This story contains graphic but completely fictional depictions of sex among men and men, and men and underage boys and/or girls, and even nekkid women show up now and then. If this offends you, if it is illegal for you to read or download this, or if you are under 18, please go away.
Seaward Plantation
War clouds chapter fifteen
A moment passed as the people of Seaward fully grasped the appearance of Marcus when the boy threw his hood back on the pier. Then with a tremendous roar, everyone rushed him. Appleby got there first, swooping him into his arms, turning and turning as he hugged him tight, pressing his face into the boy's cheek. But the others were close behind him, with Portia shouting and clawing her way through the crowd. They let her pass, and she merged into Marcus and Appleby, the three embracing tightly, weeping, laughing.
The press of people forward was so great that some had to leap aside off of the pier and onto the Harmony and the Defiance. "Back!" cried Troy, "back!" and reluctantly the people moved back off of the pier onto the shore. It was fortunate that nobody went into the cold winter sea. Appleby and Portia carried Marcus quickly in that direction, hands touching and stroking as they went by. Ashore, there was not a dry eye--those who had not been overcome by the news of the president's emancipation proclamation were now carried away by Marcus's return. Only Ezekiel Thomas--and the mysterious second sailor--hung back, smiling, letting the people of Seaward have their moment with their prodigal son.
One person and then another embraced Marcus, hugged him, swung him around. It might fairly be said he had hardly touched the ground since leaving the pier. But then Portia noticed something, sensed something, remembered his stepping onto the pier. Pushing her way back into the clot of people by her son, she grasped him by the shoulders.
"Set him down, set him down," she said. Her sense of urgency compelled obedience. Marcus stood, looking at his mother through tear-filled eyes. She pulled his cloak aside. As she had thought--he leaned on a short walking stick. Now Appleby noticed as well, and came in close to lay a hand on his son's shoulder.
"Marcus," said Portia, "your leg. That stick. What is the matter?"
Marcus smiled bravely at her. "It's alright, Mama. It hurts sometimes, but I can walk, although....it won't bend any longer. But really, it's alright." Then his face broke into a brilliant smile. "It's what got me out of the Army!"
Portia caught her breath. Appleby asked, "What happened, Marcus?"
A clouded look came over his face. "A cannonball. It landed near us. There was an explosion. Others were killed. So many others....." he looked into the middle distance, seeing pain and suffering. "They were going to cut it off, but I wouldn't let them. Hi wouldn't let them, either. So they did what they could, and that was good, because I can still walk. I just can't bend it."
The crowd murmured, discussing Marcus's injury, as Appleby and Portia embraced him once again. Some who had not yet greeted him now pressed forward, but more gently. And among them was Apple, a cloak around her to protect her from the weather. Marcus startled as he saw her, then smiled shyly. She looked uncertainly at him, seeming to test the depths in his eyes, then smiled and held out her hands, which he grasped.
"Hello, Marcus. I have missed you," she said.
"I missed you, also," he replied. "I thought about you." An awkward moment passed. "You've grown, you look older!" he said, brightly.
"So do you," she said, which was true. He was noticeably taller, seemingly more mature than his twelve-going-on- thirteen years. They looked at each other a moment more, then Apple said, "I guess we have both changed." And at that she drew her cloak aside. Marcus's eyes traveled downward, stopped, grew large. Her belly was slightly swollen in the unmistakable contours of pregnancy. He shot a glance back at her, questioning. Apple put out a hand to him again and said, "It's alright, Marcus. It's good." And the two embraced with deep affection.
Then Marcus began chuckling and shaking his head. Turning, he looked back up the pier. "I guess it is time to introduce Hi," he said. Thomas and the hooded sailor walked back up the pier toward the shore. Stepping onto the beach, the sailor threw the hood back. A beautiful, oval, boyish face was revealed, dark chocolate under a dense cap of jet black kinky hair about half an inch long, full reddish brown lips.
"This is Hi," said Marcus. "Uh...my friend. My really good friend. Hi had to leave the army, too."
