Summary: Ben and Adam receive an old trunk from Abel Stoddard which sets them off on a long journey to when the first Cartwright stepped foot on American soil in the 17th Century.<\/p>\n
Rating K (42,870 words)<\/p>\n
The final page contains reviews\/comments from the Old BonanzaBrand Library<\/p>\n
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Genesis – The Ponderosa<\/strong><\/p>\n Chapter 1<\/p>\n \u201cBen? Ben Cartwright?\u201d<\/p>\n Among the group of men a tall well built man turned to face the person who was yelling out his name. Others turned, momentarily interested, and then resumed their work while Ben walked away from them to approach the newcomer,<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m Ben Cartwright,\u201d he smiled, extended his hand and shook that of the man who had pulled a piece of paper from his back pocket and was glancing at it at the same time as he was observing Ben. \u201cWhat can I do for you?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMore a case of what I can for you, mister.\u201d he jerked his thumb towards the mail depot, \u201cA box came for you. Ben Cartwright, The Ponderosa. That\u2019s you – right?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cRight.\u201d Ben replied with a slightly wry smile at the rather pompous manner in which the other man addressed him, but he appreciated the fact that Bryan Littleman was new to the job, and lived in constant fear of doing something wrong.<\/p>\n He followed Bryan into the building and then looked at the box to which the deliveryman pointed.<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s mine?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cJust sign right here, on the dotted line, Mr Cartwright.\u201d<\/p>\n Ben nodded, smiled again and signed, glancing rather thoughtfully at the box. It was the size of a seaman\u2019s trunk, tied with rope, battered and scored over with the scars sustained during its journey. He looked at the paper he had just signed and checked the address on it,<\/p>\n \u201cWho\u2019s it from?\u201d he asked, seeing that there was no reference to a sender of the trunk.<\/p>\n \u201cDoesn\u2019t say,\u201d Bryan replied, \u201cBut seems to me, from the colour of the labels and such, it\u2019s been a long time arriving here.\u201d<\/p>\n Ben nodded, that, he thought, was an understatement. He rubbed his jaw and shook his head; the problem now was how to get it to the ranch. He sighed, and looked over at Bryan who was licking the lead nib of the pencil and writing industriously on a notepad, no doubt to confirm that the parcel was safely delivered.<\/p>\n \u201cFact is, I\u2019m not going to be able to collect it – I mean – take it back to the ranch with me today. Can I leave it here until Hop Sing comes in with the wagon tomorrow?\u201d<\/p>\n Bryan frowned, and glanced over at Tom Riley, the acting Post Master. Some brief communication took part between them that consisted of raised eyebrows and nods, shakes of the head accompanied by raised shoulders. Bryan nodded then at Ben,<\/p>\n \u201cSure, Mr Cartwright, what time should we expect him?\u201d<\/p>\n Ben stated a time and after examining the trunk, looking thoughtfully at the writing on the label, he left the building.<\/p>\n \u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026<\/p>\n \u201cIs it a big trunk, Pa?\u201d<\/p>\n Ben looked at his youngest son, and frowned thoughtfully,<\/p>\n \u201cJust about the size to put you in it and get the lid down.\u201d he observed with a smile.<\/p>\n \u201cUseful to have around then,\u201d Adam muttered with a lift of one eyebrow and a knowing smile at his brother, Hoss.<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, something we\u2019ve always wanted, somewhere to put little brother when he\u2019s gitting a mite uppity.\u201d Hoss replied as he carefully continued with his task of cleaning his rifle.<\/p>\n Joe turned his head away from his brothers as though the conversation had sunk to depths he had no wish to delve into, he looked instead at his father,<\/p>\n \u201cAnd no idea who sent it?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ve an idea, but I could be wrong.\u201d Ben picked up a rag and gently smoothed it along the barrel of his gun, he looked over at Joe who was sprawled over the big red leather chair, \u201cCan\u2019t you sit in a more conventional position, Joe?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cCon – what, Pa?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSit straight, lad, and stop corkscrewing yourself all over the place.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m only in the chair -\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cEnough -\u201d Ben lowered his brows and Joe grimaced before sliding into a more \u2018conventional\u2019 position and picking up his rags to start cleaning his revolver.<\/p>\n \u201cSo, what do you think this trunk could contain, Pa?\u201d Adam, all curiosity, set his gun down and began to carefully fold away all the cleaning materials he\u2019d been using. In the back of his mind he already had a thought of his own, as to who had sent it and from where it had come.<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d Ben replied, \u201cI have a feeling it may be from your mother\u2019s family, Adam, as I was the only one of my father\u2019s sons to go to sea, and I can\u2019t see why a seamans trunk could come from any of my brothers or sisters family.\u201d<\/p>\n They settled into a silence brought about by thoughts of family, of the past, of something so nebulous to Joe\u2019s mind that he soon got bored and began to whistle a popular tune beneath his breath.<\/p>\n Family – Adam wrinkled his brow and glanced over at his father and wondered what thoughts his father would be having about his own family. He looked quickly over at Joe and then Hoss, and pursed his lips, when it came to family, there was quite a lot of diversity springing from the four of them alone. He frowned and looked over at Hoss who had completed his task, and without a word being spoken cleared the table for a game of checkers.<\/p>\n Joe, at sixteen years of age, put aside his gun and the rags and got to his feet. He watched as Hoss set out the board, and then looked over at his father who was carefully locking away the rifles, passing the chain along the rack of them and then closing the glass doors.<\/p>\n \u201cMaybe it\u2019s from my Mother\u2019s family -\u201d he ventured hesitantly, and Ben nodded, although he didn\u2019t turn to look at the boy,<\/p>\n \u201cPerhaps so, son.\u201d was all Ben could say.<\/p>\n \u201cOr mine.\u201d Hoss looked up and over at them, a grin spreading over his face, \u201cP\u2019raps Uncle Gunther has remembered that he has a nephew somewhere about -\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPerhaps that\u2019s what it is, son.\u201d was all that Ben could say in reply.<\/p>\n Adam said nothing, he kept his eyes on the board and his thoughts to himself.<\/p>\n \u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026..<\/p>\n Hop Sing had to push his baskets of washing closer together on the wagon in order to accommodate the trunk, along with several sacks of potatoes, grain and other necessary commodities. It seemed to him that the old sea chest had seen better days and smelt of the worse of times. Half way home the thought even came into his mind that perhaps it would be better if the old thing fell off the back of the wagon and tumbled down some crevasse.<\/p>\n Hoss was crossing the yard from the stables to the house when Hop Sing arrived home, so with much arm waving and rolling of eyes he succeeded in getting Hoss to haul the trunk into the house while he did battle with the laundry and groceries. He grumbled beneath his breath that he had enough to do as it was, with meals to prepare and no doubt coffee to be brewed right away now. He sighed, wiped his brow and shook his head, of course, he wouldn\u2019t want it any other way, although, as far as that old sea chest was concerned, no, he didn\u2019t like it, all the superstitious bones in his body rattled at the thought of it, and what it could contain.<\/p>\n \u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026<\/p>\n \u201cHere y\u2019are, Pa.\u201d Hoss declared placing the old trunk with a thud on the floor, \u201cPhew, it\u2019s old. It smells old too -\u201d<\/p>\n Joe sniffed the air and wrinkled his nose,<\/p>\n \u201cSure does.\u201d he agreed and retreated to wards the chair by the hearth, grabbing an apple on the way as though the fresh smell of the fruit would keep the mustier aroma of the trunk at bay.<\/p>\n Adam glanced over at his father and watched as the older man approached the battered object with a knife and cut through the cords.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s got a lock to it, but its rusted.\u201d he inserted the point of the knife into the lock and turned it carefully, there was a snap, and he smiled, \u201cThere, that\u2019s done it -\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBroke the knife -\u201d Joe observed casually.<\/p>\n \u201cThe lock was quite rusty, still – let\u2019s see what we have here -\u201d and he carefully raised the lid to expose what the trunk contained.<\/p>\n Chapter 2<\/p>\n An envelope bearing Ben\u2019s name was the first thing to catch their eyes, it lay upon a covering of cloth, hessian sacking, slightly mildewed.<\/p>\n Ben opened it carefully and after a quick perusal he sighed and grimaced, his dark eyes flicked over to his sons who sat close by as though not wishing to miss a single action. He raised his shoulders slightly, and after he had \u2018a-hemmed\u2019 several times to clear his throat he began to read the letter\u2019s contents:<\/p>\n \u201cDear Mr Cartwright<\/p>\n I have recently purchased the old house belonging to Mrs Hamilton. You would not know her but she purchased it from your father in law, Abel Stoddard. That was quite a number of years ago, shortly after he had died.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHow could Mrs H have bought it from Abel if he was dead already?\u201d Joe quipped and bit into his apple.<\/p>\n \u201cOut of his estate, of course.\u201d Adam retorted sharply, and nodded over at his father, \u201cGo on, Pa.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI found this old sea chest in the attic, tucked behind a lot of other stuff, but I thought you should have this as rightfully it belongs to you and I ain\u2019t got no use for it nor any rights to it.<\/p>\n Hope this letter finds all things well with you.<\/p>\n Yours sincerely<\/p>\n Mrs A. J. Appleton.\u201d<\/p>\n A collective sigh rippled over the still air. Not one of them had realised they had been holding their breaths, and Adam took the letter from his father and re-read it to himself, before handing it back.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s nearly five years old.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell, it\u2019s got here at last,\u201d Hoss muttered, \u201cCan\u2019t we see what\u2019s inside, or do we have to wait another five years?\u201d<\/p>\n Ben rolled back the hessian, and the first thing to come to light was the navy blue jacket that Abel would have shrugged on each morning, that was followed by his cap, some medals and a leather pouch containing some coins with the date 1789. Hoss trickled them through his fingers and watched fascinated as they rolled over the table.<\/p>\n There was a package wrapped in an oilskin wrapping which Ben handed to Adam while he continued to take out the contents of the old chest \u2026 a dress that had belonged to a child, and everyone knew that it just had to be Elizabeths. There was a bouquet of dried flowers that gave Hoss the shudders because he liked things to be fresh and glowing with colour, rather than this dusty relic of something that had once been beautiful. There were a few children\u2019s books, faded in colour, the pages brittle as the books were opened and then carefully closed again. Wrapped in a pale pink silk shawl that had obviously come from a faraway place was a doll, her dress as fresh as though she had been just picked from the shelf at Cass\u2019 store. There were a few remnants of Abel\u2019s sea faring days, his sextant, compass and an old log book.<\/p>\n Ben rocked back onto his heels and then looked over at Adam who was perched on the arm of the settee watching the revealing of the items, with the oilskin package still in his hand.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat\u2019s in there -?\u201d Ben straightened his legs and tried to stifle the grunt that came from those older in years whose bones were just that much stiffer and less pliable than previously.<\/p>\n Adam set the package on the table and carefully unwrapped the oilskin. As though shuffling cards he passed his hand over the papers, letters, envelopes, so that they were spread out evenly upon the polished woodwork. He smiled and shrugged,<\/p>\n \u201cJust old papers -\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnd letters -\u201d Joe muttered, he picked one up and raised his eyebrows, \u201cSay, these are seriously old, I mean, they\u2019re even older than you, Pa.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cEnough of your cheek, young man,\u201d Ben scowled but smiled and reached out to take up on of the letters \u201cThis is dated 1638 \u2026\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThis is a journal -\u201d Adam opened the thin notebook, the pages so thin as to be transparent , \u201cDated 1627 \u2026\u201d<\/p>\n \u201c1627 -\u201d Ben looked thoughtfully down at the relics upon the table and repeated softly, \u201c1627.\u201d<\/p>\n \u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026..<\/p>\n The lamp light flickered and cast long shadows upon the walls as Ben made his way down the stairs to the great room. Ash had settled in the hearth, although there was still some semblance of warmth coming from its midst. Adam glanced up, frowned and glanced hurriedly over at the clock as though to observe the time before acknowledging his father with a nod of the head,<\/p>\n \u201cCouldn\u2019t sleep?\u201d he asked with a smile, and Ben frowned, shrugged and set the lamp down,<\/p>\n \u201cNo, the smell of all that -\u201d he waved a hand towards the papers on the desk, \u201c was stuck in my nostrils, and I hadn\u2019t heard you come up. Knew you\u2019d be here scrutinising these.\u201d he paused and leaned forward to pick up an addition to the collection, \u201cOur family bible? What did you want with this?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh, I was reading through these letters and the journal, and thought I would check on some of the dates mentioned in the Cartwright family bible -\u201d Adam turned to the relevant page, \u201cPa – this is our history. The Cartwrights, the Stoddards. These papers, the family line written down by generations of Cartwrights, a journal written by a Stoddard \u2026\u201d<\/p>\n Ben said nothing but sat down and with the small journal in his hand, he scanned the first few lines and then looked over at his son and smiled,<\/p>\n \u201cThis means a lot to you, doesn\u2019t it?\u201d he didn\u2019t wait for the answer but leaned back and observed the handsome face of his eldest son thoughtfully, \u201cThis is as close as you\u2019ll ever get to the flesh and blood Cartwrights and Stoddards, Adam, it could be a fascinating adventure.\u201d<\/p>\n Adam smiled, he was tired and it seemed as though the weight of so many whispered histories sat heavily upon his mind, he stood up and walked to the cabinet from where he withdrew two glasses and a decanter of whiskey which he brought back to the table. Having sat down he poured whiskey into each glass,<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s an adventure, and a journey -\u201d he replied as he handed his father a glass of the amber liquid, \u201cSeveral journeys in fact and all ending here, at the Ponderosa.\u201d<\/p>\n Chapter 3<\/p>\n Cape Cod, Massachusetts 1627<\/p>\n It was an irony of sorts that due to an oversight by a novice navigator, the ship \u2018Mayflower\u2019 missed even the northern limits of Virginia by a good two hundred miles and beached at what was to become known as Cape Cod in Massachusetts*. Since they had missed Virginia they were free from the legalities under which the Virginian settlers had forfeited their freedoms to England and the crown. Leaders such as Brewster* and William Bradford* set up their own governing body, drawing up laws under which the settlers there were to become compliant.<\/p>\n When the Mayflower had sailed from Southampton, England in 1620 there were many with hope in their hearts for a free future, and once they had survived that first winter the settlements grew, expanded and prospered.<\/p>\n Francis Cartwright paused along the track that would lead to his home; he paused to breathe in the air, and to look about him and to congratulate himself once again at the wisdom of his decision to settle here. He had spent some years in one of the Virginia settlements and it was there he had met Ann Fawcett the daughter of one of the founder members of the colony, they had married and within a year had taken a ship to Cape Cod.<\/p>\n Yes, a good decision and one he did not for a moment regret for he was a man born and bred in Grimsby, in Lincolnshire, close to the docks where the cries of the gulls could deafen a man in the mornings when the fishing fleets came into harbour. There was the noise and the bustle of men working to bring in the fish, and the women busy with the gutting knives as they filleted them and packed them for the markets as far afield as London city. At 14 he was a seaman himself, sailing out with a crew of 12 men to bring in the fish against all the odds that the fomenting seas could throw at him.<\/p>\n Grimsby men were called \u2018Cods Heads\u2019 by people in Lincolnshire and beyond, and now, as Francis resumed his return home, he thought it a fine irony once more that the local name should be so well applied for wasn\u2019t this Cape Cod itself, where the fishing was that grand and that bountiful that he himself was already prospering.<\/p>\n He resumed his meditations, recalling to mind the time he had decided to work his passage over to the colonies and make the most of his young manhood while he was able, for life in Lincolnshire was hard, and the fishing was being taxed to ruination by a King and Government that had no empathy for the likes of the poor. Well, so it had always been, but when chance and opportunity provided a way out, why not take it. And he had, with both hands.<\/p>\n There was the house now, who would have thought it? In Grimsby it would have been a struggle to find even a poor tenement to house him and his family, were he to have been blessed with such a thing. He smiled slowly at the sight of it, standing proud on the brow of the hill with the well tended garden and the sea shimmering in the background. His home, built by his own hands, for a settler in the new world had to be more than a seaman, or a farmer, he had to be all things to all people in order to survive.<\/p>\n \u201cAnn, Annie my love, I\u2019m home.\u201d<\/p>\n She was laughing as she ran towards him, her arms wide and these she flung around his neck, and held him close. Goodness within only a few weeks she had got fat ! He laughed and pushed her away, holding her at arms length<\/p>\n \u201cLook at you, woman, you\u2019re as fat as a roll of butter.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAren\u2019t I though?\u201d she laughed proudly, and patted her body with both hands, \u201cPerhaps I\u2019m going to have twins, Francis.\u201d<\/p>\n He only laughed then, and pinched her cheek and kissed her lips and then held her away from him again. She had been a thin slip of a girl when he had married her, with long golden hair braided around her head and covered by the white Puritan cap, freckles had adorned her nose back then, and her blue eyes had shone with the love she had for him, for her black eyed Grimsby boy.<\/p>\n Her parents talked a lot about England, but she had few memories of it. They had been Suffolk born, weavers from the village of Lavenham and had lived in a house that had been built in the time of Good Queen Bess. But they, along with so many of their brethren, had felt that the simple faith of Christ had been corrupted by the Church of England and they had renounced it. They became \u2018Seperatists\u2019 and eventually had taken the decision to emigrate to the colonies. James I, King of England, had declared of such believers \u2018I shall make them conform or I shall harry them out of the land\u2019. The Fawcetts had never felt harried, they felt it a matter of common sense to leave a land that had no tolerance for them and joined with the party of believers that set their course for Jamestown.<\/p>\n Now, here she was with Francis Cartwright, a seaman who had chosen to cross the ocean. She held his hand, rough and coarse from hard labour, and looked up into his face, a handsome face with bold black eyes, and some said, back in Grimsby, that his mother had frolicked a while with a local gypsy lad but the Cartwrights knew better, for t he black eyes were an inheritance from a Spanish seaman who had survived the blasting of the Spanish Armada and married a local Grimsby girl years before Francis had been born.<\/p>\n \u201cAny news? How is my sister? Is everyone well \u2026\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHush now, my beauty, come, kiss me again and make me feel you are glad to see me out of love of me, and not for the sake of letters \u2026\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cLetters!\u201d she exclaimed and clapped her hands together with glee, and then hugged him close, and even closer, for she had missed him .<\/p>\n \u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026<\/p>\n \u201cAugust 1627<\/p>\n Dearest sister, Ann<\/p>\n How good to see Francis and to know that all is well with you. I write this letter having to tell you that father died this year from the fever. That is the saddest news I bring you.<\/p>\n Last week I was delivered of a son, we are calling him Daniel in remembrance of father. Your sister, Mary, is well. She and her husband had a daughter six months back. They have moved now to another settlement in Virginia as her husband Thomas Grey, feels the confinement of the charters laid down here.<\/p>\n There has been much to do. John is well and strong, and has had a good crop of tobacco this year. We prosper – thank God – as I pray you will also prosper.<\/p>\n Francis tells me that you are expecting a child of your own soon. May God grant you a healthy son. This land needs sons, Ann.<\/p>\n I wish you well and God speed \u201cGreetings, Francis<\/p>\n I hope this letter finds you well. Here in England we have a new King, Charles I. Hopes are that life will be better for all as he is more liberal minded and God fearing than his old father ever was.<\/p>\n This letter is to convey to you the news of your brothers death. His ship floundered on the rocks at Southwold, and there were no survivors. You are the last of the Cartwright line now, Francis, descended from your fathers side that is, the late Benjamin Cartwright.<\/p>\n God speed and trust all is well with you \u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026..<\/p>\n Aberdeen,Scotland 1627<\/p>\n William Stoddard sat down at his desk and dipped his pen into the ink well. The small croft house in which he lived was damp and cold, the peat fire was smoking, sending billowing black smoke into the room. Beside the fire sat his wife nursing her first born child, a son, and being the first born they called him Abel. Margaret Stoddard was crooning a song softly over the head of the infant, heedless of the smoke and the damp for her world consisted of more solid things \u2026 her world was that of her son, and her husband.<\/p>\n He watched them with a tenderness of a young man who was romantic in his ways, a lover of books and of writing, but now he returned to the letter and carefully wrote the reply to his mothers own which he slipped later into an oil skin package<\/p>\n \u201cDearest mother,<\/p>\n Margaret is well and delivered of a son, we have called him Abel. He is strong and lusty, a bonny bairn.<\/p>\n I have work, mother, do not worry now. I teach at the small school here at Kincorth, and send you here some money to bide you a wee whilie.<\/p>\n Now then, I believe John will tak good care of you, he is a good son and his wife a fine besom. Be of good faith now, mother, and God bless you all.<\/p>\n Your son \u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026<\/p>\n Massachusetts, 1635<\/p>\n John Winthrop* was a strong minded wealthy man, born an aristocrat at Groton Manor, in Suffolk. It was his family that would pocket the profits made by the Lavenham weavers, like the Fawcett family, and the wool merchants in Suffolk. He was however, an inflexible Puritan, appalled by the impurities of the Court, by the corruption, by economic inflation and depression.<\/p>\n He sailed with his family in the flagship of a fleet of four ships in 1630. Once arrived at Massachussetts he secured a royal charter for The Company of Massachusetts Bay in New England.* He set up an industry that was to be bring about great prosperity for the settlement, he founded a fleet of ships to deliver cargoes of codfish to anybody willing to pay the price.<\/p>\n Francis Cartwright lowered the anchor and glanced up at the sails as they filled with the strengthening winds. He was first mate on the ship \u2018Pickering\u2019, even though he had to acknowledge the fact that the Captain knew even less about seamanship than he did himself. He watched the ship turn from the harbour and make out to sea and then walked to the stern and waved his hat in farewell to Annie, to Benjamin, now nearly 8 years of age, and baby Sarah. Between the birth of Benjamin and Sarah there had been three other children and he had carefully penned their names, births and deaths in the big family bible that he had brought with him from England.<\/p>\n Joseph Cartwright born October 1629 died November 1629 Winthrops coming had been a boon for the settlement, and Francis had ensured himself a position whereby he could mostly benefit from it. When the fleet of ships were being built he put himself forward to be master of one of them, and been awarded this promotion as a result. It had come at the right time too, for the health of his little wife was becoming frail and now with a good income at last, he had been able to afford the hiring of a maid for her, and a woman to care for the little ones.<\/p>\n It was a joy now this life. There was a security to it that no King set up to rule by divine right could touch, the land was beautiful, the climate perfect and the cod filled their nets with an obliging ease. For a Grimsby man life could not have been more perfect than that.<\/p>\n Chapter 4<\/p>\n There was silence for some moments as Ben drew on his pipe and sent little puffs of smoke into the ceiling void above his head, Adam leaned over to place some more wood on the fire having earlier rekindled it in order to warm the room for the evening had grown colder as it had crept into night.<\/p>\n Ben looked thoughtfully into his son\u2019s handsome face and smiled, he sat upright and leaned forward<\/p>\n \u201cYou know, I have some documents that could add to what we have here,\u201d he smiled, \u201cI\u2019ll go and get them.\u201d<\/p>\n Adam sighed, and leaned back into his chair. He clasped his hands together and then steepled his fingers to tap against his mouth as he looked thoughtfully down at the papers spread out in front of him.<\/p>\n \u201cYou know, Pa, perhaps we should draw up a family tree, you know?\u201d his voice held a little tremor of excitement, this was just the most perfect project to get involved in during the coming evenings, \u201cNames and dates, births and deaths,\u201d he glanced at the list of names and dates written in the family bible and sighed, it had been sad seeing the names of Francis and Ann\u2019s infants, the ones that had died so young.<\/p>\n \u201cGood idea -\u201d Ben replied from the other side of the room, and closed the door to the safe, he smiled and returned to his chair before placing some documents down on the table, \u201cThese could add some more information to the Cartwright side of the family.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou should be able to add quite a few stories of your own, Pa.\u201d Adam smiled, as he poured a little more whiskey into the glasses, \u201cI mean, Grandfather must have told you bits and pieces of life when he was a boy and perhaps -\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh now,\u201d Ben chuckled, \u201cI could tell you some stories that would make your hair curl, but I\u2019ll tell them to you when we get to the relevant parts. The thing is, Adam, letters and papers only give us the bare bones of what happened in the past. We can only conjecture and make vague guesses at what was meant or what was happening .\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI know, but -\u201d Adams voice trailed off in the way that some of his ancestors would have recognised so well, and smiled at, \u201cI never knew a William Stoddard before, I didn\u2019t know he was a school teacher in Aberdeen, Scotland. I didn\u2019t know that Francis Cartwright had been a seaman all those years ago -\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAh, well, that\u2019s who we can blame for the salt water in our veins,\u201d Ben smiled now, and wished his son was still a little boy so that he could lean forward and ruffle those black curls again as once he did, he sighed, \u201cIt\u2019s quite a journey, this travelling back in time, I mean, it\u2019s not just Francis and Ann Cartwright we\u2019re learning about, is it?\u201d<\/p>\n Adam narrowed his eyes, raised his eyebrows and smiled, his mind was drifting; good whiskey, a warm room, an ambience perfect for weaving dreams about the names of people who had links to his blood line but about whom he had known nothing until this day.<\/p>\n Dreams \u2026 dreams \u2026sadly the reality of those lives had been far harsher than any dream.<\/p>\n \u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026..<\/p>\n Massachusetts in the year 1647<\/p>\n News of the Civil War in England between the Stuart King and the Parliamentarians had arrived with greater speed than most would have imagined. Sea trade between the home country and the colonies had been a constant feature to commercial life and new settlers had arrived with the information on a near constant level until emigration had ceased due to hostilities.<\/p>\n Francis Cartwright had laughed aloud when he had been told that a man from Huntingdon from the County of Cambridgeshire had set himself up as head of the opposing forces against Charles Stuart. Oliver Cromwell* had rallied an army from Cambridgeshire and Lincolnshire and their yellow waistcoats were the symbols of Lincolnshire men, known as \u2018yellow bellies\u2019* .<\/p>\n \u201cThere now, \u201c he had declared, slapping his knee as though to confirm the fact, \u201cCromwell\u2019s \u2018yellow bellies\u2019 will lick the tar out of those Royalists, see if they don\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPerhaps we should ship you back to join forces with them,\u201d Ben had said quietly, \u201cBeing a Grimsby man after all -\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnd proud of it -\u201d Francis retorted quickly, he had reached for his pipe then and sat down with a slight frown on his face, \u201cLincolnshire men are a tenacious lot, they\u2019ll do Cromwell proud.\u201d<\/p>\n But that had been some time ago now, and Winthrop had replaced the Royal Coat of Arms with \u2018The Sacred Cod\u2019 as the official Massachusetts emblem. He had built more ships and loaded them with provisions for the slave holding planters who grew tobacco or sugar in the West Indies. Slavery was, apart from Englands Civil War, another subject that got the Cartwright mens juices flowing. Slaves were arriving in * vast numbers every month in Virginia, and as the sea was still the main thoroughfare between the settlements * the poor wretches were transported regularly throughout the colonies. It was a \u2018trade\u2019 that Francis had deplored and it had cost him his seat in the community\u2019s Government.<\/p>\n But the family continued to prosper and Benjamin had grown into a handsome young man, capable with his hands and able to turn to any trade. He was not a sea man like his father, more of an artisan by profession, and if Francis were disappointed at his sons\u2018 choice of work he said nothing. Sarah was blossoming into a pretty young woman, and already attracting attention from the single men in the community.