Chesapeake (61 page)

‘Longer, rather than shorter,’ Steed said, and he moved the pegs slightly.

‘Narrow in the beam, something under twenty-one feet,’ and again Paxmore drove his pegs.

‘I like that,’ Steed said. ‘Gives just enough room to swivel the cannon.’

The Quaker ignored talk of ordnance, but standing in the middle of the design, he said, ‘I think we must go to a depth of eight or nine feet in the hold. Of course, Steed, you won’t be able to navigate in the shallow waters of the bay.’

‘We keep to the channel … to the ocean. Make her bottom as sharp as you need.’

‘I calculate she’ll come in at a hundred and sixty tons.’

For the remaining two hours the men reviewed all aspects of their decision, and when they were satisfied that they had reached a sensible compromise on many conflicting demands, Paxmore called one of his nephews and said, ‘Martin, that large oak we’ve been saving. Start it into a keel,’ and before Steed left the boatyard the reassuring sounds of an adze were echoing.

On the brisk and pleasant sail back to Devon he tried to guess what kind of information might have caused his brother to send that imperative note: Since it came from Fithians, it must have originated in London. And since there’s no longer war with France, it must concern the colonies. Something about politics. Then he frowned. Could it possibly be business? Surely, Parliament can’t have passed legislation damaging to our trade.

He was convinced that London would not be so foolish, and his reasoning was original: The one staff the king must lean upon is the support of men like Paxmore and me. Only we can hold the rabble in restraint. And at this thought he flinched, for the sloop was passing Turlock’s marsh, and he visualized that hot-eyed radical wasting in jail, planning vengeance, and this encouraged him to summarize ideas which
had been brewing for some months: Society must be a compromise between new, untested men like Turlock, who want to destroy old patterns, and old, tried men like Paxmore and me, who tend to cling too long to the patterns we’re trying to protect.

He speculated on this for some minutes, and true to habit, whenever he dealt with large concepts such as
society, mankind
and
change
he began to think in French, and this was the fatal canker in his character: by every external sign he was fitted to be an English gentleman, except that he had learned to read French books, and these had corrupted him.

He was enormously captivated by Montesquieu and had spent one summer evaluating the Frenchman’s challenging theory that the governance of man is best served by dividing authority into three insulated compartments: executive, legislative, judicial. It had never occurred to him that those were the functions of government, but under Montesquieu’s exquisite tutelage he saw that this was the case.

But as soon as he reached this conclusion, he drew back from its logical consequences: The best way to attain this balance is by following the English system. A just king, a stalwart Parliament, a wise group of judges. It was contradictory: in all his practical applications he was an Englishman; in all his basic attitudes toward goodness of life he was a Frenchman. And now he turned practical: It would be a tragic day if our colonies ever felt tempted to break away from England, and when his boat touched the Steed wharf he bounded up the path, hungry to discover what kind of crisis had brought Guy Fithian across the Atlantic.

People inside Rosalind’s Revenge heard him coming and hurried to the door to meet him, and there for the first time he saw Jane Fithian, many years younger than himself, gay and blond and lovely on the arm of her capable husband. She was so compelling in a light-blue dress of India cloth with its bodice of delicately applied lace, that she seemed to float toward him, extending her hand and saying in a soft voice, ‘Hullo, I’m Jane Fithian.’

‘Welcome to Devon, Mrs. Fithian.’

‘Oh, no!’ She laughed merrily. ‘I’m his sister, not his wife.’

At these words he blushed so deeply that everyone watching, even the slaves, knew that he was excited by this elfin English girl, and as soon as he found himself alone with Guy he asked, ‘Why did you bring her?’ and Fithian replied with no embarrassment, ‘Because it’s high time you were married, Simon.’ The words, and the intention behind them, were so bold that Steed blushed again and was about to protest when Fithian said, ‘What really brings me is disaster … twofold.’ And he proceeded to spell out the worsening situations which had made an ocean crossing imperative.

‘The fall in tobacco prices means that many of the great plantations with which we’ve done business … well, they’re bankrupt.
And if we continue to extend them credit, we’ll be bankrupt too.’

‘We’re solid,’ Steed said defensively.