Appleby put his arm around Hi's shoulders and inquired, "Are you injured, son?" Hi looked and Marcus and the two of them laughed softly.
"No, Papa, Hi's not injured. I guess you could say the Army found out about Hi."
"Oh!" said Portia, puzzled. "Hi, is that short for Hiram?"
"No," said Marcus, stepping over to his friend, unfastening the cape around Hi. "It's short for Hyacinth, and that's what the Army found out." The cape moved back, revealing unmistakably female contours and--the rounded belly of a pregnancy about halfway along. The only sound on the beach was the drizzle of the rain.
"Marcus!" said Appleby, hesitating. "Y--You?" The boy hung his head, blushing and nodding. "Hyacinth," Appleby said gently, addressing the new arrival, "how did you come to be in the Army? Do I understand that you disguised yourself as a boy until---until you could disguise your condition no longer?"
Hyacinth nodded, her head erect and looking forthrightly at Appleby and all around. "I had to, sir. It was my chance to escape slavery, in Virginia. They would not have taken a girl in the Union Army, so.....I pretended to be a boy."
"It took me a month to find out!" Marcus piped up. "One night..... well, uh....it took me a month," he concluded, lamely.
Portia slipped over to Hyacinth and put her arm around the girl. "How old are you, child?"
"Fourteen, ma'am."
"So young," murmured Portia. Then she glanced at Apple and said again, "so young." But Apple came up to Hyacinth and put her arm out--one finger, then three, laid on the swelling belly--then looked deeply into her eyes, nodded and smiled. "It's good, Mama Portia," she said, "It is all good. It is love and life, and it came freely, and that's all good." Then Apple embraced the girl, and kept her arm around her shoulder for as long as they remained on the beach.
More introductions--"Whose are these?!" marveled Marcus at the three infants presented to him, which occasioned much laughter and explanation. As Bundit was mentioned he, too, pushed his way through the crowd. He smiled broadly at Marcus and they hugged tightly.
"Papa Bundit! I looked for you but couldn't find you. Have you gone to sea and back, then?"
A shadow of pain passed over Bundit's face. "No, Marcus," he said gently, "I have gone to slavery and back. What we feared for you happened to me, and what I planned to do you, in some part, did." Marcus looked shocked, his mouth open. Bundit roughed up his tangled brown curls and said, "We have so many stories to tell you." The boy nodded.
Then came the three arrivals from Ashley Plantation, strangers all to Marcus, each one a new story and a wonder. Shaking his head in amazement, Marcus straightened up and looked around the crowd. "Where is Papa Priam?" he asked. Again there was a silence, and Portia put her arm around him. "He is gone, Marcus. Killed when rebel forces pursued the Hesperus here. He rests on the hilltop now. As we said, there are many stories to tell." The boy's lip trembled and he looked around vaguely still, not quite understanding what he had been told. But there would be time and opportunity for it all to become plain.
Troy suddenly remembered something and turned toward the end of the pier. There stood Ezekiel Thomas by himself. "Ezekiel!" he cried, "do you have some shore leave? Can you stay a while?"
"Yes, I can stay a week. I am still on active duty, but I have applied to be transferred to this squadron, and so here I am. I may tell you, I think, that there will be more action in this area in the future. By land and sea, attempts will be made on Charleston. But for now.... yes, if you will have me, I can stay." Pan and Bacchus stepped up to embrace him as Hector ran back down the pier to fetch his bag. That procured, the longboat pushed away from the pier and rowed through the gathering mists back to the ship.
In the main house of Seaward Plantation that night there was a bright fire in every room. The dining room table groaned under a splendid feast of welcome and homecoming, people ate in every room, while those desiring fresh, cold air risked the verandah for short periods, as the rain and wind had continued. Marcus was amazed at what had changed and what had not, was stirred by the stories of military action and, bit by bit, began to share his own harrowing stories of war ashore. Hyacinth sat quietly, learning and marveling, but Apple often sat beside her to tell her the stories of Seaward and to fill in information implied by the stories that were told.
