Copyright 2012 Camille Leone This story is a work of fiction.

All names, characters, places and incidents are invented by the author or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any similarity to actual persons or events is purely coincidental.

All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in form or by any means without the prior written consent of the author.

Chapter One

Hed come to tell her the fever was spreading like a brush fire, jumping from one plantation to the next. He needed to let her know it was time for them to flee, and that most of the other landowners were hoping to withstand the slave rebellion in town. All Lewis Owen now possessed were his water canteen, two rifles, a mare and a saddle. But hed escaped his childhood home with his life, and hed come for her. To save her, the courageous woman whod managed the Woodruff farm since the tragic deaths of her husband and step daughter. Abigail Woodruff was such a genteel woman she still insisted on serving him tea, even though this was not the time for small talk and socializing. Because the fever was almost upon them. The Woodruff parlour was sparse with furniture, the wallpaper slowly peeling, reminiscent of bark off a long dead tree. There was a grandfather clock that could no longer be wound, frozen in the same hour without notice or care. Even the settee and chairs were in disrepair, their upholstery worn, with wooden frames buckling and fragile with age. Fresh scratches lined the arms, as Abigail sat across from him alternating between humming and raking her nails into the same path. At least Abigails only child was not there to see her fall from grace. Cordelia was married and soon to be sailing off to the Far East, leaving a month prior. Hed sent a telegram to San Francisco, but there was no telling if shed get it before taking off. Even so, the girl and her missionary husband would never make it back in time to talk sense into her mother. So Lewis Owen convinced himself he owed it to Abigails daughter to make certain her mother survived this hellish night. Ive got my horse out back and a couple of rifles. Lewis placed his cup down, noticing a large crack in the saucer. The time for small talk was over. Hed have to risk shocking her delicate sensibilities. I think if we make it into town most of the men should be able to hold them off until the militia gets here. Were perfectly safe, Abigail said, noticeably peeved at his rudeness. Food was scare and he hadnt finished all his drink.

Miz Woodruff, Abigail . . . your daughter would want you safe, he pleaded, hoping shed listen to reason. I caint leave you here at the mercy of these niggrahs. Oh they wont hurt us. My slaves wont let them. Amanda says- Amanda? The slave Amanda? Why yes, Amanda takes care of all matters having to do with the slaves. The pinched frown she gave him marred her beauty, and did nothing to reassure him. There was more urgency than fright in his voice, since he could no longer disguise how little time they had left. Miss Woodruff, the slaves are all in this together. And that crazy niggrah of yours is gonna get you killed. Caint you see my farm burning in the distance? Theyre making their way over to your place. We got to leave right now. With her face so tightly drawn, he realized how much older she was now. But he could still see traces of the handsome woman she once was, especially the first time shed been introduced as Jonas Woodruffs new wife. Lewis leaned forward, hoping to take her hand. They could slip out the back and from there theyd make their way out to the stable where his horse awaited. At least that was h is quickly formulating plan. But a slave woman stood in the doorway, angry that hed even been let in the house. Amanda wore gingham and silk, not the sack cloth of the others. She swept into the room as if she were the mistress of the manor, her voice curt and dark eyes blazing. I think its time you left now Massa Owen, like Miz Abigail says, well be fine. I-I told him Amanda, just like you said I should, Abigail whined as the slave came towards her, standing behind her chair. Please dont be mad at me. Im not mad at you Abigail. Amanda placed a protective arm around her shoulders. She then addressed Lewis as if directing white folks was something she did every day, all day. You got to leave Massa Owen. Youre the one in danger, not us. By God, they were both mad. Lewis stood up as if he were taking her advice. He pulled his vest down gruffly, mumbling about this not being right, then shot the slave squarely between the eyes with a pistol hed plucked from the waist of his trousers. It all happened so quickly, Abigail didnt realize shed witnessed a murder until she shook Amanda, trying to get her to respond. Owen yanked Abigail by the arm, forcing the woman from the barren room against her wailing protests. A number of slaves ran in screaming over the sound of gun fire so close, and Owen pointed his pistol at them, warning theyd

suffer the same consequence. He had a time getting her down the back steps, since planks were missing and he almost tumbled off his feet. Once outside he could see torches and hulking forms in the darkness. Yes, the fever was almost upon them. Abigails legs buckled and she hit the ground weeping, only to have him drag her like a sack of grain to the stable. He left her in a crumpled heap inside the door, figuring he could untie his horse while she was still in shock. Lewis turned around to lift her to the saddle, but his chest caved in, sending him flying backwards into his startled horse. With eyes bulging at the sudden gush of blood, it took seconds to realize there was a pitch fork stabbed through his torso, wielded by Abigail. So the fever had already taken her. With an unsteady hand he fired blindly, hoping to at least spare her from the slave uprising. The last thing Lewis Owen saw was Abigails ghostly form inching away from him and being swallowed whole by the dark mob. The chanting of the slaves grew, cheering while they lifted the body of Abigail high above their heads, as if she were their fallen queen.

