The Loyalist

Ship Harbour, Nova Scotia, 1831

Michael’s head dropped forward, jerking him awake. The room was warm and the large dinner in his belly made him sleepy. Elizabeth had insisted on a fire though it was only October and many much colder months lay ahead. The many years he’d had to chop the firewood himself made it difficult for him to accept this wasteful use of it. He stood up, intent on doing something to shake off this drowsiness.

Elizabeth looked up from her embroidery. Why don’t you take a nap, Papa?

He shook his head and went to the window. On the road in front of his property, he saw Anna and her little boy walking, head down, hungry eyes seeing nothing around them. The young woman looked up and he realized with a start that she wasn’t Anna. Of course not. Anna was long dead. He shook his head and wondered where his mind had gone. That was seventy years ago! But something about the woman’s manner had made him remember.

Before they walked out of view, he called his daughter. Elizabeth, who is that young woman?

Elizabeth sighed deeply, put aside her needlework, then got up and hobbled to the window. She shook her head and pursed her lips. You know her, Papa. That’s the Widow Lawrence. She rents the cabin on the property you bought from her husband last year.

She must think him stupid for forgetting. Yes, he said. Her husband died last winter, didn’t he?

She shrugged. They say she’s applied to the parish for alms.

Poor woman, he said, shaking his head. I haven’t seen her in a long time. That is why I forgot her.

What?! Hasn’t she been paying the rent since her husband died?

He shook his head and wished he hadn’t tried to explain his lapse in memory.

That isn’t right, Papa! You mustn’t let people take advantage of you like that. You should go and demand your money.

What is the point if she doesn’t have any?

People should pay their debts.

Don’t be unkind, Elizabeth. Hard times happen to us all. He was annoyed by her lack of charity and couldn’t help thinking it was somehow his fault. She had never known hard times; he had done his best to see that his children never knew such things. Ever since she was born, he had sheltered her and now she was an old woman herself. She’d never married nor had any children of her own. He must be patient with her.

Elizabeth went back to her needlework, and Michael decided to go out. I will pay a visit to the Widow Lawrence, he said.

That’s a good idea, Father. I hope you’ll make her see her duty.

He didn’t answer as he was already on the way to put on his Sunday-best visiting clothes. He wanted to see just what it was about the woman that had made him think of Anna, her soft brown hair breaking free of its restraints to frame her baby face. Her full, pouting lips and saucy blue eyes.

Michael walked out in the late October afternoon. It was good to be out of the stuffy house and breathe in the crisp fall air. As he walked along the dirt road pitted with wagon tracks, he thought how little Ship Harbour had changed in the more than forty years that he’d been here. It was still only a settlement-- individual houses spread along the road that followed the coastline surrounded by small cultivated fields. The land was so barren and rocky that most settlers only grew subsistence crops. They could get a better livelihood from the forest and the sea, and many of the dwellings hugged the harbour where the little fishing boats were docked.

Michael was one of the few with enough land and labour to make a living from farming. He still had two unmarried sons at home who worked the land for him. His oldest son Michael operated a saw mill at Seal Cove and his second son John Michael was captain of a schooner, The Waterloo, ferrying lumber and passengers down the coast to Halifax. Even after all these years, there was no road between the thriving seaport and the settlement. Though Ship Harbour provided the capital city with material to build churches, schools, halls, and shops, there were no such buildings here-- only houses and most of those still the original log cabins of the settlers. It always annoyed him how sloppily they’d been built. He remembered how much work had gone into his first cabin many years before, back in South Carolina. He had planed the logs by hand so that they were flat like boards in front, and the notches had fit so closely at the ends that only a little daub of mud was needed between the gaps.

***

Michael opens the door of his cabin on a warm spring day, and two-year-old Janet runs into his arms yelling, Papa.

He lifts her high into the air, releasing and catching her as she laughs nervously. Placing her safely back on the good earth, he looks up to see his wife Lizzie by the fire with her brother Charles. His good mood vanishes abruptly.