The party went into the evening. For this night, watches were called in from the cemetery and the pier; the weather was too foul for an enemy to attempt a landing, and Thomas's warship prowled the sea around the island anyway. Cozy and warm, reunited in flesh and memory, and free in many ways-- the growing Seaward family had much to celebrate.
Late that night, the party finished and the house cleaned, Marcus and Hyacinth put to bed together on the second floor of the main house, Troy and Appleby snuggled together against the cold under a warm quilt. The rain slapped against the window, but inside all was peaceful and secure. Lying side by side, arms entangled, noses rubbing, floating on a blissful buzz of wine and brandy, the two men talked softly of the day's momentous events.
"So, Troy....you are free now!" said Appleby. The two laughed softly. "Maybe now you will quit calling me 'Master.'"
Troy kissed the white man on the lips and whispered, "Never. As I told you, I was always free. And I will always be yours, and I think maybe you'll always be mine. But, I started calling you 'master' first, so we'll keep it that way."
The two snuggled in tighter and cozier. Two stiff penises, one fudge brown and one purplish pink, stiffened in the warm space between their bodies. Three arms pulled bodies close together while one hand grasped both rods and slipped up and down, up and down. Two breaths became one, chaining in and out of parted lips that kissed and sucked. One hand joined two bodies together in their most sensitive places, sliding up and down, sliding into an ecstasy that would unite them again, as it had so many times in the past. Pushing in together, both bodies were suddenly merged with a wave that washed away barriers of skin and space. And then they slept.
The return of Marcus and the fact of two new pregnancies on the island led the people to resolve the next day to use the last of their precious building lumber to construct another cabin. The weather was still cold but the rain had lifted, so all hands pitched in on the work. Ezekiel Thomas was as eager as any of them, and worked hard in borrowed, old clothing. Seaward's last timbers were raised and fashioned together into a snug cabin in the space of a week with the eager help of so many workers. Then it was time for Lieutenant Thomas to leave again, and once again there was sadness at his parting all around. But the people were reassured that he was in the area and would return often.
The week following Thomas's departure was eventful. The cemetery lookout spied more and more Union ships gathering, steaming back and forth along the coast, coming as close as they dared to Charleston's defenses. On the last day of the month the alarm bell from the cemetery began clanging just as the people also began to hear a sustained rumbling coming to them from the direction of the harbor. From the cemetery, spyglasses revealed that some kind of naval battle on a scale larger than they had yet seen was taking place near or just in the mouth of the harbor. The battle continued through the day, and small flashes and moving lights continued into the evening.
Lieutenant Thomas was back the next day, his appearance alarming everyone. One arm was swathed in a heavy bandage. He did not actually come ashore but hailed the island from his ship as it stood off shore, and the Defiance sailed out to hear the news. When Troy, Appleby, and Hector, returned, they shared not only the sad news of Thomas's injury from a piece of exploding shell casing, they reported the failure of the Union navy the previous day. Some warships had sailed out of the harbor, led by the C.S.S. Palmetto State and C.S.S. Chicora to attack the navy in an attempt to lift the blockade. Although the blockade remained, two Union ships, the U.S.S. Mercedita and the U.S.S. Keystone State were lost, and ships on both sides sustained heavy damages. It signaled a new turn in the war, and from now on the cemetery lookout more frequently saw the flash of cannon, and people all over the island could often hear their low, distant rumbling like the rumor of war.
All that spring the Union navy tested the defenses of Charleston. Samuel DuPont--now an Admiral--returned on the scene with a squadron of the newfangled ironclads, strange looking ships with iron plates attached all around them, some of them powered only by steam with no masts. In early April Admiral DuPont bravely led his ironclad fleet into the harbor, and the no less brave defenders soundly trounced them, damaging the U.S.S. Keokuk so badly it sank the next day. All this news of defeat, relayed back to Seaward by passing warships, was dismal news for the island--but on the other hand, it meant an even greater naval presence in the area, and thus greater protection.