<\/p>\n In 1647 he was twenty years of age, with his eyes set upon a young woman called Cathleen Whitmore. He was already busy building a home for his wife and himself, on land that he had purchased from Winthrop himself. He was a Puritan, as was his intended wife, and he was already well respected by the authorities. In a society that was really only as old as himself, laws were set down with a force backed up by scripture, personal conduct was circumvented by secular law and reinforced by religion.<\/p>\n Life, as Francis would lament, did not have the freedoms enjoyed by himself when a young lad in Grimsby, for in the colonies prison existed for the smallest theft, for the singing of lewd songs, for drunkenness. The stocks existed for any infringement of the law, and adultery meant death. There were times when Francis, in quiet moments with his pipe and beside his own fire, looked back on his youth in England, and realised the truth of the old adage that one didn\u2019t appreciate what one had until one had lost it.<\/p>\n It was the summer of that year when Benjamin Cartwright married his Cathleen, and took her to their new home.<\/p>\n \u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026<\/p>\n Aberdeen in the year 1647<\/p>\n The clearancess in Scotland and the islands, even as far as Shetland, are a matter of history but relating more to the 18th and 19th Century when there was mass emigration of Scots throughout the colonised worlds. But clearances took place long before those years, at the whim of the Laird whole villages could be \u2018cleared\u2019, vast tracts of lands scoured to remove the wiliest crofter, and no matter what excuse or reason to stay it would often end with blood on the land.<\/p>\n From the time the Chiefs of the Clans elected to have Chiefs to dictate over them and set them up as Lairds the authority of the Laird became absolute. The law was in his hand and even though he may have resided in a fancy house in Edinburgh, or Dundee, or even London itself, when his hand reached out and exercised his \u2018rights\u2019 then heads could literally roll and end up on a spike atop the city gates.<\/p>\n Men from Kincorth gathered at the school teachers home, some clad in the tartan traditional to their clan and some in the rags they stood up in day in and day out. As each man arrived the door opened and closed silently behind them.<\/p>\n \u201cWell, are we all here?\u201d \u201cAll present .\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAye.\u201d<\/p>\n A stillness settled over them, and from his corner of the room hidden in the shadows created by so many men, Abel Stoddard watched and listened.<\/p>\n \u201cDo you all know what is happening here?\u201d Williams voice again, and his eyes scanned the faces he had come to know so well.<\/p>\n \u201cAye, the Laird wants us out -\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe\u2019s going to burn us out, so\u2019s said.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAye, I heard same – what\u2019s going to happen to us and the wee\u2019ans?\u201d<\/p>\n William stood up, he was not a tall man, he was not a handsome man, but he had a dignity about him and quietened them all when he raised his hand<\/p>\n \u201cTomorrow I shall go to the Provost in Aberdeen and plead our case -\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cT\u2019won\u2019t make nay diff\u2019rence\u201d Tulloch McGear growled.<\/p>\n \u201cPerhaps not,\u201d Williams voice held a sigh in it, and he looked again at the men, \u201cI shall then go to the Procurator Fiscal -\u201d<\/p>\n Duncan McManus spat on the floor, that was what he thought of the Procurator Fiscal.<\/p>\n \u201cWe have to go through the legal channels first -\u201d Williams voice soothed, \u201cAt least to know what alternatives there are open to us.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThis bit of paper -\u201d McGear slammed the paper on the table, angered by its presence all the more so because he couldn\u2019t read it and hadn\u2019t believed what was said in it when it had been read out to him, \u201cis only good for one thing, it means nothing, just threats hiding behind words\u201d \u201cWhat about our women? The childer?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cEnough now\u201d Abel\u2019s voice broke into the clamour, he stepped forward now, taller, stronger built than his father and with the flaming red hair of a true Scot, he elbowed past McGear to stand beside his father, \u201cWe have to find out what we can do for them, and angry words spoken when the laird\u2019s men come won\u2019t help any one of us. We need to act before they come and going to the legal men here is the best and only way that can be done.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThen I\u2019ll come with you,\u201d Old Magnie said, his voice a piping thin reed coming from the depths of his tubercular lungs.<\/p>\n \u201cAye, and I also -\u201d McGear thumped his fist on the table and was encouraged by the growls of voices around him.<\/p>\n \u201cVery well, and a fine rabble we\u2019ll be to represent Kincorth to be sure -\u201d murmured William with a sigh and a smile, but hadn\u2019t it been as he expected after all? The men of Kincorth had always stood together, no matter what befell them.<\/p>\n William slipped into his pocket the paper that McGear had placed on the table, later that evening he placed it in an oil skin package that until then had contained a letter from his mother, and a small document confirming his employment as schoolmaster of Kincorth in the county of Aberdeenshire.<\/p>\n Chapter 5<\/p>\n Adam sighed and placed the slip of paper back onto the table, then glanced over at Ben who was looking down through the list of names in the bible,<\/p>\n \u201cThis is dated 1647 – a demand for the tenant of the property in Kincorth to vacate the premises by the 10th December or risk being burned out -\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHmh, sounds like the clearances that took place throughout Scotland.\u201d Ben put the bible down and took the paper from Adams hand and scanned the words, \u201cSigned by the Procurator Fiscal on behalf of the Laird – can\u2019t read his name – poor devils, I wonder what happened to them?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPerhaps this gives us a clue -\u201d Adam replied softly and passed over another slip of paper that bore the date 10th December 1647,<\/p>\n \u201cDeath certificate for one William Stoddard, school teacher, during a riot at Kincorth\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHere\u2019s a newspaper cutting, can barely make out the words -\u201d Adam held it closer to the light – \u201cIt is regretted that several men, one of whom was the local school teacher William Stoddard, were killed while resisting the Laird\u2019s men during their legal and rightful occup – what\u2019s that ?- occupations in removing unlawful tenants from the properties at Kincorth. Other men from Kincorth have enlisted into the Royalist Army to fight for our King, Charles of Scotland and England and Wales.\u201d<\/p>\n They glanced at one another, thoughtful, pensive. The past had reached out and tapped them on the shoulder, reminding them that they too, were merely dust.<\/p>\n \u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026.<\/p>\n Fochabers in Morayshire, 1649<\/p>\n The baby was small, smaller than average with a pinched little face and tired blue eyes, but he sucked vigorously at his mother\u2019s breast and gazed into her face as even the fattest of babies would and do; Rhiannan Stoddard looked over at her husband and smiled,<\/p>\n \u201cHe\u2019s coming along real bonny now, Abel.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe is, thank God.\u201d he leaned forward and stroked the little chin, gaining a swift glance of acknowledgement from the blue eyes before they returned to gaze at his mother.<\/p>\n \u201cHe\u2019s like your father,\u201d she whispered softly, \u201cDon\u2019t you think so?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAye, there\u2019s a likeness.\u201d Abel nodded, and passed his hand down the back of her sleek black hair.<\/p>\n \u201cDavid William Stoddard, you\u2019ll grow into a big strong mannie, surely.\u201d<\/p>\n He left her to croon over the child and walked to the small fire which he began to build up so that more warmth came into the room. It was a small house, but it was good enough and pleased he was to have got it after the debacle at Kincorth. He sat down and stared into the now hungry flames and bowed his head.<\/p>\n His father – oh, pitiful heavens what a miserable death for a man so fine as him, but he had been brave, and he had stood his ground with the men at Kincorth. Abel sighed and put a hand to his brow, as he recalled the day the Laird\u2019s men had come to the small hamlet. Their flaming torches indicated their intentions, their blustering legal man on his fat little pony meant not a word of his cajoling, there was the blood lust in their eyes and no pleading from the school teacher, nor the Priest would quell it.<\/p>\n Sleet and snow had been driving down all day, the roads and paths were slick with mud and ice, the skies were black and lowering but that mean nothing to the Laird\u2019s men who had brushed the men of Kincorth to one side and entered the houses, pulling out the women and children, even old Mother McGear so crippled with her arthritis that she was thrown out still clinging to her rocking chair.<\/p>\n The tartans of different clans had swirled together in the blasts of wind driven snow, and the hair of women and children had mingled together as they had crouched low to avoid the blows of the cudgels and pikes. And when they had seen their men felled to the ground there had been a wild keening sound from their throats that had made Abel Stoddard turn away in despair and seek a place of solace among the rocks so that he could howl his own anguish.<\/p>\n They had stood and watched their homes burn, their goods and chattels got covered with snow and sleet, but no one cared, they huddled over their mens bodies and Abel remembered young Tulloch, his little brother, crying for his mam, who had been spared this ordeal by her own death the previous year.<\/p>\n Abel couldn\u2019t remember how he had reached Aberdeen with Tulloch in his arms, and Magnus, Jamie and Elizabeth trailing along with him. His wife Rhiannan had stepped out with them, and gone to the Procurator Fiscal with him to plead for help. That was how he got the posting as school teacher at Fochabers in Morayshire at the mouth of the River Spey.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s going to be a bad year,\u201d he said suddenly, \u201ca bad year for Scotland.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhy do you say that?\u201d she looked over her baby\u2019s head, a slight frown on her face, and looked over at where Tulloch was sleeping close to his brother Magnie. \u201cHush, don\u2019t fear them\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat can Scotland expect now, they betrayed their King at Naseby* and now he\u2019s dead. Haven\u2019t they murdered the King himself at Whitehall *only yesterday?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI hadn\u2019t heard -\u201d she said, after all, \u2018yesterday\u2019 had been a day of pain and a blur in itself, being the day of her birthing David.<\/p>\n \u201cRegicide, the Scots betrayed a Scottish King, a Stuart. Do you think England will forget that?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt was an English axe that took off his head, Abel,\u201d Jamie piped up from his huddle of blankets, \u201cAnd an English parliament that ordered his execution.*\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAye, and Cromwell\u2019s English through and through -\u201d Magnus piped up, \u201cYou said so yourself time enough, Abel.\u201d<\/p>\n \u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026.<\/p>\n Massachutsetts in the year 1649<\/p>\n Winthrop was dead. * He had died at the age of 61 years* after 12 times being elected as Governor of the colony, and he died, still in office.<\/p>\n Benjamin Cartwright was a father now, a little girl called Jane, and his wife, Cathleen was plump already with her second. He was a happy man, a contented man, and it seemed that all that he touched turned to gold. His father, Francis, would quote him the story of the King who turned everything to gold at the touch of his hand<\/p>\n \u201cHe died wealthy then, father.\u201d Ben would quip, knowing the end of the story so well and they would laugh together.<\/p>\n He didn\u2019t worry about the death of a far off King of England, nor that Cromwell had been proclaimed Lord Protector* of Great Britain and the outer islands, his concern now was the Governorship of the colony and how it would run without Winthrop\u2019s stern disciplinary hand for there were already dissenting voices to be heard.<\/p>\n Another important occasion for Ben had recently taken place, for he had approached the Chief of the Wampanoags*, Massasoit, and gone through a ceremony with him that had transferred a thousand acres of land to him. Most of the settlers never bothered to go through such ceremonies, thinking, rather complacently that the native Americans were too complacent, too lazy, to bother with such things. But Ben was a discerning man, and curious as to the ways of these strange native people who still spoke of the white man John Rolfe who had taken their beloved Pocohontas* to the land across the sea to die there.<\/p>\n This was New England, settlements were crowding in upon one another, new colonies were being forged futher inland, and Ben was sensible enough to realise that the true owners of the land would one day realise that what had been theirs for centuries was slowly being nibbled away from them, and would, perhaps, one day decide to grab it all back.<\/p>\n \u201cYou made a good deal with the Chief -\u201d Francis began cautiously, for he had little tolerance of the native Indians whom he felt had too much arrogance in the way they would strut through their colonies as though the land upon which they trod still belonged to them.<\/p>\n \u201cYes, he\u2019s an honourable man.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWon\u2019t make much difference, a thousand acres, two thousand – what does it mean to them, they\u2019ve been giving it away for years.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThey may want it back again one day, Pa. With blood.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPah, nonsense, such talk is just to scare the children, like talking about bogey men -\u201d and Francis leaned forward to tweak little Jane\u2019s curls.<\/p>\n \u201cYou forget about Staten Island*, the way the Dutch treated the Mohicans and Raritans? The Indians here heard all about it, they won\u2019t forget -\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThey won\u2019t forget what happens if Indians try any nonsense against us settlers. The Dutch whipped those Indians good and hard.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThey massacred them.\u201d Ben said softly, \u201cAnd it won\u2019t be forgotten.\u201d<\/p>\n Chapter 6<\/p>\n \u201cTake a look at this, son,\u201d Ben passed over a piece of parchment with some rather stately calligraphy on it, \u201cLooks like some kind of contract.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt is,\u201d Adam agreed after reading it carefully, and he looked at his father and then at the papers in Bens hand, \u201cHow long have you had this stuff collecting dust in that safe of yours?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYears.\u201d Ben said thoughtfully, \u201cAnd before it went into my safe I can recall seeing it in an old box in my fathers study. I recall asking him what they were and he used to just tap it and say \u2018Family history\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnd you never read any of it?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOnce or twice I glanced at them or just sifted through the papers to see what it was all about, but to tell you the truth, Adam, looking through dusty old family papers never had any appeal to me.\u201d he pulled a wry face and then grinned rather sheepishly, \u201cI remember when Pa gave them to me wishing he had handed them to John, I just tossed the lot into a box and forgot about them.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell, you should have read through it more carefully, Pa, according to this contract we own over a 1000 acres of Massachusetts, signed by your namesake Benjamin Cartwright in 1649 and the mark stands for a Chief -\u201d he narrowed his eyes to try and read the spelling of the name, and shook his head, \u201cI wonder whether this is still legal?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI doubt it,\u201d Ben rose to his feet and rubbed his chin, \u201cI think I\u2019ll sleep well enough now, and it\u2019s late, Adam, why not put this away now until tomorrow.\u201d<\/p>\n His son smiled and nodded, and looked regretfully at the papers. He carefully gathered the Stoddard pile back into the old oilskin wrapper,<\/p>\n \u201cWhy do you think Abel kept all this, Pa?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhy not? What we\u2019ve read so far meant something to the person concerned for them to have tucked it all away, perhaps they wanted someone to come along and find them, to know what happened, to give their lives some significance; I don\u2019t know -\u201d he shrugged slightly before glancing over at the map on the wall of the Ponderosa, then looked again at his son, \u201cIt\u2019s a strange thing really, for the first time in hundreds of years, these people – our family – have come alive again. I never knew there was a Benjamin Cartwright living that far back although I must have seen his name in the family bible countless times.\u201d<\/p>\n Massachusetts in the year 1675<\/p>\n It seemed no matter how conciliatory Benjamin Cartwright had been to the native American tribesmen, the majority of settlers were not, and their constant invasion into the territory of peace loving people became a source of constant alarm and concern to Massasosit\u2019s son, Metacom.*<\/p>\n Slowly and surely he began to make alliances with other tribes, the Narragansetts* being among this strangely assorted confederacy of Indians. As his agitation increased the settlers attempted to calm his fears by flattery, proclaiming him as King Philip of Pokanoket*, a title which he accepted with the contempt it deserved.<\/p>\n Benjamin Cartwright watched with fearful concerns for the welfare of the New Englanders, but it seemed that the majority held the same attitude towards \u2018King Philip\u2019 as his father, Francis, had done; his warnings fell upon deaf ears.<\/p>\n In the year 1675 Ben was the father of three healthy children, and grandfather to four. Jane was a married woman with children of her own and lived in one of the settlements in Virginia, Jessica was also married and had gone with her husband to the West Indies as missionaries. They had sailed from their home with beautific smiles upon their na\u00efve and innocent faces and from that moment on had never been heard of again. Joseph Cartwright had married a pretty young woman called Molly Taylor in 1672 and was the father of Daniel and David, twins, born in 1674. While David thrived, Daniel had not, and his name had been entered into the family bible having lived less than three days.<\/p>\n \u201cCan you hear that?\u201d<\/p>\n Cathleen turned to look at her husband and was about to ask him exactly what it was that she was supposed to hear when she heard it herself, the scattered sounds of gunfire.<\/p>\n \u201cA hunting party?\u201d she speculated.<\/p>\n He walked to the door of the house and leaned against the doorframe, his tall figure blocking the sun from the room. He stood very still for some moments before turning towards her,<\/p>\n \u201cGet your cloak and put some food in a basket. Hurry -\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHurry? But why? What\u2019s happening?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cJust do as I say -\u201d<\/p>\n As he spoke he was hurrying to the cupboard where he kept his rifle, pistol and ammunition. He put his powder horn over his shoulder, his bullet pouch was full of bullets, the tin patch box and the box of caps were pushed hurriedly into his pockets and then turning to her he grabbed at her elbow and pulled her along to his side,<\/p>\n \u201cThere\u2019s not much time, we have to get to Josephs right away.\u201d<\/p>\n Cathleen said nothing, she held the ends of her shawl tightly together and at practically a run she kept pace with him as he strode down across the yard and down the track to where Josephs house had been built.<\/p>\n Their son was already standing at the door, staring out to the horizon with his own rifle in his hands, there was everywhere an air of the most strange tension as above any other discernible noise was the sound of gunfire.<\/p>\n \u201cNo one\u2019s out hunting -\u201d Joseph said quietly as his father stepped through the door, \u201cThere have been rumours that the Wampanoigs have begun attacking the colonists.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI had heard the same,\u201d Ben replied and pushed his wife further into the house, where Molly and the little boy were waiting for them in the big room. \u201cI think we should prepare ourselves for a fight, although I hope and pray that it doesn\u2019t come to that -\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI think we should try and get to the stockade, our houses are too vulnerable here, and no matter how well you got on with Philip, I doubt if it will carry much favour with them now.\u201d<\/p>\n Ben could say nothing to that, but only nod in agreement. Molly was bundling the little boy into his jacket and Cathleen was grabbing at what food she could get into another basket, everything was conducted in silence except for the whispers of a mother pretending to her child that all was well.<\/p>\n They reached the wagon and set the horses in the direction of the centre of the settlement, other colonists were doing the same, so that the roadway was soon blocked by the wagons and the horses all hurrying to congregate where they felt most safe. Whenever they turned their heads they saw evidence that their worse fears were well founded, smoke plumed into the sky from the fires that was burning their wheat, from the houses on the fringes of the settlement. Gunfire was less now, but no one dared to say what the reason for that could have been just in case they were proven right.<\/p>\n The Wampanoigs, Narragansetts and their allies attacked towards the middle of the day. Their weapons were primitive, but effective, fire arrows, lances, and the dreaded axe put to good use as they plied their strength against the settlers. For a full two days the colonists fought hard against their opponents, ,they saw their homes burning, their animals slaughtered and their fields under black clouds of smoke. All the while the Indians attacked with their full force, their war cries shrill and seemingly neverending.<\/p>\n But it did end upon their withdrawal, not beaten nor unbowed, but retreating nonetheless. After some time the colonists eventually left the safety of the stockade to count their own losses, which were considerable.<\/p>\n \u201cWill they come again?\u201d Molly asked her husband as she slipped her hand into his own, and together surveyed the smoking ruins of their home.<\/p>\n \u201cI hope not,\u201d he looked at his father and mother, \u201cDo you think they will?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWho can tell, I never thought -\u201d Benjamin paused, shook his head, \u201cI never thought they would go so far as this.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThey can\u2019t possibly win,\u201d Joseph said with a calm certainty that shook his father, \u201cWe won\u2019t let them.\u201d<\/p>\n There was an echo there, Ben thought to himself, he could almost hear his father\u2019s voice from all those years ago. Well, he sighed, an acorn doesn\u2019t fall far from the tree, not even here.<\/p>\n \u2018King Philip\u2019 and his warriors attacked 52 settlements*, destroying twelve of them, and after several months of fighting only succeeded in having his people practically exterminated, himself killed and his wife and child, along with other Indian women and children, sold into slavery*.<\/p>\n The alliance between the colonists and the Native American was at an end.<\/p>\n Boston in the year 1676<\/p>\n The ship was docked at last, what a too-ing and a fro-ing and so many ships piled into the harbour. David William Stoddard stood beside his wife, Morag, and watched with an intense interest as seamen set to in order to get the gangplank ready for the passengers to disembark. He pointed out various things of interest to Siobhan, his little daughter, while Abel the infant dribbled milk upon his mother\u2019s shawl.<\/p>\n \u201cLook, Siobhan, look over there, see how the man ropes this ship to that bollard?\u201d then he was pointing to something else, \u201cSee? Over there? Look at the carriage, my, what a fine horse is that! Siobhan, one day you\u2019ll ride in a carriage just as grand, I swear it.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDavid, don\u2019t make promises you may not be able to keep.\u201d Morag whispered, conscious now that they were gaining the attention of other passengers who were passing, looking over at them and smiling.<\/p>\n \u201cWhisht, woman, stop fretting now – isn\u2019t it just so grand to see now? Didn\u2019t you say just days back that we would never get here?\u201d and he laughed and kissed her cheek<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s because I was sea sick,\u201d she chided him, but laughed as well, no one could resist David when he was happy and laughing.<\/p>\n But she was frightened, even amid all this clamour and bustle, she was so frightened. It had been hard to leave her parents and David\u2019s mother back in Fochabers, and now even the memory of that parting was fading away under the weight of new fears. She felt her husband take her arm and anxiously she turned to him,<\/p>\n \u201cIt will be alright, won\u2019t it?\u201d she whispered<\/p>\n \u201cEverything will be alright, Morag, everything, I promise you.\u201d<\/p>\n She marvelled at his confidence. There was no work, no home, no prospects and here they were in a new land, a new town, where everything was all noise and hustle and bustle, and she knew no one, no one at all, not like back home where everyone knew everyone else, and even knew their history to way back forever.<\/p>\n She clutched Abel closer to her, and carefully made her way down the gangplank. She shivered, back home she would have said someone had walked over her grave, but she didn\u2019t think she would be allowed to say that here, not now.<\/p>\n Siobhan reached out to take her hand, and she clutched hold of it tightly as she stepped down to the wharf side and took her place by her husbands side. There was no turning back now, she told herself, she would just have to grin and bear it.<\/p>\n David William Stoddard glanced back at the ship, up at the sails and released his breath. She was a beautiful ship, and he had enjoyed every moment on board her. There was an awakening in his blood for something he had never experienced before, a feeling of wonderment and awe and a love for the sea that was stronger than he had ever imagined.<\/p>\n When his father had died several years previously he had fully intended to remain at Fochabers, but had been far too young to have taken his father\u2019s position as school teacher. He and his family had been forced to leave the school house and find other premises, and he had worked hard on the croft, hard enough to afford marriage to Morag when he had reached the age of 21 years.<\/p>\n Life had been good to them, cattle had fattened, and sheep seemed to multiply almost as much as the rabbits that enjoyed their produce. Morag was a good hard working wife, and he knew that he could have wished for none other than her. But shortly before the birth of their son, David had become restless. He read about the colonies, about the establishing of settlements and townships, and after a while he knew that more than anything else, he wanted to be there, to be part of it all.<\/p>\n And now, here they were, in Boston, part of it all.<\/p>\n Chapter 7<\/p>\n Hoss and Joe listened to their brother as Adam related the things they had learned about their family; Hoss nodded thoughtfully while his mind trailed off to other concerns like the fact that the saplings they had planted in the spring really hadn\u2019t come along so well as they should have done, and perhaps he should mention it to Pa once Adam stopped spouting on about Stoddards and Cartwrights. Joe found it all intriguing, exclaiming every so often a \u2019Wow\u2019 or \u2019You don\u2019t say? So what happened to them next?\u2019 which irritated Hoss a little because that encouraged Adam to say more and he just knew that if he didn\u2019t get a chance to mention about the saplings soon then any opportunity to do so would be missed, because he would just plumb forget!<\/p>\n \u201cWell, that explains everything -\u201d Joe finally said with a chortle, \u201cNow we know why you are so good at making a dime do the work of a dollar, and hoard your money away like you do.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt does?\u201d Adam frowned, giving his brother what could only be described as a \u2019thin smile\u2019<\/p>\n \u201cIt does?\u201d echoed Hoss who had lost track of which family line they had been discussing prior to Joe\u2019s interruption.<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, obviously,\u201d Joe reached for another slice of bread, \u201cAll those Scots folk in the Stoddard line, stands to reason. He\u2019ll be buying a set of bag pipes soon, Hoss, and serenading us to bed like they do.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThey do?\u201d Hoss looked blankly from Joe to Adam who merely raised his eyebrows as though to respond to his little brothers comments was just too far beneath his dignity, \u201cYou ain\u2019t, are ya?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat?\u201d Adam frowned,<\/p>\n \u201cGoing to buy bagpipes?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cCertainly not,\u201d Adam replied with a scorching look at Joe who had began to laugh harder than ever.<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s good,\u201d Hoss muttered and looked over at Ben who was engrossed in thoughts of his own, \u201cPa, I was -\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDid Adam tell you that there\u2019s a thousand acres of land we own in Massachusetts?\u201d Ben declared, and Hoss clamped his mouth shut and groaned beneath his breath.<\/p>\n \u201cA thousand acres?\u201d Joe whistled, \u201cHow come we never got to know about them? Could be anyone\u2019s gone and built on it now. Hey, Hoss, reckon we should ride on over and check it out?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt ain\u2019t jest down the road you know,\u201d Hoss said with a slight scowl.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ll probably find out more about that when I check over the papers later this evening.\u201d Adam said quietly, he smiled to himself, and then sighed as his mind drifted to other things that he had learned, some of which had even intruded into his dreams that night.<\/p>\n Joe followed Hoss in getting up from the table, they were both scheduled to check over the cattle in the north pasture, he dropped his napkin on the table and as he passed his brother he placed a hand on his shoulder,<\/p>\n \u201cNow, just make sure you don\u2019t come home from town today with red hair and wearing a sporran.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIdiot,\u201d Adam chuckled, \u201cYou don\u2019t even know what a sporran is.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSure I do,\u201d Joe frowned, buckling his gun belt carefully around his waist, \u201cIt\u2019s what Scots wear on their heads to keep their hair on.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cRubbish, that\u2019s a tam o\u2019shanter.\u201d Adam\u2019s laugh was light, good humoured, and he pushed himself away from the table and stood up, \u201cA sporran is what they put their money in.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAh ha, there you go, it always comes back to money with you, doesn\u2019t it? Never mind, \u201c Joe laughed again, \u201cyou can\u2019t help it being a Scotsman.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s enough, Joe, Hoss, there\u2019s work to be done and it\u2019s not getting done while you both loiter around here.\u201d he looked over at Adam who was now buckling on his gun belt \u201cAdam, when you go into town will you take that letter into Weems?