Good evening. He goes to shake his brother-in-law’s hand, but Janet has attached herself to his legs. He laughs and pulls her forward. Don’t hide. Come and say hello to Uncle Charles.

The little girl bows her head and mumbles.

I’ll take her to her room. Lizzie takes her by the hand.

When they are gone, Michael asks, Did Lizzie offer you anything to drink?

Sassafras tea, and I declined, Charles replies with scorn.

Would you like some whiskey?

Charles smiles. Don’t mind if I do.

Michael takes out two pewter mugs and places them on the table with a thud. Lizzie will berate him after Charles has gone, but only strong drink can make his brother-in-law’s presence tolerable. He’s tired of listening to Charles’ complaints about the colonial government in Charlestown.

So, what is it you’ve come to tell me, Charlie?

Charles takes the mug from him. The time has come. He places his mug solidly on the wooden table.

Michael takes a gulp of the moonshine whiskey, searing the back of his throat.

To take sides.

What do you mean?

Things are changing here in South Carolina. The Council of Safety has seized the Arsenal at Charlestown.

And what is the Council of Safety? Michael suspects it is a fancy name the rebels have given themselves.

The patriots, and they’ve declared Royal Power obsolete.

What?

It’s time we took the law into our own hands. We can rule ourselves better than some king who lives on the other side of the ocean and doesn’t know what we need. I’m going to join the Sons of Liberty, and all citizens have to choose which side they’re on. Are you with us or are you the enemy?

Michael shakes his head. He’s never understood his brother-in-law’s reckless disregard for the rule of law. I am, and always will be, a loyal subject of King George. I swore an oath to him when I arrived here nine years ago.

Charles sneers. Then you are my enemy now, because I am an American.

You are a British subject.

I was born here. Charles juts out his chin. And you were born in Germany, so why do you feel any allegiance to Britain?

King George gave me this land himself, and I shall never be a traitor to His Majesty. Michael crosses his arms.

Charles swallows the last dregs of his drink and stands up. Then I’ll have nothing more to do with you. On the way to the door, he turns around. Give my regards to my sister. He puts on his straw hat and leaves, slamming the door behind him.

There is not a moment to savour this good news before Lizzie comes back into the room.

Why did my brother leave so soon? She eyes the two mugs and the bottle on the table.

He told me to give you his regards, but he won’t be coming back.

What do you mean? Her eyes narrow. Did you have a falling out over something?

That we did, Michael puts away the whiskey bottle.

You ought not to ply him with liquor. I’ve warned you how angry he gets when he’s drunk.

He only drank a mouthful! The man was not drunk.

Don’t shout at me. Just tell me why my brother is not coming back.

He’s joined the Sons of Liberty and says I must choose between the rebels and the British. According to him, I have chosen the wrong side.

Oh. She sits at the table. I don’t understand politics, but why can’t you choose the same side as my brother to keep peace in the family?

Because your brother’s choice is foolishness. Do you think a handful of colonists will win against the might of the British army? He shakes his head. Besides, I am loyal to the King.

Why?

When I was starving, the King fed me. When I had nothing, he gave me this land. I owe him my life and livelihood.

Lizzie looks down and picks at her nail. He hates the way she does that. Next thing she will be chewing on her fingers till they start to bleed.

Chapter 2

Sarah opened the door and there stood her landlord, an old man, looking like a goblin with his big nose, bandy legs and old-fashioned clothes. He wore a double-breasted tail-coat, a fussy cravat and high collar, and snug leather knee-length breeches. May I come in, Mrs. Lawrence? he asked.

A jellyfish ball of fear settled in her gut as she opened the door wider to admit him. She hadn’t paid old Mr. Eisan any rent money since Jacob had died, and she’d been worried about when he would come to collect what was due. She would tell him that she’d asked the parish for alms. There just wasn’t enough room in her small cabin to take in boarders.

He stood, hat in hand, appraising the log cabin, perhaps looking for something of value among the sparse furnishings.