Meanwhile, Marcus was settling back into the life of Seaward, but it seemed as if he had taken on the estate of a man. Now thirteen, he stood tall and walked proudly despite his injury. War had touched him to the heart, and instilled there a maturity that, for better or worse, set him apart from the other young people on the island. Hyacinth learned the ways of Seaward quickly, including how to read and write. She and Apple awaited their deliveries in the new cabin, with Marcus installed upstairs in the loft. Samuel preferred remaining with the men from Ashley. Hyacinth was at first astonished to learn of the freedoms and liberties of the island, and perhaps even somewhat disapproving, but eventually she came to accept their ways of doing things.
The end of May came, and the time for delivery of the new infants was at hand. Apple's hour came first, and it was a difficult delivery because of her youth. It took all of the medical skill of the women on the island to pull her through. She gave birth to a beautiful girl, whom she and Samuel named Blossom in honor of the flowering earth of springtime that was all around them. Then Hyacinth was delivered of a boy, named Battle by her and Marcus in honor of all they had witnessed and suffered together in the Army. When it was clear that little Battle and his mother were healthy and safe, Appleby took a long walk by himself around the island, reflecting on the fact that at the (it seemed to him) tender age of thirty-eight he was a grandfather. Cass and Juno of course were great-grandparents, as would Priam have been, and Athena, Troy and Hector were also grandparents. Many good natured jokes were made on that theme for some weeks after the new arrivals.
New birth meant that, within a week or two, the ceremony of naming the babies would be held. It was a clear, warm night in June when both babies were carried up to the cemetery hill by the entire community of Seaward. Around a cheerful, blazing fire each child was lifted up to the host of brilliant, bright stars that studded the dark sky. It seemed as if they had never shown brighter. For once, there were no flashes of light from the direction of Charleston to indicate a naval engagement or shore bombardment. The heavens were at peace.
As the company remained around the campfire, talking comfortably, Troy and Appleby looked at each other and nodded. Troy rose to speak.
"My friends, I have been thinking. Tonight we have given names to these new babies, as people on Seaward have for years. These are the first babies born free--legally free-- on this island, and it got me to thinking. You all know, slaves never had family names, 'last' names, and those of us who were slaves on Seaward never did either." Everyone around the campfire nodded and murmured, affirming the fact. Troy continued.
"I believe it is true that only two of us have a last name, or family names: Bundit and Master Mark." The two nodded in confirmation. "Master Mark and I were talking today, and we both agree: we need a family name. Now, I think that Bundit and Master Mark might want to keep the names they are used to," and here he looked at both of them, who nodded in agreement, "but what about the rest of us? What should we call ourselves? It seems as if a family name befits free men, women, and children." The assent to that statement was vigorous, and there was a general discussion. Several possibilities were mentioned, among them "Appleby," but Mark Appleby himself argued against that, saying that it would be more a mark of their freedom to have a name not connected with someone who had, at some point in the past, legally owned them.
Finally, Cassius made the suggestion that carried the day. He rose and said, "Why not 'Seaward'? It is a good, simple name, and seems fitting. We are of Seaward, so let that be our name." There was a general murmur of discussion again, and the motion carried unanimously. For a week thereafter, the people found both sport and pride in solemnly addressing one another as "Mr. Seaward" or "Miss" or "Madame Seaward." The name fit and it felt natural.
All that summer of 1863 and into the fall, rumors came to Seaward of a strange new warship used by the rebels, a ship that could rise and fall in the water, actually sinking beneath the waves for some period of time to attack an enemy unseen. Some rumors reported the sinking of such a craft, a sure sign that it was unreliable--if the rumors were true. At other times reports came of successful attacks on Union vessels by this unheard of "sub-marine" warship. The people of Seaward did not know what to believe, and the watches on cemetery and pier now kept anxious eyes on the sea itself for signs of moving metal monsters in the deep. One bright spot in the war news was Union capture of Morris Island in the harbor in the fall of that year. Bit by bit, the Union was making headway.
