Sworn for Mackinaw Read online

  “If not for my desire to see Mary and the children, it may well be the best play I could imagine, knowing your excitement for Friends Good Will. But I must confess two things”, William explained, hugging Mary with one arm while removing from her a basket laden with fresh bread with the other, “Your new captain is likely more excited than you, although regrettably, I cannot as yet control the wind.”

  After handshakes, excited laughter, introductions made to the crew of Contractor and invitations to the oarsmen Eckert provided with the small boat, Oliver agreed, “We do see some successive days this time of year with strong winds from the Northeast.”

  “Which combined with the current makes progress upriver difficult,” William added.

  Mary interjected, “We were just wondering how you were set for provisions…”

  Oliver completed, “… and if you could not sail to us, we would demonstrate the Detroit river is at least navigable in the other direction.”

  Quick action on Mary’s part saved her bonnet from blowing over the side as Contractor swung to its anchor. “William, I have baked some of your favorites,” she added excitedly. “Enough, I think, for you and the crew for a few meals until the wind changes. Why, just look what we have brought…” William lifted the covers from the baskets.

  The crew, much too long without home cooking, abandoned their by now monotonous duties to enjoy the sights and smells of real food. Oliver, already having witnessed Mary’s gifts and sampled each before they were packaged, instead focused his attention on a woman standing by the starboard shrouds. She stood as yet observing and not directly engaging in the welcomes. As a northeast gust blew strands of long dark hair unexpectedly across her face, causing her to glance down and raise one hand to sweep it once again back to underneath a red and black blanket wrapped around her in the evening breeze, Oliver grabbed Mary’s arm with some urgency, stopping her in mid-sentence. Without taking his gaze from the beautiful stranger, he dropped his voice and said, “William, pray, introduce us to all on deck, if you please.”

  William followed Oliver’s gaze, nodded slightly to Mary, smiled and took two strides from the centerline to the starboard shrouds. He opened his arms and the woman stepped forward, responding to his gesture. “My dear sister, Mary and Oliver, my friend, please meet my beloved companion, Bemose.”

  Mary, instantly sensing William’s joy, embraced Bemose, now smiling. Oliver, grinning, welcomed her to Detroit. Bemose, rather tall, very dark, with a slender build and engaging eyes, replied, “It pleases me greatly to finally meet at least some of William’s family and two of whom he holds so dear.”

  Oliver and Mary, whether the result of years of marriage or because the impression would have been universal, each were instantly struck with her poise, command of the language, and presence among them. Indeed, they sensed Bemose was as capable and confident as she was beautiful. Trying very hard not to let their surprise offend, Mary rescued the moment with a truth all women could understand, “My brother tells me near nothing of things that really matter, such as the obvious fact that his companion is both beautiful and well educated.” Bemose accepted the compliment having long ago realized William’s reluctance to speak of what he regarded as personal and of value to himself.

  William joked to all, “Why ruin a surprise announcing what is, in any event, so obvious?”

  Mary took Bemose’s arm and with pretended casualness began to walk the deck, beginning with “Tell me, how was your voyage…” Oliver and William read well the signal to leave the women to talk. They returned to business, knowing that they were not now welcome in the company of two women who between them comprised, in large part, their reasons for living.

  “This damned Nor’east wind has cost me two days,” complained William.

  Oliver nodded. “One of our oarsmen, a man who seems to study the sky as you do, pointed to the clearing skies and the shape of the clouds and suggested our fortunes my change early tomorrow,” Oliver suggested hopefully.

  William considered while gazing the western horizon, “I am hopeful as well that by tomorrow night we shall swing to our anchor with a southeast breeze. If well enough before dark, we shall weigh and put in to the dock before sunset.” William then smiled, “This little voyage from Frenchtown has been most of all hard upon my Mate.” Oliver looked puzzled and William explained, “He is as anxious as I to put into Detroit. At that moment, he becomes Master of Contractor!” William gestured toward the bow where a young man in a long coat stood sullenly at the capstan staring at the sky while devouring some of Mary’s biscuits.

  Oliver understood. “You shall have to invite him to dinner when you make Detroit. I suspect he will be in a better mood!”

  The men exchanged news of the past few days since William’s visit to inspect Friends Good Will. Oliver assured William he had already happily shifted to matters of business. William of course was concerned for progress on the ship and Oliver was pleased to call over the two oarsmen, also enjoying, perhaps to a greater extent than was polite, the food intended for the crew of Contractor. Still, their explanations of the decisions at hand—two matters of particular interest to William, having to do with the placement of interior nonstructural bulkheads—were helpful. William instantly expressed his preferences and directed them as needed until he could oversee the work personally.

  Soon enough, with the sun already too low, the wind abating just a bit though still funneling directly downriver, William expressed some concern for their late start back to Detroit.

  Oliver explained, “Eckert foresaw the hard pull back so arranged for horses to be staged in Compton’s cove. All we need to do is row crabwise to the near shore.”

  William was impressed. “This Eckert shows good sense. Assuming the wind will ever shift around more favorably, I will send our ship’s boat to retrieve his and tow it to Detroit with us.”