Come and sit here, sir, she said, indicating the two cane chairs before the unlit fireplace while she tried to still the fluttering of her heart.

He handed her his hat and seated himself on one of the chairs.

Can I get you some tea, sir? she asked as she placed his conical top hat on a wooden chest by the door.

No, dank ye, he replied with his slight accent.

Sarah took the chair beside him, waiting for him to ask her why she hadn’t paid the rent.

At last he spoke.

May I offer my condolences to you on your bereavement. It sounded as if he had rehearsed these words, and she was quite sure he’d said them exactly so at Jacob’s funeral six months before.

Thank you, sir.

I have heard you have asked the parish for aid.

How did he know? But of course, it wasn’t possible to keep anything a secret for long in Ship Harbour.

It is so sad that you cannot provide for your child. Where is your little boy, by the way? He looked around the cabin again. Sarah wished he would come to the point.

James is in the bedroom, playing. Would you like to meet him, sir? Perhaps her child would soften the old man to her plight. Surely he wouldn’t evict a mother and child at this time of year.

No, leave him play, he said, and immediately returned to business. Have you no family to help you?

No. My parents are both dead, as you know, and I was their only child.

And you have no other family here, perhaps in Halifax, that you can turn to?

No, sir. My parents came from England, she answered.

Ah, he said, leaning forward and resting on his cane. I want you to know that pity is not the reason for the proposal I have come to make to you today.

Proposal? Perhaps he wasn’t going to evict her after all. But what could he possibly be proposing?

You keep a clean and proper house. He glanced around the cabin again and she wondered if he was going to hire her as a housekeeper. Here was some hope. She was not afraid of hard work, though she didn’t know what she would do with James while she was working.

But that is not the reason for my proposal neither. I find you to be, and he cleared his throat, a very attractive woman indeed. The jellyfish in her gut squirmed.

His sharp black eyes peered down his long goblin nose. Would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?

The blood drained from her head so quickly that she thought she would faint. He had been an old man even when she was a child. In fact, ancient was a better word to describe Mr. Eisan. He had just celebrated his 101st birthday, although he was remarkably hale for someone that age. Sarah’s first instinct was to shout ‘no’ and send him away, but there were other considerations. She took a deep breath to steady herself.

If she refused him, and he turned her out, where would they go? Without a home, she would be destitute, and the parish might take Jamie from her and place him in an orphanage. She could not allow that to happen. As well as being the oldest, Mr. Eisan was also the richest man in town. If she accepted his proposal, she and Jamie would live in comfort, and they would be provided for after his death. Surely he could not live very much longer. For the sake of her son, she could bear to be his wife for the few years he has left. And surely such an old man would not lust after her. She blushed at the thought.

I don’t expect an answer now. You need time to consider my offer. If you marry me, you and your son will be looked after.

Yes sir, she said, still feeling overwhelmed by his proposal. May I ask, sir, why you want to marry me?

I want to keep my promise to your husband. Sarah wondered what he meant, but before she could ask, he spoke. Will a week be enough? he asked.

I beg your pardon, sir. A week for what?

To make your decision.

Yes, she said, wishing for a year.

Well then. I shall return at the same time next week.

***

The very next day, Sarah looked out the window and saw two ladies on the foot path, their colourful bonnets bobbing as they chattered like birds on their way to her door.

What now? she wondered, looking about to make sure the house was tidy before opening the door. When the ladies knocked, Jamie ran to fling it open. There stood old Mr. Eisan’s daughter, Mrs. Janet McCarthy, a formidable but tiny old woman, and behind her was her younger sister, Miss Elizabeth Eisan. Whatever did they want? Perhaps their father had sent them.

Jamie, Sarah said. Say good morning to the ladies.

Jamie responded by turning tail and running the length of the cabin into the pantry.

Well. Miss Eisan was affronted. With all her nieces and nephews, she should have known how children behaved at his age.

Please come in. Sarah put on her most hospitable manner in order to atone for her son’s rudeness.