However, the people's fears concerning the underwater vessel were confirmed in February of 1864 when news followed after the flash and rumble of a battle near Charleston. A rebel underwater vessel had not only attacked but actually sank the U.S.S. Housatonic. Some were inclined to panic and think it meant the beginning of the end for the Union cause, while others thought it an isolated incident that could not continue, for how reliable could a vessel be that sank intentionally? It turned out that those in the latter camp were correct, and there were no more serious underwater assaults on the Union vessels. The mysterious vessel seemed to have vanished.
The cycles of everyday living continued on Seaward; children grew, crops grew, the yearly round of fruiting and harvest came and went. The fighting off of Charleston seemed endless, and fruitless. More ships arrived, more soldiers came, and expended effort and lives without success against the formidable walls of the city and harbor's defenses. In the neverending cycle of attack and retreat, attack and retreat, neither defenders nor attackers fully realized that an arrow was pointed at the back of Charleston and would soon begin moving with alarming speed through the heart of the south, pointed right at the city's spine--and that arrow was named General William Tecumseh Sherman. As 1864 moved into the fall, that fate was already on its way from the west, as Sherman marched through the South wreacking havoc on areas hitherto untouched by war.
Children grow by leaps and bounds because we do not notice the little, everyday changes. One warm fall day in 1864, their day's work completed early, Appleby and Troy took a walk around Seaward by way of relaxation. Having a time to relax and reflect, they saw the younger children playing on the lawn of the main house and marveled at how they had grown. Blossom and Battle were toddling, while Haven, Free, and Priam were of an age to be bossy over their younger relatives. The mothers kept a close watch on the group, shelling late peas while sitting on the verandah. Troy and Appleby frolicked with the youngsters, giving horsey rides on their backs, the complicated relationships of sons and daughters, grandsons and granddaughters, nieces and nephews seeming unimportant in the playful, tumbling mix of multi- hued little bodies.
Dusting themselves off, laughing, Troy and Appleby continued their walk, crossing over to the eastern side of the island. There they found the older children, except for Apple who was, with Hyacinth, watching her child back on the lawn. There were Marcus, closer to fourteen now than thirteen, Rain, Wat, Frederick and Douglass in a tight span of eleven, twelve, and thirteen, and even Moss who had seemed like such a baby just yesterday was already ten years old.
Coming through a tangle of trees and onto the high side of the beach, Troy and Appleby found the older group swimming in the sea, and all of them naked. The two men sat on the beach to enjoy the spectacle. Splashing in the water, running on the beach, the lithe, naked bodies exuded animal good health. Sea water glinted on thin, muscular bodies and sparkled in many kinds of hair: brown or black, curly or straight or tight peppercorn kinks. Each boy sported a partial erection, brought on not only by the nakedness all around them but by sheer good health and exercise. Marcus's penis was thick beneath a bush of curly brown hair, Rain had a small triangular patch of tight kinks where her thighs met. Wat's golden brown penis was sticking straight out from beneath a waving, small shock of black hair, and Frederick and Douglass had sprinklings of tight peppercorns above slim, bobbing dark brown rods. Only Moss was entirely smooth, little buds of breasts and slightly swelling hips showing promise of future development. From light brown through golden brown to deep chocolate, the skins of the young people made a beautiful palette of color. Their body outlines were sinuous curves, rounded lobes of muscle, ridges of muscle already showing the promise of strength to come.
The youngsters stopped in their play when they saw the adults and waved, encouraging them to join them, standing with arms around waists and shoulders of their friends-- which did nothing to discourage the boys' erections. But Troy and Appleby shook their heads, smiling. Appleby turned to his friend.
"You know, Troy, there was the day when I would certainly have joined them, and taken pleasure with them and they with me. I did years ago, you know, with Helen and Hector, Pan and Bacchus." Troy nodded, remembering his own escapades. "But there is pleasure in just seeing such beauty and also.... you know, there is a sense in which generations move on and, even if it is not wrong to have physical pleasure, the same freedom we give children to grow and explore also becomes a distance we grant them. Well, that was quite a little speech, wasn't it? But I think I mean to say, it just feels right to enjoy the sight and wish them well and.... and think about you and me, tonight."