Chapter Two

I have never seen so much nothingness. Water and sky each day, the strained shouts and calls above the deck and below, the sound of men working frantically to hoist sails in lieu of steam as I pass the time counting the different creatures of the ocean and sea. Creatures who would escort us through their domain, such as the porpoise, the leaping fish and the hungry shark, whilst gulls cry overhead, landing on either of the billowing masts as we round the coast. From the Pacific Ocean to the South Seas were swept up in a tempest, as I pray for gods mercy while I hide below. I hear commands and actions, I learn that the hatches must be battened down, and life lines cannot save those gone overboard. I am torn with fear over the choppy waters and blistering rain, delirious in my dread of a watery grave. But in the lull, trapped somewhere between twilight and the next storm, the skies shine with colors so fetching it makes me want to weep. The water caps are shimmering pearls . . . and it all makes sense. If one were to die, this would be the perfect hour, the perfect place, the closest heaven for a slave to be free. -Rachel Woodruff, 1861 A Colored Maidens Voyage and Recollections of Japan

hank God for Rachel. If not for her clear head under these most trying times, hed have a hysterical bride on his hands for the entire voyage. Zachary Bice stood outside the door to his cabin, listening to his wifes muffled sobs and the servant Rachels low, comforting voice. Perhaps the extra bottle of laudanum hed purchased from the ships surgeon wouldnt be needed. Rachel, Ive got the medicine- In response to his statement Rachel cracked the door open, peering out at him as though he were a stranger. You can just leave it outside the door Mister Zachary. He tried looking over her head to see if Cordelia needed anything, but Rachel cut his vision by half, stepping out and shutting the door behind her. Her resemblance to his wife was startling. Hows Cordelia? he asked, mustering a smile. Shes better now sir. Much better. Shell be just fine after I get her settled in for the night. May I see her? There was longing in his eyes, even as water dripped from his thick sideburns and ran along his jaw. Here was a good and true husband, one deserving of more from a wife than her sister, Rachel thought. The anguish in his voice almost convinced her to do his bidding. But it was too dangerous. Its . . . too soon. Perhaps tomorrow, when the storms passed, Rachel said, sounding out of breath. Miss Cordelias still feeling poorly, after hearing how her mama was killed. Shes not ready to receive anyone just yet. Zachary nodded. Should you need me, please have the ships steward get me straight away. I will sir. Leaning against the door, exhausted but hardly relieved, Rachel closed her eyes, nostrils flaring as she sought to take in more air. If she could only wake from this nightmare, if when she opened her eyes Cordelia had taken the truth of their very existence in the spirit with which it was given! But she hadnt. As Rachel sighed, entering the room and turning the skeleton key in the lock, she shook out her left hand, the one Cordelia had bitten during their struggle. It had taken all her strength to stuff Cordelias mouth in order to muffle her screams. Now as Rachel slowly met her sisters stare, the full extent of what shed done greeted her.

Cordelia sat on a cot, bound by the hands, mouth and ankles. Her accusing eyes burned through Rachel. I never wanted it to come to this, you must believe me, Rachel whispered. Angry tears welled in Cordelias eyes as she sought to scoot to her feet , toppling and almost falling flat. Rachel caught her by the waist, though Cordelia yanked and knocked Rachel with her body the whole time. Cordelia, please calm yourself. I will not release you until you do, Rachel said, keeping her voice low, hoping she manifested a composure she didnt feel. In her stubbornness Cordelia slumped to the floor. Rachel granted her this victory, knowing the damp wood would have her back in bed soon enough. When the sobbing grew softer, Rachel dared to speak again. Please believe me. Had I known you would react so violently to the idea of our sisterhood, I would never have broached the subject. But with our mothers death- Cordelias head jerked, her eyes simmering as if daring Rachel to continue. I can only imagine how shocking this must be. Rachel stooped in order to become level with her sister. But I only told you of our very special bond, of how we are not half-sisters, but whole, since we only have each other now. Cant you understand that with Amandas death, I have lost a mother also? Cordelia turned away, but she ceased to struggle after hearing her words. Rachel didnt venture to hope shed gotten through. A drought became a frustrated waterfall of tears as Cordelia sobbed. Cordelia, would you care for some water? Cordelia gave a tired nod. When the first dressing came unwrapped around her head, she yawned to stretch her jaw muscles. Rachel pulled out a wad of saliva soaked cloth, a ladies handkerchief shed used to quiet her sister. Slowly, drink it slowly now, Rachel said, tipping the cup higher the faster Cordelia gulped. The taste of the cool liquid had never been sweeter. Between the laudanum and fainting spells, Cordelia was too weak to take down solid food. So the porridge Rachel made would have to wait until the morning. As the ship rocked, a cockroach scrambled to stay upright, yet as soon as it got its bearing, the insects direction again changed, sending it sliding towards the opposite wall, this time getting stuck in the crack of a floor plank. Rachel watched the roach start the process all over again without hesitation