The ladies removed their bonnets, and Mrs. McCarthy revealed her frilly day-cap. Then she looked around for somewhere to alight.

Perhaps we could sit at the table, Sarah suggested, pulling out the bench.

Mrs. McCarthy stared at the cane chairs before the fire, and then at her hostess. Sarah, understanding that she wished to sit on one of them, moved one to the end of the table.

Would you like to sit on the other one, Miss Eisan?

I hope you don’t mind. I am too old to be sitting on the bench.

Sarah carried it to the other end of the table and Miss Eisan sat on it, her back straight and her hands folded as if in prayer in front of her.

What could she offer the ladies? She had no food.

May I offer you some tea? she asked, remembering the last crumbs in the canister.

Please, Miss Eisan started to say.

No, no... Mrs. McCarthy spoke at the same time. They frowned at each other.

We wouldn’t want you to go to any trouble, Mrs. Lawrence, Mrs. McCarthy said. I know you didn’t expect our visit.

It’s no trouble at all, Sarah said, going to put the kettle on the fire. Were they here to ask questions on behalf of their father? She went to the pantry to fetch the tea things. Stepping over Jamie, who was playing with a saucepan on the floor, she filled the teapot with the last tips and stems from the tea caddy. It was not the quality that the ladies would be used to, but it would have to do. Do you want to come and meet the ladies? she asked, hoping he would charm them into being nice. He shook his head vigorously.

Sarah briefly considered hiding in the pantry until the water boiled, but decided it would be rude to leave the ladies to their own devices for so long. So she went back reluctantly.

There, she said. The kettle will soon be boiling.

She sat down on the bench.

Now, Mrs. McCarthy began. My sister tells me that you owe our father money for the rent and that he came to visit you yesterday to ask for it, Mrs. Lawrence.

Evidently he hadn’t told them the real reason for his visit. She wouldn’t either. Yes, he visited me.

I hope you intend to pay him what you owe him. It’s not kind to take advantage of the elderly, you know.

I would assuredly pay him if I had the means, but I do not. I have applied to the parish for alms and hope to hear a positive response from them soon.

Yes, my husband Mr. McCarthy has apprised me of that fact. He is an elder of the parish, you know?

Sarah did not know this fact and it unsettled her.

What chance do you think you have of obtaining alms with your reputation?

What do you mean? Sarah’s hands were perspiring and her stomach was restless.

After your father died, your mother took in boarders.

Yes, that’s right. Mother was too proud to accept charity.

As they say, pride cometh before a fall. It is reputed that your mother was a fallen woman. Mrs. McCarthy sat back and smirked, seeming exceptionally proud of her wit.

Sarah had heard the rumours. The other children used to tease her all the time, though most of them hadn’t really understood what they were saying and Sarah had had only a vague idea herself. She would not believe the other children then and she would not answer this insinuation now. Her mother always provided for her. That was all that mattered. I think it is wrong of you to malign my mother to me, she said quietly.

The apple does not fall far from the tree, they say.

How dare you? What have I done to deserve a bad reputation? I am not taking in boarders, and I have applied to the church for charity in all humility.

It seems that you attended a picnic not three months after the death of your husband.

As this was not a question, she did not respond.

Do you consider that proper behaviour for a widow? Mrs. McCarthy finally asked.

I would gladly have foregone the pleasure of a picnic for myself, but I went for the happiness of my son.

You enjoyed the picnic yourself, Mrs. Lawrence, Mrs. McCarthy said. You did not wear black and you were seen smiling.

I have only one gown, she said. As to why I was smiling, perhaps someone said something amusing.

Miss Eisan said, You could have worn a black arm band, at the very least.

How could she explain to such fine ladies that even the cost of a strip of fabric was beyond her means?

Let me go bring in the tea things.

Sarah went back to the pantry where her son looked up and smiled. She placed her only two cups on a tray and found a small bowl for herself. Pouring a tiny quantity of milk in another bowl, she placed it on the tray with the cups and teapot. Then she carried it into the great