Champagne and Shackles

An imagined account of the merchant slave-ship, The Henrietta Marie

"The first object which saluted my eyes when I arrived on the coast, was the sea, and a slave ship, which was then riding at anchor, and waiting for its cargo. These filled me with astonishment, which was soon converted into terror, when I was carried on board. I

was immediately handled, and tossed up to see if I were sound, by some of the crew; and I was now persuaded that I had gotten into a world of bad spirits, and that they were going to kill me. Their complexions, too, differing so much from ours, their long hair, and the language they spoke (which was very different from any I had ever heard) united to confirm me in this belief. Indeed, such were the horrors of my views and fears at the moment, that, if ten thousand worlds had been my own, I would have freely parted with them all to have exchanged my condition with that of the meanest slave in my country. When I looked round the ship too, and saw a large furnace of copper boiling and a multitude of black people of every description chained together, everyone of their countenances expressing dejection and sorrow, I no longer doubted my fate; and quite over powered with horror and anguish, I fell motionless on the deck and fainted." from: The Interesting Life of Olaudah Equiano, or Gustavus Vassa, the African

(First published in London, 1789)

Henrietta Marie

At 87 years of age, Henrietta Marie could remember the tiniest details of her childhood and reflect on the overall tapestry of her life. That was her task now as she sat on her dark green porch swing, overlooking her rose garden. She had earned the right of contemplation. She kept her silver hair tied back in two braids, which she plaited every morning. Her blue-green eyes were still bright and focused. Henrietta preferred pale green dresses and wore a beige apron with a large pocket filled with a few tools for daily life: a thimble, needle and thread, a white handkerchief, and her worn, leather-covered journal. In the journal were tattered copies of the numerous newspaper articles Henrietta had written over the last three decades, under the penname of Henry Mariett since no article would ever have been published with a woman's signature. As Henry Mariett, no one had ever suspected her to be the author of the articles that had created such a stir in society and which gave her a sense of relief in having spoken her truth. Her story and strong unconventional views were told and no one would ever know the whole truth. She smiled inwardly at the consolation of the contradiction. Henrietta's mind was a windmill constantly turning over the gusts of change in her

long lifetime. She gave herself permission to go back to her earliest memory before the turn of the century in the 1700's when she was still a little girl living in England. Henrietta could remember the smell of the salt breezes from the ocean as she stood shivering on the shabby wooden pier while her father, in a drunken stupor, had flung the bottle of champagne on the bow of his recently completed pride and joy in the christening ceremony. The bell on the ship, newly cast and bearing the name The Henrietta Marie had been rung three times to commemorate the occasion. Her father, standing at the

helm, had announced proudly that his wooden ship was registered by that name in London and said that she was ready for her maiden voyage. The rigging of the three white masts was rattling with the wind as her father spoke, adding to the noise of the rambunctious crowd. Henrietta was a small thin girl and about five years old. The gray woolen shawl did little to prevent the chill from entering her small bones so she drew the thin shawl closer around her frail body. She could feel the coldness in her father's heart even as he reached down and lifted her for all to see. The ship was being named after her, the owner's only daughter, born after five sons, whom he treated with contempt and flogged at the least provocation. She shivered inwardly. Soft tears fell down her cheeks. Yet she attempted a sullen smile to please her father and the small crowd of sailors who had come to the ceremony only because they knew the captain would provide free liquor, an easy escape from the dreariness of their lives. The salt smell of the sea and the heavy smell of the men's breath and sweat mingled in Henrietta's memory. She had felt weak and dizzy Supper had been meager that night, a little brown bread and some cold potatoes, cooked

the day before, as her mother had been unable to rise from her bed and her father had let go of the family servants, claiming they were costing him too much money and he needed money to build the ship, that he said would make their fortune.

Henrietta's mother was too ill of consumption to go to the ceremony. Her coughing seemed to get louder and longer every day. Henrietta remembered covering her own ears when Mama went into her paroxysms. Mama was giving up, as the weariness of this world was too much for her. Six children and the harsh unpredictability of her husband's moods left little room for hope. Even at her young age, Henrietta sensed that her mother saw only grayness and knew that part of her mother's spirit had already left this earth. She had noticed that her father was spending less and less time at home. He had been gone for days at the time before the christening of The Henrietta Marie. When he did come home, he smelled of the "blasted bottle," as her mother called it. One particular evening he had stomped into the house, ranting and raving, because the fire had gone out and there was no wood for fuel. Not bothering to go out and buy wood for the household, he had roughly grabbed Henrietta under his arm and, without explanation, pushed her outside and closed the heavy wooden door behind them. Henrietta had looked into Mama's eyes for one brief moment before the door separated them, trying to silently reassure her that she would be alright. Henrietta felt the fear reflected like a mirror from her eyes into her mother's and back again. Her brothers hid in the recesses of the stone house. The wooden door had swung

back and forth in the stony silence as Henrietta and her father left the house. From her position on board The Henrietta Marie, Henrietta looked out at the sea and saw a white gull, dancing near the foamy waves calling softly amid the clamor. She decided to concentrate on the bird and pretend she was a gull. She let the bird fly deeply, forever etched into her mind and memory. The gull flew effortlessly then, gracefully and, with much focus, dove into the dark waters, emerging with a fish in its beak. It swallowed the fish quickly and the gull silently flew freely over the crowd, unknowing of the sorrowful significance of the scene, the naming of the newest merchant slaver, The Henrietta Marie. The pale girl, Henrietta Marie, envied the gull. How she would love to soar over the waters beyond the horizon, beyond the foamy waves to where the water appeared smooth and calm and the sun glistened with its yellow light illuminating the dark waters. She thought, "Someday I will follow the gull and feel the wind on my skin as I leave this place. I will grow a garden with yellow roses." A loud cry awakened Henrietta from her reverie. One unsteady sailor had fallen in the water and been roughly hauled out by his rowdy companions. Upon being rescued, he slugged the rescuer in the right eye and a fight ensued. Soon several of the sailors were assailing each other. Her father ignored the fighting, lifted Henrietta onto their wagon, shouted for the driver to take them home, and promptly fell asleep beside the driver, snoring loudly. Occasionally he would awaken to shout at his driver for hitting the bumps in the road. Then he would, just as quickly, fall back into a drunken slumber. Henrietta looked away from her father and watched the commotion on the streets.

Vendors were selling fruit, vegetables, and sausages from woven baskets. Children with soot-covered faces played in the gutters. An old man in tattered rags was huddled on a

doorstep. As she rode by, he reached out a skinny finger and pointed to her, smiling a toothless smile. She nodded at him and put her head down on the coarse straw in the back of the wagon where she rode behind her snoring father, immediately falling asleep. She dreamed that the old man was sitting in the bow of the ship, pointing his finger at her and screaming. road. Her father's shouted curses at the driver entered her dream, in which he was yelling angrily at the old man sitting in the bow of The Henrietta Marie, while his ship was filling with seawater and the sails were torn and broken. Black clouds and howling winds filled her dream world. The ship's bell rang over and over. Henrietta moaned softly. Then in her dream, she saw the white gull, glowing with light, soaring over the ship and landing on the yellow sand of a distant shore. The call of the gull was soft and sweet, echoing in her memory and eternally etched in her mind. She shuddered as she slept and the wagon rolled bumpily down the