or even agitation. Wherever this creature wanted to go, it was some utopia at the other end of their small room. I suppose I should just put it out of its misery, she said aloud. There was no response from her sister. She hadnt expected one, not with the laudanum taking affect. At least Cordelia had allowed herself to be placed back on the cot. Rachel took an uncomfortable position at her side. In some ways Cordelia was just like that cockroach. Far too stubborn for her own good. She hadnt expected Cordelia to take the news well, for death was never an easy thing to accept. But she sensed it wasnt the passing of their real mother that had triggered all the melodrama. Its when shed informed Cordelia most of the laudanum was gone, and that shed have to ration out the remainder. Their ensuing bickering and sniping only served to make matters worse, and when Cordelia raised a hand as if to strike her, Rachel was left with no choice. She told her sister the truth. If they were to go down to the depths of the sea, her mistress would at least know they had the same mother. After some reflection and the passage of time, Rachel now reasoned it did seem like a cruel thing to do, heaping sorrow upon sorrow. For Cordelia knew what the implication of her true lineage meant. She was not white. And she could be sold into slavery if her secret ever got out.

ordelia gave no thought or wonder where Zachary would sleep tonight. At least she wouldnt have to share his bed. Her husband was above deck, not working alongside the sailors to save the ship, but quoting scripture, hoping to prevail upon the lord not to drown all one hundred and ninety poor souls being churned by hells boiling waters. Cordelia had a moment of panic, thinking Rachel still meant to tell Zachary that hed been fooled into marrying a woman who was not white. But for now Rachel remained silent. That much was a welcome relief. Cordelia was certain there had to be some mistake, that it was possible Rachel was lying. Though the telegram stated the Woodruff plantation had been burned to the ground, there still could be some type of document listing her as a slave. Rachel claimed their secret was safe, but how could it be?

And why reveal their connection when both Abigail and Amanda were dead? No, there had to be some mistake. For the want of her own twisted enjoyment, Rachel had pulled her into this hell, Cordelia reasoned. A loving sister could not do such a thing. A selfless, God fearing sister would stay silent. Yes, their relationship had changed. It was now irrevocably broken. When the laudanum took effect Cordelia felt woozy, unfeeling. It was the only thing keeping her from running about the ship screaming. The surgeon had asked whether he could examine her, but she was lucid enough to know what that meant. Observation and confinement, perhaps even in a sanitarium once they landed. Somehow, someway she would have to grapple with her emotions. She would have to take this for what it was, and learn how to endure. Right now all Zachary and the other members on board knew of her predicament was that she was mourning the passing of her mother and the devastating loss of her family home. They thought perhaps the gruesomeness of the slave rebellion had driven her to utter despair. But she hated Abigail, the woman shed thought all these years as her mother, and felt even less for the slave Amanda. Yes, that had to be it. Rachel hated her. Perhaps she even fancied Zachary for herself. Youre doing real good now Miss Cordelia. If you stay quiet like this, I can loosen your feet at least, Rachel promised. For a time they both fell asleep, until the ache in Rachels side forced her to wake. Instead of settling back into her position along the bed, she searched for the cockroach by the dim of candlelight. Are you watching for your tiny pet? Rachel twisted her head Cordelias way, not certain if shed heard correctly. But Cordelias eyes were closed, her breathing steady, as if shed been asleep for hours. It wasnt until the next morning that she found the creature, mashed into the wood underfoot by Cordelias boot heel.

