Crossing the River Page 5

  The following afternoon, Edward engaged the services of the first mate of an American trading vessel. The experienced sea dog advised Edward that they would be setting sail on the evening tide, which meant there would be little time for Edward to occupy himself with spiritual preparation for the journey ahead. He simply hurried back to his rooms, gathered his belongings, paid the landlord, and employed a sturdy native to convey his boxed personal effects to the ship. The moon shimmered on the wrinkled face of the sea, and a stern breeze bellied out the sail. Edward settled in, and decided that he would pass most of his time sitting out on deck amongst the bales of luggage, breathing deeply of the salty air, and staring at the gleaming shoals of flying fish which leapt to either side of the ship. His inner being was filled with a strange tranquility, and a deep peace fell upon him at least the equal to any he had ever known in his life, although the origins and purpose of this strangely contemplative mood eluded him. In his mind he would rehearse scenes from the life of Christ, yet found that even in Christ’s moments of greatest adversity, such as when betrayed by Judas, or when being led to the Cross, his Lord’s face never lost its purity and compassion. Edward wondered if this peace were not perhaps the herald of his impending demise, but when this thought fought its way into his mind, he redoubled his strength and immediately banished it.

  There was simply no way of Edward discovering whether the man with whom he most eagerly desired an audience, namely Madison Williams, had received the letter informing him of Edward’s intention to set sail for Liberia, and giving him notice of the anticipated week of arrival. Following the souring of Edward’s relationship with this difficult man, when it became clear to all that a junior slave, Nash, had supplanted Madison in the master’s affections, Madison, a strong, proud man, both of character and stature, had withdrawn from the house and, in the privacy of the slave village, intensified his efforts to acquaint himself with the Bible and with the skills of reading and writing. After nearly two years, in which Madison rejected Edward’s many overtures towards him, perhaps recognizing that they originated in Edward’s guilt at having surrendered to his own changing passions, a sober-looking Madison had presented himself at the house and requested an audience of his master. When Edward appeared he announced that he now considered himself sufficiently educated, and properly acquainted with God’s ways, to have earned his freedom and subsequent transportation to the new African territory of Liberia. Edward, who had long desired the opportunity of bestowing upon Madison a gesture of good-will, hurriedly agreed to Madison’s request and asked if there were anything further that he might do. Madison shook his head firmly, bowed and withdrew. Soon after, he made his preparations to depart for Africa. His subsequent letters to Edward, though brief, had remained polite. Through them, Edward was able to discover that Madison had settled in Monrovia and was eking out a living as a small trader selling palm oil, rice, camwood, and animal skins to passing European and American ships. As this short voyage unfolded, Edward arrived at the uncomfortable conclusion that, perhaps because of the warmth of their first encounters, or perhaps this and the additional fact that the passage of time had served to sever Edward’s links with many of his other former charges, Madison had now become the only person in Africa whom he felt he could trust. Indeed, it had been to Madison that he had immediately turned when faced with the unpleasant details of Nash’s abrupt and final message. He would now have little choice but to place his entire confidence in this man.

  Edward’s first sighting of Monrovia came at dawn, but it certainly did not occasion his heart to leap with joy. In fact, Edward felt himself suddenly overcome with an ill-feeling of foreboding. The morning sea was beautiful and calm, and held in her embrace a number of small offshore islands. Beyond these rushed the boiling surf, where the low waves bit at the shore and foamed white, but thereafter was misery. Edward stared at the gathering of low, square huts, seemingly built of sticks and mud, walls leaning drunkenly to the north or south of vertical, clumsily thatched and adorned with grass, or a flattering crown of corrugated iron. Behind these dwellings he could see only a forested horizon which appeared to mask a huge, roaming jungle in which nothing stirred, and whose only sound was a mournful roar of silence. As Edward clutched the rail and watched, it would have been impossible for any onlooker to have guessed to what depths of loneliness he had now sunk. He looked up into the sky and saw rain clouds beginning to form and flow through the sky like huge ships, although by now he had come to understand that, in this zone, rain was little more than a precursor of the heat to follow. Back on land there was neither a whisper, nor a sign of movement from the ragged cluster of abodes which lined the shore. A despondent Edward leaned forward and set his face towards the bottomless ocean.