‘Would to God all the American plantations were in your condition. You and Isham know how to work, how to keep things in balance.’ He shook his head gravely. ‘Simon, would you have any interest in taking over Janney’s—that big plantation on the Rappahannock?’

Without a moment’s reflection Simon said, ‘No.’

‘Isn’t it somehow related to your family?’

‘Vaguely. But of no interest to us. Is that why you came?’

‘Janney’s is only one of a score. Do you realize that factors like us own most of Virginia? I represent a consortium. Six London factors, and we’re being asked to absorb American debts amounting to millions. You call these places Maryland and Virginia. They’re really Fithians and Goodenoughs.’ In great agitation he moved about the room, shaking his head and saying, ‘We own the damned plantations, and we don’t want to. Simon, at least come with me to see what can be done about Janney’s. You owe me that.’

Again Steed protested that for an Eastern Shore man to fiddle with a plantation in Virginia was insanity, but Fithian stopped him short. ‘Like it or not, Simon, we’re all caught up in insanity.’ And the gravity with which this trusted old friend uttered these words forced Steed to listen.

‘You feel safe because you run your plantation and stores prudently. Well, government in London seems determined to drive you out of business. Yes, you as well as the lazy Janneys.’

‘What now?’

‘Tea. They’re going to cut your throat with tea. And if that succeeds, then step by step everything else.’

‘Why tea?’

‘Because the East India Company—’

‘I know. I know. One of the poorest-run companies in the world. But it has that government monopoly.’

‘And it’s going to exercise it. The trick is this. If you American traders want to buy tea in London, you’ll pay a heavy tax. The India Company won’t. You’ll not be able to compete. The company will land its tea on your docks and undersell you.’

When the intricacies and injustices of this device became clear, Steed slumped in his chair, pressed his hands to his forehead and said, ‘It looks to me as if Parliament is determined to crush the very people in the colonies upon whom England must depend.’ And with obvious frustration he reviewed the succession of acts already discriminating against the merchants of Maryland: the restrictions in trade, the unjustified taxes, the advantages awarded London monopolists at the expense of colonial businessmen, the preposterous shipping laws, the arrogance of the tax collectors.

‘Have you set forth to destroy your friends?’ he exploded.

‘I think we have,’ Fithian said, and with this he lowered his voice, and the conversation left mercantile affairs in which he and Steed were threatened with heavy losses, and entered upon those questions which touch the soul. ‘What England should do right now, Simon—before summer—is say to the colonies with smiling good will, “Go your way, children. Grow strong and later on share your munificence with us.”’

Steed said nothing. The idea was so radical, so contrary to his own conclusions, that he could barely digest it. So Fithian continued, ‘If we do that, we shall bind you to us forever. You’ll bank in London, and buy your goods there, and send your sons to Oxford. Believe me, a union like that could be a powerful force in this world.’

‘Do many think like you?’ Steed asked.

‘You would be sick to hear the idiots. They can’t visualize any future different from the past. I argue the future of Atlantic trade and they hear nothing. This fellow Burke argues the legal position and they don’t hear him either.’

‘Is no concession possible?’

‘They’d all be possible if men were sensible. We’ll make the trivial ones. But the substantial ones that could remake the world? Impossible.’

‘So we planters will be driven back and back?’

‘Yes. Because you’re visible.’

‘It would be fearfully wrong if Parliament continued to abuse us merchants. We’re your link to sanity. We’re loyal to a man. We love England, but we’ll not be endlessly abused.’

And so the discussion continued, the Englishman advocating separation, the colonial renewing his allegiance. It ended when Fithian said abruptly, ‘Enough of this. You must come with me to Janney’s.’

‘I’ve warned you. I won’t touch it.’

‘But for your own sake, you must see the problem. Besides, I want to show Jane the Virginia shore.’

‘Is she going?’

‘Of course. I want her to know you. I want her to marry you.’

‘You shock me.’

‘She’s my baby sister. A precious, wonderful child. And we’ve been affiliated with the colonies for so many generations, I thought it time we made the bonds closer.’

‘I’m Catholic.’