Chapter Three

enshi Nishizato was regarded with whimsical smiles as he walked on the ships deck, though the nods in his direction were exceedingly polite. There was a rumor going around the ship that the bright eyed student was somehow related to the prince of Japan, for how else could he be schooled in France and England, and occupy the largest cabin on the vessel? Now he strutted about, checking a brass watch fob that hung from one pocket, just like the European and American gentlemen, even remarking what a fine day it was. His close shorn hair was hidden under a bowler hat, since he wanted to look as westernized as possible, to show hed learned well the lessons taught to him by the English and French scholars. Tenshi also possessed an enviable collection of English lovelies on daguerreotype plates to show his friends once he returned home. This way he could at least prove hed mingled with some of the most desirable women in Europe and America. His reverie was interrupted by feminine giggles and shouts, as a young woman noticed the dolphins leaping along the ship. The female was trying to get her companion to laugh, a girl of similar height and build, who seemed to be hiding her face in a frilly sunbonnet. Their interaction intrigued him, so he pretended to be engrossed in his photos as he walked over. The girl in the hat kept a bowed head, but when she raised it he could make out the purplish marks under both eyes, even as she sought to escape his gaze. Ah, she was indeed a lovely female, even with her bruises. His eyes lingered along her neck, and he counted the moments until the tie on her bonnet would fully come undone. Then he could be a gallant gentleman and warn that she might lose it. But it was not to be. In the next instance there was a swirling gust of sea whipped wind, and the hat blew right into his face. His hands rose in surprise, and his precious sepia miniatures clattered about his feet and theirs. Embarrassed, he attempted to scoop his mementoes up before they were destroyed by the salty water along the deck. The female attendant also acted quickly to retrieve what hed lost, while the other girl watched the whole episode as if in a trance.

The sorting and stacking of the objects took all of his attention, but once he had them in order and back in his pocket, he looked up to find the girl staring at him expectantly. Now the bonnet, please sir, the girl said with a smile on her lips, though her dark eyes were cold. Here was the instrument of his introduction. He could return the bonnet in person, and perhaps they could share a conversation. Tenshi was giddy with hope that the young lass who owned this bonnet had a voice matching the beauty of her face. But the Negro girl would not let him pass. They did an awkward side step dance, with him going one way while she followed in order to block his path. Koroi Tjin, Ill give it to her, he said. Tell your mistress I wish to speak to her, slave. Rachel winced, knowing what his words meant. In that moment a shared understanding passed between them. Even though they both had bronzed skin, his condescending slur was meant elevate his status. Yellow niggrah, just give me the hat, she spat, angrily snatching it from his hand. You aint white, you just a little toady. And Im not a black barbarian or a slave. Im free. Im Miss Cordelias sister. Her tone and candor were a surprise to him. That she dared talk back with such venom rattled his confidence, and brought forth the memory of a headmasters cane on his backside with the warning that no matter how starched his collar and well fitted his tailored suit, it would never be good enough. One of the ships crew members attempted to intervene by taking the bonnet from the servant and handing it to the other girl, who quietly retied it to her head. She then took the Negro females hand, which seemed to have a calming effect as they retreated below deck. Everything alright here with you sir? the sailor asked, handing him a photograph that had been missed. Tenshi nodded yes, still under the spell of the girls outburst. Excuse me, would you be kind enough to give me her full name, the young woman in the bonnet? he wondered. The sailor replied with a quizzical brow. He had a kind face, with rosy cheeks and curly black hair. Shes a newlywed sir. Perhaps youve met her husband, the Very Reverend Zachary Bice? Is she ill? A bit melancholy, but a teaspoon more of laudanum should quell your concerns once she gets back to her husbands cabin.

A touch of melancholy. That was the term most of his English friends said afflicted their wives. Melancholy was a highly contagious disease among western females. As the sailor stepped away with a curt nod, Tenshi asked one last question. Ah, but please, who is the other one? The bold . . . attendant? The sailors demeanor and his voice noticeably tightened. Do you wish to report an offense? No. However, it seems she is quite the opposite of melancholy, Tenshi said. Very much so. The sailor smiled back at him, searching his face, lingering over the shape and the strong bone structure. Tawny in color, this lad was a tall, sturdy youth, with eyes and hair black as pitch. He would make an excellent subject to draw. But instead of asking the question he wanted, Augustus revised it. Do you play games of chance, Mister-? Nishizato. Tenshi Nishizato, he said with a bow. And yes, I play faro, stud poker, dominoes and draughts. Augustus offered his hand and both men shook in greeting. Augustus Ballantine, second mate. Theres a faro game planned for tonight, if youre up to the challenge. I would be honored. Itll be jolly good to have you along. Now if you will excuse me- Certainly, Tenshi smiled, But if I could have her name- Augustus frowned, then remembered Tenshis unanswered request. He wanted information on the colored servant. Her name is Rachel, he finally said. Tenshi thanked him, fanning through his daguerreotypes. All his pale lovelies were accounted for. A stunning figure with a sunny disposition, Augustus mused as he walked away, heartened that the conversations about the lad were not overstated. Obviously well bred, accidents at sea were so commonplace it would be a pity to see him drown. However, if his interest in the females did not wane Augustus would see to it that a watery grave would be his end.

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