When Cotton Was King: A Novel About Slavery and Civil War

By Alvin S. Yusin

It is 1795 in Williamsburg, Virginia, as the son of an alcoholic father and bastard mother grows up in poverty. Still, little Andrew Blackstone is resolute to make something of his life-and does years later when he acquires a fortune through illegal slave trade. Determined to achieve economic and social d

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookTrail Publishing
• Release date: Apr 11, 2022
• ISBN: 9781637678121

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Copyright © 2022 Alvin S. Yusin

Paperback: 978-1-63767-813-8

eBook: 978-1-63767-812-1

Library of Congress Control Number: 2022905019

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

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Acknowledgements

Agencies whose interest and consideration helped develop this novel

American Heritage Publications

House Divided Project— Dickinson College

Library of Congress

University of Chicago Library Special Collection

United States Capitol Historical Society

National Park Service

Dedicated to Count Leo Tolstoi whose novel War and Peace inspired this work

Contents

Acknowledgements

Major Families and their Relationships

Part I

The Antebellum Years

Chapter 1:   The Blackstones

Chapter 2:   Forgive and Forget - Never

Chapter 3:   The Kind Widow

Chapter 4:   Lydia’s Confession

Chapter 5:   The Widow’s Idea

Chapter 6:   Murdock

Chapter 7:   Change of Plan

Chapter 8:   King Cotton

Chapter 9:   Andrew The Apprentice

Chapter 10:   Bad News

Chapter 11:   How to Earn a Fortune

Chapter 12:   La Nouvelle Orleans

Chapter 13:   A Father’s Folly

Chapter 14:   Jeffersonian Expansion

Chapter 15:   When the Rains Came

Chapter 16:   Andrew Takes Control

Chapter 17:   Tea with Angelique

Chapter 18:   Andrew and the General

Chapter 19:   Going Home

Chapter 20:   A Moment of Peace

Chapter 21:   Lawyer Lawrence

Chapter 22:   Apple Hill Plantation

Chapter 23:   Who are the Sandcastles?

Chapter 24:   Who Shall I Marry?

Chapter 25:   Vengeance Is Mine

Chapter 26:   How to Wreak Vengeance

Chapter 27:   The Dubious Savior

Chapter 28:   Painful Realization

Chapter 29:   Black Stone Heart

Chapter 30:   The Wellworths

Chapter 31:   Memories of Momma Jo

Chapter 32:   The Past Remembered

Chapter 33:   The Clubfooted Child

Chapter 34:   An Unfortunate Marriage

Chapter 35:   I Have Two Mommas

Chapter 36:   Andrew’s Triumph

Chapter 37:   Twins!

Chapter 38:   Rebecca’s Realization

Chapter 39:   Andrew’s Deception

Chapter 40:   Healing Old Wounds

Chapter 41:   A Glimmer of Hope

Chapter 42:   Momma Jo’s Sons

Chapter 43:   The Sons’ Story

Chapter 44:   Cruelty Revealed

Chapter 45:   Michael’s Story

Chapter 46:   Future Plans

Chapter 47:   What Denmark Vesey Did

Chapter 48:   And The Years Pass

Chapter 49:   Jackson

Chapter 50:   Arabella

Chapter 51:   The Changing Times

Chapter 52:   Joseph

Chapter 53:   Love And Marriage

Chapter 54:   Wedding at Apple Hill

Chapter 55:   Jackson In Love

Chapter 56:   The Beales

Chapter 57:   Jackson Rebels

Chapter 58:   An Unusual Invitation

Chapter 59:   Cousin Susan

Chapter 60:   A New Direction

Chapter 61:   Dinner At Cousin Susan’s

Chapter 62:   Where to Hide Them?

Chapter 63:   Rebecca and the Slave Patrol

Chapter 64:   President Polk’s War

Chapter 65:   Death Comes To Apple Hill

Chapter 66:   Truth and its Consequences

Chapter 67:   An Unexpected Encounter

Chapter 68:   How To Explain It All

Chapter 69:   The New Andrew

Chapter 70:   A Comforting Resolution

Chapter 71:   The Children

Chapter 72:   What Happens To Property!

Chapter 73:   Michael

Chapter 74:   Fight For Life

Chapter 75:   The Awakening

Chapter 76:   Learning To Hate

Chapter 77:   Hatred

Chapter 78:   Michael’s Revenge

Chapter 79:   The Avenger Strikes

Chapter 80:   A Wayward Brother

Chapter 81:   The Prelude Years

Chapter 82:   The Blackstone Grandchildren

Chapter 83:   Changing Times and Perspectives

Chapter 84:   Luke

Chapter 85:   Clayton Driscoll

Chapter 86:   Easter at Apple Hill

Chapter 87:   The Family Gathers

Chapter 88:   The Spectre of War

Chapter 89:   Robert’s Dilemma

Chapter 90:   Love In Bloom

Chapter 91:   The Dreaded Confrontation

Chapter 92:   A Slave’s Existence

Chapter 93:   Free at Last

Chapter 94:   A Father’s Pride

Chapter 95:   The New Physician

Chapter 96:   Another School?

