Dark Journey Home (3 page)

While in his teens, Garth had been sent to military
school for two years, but his wild ways had gotten him so many detentions, that
finally he’d been kept at the manor, with the made-up position of overseeing
the stables, keeping things in order there.  He’d left home at twenty-five
years of age, and in all figuring, would be around thirty now……. wherever he
was.

Lord Claude had had neither the expertise nor the
temperament to finish raising half-grown children, but did his best to pamper
and spoil Olivia, though at the same time dealing out strict rules to Garth,
which of course Garth did his best not to follow.  It was a big joke among the
employees, to see which of the rules the young man would break during any
twenty-four hour period.  Garth always prone to adventure, was the image of his
late father and literally cut of the ‘same cloth’, an irresistible devil in
every way.

Being intent upon leaving the security of home, Garth
had joined up with a friend and taken off for the unknown.  First working along
docks around the world, and then finally, with funds which had been kept in
trust for him, he had purchased a cargo ship.  Not a large one, but one that
served the purpose.  Then he and his friend, Paul Langford, slightly older than
Garth, and a stabilizing influence on him, sailed the high seas, going from one
exotic port to another for several years.  The investment had been a success,
and Garth had wound up with a small fleet of ships with contracts to haul freight
to many ports of the world.   

Olivia’s light tap on the door interrupted Lord
Claude’s thoughts, and he knew it was time to have the carriage loaded.

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The country air was fresh and damp from the recent
rain, as the carriage bounced along the winding road toward the city. The Lord
had foreseen to hire two guards to ride horseback along the way, on either side
of the carriage, as road agents were prevalent along the highways, and he
didn’t want to risk Olivia’s safety.  They relaxed and enjoyed the long ride
through the darkness of the countryside.  As the coach creaked through the
quiet of the dark night, the low-hanging fog became thicker, and the miles sped
by as the two white horses made their way, by habit more than sight, to the
winding cobblestone roads of London, then towards the huge inlet, where many
ships were tied up awaiting launching. 

The Liner was due to sail sometime in the wee hours of
the morning, and Lord Beckford wanted Olivia to be more than settled in her
stateroom, and he in his, long before sailing time, thus avoiding the rush of
many last minute passengers.  Their belongings would be loaded soon, but
meanwhile Lord Beckford had to make one stop before departing; that would be at
one of his many warehouses along the pier.  He had some last minute paperwork
to catch up on, though there was still plenty of time, and he had explained
this to Olivia before leaving.

Lord Beckford’s carriage was large, black, sleek and
shiny, as it now traveled through the road nearing the waterfront.  The sturdy
horses trod on through the streets, engulfed by the heavy fog, and only a
lantern here and there could be seen through the thick mush.  Olivia looked
through the side window, but could not see a thing.  So she leaned back with a
sigh, thinking back to the night, five years before, when Garth had packed only
a small valise with a few of his belongings, then sat upon the dark gold-tinged
velvet divan in the parlor, telling her goodbye.  Garth with his chestnut hair
and laughing brown eyes, the teasing smile through the thin mustache he had
chosen to grow from the time his first whisker had appeared on his face. 

“Oh Garth, brother mine,” Olivia thought as she was
jounced around on the carriage seat, “Won’t you ever settle in one place?  Will
you even be in the Americas when we land there or will your aching feet have
already taken you to some tropical island?

Olivia missed seeing her brother, having only received
a couple of letters a year from him since his departure from the manor.  The
possibility of seeing Garth was one of the main reasons she had agreed to this
journey.  Having no reason otherwise to travel, she was very comfortable with
her life in the country. 

Also she had heard a few snickers behind her back, a
time or two, referring to her as that ‘wealthy’ older spinster lady.  Well, she
did not look her twenty-five years anyway, and many of her former classmates
were now showing lines and wrinkles, and were coping with large families. 
Olivia felt that she would marry for love, and as yet had failed to meet the
perfect man.  Until then, as she had explained to her uncle many a time, she
would be content to reside at the Manor, far out from the crime-infested city,
with its squalor and filth.