Troy put an arm around Appleby and hugged him tight, nodding. They watched the play a while longer and then left, leaving the youngsters with the freedom and love to pursue their own plans and devices.
Throughout the fall of 1864, Lieutenant Thomas's visits were sparse. His infrequent stops on the island brought news of increasing activity around Charleston. Farther north, Union armies were advancing toward Richmond, the brave defenders winning some battles and putting up stubborn resistance, but the end now seemed assured--so much so, in fact, that President Lincoln had been reelected in November, assuring the continued prosecution of the war effort. The people of Seaward waited and hoped. They were still able to provide for themselves, but mail boats had long since ceased passage in those waters. Supplies were still adequate but slowly dwindling. Clothes were becoming old and worn. The people of Seaward by no means faced desperation or starvation, but they looked forward to a return to normality and peace, when goods could once more be shipped to them--from the North if not locally.
It was in mid February of 1865 that it became clear that some major military effort was underway near Charleston. Few days now passed that flashes or glows of fire did not light up the evening sky, and during the day and night alike the long, growling roar of cannon fire was nearly uninterrupted as it rolled across the sea from Charleston. Then the activity ceased, and two days later a Union warship anchored off the island. A longboat rowed out from it toward the pier, met by the gathered people of the island. By the waving of his hat they could make out Lieutenant Thomas standing in the bow. The boat slipped up to the pier and was secured, and the Lieutenant stepped ashore.
Looking all around, he took a deep breath and said, "I have tremendous news. The Confederate forces in Charleston have evacuated. It was finally General Sherman's approach from the south and west that turned the trick. Our forces never fully breached her defenses, but they have withdrawn their soldiers to reinforce armies farther north. We have occupied Fort Sumter again, and our troops walk the streets of Charleston."
It took a moment for the news to sink in, and it did so with a great stillness. All the danger was now passed, at least the kind of danger that the war had portended. The great struggle was over there, and it seemed as if it would be so farther north before long. But there was no shouting or commotion on the island--the relief, the importance of Thomas's announcement, went deeper than that. Every person old enough to understand the message gave thought in their hearts as to what the new world before them would mean. Maybe what the people felt was peace, and they were so unused to having peace on the mainland that they did not know what to do.
Lieutenant Thomas could not stay but promised to return when he could. When he had gone the people gathered thoughtfully to discuss the new world that had dawned, and what their part would be in it. Some expressed thoughts of going ashore, of walking freely down the street, of walking Charleston as free men and women. Others, including Appleby, cautioned them that the scars of slavery were not so easily healed, and that full acceptance of people on the mainland regardless of color might take many long years to achieve. As a last gesture of the war, the people agreed that the days of keeping watch on the pier and cemetery were over; the sentries were called home.
As it turned out it was two months before the people of Seaward saw Ezekiel Thomas again, so they had plenty of time to dream, imagine, and discuss their futures. It was late April before Thomas rowed in from a warship anchored off of Seaward. Stepping onto the pier, he looked grave.
"My friends," he said, "I have two pieces of astounding news."
"You said that once before, and it was indeed momentous news!" said Appleby, thinking of the day on which the Emancipation Proclamation and Marcus were both carried to Seaward by the Lieutenant.
"Yes, and I do so again. The good news first: General Lee has surrendered to General Grant in Virginia. For all practical purposes, the war is over. Only small pockets of resistance remain." There were cries of astonishment, exclamations of gratitude. Then Troy asked, "You said good news first--and the bad?"
Thomas paused for a moment, an expression of pain on his handsome features. "President Lincoln is dead. Assassinated in Washington. He died but a week ago. We have just received that news by telegram." A wave of sorrow washed over the group. So many losses, so much death, and such needless death for the president to have died but days after the war was largely over. And to what end? Their hopes and thoughts for a new world returned to them, and they wondered what kind of a new day all this blood would bring.
