Chapter 28: With Pain Came Rebellion

Early June 1854

Hope glanced at her children as they sprinted past the living room.

Without greeting her, they rushed from sight and bounded up the stairs. A few minutes later, James entered the house as well.

“Hope?” he questioned upon noticing her distant gaze. She didn’t respond, just continued staring through him, the sight of her children running past playing and replaying over and over in her mind.

Suddenly, James appeared in front of her. He broke through the image, kneeling in front of her to look up at her face.

“Tell me what is going on inside your mind. Is it the children?”

“They don’t notice or regard me.” Her voice was void of feeling, just stating a fact in a dead tone. “They blame me. They blame us. But they can’t blame him anymore, since he is dead, so they blame it on me . . .” She started rambling, tears flooding and emotion finally bleeding through into her speech, “. . . it kills me knowing that I have lost my husband, I have lost my children as well, we are—”

“Hope, stop.” He grabbed her hands. “They will come around. They will work through all their hatred and sorrow, and then you’ll be a true family again.”

September 27, 1854

Thomas Crawford readjusted his grasp on the raft. The salty water drenched his clothes and burned on his lips. He focused his eyes, scanning to the right side of the raft, desperately searching for his younger friend.

Finally, the blonde mass of hair, matted to a strong face, met his eyes and he breathed a sigh of relief. The young man, by the name of Henry Price, caught his eye and smiled—resembling a grimace—at him.

They had been afloat for what had felt like days, yet Thomas knew it to be only a few hours. He wondered what happened to the Arctic and how many casualties were suffered.

A twinge of hatred rose in his soul for the cowards that rushed to save their own hides, which resulted in the loss of many who were much more vulnerable. It took great effort and pain for him and Henry to push away from the crowds around the lifeboats. After the captain’s first order for a raft to be constructed, he and Henry rushed to create a small raft of their own.

Both of them were used to the fear of lingering death, used to the assailing adrenaline that would follow the initial shock. All their adventures throughout the world had made them at peace with death.

It was this that helped them construct a raft in silence and peace, away from the hubbub of the rest of the cowards.

It was Henry’s doing to go around picking out women and children to save. Thomas did not mind, but it was this that had resulted in their raft being overthrown with many frightened souls. He attempted, and so did Henry, to save those who couldn’t hold on, as they both would dive in after those who lost their grip and started sinking.

Neither men were in spirits to continue hanging on, nor for diving in after those who would suddenly lose their hold. Yet, they continued at this rate, realizing that their only rescue would be a passing ship . . . if such a miracle would happen to occur in their case.

December 15, 1854

“Anna, could we discuss this, please?” William pleaded, rushing after her. The chill hit him, but he kept up his stride, ignoring the cold and that he forgot his jacket inside.

“I am not ready to marry and settle down,” she spat out, the moment he fell in step with her. “We aren’t going to discuss it; my answer is ‘no.’ I have this new adventure ahead of me, and I truly wish to visit my cousins at least once.”

“We can do it together! We can get married, and then set off to Australia. I can meet part of your family, and after our visit, we can return.”

“You are going to leave your practice hanging for who knows how long: a year? Two years? I don’t plan on visiting for a week and then returning.” Her tone was bitter as she desperately tried to cover up her uncertainty.

She truly wished to marry William but was unsettled by the suddenness of his proposal. Her cousin, a much older woman who had recently settled in Australia, pleaded for her to come, and visit. It would be a long journey, but she wanted to step onto different soil for a bit, before making the final decision of whether or not she should marry William.

“Anna, I love you! If I have to bid my other dreams farewell, I will do that, as long as I can be with you.” She halted, taking a steadying breath before facing him.

“William, I am leaving for Melbourne on the Guiding Star, and I’m not leaving with you. When I get back, I’ll give you my answer.” She forced a smile onto her lips, magically powering up enthusiasm from the deep chasm within.

March 12, 1855

Oliver threw down his copy of the newspaper, disregarding his name underneath the front-page headline. He knew what he wrote he remembered every single word and line of his report on ‘Bill the Butcher’s’ death and funeral.

Diana entered the room, placing the silver tray on the table. She smiled at the young man as he bustled toward her to take his seat.