Chapter 97:   Convention And Conflicts

Chapter 98:   John Brown’s Mantle

Chapter 99:   December Wedding

Chapter 100:   Explosion!

Chapter 101:   The Last Christmas

Part II

The War Years

Chapter 102:   Bull Run

Chapter 103:   That Woman

Chapter 104:   Parry And Thrust

Chapter 105:   Lydia’s Return To Georgia

Chapter 106:   Blockade Begins -New Orleans Falls

Chapter 107:   Robert’s Homecoming

Chapter 108:   Detour To Williamsburg

Chapter 109:   Treating The Wounded — A New Approach

Chapter 110:   The Attack

Chapter 111:   A Resolute Physician

Chapter 112:   Luke’s Visit

Chapter 113:   Robert In Love

Chapter 114:   The European Dilemna

Chapter 115:   Clayton’s Furlough

Chapter 116:   The New Lydia

Chapter 117:   What Changed Lydia

Chapter 118:   Welcome Charles Francis

Chapter 119:   Clayton Is Missing!

Chapter 120:   The Union Uplifted

Chapter 121:   Samuel Enlists

Chapter 122:   Robert’s New Assignment

Chapter 123:   Lieutenant Arliss

Chapter 124:   Mrs. Mims

Chapter 125:   Planning a New Hospital

Chapter 126:   A Visit to Hell

Chapter 127:   Colonel Sweet

Chapter 128:   Prayer and a Promise

Chapter 129:   A Plan For Escape

Chapter 130:   Robert Saves a Life

Chapter 131:   The Hospital Steward

Chapter 132:   An Unexpected Tragedy

Chapter 133:   The Trial Run

Chapter 134:   Mrs. Mims to the Rescue

Chapter 135:   A Careless Action

Chapter 136:   Escape

Chapter 137:   The Patient’s Progress

Chapter 138:   Wounds of War

Chapter 139:   How to Get Clayton Home

Chapter 140:   Robert’s Crisis

Chapter 141:   The Confrontation

Chapter 142:   The Colonel’s Maneuver

Chapter 143:   An Unexpected Meeting

Chapter 144:   An Unexpected Arrival

Chapter 145:   Death of a Giant

Chapter 146:   General Lee’s Perspective

Chapter 147:   Maggots and Flies

Chapter 148:   Cemetery Ridge

Chapter 149:   How are the Mighty Fallen

Chapter 150:   A Hospital for Officers

Chapter 151:   Luke

Chapter 152:   Best Laid Plans

Chapter 153:   Breaking God’s Heart

Chapter 154:   Going Home

Chapter 155:   A Pleasant Surprise

Chapter 156:   Grayson for President?

Chapter 157:   The Ideal Son-In-Law

Chapter 158:   Thanksgiving at Apple Hill

Chapter 159:   A Graveside Meeting

Chapter 160:   From Bad to Worse

Chapter 161:   Christmas Surprise

Chapter 162:   News From Washington

Chapter 163:   Luke and Clayton’s Plan

Chapter 164:   Lydia’s Reaction

Chapter 165:   Preparing for the Journey

Chapter 166:   The Human Perspective

Chapter 167:   At Scot’s Corner

Chapter 168:   What Should Not Be

Chapter 169:   One Week Before

Chapter 170:   At Home in Wiliamsburg

Chapter 171:   A Negro Soldier’s Life

Chapter 172:   The Major’s Plan

Chapter 173:   Preparing For General Sherman

Chapter 174:   Major Cavendish’s Experience

Chapter 175:   General Sherman’s Response

Chapter 176:   It Could Have Been Worse

Chapter 177:   The Captain’s Return

Chapter 178:   Night Raiders

Chapter 179:   The Siege Of Petersburg

Chapter 180:   The Truth Be Known

Chapter 181:   The Fate of Plantagenet Hall

Chapter 182:   General Pope to the Rescue

Chapter 183:   The Captain Fails

Chapter 184:   Kentucky

Chapter 185:   Avoiding Mother’s Ministrations

Chapter 186:   Robert’s Assignment

Chapter 187:   Getting Around the General

Chapter 188:   Sergeant Baines Intervenes

Chapter 189:   Letters From Home

Chapter 190:   Negro Horse Soldiers

Chapter 191:   The Attack on Saltville

Chapter 192:   Sanders Farm Overrun

Chapter 193:   Driving in the Fog

Chapter 194:   Robert at the Hospital

Chapter 195:   The Ferguson Gang

Chapter 196:   The Hospital Attacked

Chapter 197:   Murder and Mayhem

Chapter 198:   Touch and Go

Chapter 199:   A Visit to Samuel Black

Epilogue

About the Author

Major Families and their Relationships

I.The Blackstone Family – First Generation

A.Big Andrew Blackstone: Alcoholic father of Little Andrew [Andy]

B.Lydia Spencer Blackstone: Born out of wedlock, mother of Little Andrew. Wife of Big Andrew

II.The Blackstone Family – Subsequent generations

A.Andrew Blackstone [Little Andy grown up]: Family patriarch, son of Big Andrew Blackstone and Lydia Spencer Blackstone.