  Oliver exclaimed, “That is exactly what Eckert said you would do!”

  The women had come full circle around the deck to the entry port and hearing the men congratulate themselves on their foresight, Mary observed, “And yet not a one of you were bright enough to arrange for an extra horse.” The men’s puzzled look was met with the full explanation, “Bemose is going ashore with us, Oliver. William, be a dear and assist her with her bag, will you?” Bemose just smiled at the manner in which William’s sister seemed to arrange for things to be done upon William’s ship, as only a sister could.

  William met her eyes and saw by her smile she was comfortable, and it dawned upon him that she would certainly enjoy herself more ashore with Oliver and Mary than waiting out a Nor’Easter at anchor with Contractor’s by now surly crew. He replied, “Why of course, that makes perfect sense! With any luck, we will join tomorrow.”

  As goodbyes were made, the small boat was loaded, with less dunnage than downbound. They cast away and the now well fed oarsmen pulled for the near shore, slightly upwind, in a darkening chop as dusk descended. The wind abated seemingly only in the imagination of the most impatient.

  The following day dawned disappointingly grey, with the wind not having changed even a point. As the sun showed itself only at an obtuse angle before rising quickly behind thick clouds, Oliver gazed downriver as he walked through the southast gate, not really expecting to see Contractor at the dock. He was not mistaken. Indeed, the sloop was riding preisey where she had been for much too long, downriver. He wrapped his coat even tighter against the stronger wind outside the walls and briskly walked back to his home and study.

  As he entered the foyer, Mary and Bemose were departing from the kitchen out the back of the house. He was slighty relieved. With more quiet, the children being cared for by a cook and a servant, he would have time to come current with his inventories, accounts and cargo arrangements for Friends Good Will before going to the dry goods store. He, Mary and Bemose had talked until late in the night with Mary stating her intention of riding outside the walls to the north to the local native villages. Mary worked with th
e villagers of all races, assisting in the organization of the surrounding community as it grew. Problems such as clearing foliage, laying out streets, arranging for wells and sanitation, and planting crops in an organized fashion seemed as pressing to her, at least initially, as education and evangelism. Her life was full and busy and she enjoyed the progress and the direct betterment obvious in the lives of her neighbors.

  Now as she and Bemose traveled along the way and between stops and visits, Mary felt comfortable in approaching more personal topics after the conversations of the prior evening and tested the waters: “Tell me, how did you and William meet.”

  Bemose smiled. “William quite literally pulled me from the sea.” The statement brought the surprise Bemose expected and she continued. “I accepted an invitation, now more than five years ago, to be carried by a war canoe along the shore of Lake Huron, near the mouth of the St. Clair River, to a village no more distant than perhaps half a day. A squall about midday overturned our craft and after several hours of drifting further out to sea, many of those with me determined to swim to shore or succumb to exhaustion. I do not know how many made it back, but I thought it best to stay with some floating debris.” She thought for some seconds, then offered, “I overheard the crew on board speak of William’s courage in standing up to the Captain and insisting that he take me aboard and care for me.”

  Mary’s pride was evident and she asked if they had been together since. Bemose smiled, shook her head but added, “That day I was pulled from the waters was the start of a very long story. Within a week we were shipwrecked, William had broken his leg, but not before saving me a second time from the most wretched excuse for a Captain that William has ever encountered.”

  Mary grew concerned and asked, “The ship… was that the General Hope?” Bemose nodded. Mary gained a growing understanding. “William, I sense, is in, well, I know not if danger is the correct word, but he certainly has seemed more guarded ever since.”

  Bemose met her eyes, nodded and affirmed, “We both are, I think.”

  “However did he break his leg?”

  “When Hope ran aground, his leg was smashed by the gaff. I did not know it instantly, but soon saw he was lying on deck, immobile. I stayed with him as the waters swept up and over the deck. Upon reaching shore, I cared for him, just as the week before he did for me.”

  Mary sensed the answer to her next question, “And his shipmates?”

  Bemose explained, “William is very loyal to them, but as a result of his defending me to the Captain, he had no choice but to seek cover. We made our way through the forest, very slowly, and attended to a proper set for his injured leg. We came upon an Ojibwa village where I was known and we finished our recovery and were sheltered through that winter.

  Mary then wondered how it was that William lived in Philadelphia for some time in 1807, but felt that may be too many personal questions, so courteously changed the topic.

  After some hours of riding, walking, interacting with villagers outside the walls, both native and of French descent, Bemose turned to Mary as they rode down one of the few graded lanes. With sincerity, she said, “I have watched you. Your heart is pure; your intent is good. I see in your efforts an example of how all should live together. You are a good woman.” Her last words were a choked whisper.

  Mary was confused. “No… no, please, do not misunderstand. I took you to see the villages, our work, meet my friends and all of these people—not to impress you or seek your approval. Do not be concerned with stroking my vanity. I need your opinions. I need your help. I need to better understand, to be told how we are failing.”

  Bemose was silent, thoughtful and her eyes conveyed all that could not be said for the moment. She too was concerned, had no answers but had considered the same and… she was ashamed.