‘We have an ample supply of Protestants in the other branches of the family.’ He tapped Steed on the chest. ‘All of us need new blood, new ideas. And you need a wife.’ Steed started to protest, but Fithian stopped him. ‘I sit in London and read letters from all over the world, and after a few years I build an image of the writers. And the image I have of you, Simon, is of a stolid, honest, unexciting calculator who is sometimes
deeply moved by contemporary happenings, but dry of heart. Don’t miss life because you contemplated it only from a distance.’

The sail to the Rappahannock was a peaceful winter idyll: geese flew overhead in vast congregations and the sky was a lambent gray; occasionally some ship bound for Baltimore would appear through the soft haze, its nine sails barely filled, and after a while it would pass on. The weather was brisk, and each morning Jane Fithian’s cheeks were a bright English red, and she would apologize, ‘I’m sure I must look a perfect milkmaid.’

She was a witty girl, well able to participate in the learned discussions her brother conducted. ‘I think the king should send two armies to the colonies, one to march from New York north and the other from New York south. Then we’ll see what headstrong rebels are capable of.’ She said such things to tease Simon, who was twenty-one years her senior, but she did not succeed.

‘Your armies, my dear Miss Fithian, would never reach either Boston or Philadelphia. We’re not children, you know.’

‘You’re barbarians, that’s what you are, and if we stopped our ships for even six months you’d perish … for lack of food … and ideas.’

‘And if we stopped our ships for six months, Fithians would crumple … for lack of money.’

‘We’d be sillies, each of us, to act so stupidly,’ she admitted, ‘and I’m sure we won’t.’

But when they reached the Janney plantation and she saw its sad condition, she was deeply agitated. ‘They seem such fools, all of them. Oh, Guy, if only we could stay here a year or two to straighten them out!’ Her brother pointed out that the fault lay not only with the unfortunate Janneys but with the policy-makers in London. ‘I’m to blame, too, for extending them credit.’

Only Simon remained untouched by the swift fall in the Janney fortunes. ‘They’ve always been inept, and now fate in the form of ten-percent interest has overtaken them.’

It was his opinion that Fithians should foreclose, take control of the vast lands, and sell them cheaply to some better managers.

‘We can’t do that,’ the Englishman protested. ‘Because if we forced Janney’s into bankruptcy, we’d have to follow with at least nineteen others. What would be the result? Panic in Virginia. And Fithians with more plantations than it could supervise.’

‘What shall you do?’ Steed asked.

Guy Fithian, spiritual and legal representative of many English businessmen, lowered his head, rubbed his chin and said, ‘Pray. That’s what we’ll do, pray.’

‘For what?’

‘Well, my first prayer has been that I could find someone like you to manage Janney’s. And the nineteen others. To tide us over the period
before the war starts.’ At the mention of war, Simon winced. ‘And next I’d pray that after the war the free colonies will honor their debts.’

‘Don’t speak as if war were inevitable,’ Steed said.

‘It is,’ Fithian said quietly.

And after they had inspected a batch of plantations tottering on abysses which the owners barely comprehended, Jane asked her brother, ‘Can’t we do something?’

‘As I said before, we can pray.’

‘So the war I spoke of in jest is to be a reality?’

‘I think so,’ her brother said.

The visits to the grand plantations were like a dream: slowly the sloop would climb the rivers; slaves would be waiting at the wharves to catch the lines; ahead would stretch the impeccable lawn; off to one side would stand the slave quarters; and in the midst of all would rise the mortgaged mansion, sometimes with columns gleaming in the wintry sun. The reception was invariably generous, with fine drinks and small talk of London, but in the eyes of the owners there would be a quiet terror in the presence of this factor who owned the place.

Guy Fithian was not a destroyer; he was there to see if some reign of reason could be installed to save both the ostensible owners and himself, but there was never a rational plan. ‘The slaves have to be fed, Mr. Fithian. Tobacco is sure to recover. We don’t know how to raise corn or wheat. There’s been some talk of growing apples, but only for cider. And each month our debts seem to grow heavier.’

Yet it was these good people, so sorely abused by London, who most enthusiastically supported England and the king. ‘There will never be rebellion here. In Richmond and Williamsburg there has been talk. Jefferson isn’t reliable and Patrick Henry is a born troublemaker of no substance whatever. No, sir, Virginia stands fast with the king.’