B.Jackson Blackstone: Son of Andrew Blackstone and Rebecca Wellworth

C.Arabella Blackstone: Daughter of Andrew Blackstone and Rebecca Wellworth

D.Luke Blackstone: Son of Jackson Blackstone and Madeline Beale

E.Lydia Blackstone: Daughter of Jackson Blackstone and Madeline Beale

F.Robert Sandcastle: Son of Arabella Blackstone and Joseph Sandcastle

III.The Sandcastle Family

A.Adam Sandcastle: Father of Joseph Sandcastle

B.William Sandcastle: Uncle of Joseph Sandcastle

C.Joseph Sandcastle: Husband of Arabella Blackstone and Father of Robert Sandcastle

IV.The Driscoll Family

A.Clara Driscoll: Mother of Clayton Driscoll

B.Clayton Driscoll: Husband of Lydia Blackstone

V.The Pope Family

A.Samuel Pope: Father of David and Ethan

B.Adela Pope; Samuel’s wife and mother of David and Ethan

C.David Pope: Husband of Susan Bradshaw

D.Ethan Pope: Brother of David Pope

VI.The Bradshaw Family

A.Susan Bradshaw: Cousin of Rebecca Wellworth; wife of David Pope

VII.The Howard Family

A.A. Josephine Howard [Momma Jo]; Former Wellworth slave, second mother to Rebecca Wellworth; Wife of Christopher Walsh, mother of Gabriel and Michael Howard.

B.B. Christopher Walsh: Husband of Momma Jo, father of Gabriel and Michael Howard.

C.C. Gabriel Howard: Former slave who owns a furniture company

D.D. Roseanne Bartlett Howard: Gabriel Howard’s wife

E.E. Michael Howard: Brother of Gabriel Howard, President of a Philadelphia bank

VIII.Black family

A.Samuel Black: Former Blackstone slave and childhood friend of Robert Sandcastle, lieutenant in Union Cavalry unit.

IX.Grayson Family

A.Elizabeth Grayson: Wife of Robert Sandcastle

B.Senator Owen Grayson: Father of Elizabeth Grayson

C.Prudence Grayson: Wife of Owen Grayson and mother of Elizabeth

X.The Townsend Family

A.Amelia Townsend: older cousin of Rebecca Wellworth, who took over her care after her mother’s death.

B.Rupert Townsend: Amelia Townsend’s husband.

XI.The Beale Family

A.John Beale: Woodsman, colleague of Andrew Blackstone in New Orleans

B.Constance Le Reynard Beale, Wife of John Beale, mother of Madeleine

C.Armand Le Reynard; Father of Constance

D.Madeleine Le Reynard Beale, daughter of Constance and John, wife of Jackson Blackstone

Part I

The Antebellum Years

A slave being auctioned, 1861.

Sketch by Thomas R. Davis, Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division Illus. in: Harper’s weekly, v. 5, no. 237, 1861 July 13, p. 442

Chapter 1

The Blackstones

Williamsburg, Virginia—1795

Andrew Blackstone, called Big Andrew by those who knew him, was a large man weighing well over two hundred pounds, with unruly black hair that grew in all directions, an equally unruly full black beard, thick arms and alarming blue eyes, their expression dulled by the alcohol he drank, When intoxicated, a frequent occurrence, heavy hands punched and slapped wife or child, as he screamed obscenities that need not be repeated. When tired of punching and slapping he attacked chairs and smaller tables, which were thrown against the wall. Last to feel the effects of his drunken rages were dishes, cups, and bowls placed in a hutch which stood next to the fireplace. They were thrown to the ground where they shattered into fragments. At such times Little Andrew and his mother would hide under the bed. Although terrified of his father, Little Andrew almost looked forward to his outbursts. It was only then that his mother would hold him in her arms.

Big Andrew always shame-faced and repentant when he woke the next day in more sober state would dress, leave the house, and return with replacements for whatever it was he had destroyed. As a rule he remained with them for two months, during which time there was food on the table—and games with Poppy during his sober periods. Money was plentiful. Little Andrew never understood how he came by the money. Where do you get all the money, Poppy? he would ask. Poppy always smiled, and gave the same reply Nothing to bother your head about, Andy.