After the group had talked through their grief at Lincoln's loss, Thomas raised his voice once more. "I am here for the night, if you will have me. And then, I wanted to ask: who wants to go into Charleston? My ship will be anchoring in the harbor tomorrow. It will pick me up early in the morning, and can take a few of you if you want to go." This announcement, although hardly the most momentous, provoked the most discussion. Thomas sent the longboat back to the ship and walked with everyone back up to the main house. They discussed the matter as they went. Most people expressed some desire to go to Charleston at some point, if for no other reason than curiosity: to see a place that had been held up to them all their lives as a place of danger and risk. But they agreed that only a few should go the next day. And after some discussion it was decided that Appleby, Troy, Portia, and Cassius would go.
The next morning, those four rose early with Thomas, who slipped from Pan and Bacchus's bed to prepare for the day. They were on the pier in good time for the longboat to take them to the warship. Unused to such a large vessel, the four imagined they had been transported to a strange and magical place; and they likewise presented quite a spectacle for the sailors onboard. Making up a head of steam, the ship made it into the Charleston Harbor quickly, and anchored off the pier. A longboat was put over the side and Lieutenant Thomas and the four from Seaward were delivered to a pier.
The same pier, it turned out, that the Hesperus used to use. The same pier on which Appleby had first met Troy and Hector years ago. Appleby thoughtfully led the way down the pier toward the harbor buildings.
It seemed as if there were few major changes to buildings. In the streets were some blue uniformed Union soldiers, regarded with suspicion by many of the locals. But there seemed to be little damage that might be attributed to war. Most of the damage had been to the fortifications farther away from the center of the city.
Walking up from the harbor into the town, the four from Seaward moved as if in a dream. And then, gradually, they began to probe. Troy stopped some of the blacks to ask what they did now that they were free, where they lived, how they felt. The reactions were as varied as you might expect from any group of people. Some continued to serve their old masters, some were trying to find a way to earn a living on their own, some were preparing to leave--all valued their freedom but none found their lives especially easy since emancipation.
They passed Horatio Smith's old law office, but it seemed dusty and closed; had he served in the army far afield? Had he survived the war? They passed the old gathering hall for the Militia, flooding Appleby with memories of his careful stratagems and of Robert Ashley. Turning down a side street, looking and remembering, Appleby froze. It was a street of slave markets, and he knew it contained McGillicuddy's market--where Portia and Cassius had been bought and sold so many years ago. He made half a turn, but there the brother and sister where, stock still, right behind him and looking down the same street.
"Let us see," was all Cassius said. So they walked the few blocks with great apprehension. Coming to the place, they nearly missed it. The sign was down, the door chained and locked. All was quiet within, and only an air of desolation and abandonment coming from the glassless windows gave any witness to what had happened there. It seemed like the breath of the dead past. The same was true for the other slave markets on that street.
And so round and round the town they walked. Everywhere there were signs both of poverty and new enterprise, the failure of old hopes and the dawning of new ones. But the more they walked, the stranger a place it seemed. Memories settled on them like dust, but like dust they shook them off. Charleston had survived and would survive and would be a great city again--but it was clear that it was no place for them.
As they walked back down the streets toward the harbor, Ezekiel Thomas spoke up. "I have another announcement" he said.
"Oh dear!" cried Appleby, "Your announcements are so risky: either wonderful or terrible. Which is it this time, Ezekiel?"
"You must be judge of that," he said, with a smile. "This is the last day of my commission in the Navy. I have met the terms of my obligation and am free. Now, when I return you to Seaward.....may I stay? I mean, for good?"
The group stopped still on the first planks of the pier, looking with surprised astonishment at their friend. By way of answer, Appleby enfolded the lieutenant into his arms, and then Troy, Portia, and Cassius joined in likewise. It was an utterly scandalous sight to the passersby, black and white, to see such a mixture of people embracing in public. Sensibilities, black and white, were shocked by the spectacle. Did they know what they were seeing? that it was love and freedom? that it was the future?