The Right Hand Of The Father

Chapter 1

We’ll be making landfall within the hour,” Captain Morris said as he ran a hand down Alexander’s bare back and came to rest on his clothed rump. “You’ll need to be dressed.” 

Alexander just nodded and reached for his shirt, not meeting the other man’s eyes. Pulled it on rapidly and quickly tucked it in without unbuttoning his trousers. Reached for his vest and slipped it on. Then his coat.

“You’ll need to make sure the last of that paperwork is done as well boy,” Captain Morris muttered as he levered himself out of the bunk, still naked and uncaring. Scratched the black fuzz on his pale, flabby belly. “That was our agreement, wasn’t it? I wouldn’t make you sleep in the hold with the rest of the cargo and you’d handle the scribbling.”

“It’s already done.” Alexander moved over to the small desk built into the wall and picked up a packet of parchment that Captain Morris would need on landing. “I’ve even organized it. The manifest from St. Croix. The entries for the cargo lost,” Alexander swallowed as he thought of the broken bodies tossed over the side of the ship, the sharks trailing behind them. “The harbor surgeon’s sworn statement that the ship was free of the pox when it left St. Croix. The paperwork from your own ship’s surgeon to attest no one on board has a fever or spots. I even have the checklist prepared for the harbor clerk to compare to your manifest. The deeds of sale are in the leather satchel and they’re organized in the same order as the manifest. All you need to do is sign.” 

“And if the clerk in New Orleans tells me he prefers to sell the women and the men from separate markets?” Morris narrowed his eyes at him, still naked, standing unconcernedly in the middle of the cabin with his hands on his hips, blue eyes narrowed at Alexander. 

“He’ll need to create a separate manifest list after they’ve been inspected,” Alexander answered. “And he’ll sort the deeds. That’s the clerk’s job Captain, not yours.”

“You think that do you?”

“I know that,” Alexander retorted. “It was my job long enough in St. Croix before Stevens and Hadley fell into debt and sold their ships.”

“And decided to sell you on,” Morris muttered and Alexander couldn’t help flinching at the casual way the other man said it.

Sold you on. As if he were nothing more than a nuisance to be rid of now that they were no longer making a profit. There were debts to be paid and Mister Neddy’s school fees in Boston and two girls to fund dowry’s for and Master Stevens had debts and since the shipping business had shuttered the only choices he had in respect to Alexander were to push him into the cane fields on sell him on to cover his debts.
He’d done three months in the fields. Lived in the same huts as the other slaves as they stared at him, whispered and snickered about the fancy house boy sent out to chop cane. Teased that he didn’t smell like Mister Neddy’s cologne anymore.

Then Master Stevens had called Alexander into his office. Grimaced as he took in the dirt and the sweat and the stench wafting off him from sixteen hour days in the cane. Up before the dawn and working nonstop through the heat of the day and then until the sun had set and it was too dark to see enough to chop.

“I have found a new opportunity for you,” Master Stevens announced. “A solution for both of our problems. A position that will play to your strengths and will also clear one of my debts.”

Alexander hadn’t said anything. Hadn’t known what to say. He wasn’t a slave. Legally at least. He’d been a bondservant. He only had four years left to pay off the last of the debt his mother had left him with. Eleven years in service to finish her indenture. He’d served seven. Until the last three months, all of them had been as a shipping clerk on the docks.