Then one morning Little Andrew would wake up and Poppy would be gone—for days, months, one year on several occasions. Whatever money he left was spent. Fortunately, his mother excelled in sewing and embroidering, skills valued by wealthier women of Williamsburg, who hired her to mend their damaged finery or edge a tablecloth with an embroidered floral pattern. In this way she scratched out a meager income when Poppy was away. Having no place to leave Little Andrew, she brought him with her. He would play outside on pleasant days and in the barn when weather was inclement. The one room of the house into which he was allowed was the kitchen when provided a midday meal, eaten with Negro slaves.

One day Little Andrew walked into the dining room of Adela Pope’s home, a spacious room with floral papered walls, a bay window that opened onto a lovely flower garden and mahogany breakfronts filled with porcelain artifacts that stood against the walls. A large rectangular mahogany table took up much of the room’s space. Two crystal chandeliers hung over the table. Sunbeams streaming through the bay window struck their crystal prisms shattering them into a thousand brightly colored fragments. This spectrum of color caught his eye. He didn’t see two women enter the room: Adela Pope, mistress of the house and Amelia Townsend. You’re not allowed in here! Mrs. Pope snapped. Get to the kitchen where you belong.

Her voice startled him, and he swore an oath he heard Poppy use on many an occasion. That oath prompted Adela Pope’s derogatory remarks, remarks Little Andrew would never forget…or forgive

Chapter 2

Forgive and Forget - Never

So distraught was Little Andrew that he spent the afternoon sobbing behind the barn. Although seven years of age, he appeared younger: Pleasant features, tousled dark hair, soft full lips, and wide blue eyes that held a look of innocence and wonder, giving him an angelic appearance…a deception Little Andrew used to his advantage, as his behavior was far from angelic. He was born with a defiant nature, expressed in tricks played upon his neighbors. Blessed with a thin and wiry frame promoting rapid movement, he was long gone well before his pranks were discovered.

However, he could not run from Adela Pope’s words, which reverberated in his head, each recurrent memory producing a new flow of tears. His mother commented on his red eyes on their way home.

Am I trash, Momma, white trash? he asked quietly.

What! Lydia Blackstone exclaimed, dull grey eyes, usually empty of expression, opening wide with amazement.

Trash is garbage! he cried in a terror-filled voice. Everyone throws garbage away.

With those words he began to sob, and Lydia Blackstone reached out to hold and comfort him.

How … where did you hear that? she asked.

From… Mrs.… Pope, he said, gulping down his sobs.

Why would she say such a thing? Lydia Blackstone asked softly.

Goin to the kitchen.., Little Andy explained. I got into another room. She came in so mad. I don’t know why! I was just lookin,’ and she yelled at me—‘Get out! ’ he said, mimicking her shrill angry voice. She made me mad. I wasn’t doing nothin’—just lookin at the colors. And I said something Poppy always says when he’s mad. She called me a nasty little boy. I don’t know what nasty is, but then she said I was white trash. I know what trash is and what you do with it.! I know that! The tears were forming, but he squelched them.

Oh, said his mother, concern in her eyes melting away as she let go her son, placing her hands at her sides. Did you use a bad word, Andy?

Just what Poppy says when he’s mad, Little Andrew said innocently, knowing full well he had used one of those cuss words his momma hated.

Poppy uses bad words, she said, furious with her son. You used a bad word, Andy. Bad words come out of the mouths of bad children.

Little Andrew was suddenly terrified. Then you’re gonna throw me away, Momma, he cried, and in spite of all his efforts, he began to sob once more.

No, Andy, I won’t throw you away. You’re not trash. You’re one of God’s good children. Good children never use bad words. Remember what the Bible says. Lord Jesus loves all good children, not bad ones. But He’s happy to love any bad child who asks for His forgiveness. Tonight, Andy, you must ask our Lord to forgive you for using bad words.

His mother’s words stopped all tears and made him angrier, even as he lowered his eyes, pretending repentance, and responded: Yes, Momma, I’ll ask Lord Jesus to forgive me."

His momma was out when he went to bed. With the price of candles so high, she went to Widow Tredgold’s rooms to do her embroidering

Little Andrew didn’t ask Lord Jesus to forgive him when he said his prayers. He asked Lord Jesus to make bad things happen to Mrs. Pope. He climbed into bed, couldn’t sleep as memories of the day tumbled into mind.

I’ll never cry again, he said aloud, I swear it. I’ll get Mrs. Pope’s house. I’ll take it away… throw out the Popes, all of them, out in the street. I’ll give the house to Momma … she’ll be proud of me… she’ll love me … and we’ll live happily ever after.

He remembered those words, written in a book of children’s stories his mother used to teach him to read. In that book everyone lived happily ever after. How he envied those characters.

Yes, he murmured in a drowsy voice, maybe one day Momma, and Poppy, and me, we’ll all live happily ever after. And with that pleasant thought, he fell into a restful sleep.