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSure, just leave it ready for me to pick up.\u201d<\/p>\n The three men walked to the stables, Adam deep in thought, Joe whistling some tune which he thought was close enough to be Scottish, and Hoss trying to remember what it was he had forgotten to say but which he had thought was important at the time it first came to his mind.<\/p>\n \u201cSee you boys later -\u201d Adam said as he mounted Sport and swung the horse in the direction of town.<\/p>\n Boston in the year 1679<\/p>\n Morag Sutherland Stoddard looked anxiously over in the direction of her husband as she poured yet another tankard of ale for yet another customer. She worked hard at the tavern and over the years since being in Boston they had benefited well from the work. It had been a real blessing when, almost as soon as they had stepped foot on the wharf David had overheard someone mentioning about an inn keeper being required for a tavern just round the corner from the harbour front, and David had walked in, put forward his case and got the job. Perhaps the sight of Morag\u2019s pretty face had swung it for him, that was what Morag liked to think anyway.<\/p>\n But despite it all working out so well it was obvious life as an inn keeper wasn\u2019t what David wanted in life. They had three children now, Sheelagh had arrived two years previously, and it seemed to Morag that the work in the inn was getting simply more and more difficult because David was such a day dreamer.<\/p>\n Or was it something else other than his being prone to looking back on life in Scotland? She wondered whether he was wishing to return to the wild heather clad hills and the fresh clean air that blew in across the Spey? She watched him now and sighed, sitting at the table, tankard in hand and listening to the yarns of the sailors.<\/p>\n That\u2019s what he liked to do most of all it seemed to her, drink and talk, or listen to those seamen. He would be dreamy eyed and lethargic for the rest of the evening, and she, well, she would have to be bustling about and pulling the ale and serving the customers. Then cooking the meals, feeding the children, and getting them to bed, before getting back to the duties of the inn.<\/p>\n She pushed a strand of hair from her face and pulled it over her ear, glanced once again at her husband, and was about to speak when a man shouted<\/p>\n \u201cHey, Davy boy, give us one of them songs of your\u2019n?\u201d<\/p>\n Typical, Morag groaned inwardly, typical of that big old Scotsman who had decided to adopt the Stoddards as family, seeing that he was, or claimed that he was, a neighbour of theirs having moved to Boston from Nairn, in Scotland. She watched as Davy, flushed with pleasure and pride, rose to his feet, picked up his fiddle and began to play the tune to Alexander Hume’s Lament ‘The Scottish Emigrants Farewell’<\/p>\n Scottish Emigrant’s Farewell Tho’ far frae thee, my native shore, Loud cheers, hands clapping and tankards thudding upon the tables. Aye, Davy\u2019s voice and fiddle playing brought in the customers alright, but it was Morag who did all the work.<\/p>\n \u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026..<\/p>\n Massachusetts in the year 1679<\/p>\n It had been a terrible accident, no one had any intention of harm when they had set out that morning for the hunting expedition, but it had happened and the consequences for the Cartwright family were indeed dire.<\/p>\n Joseph had arranged the hunt with several other young men, and Ben had joined them with his gun slung over his shoulder as always. It had taken an hour to find the spoor of a deer, and they followed it carefully, stealthily through the woodlands and thickets.<\/p>\n Ben had been the first to see the animal and had tapped Joe on the shoulder, pointed and nodded, and with a smile Joe had nodded in return. In those days men went to hunt with their guns loaded, for if a wild bear or any wild creature were to come at them there was no time for them to stand about while loading the gun, no one wanted to meet trouble and find their gun empty. Powder had to measured out, put in and shaken down, then the patch and the bullet would have to be pounded down, and then a fresh cap under the hammer – once the ball was on its way the whole procedure had to be repeated, and woe to the hunter who couldn\u2019t fell the beast in that first shot for an injured animal was the worse of its kind and would leave no man time to reload.<\/p>\n Ben rose slowly to his feet, and moved carefully through the undergrowth, knelt and took aim. Joe heard the shot, rose to his feet and moved forward to join his father and it was then that young Jason Meredith fired his own gun and Joseph Cartwright , with not even a cry, fell to the ground.<\/p>\n The bullet had entered through the temple, a clean clear shot, he had no chance of recovery, death had been instantaneous. Jason Meredith had fainted at the sight, and at the realisation that it had been his own weapon that had fired the bullet. When he had regained his senses he had whispered to his father that he had thought Joe was the deer, for the jacket he had worn blended in so well with the foliage, he had caught a movement out of the corner of his eye, seen what appeared to be the deer and fired without pausing for thought.<\/p>\n Ben had gathered his son into his arms, cradled him close to his breast and laid his cheek upon the dark curls of hair. His son, his beloved, his dearly beloved \u2026 he could say nothing, it seemed as though his throat had been seized by a hand with fingers like steel, but the tears had fallen and when sound did return he howled like a man possessed, and such he was for grief devoured him.<\/p>\n The days and the weeks rolled by like a river, relentless and never stopping, but to Ben and Cathleen Cartwright it seemed as though their world had ended. The only joy in their life was David, Joseph\u2019s only son.<\/p>\n Boston in the year 1680<\/p>\n David Stoddard held his wife\u2019s hand and looked into her face, he looked hard in order to see whether or not she had understood what he had said to her. It was true, she had gone very pale, and there was a red blotch on each cheek, beneath his hand her own hand trembled.<\/p>\n \u201cDo you understand what I\u2019m saying, dearest?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI understand that you intend to leave me and the three children -\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo, no, not like that, Morag, never like that.\u201d he frowned, and released her hand, walked to the counter and poured her a small glass of the best brandy which he came and set down in front of her, \u201cMorag, I don\u2019t understand it myself, seeing as I\u2019ve not known any Stoddard having a longing for the sea before, but -\u201d he heaved a sigh that seemed to come from right down to his boots, \u201cI can\u2019t fight this longing to be on board a ship again.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAgain?\u201d her voice was shrill, she picked up the glass of brandy and swallowed it down in one gulp, tears pricked her eye lids, \u201cAgain? How can you say that? You were only ever on a boat the one time and that was when we came here from Scotland.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnd that\u2019s when I got to love the sea, and the ships – and being here listening to the men, Morag, it just calls to me, can\u2019t you see?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnd what about me, and the bairns?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou have the tavern, and Magnus Henderson has sworn to help you here, also Mary, she\u2019s more than willing to help.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t want their help, I want you here with me, Davy.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cLet me go this once, Morag, just this one time?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnd what about all the other times that you\u2019ll be asking me?\u201d she looked at him then, and wanted him to realise that it wasn\u2019t just his help in the tavern she would be needing, but his being with her at night , holding her and loving her; being there during the day to talk to, laugh with, sing with, and what about the babies \u2026? Whole lists of needs ran through her head, but all she could do was look into his face with her blue eyes swimming with tears and the tears dripping from her chin. \u201cI love you, Davy, I thought you loved me.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI do love you, Morag, I do -\u201d he kissed her then, and when he released her he knew that she had given her consent, it had been in her kiss \u2026 a kind of blessing.<\/p>\n He couldn\u2019t understand it himself, this longing to be at sea. As he had rightly said there was no Stoddard in living memory who had been to sea, they had held to the land, to their books and their learning. Had he but known it the lust for the sea came from ancestors many centuries down the line from the Stoddards, wild men who had come in big ships across the North Sea with horned helmets and double head axes, who had raided and plundered along the coastline until some eventually settled there. The Vikings left behind them a legacy of blue eyes, red hair and a hunger for the sea and a ship to sail upon.<\/p>\n Chapter 8<\/p>\n \u201cLook at this,\u201d Ben held out the frail scrap of paper that looked as though it had a coat of arms at the top, \u201cit\u2019s quite interesting. What do you think?\u201d<\/p>\n Adam smiled at his father and took it, read it and frowned before returning it. Ben had appointed himself custodian of the Cartwright papers and was scrutinising them with far more interest in them than he had expected. Adam, who was scanning through the Stoddard papers, found it quite amusing that his father, who had had possession of the other documents for so long, was now at last deigning to read them. Ben picked up another letter and his eyebrows rose in pleasure and surprise,<\/p>\n \u201cWell, now at last we know what part of Massachusetts the Cartwrights came from,\u201d he exclaimed and then gave a low whistle, which immediately brought the attention of his brothers who were doing battle over a game of checkers by the fire.<\/p>\n \u201cWhereabouts, Pa?\u201d Hoss asked with a black checker in his hand, poised over the board and hoping that a diversion now would distract his younger brother.<\/p>\n \u201cIt was a place the Native Indians called Agawam, but which was named Ipswich after a town in Suffolk, England. I suppose that\u2019s logical seeing as how Winthrop was from that county.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201c\u2019Cept in Massachusetts Ipswich is in Essex County,\u201d Joe piped up, showing that he had learned something from Miss Abigail Jones, he put out a hand and grabbed Hoss\u2019 wrist \u201cOh no, you don\u2019t \u2026\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShucks, Joe -\u201d Hoss scowled having lost his opportunity of a little \u2019slight of hand\u2019.<\/p>\n \u201cWe can\u2019t claim those acres of land, either.\u201d Ben smiled, \u201cThe Massachusetts Bay Colony built Ipswich on most of it.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat\u2019s the letter about, Pa?\u201d Adam gave his father a gentle reminder with a smile, and leaned back a little in his chair.<\/p>\n The big table had been commandeered for their research now, papers and books, maps and various other paraphernalia was heaped everywhere, while Adam kept paper, pen and ink close at hand for his own notations. He dipped the pen into the ink now and waited for his father to read the letter,<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s from my namesake, Benjamin Cartwright, to the Governor of the colony, Sir Edmund Andros* :<\/p>\n Sir – I am writing to you as a founder member of this colony in protest at your recent suggestion to levy a tax upon the colonists of Ispwich, in the county of Essex, Massachusetts. I put it to you that this is no place for taxation without representation * and stand firmly on the side of the Reverend John Wise* and others who protest against this levy.<\/p>\n If necessary I shall put my case before their majesties, King William and Queen Mary, which I believe various others will be doing likewise.\u201d\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s why the colonists of Ipswich call the town \u2018 the birthplace of American Independence.\u201d Adam smiled and finished his notation with a flourish; his brothers, unimpressed, continued with their game.<\/p>\n \u201cThey didn\u2019t do much, just wrote letters -\u201d Joe muttered as he jumped three of Hoss\u2019 checkers in one swift move.<\/p>\n \u201cThey were still considering themselves as English, and to have done that was a rebellion against the authorities of that time.\u201d Ben said gently, looking thoughtfully at the first letter, the one with the coat of arms at the top.<\/p>\n \u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026<\/p>\n Ipswich, Massachusetts in the year 1689<\/p>\n \u201cThey want to expel him?\u201d Ben\u2019s voice was flat, he asked the question to his daughter in law who was seated opposite him with downcast head, her hands folded tightly together in her lap, unable to raise her eyes to look at him. He stared once more at the letter, \u201cDid you know that this was likely?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo, of course not, Ben\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThen how has it come about? The Latin School of Boston is the very best school throughout the colonies, and take only the -\u201d he paused, he was going to say the elite from the founder members of the colonies, but felt that was false pride, his Puritan upbringing forced him to swallow on the thought, and he cast around for something else to say, \u201cHow long has this been going on ?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI – well – how could I mention it to you, Ben? You had worries and concerns enough without me adding to them.\u201d<\/p>\n Ben firmed his lips together, and put the paper slowly upon the desk before turning his back on her and looking out of the window. Cathleen had died a few years earlier, and there had been the fiasco with Andros and the taxation matter. Molly, his daughter in law, had been selling land and property without consulting him, which had irritated him enormously even though he had to remind himself that she had that right, the land had been Josephs and now belonged to her and their son.<\/p>\n \u201cWas this the reason you have been selling the land and property?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPartly, the fees- \u201c she paused, and shook her head, there was no point in mentioning the fees because Ben paid them, \u201cYes, I needed the money for David.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cFor his debts – gambling, drinking, and – and worse -\u201d Ben shook his head, he couldn\u2019t bear to look at her he was so incensed with anger. David – and still so young, was gambling to such an extent that the estate was dwindling bit by bit every month. He shook his head, \u201cNo, it\u2019s not good enough. He won\u2019t be expelled, I\u2019ll arrange for him to be collected from the school.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBut, his future prospects were all bound up in that school.\u201d she rose to her feet, white faced, ashamed of her deceit, fearful for her son.<\/p>\n \u201cIf he stays there he won\u2019t have any future prospects,\u201d Ben growled, \u201cNow, send Forbes in so that I can get things arranged for the journey.\u201d<\/p>\n She looked at his back, rigid, unbending, rather, she thought, like himself. He heard the swish of her gown as she left the room, the click of the door as she closed it behind her. Once he was alone he returned to his desk and sat down slowly, and looked once again at the letter. The coat of arms with the school motto was emblazoned across the top Sumus Primi, Latin for \u2018we are first\u2019, and beneath were the head masters fatal condemnation of a youth who spent more time drinking, gambling and wenching that on his studies, a boy whose behaviour they could no longer tolerate.<\/p>\n \u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026<\/p>\n Boston in the year 1690<\/p>\n The tavern was bright with lights, loud with merriment and laughter. The flames of the fire danced in pewter pots and tankards, shimmered in glassware around the room. Sheelagh Stoddard swirled in her pretty new dress and tried to gain the attention away from her sister, Siobhan, who was the bride and about whom the day was all about.<\/p>\n Morag listened to the clamour of the voices and felt deafened by the laughter, the cheers and shouts, the applause and the thudding of tankards and plates on the tables. This was her daughters special day and her heart was breaking in more ways than one. She looked at her children and felt the pride rise up in her heart, and she felt tenderness well over her when young Aaron Clayton swept his new bride into his arms and kissed her before the whole assembly.<\/p>\n It had been a pretty little wedding, spring flowers were everywhere, and the fire hadn\u2019t really been needed except that it looked so much better than a cold hearth. They had walked from the church to the tavern where Morag had prepared the wedding feast, and closed the doors on the general public. It was a special day, and a time for friends to gather, with family. She put a hand to her brow, how her head was thumping, how she wished it would all come to an end and she could close the door on them all and return to her room.<\/p>\n Now she saw Abel rise to his feet, and she turned to look at him. How tall he had grown these past years, and how slight his build. He looked so frail compared to Siobhan who was a bonny lass with her plump cheeks and ample curves, and even little Sheelagh showed promise of being in her sister\u2019s mould. Abel was playing his violin now, and the silence fell upon the company as they listened for he was a natural musician, and when he played the music he could wring the coldest heart to tears.<\/p>\n Magnus Campbell rose to his feet and began to sing the words to the song Abel was playing, and just for a moment Morag closed her eyes and was swept back to the land of her youth, to the evening ceiledhs when the neighbours would crowd into the house for some food,drink and talk, a fiddle would be played, someone would take up the song .. Oh, such times, such wonderful times.<\/p>\n She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, a large mirror that Davy had purchased when he had been home one time, and together they had fitted it above the fireplace. Now she saw herself and looked, wondered, and turned away. How had she got to be that fat, and that red faced? Where had the big blue eyes that had fascinated David so much, where had they gone? Her hair was now thin and straggled from her brow, snatched into a hasty bun at her neck. Time had gone by so fast, so fast, and she had had no time to hold it back and to look at herself and – and prevent this degradation.<\/p>\n If only the singing would stop, if only the whole thing would stop so that she could go up to her room and re-read that letter. Why did it have to come this week when she was so busy preparing her girls wedding day, and had such hopes that Davy would come home for the occasion?<\/p>\n She felt a cool hand take hold of her own, and lips press against her fingers. For a moment her heart leapt in hope, one name sprung to mind and she opened her eyes – Abel smiled at her, her hand still in his own,<\/p>\n \u201cYou looked so sad, Mother. Why not come and dance with me? Fergus has his -\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo, son, no, I don\u2019t want to dance.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBut you have to dance,\u201d Sheelagh\u2019s shrill voice, \u201cYou\u2019re the bride\u2019s ma, you have to dance.\u201d<\/p>\n Dance? She shuddered inside, how could she dance when she felt as though her life was over? Davy would never be coming home now, the sea had swallowed him down as it had so many hundreds of other good men over the centuries. It had opened its throat and gulped him and his ship and another two thirds of the ships company as well, and taken them down to its very depths.<\/p>\n In some kind of dream she allowed her son to take her hand and lead her to the small space opened up for them to dance while her mind was on the last night he had spent with her, and he had said that when the sea stopped calling his name, then he would come home, and never leave her again.<\/p>\n \u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026<\/p>\n Ipswich, Massachusetts in the year 1692<\/p>\n \u201cMore debt!\u201d<\/p>\n The two words hung in the air. Ben looked at his grandson who stood before him, tall and proud, handsome and arrogant. The old man shook his head<\/p>\n \u201cThis gambling, this life of yours, it has to stop.\u201d<\/p>\n David said nothing, there was nothing left to say, all this had been said before, often. Behind him his mother sniffed into her handkerchief. He stared out of the window unable to face the old man glaring at him across the table.<\/p>\n \u201cDavid? Are you listening to me?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYe-es,\u201d he drawled the word slowly and sighed, tapped his fingers impatiently against his thigh.<\/p>\n \u201cIf your father were alive today -\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI know, I wouldn\u2019t be like I am now -\u201d the young voice intoned the words as though it were some rite of passage and again he sighed.<\/p>\n \u201cDon\u2019t you realise, young man, that we are not made of money? Your gambling has to stop before there is nothing left -\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe fact is, I\u2019m bored -\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBored?\u201d Ben\u2019s voice was cold, flat and heralded a threat that only Molly seemed to perceive for she rose to her feet from her chair and reached out to touch David\u2019s arm, as though to caution him to take care with what he said next.<\/p>\n \u201cYes, bored.\u201d David snapped, and then he turned towards his grandfather, \u201cbored, bored, bored.\u201d he shouted.<\/p>\n The silence that fell upon the room shivered. The three of them stood as though frozen until Benjamin Cartwright picked up a letter and slowly put it in an envelope which he sealed with his personal seal.<\/p>\n \u201cVery well, David. Here\u2019s your chance never to be bored again. Tomorrow you will take this letter to Captain Harris who will escort you to Newburyport.* You will board a ship called The Demaris, and I promise you, you will never be bored again.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo, I don\u2019t want to go.\u201d David jutted out his chin and firmed his lips.<\/p>\n \u201cIf you don\u2019t go, I will disinherit you and everything I own will go to your cousins instead.\u201d<\/p>\n David blushed with anger, humiliation and fear. He glanced at his grandfather, wished that he could tell the old man to take his money and go to blazes, but he knew he couldn\u2019t, he knew if he said one word of what he wanted to say, Ben would cut him off without a penny.<\/p>\n He snatched the letter from the other man\u2019s hands and turned to leave the room, glanced at his mother who was weeping into her apron, and slammed the door shut behind him.<\/p>\n The following day he boarded the Demaris and by evening time was sailing to Holland.<\/p>\n Chapter 9<\/p>\n Ben gave a grunt of annoyance, much as he did when he couldn\u2019t tally his figures in his ledgers, Adam ignored it, as he would have ignored it when sitting opposite his father with other ledgers. Joe and Hoss raised their eyebrows and grinned, while concentrating on setting up another game of ledgers,<\/p>\n \u201cSeems David Cartwright has simply dropped into thin air.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe can\u2019t have done,\u201d Adam said calmly, writing some words in his note book with a precision that made Ben even more irritated. \u201cOtherwise we wouldn\u2019t be here.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell, he isn\u2019t mentioned any more. He left school and that was that -\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s a pity,\u201d Joe muttered, \u201cI rather liked the guy, after all, anyone who can get themselves expelled by gambling, drinking and – er – wenching -\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s enough from you -\u201d Ben grumbled, \u201cLooks like the line continues through Ben\u2019s daughter, Jane.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cJane?\u201d Adam frowned, then gave a slight shrug, \u201cA mystery.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI hate mysteries.\u201d Hoss groaned.<\/p>\n \u201cWell, stick to your checkers, Hoss, \u2018cos there\u2019s no mystery involved there.\u201d Joe chuckled, jiggling the checkers in his hand.<\/p>\n \u201cThere ain\u2019t ?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShucks, no, it\u2019s always a foregone conclusion as to who\u2019s going to win, ain\u2019t it?\u201d Joe winked over at Adam who gave only the ghost of a smile back in return.<\/p>\n \u201cShucks, you jest put your checkers where your mouth is, smarty pants, and see here who\u2019ll win this game.\u201d his good humoured brother remarked as he began his first move.<\/p>\n \u201cYou know, I wish we knew more about these people,\u201d Adam sighed, \u201cWe have names and dates, but we don\u2019t really know them, do we?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell, that\u2019s not possible,\u201d Ben replied quietly, striking a match now and lighting his pipe, \u201cAfter all they\u2019ve been dead a long time. Unless you leave a journal of every day of your life, then in a few generations time you\u2019ll just be a name and a date as well.\u201d<\/p>\n Adam sighed like a man who having scratched the surface of these lives now wanted to dig deeper, to discover what their lives were really like, what they were like as people, and what influenced the decisions they had made.<\/p>\n \u201cThere\u2019s an entry here, made by Jane, she married a Nathaniel Laurence if you recall, and moved to Virginia. She must have returned to care for her father as there\u2019s no mention of Molly Cartwright anymore, she disappeared into the ether of time with her son by the look of it.\u201d<\/p>\n There was a rustle of papers as he sorted through some of the frail letters and carefully laid one down<\/p>\n \u201cA letter from her father asking her to return home. She had been recently widowed and he was too old to care for himself. He has told her that he would settle his estate on her children should she do so and disinherit David.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPoor David -\u201d lamented Joe<\/p>\n \u201cIn the bible she has listed the name of five children, three of whom died in the same year, within the same week -\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAn epidemic of some kind?\u201d Adam raised a quizzical eyebrow \u2026<\/p>\n Ipswich, Massachusetts in the year 1699<\/p>\n Jane Laurence spun the yarn with an expert hand, transferring the spun yarn deftly onto the spindle. She was deep in thought as the shadows lengthened in the long room of the house in which she had been born nearly 50 years earlier.<\/p>\n Her thoughts were about her own life, as she spun the wheel she felt as though she were spinning years of her life away.<\/p>\n She had been happily married to Nathaniel, and he had been a good husband, a fond father and a generous provider. Her years of life in Virginia had been happy ones, even during that time of the Indian uprisings when so many had been killed. She recalled that time with a shudder, such memories were not to be dealt upon, it was best to pass on to others. There had been the births of her children. She had five children, Susan had been the first born, followed quickly by James, who had looked so much like her brother Joseph that she had wept. Then there had been Mary, followed by Henry and then little Peter.<\/p>\n It seemed no sooner was her happiness overflowing than tragedy struck with a smallpox epidemic that came with new settlers from Holland. Peter had been first to die, then Henry and Susan, and she the one, Jane thought, who was strong enough to surmount anything. The three little bodies had been buried together in the cemetery years ago, but now, as she sat spinning the grief touched her heart as fresh as ever.<\/p>\n Mary had been scarred badly with the pox and so it was thought that had been the reason she had not married until quite late in life, a man old enough to be her father, a good match in financial terms, but one which failed miserably in the ways of love. Nathaniel had charmed them all into thinking this the best outcome for his spinster daughter.<\/p>\n James had married his childhood sweetheart, Anne Goudie, the daughter of a merchant from Dundee in Scotland. A happy marriage blessed by several children. Jane spun a little slower, her hands tiring as she had become more aware of the cold draughts coming from the open window.<\/p>\n It had been provident that her father had summoned her to return home when he had, for Nathaniel had died and she was left with little upon which to live, while James with a burgeoning family was kept busy in his father in law\u2019s business to feed his own. As she thought of the last years of her fathers life, Jane wondered about her nephew, David, a youth she had met a mere twice in his life time. Where was he now? How often had they wondered that question, she and her father between them.<\/p>\n It made her wonder whether it had been the death of his little brother, Daniel, that had caused the boy to be so diffident, or whether he had just been born with that weak trait in him, inherited perhaps from some long ago Lincolnshire man. Maybe if Molly had been able to have more children or even if Joseph had not been killed for he had been a good, loving but stern father when alive. Who would know? She shook her head again, who would know ?<\/p>\n \u201cGrandmother?\u201d<\/p>\n She turned at the sound of her grand daughters voice, and smiled, leaving the spinning wheel to embrace the girl. How she loved this child, there was no doubt about it, but little Jessie was a beautiful girl, everything lovely in their family had come together in the formation of her. She took the girls hands in her own and leaned forward to kiss her smooth soft cheek, and when a bunch of violets was placed in her hands she kissed the girl again.<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019re a love, child, where did you find these?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDown in the marshes.\u201d she smiled and slipped off her cloak, \u201cI\u2019ll put them in a jug for you, grandmother.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDo that, child.\u201d<\/p>\n Jane watched her and sighed, Jessie was a mere 14 years old but already a blossoming into womanhood, soon there would be young men hanging around the place wanting to woo her, and surely many a heart would be broken for the girl looked as though she had the Cartwright stubbornness and wasn\u2019t going to be so easily fobbed off into marriage as her aunt Mary had been.<\/p>\n In the two years since James and Anne had moved to Ipswich, Jane had enjoyed the warmth of being loved, and being able to love in return. Her life, she felt, had been enriched and blessed.<\/p>\n Boston in the year 1700<\/p>\n Abel Stoddard paused at the gate of his house and looked at it thoughtfully for he had only recently taken tenancy of it in his role as the music master at the school. He was young, just 25 years of age in fact, yet he had an old head on his shoulders and talent in his fingers. He was more than a little proud of the house, even though he had to admit it was rather large for just the one person. He pushed the gate open and approached the door, unlocked it and entered and in the hallway he once again paused, looked about him, and wondered how on earth he had managed to achieve so much in such a short time.<\/p>\n There was no doubt about it, it was the music that had won him the employment as the music master, his ability to make a man cry when he played the violin, or when he sang in his rich baritone voice, for there was very little else he could think to recommend him. He was slight of build, shorter than average, pale in feature, with eyes the colour of gooseberries, he suffered badly from a skin complaint which caused him to be timid and to blush easily.<\/p>\n As he glanced at himself in the mirror -something he didn\u2019t do often – he was reminded of his sisters\u2019 taunts at his appearance, and wondered whether or not, some of what they said would prove to be true. No one, he sighed, would find him of any interest at all, no one.