were actually no stories. She knew nothing about him except that he was extremely influential in England for many years. She had heard over and over that she had a heritage she should be proud of.

“Carrie?” Janie moved her chair closer and put an arm around her shoulder.

Carrie leaned into her for a long moment, closing her eyes to savor the closeness. Why did she suddenly feel her whole world had been ripped out from beneath her? Why was she consumed with a sick shame? Why did she suddenly wish she was anything but a Cromwell?

“Oliver Cromwell lived two hundred years ago,” Florence said, confusion evident in her voice. “His life had nothing to do with you now.”

Carrie desperately wanted to believe her, but somehow she knew that wasn’t true. She opened her eyes and stared straight into Biddy’s penetrating blue eyes. The truth was staring back at her. Two hundred years may have passed, but the legacy bequeathed to her by Oliver Cromwell was still alive. She struggled to make sense of the feelings rampaging through her. “How do you know so much about my ancestor?” she asked.

Biddy smiled. “Those books in the study aren’t just for looks, my girl. Most of them are history books. I’ve been collecting and reading them for a very long time.”

“Why?” Elizabeth asked. “My grandmother told me it was best to just let history be history. She told me there was no reason to drag the past into the present.”

Biddy turned to gaze at Elizabeth but didn’t loosen her grip on Carrie’s hand. “And you think she’s right?” Her earlier fatigue seemed to have melted away.

Elizabeth hesitated, and then her eyes dropped. “I did,” she confessed. “Until right now.”

“Why?” Biddy pressed.

Elizabeth shrugged. “I’m afraid I can’t answer that,” she responded honestly. “There is a very uncomfortable feeling I have that things in the past aren’t really
just
in the past.”

Biddy nodded with satisfaction. “I call it the Bregdan Principle.”

Carrie was intrigued. “The Bregdan Principle?” Biddy settled back in her chair, but still held Carrie’s hand. Carrie appreciated the strength she felt flowing from the old woman. “How old are you?” she asked suddenly. She wasn’t sure why it mattered, but she wanted to know.

Biddy’s eyes glinted with humor. “I turned ninety-seven last month.”

Carrie gaped with disbelief.

Janie was the first to find her voice. “Ninety-seven? I don’t believe it! You can’t possibly be.”