Chapter 3

The Kind Widow

Matilda Tredgold never stopped thanking God for her widowhood. Whenever she heard the word widow, a sense of comfort came over her, as it brought to mind freedom from an abusive husband.

Cornelius Tredgold had been a violent man, who’d treated wife and two slaves equally. He owned a dry goods store, but spent much of his time at Raleigh Tavern drinking, gambling, and womanizing. He left running the store to his wife and slaves, returning home infrequently. At those times he helped himself to store receipts, let out whatever bilious humor drove him, and left. He was killed by runaway horses while crossing the street. His widow inherited the store along with her husband’s debts. She was forced to sell the slaves to pay off his creditors. She had no children and continued to run the store by herself. Despite her best efforts the store generated only enough income to provide her with basic necessities and a few extras.

She attended the same church as Lydia Blackstone. They shared a common misery as they both had abusive husbands, and this shared existence cemented a bond of friendship between them. Other church members were surprised to see any interaction between them given their antithetic backgrounds. Matilda Tredgold was descended from Wythe ancestors, respected members of the Williamsburg community. Lydia Blackstone, on the other hand, had a tainted background.

Their appearances were equally antithetic. Matilda Tredgold was a short plump woman with thick silver grey hair worn in a tight bun on the top of her head. Her eyes were sky blue, her lids wrinkled. Her nose was straight and small, her lips thick, an unfortunate attribute exaggerating her double chin. She wore gowns with floral design and full skirts that made her appear heavier than she was.

Lydia Spencer Blackstone’s appearance reflected hardships she had endured all her life. Although twenty – four years of age her appearance suggested a woman of forty. She was tall and gaunt, shuffling as she walked, body bent forward, shoulders rounded, breathing labored. Her straight blonde hair streaked with grey hung carelessly down her back. Her eyes, slate grey in color lacked expression. Her attire of grey, black, or dull brown homespun gowns complemented her appearance.

Shortly after Cornelius Tredgold’s death Lydia used up whatever money remained and could no longer pay her rent. The widow invited her to live in a small cabin her husband had constructed behind the store. It consisted of two rooms one of which had a stone fireplace and an oven for baking bread. As a rule the cabin’s occupants were Little Andrew and Lydia. However, Big Andrew would show up from time to time. The widow preferred Lydia deny him entry, but his abused wife could not bring herself to do so.

Chapter 4

Lydia’s Confession

One night the widow was awakened by loud cries and crashing noises.

Quickly realizing the noises came from the cabin, she put on her dressing gown, rushed down the stairs, grabbing a broom from the store to use as a weapon should it become necessary to defend herself. She was out the door seconds later, running down the lane as fast as her plump legs could carry her, muttering as she ran, The brute is home. I know it.

Indeed, Big Andrew was home. He’d arrived two hours earlier in a drunken and argumentative state. He began to smash crockery and throw furniture about the room. Destruction of personal goods was followed in short order by slapping and punching his wife. Widow Tredgold was infuriated by the scene that met her eye as she ran through the open door. There was a whimpering Little Andrew cowering in a corner, face buried in his hands. Lydia Blackstone had fallen to the ground in a dazed state, one eye blackened, her lip bleeding. Big Andrew was screaming obscenities. He stopped, a look of amazement on his face when he caught sight of the widow. The widow began to strike him with the broom. She struck him again and again, shouting, Get out you miserable drunk! Get out!

Surprise, fear, and complete disorientation stopped Big Andrew from turning on his attacker. Instead he lunged through the door, shouting and swearing as he made his way awkwardly down the lane. When he was out of sight, the widow took a sobbing Lydia Blackstone into her arms.

My poor dear, you can’t stay here. The brute may return. You and Andy will spend the night with me.

A few minutes later, Little Andrew and his mother were safely ensconced in the widow’s rooms above the store. Little Andrew fell asleep in a yellow rocking chair close by the fire as Widow Tredgold tended to his mother’s injuries.

It was the widow’s habit to keep brandy on hand for emergencies. She followed her ministrations with two glasses of brandy for each of them. Lydia Blackstone, unaccustomed to hard drink, punctuated her swallows with some coughing and spluttering. She had placed a book on the table when she picked up her glass. Widow Tredgold caught sight of it.

"Isn’t that a copy of Trelawney’s Stories For Children? My mother read it to me when I was a girl. Did your mother read it to you?"