<\/p>\n Siobhan and her husband owned the tavern now and doing well, profits were always healthy, but then they were in an excellent position near the harbour. Seamen always had a thirst and a hunger when they came in to land, and the tavern was perfect to provide both. As for Sheelagh, she had married a seamen, and already had two children to care for, and always coming to the house begging for some money to feed them.<\/p>\n Better, Abel decided, to be single than to be miserable with such baggage around one\u2019s neck. He went into the large room and was grateful to see the fire burning already, which meant that Mrs Jackson had been in earlier, and that there would be a good meal on the table awaiting him.<\/p>\n He walked to the music stand and leafed through a few pages, then with a sigh of pleasure he picked up his violin, caressed it lovingly and placed it along the line of his jaw \u2026 music, how he loved music.<\/p>\n He had written this particular piece himself, a combination of something Scottish that he could recall his father singing years before, and something soft and yielding that he could imagine being played by the finest violinist in Europe.<\/p>\n It was so beautiful that the girl passing the house had to stop to listen, and when the music stopped she found her cheeks wet with tears.<\/p>\n Chapter 10<\/p>\n \u201cPa, I need to talk to you about something -\u201d Hoss rose to his feet, abandoning his game leaving the way open for his brother to claim the victory as he had foretold,<\/p>\n \u201cTalk away, son -\u201d Ben smiled as Hoss approached the table, \u201cIs it important?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah -\u201d Hoss frowned, and nodded by way of emphasis, \u201cI meant to discuss it with you this morning but plumb forgot but it is important -\u201d he added hastily seeing his father\u2019s face and guessing rightly that Ben was about to dismiss the matter as \u2018it couldn\u2019t have been that important then.\u2019<\/p>\n \u201cThen what is it?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe saplings we planted up in that new section of woodland jest ain\u2019t taking right, they look sickly.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAll of them?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cQuite a number of them – p\u2019raps it\u2019s the soil, I dunno, that\u2019s what I wanted to talk to you about.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBest show me where exactly -\u201d and Ben rose to his feet and walked with his son to the map of their territory for Hoss to show him the exact area of concern.<\/p>\n Joe whistled to himself as he put the checkers away and folded up the board. The fire was dying down, the clock ticked to the hour and chimed obligingly, which prompted him to bid everyone goodnight.<\/p>\n At the table Adam turned and nodded goodnight to his youngest sibling and then returned to his task of trying to locate David Cartwright in the pile of papers that were accumulated around him, he drew the big bible forward and began a methodical check of names and dates. The soft murmur of voices from the other end of the room was a pleasant hum in the background of more subtle noises such as the ash falling into the hearth, the clock ticking and overhead the sound of Joe\u2019s footsteps on the floor of his room.<\/p>\n Ipswich, Massachusetts in the year 1702<\/p>\n Queen Anne\u2019s rule began in the year 1702 at the death of her brother-in-law William whose wife, Mary, had been his co-ruler until her death some years previously. In the colonies settlements spread out and grew and prospered, they reached down from the Atlantic seaboard from northern Massachusetts (now known as Maine) through Georgia. Each colony was separately governed, had different economies, even different laws administered by a variety of \u2018lawgivers\u2019*.<\/p>\n In 1702 Jessie Laurence was 18 years of age and still unmarried. Her beauty was both admired and condemned, a curse as well as a blessing. As her grandmother had predicted many young men beat their way to their door only to be turned aside with bruised if not broken hearts. There was not a man in Ipswich who would seem worthy of the fair maidens hand.<\/p>\n The day was warm and she was walking along the edge of the fields, her fingertips just brushing across the heads of corn and the petals of poppies. She had paused a moment to watch as a horseman cantered slowly along the roadway towards the town. It was no one she recognised so she turned away and continued her stroll, stopping once or twice to pick a poppy and twirl it round and round between her fingers. \u201cExcuse me -\u201d<\/p>\n The young man on the horse had paused and looked down at her with a smile, dark eyes twinkled in a tanned face and his teeth were white as his lips parted in his smile, she answered with a smile of her own and a polite turning up of her face in anticipation of his next question,<\/p>\n \u201cI was wondering if you could direct me to the house of -\u201d he paused, a slight frown on his face, \u201cBenjamin Cartwright?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe\u2019s been dead some years.\u201d she replied still with the smile on her face.<\/p>\n \u201cOh, I – I hadn\u2019t realised. Of course, I should have done, he would be quite old by now – I mean – if he were still living.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI daresay.\u201d she nodded in agreement and twisted the poppy lightly between her fingers.<\/p>\n \u201cThey die you know,\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPoppies – they die almost as soon as you pick them. Some things have to stay where they grow, even beautiful things -\u201d<\/p>\n She sighed and tossed the flower aside, as though ashamed to have been so uncaring about a mere flower of the field, she shrugged slightly,<\/p>\n \u201cWhy do you want to see – did you want to see Mr Cartwright?\u201d<\/p>\n He laughed then, a low chuckle and his eyes twinkled again,<\/p>\n \u201cLook, just help me out here, where did he live? I presume he still has family living there?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOf course -\u201d she raised her arm and pointed in the direction of the house, \u201cOn the horizon there, you can\u2019t miss it.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThank you,\u201d he tipped his hat to her and turned his horse\u2019s head in the direction of the house, and as it cantered away he turned to look back at her.<\/p>\n She was already resuming her walk, plucking at the flowers as she went along, her brow creased and no doubt any thought of him gone from her mind.<\/p>\n He would have been wrong in that instance for her mind was full of thoughts about him. She wondered what his name was, where he had come from and why he had wanted to see Great grandfather Benjamin. She thought of the way the brown eyes had twinkled down at her, and the way dimples had formed in his cheeks when he had smiled. She had liked the way he had laughed, and the way he sat his horse, and the way his hair, worn long as was the custom of the day, fell lightly upon his shoulders. In fact, she couldn\u2019t stop thinking about him.<\/p>\n Jane Laurence sat by the low fire in the big room, it was not a cold day, but she was frail now, even though not yet in her sixties. When the maid announced a visitor to see her she paid no particular attention until the young man entered the room, removed his hat and stood several feet from her, his brown eyes cautious as he looked at her and then glanced hesitantly around the room.<\/p>\n \u201cIf you\u2019re on an errand of business then it\u2019s my son you will need to see -\u201d she said immediately, \u201cI\u2019ve no head for business, my late husband attended to all that kind of thing.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOf course, I apologise for disturbing you. Is your son at home?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI am -\u201d James Laurence answered the question from behind the visitor, and stepped forward, \u201cThis is my mother, Mistress Jane Laurence, I\u2019m James Laurence.\u201d he then looked at the young man and stepped further into the room, \u201cWho am I addressing?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMy name is Charles, Charles Abbott.\u201d<\/p>\n Jane, craning her head forward and her eyes widened while her son narrowed his eyes and stepped closer to his mother, as though together they could form some kind of barrier against an unseen threat to themselves.<\/p>\n \u201cYou have no reason whatsoever to know me, but my Grandfather was a friend of your father, Mistress, and asked me to call in to see him should I ever come to this colony.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI recollect no one of the name Abbott,\u201d James said drily, and Jane also shook her head although she put out a hand as though to reach out to him and beckoned him closer,<\/p>\n \u201cCome nearer, let me look at you, let me see you in the light by the window here, my eyes are not as good as they once were.\u201d<\/p>\n He approached as she had asked, and looked at her as carefully as she now regarded him. After some seconds had passed she smiled, and nodded,<\/p>\n \u201cI recall my father talking about a Jeremiah Abbott -\u201d she paused and when he nodded with a smile she continued, \u201cI thought they were sailors?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMy Grandfather was a seaman from the same town in England as your grandfather, Mistress. In the way things happen his path crossed that of your father at some time, and they became firm friends.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, I remember now -\u201d Jane said slowly and narrowed her eyes, \u201cHe was the owner of a ship, The Demaris.\u201d<\/p>\n Charles nodded and looked at her thoughtfully, and Jane glanced over at James before turning back to regard Charles.<\/p>\n \u201cHave you news of my nephew – David?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNothing, I\u2019m sorry.\u201d he frowned and looked from mother to son with that quiet regard that seemed customary to him, \u201cYour nephew was taken on board the Demaris as a favour to your father, I believe? Well, all I can tell you is that he disembarked in Holland from his first voyage and was never seen again. Every time my Grandfather went to Holland he would make enquiries, for your father\u2019s sake, but sadly nothing came of them. I take it – you have not any news?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNothing, not from the time he left here.\u201d Jane sighed, \u201cBut, Master Abbott, where are our manners, please, may I ask you – where do you intend to stay while you visit Ipswich?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou must stay here,\u201d James said promptly, with unusual alacrity, \u201cFor the sake of old friends.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnd new ones -\u201d Jane smiled, and when she heard the sound of the door opening and gently closing, and a light footstep on the hall floor she nodded to herself, and sighed with contentment, perhaps, she thought, this was going to be an answer to a maiden\u2019s prayer.<\/p>\n Boston in the year 1702<\/p>\n There had been weeks of celebrating in Boston, celebrating the crowning of a Stuart Queen. The mood of Great Britain was as alive in Boston as it was in London, or any other part of the British controlled world \u2026 the Dutchman was dead, long live the Queen.<\/p>\n Abel was still unable to comprehend his many blessings – his whole life had been wrapped up in love and care, and music. From a child onwards he could recall evenings of music playing, his father singing and his mother bustling about cooking and serving and fussing and loving. It had been a wonderful childhood.<\/p>\n Now, as he stood at the altar and said his vows he looked again at his bride and marvelled that such a beautiful girl could have consented to be his wife.<\/p>\n Una Cameron – tall and slender, black hair that fell straight down her back to her waist and curled in wisps about her ears, dark eyes that gleamed amber sparks when happy, angry or just like now, as she gazed upon him. He watched as her lips spoke the most important two words of their lives \u2026 \u2018I do\u2019 and the ring was on her finger and their lips touched and this dear sweet girl was now Una Stoddard.<\/p>\n She had knocked on his door one morning just before he was going to work at the school.<\/p>\n \u201cPlease, sir, I was wondering if you would need a maid – someone to cook for you, sir, or to mend your clothes?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell, thank you, no -\u201d he had replied hastily, taken back by the brazen approach of the girl, a little timid, as always, and unprepared, \u201cI – I have a woman who comes in to cook and clean.\u201d \u201cI\u2019m sorry, please excuse me.\u201d<\/p>\n He left her and walked quickly away from the house, but the words \u2018I\u2019m sorry, please excuse me.\u2019 stuck in his mind so much that he had to turn back and hurry to catch her up as she walked slowly away from his house,<\/p>\n \u201cDo you need the work so much?\u201d he had asked her and she had looked at him and nodded, and then he had noticed the thinness of her, the pallor of those who starved on the streets, the sunken eyes, and the hands that gripped the shawl around her shoulders, \u201cWhat is your name?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cUna Cameron.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cA Scottish name?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMy father was a Scot, a soldier in the Black Watch.\u201d<\/p>\n He noted the past tense, the slight burr in her voice, and without any doubt of her honesty he had reached into his pocket and handed her his house key,<\/p>\n \u201cI get back from work at 3 o\u2019clock and don\u2019t worry about the woman who may come in and light the fire or cook the meal, I shall explain to her when I get home.\u201d<\/p>\n That was to be the first time he would see the amber sparks glow in the dark of her eyes, she clutched hold of the key to her chest and followed him to the house, where they parted, he to go to his work and she to commence her own.<\/p>\n \u201cTell me how you got to be here \u2026\u201d he had asked her that evening as they ate the meal she had prepared, for Mrs Jackson had taken umbrage and stormed off in a huff rather than be supplanted by this thin slip of a girl.<\/p>\n \u201cBecause you gave me your key.\u201d she replied with a slight smile and they had laughed together, companionably and warmly.<\/p>\n \u201cTell me about yourself, that\u2019s what I really meant.\u201d he said and persuaded her to take the last bread roll.<\/p>\n \u201cMy mother was the daughter of -\u201d she paused and glanced warily at him \u201cof a woman from the Leni Lenape tribe, they dwell on the Delaware River where the Dutch built New Amsterdam.\u201d she looked at him again to see if he had displayed any distaste at this disclosure, but he had continued to eat in his customary slow manner, \u201cand her father had been a man who liked to live with the Delaware, but I do not know where he came from, no one spoke of it. My mother was very lovely and her name was Mary. My father was a Scot from Dundee, and an officer in the Black Watch regiment. He was killed several years ago and later my mother also died.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSo what brought you to Boston?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI wanted to come here, my father had spoken of it often and promised my mother that he would bring her here. I thought I would come here and achieve -\u201d she stopped and shook her head, then wiped away tears, \u201cWell, anyway, \u201c she lowered her voice a little, \u201cI was passing your house the other day and heard you play your violin. It was so beautiful that it made me cry. I wanted to be near where that music was \u2026\u201d<\/p>\n He looked at her and then lowered his eyes for his thoughts were on her beauty, and how terrible it would be now to lose her now that she was found. He had to think for a moment, just sit there quietly and think, about what she had just said and then he had said simply<\/p>\n \u201cI love music.\u201d<\/p>\n But his heart had already told him that he loved her.<\/p>\n So now they were wed, and he could take her to live with him in his house, away from the tavern where she slept the nights before walking to his house to cook and clean for him. Now she was his wife and the future lay all before them\u2026<\/p>\n Chapter 11<\/p>\n Once Hoss had got his concerns about the saplings off his chest and come to some arrangement regarding them with his father, he decided it was time to get to bed. Ben went to his big leather chair and with a long sigh stretched out in it, reached once again for his pipe and began to puff contentedly ceiling wards.<\/p>\n \u201cHave you found him yet?\u201d<\/p>\n Adam started, he had been so engrossed in reading a letter that his father\u2019s voice broke in upon him like a clap of thunder, he smiled and rose to his feet<\/p>\n \u201cNo, not a sign. Here\u2019s a letter tucked in among the Cartwright papers though \u2026\u201d he perched onto the corner of the low table, and glanced at Ben with a smile, before his eyes returned to the letter, \u201cIt\u2019s dated 1705 from Pennsylvania :<\/p>\n \u201cMy dear parents,<\/p>\n I was very saddened to hear of the death of Grandmother Jane, and know that she will be a sad loss to you both. I think of her often as she was my dearest friend and comfort before I met my dear Charles. I see many native Indians here, something that was not common back home, and sometimes I feel quite afraid of them, but Charles tells me that they are good friends and fought alongside the English when there was the fighting taking place against the Dutch some years ago.<\/p>\n But I wanted you to know my very good news \u2026 Charles and I have a son, and his name is Jonathan. He was born in January of this year. He is a healthy child \u2026\u201d\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnd?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnd that\u2019s all, there isn\u2019t anything left, the other page has obviously been mislaid.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSo, who was Charles ? Remind me again?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAccording to the bible record he married Jessica Laurence in 1703 and he must have taken her away from Ipswich with him -\u201d he rose to his feet and returned slowly to the table, deep in thought.<\/p>\n \u201cIt still irritates you that you can\u2019t see the real people behind those letters, doesn\u2019t it?\u201d Ben smiled, even as the smoke trickled in a blue plume from his nostrils.<\/p>\n \u201cYes, I guess so. We get just snatches, little glimpses of their lives \u2026 it\u2019s quite sad to never know all the important things in between, like, why did he have to take her from Ipswich? Where did he come from ?\u201d he pulled out his chair and sat down, pursed his lips in the familiar pout that summed up his frustration.<\/p>\n Ipswich, Massachusetts in the year 1703<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s Charles. He\u2019s come back.\u201d<\/p>\n Jessica\u2019s voice rose in excitement and she stopped hanging out of the casement window to run down the stairs to open the door, her face was pink with her delight at seeing him again, and Jane laughed to herself at watching her grand daughter doing a little jig of impatience on the doorstep.<\/p>\n She thought back to the first time they had met Charles Abbott, and how he had charmed them all with his handsome looks, his deep resonant voice and assured manner. During their first meal together he had told them a little of himself and his family, how they had come from England and settled in Amesbury, although it was first known as Salisbury New Town, but when it was separated formally in 1666* they were already living on the opposite side of the Powwow River and remained settled there.<\/p>\n Ship building was one of the main industries in the area and the Damaris had been built in the local shipyards. He had told them about the 90ft drop in the Powwow River falls, which was an impressive feature of their area, and of the ferry that went from the town to Merimac.<\/p>\n \u201cSo, Charles, what exactly do you do for a living?\u201d James had finally asked as they had settled in front of the big fire and relaxed a while after a substantial meal.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m a seaman, sir. The Damaris is still a prime ship, after all, and mercantile trading is life blood for our community. I sail all over Europe -\u201d he glanced over at Jessie who was sitting demurely by the window, sewing some needlepoint as though her life depended upon it. \u201cThere are some wonderful places one sees on these voyages.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnd you came all this way to Ipswich on a whim?\u201d Ann asked, glancing over at her mother in law with a mischievous twinkle in her eye,<\/p>\n \u201cPartly,\u201d he replied, \u201cAnd also out of curiosity. When I have time for it, I like to travel through the colonies and see what things of beauty we possess here that are not available in Europe.\u201d and he cast a thoughtful glance over at Jessie.<\/p>\n Whether or not she was conscious of his attention she did not indicate, although a faint blush was just discernible beneath the modest collar of her dress.<\/p>\n \u201cJessica – may I call you Jessica?\u201d<\/p>\n She turned and looked at him with a slight frown on her brow, and her hair dishevelled from getting it entangled with some briars when she was fruit picking.<\/p>\n \u201cCertainly, sir,\u201d she nodded and hoped that the stain of some of the fruit wasn\u2019t too obvious around her mouth, she caught at a loose strand of hair and tucked it behind her ear, \u201cAre you enjoying your visit, sir?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMuch more than I thought possible,\u201d he laughed and took the basket from her hand, looked at her and smiled, \u201cHere -\u201d he picked a strawberry and carried it to her mouth, which she laughingly accepted, \u201cJessica – I have to leave today, I had only so long to indulge my whims after all, and – and yet I am loathe to leave because -\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBecause?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBecause of you.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh, why, sir? Have I caused you some – problem?\u201d she blushed, and lowered her eyes as a modest maiden should under such circumstances, or, so she had been told.<\/p>\n \u201cYes, you have caused me some problem, and come, Jessica, don\u2019t play the coquette with me, I know you already too well.\u201d he took hold of her free hand in his and set down the basket, while with his other hand he took hold of her chin and brought her face up to meet his, he smiled, \u201cYou do like strawberries, don\u2019t you?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh dear, is it that obvious?\u201d she said,<\/p>\n \u201cYes, very -\u201d he lowered his face to hers, \u201cI like them too -\u201d he whispered and gently kissed her lips.<\/p>\n That had been the start of their romance. A realisation of love, heady and sweet, as sweet as strawberries that had been warmed by the sun, and as delicate and fragile as poppies dozing under sunlight. Each time he returned to her, their love deepened, he sought her out and woo\u2019d her, and she, despite herself, realised that she loved him, and whatever assets she possessed she would gladly deposit at his feet.<\/p>\n In the year 1703 Charles Abbott took his Jessica to be his lawful wedded wife, and removed her from Ipswich, in the county of Essex in Massachusetts and took her to his own home in Amesbury. Within the year they had moved from Amesbury to Pennsylvannia where Jessica awaited the birth of their first born son.<\/p>\n Boston in the year 1710<\/p>\n Morag Stoddard was born in a bright sunlit room in her parents home on a May day in 1710. She was Abel and Una\u2019s fifth child, their third daughter, but only the second girl to survive as her little sister born in 1708 had died only days after her birth.<\/p>\n She resembled her father, slightly built, pale eyed, nondescript colour hair, and her complexion was sallow. For some days it had seemed unlikely that she would survive but she struggled on each hour until eventually, after a month, she began to thrive. She was their last child to be born.<\/p>\n As Abel sat to write a new composition for the school concert that year, he basked in the warmth of the family home. His wife, well, Una had grown more beautiful each year, and despite their loss of one child, the remaining four brought them intense pleasure.<\/p>\n William had been the first born, arriving within a year of their marriage and a sturdy, strong little boy. He was followed by Hamish, in the year 1705, who had the strong build of the Sutherlands and the love of music from the Stoddards, Mary had arrived next with black hair like Una\u2019s and a quick temper that turned from laughter to tears so quickly that Una called her Quicksilver, and eventually along came Morag.<\/p>\n Blessings – Abel smiled in contentment and carefully signed his name at the bottom of the page. Years later his descendent, a young man with a love of music, Una\u2019s high cheekbones, and dark hair, and a rich baritone voice, would find a copy of the music nestling in among other papers that brought with them a link to his past.<\/p>\n Chapter 12<\/p>\n The picture of a young couple with two small children was nestled within the pages of the Prophet Isaiah, and for some minutes Adam looked intently at the picture before turning it to see the inscription at the back:<\/p>\n \u2018To dear mother and father The young man in the picture wore the uniform of an officer in the English navy, from the epaulets and braiding Adam assumed he was a Lieutenant or in that line of ranking, for the uniform was old fashioned, even though the young man wore it with a pride and upright bearing.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat have you found here?\u201d<\/p>\n He offered up the picture to his father, smiled and was about to make some quip about poor Isaiah had obviously been neglected in the bible reading when Ben, having removed the pipe from his mouth nodded and sighed,<\/p>\n \u201cYes, I remember this picture well, I often wondered who they were, my father was not particularly forthcoming about them.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThey make a handsome couple don\u2019t they?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cVery handsome.\u201d Ben returned the picture and looked at the papers strewn over the table, the open bible, \u201cFound young David again yet?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell, not really, perhaps he\u2019s lurking about in the Book of Psalms or Revelation.\u201d Adam said smugly.<\/p>\n \u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026..<\/p>\n Philadelphia, Pennsylvania in the year 1733<\/p>\n Tamar Sutton was not the most beautiful girl in the family of Suttons, but she was intelligent and quiet. Even in the year 1733 the Quaker influence of the colony\u2019s founder still had a strong influence on many of the English colonists, even if they did not claim to be members of the religion.<\/p>\n In 1681 Charles II of England had granted William Penn a charter* for what would become this thriving community. Penn, a serious minded and humble man, bought the land from the local Lenape even though he was in possession of a Royal Charter. To him, it made far more sense to make a Treaty of Friendship with the Lenape Chief, Tammany* than to rely on a piece of paper from a far distant King.<\/p>\n Perhaps due to the persecution he himself had experienced Penn desired that all living in the colony exercise extreme tolerance, and with this optimistic hope in mind, he called the city, Philadelphia (brotherly love). Being sited on the Delaware river the city would serve as a port, and it thrived as more and more settlers crowded in around the river, making it an important trading centre.<\/p>\n Charles Abbott had seen the practical wisdom of moving there soon after his son, James, had been born and although it was a struggle initially, he soon established himself and prospered. Jessie, however, longed to be home in Ipswich, when she lost two infant girls between the times of her sons births, and then another daughter shortly after their move to Philadelphia she went into a steady decline and depression. It was to no avail that Charles prospered, for his business called for him to be absent for lengthy periods of time, and upon his return he would find her sunk further into her depression.<\/p>\n Their love for one another, however, never weakened. Perhaps the guilt Jessie felt upon inflicting her misery upon her beloved husband pushed her further into the misery she was experiencing. When Tamar Sutton began to cast her eyes at Jonathan Abbott, Jessica resigned herself to another loss and sunk even further into the black hole of despair.<\/p>\n James Abbott had never been close to his mother. The fault was no ones, it was a tragedy created by the deaths of his three sisters and the misery that created, leaving Jessica emotionally crippled and unable to give to the warm hearted little boy the love he so needed. He grew to be wilful and strong minded and as soon as he could he ran away to sea. James chose to join the English Navy, and at the age of 15 left Philadelphia to serve where he felt he could be of better service.<\/p>\n \u201cI was thinking of going to Ipswich, to visit my family,\u201d Jessica said quietly one morning as they sat together at the big table overlooking the garden, \u201cThey are growing old and frail now, I don\u2019t know if I could bear not to see them again before they died.\u201d<\/p>\n Charles looked at her and noticed how the light played upon her features, there was just the faintest tracery of lines starting to etch into her fine skin, but she was still beautiful, very beautiful. They had been to Ipswich twice during their married life, the last time when James had been a small child. He knew that had been some while ago now and could see the fairness of her request, he rose to his feet and pulled up a stool to sit at her side, he took her hand in his and kissed her fingers,<\/p>\n \u201cDo you really want to go, beloved?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, I worry about them so much, Charles. They are old and it frightens me to think I may never see them again.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cVery well, we shall go.\u201d he reached out a hand and stroked back her hair from her face, that silly curl that always fell loose<\/p>\n \u201cBoth of us? Oh Charles, that would be wonderful. And Jonathan – could he come too? Mother would be so happy to see him again.\u201d<\/p>\n Charles smiled, nodded and agreed. Yes, mother would be proud to see Jonathan again and equally proud to see James as well, no doubt.<\/p>\n Jonathan however protested that he could not possibly leave Philadelphia for Ipswich, his marriage to Tamar was going to take place that year and he had no intention of leaving. Perhaps it had been Jessica\u2019s last hope of keeping her son close to her side for a little while longer, but Jonathan persisted that he was now a man, he should be married not traipsing around the colony with his mother like some errant school boy.<\/p>\n In 1733 Tamar Sutton married Jonathan Abbott, and a week later Charles and Jessica left Philadelphia to visit Ipswich. They were never to return.<\/p>\n Boston in the year 1733<\/p>\n \u201cIsn\u2019t he handsome, mother?\u201d<\/p>\n Una Stoddard looked down at the infant snuggled in her arms and then smiled up at her son, yes, the boy was handsome, just like his father and nothing like his grandfather. She held the new born carefully, almost afraid to hold him too tightly in case he would break. Crowding around her Mary and Morag coo\u2019d and ooh\u2019d and declared that little Hugh was the handsomest child they had ever seen. In her bed Isabel Stoddard listened to the admiring sounds and smiled herself to sleep, she had done her duty and now she was – well – just so tired.<\/p>\n Life for Una had not quite turned out to be the way of all blessings as Abel had hoped. Certainly all his life long he had had nothing but blessings come his way, but a particularly unpleasantly cold winter had struck the colony bringing with it a very virulent influenza and Abel, never the strongest of men, had succumbed to its effect. He had returned home from school one day, mounted the stairs to his room and taken to his bed. He had been happy all his life long, he even died happy if that were possible with the effects of the illness, but he never imagined that his family would have to suffer as they were about to do so.