“You are restless,” was her only comment as she handed him his cup of coffee.

“You are very observant, Aunt Di. You are correct.” He smiled weakly, trying to sort out his thoughts and inform her of what he considered best.

“Oliver, I have come to think that I was granted three sons in this life. Owen: though not of my blood, I raised him with every grain of love that a mother can feel. My son with Tyler, Chadwick, I wasn’t able to raise and see him grow into a young man. You—I have seen you grow from a young boy into a man, and you have become like a third son to me. It is because of that I have grown so attentive toward you, and because of that, I am aware that you have something to inform me of. Please,” she encouraged, “don’t hesitate to tell me.”

“I have reached greater heights than I thought possible for my age,” he fiddled with his fingers around the cup. “Having my book published—it is a dream come true. But I feel so uncertain and tumultuous of late. Owen is gone, Hope is broken, the twins are messed up, and . . . I just feel lost. I feel as if I am sailing without a set course.

“I am thinking,” he took a deep breath, “of breaking free from New York for a while.”

“Where do you want to go, Oliver?” Diana asked calmly, albeit nervously.

“I think I want to visit Texas . . . what used to be my father’s homestead, perhaps. And I was thinking, Aunt Di, that I want you to come with me.”

“Me?” She chuckled softly. “Where did this idea come from?”

“I want to be able to take care of you; I promised myself I would do that. Also, I think it would do both of us much good to break free from this city. Just think about it, Aunt Di. The Texas air will be very refreshing and different from what we are used to ."

May 1855

Dear Mrs. Farragut,

After many months, nay, an entire year, of mourning Randolph, I have finally come to the point where I could write to you, without crumbling into a heap of despair. Much has happened since Randolph’s burial.

Frannie, never having known any other father, has felt Randolph’s loss most acutely. I have mourned a husband before, and so has May mourned a father. Frannie has never known the loss of a father.

I write to inform you of a new hope for us, Mother Farragut. It is this new ‘hope’ that might also result in us growing apart, never to communicate again, for the only thing that connected us was Randolph, and he is with us no more.

Late December of last year, a certain gentleman, by the name of Thomas Crawford, arrived in our town. He is an adventurous man, but wealthy and with a good heart.

With him, he brought the son of his late friend. The young man is called Henry Price. It seems that these men were present at the collision of the Arctic and the Vesta– not just that, madam, but it was your husband whose ship happened to pass by their raft and who saved them and the others clinging on. Both men speak very warmly of your husband, I must say.

I write to inform you that May, though still young, has fallen in love and married Henry Price last month. Frannie and I are making plans to depart for England; though neither of us have any relations there, we have decided that it might offer us a new beginning. It will also allow for me to stay close to my eldest, since her husband and she are to head for England next month.

Farewell, Mother Farragut, and I pray blessings upon you.

Your former daughter, albeit in-law,

Roberta Hudson Farragut

Early June 1855

Dear Hope,

Darling, having pondered your situation and distress, as well as the twins’ rebellion in regarding you as their mother, I think I may have produced a solution.

If it would be possible for you and James to send them, I think it would do everybody good if they came to stay with me for the present time. At least for a year’s time or so.

I could use the company, and, at times, I feel completely alone. Of course, I am very much alone practically every day. I could use the liveliness of the two, and I think they would appreciate a change of scenery.

Your father is still out at sea, and I promise that the children will be of no disturbance to me. They are very welcome here, and I think the coast will do them well. At least consider the matter, before giving up on my suggestion.

Your Loving Mother Always,

Flower Farragut

October 31, 1855

The Guiding Star, having left New York’s harbor for Melbourne on the ninth of January of this year, has not been heard of since the Mercury’s sighting of it on the fifteenth of the month following.

With no recent news, or sightings, it is hereby declared that the ‘Guiding Star’ has perished with crew, cargo, and all her passengers.

William dropped the newspaper, dread setting in. For the past few months, he had been plowing through his days, hoping, praying, and waiting for news. He wished that Anna would appear in front of him again, laughingly informing him that she never left for Australia; but no news of her came, nor of the clipper she departed on. No news, until today.