Olivia hoped that Garth had received the wire that
Uncle Claude had sent to one of Garth’s offices in China, with copies forwarded
to several other possible ports, asking him to please, if possible, meet them
at the harbor in New York when they arrived there.  Otherwise they would await
word from him while staying at the inn. 

There was a cattle ranch somewhere in a place called ‘Texas’, that they had discussed the possibility of visiting while in America.  One of Lord Beckford’s many holdings, left to him some ten years before by a
distant relative, and as it appeared to be a fairly good source of income, Beckford
had decided to keep it in mind to visit the place if possible.   

As the coach wound nearer to the darkened, foggy and
cluttered waterfront, Olivia gasped and clutched the small carpetbag which she
had kept at her side, “Goodness, Uncle Claude, I can’t see a thing through all
this.  Are we still stopping at your warehouse?  I do believe I can see a few lanterns
now from the ships, with some sort of movement going on.  Are some of the ships
being loaded on such a dark night, as ours will be?”

Claude laughed, “One question at a time, my dear.  Yes,
we will be indeed stopping at the warehouse, but of course there is a lounge at
the back of the building behind my office, and you can rest there, until we are
ready to leave.  I have instructed the coachman to wait outside until then, as
our luggage will be perfectly safe with our guards standing near, we’ll have
everything loaded at that time.”  He paused smiling down at her, “And yes, lots
of ships load during all kinds of weather, the men are used to it, and can
almost feel their way in the dark, much more through the smog.”

Just then a burst of loud laughter came floating
across from one of the taverns which they were passing, and someone called out,
“Hey have any of you blokes seen a wayward escapee, let me know if you do. 
It’ll be a fine handful of shillings for the one who brings him in.  Several
bondsmen jumped ship last night, and we have yet to catch nigh a one o’ ‘em. 
The captain of the Red Dragon will be forever grateful.”

A drunken voice hollered back, “Hey, matey, if’n I
come across a one o’ them, it’ll be work for me’self I’ll put ‘em to.  Ha, ha,
they’ll be in chains on me own ship before the night’s o’er.”

Olivia grasped ahold of her uncle’s sleeve, and said,
“Uncle Claude, they can’t be hunting down men like animals, can they?  It just
isn’t right.  Oh, those poor men.”

Claude patted her hand lovingly, and answered, “I’m
sorry, Niece, but that’s the way of the world.  Those bondsmen owe so many
years of hard labor, for their debts.  I have never believed in the practice,
but it is still prevalent in the business, and in the Americas, and other lands they still hold to the practice, also some even deal in slave
trade.”

Olivia shuddered, “But that’s so barbaric.  I wouldn’t
stand for it for a minute.”

“That’s the way of the world dear, and hopefully
sometime in the future the practice will be outlawed.  But until then, we can’t
do a thing about it, short of helping the poor souls if we should come across
them, risking our own selves at the same time.  When those poor fools jump ship,
that’s treason, and some of them take on violent and desperate ways too.  It’s
best we don’t become involved.  Now let’s see if we are nearing the warehouse,
as the coachman just slowed those prancing steeds of mine.” 

“Uncle Claude, Olivia began as the shiny black coach
pulled up before the dim outline of a huge block building.  “Do you believe
we’ll be able to see Garth?  It has been years and only a few letters.”

“Hopefully, Ollie, just maybe we’ll catch that brother
of yours.  We’ll see, though we may have to extend our travels a bit if we have
to track that rascal around the world.”

Olivia snickered at the thought of literally running
after Garth, as he sprinted across the Globe.  She smoothed her skirts, and
clutched her carpetbag, “You’re always so optimistic, Uncle, so we’ll just
leave it at that.”  She then prepared to leave the coach.