<\/p>\n The house came with the position as Music Teacher at the school, so Una had to find a new home for herself and her four children. She took with her all their treasured possessions, and Abels\u2019 sheet music of all his compositions. For a while they survived as a happy family unit as she sold off one treasure after another, and when she realised that the selling of their possessions was more soul destroying that she had realised, she found an even smaller home, at a cheaper rent, asked Siobhan to care for the four children, and found herself work by indentured service to a wealthy landowner. Indenturing was as close to slavery of a person as it was morally permissible by law and church, it provided barely enough to live upon.<\/p>\n She did ask her sister in law if it were possible for her to share the work load in the tavern, but Siobhan now made it quite obvious that she really had no desire to have anything to do with her brother\u2019s widow, a woman with native Indian blood in her veins was not exactly \u2018desired company\u2019. She did condescend to care for the children for a wage.<\/p>\n At age 9 William worked alongside his mother, but by the age of 19 his enterprise and energy had brought him to the attention of Mr Belshaw, and his indentureship ended when he was placed in a good paying position, by the age of 29 he was Belshaws Manager with a good income, married and settled. A self educated man he had a head for figures and an ability to organise labour, Belshaw found him indispensable. The more he accomplished the more he prospered.<\/p>\n Hamish was a handsome strongly built young man and took to the sea. He had a love for music and for reading, but he loved the sea. He returned home one day with a young woman in tow, Isabel Murray. They were married in 1730.<\/p>\n It seemed to Una that life could not be better now, that her little house was now not so little and she could take her ease at last. As she sat in her son\u2019s parlour she marvelled at the little infant in her arms, the perfection of fingers and tiny finger nails, the long dark lashes and the black hair. Oh he was handsome, just like his father, and nothing at all like his grandfather Abel. Ipswich in Massachusetts in the year 1733<\/p>\n Ann Laurence was more than pleased to see her daughter and son in law again, her greeting had been effusive and warm; James Laurence had been more distant, but in had always been in his nature to be less tolerant than his wife, he had been a harsh disciplinarian as a father and Jessica, upon her return found herself noticing her father\u2019s coldness more than she had ever done before. He was abrupt in his speech, and cold and reproving towards Ann who was a warm and devoted wife to him.<\/p>\n \u201cWhy do you let him speak to you like that?\u201d Jessica asked her one morning, \u201cNo man should talk to his wife in that manner?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShouldn\u2019t they?\u201d Ann replied vaguely, and looked at her daughter rather curiously, \u201cJessica, you have to realise that not every marriage is a love match, like yours and Charles\u2019.\u201d<\/p>\n Jessica had been crushed by that reply, the thought that her mother had succumbed to the oppression of such a tyrant for so long, had borne him children and been patient and loving, recalled to her mind the times she had thought about the unfairness of a woman\u2019s worldly goods being handed down to the man. She remembered and now understood why, as a young girl, she had been so strongly influenced to feel about such matters.<\/p>\n She grieved for her mother, for the youth and joys that her mother had lost, for the lack of love she had never known. It sent her into another deep spiral of despondency.<\/p>\n Chapter 13<\/p>\n Philadelphia in the year 1753<\/p>\n Jonathan Abbott paced the floor of the big room as he read his brother\u2019s letter and once he paused in his reading as though to gather his thoughts before he recommenced his careful perusal of his brothers latest news.<\/p>\n Tamar Abbott watched him from her chair by the fire and wondered what it was that had caused her husband to knit his brow so furiously, for the jaw to tauten so, it was at times like this that she could see how close in resemblance her husband was to his father, Charles Abbott.<\/p>\n As her mind touched upon Charles\u2019 memory she sighed, and set down her needlework to think back to the time twenty years ago when Charles and Jessica had left their home, only a week after she and Jonathan had married. Who could possibly have imagined that they would never be seen by them again?<\/p>\n Twenty years? It hardly seemed to have been so long ago. Charles and Jessica had left to spend a summertime with Ann and James Laurence, and had never returned. News had been slow to arrive but it had none the less been devastating. They had left, in company with several others returning to Boston, when they were attacked by a band of hot headed Indians from the Osewega tribe and left for dead on the road.<\/p>\n For some time the tribes living along the borders and within the colonies had began to exhibit some restlessness, their unrest agitated by the influences put upon them by the French colonists who were growing constantly more aggressive in their claims on Virginian territory. Charles, in his attempts to protect the women in the company had died heroically, but for Jessica it had meant a slow lingering slide into mental oblivion, nursed by her mother, until she had died a few weeks later.<\/p>\n Her son, James, had married a girl from the Ipswich colony and took over management of the Laurence\u2019s plantations in Massachusetts, and it seemed, to Tamar at least, that any news from him during the past twenty years was constantly about the incursions of the French and their Indian allies upon their borders.<\/p>\n She was about to open her mouth and ask her husband what was wrong when there came a commotion from the front hallway, the door was flung open and their youngest daughter, Phyllis catapulted into the room,<\/p>\n \u201cMother. Father. Come quickly, Rachel has had an accident -\u201d<\/p>\n Hand on heart Tamar rose from her chair, the needlework fell to her feet and was forgotten as she made a dash to the doorway, Jonathan had stepped forward but paused as his daughter was brought into the room, carried in the arms of a tall young man, wearing no hat and slightly dishevelled.<\/p>\n \u201cExcuse me, sir, madam – but your daughter -?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHere, here – put her here, please\u201d Tamar cried and indicated a comfortable chaise longue upon which Rachel was set, quite gently, by the stranger who stepped back for the mother to reach her daughter\u2019s side.<\/p>\n \u201cI believe that she is not greatly harmed.\u201d he said reassuringly, \u201cI managed to stop the horse -\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe horse?\u201d Jonathan cried, \u201cWhat horse?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cA horse, Papa, it was running loose -\u201d Phyllis exclaimed, her eyes red rimmed from the tears she had shed as she had trailed all the way home behind Rachel and her rescuer.<\/p>\n \u201cIt had obviously been scared by something -\u201d the young man said with a smile, and he raised his hand towards Jonathan, \u201cI\u2019m sorry, I seem to have lost my hat – my name is Daniel, Daniel Cartwright.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMr Cartwright,\u201d Jonathan bowed slightly and shook the proffered hand, \u201cHatless or not, you are more than welcome, and please receive my deepest thanks for your help. I\u2019m afraid Rachel has a tendency to get into scrapes.\u201d<\/p>\n Daniel smiled more broadly now, his dark eyes twinkled and he turned towards the young woman who was now opening her eyes and rubbing her head as a result of the smelling salts stuck under her nose by her mother,<\/p>\n \u201cOuch, my head hurts -\u201d she moaned.<\/p>\n \u201cOh Rachel, Rachel -\u201d Phyllis promptly burst into further tears, \u201cYou\u2019re alright, you\u2019re alright.\u201d she sobbed in relief.<\/p>\n \u201cOf course I\u2019m alright.\u201d Rachel rubbed her head and blinked rather rapidly about her, she smiled at her mother, then at her father and then looked at the young man who was standing looking anxiously at her. \u201cOh dear, are you alright?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m very well, thank you.\u201d his smile broadened, dimples showed in his tanned cheeks.<\/p>\n \u201cI nearly knocked you over -\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou could have done nothing else but that in order not to have been trampled down by that horse.\u201d he declared gallantly and a lock of black hair fell across his brow which he impatiently pushed back.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ve got it -\u201d a voice declared from the doorway, \u201cI found it for you,\u201d and the second daughter of Jonathan and Tamar Abbott hurried into the room bearing aloft her trophy, a rather battered hat.<\/p>\n \u201cThank you, mistress, I thought I had lost it forever\u201d he laughed lightly, it came easily from him, deep within his throat.<\/p>\n \u201cJoanna, ring the bell, get some water for your sister -\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo, mother, it\u2019s alright, I\u2019m quite alright -\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s quite enough, child, Joanna, do as I say.\u201d<\/p>\n The three daughters exchanged glances and with a collective sigh, Joanna did as she was told, while Tamar and Jonathan turned their attention to their uninvited guest,<\/p>\n \u201cMr Cartwright, please sit down – what can we do to thank you for helping Rachel?\u201d Tamar asked in the same tone of voice she would have used had Rachel been having trouble with her school homework and he had sorted out some algebraic problem.<\/p>\n \u201cThank you, Madam, you are very kind, but to be honest I can\u2019t stay any longer, I am already late for an appointment.\u201d Daniel looked towards Rachel, and then at Jonathan, \u201cIf I may have your permission, sir, to call again to see how the young lady is recovering.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOf course -\u201d Jonathan nodded, \u201cOh, my name is Abbott, Jonathan Abbott and this is my wife, Tamar, my daughters – Rachel, Joanna and Phyllis.\u201d<\/p>\n Daniel bowed his head politely to them all in turn, he didn\u2019t say anything about the fact that he already knew only too well exactly who they were, which was more than could be said about them, regarding him.<\/p>\n Boston in the year 1753<\/p>\n Hugh Stoddard had lived up to his grandmothers hopes for he had grown into a handsome man, tall, broad of shoulder, slim waisted, with near black hair and dark eyes, which many attributed to his beautiful grandmother Una. He was intelligent and perceptive with a deep voice that was like a warm caress to the ears, and when he sang people stopped to listen with attention and respect.<\/p>\n His grandmother had lived to see him mature into a man much respected despite his youth, and had died content, being buried in the family plot beside her dearly beloved Abel. Her daughters, Mary and Morag, both married and settled into the responsibilities of family life beyond Boston. William continued to prosper, and settled into a more \u2018elite\u2019 area of the city.<\/p>\n Life, however, was not a settled one for the colonists, particularly those who lived near the French borders. At the end of the 1740\u2019s the French had decided to stake out their main claim on their colonies. Their claims on the territories along the Ohio River conflicted with those of the English colonies, particularly the Virginian planters who had been given a Royal patent to survey the same territory. From Erie, Pennsylvania, all the way through to the mouth of the Mississippi they began to build a chain of impressive forts.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat are you reading there?\u201d<\/p>\n Hugh lowered the newsheet and turned to glance at his friend, Owen Morgan. Morgan\u2019s family had emigrated and arrived in Boston when Hugh had been four years old and Owen was six. They had formed an unholy duo, creating mischief wherever they went but seemingly able to charm the birds from the trees because no one could ever recall either of them receiving any dire punishment for their trouble.<\/p>\n While Hugh was tall, Owen was short and stocky, with the typical dark features of his Celtic forebears. Even though he had lived in Boston since the age of four he still had the soft lilt of the Welsh accent, kept alive by the fact that his family covering several generations were all crowded into the one house with him. Merthyr Tydfil was many miles away, and Evan Morgan, Owen\u2019s father, and his father, Dai, may have left the coal mines of mid-Glamorgan far back, but the songs and poems, the stories and the history of their forebears still made the rafters of their home ring of an evening.<\/p>\n The two lads had matured, were now full grown, they shared a grin and a wink of the eye and their feet seemed instinctively to follow the same route, to the tavern.<\/p>\n \u201cWell now, what were you reading and showing so much interest in too?\u201d Owen demanded, his hands in his pockets, and his dark hair standing, as always, up on end as though he had just had a terrible fright.<\/p>\n \u201cAbout the fighting, of course.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cFighting?\u201d Owen frowned, and shook his head, \u201cNothing you can do about it.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI know that -\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019re not thinking of doing anything stupid, are you, boy?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo, not at all. Are you?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cChut, as if? Would I now?\u201d<\/p>\n They pushed open the doors of the tavern and the thick warm air embraced them, the smell of tobacco, smoke, drink and body odours covered them like a blanket.<\/p>\n \u201cDo you think we should enlist?\u201d Hugh asked having paid his money for two tankards of beer.<\/p>\n \u201cNo, not at all.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhy not? They need men -\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHeavens, man, listen to yourself? You have a family here, don\u2019t you know?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOf course I know, are y ou daft?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSounds to me that you are -\u201d Owen buried his face into the tankard and gulped down the beer, \u201cPhew, why do we drink in this place, the beers awful.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell, I\u2019m told they\u2019re some kind of relation to us -\u201d Hugh muttered, and doodled patterns on the table from the spilt beer.<\/p>\n \u201cAnyway, I thought you were planning to court that Elinor Morris, or have you changed your mind?\u201d \u201cI don\u2019t know, I doubt if she will give me another look now her father keeps giving me the evil eye.\u201d<\/p>\n Owen just grinned and shrugged. He sighed and looked around him, and after a few moments of silence had passed between them, during which both were listening to the conversation going on around them, he leaned forward towards his friend,<\/p>\n \u201cFrom the talk hereabouts not one man thinks this fighting will come to anything, the British Government is sending in more and more men to fight. There won\u2019t be anything for us to do.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cUs?\u201d Hugh grinned impishly.<\/p>\n \u201cCan\u2019t leave you to have all the fun, can I? If you were to join up, I\u2019d be coming too.\u201d he drained his tankard and set it down on the table, \u201cNot that we will, you\u2019ll see, it\u2019ll be all over soon as winking.\u201d<\/p>\n Chapter 14<\/p>\n Adam stretched to ease the kink in his back before he leaned forward to turn up the flame in the oil lamp. He frowned slightly at the papers and various things strewn across the table and then looked over at his father who was looking thoughtfully at what appeared to be a letter in his hand,<\/p>\n \u201cFound anything interesting?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cCould be a clue to our missing ancestor.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhich one?\u201d Adam replied laconically, \u201cThere\u2019s a host of them d\u2019you realise? I mean, where did this Charles Abbott come from for a start? What happened to the sister in Boston who disappeared and was never heard of again -\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhich one?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cExactly?\u201d he ran a finger around his collar and sighed, \u201cTo be honest, Pa, we\u2019re getting more questions than answers. It\u2018s really annoying me\u201d and he gave a soft chuckle as though laughing at himself for taking everything so seriously.<\/p>\n \u201cWell, this could answer one of them -\u201d Ben replied, handing over the paper in his hand and sucking harder on the stem of his pipe.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat is it? Oh – dated 1753, Ipswich.\u201d he glanced at his father, \u201cBut I thought -\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cRead on -\u201d Ben smiled.<\/p>\n Boston in the year 1753<\/p>\n Once the door had closed on the stranger, Jonathan picked up his letter and began to read from where he had left off. Tamar was fussing around her daughter and checking the state of the egg swelling on her forehead and the swelling of her ankle, it became a topic of discussion as to whether or not to get the doctor between her and her three daughters while Jonathan read on unheeded.<\/p>\n Once again he re-read some sections, hummed and hawed, shook his head and declared several things as being impossible, but no one took any notice of him so he sat down in the chair to read it all through from beginning to end more carefully.<\/p>\n With the hubbub surrounding Rachel\u2019s injury beginning to get on his nerves he rang a bell which was on the desk at his elbow, which gained immediate silence and a maid hurrying into the room to await orders. He cleared his throat, asked the maid to bring in coffee and then turned to the four females who were waiting with some impatience to find out what was wrong.<\/p>\n He stood up and raised the letter in the air<\/p>\n \u201cIs it to do with your letter, dear?\u201d Tamar asked, her blue eyes widening in enquiry.<\/p>\n \u201cYou are, as always, very perceptive, my dear.\u201d came the reply couched unfortunately in rather sarcastic tones.<\/p>\n The daughters looked at one another, while the mother sat down in her vacated chair and waited to be told more. Jonathan, a kindly man but not prone to patience, surveyed each one of them thoughtfully, and admitted to himself that the girls were pretty, an asset to him and to Tamar, but not one of them had the bold dark brown eyes of his own father, nor the dark colouring, each of them had blonde hair varying from flaxen to corn coloured, resembling the Sutton family to an almost depressing degree. He hemmed loudly,<\/p>\n \u201cFirst of all – a question.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh good,\u201d Phyllis sat down with a smile, she was 11 years of age and slightly precocious, \u201cI like your questions, Papa, especially if I know the answer.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIf you know the answer to this one I shall give you a reward,\u201d her father replied generously which was greeted with applause from Phyllis and Joanna, who lived in hopes, being 13 years of age she was more sceptical about her fathers offer.<\/p>\n \u201cNow, think carefully,\u201d he eyed them all, including Tamar, which wasn\u2019t always the best idea because she sometimes fell asleep while thinking, \u201cWho did that young man remind you of ?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe young man who just brought Rachel home?\u201d Tamar asked hopefully and just to make sure of the facts before she engaged her brain.<\/p>\n \u201cWas there another?\u201d Jonathan asked in tones dripping sarcasm.<\/p>\n He could see that they were all thinking furiously, they stared up at the ceiling or into the fire, eyes half closed and brows furrowed, mouths open or not, but certainly pursed. He began to stride the floor, the letter rustling in between his fingers,<\/p>\n \u201cWell? Well?\u201d he suddenly shouted so that it sounded liked two gun shots exploding in the room, startling them all, the cups and saucers on the tray the maid was bringing in rattled alarmingly.<\/p>\n \u201cHe looks familiar, but I swear I\u2019ve never seen him before.\u201d Rachel protested, hoping that her father was not hinting at some clandestine meeting on her part with the stranger.<\/p>\n \u201cI thought he looked like you, Papa,\u201d Phyllis said innocently, \u201cOnly thinner -\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnd younger -\u201d Joanna added.<\/p>\n He rustled the papers and straightened his back,<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ll read you what your Uncle James has written here -\u201d he glanced at them all over the edge of the paper to make sure they were paying attention, \u201c\u201d Now, Jonathan -\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAre you reading the letter now , dear?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIf I may?\u201d came the sarcastic reply.<\/p>\n \u201cNow, Jonathan, a few days ago we were faced with quite a puzzle when a young man arrived on our doorstep asking if any Cartwrights lived here. Of course, there hasn\u2019t been a Cartwright by name living here for nearly a hundred years I believe, so when he looked rather disappointed I assured him that the same family had lived here since the place had been established in the previous century. \u2018Yes\u2019 he replied, \u2018by someone called Francis Cartwright.\u2019 I immediately sensed a problem here, and agreed somewhat reluctantly that our forebears had borne the name Cartwright but we were now Abbotts.<\/p>\n \u201cBut,\u2019 he then said, \u2018there was once a Joseph Cartwright here, who was killed in an accident?\u2019 I didn\u2019t know what he was talking about and said so quite clearly. He tried to ingratiate himself further but must have realised I was not going to brook any nonsense from him. He left looking very disgruntled but – to be honest, Jonathan – he had a very familiar look about him.<\/p>\n \u2018 Later I was approached by Parson Grieves who mentioned that a young man by the name Daniel Cartwright had been asking about our family. I believe this said person is now on his way to see you. Be careful, Jonathan, he could be making claims to be he has no right. I know how generous and open handed – \u2018 er – um – well, we won\u2019t go into that any further, irrelevant.\u201d Jonathan folded the letter and looked once again at his assembly of girls, \u201cWell, what do you think of that?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI thought you read it marvellously,\u201d Tamar said unblinkingly, \u201cJust like a story book,\u201d she smiled at the girls who all dutifully nodded agreement, \u201cI\u2019ll pour the coffee now, shall I?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cFather, I think Uncle James is right,\u201d Rachel said solemnly, \u201cI think that young man could well be related to us.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAh -\u201d Jonathan brightened, he pounced towards Rachel \u201cWhat makes you say so?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe old bible has a list of all the names, dates of birth and deaths, doesn\u2019t it?\u201d she said slowly, fingering the tassel on her jacket, \u201cThere was a Joseph Cartwright, and he was killed in an accident. He had a son called David who never died – I mean – there\u2019s no date recorded of his death. If I remember rightly, there was a legend in the family about someone who went to sea and never came back.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPeople do get lost at sea,\u201d Tamar said handing her husband some coffee and rather absent mindedly forgetting to let go of the saucer so there was a minor tug of war before Jonathan could take his drink to the safety o f his desk, \u201cI had a great Uncle who was drowned at sea once.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOnly once, Mama?\u201d Phyllis asked and giggled behind her hand as her mothers blank features indicated that she was having to think about that -.<\/p>\n \u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026.<\/p>\n Daniel Cartwright was surprised at the welcome he received several days later when he called to enquire about the invalid, a large bunch of flowers in his hand and a new hat in the other. Jonathan greeted him cordially enough and offered him a seat, while a maid relieved the visitor of the flowers and the hat.<\/p>\n \u201cMr Cartwright -\u201d Jonathan sat down and surveyed the younger man thoughtfully, \u201cI believe you paid my brother a visit recently?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s true.\u201d Daniel nodded, and sighed, \u201cI was under the impression that -\u201d he paused now and bit down on his bottom lip, his dark brows furrowed across the tanned skin and then he shrugged, \u201c I thought he would be able to help me with some enquiries.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cEnquiries about what exactly?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cFamily, sir.\u201d he looked directly into Jonathans face and the other man looked down, stared at his boots and bit HIS bottom lip, \u201cAs I am sure you are aware\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, of course,\u201d Jonathan stroked his chin, and leaned back into the chair, \u201cWhat enquiries – I mean – what exactly was it you wanted to know?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s rather awkward -\u201d Daniel murmured, \u201c You see, my Grandfather died only a few years ago. His name was David Cartwright.\u201d he glanced up in time to see Jonathan\u2019s neck redden, \u201cHe was an old man, but for as long as I can remember he would tell me the story about his father, Benjamin Cartwright, who was the son of an Englishman called Francis. He told me how life had been hard for them coming to the colonies, and how they had settled in a place called by the native Indians Agawum, later known as Ipswich.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAre you claiming to be descended from this Francis Cartwright?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cUndoubtedly, sir. With as much right to the claim as yourself I should think,\u201d came the reply given with some force.<\/p>\n \u201cTell me about your Grandfather – David.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe went to the Latin School in Boston, but unfortunately got involved with rather a wrong crowd, if his Grandfather, Benjamin, had not taken steps to remove him from there he would have been expelled.\u201d Daniel frowned thoughtfully, \u201cI\u2019m afraid my Grandfather was never repentant of his youthful deeds, he was sent off to sea in a ship called the Demaris but ran off as soon as he could when it docked in Holland.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cGo on -\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe led a rather wild life until he decided that he had quite enjoyed the sea after all, so he signed on for a ship going to the West Indies where he met my Grandmother, Carolyn. My father, Jack, was born there, as was my Uncle Henry.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnd yourself?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMy father and Uncle are both seamen, and while my Uncle preferred to stay in the West Indies my father settled here when he married my mother, Ann Sheldon. I was born in Maryland, 22 years ago.\u201d<\/p>\n Jonathan rose to his feet and began to pace the floor, he pursed his lips and folded his hands behind his back before turning to look at Daniel who remained calmly seated.<\/p>\n \u201cYou could have found all this out by looking through various records, of which, I am sure some exist.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIndeed, I\u2019m sure they do.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat papers do you have to prove your claim?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI didn\u2019t think I would have to prove my claim.\u201d Daniel rose to his feet now and looked at the other man kindly, \u201cClaim is perhaps, a strong word. I only wished to make an acquaintance with my family. Curiousity perhaps – call it what you will – my father isn\u2019t that much interested, he\u2019s happy in his own life, but my Grandfather and I, well, we had a special bond. He would talk to me for hours about how things had been in Agawum, and how happy everything was until his father was killed.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDo you know how he was killed?\u201d Jonathan asked quietly.<\/p>\n \u201cShot in the head in a hunting accident, by a man called Jason \u2026Jason \u2026\u201d he paused, \u201cGrandfather was never very good at remembering names, he could only recall that the young man committed suicide and that not long afterwards he was bundled off to school in Boston.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, the young man couldn\u2019t bear the consequences of what had happened,\u201d Jonathan sighed, \u201cHe cut his own throat – .\u201d he frowned, \u201cYou could have found that out from old Parson Grieves, he likes to talk when he\u2019s had a few tankards under his belt.\u201d<\/p>\n Daniel smiled and nodded,<\/p>\n \u201cYes, true enough, I found that out -\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThen I could dismiss all that you have said as hearsay.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou could, sir.\u201d Daniel replied, \u201cBut as I said I didn\u2019t come to make any claims on you. My father is a good seaman, as am I, we do well for ourselves, we don\u2019t need to make claims on relatives that seem reluctant to acknowledge us.\u201d he turned to go, and followed from the room by the older man.<\/p>\n \u201cYou must understand that -\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI do understand,\u201d Daniel said quietly, retrieving his hat from the smiling maid who dropped him a curtsey, \u201cBy the way, sir -\u201d he paused then, picking up the bouquet of flowers as he did so, \u201cYou do not ask the significance of my name?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cCartwright? I know the significance of that name.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI meant – my first name – Daniel?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI fail to understand what you mean \u2026\u201d Jonathan\u2019s voice trailed away<\/p>\n \u201cMy Grandfather said that when he was a boy he was looking through a big book, he thinks it was the bible, he saw his name and the name of another born on the same day. He asked his mother who the other boy was, and what had happened to him. It was his twin brother, Daniel, and he had died aged 3. He said that made an impact on him \u2026\u201d<\/p>\n There was silence between them, after a moment Daniel handed Jonathan the flowers,<\/p>\n \u201cPlease give these to Mistress Rachel, with my compliments, I hope she is much improved.\u201d<\/p>\n Jonathan stammered a thank you, took the flowers and watched as the tall young man was shown the door. As it closed behind him Jonathan called to his manservant –<\/p>\n \u201cFollow him, tell him that if he has time we would hope he will join us for dinner this evening.\u201d<\/p>\n For some seconds he stood there, deep in thought, then he turned and went to the library where the big family bible stood, he turned the pages to where the family had traced their geneology and as he had expected found the names of two boys born in the year 1674, Daniel and David. \u201cHere\u2019s another letter -\u201d Ben passed the faded yellow slip of paper to his son, who took it with a slight air of distraction, \u201cAnything more on the Stoddards?\u201d<\/p>\n Adam smiled and pointed to the dried relic of the floral bouquet before returning to read the letter, he set it down and jotted down a note of his own<\/p>\n \u201cThe thing with Grandfather Stoddard is that although he has proven to be rather sentimental, in that he didn\u2019t throw anything of this away, and even added to it, he didn\u2019t keep a methodical record available.