  Within the hour the ship had anchored off the African port of Monrovia, and the passengers and freight were being gingerly reunited with terra firma by means of a fleet of small launches. As his ill-made craft picked its leaky way through the surf, Edward noticed the fishing boats, their nets suspended from tall poles and drying in the sun before being once more thrown to the deep, and he reached the conclusion that these vessels of commerce seemed far better equipped for sea-faring than his present mode of transportation. Fortunately, the low wind merely ruffled the surface of the ocean, otherwise he was sure that both he and his boxes would have succumbed to a watery end. Once on shore, Edward clasped a handkerchief to his mouth and nose to ward off the fetid African air, but the sudden mist of mosquitoes could be combated only by his swatting them against his skin, until his forearm was decorated with a series of red blotches. Suddenly, natives and colored Americans were everywhere, anxious to greet the arrival of this new ship, and in their wake they created a veritable din. Edward examined them, particularly the natives, their semi-clad bodies ensnared by large corded muscles, but amongst their numbers he was unable to recognize any who had about them a demeanor which suggested that they might have been sent by Madison to greet him. And then the weather, being predictable in this region only in its excesses, suddenly, and without warning, changed, and the rain teemed from the skies. At moments such as this it was customary for a Christian gentleman to acknowledge that such a downpour, whilst causing inconvenience to the human being, inevitably bestowed much satisfaction and benediction upon God’s shrubbery, his crops, and his trees. However, the sudden outburst served only to irritate Edward and, following the example of others about him, he abandoned his boxes and marched with some purpose towards the shelter of an overhanging palm tree, whose branches hung limply as though they had been exhausted by the heat of many days. Edward examined the stout grey trunk, and fingered the grainy ridges which ascended as though a series of healed wounds. The rain began now to increase in volume, and Edward realized that he was effectively marooned until the wind chose to rise and blow the clouds to some other part of Africa.

  When the rain ceased, Edward entrusted his belongings to a colored American boy, whom he guessed to be not in excess of twenty years, and whom he observed to be a decent specimen. The boy asked of his master in which direction they were headed. Edward, who still carried within his bosom some idle hope that he might recognize a former slave from among the throng at the dockside, now found himself in the lamentable position of having to ask advice from his employee. Under questioning, it appeared that this boy was aware of decent lodgings where white people could comfortably accommodate themselves. Edward had presumed that such places would be difficult to locate, for the idea was that Liberia would be established as the country of the free blacks, and Edward had imagined that those white men who dared the seas to arrive in Liberia would have little choice but to join with the more civilized negroes in the sharing of all manner of facilities, even those most basic to mankind. He had further presumed that this policy would no doubt prevent some opinionated white men, both traders and seamen alike, from tarrying too long in Liberia, if they chose to visit at all, but it had been argued, by those of a liberal disposition, that perhaps these were not t
he quality of men that this new country wished to attract. However, Edward’s employee assured him that lodgings for white gentlemen were indeed available.

  The young colored boy, his person severely burdened by Edward’s effects, led his master through the unkempt and overgrown streets of Monrovia. Edward could not help but notice what appeared to him to be appalling conditions, and he kept his handkerchief pressed close to nose and mouth against the truly foul smell which cleaved the air. Others, however, both white and colored, appeared unconcerned by this atmosphere, which led Edward to speculate as to whether or not he might, in the fullness of time, become similarly familiar with the unwholesome character of this Africa. The boarding house to which the bondsman led Edward bore some similarities to the one in Sierra Leone where he had recently dwelt. A wooden, two-storey affair, a thin coat of white paint and a small veranda bestowed upon this simple building an air of majesty. The colored boy stopped and lay down his boxes, as though unsure of his choice, but with a friendly nod of his head Edward made it clear to the boy that these premises were acceptable.