Lord Beckford, usually shrewd and stern, an
experienced businessman in dealing with all types of traders around the world,
was light-hearted at the moment, as he alit from the coach, and then turned to
help Olivia down.

He then took her arm and steered her to a small
doorway to the left, “This way dear.”  He said.  The doorway was barely
distinguishable through the fog, though a dimly-lit lantern hung at the side. 
He retrieved a key from the pocket of his coat, and then turned it in the
lock.  He led Olivia inside.  She noted several lanterns were hung on pegs
along the walls, and as she had never been inside one of her uncle’s warehouses
before, it was a bit eerie, though fascinating at the same time.  Cavernous,
cool and damp, the place was.

“Oh, my!”  Olivia breathed, “Just look at this.” 
Through the dimly-lit warehouse, her gaze traveled at length, taking in the
hundreds of large shipping crates.  Lord Beckford turned and slipped the latch
on the door, securing the lock.

“Oh, my.”  Olivia again said.  “The spicy odors in
here are magnificent.”

Her uncle smiled fondly, “Yes, he began, “spices are
heavily traded from port to port, among other things.  There is a great demand
for those around the world, along with the amazing craftworks and artistry of
foreigners.  Some fruit, such as pineapples, bananas, cocoanuts, and the like,
I leave for the smaller shippers.  The shorter runs mostly of those products
are their ‘bread and butter’, so to say, and never let it be said that I hogged
the whole industry.”

“Never, uncle, never indeed.”  Olivia declared
lightly.

“Also, Niece,” Claude continued in a more serious
note, “we work here twenty-four hours a day; though for now it’s quiet because
a crew just left duty and another is due to take over in just about one hour. 
We should be already on board by then though.  By the way, our ‘lady’s’ name is
the ‘Silver Princess’.”

“What a beautiful name, and I shall be honored to be
sailing with her, Uncle Claude.”  Olivia stated.  “I know they name ships with
exotic names, sometimes lady’s names, such as this one.  I believe I love the
‘Silver Princess’ already.”

They made their way through narrow aisles between
stacks of odorous crates, then down a long dimly-lit hallway to the far rear of
the building.

“We have several hours,” Lord Claude began, “before
sailing time, and this paperwork won’t take more than a half-hour at the most.”

He unlocked his office door, then while Olivia waited,
he lit two lanterns from his desk, then handed one to her.  “Across the room,
and through that doorway, is a lounge dear.  You may freshen up and rest on the
divan in there while I work.”

“Thank you, Uncle.”  She answered, and started across
the room, then through the doorway he’d mentioned.

“Oh, my!” she looked around at the finely furnished
lounge, with its white wicker furniture and imported fine artistic décor. 
Olivia was surprised, and delighted at the lovely and tastefully furnished lounge,
and proceeded to enjoy herself as she set down the lantern, then took off her
heavy woolen cape, tossing it onto the wicker divan with its brightly colored
pad.  She smoothed her skirts, and then unwound her hair, brushing it until it
sparkled, with the brush she had retrieved from her carpetbag.  Then carefully
rewound the long golden tresses into a tight bun, returning the hairpins to
their proper positions.

Olivia washed her face and hands with the cool water
she poured into a small bowl, from a china pitcher that had been setting on the
white wicker stand next to the divan, then patted her face dry with a white
towel she’d found next to the bowl. 

She yawned and stretched, thinking of lying on the
divan for a moment, but first she noted the doorway leading outside, probably
to the alleyway.  Deciding to peek outside, only for a moment, maybe see if the
fog had lifted any, also wanting to air out the musty, stuffiness of the air in
the lounge, Olivia crossed to the door.  Unlocking, then lifting the latch, she
opened the door, after a couple of tugs, as it was a heavy door, and hard to
open.  After the second try, it gave way, then she stepped to the opening, and
took in a deep breath of the heavy though cool, damp air, then noted the fog
hadn’t lifted a bit, was still thick as chowder; she couldn’t see a thing as
she tried to peer into the darkness.