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell,\u201d Ben flourished his pipe in the air, \u201che never was very good at keeping the log book either, the truth of the matter is that Abel was a dreamer, although he would never have wanted anyone else to think that, probably Elizabeth was the only one who did know it.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell, it\u2019s not much help at the moment -\u201d Abel Stoddard\u2019s grandson muttered under his breath.<\/p>\n Philadelphia in the year 1755<\/p>\n \u201cDearest Rachel,<\/p>\n You can\u2019t imagine how hard it was to leave you so soon after the birth of our dear son. I pray that both you and he are well, and that he continues to thrive. What a handsome little boy he is going to become, God keep him safe. I pray also for you, dearest Rachel, and kiss your picture that I carry with me everywhere.<\/p>\n The situation here at present is not good, although, having said that, dearest, I don\u2019t want you to worry unduly. I am far safer on board ship than the poor souls on the ground. I have heard a whisper that it will not be long before there is a formal declaration of war between France and England. We have captured several ships taking arms and supplies to Montcalm and the other French Officers at Lake George and Lake Complian, we have freed the men, but once war is declared that may no longer be the practice.<\/p>\n I can\u2019t say more, my dear, about the current situation, except that we harass the French as best we can, so that we can prevent Montcalm from getting reinforcements, but I fear for the safety of the colonies for the English soldiers have no idea of what kind of fight this could become. There is a terrible strong presence of Osage, Huron, and other Indians who are gathering in great numbers along the Delaware.<\/p>\n I look forward so much to seeing you again very soon.<\/p>\n Your devoted husband, Daniel Cartwright.\u201d<\/p>\n Scribbled in pencil at the back of the letter ; \u2019Before sending this to you, sweetheart, I have to tell you that my father was killed in action \u2026D\u2019<\/p>\n Albany in the year 1756<\/p>\n At the spot where the Monongahela and the Allegheny rivers met the English had built a fort, but in 1754 the French destroyed it and Fort Duquesne was built to replace it, and under a French flag. Hostilities began, and a young Virginian by the name of George Washington took command of a small force against the French only to face defeat. It left him and his fellow colonists ready for another fight. He had a further six years conflict ahead of him.<\/p>\n The English Government sent soldiers to fight alongside the colonists and the allied Indians against the French and their allies. It created in the hearts of the colonists a sudden awareness of their loyalties, for so long so far removed from their British roots and now fighting shoulder to shoulder with them for the lands that they now felt was theirs by birthright.<\/p>\n Hugh enlisted in the army and left his pregnant wife, home and family to join the new British command under Lord Abercrombie in Albany. The French Commander opposing them was a man the Colonists were to remember for years to come, his name was Montcalm. While Abercrombie dithered about in Albany, Montcalm took bold action, and gained victories.<\/p>\n \u201cLook, Owen,\u201d the young man leaned against the wall of a house and wiped his brow, the sun was high and even the walls of the house seemed to burn from its heat, \u201cyou tell me now what point is there in remaining here? It\u2019s like we were flies pinned to the wall -\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou mean you\u2019re feeling like a fly pinned to the wall -\u201d the other man smiled, his pale grey blue eyes twinkled, and they shared a laugh together.<\/p>\n \u201cYou have to admit that we haven\u2019t achieved much, have we?\u201d Hugh said, straightening himself up and looking around him, \u201cSometimes it seems as though there\u2019s no war on at all, the days pass and we stay here -\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBecause there\u2019s nothing else we can do.\u201d Owen replied and joined his friend leaning against the wall.<\/p>\n Together, and in silence, they watched as scarlet coated English soldiers of the Coldstream Guards marched past them, further along soldiers were being drilled by a loud mouthed R.S.M<\/p>\n \u201cPity them -\u201d Owen muttered, \u201cpoor devils, they haven\u2019t a clue as to what they\u2019re up against.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI was talking to one of them the other day, said he was scared stiff when he saw his first Indian. I said, wait until they come at you with their tomahawks and screams, you\u2019ll think you\u2019re in hell.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat did he say to that?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe said he thought he was already.\u201d<\/p>\n They shared a half sympathetic grin between them before watching the soldiers once more,<\/p>\n \u201cThey\u2019ll do the best they can, but I don\u2019t reckon their chances,\u201d Owen now said slowly, \u201cI\u2019ve not been here long but long enough to have learned something about the way the Indians fight, and how to conduct myself in the wilderness yonder\u201d he paused and glanced at his friend, \u201cWhat are you thinking?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI am thinking of Elinor – sorry, Owen, my mind was wondering, and I couldn\u2019t help but think of her.\u201d Hugh blushed a little now, and looked away at the horizon, where the smoke rose from the chimneys of the sun kissed houses.<\/p>\n Owen said nothing to that, but turned his head away and looked in the opposite direction. He saw a carriage pull up in front of the house commandeered by Abercrombie, the Officer in charge of the English forces, and watched as several officers stepped down and entered the house, followed by several Indian scouts who had been hanging around the building as though waiting for someone, obviously their patience had been rewarded.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat do they find to talk about?\u201d he murmured in his Welsh lilt and then turned to look at Hugh, \u201cThere isn\u2019t much you can do about it now, Hugh, you\u2019ve just got to get on with the business at hand and leave thoughts of Elinor behind.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cEasier said than done,\u201d Hugh sighed.<\/p>\n Owen shrugged and returned his attention to the Officers\u2019 accommodation. He wondered if Hugh had ever realised how much he, Owen, actually loved Elinor himself. Why, didn\u2019t he worship the ground she walked upon? A prettier looking girl and a sweeter tempered one he had never found, and he had loved her from the first moment he had seen her, even before Hugh had any rights to claim love of her.<\/p>\n He should have told her then and there, all that time ago, how much he loved her, but then a girl of twelve is hardly likely to take seriously the protestations of love from a boy of the same age, although, perhaps, she would have kept it in consideration for when they had grown older.<\/p>\n Owen sighed, no, it wouldn\u2019t have worked, as soon as Elinor had seen Hugh she had set her bonnet at him, and he, well, he had loved her as much. Owen, with the soul of a poet and the blood of bards flowing through his veins, had stepped back, made no claims, only sworn to be a loyal friend to both of them.<\/p>\n He wondered what Hugh would have thought if he told him about the evening before they left, and how Elinor had sought him, Owen, out and with tears had begged him to care for Hugh, to make sure he was safe, to keep close and to make sure nothing, no one, would harm him, but that he would return safely to home, to his wife, and to his as yet unborn child.<\/p>\n \u201cSeems like something is happening now, after all.\u201d Hugh said loudly, his voice breaking through Owen\u2019s thoughts, \u201cThey want us to muster up \u2026\u201d<\/p>\n Boston in the year 1756<\/p>\n Elinor Stoddards home was small and neat, the furniture and hangings were of the minimum, perhaps when Hugh returned home and returned to work there would be more money after all, her father had assured her that Hugh would get good wages for a good days work and being at sea, in her father\u2019s own ship, would guarantee them security for time to come.<\/p>\n She sat by the window and looked out through the window at the harbour, gulls flew overhead and shrieked at one another, heralding the fishing boats were in. Patrick Morris wasn\u2019t into fishing he was more involved in mercantile, and, some whispered, that even involved the slave running business.<\/p>\n She bent her head and concentrated on her needlework, smocking the little garment that would be for her son or daughter. This new life conceived so soon after the wedding hadn\u2019t been planned, but was nevertheless welcome. When her fears for Hugh became too great, she would think of the little one, and make her plans, as so many mothers had done in the years prior to her, she would run through the list of names for him or her, and think of all the changes that would make to their lives.<\/p>\n She sighed now and set the needlework to one side. The bouquet of flowers she had kept from her wedding was faded and dry, the colours had blended into a background of subtle hues, no longer vibrant. She picked the bouquet up and some petals fell to the ground \u2026 she looked at it thoughtfully and wondered if now was the time to throw it to one side, discard it, forget it.<\/p>\n The wedding day had been so full of promise, the sun had shone, no clouds in the sky, and Hugh so handsome, and Owen by his side as she walked up the aisle and leaned upon her fathers arm. The flowers meant and reminded her of all the promise that day had contained. She couldn\u2019t discard them, it would be like closing a book on the most important moment of her life were she to do so.<\/p>\n Chapter 16<\/p>\n Philadelphia in the year 1757<\/p>\n The house gleamed in the light of a fading fall sun, shadows from the trees surrounding it seemed to embrace the building as though to warn any stranger approaching to beware in causing any harm to it, all in their embrace came within their protection.<\/p>\n It was, in fact, how he remembered it and as he approached the door he paused awhile to look around him, and to remember the very first time he had come to the house, carrying Rachel Abbott in his arms and looking down at her sweet face as he stood at the door. Even as he raised his hand to knock it was thrown open and a woman stood before him, golden hair dishevelled and tears streaming down her face while her arms reached out to embrace him. \u201cCome, let\u2019s go inside -\u201d he whispered softly into her ear and gently led her into the vast hall, where others of the family were gathering.<\/p>\n \u201cI wanted to be first to see you -\u201d she cried, holding onto his arm, and looking into his dark eyes as though in fear of him melting away before her.<\/p>\n \u201cAnd I – just wanted to see you.\u201d he whispered.<\/p>\n \u201cWelcome home, Daniel\u201d a deep voice sounded overloud and the young man looked up to see Jonathan Abbott standing nearby, a kindly smile on his face, and his powdered wig immaculate on his head, making his tanned skin appear even darker.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s good to have you back, young man.\u201d another deep voice, almost a replica of the first, from James Abbott who extended his hand to shake that of the newcomer.<\/p>\n There they were gathered, all nervous, all wondering what to say and how to say it. Tamar, dithering as ever with her grey curls tumbling down over her shoulders and her gown far too low in the bosom, Joanna clinging to the arm of a thin young man whom Daniel vaguely remembered having met before he left for sea all those months ago, and little Phyllis looking up with shy frightened eyes. He forced a smile, shook their hands, and marvelled yet again at how wonderful it was that people could appear to be living such normal lives when he had just left hell.<\/p>\n \u201cWe didn\u2019t know you were back -\u201d Tamar said, rushing up now to cling to his other arm and nearly overbalancing him in the process. \u201cWhen did you get back?\u201d<\/p>\n Jonathan came nearer, a hand settled heavily upon his shoulder, he thought he would fall under its weight, but heard his father in law enquire after his health and then James\u2019 voice saying something and all the while they remained standing in the hall and he leaning heavily upon his wife\u2019s arm.<\/p>\n \u201cYou need a rest, come along you can answer all their questions later.\u201d she said quietly, and in a voice so determined that everyone fell back to allow them to pass them by.<\/p>\n It seemed to him he had been walking for hours, but now that he had arrived his legs seemed too weak to carry him further. He could only smile like an idiot as the faces around him merged into one and he felt himself falling forwards and everything receding into a blackness darker than night.<\/p>\n When he opened his eyes the sunlight was streaming through the windows of the bedroom. He loved this room, it was white and pale blue with pictures adorning the walls and two large mirrors. He stayed quite still as the warmth bathed him comfortably from head to toe, he closed his eyes and listened to birds singing, and from what seemed a long way distant, the sound of traffic.<\/p>\n No gun fire, no screams, no war whoops.<\/p>\n He fell into a deep sleep and when he next opened his eyes she was sitting beside his bed, and on her lap sat a little boy who was looking at him gravely, thumb in mouth, and damp hair curling over his head.<\/p>\n \u201cHello, darling.\u201d<\/p>\n She leaned forward as though to catch more clearly the whispered words and smiled that slow magical smile that lit up her eyes and brought dimples to her cheeks, the infant raised a hand to clutch at the ribbons in her hair.<\/p>\n \u201cHello, my sweet.\u201d<\/p>\n Their lips touched in the tenderest of kisses, and he raised a hand to caress her cheek, how soft it was, and how lovely her perfume, he wanted the moment to last forever.<\/p>\n \u201cThis is your son, this is Francis,\u201d she said softly, and turned a little to the side so that the child could look down upon his father and Daniel could see his son, capriciously the boy hid his face in the folds of his mothers shawl, \u201cHe\u2019s shy -\u201d she said quickly, and her face fell a little in disappointment, perhaps she had thought the boy would remember him and just say \u201cHi , Pa\u201d and him only being days old when his father had left home, the thought amused Daniel for he laughed in the way she loved so much.<\/p>\n \u201cOh Daniel, welcome home.\u201d she sighed, and kissed him again.<\/p>\n Could he ever have enough of her kisses? How he had longed for this moment, to see her again, to know that she was safe and loved him still.<\/p>\n Chepontuc” (Iroquois; “difficult place to get around”), also referred to as the “Great Carrying Place,”<\/p>\n Hugh Stoddard put his hands to his ears to block out the sounds that were all around him now, although he kept his eyes alert, glancing constantly from left to right and back again. It didn\u2019t pay to be careless, not with so many Indian scouts hunting down anyone who belonged to the British or Colonial armies. He felt his elbow nudged by Owen and turned,<\/p>\n \u201cDo you think it\u2019s safe to move now?\u201d Owen whispered.<\/p>\n In answer Hugh put his finger to his lips and shook his head, pointed to just above his head and with a grimace both men hugged closer to the ground. Another man sidled down close to them, his blackened face a sign of recent battle, and the blood staining his previously white cravat evidence of some injury. He placed a hand on Hugh\u2019s arm and nodded, as though to confirm that they were on the same side.<\/p>\n \u201cDid you see anything?\u201d Hugh whispered to the newcomer.<\/p>\n \u201cToo much,\u201d came the reply, \u201c I barely got away with my life.\u201d<\/p>\n Owen said nothing, but stared about him with the same alertness a deer would have when having heard the sound of the hunter\u2019s guns. He tugged at Hugh\u2019s arm and signalled that they slide further down into the undergrowth.<\/p>\n \u201cThey can\u2019t call it a war when they slaughter women and babes like that -\u201d Hugh whispered to the Officer who had shed his scarlet coat upon realising how easily the Huron could see it through the trees.<\/p>\n \u201cThey slaughtered injured and dying men in the hospital quarters, I saw them scalp them -\u201d the Englishman whispered back, \u201cI only hope they suffer as a result.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIf it\u2019s true what we were told they will -\u201d Hugh said grimly.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat did you hear?\u201d the Officer whispered back and stared anxiously into their faces.<\/p>\n \u201cThat there was smallpox there -\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, and many who died of smallpox were buried there in the grounds, but the Indians dug the graves up to descecrate the dead* -\u201d the Englishman\u2019s lips were bleeding from where he had bitten down on them so hard during his escape from the horrors of his escape from the Frenchmen and their allies, he wiped his brow, \u201cFools that they are, they\u2019ll kill more of their own people as a result.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cTrue enough, \u201cOwen whispered, \u201cSmallpox doesn\u2019t care about the colour of a man\u2019s skin, or his religion, come to that -\u201d<\/p>\n There came the sound of other men approaching, stealthy footsteps, soil and grass and leaves being shifted by booted feet and several more men came and slid into position by their sides, several soldiers, some settlers, an Indian scout who clutched his coup stick firmly in his bloodied hand. Hugh and Owen glanced at one another, feeling already that their shelter had suddenly become rather over crowded.<\/p>\n \u201cIf we can get to the river, we could get to the caves -\u201d one of the colonists whispered, he pointed to the Indian, a youth from the Osage tribe, \u201cHe said there are caves everywhere around here.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThen you go, there\u2019s nothing to stop you -\u201d the Officer whispered in return and watched them as they slithered and sidled their way from the hollow to eventually disappear into the trees. \u201cNot going far just yet,\u201d Hugh said quietly, \u201cOwen\u2019s been injured.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s nothing -\u201d Owen said quickly, \u201cI can move.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cLet\u2019s go then,\u201d the Officer said and paused, \u201cNot the way they went, they\u2019re heading into trouble.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou can\u2019t know that,\u201d Hugh replied, giving Owen a helping hand to get to his feet,.<\/p>\n \u201cTrue, but to my mind there\u2019s too large a group of them, and the savages out there won\u2019t take long to notice them.\u201d<\/p>\n Owen nodded agreement and with Hugh\u2019s arm around him to give him support they made their way through the thick undergrowth. What a blessing that no settlers had yet decided to clear the land, and that so far they had moved without being seen. The terrible sounds of the slaughter was receding now, the French would claim this as a victory Hugh told himself, but it wsn\u2019t really any such thing, it had been an out and out massacre of innocents who had been promised free passage to Fort Edward. Nothing made sense anymore, nothing.<\/p>\n Thankfully they had been towards the front of the column when the Indians struck, it was those in the rearguard, closest to the Fort that had suffered the worse harm, and, of course, the women and children. When some Indians had attacked them Owen and Hugh had fought back to back, just as they had fought when boys in the streets back home against \u2018the big boys\u2019. A tomahawk had smashed into Owen\u2019s leg, and as he fell Hugh followed him, and they had plunged head long down a crevasse into the hollow. The Indian with so many other victims to pick and choose upon, had left them to their fate and thus they had survived\u2026 so far.<\/p>\n It was Owen who saw the Huron first, he drew his pistol and fired even as he pushed Hugh out of the way, at the same instant the English Officer drew his sword and ran at the Indian who had already sent his knife speeding towards its target. Owens pistol had fallen from his hand, the knife had pierced his chest and he staggered some paces back upon his injured leg. Hugh caught him before he could fall and lowered him carefully to the ground while above them the soldier and the Huron fought their own battle. They heard the clash of good Sheffield steel against the thud of the singing Tomahawk, and the grunts of the two men as they struggled one against the other for supremacy.<\/p>\n \u201cOwen -\u201d Hugh whispered softly in his friends ear, \u201cOwen, hang on, you can \u2018t die \u2026\u201d<\/p>\n Owen merely smiled, shook his head and turned to look into his friend\u2019s face, saw the moist eyes and the trembling mouth, he sighed,<\/p>\n \u201cTell her I loved her -\u201d he said softly, \u201cTell her I kept my promise -\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI will, Owen, but hold on now, you can tell her yourself.\u201d<\/p>\n Owen could barely shake his head now, he struggled to see Hugh\u2019s face clearly, he put his hand to his jacket, and his fingers groped for what he sought, then he smiled as though in satisfaction,<\/p>\n \u201cName your son after me, Hugh -\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou know we would have done anyway.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cJust in case -\u201d his fingers tightened around the rose he had taken from her bouquet on her wedding day, he had kept it in his pocket all this time, and who knew but himself.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ve always known you loved her, Owen, always, and in lots of ways you were the better man for her, I knew that, but she loved me, otherwise I would have -\u201d Hugh paused, gulped, \u201cI would have done what you have done for me, I would have stepped aside for you both to have been happy but -\u201d he stopped again and looked down at his friends face, \u201cOwen?\u201d<\/p>\n The soldier grabbed at his shoulder, shook him, he was breathing hard and fast, the battle with the Huron had been difficult and his own wounds betrayed his weakness, but he had won and now there was no time to lose. He shook Hugh\u2019s shoulder again,<\/p>\n \u201cCome, man, we have to go if you want to live.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMy friend -\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThere\u2019s nothing you can do for your friend now. Come -\u201d and he turned, sword still clutched in his hand and hurried several paces before stopping and turning, \u201cCome, you can\u2019t stay here unless you want to die with him.\u201d<\/p>\n Hugh managed, somehow, to get to his feet, he looked at Owen, at the still form stretched upon the fronds of bracken and grass, and waited for the chest to rise and fall, some indication of life, but there was nothing.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ll tell her, Owen brawd, I\u2019ll tell her \u2026\u201d he brushed aside tears, \u201cdiolch, da bach*\u201d<\/p>\n Boston in the year 1757<\/p>\n There was the first sign of snow in the air, and Elinor Stoddard closed the window to the room and looked at the meagre fire in the grate. In the shadows there came movement and she turned, smiled as Bronwyn Morgan came into the room and closed the door behind her,<\/p>\n \u201cHave to keep the room warm for you, Elinor.\u201d the Welsh lilt of her voice made Elinor smile and she leaned down and put another log on the fire, and turned to look at her friend who had come to share the little house with her until Hugh returned home, after all, she knew he would, she knew Hugh could never leave her.<\/p>\n \u201cI heard in town that the French captured Fort William Henry.\u201d the Welsh girl paused and looked at Elinor who seemed to have frozen to the spot, half crouched with her hand reached out still for another log, \u201cbut I don\u2019t think the boyo\u2019s were there, were they?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d Elinor straightened herself and turned to the window, she needed air, and she pushed it open again, \u201cNo, they wouldn\u2019t be there, Bronwyn, they\u2019re coming home.\u201d<\/p>\n Bronwyn said nothing to that, but placed her home spun shawl across the rocking chair next to the fire. The flames were beginning to take hold on the fresh logs placed on them, and she looked into the fire and wondered where they all would be if the French marched in Boston in the same way it was reported that they had walked into the Fort.<\/p>\n Elinor looked up at the sky and prayed. She needed her husband home, she wished that the baby they had been expecting had lived so that she had a son to show him upon his return. She felt barren, not only in body, but also in soul. When he returned, when he came home again, then she would be whole once again.<\/p>\n Philadelphia in the year 1757<\/p>\n Daniel Cartwright didn\u2019t talk much about what had happened on board ship, he told them only of the blockades on the French ships in the Atlantic, and the regular excursions on Lake George to take fresh troops to the Forts there, he referred lightly to the fighting and the miserable conditions for the soldiers, claiming that the seamen had had a better time of it, but after that he didn\u2019t discuss it.<\/p>\n He didn\u2019t tell them of the time the boat he was in was blown up by a French cannon ball and how he had been ill for weeks with a broken hip which although healed had left him with a need to lean and rest awhile, although thankfully due to the skill of the surgeon, he had no limp, and the assurance that in time, with good food and rest, he would recover completely.<\/p>\n As he sat with his wife\u2019s head resting upon his shoulder, and his little son sleeping in his arms, Daniel Cartwright thought himself the most blessed of men. He had survived \u2026 and he was home.<\/p>\n Chapter 17<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019ll find this interesting to read,\u201d Ben murmured and handed his son part of a broadsheet, so long ago folded and tucked away that it was in danger of falling into several parts as Adam carefully unfolded it.<\/p>\n \u201cHave you read it before?\u201d Adam enquired but Ben shook his head, and turned his attention to other papers still scattered over the surface of the table.<\/p>\n Adam smoothed out the yellowing paper. It had been torn roughly from the remainder of the broadsheet, and then very carefully folded away and placed in the package along with the other Stoddard documents. As his eyes lingered over the old fashioned printing out of the news his mind thought of the care that would have been taken to set out the letters, place them in order and then to print out the columns of news, even the detail of the engraving that depicted the scene was very impressive.<\/p>\n \u201cWell?\u201d<\/p>\n He glanced up, taken from his wool gathering by Ben\u2019s question and he sighed,<\/p>\n \u201cThe picture was engraved and printed by Paul Revere*, and sold to the journalists for this broadsheet.\u201d he muttered<\/p>\n \u201cAnd so?\u201d<\/p>\n Adam cleared his throat,<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s a very graphic telling of the Boston Massacre or, as they have called it The Bloody Massacre* perpetuated in King Street, Boston on March 5th 1770 \u2026\u201d he read the parts that could be deciphered for the old broadsheet was so yellowed and creased with age that most were no longer clear for reading, \u201cThey certainly didn\u2019t spare their readers from any details of the manner of the deaths, \u2018Samuel Grey, killed on the floor, the ball entering his head and beating off a large portion of his skull, and further gruesome details of the other deaths.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cTo be in the wrong place at the wrong time -\u201d Ben sighed, and tapped the ash from his pipe into the hearth for he had left the table to return to the fire, \u201cI believe one of the victims was a mulatto man -\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Crispus Attucks, just there to travel to North Carolina from New Providence. Others killed, as we know, were boys of 17, and various others.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI believe Attucks was already becoming well known, the Abolitionists* of the time having made something of his situation?\u201d Ben sighed, placing his pipe carefully away on the rack with others.<\/p>\n \u201cI remember being told that -\u201d Adam replied and looked carefully through more papers to find anything else relative to the occasion that could connect the Stoddards with the infamous affair. \u201cI wonder what this had to do with the Stoddards?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cProbably nothing, they just kept it for what it is, a piece of startlingly terrible news of their home town.\u201d<\/p>\n Adam frowned, and after reading through the whole account, refolded it and returned it to the packet from where it had been taken.<\/p>\n Boston in the year 1770<\/p>\n Morgan Stoddard was thirteen years old when the events took place in King Street that were to become known as the Boston Massacre. It was March, spring was beginning to make itself felt despite the snow still on the ground, and the air remaining chill. Elinor, Morgan and Bronwyn with her son, Emrys, were strolling down King Street when they heard a youthful shout, a wigmakers apprentice called Gerrish was taunting the sentry on duty about the non-payment of his bill. The sentry ignored the taunts (he had paid the bill and put the insults down to ignorance*), no one was taking much notice for such situations occurred from time to time. Morgan and Emrys turned their heads to watch and while their mothers attended to their shopping, the boys loitered a while, hands in their pockets and grinning as boys do when sensing a little mischief. Nothing more was said or done and when Elinor and Bronwyn had ended their business they made their way home. At the corner of the street near the harbour the two women part, Morgan choosing to go with Emrys and Elinor to her home.<\/p>\n Some hours later Gerrish had returned to the scene with a group of other boys, who began to taunt and insult the soldier who reacted by striking the lad with his musket. The scene was set for the carnage that followed, young boys, innocent bystanders, mere passersby, paid the price as the soldiers fired upon the crowd. Emrys and Morgan, who had sensed trouble was brewing had taken themselves to the area a few moments earlier, had watched as the crowd grew larger and louder. The sentry, Private White* retreated to the Custom house, his back to a locked door. The mob grew thicker, louder, Emrys and Morgan was now unable to leave the place as the crowd pushed them against the wall, effectively trapping them between themselves and the wall.<\/p>\n Hugh Stoddard heard the commotion of the crowd from the deck of his ship, berthed as it was in the harbour, he watched as people began to stream from the taverns to wards the town centre,<\/p>\n \u201cSomethings happening -\u201d he said to his masters mate who shook his head and muttered dire warnings beneath his breath, and continued with his business.<\/p>\n Elinor set out the table, fresh bread on the board and golden butter in the dish that had come all the way from England. She began to get restless, Morgan was late in returning from Emrys\u2019 and opening the door to their cottage she watched as people ran past her home towards town.<\/p>\n \u201cWhats happening?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDon\u2019t know, we\u2019re off to find out -\u201d came the reply.<\/p>\n She glanced over her shoulder at the clock on the wall, surely Morgan was still at Bronwyns with Emrys, but she slipped the shawl over her head and ran with the crowd, stopping at her friends home and rapping on the door.<\/p>\n \u201cIs Morgan here?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI thought Emrys was with him, at your place -\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSomethings happening in town and -\u201d<\/p>\n Bronwyn grabbed at her shawl, there was no time for further speech, together the two women ran with the crowd towards King Street.<\/p>\n Officer of the Day, Captain Preston ordered a relief column to assist the oppressed sentry, and gathering at the custom house stairs loaded their muskets. As the crowd, estimated between 300-400, pressed about them they formed a semicircular perimeter.