Whether from brandy, the widow’s kindness… reference to her mother, or a combination of all three, Lydia Blackstone suddenly burst into tears and unleashed a flow of words that had been tightly constrained for many years. A birthday gift from mother. She died ... I was five… never knew my father. Mother never told me … …perhaps she didn’t know. The church placed me with Sofia Whitecliff, a seamstress. She died three years ago. I felt no grief, no sadness… nothing, yet I’d lived with her for eleven years. She never tired of telling me I was a bastard…how she sacrificed by taking me in… teaching me, a bastard, to sew, to read, write, do sums, but always that same word, bastard… bastard… She paused to suppress tears and sobs that threatened to burst forth…then continued in a quiet voice. I was fifteen when I met Andrew … twinkling blue eyes… chiseled features, dark hair… a pleasant form… He was a prince come to rescue me… like princes in Trelawney’s book… princes rescuing maidens from cruel step mothers who worked them to death. Andrew Blackstone was my prince… handsome, daring, exciting. He would save me from Sofia Whitecliff. She was working me to death. Andrew would take me away… a new world… new life where I would live happily ever after… Pregnant! she suddenly cried …at sixteen, I’m sure you knew it. Everyone in Williamsburg did.

Yes I knew. An unloved child taken advantage of by a scoundrel

The widow took Lydia in her arms and held her tightly.

How terrible for you! Neither one was capable of loving, That woman gave no love… only pain. Big Andrew was no different. But, my dear, you have a child, someone to love, someone who loves you. A wonderful opportunity to find the love you never had and could never give. You are so fortunate to have that child, that sweet boy.

Lydia stopped sobbing, regaining some control over her emotions. Big Andrew’s child… Big Andrew, not a prince… a brute… a drunk…He married me…Should I be grateful… I blame the child, Matilda, she said slowly. Had I not been pregnant…Had he died as he was born… so many do …My life would have been so different…

She stopped speaking. Her face reflected the most intense pain as she pressed her hands against her head. I am the most dreadful of God’s children, she cried in an anguished voice. What mother can harbor such feelings for her own child? But I do, so many terrible feelings, terrible thoughts, and I hear Sofia Whitecliff’s voice shrieking, ‘Just like your mother, a bastard bringing a bastard child into this world. Andrew and I married. My son is not a bastard. But in my heart of hearts, I don’t believe it. My heart tells me Andy is a bastard ...all of Williamsburg knows it and knows who the bastard’s father is. Big Andrew Blackstone, a violent drunk and ne’er-do-well, proper mate for a bastard wife and proper father for a bastard son.

With those words she let out a shriek. No, she cried, shaking her head violently, as if such movement would dislodge those painful thoughts thrusting them into some fiery pit to be consumed, never to haunt her again.

Whether from her outburst, the brandy or both, Lydia suddenly feeling exhausted almost fell into a chair next to the table and, as the alcohol’s effects took hold, laid her head down and quickly fell asleep.

Her cry had awakened Little Andrew.

Momma, Momma, he called in a fear-filled voice as he sat up and rubbed his eyes. Widow Tredgold stood transfixed with astonishment as she listened to Lydia Blackstone’s tirade. Little Andrew’s call for his mother restored her senses. She walked over to where he sat and stooped to pick him up. "You’re safe, Andy. Your momma had a bad dream, nothing more, just a bad dream.

Oh, he said drowsily.

She held him tightly and he snuggled into her as he began to fall asleep again. She sat down in the rocking chair, and slowly began to move to and fro, to and fro. Andy grew drowsier and drowsier. He put his arms around the widow as he whispered, I love you, Momma. I love you so much.

I love you, Andy, the widow responded. Little Andrew smiled and held onto the warmth of her body as he drifted off to sleep.

It was five days later that his momma came into the room to give him the news.

Poppy is dead!

Dead? Little Andrew whispered softly. Poppy is dead? Really dead? Are you sure?

Yes, she replied. I am sure.

Tears filled his eyes, tears Little Andrew tried to control, angry at himself when he was unable to do so. I swore, his mind cried out, never to cry, never to let anything or anyone hurt me."

And after only a few minutes his resolve won out. The tears dried up.

One year later he learned Poppy had broken into a warehouse and was killed by the owner.

Chapter 5

The Widow’s Idea

Matilda Tredgold began to treat him well—not that she’d ever treated him badly. But after that eventful night, and his father’s death, she began to treat him special. That was the word he coined to describe the change in her behavior. In the past she acknowledged his presence with a nod or short greeting, continuing with whatever it was she was doing. But now, should she catch sight of him, she would stop to smile and wave and offer a kind word. Should he come into her store, for whatever reason, she would provide him with a sweet as well as an inquiry into his activities that day. He began to spend more time with her, helping her organize shipments of produce. He preferred to remain with her rather than accompany his mother. One day, when his mother was away and he was seated on a closed barrel in the widow’s store, chewing a peppermint stick, he asked the widow a question: Why are you so nice to me, Ms Tredgold?

Because you’re a fine young man, Andy, she responded with a smile. If God had blessed me with a son, I would have wanted him to be like you.

Then you wouldn’t throw me away.

Throw you away? she repeated, astounded. Where do you get such ideas?