  The room was sparsely furnished, but with good taste. Edward eyed the mosquito net, which draped itself purposefully about the bed, and imagined that this would no doubt prove the most important item in the room. The window gave out on to a small courtyard where the clamor of commerce might, according to the black innkeeper, prove a trifle deafening in the daytime, but come the evening there would be neither sound nor song to disturb the slumber of his new guest. The man withdrew and left Edward together with the boy. It was at this juncture that Edward thought it politic to ask after the young man whether or not he was in possession of either a wife or a girl. To this the boy smiled shyly, then shook his head. Edward examined the young man, his perfect shape, strong torso, powerful legs, and then sat down on one corner of the bed. The bondsman remained standing, although he moved uneasily from one foot to the next as though unsure what was expected of him. And then Edward, sensing the young man’s discomfort, simply leaned forward and asked after his name. The boy averted his eyes, and, keeping the screen of his lashes low, he whispered the single word, ‘Charles.’ ‘I see,’ replied Edward, rising to his feet. ‘Charles, I will be taking a short rest. Perhaps you might try to locate for me the whereabouts of one Madison Williams, a former slave on my plantation and now, according to his testimony, residing hereabouts.’ At this juncture, Edward produced a piece of paper and held it out. However, before Charles could take it into his grasp, Edward withdrew the paper and made proper enquiry as to whether the young man could read. On receiving assurance that he could, Edward once more proffered the paper, which Charles took into his hand. ‘Once you have located Madison Williams, you will inform him that I desire to hold an audience with him at his earliest convenience, is this clear?’ Charles nodded his head and bowed silently. Then, without taking his eyes from his employer, he backed out of the room and gently closed in the door behind him.

  Some hours later, Edward heard a light knocking upon his door, and he jumped from the bed, startled by this unadvertised interruption to his slumber. Realizing that it must be Charles returning with news of Madison, he called to the black retainer, ordering him not to stray from his present position. Edward pulled about himself a loose gown, and then gently cracked the door and ushered in a sheepish-looking Charles. Edward thought it best to say little, and to give the chance to the young man, which proved to be the correct decision. No sooner had the door been pushed to behind him, and Edward guided him into a chair, than Charles immediately set forth on his tale of disappointment. Apparently he had, with little difficulty, located the house of Madison Williams, but when he arrived there he discovered the abode to be in a state of abandonment. It was not that it was either broken-down or weather-beaten in its appearance, but merely that it looked as though whosoever had formerly occupied the premises had departed in some haste. By standing on the tips of his toes and staring through the window, Charles was able to see that everything had been left in a state of disarray. It was at this moment that Charles was apprehended by a well-dressed man, in the company of his lady wife, who, pointing an umbrella in the direction of the younger and less worldly man, demanded of him an explanation as to his behavior. Charles had stammered a little before blurting out the information that he had been sent by his master to convey a message to one Madison Williams. On hearing this, the well-dressed man let it be known that Madison Williams had indeed left suddenly, to go up-river to attend to some business, the full nature of which the gentleman was unsure about. He was polite with his information, and further explained that he imagined that his friend, Madison, would be returning to Monrovia in the next day or two, for it was unknown that he should be absent from home for any protracted period of time. Edward listened carefully to all that the animated Charles related, his eyes never leaving the young man’s face. At the conclusion of the tale, Edward stood, reached into his pocket and pressed a coin upon Charles, who in turn muttered his thanks and made ready to take his leave. Edward informed young Charles that he expected him to visit at Madison’s house three times each day, morning, noon and evening, until the fellow returned. When he did so, Charles was to inform him immediately that his former master requested an audience with him as soon as possible. In the mean time, should Charles want for anything, he was to make it his business to appear at Edward’s lodgings, at any suitable hour, and reveal to Edward, without fear or embarrassment, the full nature of his needs. At this, Charles expressed gratitude, promised to do as instructed, and retired from the room.