<\/p>\n \u201cLet\u2019s get home,\u201d Morgan whispered, grabbing at Emrys arm<\/p>\n \u201cI would if I could,\u201d Emrys replied, \u201cBut I\u2019m wedged in tight against the wall.\u201d<\/p>\n The crowd began to yell and blows were exchanged. There were cries of \u2018Fire, Fire\u2019 and then the soldiers fired into the crowd. The accompanying cries and screams, the tension in the street, the sound of running feet all reached Elinor and Bronwyn long before they had actually reached the area, causing them to turn back and hurry to their homes.<\/p>\n Within half an hour Emrys and Morgan were also home, recounting all that they had seen and heard, white faced, shaking with fear, and Morgan with his shirt stained with the blood of Mr James Caldwell, a mariner, who had died with two balls in his back. The splaying blood had splattered over the boy as he had cringed against the wall.<\/p>\n Hugh Morgan listened to his son, and in the evening walked to the tavern where men were gathering, there was a lot of drinking, talking, and hot air spoken that night, and despite the authorities removing the presence of all soldiers from the town the next day, Hugh knew that this was a prelude to more terrible times to come.<\/p>\n Philadelphia in the year 1770<\/p>\n No one mentioned the incident in Boston at Daniel Cartwright\u2019s home. The broadsheet remained on the table, had been read carefully, and then set aside. Daniel Cartwright had been home on leave for two weeks and enjoying the time with his wife and three sons, Francis, John and Henry. It was only when Jonathan Abbott was announced that Daniel\u2019s face lost his smile and Rachel sensed that something more serious than a local fracas had taken place.<\/p>\n Still tall and good looking, Jonathan Abbott entered his son in laws study and paused while Daniel closed the door behind them. He wore a sombre brown suit, a well starched white shirt and cravat, and his wig had been freshly powdered that morning. He sat down in the chair he customarily used when visiting and after a moments silence looked thoughtfully at Daniel,<\/p>\n \u201cWell, you have read the news?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, it makes grim reading.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThere\u2019s already talk in the streets that there is going to be further trouble as a result of all of this.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cFrom what I heard the soldiers were hard pressed, the crowd itself was taunting them to fire and -\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThey should have had the self control not to fire upon unarmed citizens.\u201d Jonathan\u2019s pale face flushed a ruddier hue, and his eyes darkened, \u201cIt was disgraceful.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, it was.\u201d Daniel agreed, \u201cOn all sides -\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt shows the mood of the people.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, it does.\u201d<\/p>\n They relapsed into silence, grateful when the door opened and Rachel stepped inside with a tray of hot coffee, made the way she knew her husband and father would enjoy it most. She then left the room and closed the door behind her, returning to the sitting room where her mother sat, twisting a lace trimmed handkerchief round and round between her fingers.<\/p>\n \u201cJon says there\u2019s going to be a lot of trouble over this -\u201d Tamar said, she sipped her tea, which she preferred to coffee, and she drank it in the old fashioned manner, by pouring it first into her saucer and drinking it from there.<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t think there will be, mother.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThere\u2019s talk everywhere about it, you know? Jon says that there\u2019s the smell of rebellion in the air.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo, mother, that\u2019s not possible.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo one would have thought it possible for soldiers to fire upon citizens in Boston but -\u201d she put the saucer down and reached out for her daughters hand, \u201cPeople are already talking about what side they will be taking if there is a war.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThere won\u2019t be a war.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh, daughter, I pray you are right, but your father has a nose for these kind of things, and he\u2019s never wrong.\u201d<\/p>\n Rachel shivered, she thought of her fifteen year old son, Francis, and his younger brothers, John and little Henry, only ten. If there were a war – what would happen to them?<\/p>\n Jonathan was now pacing the floor, his hands clasped behind his back,<\/p>\n \u201cGovernment saw fit to repeal the Stamp Act, thank goodness, they should have realised that was folly -\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThere was enough trouble over it to make them realise that, Jon.\u201d Daniel replied in his deep warm voice, and he poured himself more coffee.<\/p>\n \u201cThe sad fact is that George III has two men in office very willing to enforce laws and taxes upon us for their own ends. Look at the restrictions they have levied on the West Indies trade? That\u2019s affected you now, hasn\u2019t it? There are import taxes on English paper, glass and tea, and rum.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThere have been very effective boycotts, Jon -\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSome.\u201d Jon scowled, \u201cthere\u2019s talk that they\u2019ll repeal SOME of the taxes this year -\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThen be patient, wait and see what happens.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019ve already read about what will happen. What happened in Boston in March, is just the beginning.\u201d<\/p>\n Daniel bit his lip, he looked anxiously at his father in law and in the back of his mind heard once again the beat of drums, gun fire, war whoops and the anguished screams of the dead and dying. He gripped the arms of his chair and shook his head,<\/p>\n \u201cI can only pray that you won\u2019t be proven right -\u201d he said in a very low tone of voice, and a lock of dark hair curled over his brow making him look vulnerable and boyish once again.<\/p>\n Chapter 18<\/p>\n Necessary work kept Adam away from the papers concerning his family for some days, which caused him a deal of frustration. Even Hoss got a little irritated at his elder brother when he saw him drifting into a daydream when he should have been concentrating on the branding.<\/p>\n \u201cDadgum it, Adam, ain\u2019t you able to think about nothing else? Waving a branding iron about ain\u2019t making you the most safe person to be around jest now.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSorry, Hoss – I was just thinking -\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI knows what you were just thinking, I jest wish you would jest think about the job you got to handle right now, here, give me the danged thing and I\u2019ll do it myself.\u201d<\/p>\n And<\/p>\n \u201cAdam, ain\u2019t you done with that thar rope yet.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cEr – sure, Hoss, any minute now.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShucks, brother, you still got the calf attached to the other end -\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell, I was -\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cJest don\u2019t say a word, I don\u2019t want to hear – dad blamed papers, I jest wish you\u2019d never set eyes on them.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBut, Hoss, if you -\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI said, I don\u2019t want to hear, and if you start on about \u2018em agin I\u2019m gonna start singing, loudly!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou know that\u2019ll stampede the cattle -\u201d Adam replied with a smirk on his face<\/p>\n \u201cHa Ha\u201d Hoss growled as he released the calf, \u201cAnd I ain\u2019t laughing.\u201d<\/p>\n Heavy rain curtailed further work and Adam was the first to saddle up and head for home, he gave his brothers a tip of the hat as he passed them , leaving them both looking thoughtfully at him as they mounted their own horses,<\/p>\n \u201cYou can guess why he\u2019s in such a hurry to get home, can\u2019t ya?\u201d Hoss grumbled.<\/p>\n \u201cYep, I bet you a dollar to a nickel that he\u2019ll have those papers scattered all over the table again by the time we get home.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHuh, they even smell weird.\u201d<\/p>\n Joe grinned slightly and looked at his big brother thoughtfully as he turned Cochise round in the direction of home,<\/p>\n \u201cBut you\u2019d like to have letters and papers telling you more about your family, wouldn\u2019t you, Hoss? The country your Ma came from has a lot of history connected to it, and you could find out that you own most of it\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh sure, probably find that I have debts to pay off left by a long dead relative,\u201d Hoss grunted.<\/p>\n \u201cI think I\u2019d like to find out more about my Ma\u2019s family, it would help me know more about Ma, what her life was like, where she came from -\u201d Joe sighed, then shook his head and turned resolutely towards the Ponderosa.<\/p>\n Philadelphia in the year 1774<\/p>\n Francis Cartwright was twenty two years of age and returned home from Boston after several years of studying the classics at Harvard. He had sought a teaching profession in his home town and in the year 1774 returned to Boston to bring home the young woman whom he had fallen in love with, and wished to marry.<\/p>\n Ffyon Evans had a pretty face, dark eyes and hair, and was as Welsh as could be, her mother being Bronwyn Morgan and her father Edward Evans, who hailed from the Rhondda Valley and had settled in Boston in \u201954, married Bronwyn in \u201955 and had several children, Emrys Evans being one of them, and Ffyon the only daughter.<\/p>\n Six months after his marriage Francis Cartwright and his brother, John, joined the new Continental Army under the command of George Washington and was not to be seen or heard of again for the duration of the war. Such was the fate of wives, sisters and daughters \u2026 to sit, wait, endure.<\/p>\n Boston on March 17th 1776<\/p>\n So now it was over \u2026 the seige of Boston had ended after 18 months of the most miserable of times for the inhabitants, where food had become scarce, wood for heating equally so, old houses being pulled down to provide fuel. When the colonists under the command of Washington had come up against the city it had forced the inhabitants to decide whether they were loyalists or Americans, and most of them changed their minds constantly throughout the seige.<\/p>\n March 17th saw Hugh and Elinor Stoddard watching, along with many others, as British ships began to move out from Boston. There were in total 120 ships, with more than 11,000 people on board, these numbers were made up of British troops, women and children.<\/p>\n Morgan Stoddard shook hands with his friend Emrys, renewing their vows of friendship, a friendship that had suffered under the strains of divided loyalties throughout the seige. Emrys had made his decision , he was going to go with his family, and restart their lives elsewhere.<\/p>\n \u201cYou don\u2019t know where you\u2019ll be going, do you?\u201d Morgan said quietly,<\/p>\n \u201cNo, but we\u2019ll take our chances.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cEmrys, you\u2019re not Welsh now, you\u2019re a Bostonian. You should stay -\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo chance, Morgan, I\u2019m not like you, your family are Bostonians, through and through, but me and my family \u2026 we\u2019re still new generation, we don\u2019t matter.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cEvery man matters, Emrys.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAt least my sisters safe, in Philadelphia.\u201d Emrys\u2019 lips twisted into a parody of a smile, \u201cIf you ever see her again, Morgan, tell her we love her -\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cCan\u2019t you tell her yourself?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPerhaps – one day -\u201d Emrys sighed, he was Welsh enough not to be optimistic about it, he bowed his head, shook Morgans hands again between his own and turned away, quickly, so that his friend wouldn\u2019t see the tears standing in his eyes.<\/p>\n His mother, Bronwyn, was struggling with tears of her own as she bade farewell to her dearest friend, Elinor, they embraced, didn\u2019t say all the things that tumbled about in their hearts and minds, didn\u2019t remind one another of those they had loved and lost, of Owen, of Fyyon, nor of other friends who had died or moved away in the years since their friendship had first blossomed.<\/p>\n They picked up their belongings, and without turning their heads to look back on their friends, in case their resolve weakened and their feet betray them, they fell into line with all the other loyalists who were taking to the ships.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat happens now?\u201d Morgan said to his father as they made their way to the cottage, and each of them refusing to mention the hardship of losing friends in whatever manner they were lost.<\/p>\n \u201cWait and see,\u201d Hugh replied, and held his wife closely to him, \u201cAlthough, having said that, I think we all know what happens next. The coming days are going to force us into making decisions, one way or another, and perhaps, the decisions we make will shape our lives to come forever.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou mean, we may have to take arms and fight?\u201d Morgan said as he closed the door behind him.<\/p>\n \u201cYes, that\u2019s exactly what I mean.\u201d Hugh pulled out a chair and sat down heavily, as though the weight of the world was upon his shoulders, \u201cIn a way this seige was like being in limbo, most of us didn\u2019t really know what side we were going to take in this war, but now, well, we\u2019ve more or less been forced to decide, haven\u2019t we?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ll go and fight,\u201d Hugh said raising his chin defiantly.<\/p>\n \u201cOh no, Morgan, don\u2019t say so -\u201d Elinor protested, then turned away to look down at the miserable fire burning in their hearth as she remembered the number of times she had made the same plea to Hugh, and to her son, during the course of the constant discussions they had held in their house, and in the houses of numerous friends and neighbours.<\/p>\n In the end though, it had all been a case of waiting, and seeing \u2026 now the deciding was all that was left for them to do. Morgan Stoddard was now 19 years of age.<\/p>\n Valley Forge, about 20 miles n.w of Philadelphia in the year 1778*<\/p>\n Washington had chosen the valley for its obvious military advantages, it lay between a creek and a broad river, with hills high enough to survey the main supply routes from the south. At the commencement of the campaign he had approximately 11,000 men and everything appeared to go well until January when with early winter snows, the ground turned to oceans of mud. By March the columns were suffering blizzards, a third of them had typhus, smallpox or dysentery. Disease claimed numerous souls, starvation claimed many more and desertion was commonplace. Food was unattainable and the men were foraging for what they could find. His 11,000 men were reduced to a mere handful, estimated at 3000, many without adequate clothing, and all half starved.*<\/p>\n As he made his way through the snows Daniel Cartwright caught sight of the clash of scarlet between some trees and promptly threw himself down onto the ground in case the British scouting party had seen him, his men hurried into positions where they hoped they would not be seen by the enemy but could get the chance of a pot shot at them.<\/p>\n One of the advantages these men now possessed was the creation of a weapon taken from the Pennsylvania flintlock, German settlers in Pennsylvania had doubled the length of the barrel of the flintlock and grooved it to make the bullet spin and stay on line, this \u2018rifling\u2019 led to the use of the word \u2018rifle.\u2019 * Another advantage the colonists possessed that was much to their advantage was the fact that they were men who depended on shooting their food on the wing, they didn\u2019t shoot for sport, but for survival, and their ability to put a rifle ball into a man\u2019s head at a 150 or 200 yards had become legendary.*<\/p>\n Now they waited, poised, waiting for a sight of the scarlet coats once again and when they did the guns blazed. Daniel reloaded his gun carefully, his eyes scanning the area through the haze of gun smoke for a sight of others, but there was only the rippling echo of their gun shots through the trees, and the heavy breathing of his own scouting party around him.<\/p>\n They rose to their feet slowly, cautiously, no one taking it for granted that the men they had fired upon were all dead, it was quite possible for a man to have survived and seeing them discharge his musket in a desperate bid for life – or revenge.<\/p>\n There was no sound, Daniel heard the men whispering among themselves, and waited for the inevitable request that he knew would come, because it always did –<\/p>\n \u201cMr Cartwight, sir, could be they\u2019ve got good boots on their feet -\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThey won\u2019t be needing \u2018em, sir.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPermission to -\u201d<\/p>\n And then, without waiting for \u2018Permission granted\u2019 they inched their way down to where the dead lay and began their pillaging. Daniel sighed, well, even trained soldiers would do the same he thought (as he thought every time it happened), and these men were anything but trained soldiers, no matter how much Washington bullied them on the concept of \u2018duty, duty, duty before anything.\u2019<\/p>\n He made his way through the trees and paused at a sound that came from behind a tree, a soft whimper which made him think of a whipped puppy he had found once back home in Maryland. He made his way, slithering in the mud and slush, to discover a huddled over figure clutching a musket between his arms. He paused and waited, then realising that the figure was that of either a very slightly built man or an adolescent he reached out and touched his shoulder.<\/p>\n A white face turned towards him, pinched and thin, with feverishly bright eyes that blinked up at him, either because the light was too strong, even though dappled through the trees, or because he wasn\u2019t sure whether he was staring at friend or foe. It was obvious that the boy, for he could not have been older than fifteen, was half starved and Daniel felt misery and pity touch his heart, he made his way down to the lad and crouched by his side.<\/p>\n \u201cAre you hurt?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShot, mister, here -\u201d the boy pointed towards his hip, and Daniel could see then the blood seeping from the wound into the mud.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m sorry -\u201d Daniel pulled out a rag of a handkerchief and tried to find the entrance to the wound in order to staunch the blood flow, \u201cHave you been here long?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAbout half an hour, mister.\u201d<\/p>\n Daniel couldn\u2019t smile although it was comical for the boy to answer thus when Daniel had meant had the boy been in the camp for very long. From the state of him he must have been with them for some time<\/p>\n \u201cCan I go home now, mister?\u201d<\/p>\n Such a sadly whispered request, Daniel could see the light already fading from the blue eyes, and the boy was shaking with cold, so he pulled off his jacket and draped it around him, then pulled him roughly into his arms, after all, he thought, if it were one of his sons would he not wish for someone to do this last kindly act for him.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019d like to go home -\u201d the boy said softly, \u201cmum would be baking bread and my sister will be brewing tea now. Time to bring in the sheaves, and the cows will need milking.\u201d<\/p>\n Daniel frowned, at this time in the colonies such expressions weren\u2019t in common usage any more and he looked at the boy thoughtfully, doubtfully,<\/p>\n \u201cWhereabouts is home, boy?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSuffolk, but we caught the boat from Liverpool and sailed here from there.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYour father\u2019s here too?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNot now -\u201d the voice trailed away, a wistful sigh, \u201cI don\u2019t know where Dad is now,\u201d he shivered, involuntarily his teeth began to chatter, \u201cCaught the boat together though, I said I was old enough but Dad said not to lie about my age and mum will be that upset -\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019re English?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cFelixstowe in Suffolk, mister, you\u2019d like it there, next to sea it is, and the River Orwell is that grand -\u201d<\/p>\n Daniel just held him in his arms until the shivering stopped and nothing else could be heard, not a sigh, not a whisper. He sat in the freezing mud with his arms around a 15 year old boy, one of the enemy, and while he waited for the child to die he remembered a conversation he had had with Jonathan Abbott over a year earlier as they sat in the library of the Abbott house,<\/p>\n \u201cThere\u2019s no reason for war, because that is what this is becoming -\u201d he had said, and Jonathan had removed his wig and placed it on the desk, his shaven head showing evidence that he was going quite bald<\/p>\n \u201cIt will mean we\u2019ll be free of King George and his henchmen, free, Daniel, to rule ourselves.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNonsense.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDon\u2019t say \u2018nonsense\u2019 so glibly, son. Why should we be tied to the old country when all they can do is levy taxes on us and make life more difficult than it should be -\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cJonathan, we don\u2019t have to be tied to the old country, as you put it. We can distance ourselves in other ways, there doesn\u2019t have to be all this killing and fighting. It wasn\u2019t that long ago that we relied on the British soldiers to free us from the French, and the Dutch\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat was for their benefit, not ours.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cEconomically perhaps, but it suited us well enough, didn\u2019t it? Jonathan, in generations to come, our descendents will be proudly identifying themselves of Irish, Scottish, Welsh, English descent, as well as all the other nationalities that will come flooding here. Britain and the colonies will always be bound together, it will be like the dog and tail, where one leads the other will follow.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNonsense, it won\u2019t happen – it\u2019ll be a clean break.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo war brings about a clean break, especially a war like this one. Welshmen shooting at Welshmen, Scots at Scots – it\u2019s tantamount to civil war.\u201d<\/p>\n Jonathan had sighed and nodded<\/p>\n \u201cYes, in a way, I suppose it is.\u201d he shrugged slightly, \u201cBut we will have a nation that is our own, we will have our own laws, our own legislature -\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou don\u2019t seem to understand what I mean -\u201d Daniel had sighed and Jonathan had shaken his head, no, he hadn\u2019t understood, not at all.<\/p>\n Daniel looked up at the sky through the trees, and when he heard the sound of his men approaching he looked down at the boy in his arms, and then moved away from him, taking the jacket and shrugging back into it. What a miserable way to give birth to a nation, he thought, and I don\u2019t even know your name.<\/p>\n Chapter 19<\/p>\n \u201cDid you know Francis Cartwright at all, Pa?\u201d<\/p>\n Adam was lounging back comfortably on the settee, his long legs stretched out in front of him and his arms folded behind his head as he gazed up at the ceiling and watched one of his fathers smoke rings disperse among the rafters. A fire was burning cheerily in the grate and the lamps glowed warm and cosily around the room. The aroma of coffee mingled with that of the fire, and tobacco.<\/p>\n Ben puffed a spectacular smoke ring and smiled slowly although his eyes lingered back to the family bible which was on the low table along with various pieces of paper, he glanced over at Adam and then nodded<\/p>\n \u201cYes, I met him on several occasions, he was a handsome man even when elderly.\u201d he paused and frowned slightly, \u201cHaving said that he was probably younger than I am now when I first saw him. I must have been old enough to remember the occasion \u2026 perhaps five or six.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnd Daniel Cartwright – did you meet him?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo -\u201d Ben admitted with a sigh, \u201cI wish I had, he was quite a character. I mean, not just from what we\u2019ve learned about him but from what the family said, what was passed down -\u201d he lowered his head in concentration then asked Adam what was the last bit of written information about him in the papers they had left to explore.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ve checked and re-checked, but there\u2019s only the mention of his death in the bible, and a short note from your Grandfather to his mother,\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat would be Rachel – yes, that\u2019s right, I recall reading it, it was to tell them that Henry had written and was living in Nova Scotia. Now -\u201d Ben leaned forward and jabbed the stem of his pipe in Adam\u2019s direction, \u201cnothing was really known much about Henry, he was the youngest son, and apparently went off with the British when they left Philadelphia. He and several of his Ipswich cousins went off together. That reference from Francis was the only known record of what had happened to him.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnd John?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo, no one could confirm what happened to John. He and Francis went off together, they got separated at the battle of Bunkers Hill, and the only thing Francis knew was that his brother was still alive by the time the fight was on at Saratoga. The family had to presume he had died with – well – with too many others. He was quite young, I don\u2019t think Rachel ever recovered from that war, from all accounts she begged Daniel to take her to live at his old family home in Maryland. That\u2019s where they lived until they died.\u201d he puffed at his pipe for a while, and stared thoughtfully into the flames, \u201cI remember listening to the grown ups talking, I was young, sitting under the table playing with something or other -\u201d he puffed more violently at his pipe and Adam winced, waiting for a minor volcanic eruption of burning tobacco, \u201cDaniel died first, he was quite ill for some time and Francis and Ffyon – nice name, isn\u2019t it? – they went to see him, he was delirious for some days, but mostly he seemed concerned not about his missing sons, but about a boy whose name he never knew. Kept on saying to Francis \u2018You must find out his name, his mother should know that he\u2019s safe -\u2019 and then he would get distressed and seem to be chiding himself \u2018No, not safe, of course not, he\u2019s dead. That\u2019s right , dead. And I never did get to know his name.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI wonder what happened, someone he must have met during the war?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cProbably, that seemed to be the conclusion my Grandfather had come to.\u201d<\/p>\n Adam said nothing to that but picked up some papers and slowly fingered through them, he paused at one and looked over at his father<\/p>\n \u201cWas there some dispute between Grandfather and your father?\u201d<\/p>\n Ben smiled slowly and leaned back in the red leather chair, he sighed then and nodded<\/p>\n \u201cYes, you have to remember that Francis was a clever intellectual, an academic. He wanted all his sons to have a good education, preferably at Harvard, but my father was more like his mother, Ffyon. Now, she was of Welsh blood -\u201d he paused, and narrowed his eyes, \u201cI can remember her, vaguely, white haired, dark eyed, short \u2026 I remember one evening when she was with us, shortly after Grandfather had died, and she was scolding my father about something and he just picked her up, and laughed at her. There she was with her little feet dangling a good foot off the floor and both of them laughing.\u201d he smiled, dreamily, it was obviously a happy moment, a moment to treasure.<\/p>\n \u201cDid Joseph and Francis argue – have a disagreement?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, well, you can read it for yourself in that letter -\u201d Ben stabbed his pipe towards the paper in Adam\u2019s hand, \u201cYou see, you have to remember that Francis was an academic, a teacher of the classics, he wanted all his sons to follow in his footsteps.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnd Joseph wouldn\u2019t?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo, he wouldn\u2019t and he didn\u2019t. Francis wanted them all to have a good education but Joseph would have none of it. Well, you read the letter and see what it says.\u201d<\/p>\n Philadelphia in the year 1800<\/p>\n Joseph Cartwright sighed, scrawled his signature and then leaned back in his chair. He was not relieved at having written the letter, perhaps a little down at heart , and as he stared at the words worming their way across the white paper he wondered if he could have phrased anything better, or whether his feelings had been too raw, too bitter. He covered the letter hastily under a book when a light tap came to the door and his mother peeked into the room,<\/p>\n \u201cCan I come in?\u201d<\/p>\n He smiled, and stood up, pulled out a chair for her to sit upon and waited for her to do so, before resuming his own seat. She looked at him with her dark eyes anxious and round, her mouth was down turned, it was obvious she had come to try and coax him into a better mood but he firmed his heart and waited.<\/p>\n \u201cAre you still angry with your da, Joseph?\u201d<\/p>\n He loved how she talked, that Welsh accent was like music, and she often used the Welsh form of words, especially when talking to him. He nodded, and glanced anxiously at the book under which his letter was hidden.<\/p>\n \u201cHe only wants what is best for you, son.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI know that, but I don\u2018t want to do what he wants, I want to go to sea, I want to be a seaman like my Grandfather and his father before him.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI know, I told him that blood will out, but he doesn\u2019t listen, he\u2019s frightened for y ou.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe doesn\u2019t have to be, I can take care of myself.\u201d<\/p>\n She looked at him thoughtfully, in that \u2019tone of manner\u2019 that had the ability to make him realise that he had said or done something stupid, he leaned forward and took hold of her hands,<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m not a child, mother. I can manage. Remember the first time I ran away to sea?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAs if I would forget it, you were only twelve.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnd father brought me back home.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, kicking and screaming.\u201d she smiled indulgently.<\/p>\n \u201cHow many times have I left home for the sea since then?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOnce every year.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSo, I\u2019m not likely to change my mind now, am I?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cJoseph -\u201d she leaned forward now and stroked back a lock of dark hair from his brow, \u201cYou have to understand that it isn\u2019t really that long ago since your father left his family and went away from them. He had two brothers then, when he returned – he was the only one to come home.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI know that -\u201d Joseph said impatiently.<\/p>\n \u201cYes, I know that you know, but I want you to stop and think about what it must have been like for him, and for his mother and father. Stop and think, son, of how they all felt when John never came home, knowing but not knowing \u2026 and then Henry, for years wondering where he was, if he was safe.