Little Andy shrugged. I don’t know. I just get ’em.

No one would ever throw you away, Andy, not a sweet boy like you.

What if I wasn’t sweet? Would you throw me away then?

No, Andy, she said softly, understanding. I wouldn’t throw you away even if you were a sour boy.

They both laughed. Little Andy continued to smile as he reflected on the widow’s joke and chewed his peppermint stick. He began to love the widow, love her very much. Then she did something that changed his life forever. She introduced his mother to Gilbert Murdock.

Chapter 6

Murdock

One year after Big Andrew Blackstone’s death, Widow Tredgold had an idea.

Matilda Tredgold’s cousin married a bank clerk named Gilbert Murdock. Her cousin died two years after the marriage. Her widower husband never remarried. He earned a reasonable income in the Williamsburg Bank. He would make an excellent husband for Lydia. First and foremost, he abhorred any and all who drank alcoholic beverages. He called such drinks Satan’s cider, and those who drank them "Satan’s spawn. He had no children. He would become the gentle loving father Andy never had. Motivated by the positive perspectives generated by her anticipated outcomes, she immediately arranged an introduction.

Gilbert Murdock was a gaunt and somber man—somber brown eyes, somber expression—and he never smiled. Black was the color he preferred and black was the color of his hair and closely cropped beard.

The religious convictions he and Lydia Blackstone shared formed a bond between them. Widow Tredgold was delighted when Lydia Blackstone told her about their engagement. Unfortunately her delight was short lived.

One week before the wedding, Gilbert Murdock dropped by her store. Lydia and Little Andrew were out, and business was slow. With no customers present she prepared tea, and the two sat down at a small table in the rear of the shop to drink it.

How fortunate for both of you, she said, referring to his impending marriage. Lydia is a fine woman, whose sewing skills will add to your income—and you, Cousin, will not only get a wife, but also a delightful boy for a son.

His response astounded her.

I am familiar with the circumstances of her birth and her son’s conception, he said coldly. Our Lord forgave Mary Magdalene and I have forgiven Lydia. She, herself, sought Our Lord’s forgiveness and has become a good Christian woman. Perhaps her birth and her indiscretion were His way of directing her to the way of life he wishes all his children to follow. As for the child, he too is marked, given the manner of his conception. He lacks humility and religious conviction. I know she has tried to instill them, as have the church fathers, but he continues his defiant and sinful ways. He is Lydia’s mistake. Once we marry I have a Christian duty to see that Andrew follows Our Lord’s directives and learns some trade. He has a way with figures, which will be useful for him in his adult life. I will begin his training at the bank. When the time is ripe I will arrange an apprenticeship for him in another city, where he can sharpen his skills.

Gilbert Murdock took his leave after his remarks.

Matilda Tredgold felt angry, then remorseful. His tone, his remarks, she said aloud. he’s not the father Andy needs—no love, no kindness. What did he call him? Lydia’s mistake—a mistake, that sweet lonely little boy, a mistake. I made a far greater mistake when I introduced him to Lydia.

They married.

The family moved to a small house Gilbert Murdock owned on Tenth Street. Within a year’s time the combined incomes of husband and wife permitted them to purchase a larger home closer to the bank. Little Andrew, thanked his new father when he decided to teach him banking skills. He knew such skills could be used to his advantage at some future time.

However, the true nature of their relationship was not as amicable as it appeared. Little Andrew resented his new father, who could never replace Poppy, and new father resented Little Andy, whom he regarded as an excessive burden.

My wife’s mistake, he repeated over and over again in private conversations. Still, he would continue, Little Andrew is Lydia’s child, and it is my Christian duty to care for him until he reaches an age when he can care for himself.

It was Gilbert Murdock’s hope to send his stepson off to a bank in another city when he reached a reasonable age, there to learn duties required of a bank clerk. However, that plan was never realized.

Chapter 7

Change of Plan

Seven years after his marriage to Lydia Gilbert Murdock altered his plan for Little Andrew.

Mathew Turner, owner of Turner Farms Plantation, was looking for someone to assist his plantation manager. It was the manager’s responsibility to take charge of the slaves, oversee planting and harvesting cotton, and keep plantation accounts. His present manager performed well in his handling of slaves and oversight of the planting, but had a difficult time managing plantation accounts. When Mr. Turner was transacting business in the bank he presented his problem to a fellow planter. Gilbert Murdock overheard him as an idea popped into mind.

Excuse me, Mister Turner, he said. I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation. I have a stepson, sir, he said, a personable and intelligent young man who has a way with figures. I had hoped to find him an apprenticeship that would utilize his talents. If you would be willing to take him on, I believe it would satisfy both our needs. He would be able to improve your accounting, and you could teach him skills required to manage a plantation—skills to earn his own way as an adult."

