Page 22 of Master of Paradise
"Tomorrow," Nick answered with a grin.
Bernard nodded. "Looks mighty good."
"I find that nothing on Earth compares toriding my own acres."
"Well, I used to feel that way, but nowthat's exactly how I feel about Congress. Frankly, I miss Richmond.I'm thinking of returning for a short spell this winter."
"When your crops in, will you take it toCharleston or will your overseer do all that?"
"Hell, no need to go to that trouble. Beforeit's picked this place and yours will have attracted more than oneagent-broker."
"You mean sell the crop to an agent for acommission?" Nick asked.
"You can be sure they earn it. They have tofreight it, store it, and sell it. Saves a lot of work."
"I don't mind the work. I'm taking my own into sell. Tell you what, Bernard, I'll act as your agent. I'll matchany price offered by the brokers, but I'll keep any profits," hewarned.
Bernard looked at him and grinned. He admiredNick tremendously. Admired his ruthless singleness of purpose. "Iknow you intend to plow your profits into more land, and that'sgood, but don't spend any capital on buying more slaves, Nick.They're pricey right now, and I have hands who'll sit idle allwinter. I'll lend you men for land clearing and draining."
"I'll pay you wages for them, Bernard. Youare too generous."
"I won't hear of it. You'll repay me in waysaplenty. When I go up to Richmond you can stay here and watch overthe ladies for me. You know I have my eye on you as a prospectiveson-in-law." He chuckled. "When you're rich of course."
Nicholas actually enjoyed picking his cottonand he could see his men also took pride in gathering the fruits oftheir labor. It seemed impossible that those tiny green shoots theyhad nursed along in the spring had developed such large strong bolsthat had swelled and suddenly burst open into acres and acres ofdazzling whiteness. They stayed at it from dawn until the lastlight faded from the skies.
As Nicholas began to see how much cotton theyhad produced, and added what he realized the Jackson Plantationwould produce, he began to think about transporting it toCharleston. Such a bulky crop would entail endless wagon trips, sohe decided to float it up to town. He had endless stacks of logsfrom land clearing, and all they needed was lashing together tomake rafts or flat barges. Vulcan and Lance were already in acontest to see who could pick more cotton in a day, so he left themat it and chose Jason and Luke to fashion the rafts.
When the two crops were finally baled andloaded they filled an incredible thirty barges. Nick made twoflotillas, of fifteen rafts each.
Bernard and all his people came out to viewsuch a unique sight, and Amanda rode with them five miles down theriverbank on her newly acquired filly,Miss Louise.
Bernard Jackson shook his head. In Nick'scase, ignorance had been an ally. If he had known the hazards ofcotton-- the weevils and the bol worms, and the damp from too muchrain that rotted the bols from the inside, it could have been adeterrent to his success. Bernard decided not to mention thetobacco with the blue mold that crept over its leaves, rendering ituseless.
From his long hours of labor beneath theburning sun, Nicholas was bronzed and hardened. His muscles weretaut, his belly flat. He carried not one ounce of superfluousflesh, yet you could not describe him as lean. His body was morepowerful that that of any prime field hand and he felt that therewas nothing on Earth that he could not accomplish. His black hair,so crisp and curly, had gown long on his neck, curling over hisshirt collar in the fashion of Southern men, but he was still cleanshaven. He had not yet effected the long mustaches of his peergroup. His blue-green eyes were startling in the dark face, andwhen he laughed the whiteness of his teeth contrasted sharply withhis bronzed skin.
In Charleston he captured every eye andturned a few heads as well. Since Brute had been the natural leaderof his men, he had appointed him foreman long ago. He bade his mento rest and eat the provisions they had brought, but above allguard the cargo while he departed the docks for the Cotton Exchangeto find out about prices. He hope to avoid the expense ofwarehousing; he also intended to cut out as many middlemen aspossible.
Charleston that late afternoon reached atemperature of 105 degrees. It was the hottest Nicholas had everbeen in his life. The air was humid and hung still, with no hint ofa breeze anywhere. His back, under his shirt ran wetly and made himthink of a bath in the little house on Tradd Street.
When he entered the Exchange, cotton wasgoing for thirty-nine dollars a bale. He couldn't believe it.Bernard had been happy to sell at twenty-five. Before Nick turnedto leave, the price had risen to forty dollars. When he arrivedback at the docks, he saw that runners who went from ships to theCotton Exchange all day long, had carried the news ahead of him.Forty dollars and rising!
Nicholas boarded a clipper from Liverpool andmade the captain and cargo officer a deal. He offered them hiscotton at forty dollars, but he'd also load it aboard for them thisevening. "If you come out on deck, you can see it waiting atdockside."
"What's the catch?" asked his fellowEnglishman.
"The draft you pay me with will have tostipulate gold. I don't deal in paper money."
"How about Sterling, British?"
"Good enough. Gold, silver, all the same tome."
"Tell you what, if you can get us a custom'sclearance so we can sail by midnight, it's a deal."
Nicholas strode up to the customs shed at theend of the wharf and singled out a harassed-looking custom'sofficer. He put ten silver dollars into the man's hand and pointedhim in the direction of theLady Mersey.
Each bale was labeled ParadisePlantation.
"Paradise, eh?" commented the custom'sofficer as he verified the bill of lading.