  The evening was suddenly upon him. An overheated Edward, sweat sliding from his armpits and down his sides, examined his ashen flesh, observing with some distaste his stomach, where the skin was wrinkled like paint. After the departure of Charles, he had once more fallen asleep, but this time he had choked on a succession of unpleasant dreams and awoken in a fury, the sheet knotted about him as though he had fought with the bed in his sleep. Certain that further sleep would elude him for some hours yet, he dressed quickly, pausing only to inspect his ageing body and to listen as a rat ran across the thin boards of the ceiling. Then, satisfied that he was attired in a proper manner, he stepped out into the streets in search of some innocent amusement. In this Africa it appeared that both dawn and dusk were brief and ambiguous, as though there were little time to waste, and Edward soon found himself enveloped in gloom. In the distance, he heard the quiet engine of the sea continually renewing itself, and echoing across the night. Then he momentarily stiffened with fear as a dog whose sick-eye ran with water stepped casually out of the darkness. The ribbed mongrel hobbled awkwardly and eyed Edward in the hope of some morsel of food, but Edward glared back and thought about tossing a stick, for he considered it undignified to beg, and for this reason he found dogs repellent.

  Pausing at the first tavern, Edward glanced through the open door and was pleased to discover the place mercifully free of clientele. He entered, removed his hat, and sat at the nearest table. He signalled to the boy with his cane, and he came quickly to him, over-delighted in a childish manner to see custom in the form of a white gentleman. Edward made his demands known and settled back to cast his mind forwards and backwards across this problem of his former slave, Nash. That he had banished not only Nash, but many of his other slaves, to this inhospitable and heathen corner of the world disturbed Edward. The boy arrived and delivered a foaming tankard of beer to Edward’s table, and Edward rewarded him with a generous coin. The buffoon smiled and capered into the comer, and Edward supped carefully at the beer, his elbow bending like a stubborn hinge. Perhaps, thought Edward, this business of encouraging men to engage with a past and a history that are truly not their own is, after all, ill-judged. The light in the candle flickered, shadows danced against the white stone wall, and Edward drew again on his beer. It occurred to him that perhaps the fever, the sleepless nights, the complex welter of emotions that he had been subjected to since his arrival in Africa, were nothing more complex than manifesta
tions of a profound guilt.

  In a vain effort to banish the despair of this moment, and hopefully ensure a peaceful night’s sleep free of demons, Edward raised his hand and once more summoned the boy to him. An hour or so later, his person much refreshed by consumption, and risking offence by leaving a tankard unfinished, Edward struggled out and picked his way down to the harbor. Once there, he gazed upon the tranquil sea, the moonlight sparkling on the water so that it looked like a liquid case of jewels. And then his attention was seized by the echoing of heels upon flaggings, and the loud protestations of a woman who declaimed lunatic phrases as though speaking some foolish part she had written for herself. Judging her an Irish whore by dint of her accent, Edward stared at her as she trembled in her cloud of wounded indignation, the thick powder on her face channeled with tears, her mouth set in a twist, and he felt pity and despair in equal part.

  The following morning the braying of the traders and the incessant barking of dogs roused Edward from a troubling sleep. He fetched a deep sigh and cast a glance towards the small window, through which he could see that the clear, unclouded blue of the sky promised a murderously hot day, at least the equal of those he had already endured. He turned in the bed, careful not to disturb the mosquito netting, and realized that last night he had forgotten to pinch out the candle. A lump of misshapen wax overflowed the shallow dish. Then, a series of stifled coughs rattling through his body, Edward stepped urgently from the bed and first poured and then drank a glass of water. Perching on the edge of a chair, he soothed his dry throat with a further glass, and wondered if the boy Charles had left any message for him. Abandoning his desire for more slumber, he dressed quickly and sought out the innkeeper in order that he might make enquiry of Charles. Having located his host, he was informed by him that there was neither message, nor had there been any visit by Charles or any other, which caused Edward momentarily to panic and wonder whether the black bondsman had for some reason chosen to abandon him. Choosing not to dwell upon this unpleasant thought, Edward enquired after a club in which he might discover the company of white men and share with them some words, reasoning that if he was to be expected to pass yet more time in this savage environment, then he ought at least to be exposed to some of the pleasantries which civilized company can bestow upon a man’s otherwise wretched African existence. The negro innkeeper, his face suddenly closed and his eyes lowered, informed Edward that he knew of a colonial club whose members were, as he termed them, masters.