  Mary was almost desperate. “I see so much ignorance. Some of course you would expect and may be unavoidable with the differing languages, cultures and traditions. It pains me so much. I understand just enough to recognize every single day the unintended insults, the misunderstandings, that harden hearts. I fear most are not giving each other the chance we all deserve.” She was near to tears.

  Bemose stopped their horses, keeping Mary close as she listened to a truth that had been on the minds of so many and yet so rarely articulated.

  Mary continued, “Men like our men plan for the future, focusing upon material and development. I am far more concerned with peoples simply coming to live among each other too quickly, before each can be taught, before each can trust.” Mary confessed, choking back her emotion, “I fear what my husband so much looks forward to—our future.”

  After some distance, with Mary recovering her composure, Bemose turned her horse off the road, looked and gestured back to all she had toured with Mary. “Do not seek or suffer the opinions of those, like me, who have done nothing in comparison to your efforts. The bridge between people is anchored in their hearts. You are building those bridges. I am not, or rather, have not yet begun. I have no excuses. I suppose I did not know where to start. For that, perhaps, I need you.”

  Mary reached out, stroked her shoulder, took up her reins and started once again their slow walk back to the walled village of Detroit. They passed natives of three distinct tribes, two making camp, two families of mixed race, most probably French and Wyandotte, and American woodsmen and trappers. Some acknowledged Mary as a white European woman of some stature in the community. Bemose noted the respect shown Mary by those who knew her. At the same time, Mary silently registered the respect the natives expressed to her companion.

  Bemose continued, “You ask my opinions and I am ashamed I have not given thought enough to these problems to have as yet formed any. But I share your foreboding. It is time for me to think of these questions you raise and try to help you, try to help the people. If you will, give me some time, show me more and I will try to wash my shame with the sweat from my efforts.”

  Bemose was obviously rare among her own, intriguing to others and fluent in the languages Mary had for some years been trying to not so much master, but to simply acquire basic functionality. Mary sensed she was in the presence of someone very special.

  Oliver worked near to noon balancing accounts and inventories. He drafted letters for an agent in Buffalo with urgent and detailed instructions for advertising and binding cargoes. Contractor was to return to the east down the length of Lake Erie. He had as yet to total the costs of construction incurred with respect to Friends Good Will to date as well as those yet anticipated, and determine the charge for cargoes so to recoup his investment.

  He from time to time talked with men who owned ships but learned little from them. They gave the impression it was more intuitive than methodical or that it was common sense. Perhaps it was, but Oliver was of the belief that very little in life was as easy as it appeared. He trusted that his care, foresight and organization, as it had in the past, would permit him to avoid major pitfalls. So much, he admitted to himself, he made up as the days unfolded. Perhaps the trick was for as few people as possible to deduce his uncertainty. He sighed that there seemed to be far more theatre in merchant shipping than he would have ever expected.

  In terms of recouping his investment, he recalled a conversation, now months ago, with Eckert. Standing in the shed at the side of the yard amid a November sleeting, they had been inspecting what looked to him as the skeleton of a great beast, which had expired on its back with its ribcage revealed to the sky. Eckert had suggested that with the frames now erected he would of course one day begin sawing the lengths of planking, and would Oliver desire, “… salt shoveled ‘tween planks and ceiling?”

  Oliver was dumbfounded, “I have never witnessed salt shoveled on the ceilings of any structure; why ever would one suggest that as necessary on a ship? Besides, these are freshwater vessels; whatever has salt got to do with planks, lest one is plying the oceans?”

  Oliver smiled to himself at the memory as he walked out the front door to take his
lunch. He appreciated Eckert’s patience and restraint now more than he had at the time. “Mr. Williams, sir,” Eckert had smiled and respectfully replied, “ceiling on a ship is that layer of plank placed inboard of the frames, like lath is attached to the inside of studs to form a wall, with a cavity between outer and inner side. Ceiling is the second, inboard, layer of planks, not those in touch with the sea. The space between the inside and outside layer of planking has recently upon these sweet water seas been, on occasion, packed with salt.”

  Oliver absorbed all of this, then queried, “Whatever for?”

  Eckert explained, “Ships swimming in freshwater seem prone to rot much more quickly than one would expect. Some say that by packing salt amid the frames between planks and ceiling the ship lasts much longer.”

  Eckert offered more details, no doubt more than any businessman needed, in fact. While Eckert talked and demonstrated, Oliver, as all ship builders must, calculated in his mind whether his assumption on the cost of the ship and the revenues it would generate was realistic in light of this entirely new and critical information. He felt foolish having started the project while having no idea that freshwater craft were more prone to rot. This could lead to disaster. They continued to talk and Oliver modified the figures in his head, asking occasional questions such as seemed to irritate Eckert, “Where is the salt obtained, from the East?”

  “My heavens, no, sir,” replied Eckert, barely disguising his surprise. “Why right here near our own walls.” He continued, “Detroit, you know, has salt deposits and they are mined and transported at nominal cost. Still, we must shovel it ‘tween frames and we will add some cost for the labor as well.” Oliver thought, Tonnes of details; few answers.

  Eventually, it came down to that question asked so often by Oliver those first few months, “Mr. Eckert, pray, what do you think and recommend?”