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDa won\u2019t worry about me like that, Ma, it\u2019s different -\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI wish I could make you understand,\u201d she sighed and stroked his cheek, and being his mother she saw the little boy looking back at her and had to force herself to see the man.<\/p>\n Later he took the letter and re-read it through, he knew that although it was addressed to his father, it would be his mother who would be the most distressed as a result of it. He sighed heavily as he read it, and then folded and sealed it.<\/p>\n \u201cDear Father<\/p>\n I wish you could understand why I am having to write this to you, but I really do not wish for our last evening to gether to be marred by angry words, and I do not want to leave your house with bad feeling between us.<\/p>\n I am not an academic, Father, I have no love for book learning, I want to go to sea. I want to do what my Grandfather did, and his father before him. I signed up to go on a voyage with some men, brave men, going out on an expedition.<\/p>\n I wish you and mother good health, I love you Philadelphia in the year 1800<\/p>\n The house facing the harbour was in shadow, although the window overlooking the harbour itself was illuminated, a welcoming warm orange globe of light. Towards this house the two men strode, their heads bowed against the wind.<\/p>\n Boats in the harbour bobbed up and down as though rebelling against their being tethered so securely to the bollards, further out to sea ships were heading into the harbour in order to escape the fast approaching storm.<\/p>\n As they reached the door a third man approached from a different direction and joined them, together they entered the house and closed the door with such a sharpness that the woman dropped the teapot she was holding, and it shattered on the flagstone flooring.<\/p>\n \u201cHeavens,\u201d she gasped and then turned to look at the three men crowding into the big room, a smile illuminated her face and she ran to greet them, her arms flung around the older mans neck and then around that of the youngest, the one who had come in last received a warm pinch on the cheek, \u201cYou startled me coming in like that – I didn\u2019t even realise you had berthed.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWe berthed just an hour ago, came home as fast as we could.\u201d Morgan Stoddard muttered, \u201cBrew us some tea, Elspeth, we\u2019re thirsty men.\u201d Morgan turned to the last man to enter, \u201cHow are you, Douglas?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell enough, father.\u201d Douglas Stoddard replied and shook his fathers hand, then reached out and ruffled his brothers hair.<\/p>\n It looked odd, Abel Morgan Stoddard was a well built young man with thick hair and already sprouting a beard for he was all of 18 years of age now, but Douglas Hugh Stoddard was slight of build, short and stringy, although no one in the family could recall a Stoddard with such a meagre build. Abel laughed and beat his brother\u2019s arm aside, asking him if he had asked Peggy to wed him yet to which Douglas laughed, winked and said nothing but pulled up a chair and sat down.<\/p>\n \u201cWas the trip good?\u201d he asked, looking from his father to his brother.<\/p>\n \u201cWe made enough money to pay for the repairs to our own ship.\u201d Morgan said, and then he sighed, walked over to his pipe rack and took out his favourite, he filled the bowl with some tobacco and lit a taper.<\/p>\n \u201cBlood money -\u201d Abel muttered.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat\u2019s that?\u201d Elspeth turned, frowned and then looked at her husband, \u201cWhat does Abel mean? What did he say?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe said what it was – blood money – glad to hand it over to Peterson to pay for the repairs. Never want to undertake a voyage like that again, never.\u201d replied her husband and he tossed the taper into the fire, \u201cI don\u2019t think I\u2019ll ever forget it.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat happened? Storms at sea?\u201d Douglas asked, picking up a spoon and toying idly with it as he looked from one to the other of the men.<\/p>\n \u201cDid you – did you lose some of the crew?\u201d Elspeth asked.<\/p>\n \u201cId have liked to have thrown some of them overboard,\u201d Abel retorted, and his eyes rolled as though the anger inside himself had to have some way of being released.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat was wrong?\u201d<\/p>\n There was a silence for a moment and then Morgan shrugged, lowered his pipe and shook his head,<\/p>\n \u201cPlenty of ships are doing it, but not for us, never again. Never.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat is it? Why don\u2019t you tell us?\u201d Douglas insisted.<\/p>\n \u201cWe took our cargo to the West Indies, as agreed.\u201d Morgan pulled out a chair and sat down, \u201cAs is usual we took on fresh cargo, to bring to Carolina. We knew what we were doing, we\u2019d agreed to it, signed the papers, even you could say, taken the money, but – \u201c<\/p>\n \u201cFor heavens sake, what?\u201d Douglas groaned in impatience.<\/p>\n \u201cIt was a slaver.\u201d Abel replied shortly, \u201cWe knew when we took her over that when the cargo was removed, the new cargo would be slaves. It\u2019s just that when you\u2019re doing it yourself -\u201d he paused, \u201cI mean, others do it all the time, but seeing it on board the ship you\u2019re sailing on, with them on the voyage all that way, then you get to know why no decent man should do it.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo decent man should want to do it.\u201d Morgan nodded as in agreement with Abel. \u201cI don\u2019t want to talk furthermore about it, it\u2019s bad enough knowing and seeing what we saw.\u201d<\/p>\n Abel glanced over at Douglas who had just opened his mouth, but decided better of it, and closed it again. Not for the first time did Douglas Stoddard and his mother thank God that he had not chosen to go to sea but had taken a \u2019safe\u2019 job in the customs department as a clerk.<\/p>\n It was late at night when Elspeth awoke to find her husbands side of the bed cold and empty. She rose and crept downstairs, to find him seated by the dying embers of the fire, his head in his hand and his eyes fixed upon the fire. Quietly she approached him, knelt at his side and placed her head upon his knee, just as they would sit together when first wed, and instinctively he stroked her hair, and reached out for her hand.<\/p>\n \u201cWas it so bad?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWorse than I could ever have imagined in every sense of the word.\u201d he replied, and she could tell from the smell of him that he had been drinking whisky, something he did only when truly distressed. \u201cElspeth, I made Abel swear on the bible never, ever, to take out a ship for the use of the slave trade. Oh, they pay good money alright, but when it comes to it, its money in exchange for human beings, it isn\u2019t right, and I would cut off my right arm never to have gone on that voyage, nor to have taken Abel with me.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBut they\u2019re only slaves, Morgan. They -\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDon\u2019t, Elspeth, don\u2019t say no more about it.\u201d he put his fingers to her lips, and shook his head in warning, then he turned away to look at the fire, \u201cWas a time they preached that slaves had no souls, they were like the animals, that made folk think it was alright to treat them the same way, if the men in the pulpit said so; but then -\u201d he pressed his fingers against his eyes, \u201cElspeth, I wish I could forget the sights I seen, the things I heard on that ship. It was like the voyage of the damned. The stench, the agony -\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDon\u2019t, Morgan, say no more about it now -\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou don\u2019t know, woman, you don\u2019t know the half of it.\u201d he said and stroked her head again, very gently, very tenderly.<\/p>\n He remembered the women and children cast into the sea, deemed unworthy to keep as good cargo, perhaps dead already, perhaps not, but too weak and emaciated to be of further use. The slaver had decreed that they be thrown overboard. Abel had stepped forward to protest the first time and got a taste of the stick as a result. There were the times the slaves were brought up on deck, their chains rattling, dazed and bewildered, stumbling about in the sudden light, frightened, children crying, once bold men reduced to cringing whimpering humanity. They had been sluiced down with water to remove the excrement and the stench of their bodies, refused the dignity of clothing, then sent down below decks again. Horrible, it was all horrible.<\/p>\n The dead and dying had been released from their chains, cast overboard, and the living had probably envied them that freedom as they were hurried back down into the hold. The majority, coming from different tribes, lacked even the comfort of conversation between peoples of the same background. There was nothing to afford them relief, dignity, respect.<\/p>\n It changed something in Morgan Stoddard. He became a staunch abolitionist, his son Abel constantly at his side, and most nights they sought the solace of more than just a dram or two.<\/p>\n Chapter 20<\/p>\n The grandfather clock grumbled the hour, and Adam began to gather in the papers. He paused at one, a marriage certificate between Abel Stoddard and Ann Sinclair.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat do you know about Abel, Pa? Did you ever meet his wife?\u201d<\/p>\n Ben rubbed his chin thoughtfully, glanced over at the clock, not because he hadn\u2019t heard the hour strike but because when shadows crept long in the big room and the \u2018boys\u2019 were not yet home he just needed to reassure himself as to exactly the time, knowing then that perhaps he still had time not to become too anxious about them.<\/p>\n \u201cAbel? Well, he was a stickler for doing things right. Some crew members thought he was over strict, and over righteous, but he wasn\u2019t really, he just liked the security of discipline. He taught me a lot.\u201d Ben smiled slowly, and then pursed his lips as though in contemplation, staring into the shadows as though groping for memories.<\/p>\n \u201cAnd his wife?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh, no – I never met Ann. I heard a lot about her though, Abel talked often about his wife, and so did Elizabeth.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnd does the doll have any significance?\u201d Adam picked up the doll, still wrapped in its silken shawl, and handed it to Ben when his father reached out his hand for it.<\/p>\n A slight frown furrowed his fathers brow as he slowly unwrapped the doll, and then he stared at it, sighed and pulled the silken material once again around it before handing it back,<\/p>\n \u201cYes, there is a story about the doll.\u201d he passed a hand across his mouth and rubbed his jaw, his dark eyes half hooded by heavy eyelids, \u201cYes, I remember Abel mentioning it, oh, it was along time ago now, a long time.\u201d<\/p>\n Boston in the year 1814<\/p>\n The sun was high in the heavens and shone brightly down upon the harbour, and bathed the walls of the houses in gold. Long streams of sunlight patterned the floor of the bedroom where a woman struggled to give birth to her baby, the two people in the room anxiously monitoring her progress while downstairs a ruddy faced man held his little daughter in his arms and rocked back and forth in the rocking chair in front of the empty hearth.<\/p>\n Abel Stoddard listened for the sounds above him that would tell him whether or not he had a new son, or daughter, his heart was beating so fast that his daughter could hear it thudding beneath her ear as she lay her head against his chest. Whenever she raised her head he would whisper \u2018shush, shush\u2019 as though she had made too loud a noise and disturbed his concentration, and then he would stroke her hair and pat her back in an absent minded manner. She didn\u2019t mind that, she just loved to be with him in the old rocking chair, and she felt safe and protected from any harm when his arms were around her. She could smell the tobacco from the old pipe he would smoke, the salt and sea in his clothes, sweat and all the other smells that mingled together meant her safe haven, her father.<\/p>\n She wasn\u2019t sure why they were downstairs and Ma was upstairs with the doctor and Mrs Kay, but if it meant a little more time alone with father, that must be a good thing. She snuggled closer and tried to keep her eyes wide open so that when whatever was supposed to happen, happened, she would know, and then father would give her a present. Not really A present, but THE present. He had told her weeks before that if she were a good girl, and she always was, then when something special happened soon, she would have her very own special present, something he had bought for her all the way from Germany.<\/p>\n As she was only two years and a little bit old, Germany meant nothing at all to her, it could have been something from the shop just around the corner for all she knew, but father had been very definite about it, and every so often since that day he had taken her in his arms and said Elizabeth Ann Stoddard fell asleep in her fathers arms and so deeply that when the doctor called for him, he just lifted her up and put her in a shawl and left her on the bench seat. The sun was warm and shone down upon her, she looked like a doll with her black hair and white skin, dimples in her cheeks, chubby dimpled hands clasped beneath her chin and long lashes forming dark crescents of shadow upon her cheeks.<\/p>\n When Abel went into the bedroom his wife, Ann, lay pale and haggard upon the bed, her hair was wet and in strands upon the pillows that supported her head, her gown was clinging to her body like a second skin. There was blood on the bedding and Dr Hunnisett was busy in looking at something in a bowl while Mrs Kay was bundling something else in a cloth. He looked at the woman who lowered her head and turned away from him.<\/p>\n \u201cAbel -\u201d<\/p>\n Ann\u2019s voice, weak but soft to his ear, he hurried to her side, knelt beside the bed and held her hand in his own, he kissed her fingers tenderly,<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s alright, Ann, my love, it\u2019s alright.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m so sorry.\u201d she whispered, \u201cI\u2019m so sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHush,\u201d he placed a finger on her lips as though to forbid her to speak any more, and she kissed it, looked deep into his eyes as though to make sure that he understood her misery, and to assure him that she understood his, before she turned away and fell into a deep sleep, exhausted and beyond comprehending the cruelty of having another life taken from her.<\/p>\n Hunnisett approached the kneeling man and placed a firm hand on his shoulder,<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m sorry, Abel, the child wasn\u2019t strong enough, the labour was too prolonged -\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cCouldn\u2019t you have done something for them?\u201d<\/p>\n Hunnisett said nothing, he turned away. Certainly if he had had the equipment he would have attempted a ceasarean birth, but he had only ever performed that operation once and then in hospital conditions. He could have told Abel that had he tried then perhaps Ann as well as the infant would have died, whereas at least Ann was alive \u2026 just about. He sighed and returned to the examination of the placenta, if it was not complete then there was a danger of Ann haemorrhaging and in her weakened state he couldn\u2019t guarantee her life then.<\/p>\n Abel leaned down and kissed his wife on the brow before walking over to Mrs Kay,<\/p>\n \u201cMay I ?\u201d he indicated the little bundle she had placed in a wicker basket, and when she nodded he just flicked over the corner of the blanket to reveal a perfectly shaped handsome baby with black downy hair and little eyelashes \u201cA boy?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Abel, I am sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n His adams apple jerked convulsively, a son, and this was the third son that Ann had given birth to who was born sleeping, the first, their very first baby, had arrived prematurely and died within days of his birth, the other was born the year before Elizabeth\u2019s arrival, already dead, like this wee one. He looked again at the little face and the flicked the blanket back over his face. He left the room, for he knew he would only be in their way, Ann would sleep and wake up needing him, but until then he would grieve alone. He went into the room he used as a study, and it was then his eyes fell upon the box on the shelf.<\/p>\n He lifted it down and looked at it, opened the lid and gazed down at the little doll he had bought for his daughter. This was going to be her baby to care for while her mother cared for the baby, but not now \u2026 he shook his head and after wrapping the doll in a silk shawl that had come all the way from China, he placed it carefully in a trunk where he placed other treasures, and where \u2018secret\u2019 things had been kept for many generations.<\/p>\n He didn\u2019t know that a long time ago, nearly two hundred years in fact, one of his ancestors had brought the trunk all the way from Scotland to this territory, and that over the years, as generations had come and gone, there had been some clue, something of themselves, placed carefully within its confines. When he was a child his father would say \u2018Don\u2019t touch, don\u2019t pry\u2019, whenever he had approached the trunk, so he didn\u2019t, he just added to the secrets, and the doll was going to be one of them.<\/p>\n When Elizabeth opened her eyes it was the morning of the following day. She had slept long and deeply, thanks to a draught of laudanum in her milk, there was soft rain pattering on the windows of her room, and the sun had gone away.<\/p>\n Pennsylvania in the year 1814<\/p>\n John, Sarah, Benjamin, Martha and Francis Cartwright stood silently in a row as their father stood in front of them, very tall and very stern. Mother stood by the door, a shawl wrapped around her shoulders, a large carpet bag tied with a leather strap at her feet.<\/p>\n For two whole days there had been so much too-ing and fro-ing that the children were constantly being shuffled off to one room and then another, and another. Things were disappearing from the rooms, some were never to be seen again, others reappeared on a wagon now standing outside in the street.<\/p>\n Benjamin Cartwright was seven years old, tall for his age, dark eyed and, as his father would say whenever he looked at the boy, a \u2018real Cartwright\u2019, not that that meant anything to Benjamin. He was high spirited, always the one coming home dirtier than when he left, with grazed knees or barked shins; of the three boys Benjamin was the one thirsty for adventure, the one who would get lost, and insist he hadn\u2019t been because he knew exactly where he was; if any of the Cartwright children was in trouble it was always Benjamin.<\/p>\n \u201cWhy are you always in trouble, son?\u201d Joseph asked him on quite a regular basis<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t know, Pa, I don\u2019t mean to be, but I think trouble just waits for me and then pounces out and gets a-hold.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPerhaps this will help you to think in future to make sure it doesn\u2019t ..\u201d and then he would take his medicine staunchly and go to his bed where he would cry on his own, without the humiliation of his brothers and sisters seeing him.<\/p>\n \u201cWhere we going, Pa?\u201d<\/p>\n Joseph paused and turned, of course it had to be Benjamin who asked, the others would have been waiting for him to do so.<\/p>\n \u201cWe\u2019re going to start a new life, Benjamin.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhy? What\u2019s wrong with this one?\u201d<\/p>\n Joseph sighed, what indeed? How could he explain such things as family disagreements, legal ambiguities, leaseholds and such to children? He now took his stance in front of them, his hands behind his back and his eyes solemn as he looked down at them,<\/p>\n \u201cWell, you know I\u2019m a seaman -\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSure, Pa, we know that,\u201d said John, nearly 18 months older than Sarah, who was a year older than Benjamin.<\/p>\n \u201cSome years ago I had to sell my ownership of the \u2018Welsh Maid\u2019, your Uncle Aaron took it on instead.\u201d<\/p>\n They didn\u2019t understand, he was confronted by five pairs of confused eyes.<\/p>\n \u201cIt means I don\u2019t have a ship of my own anymore.\u201d he frowned and squatted down to their level, \u201cIt\u2019s as though someone had taken one of y our toys from you, he lets you play with it now and again, but it isn\u2019t yours anymore, you can only play with it when he says you can.\u201d he looked at them, they nodded, even Francis understood.<\/p>\n \u201cUncle Aaron\u2019s a bad man then,\u201d Benjamin said solemnly.<\/p>\n \u201cHe\u2019s not a bad man, Benjamin, he\u2019s still my brother, and your Uncle, don\u2019t forget that\u2026\u201d Joseph glanced over at Maggie, his wife, and exchanged a swift glance between them, she turned her head away, and Benjamin, sharp eyed as ever, noticed it and knew that as far as Mother was concerned Uncle Aaron was a bad man. He resolved there and then that he would not call Aaron Cartwright Uncle ever again.<\/p>\n The children followed their parents from the house that had been their home since each one of them could remember. They were placed carefully in a wagon behind their parents, surrounded by packages and parcels, valises, and trunks, and behind that wagon came another, driven by one of Uncle Jonathan\u2019s slaves, a friendly man known as Toby. Upon that wagon was heaped furniture, mattresses, mirrors all tied down securely by ropes.<\/p>\n Friends and neighbours came to wave them farewell. There was no sign of Aaron or Jonathan with their wives and children, but then Joseph and Margaret Cartwright hadn\u2019t expected them to be there, not now.<\/p>\n As they left their home Josephs mind wandered back over the years that had followed his leaving his father\u2019s home. He returned a prosperous man, and a popular man. He had joined various expeditions, learned his trade as a seaman, and had gained a wife, two children and a ship of his own, the \u2018Welsh Maid\u2019, named in honour of his mother. It had come as a shock to him that his father had been so bitter and angry, the hurt the older man had felt having his orders disobeyed by his youngest son had gone deep, and bitterness had rankled deep in his heart. When he saw his son\u2019s prosperity he had felt no compunction when announcing to Joseph that he was \u2018on his own\u2019, that there was nothing there for him, no handouts from the Cartwright coffers.<\/p>\n Joseph had laughed it off, what did it matter, he had enough to live on, he owned a ship, owned his own property, there was no reason why he should need \u2018handouts\u2019.<\/p>\n His older brothers closed ranks with their father, friendly and warm hearted men though they were, they were prejudiced against this young man who had so blithely broken his parent\u2019s hearts and then just as blithely returned to the fold, complete with wife and family.<\/p>\n Time passed, pressure was put on Joseph to engage in the trafficking of slaves, good cargo brought from the Africas in exchange for tobacco and other luxury goods in London. He refused, time and again he refused. He had to mortgage the house, eventually he had to mortgage the ship. When he asked for help from his family he received it, except that the mortgages were redeemed and paid for in Aaron\u2019s name.<\/p>\n The arguments created a bitter feud between the brothers, Jonathan tried to act as intermediary coming to see Joseph with his family, so that the children played together amicably in the yard while the adults argued heatedly in the house. Eventually he conceded to Aaron\u2019s stronger position, and stood back while Joseph and Margaret packed up their home, and left all they had known behind them.<\/p>\n \u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026.<\/p>\n Adam placed the last piece of paper down on the pile and looked over at his father,<\/p>\n \u201cSo your father took a strong stand against slavery, and that was the cause of the feud in the family?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNot the slavery issue as such, just the fact that Aaron took what my father felt was rightfully his, and left them in a very poor situation.\u201d Ben frowned, \u201cThat\u2019s when we came to Boston. We lived in a poor kind of house compared to the one we had left behind, but it soon became home. Children don\u2019t much notice their surroundings when there\u2019s plenty of love shown them.\u201d<\/p>\n Adam said nothing to that, remembering his own \u2019surroundings\u2019 as a child, and the lack of a mother\u2019s love that was to be found in them. He looked again at the paper he had put on the pile and then glanced once more at Ben,<\/p>\n \u201cThis letter from Grandfather Francis was quite conciliatory \u2026\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMore Grandmother Ffyon\u2019s doing I should imagine, she loved her youngest boy very much and it caused her a lot of distress when we all left Philadelphia. When she came to see us in Boston and saw how happy we were, and that father had another ship, she seemed more reconciled. That\u2019s when I recall seeing her most, on her visits there.\u201d Ben sighed deeply and reclined further into the back of the chair, \u201cYou know, Adam, if we hadn\u2019t moved to Boston, in all likelihood I would never have got to serve under Abel Stoddard, nor have met your mother.\u201d<\/p>\n They said nothing for a while, there was only the sound of the clock ticking, the papers rustling as Adam tidied them away. Ben turned his eyes towards his son and watched what he was doing,<\/p>\n \u201cHave we come to the end of the journey then, son?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI guess so, Pa.\u201d Adam smiled slowly, although his eyes had a dreamy even a sad look about them, \u201cI still feel that it has left me with more questions than answers.\u201d he rose to his feet and looked down at the bible and papers that he held in his hands, \u201cI have a list of dates, names, certain facts that I can speculate about, but I don\u2018t know them, I don\u2019t know what they looked like, nor why they made the decisions they chose to make, or -\u201d<\/p>\n Ben raised a hand, he shook his head, and smiled,<\/p>\n \u201cAdam, that\u2019s life, that\u2019s how it is, and perhaps, in some things, perhaps it\u2019s wiser not to know all the answers.\u201d he glanced over at the clock as there came the sound of horses galloping into the yard and he smiled again, his eyes twinkling, \u201cAn hour late \u2026 wait until those two get in here, I tell you, they had better give me some good answers to the questions I\u2019m going to be levelling at them.\u201d<\/p>\n Adam smiled knowing his father well enough to accept that as far as the \u2018journey\u2019 they had shared together was concerned, the subject was now closed. He placed everything back in the trunk, and closed the lid. He put the family bible down on the bureau where Ben preferred it to be, but he paused a while, his hand hovered over the leatherwork on the front cover, a wistful look drifted over his face and with a sigh he turned towards the door as his two brothers made a noisy and joyful return home.<\/p>\n For him, the journey would never be over \u2026<\/p>\n WILLIAM AND MARGARET STODDARD ABEL ELIZABETH JAMIE MAGNUS TULLOCH SIOBHAN ABEL SHEELAGH WILLIAM HAMISH MARY MORAG HUGH ELIZABETH MORGAN DOUGLAS ABEL MORGAN b ELIZABETH ANNE 1812 FRANCIS AND ANN CARTWRIGHT BENJAMIN SARAH 1646<\/p>\n JANE JESSICA JOSEPH FRANCIS JOHN HENRY <\/p>\n
\nYour sister, Ruth.\u201d<\/p>\n
\nJack Huggins – Captain of the \u2018Hesperus\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n
\nWilliam Stoddard.\u201d<\/p>\n
\nMartha Cartwright born March 1632 died January 1633
\nSaul Cartwright born May 1633 died July 1634<\/p>\n
\nWilliam Stoddards voice was soft, his accent a soft burr for he was not an Aberdonian by birth and didn\u2019t speak the Doric, hailing as he did from Edinburgh, not that anyone there held that against him, he had proven his worth over the years.<\/p>\n
\n\u2018Aye, that\u2019s the way of it,\u201d old Magnie Hamilton nodded, \u201cThreats – they\u2019ll be coming with their cudgels and firebrands, mark my words.\u201d<\/p>\n
\nFareweel, fareweel my native hame,
\nThy lonely glens an’ heath-clad mountains,
\nFareweel thy fields o’ storied fame,
\nThy leafy shaws an’ sparkling fountains,
\nNae mair I’ll climb the Pentland’s steep,
\nNor wander by the Esk’s clear river,
\nI seek a hame far o’er the deep,
\nMy native land, fareweel forever.
\nThou land wi’ love and freedom crown’d,
\nIn ilk wee cot an’ lordly dwellin’,
\nMay manly hearted youths be found,
\nAnd maids in ev’ry grace excellin’.
\nThe land where Bruce and Wallace wight,
\nFor freedom fought in days o’ danger,
\nNever crouch’d to proud usurpin’ right.
\nBut foremost stood, wrongs stern avenger.<\/p>\n
\nAn’ toss’d on life’s tempestuous ocean;
\nMy heart, aye Scottish to the core,
\nShall cling to thee wi’ warm devotion,
\nAn’ while the wavin’ heather grows,
\nAn’ onward rows the windin’ river,
\nThe toast be Scotland’s broomy knowes,
\nHer mountains, rocks, an’ glens forever.<\/p>\n
\nHer mind was on the latest altercation she had had with her father, James Laurence and her mother. Why, she asked herself, was there this constant pressure on her to marry? Why did women have to marry and have children? Who said that a woman couldn\u2019t have a business to administer, and what right did a man have to, upon marriage, take over his wife\u2019s assets. She scowled slightly and wondered just what her assets would amount to anyway, life, she felt, was very unfairly balanced.<\/p>\n
\nShe said nothing, but bowed her head and stepped back from his side,<\/p>\n
\nWe are now living in quarters here, in Pennsylvania, and how quaint it all is here, and how different from home.<\/p>\n
\nPennslyvania 1711
\nCharles, Jessica, Jonathan and James\u2019<\/p>\n
\nPerhaps, who knew, this child would become a wonderful musician like her husband had been, he would create music that would make people weep as well.<\/p>\n
\nHugh shook his head, he hadn\u2019t thought about Elinor Morris since her father had chased him down the alley behind her house after finding him throwing pebbles up at the window, unfortunately for him, the wrong window.<\/p>\n
\nChapter 15<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI saw you coming, I was at the window, I saw you \u2026 oh Daniel, Daniel \u2026\u201d more tears, quite a few of them trickling down his own face as he held her tightly in his arms, \u201cI knew it was you, my love, my darling.\u201d<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWhat about you two?\u201d<\/p>\n
\nYour son – Joseph.\u201d<\/p>\n
\n\u2018Not much longer now, my poppet.\u201d and then he would wink and she knew that meant soon she would have the special present.<\/p>\n
\nOrigins : Aberdeenshire, Scotland<\/p>\n
\nb.1627 b.1630 b.1632 b.1633 b. 1640
\nl
\nm. Rhiannan McManus 1647
\nl
\nDAVID JESSIE ABIGAIL
\nb.1649 b.1652 b.1653
\nl
\nm. Morag Sutherland 1670<\/p>\n
\nb.1672 b.1675 b.1677
\nM Una Cameron 1702<\/p>\n
\nB 1703 b. 1705 b.1707 b.1710
\nM Isabel Murray<\/p>\n
\nB 1733 b 1736
\nM Elinor Morris 1756<\/p>\n
\nB 1757
\nM Elspeth Hamilton 1778<\/p>\n
\nB 1780 B 1782
\nM . Anne Sinclair 1805<\/p>\n
\nM Ben Cartwright 1829
\nB. Adam Cartwright 1830<\/p>\n
\nOrigins: Grimsby, Lincolnshire, England<\/p>\n
\nb. 1627 b.1635<\/p>\n
\nB 1647 b 1650 b 1652
\nM. Nathaniel Laurence 1663 m Molly Taylor 1672
\nDANIEL & DAVID
\nJAMES MARY M Carolyn Lane 1702
\nB 1665 b 1677
\nm. Ann Goudie 1685 JACK HENRY
\nl 1705 B.17O8
\nJESSICA M. Beatrice Weiss 1735
\nB. 1685
\nM. Charles Abbott 1703 * DANIEL
\nJONATHAN JAMES B 1736
\nB. 1705 B 1710
\nM. Tamar Sutton 1733
\nRACHEL JOANNA PHYLLIS
\nB 1735 b 1740 b 1742
\nM. Daniel Cartwright 1754*<\/p>\n
\nB 1755 B 1757 B 1760
\nM. Ffyon Evans 1777
\nJOHN AARON JOSEPH
\nB 1780 b.1782 b. 1784
\nM. Margaret Lansdale 1804
\nJOHN Sarah BENJAMIN Martha FRANCIS
\nB. 1806 B. 1808 B. 1810
\nM. Elizabeth Stoddard 1829<\/p>\n