Black on white, it stated that his darling Anna had disappeared with no trace. She was gone, presumed dead, but possibly still alive. Who knew?

All that he was certain of was that he couldn’t live without her; he couldn’t continue living like this if she never were to come back to him.

December 15, 1855

“Thank you, Samuel.” Flower smiled up at him, as he placed the letters in front of her. He smiled in response before quitting the room, off to find his sister.

Though Maria and Samuel’s opinion on their mother hadn’t improved much, both of them seemed to brighten up again, away from her presence.

Flower appreciated having them close. Both proved to be helpful when she needed something from them; it had turned into them taking care of her, instead of her taking care of them. More than that, she appreciated their youthful exuberance that brightened up the house.

She turned her attention to the first letter, slowly opening it up, her mind not yet prepared for the shock to follow.

Dearest Mother,

As you are aware, I have been very distressed since the loss of my light and love, Anna. I cannot continue like this. I am not going to inform you of my plans. I—I am merely informing you of my wish and plan to disappear as my beloved did.

Forevermore your son,

William

January 1856

James,

I am very much delighted to hear of Hope’s slow recovery to being the person she used to be. Though nobody seems to be aware of what has been acting as her inspiration for life as of late, I hope that this will last until she is able to live again.

The news from Aunt Flower certainly isn’t very hopeful . . . I truly hoped that the twins would improve under her care, but I fear that they might be past the point of return to being the children they once were.

I am very much intrigued to hear that Samuel has this passionate interest in music now. I remember that he and Maria enjoyed singing together as children. You wrote that Samuel has taken up the accordion – though I am not familiar with the instrument, I am very much looking forward to our future family visit where I will urge Samuel to play for me.

Upon your inquiry on how we are doing: Aunt Di and I have found Texas quite diverting.

As soon as winter comes to an end, we return to New York. Though the change in scenery was good for both of us, I know of and respect Aunt Di’s wish to be close to the city that she is to be attached to for the rest of her life.

Your brother,

Oliver Kincade

Early June 1856

“To think that John Brown and his company killed five men in such a brutal manner." Diana lamented.

The family was gathered in Flower’s home. Diana and Oliver had traveled from New York, and James and Hope from the Colorado area. The twins were delighted to see their grandmother and Oliver, even James, again, but had greeted their mother coolly.

It sank her hopes of gaining their trust and love again, but she chose to remain patient. Time would bring healing.

“I agree that they were rash and cruel, but they were standing for what they believed to be true,” Hope replied to her mother-in-law’s comment.

“What?” Samuel spoke, finally facing his mother. “Are you condoning the violent murder of five men, just because they were for slavery and the murderers were abolitionists?”

“Samuel, slavery has been a great evil that has plagued us for many years,” Hope began, but was interrupted by her son.

“Slavery has been with this world for centuries. Possibly, if it weren’t for that, we wouldn’t have gotten as far as we have.”

“Imagine the fate of so many men, if it weren’t for their possession of slaves to aid and help,” Maria suddenly chimed in, staunchly supporting her brother.

Silence fell over the room and all eyes turned to the twins who were openly rebelling against their mother’s opinion. She seemed flustered, but also furious.

“Let’s not forget who killed your father,” she shivered in anger.

“Father would still be here with us today, if...” Maria began, and her brother completed the thought: “... he had just kept his nose out of that whole slave and owner situation.”

“Samuel and Maria!” Hope rose from her seat, visibly rattled. Both her children rose as well, straightening themselves confidently.

“We stand for what we stand for. It is our right to choose what we believe in and what we would fight for.” Maria’s eyes glowed indignantly. “If those slaves knew their place and stayed in it, our father would never have run to get the story, and he would still be here today.”

“Maria,” Oliver ventured, “you two are still grieving, but hatred doesn’t help you. Both of you will end up losing everybody that cares for you; think carefully before you finalize your opinion on this matter. “What is now so firmly decided upon will still be my choice in the future.” Samuel’s arms wrapped protectively around his sister’s shoulders, before he continued, “We made our decision, and we will have consequences because of it. But so is life. We all must choose and pay for what we do. It is our fate, and we have chosen these over others.”

Written By: GLD