Mathew Turner mulled it over in his mind for a few minutes, then spoke thoughtfully: An apprentice isn’t a major expense. Good with figures, you say, he mused. He could do the accounting. He would relieve Bill Jack of that task. Mister Jack could then direct all his attention to the slaves. Yes, I believe it will suit both our needs.

Having resolved the matter of his stepson’s future, Gilbert Murdock no longer felt any obligation.

Andrew, no longer little at age fifteen, had developed into a muscular youth with broad shoulders, a deepening voice, and his father’s blue eyes and dark hair which he carefully combed. Not happy at home, he was only too willing to try his hand at prenticing, as he put it.

Andrew’s mother was pregnant, an unexpected pregnancy given her age. She found caring for two men plus the larger house extremely difficult, and offered no resistance to her husband’s plans for Andrew’s future. She barely kissed her son goodbye, feeling relief rather than sadness as he walked out the door.

Chapter 8

King Cotton

With invention of the cotton gin and the worldwide demand for cotton products, cotton reigned in Virginia—as elsewhere in the South—becoming a mainstay of the Southern economy. Other than tobacco, other crops were grown for individual family use.

The planting and harvesting of cotton required a large, cheap labor force—and slavery, disappearing in the industrialized North, where immigrant labor was plentiful, became entrenched in the South.

Turner Farms was a large cotton plantation on the James River. With 1,000 acres of fertile soil, well-suited to grow cotton, Mathew Turner’s plantation was one of the wealthiest on the river.

When Andrew saw Turner Farms for the first time he wondered how it had acquired its name. There were few, if any farm animals, no characteristic farm structures, and an absence of the usual farm crops. Instead, a large plantation house stood in the center of the cotton fields, its Doric columns suggesting a Greek temple rather than a house of any kind. The fields of cotton pods around it resembled a white sea rather than acres of growing plants.

They drove their buggy to the manager’s home. It was a pleasant cottage located near the slave quarters. When the manager arrived, Mr. Murdock shook his hand and introduced Andrew to him. He left his stepson after delivering a lengthy sermon on the importance of obedience, self-discipline, and total application to his work, feeling pleased with himself for having done his Christian duty, and relieved to be free of his wife’s mistake.

Chapter 9

Andrew The Apprentice

The manager was Bill Jack, a burly man with unkempt grey hair, a large paunch and narrow brown eyes who ate too much and drank even more. Yet total dissipation had softened his nature, and he was kind to Andrew, whom he took under his wing and protected, seeing in him the son he never had.

The term manager was misleading. Bill Jack managed very little. His primary management responsibility was to get maximum work out of plantation slaves for minimal cost. He did share his own view as to how those slaves should be treated with Andrew.

Negroes are property, he would say on more than one occasion, no different than cows and mules. You feed them, clothe them, work them, beat them when a good beating’s needed—and best of all, Andy, my boy, you bed their women. You bed them whenever you want. What they want don’t matter. All slaves are yours, Andy, to do with as you please. Of course you don’t bed cows and mules. That’s the difference," He then winked at Andrew as they both roared with laughter.

Andrew’s talent with figures was fully appreciated by Bill Jack. He was only too happy to put him in charge of keeping the accounts. It took Andrew about one month to realize how he could manipulate the figures to provide himself with extra cash.

Chapter 10

Bad News

Bill Jack gave Andrew a swig of corn whiskey before he told him.

Dead, Andy! Your momma’s dead! Childbirth took her, your little brother too. I’m sorry.

No tears fell from Andrew’s eyes when he heard the news. He had mastered the feelings that created them. They were buried, well out of sight and well out of mind.

He went to the funeral, said little to Gilbert Murdock and quickly returned to the plantation, taking with him only his mother’s book of children’s stories. He did visit Widow Tredgold, the one person for whom he had any affection.

I am sorry, Andy, the widow said, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief, sorry not only for Lydia’s passing, but for the whole marriage. I hoped Gilbert Murdock could provide a father’s love. He didn’t… your mother did love you, Andy. You must believe that. Sometimes love is hard to show when life circumstances are painful and difficult. But love was always there. It’s important for you to know that.

Her voice broke, and she wept softly.

Don’t upset yourself, Ms. Tredgold, he said. I know she tried. It was hard for her. And Mister Murdock, he found a good position for me. One day I’ll own my own plantation. You’ll see.

The Widow Tredgold smiled. Yes, Andy, I’m sure you’ll do well. …

When Andrew Blackstone was sixteen years old his time with Bill Jack came to an abrupt end. Bill Jack dropped dead.

With Bill Jack gone Andrew realized his status had changed Mister Turner hardly knew him, and the likelihood that he would chose a sixteen year- old youth as his manager was as remote as snow in August.

Suddenly an idea came to mind, an exciting audacious idea, that he cried aloud:

New Orleans! New Orleans is the place to go.

Chapter 11

How to Earn a Fortune

In 1808, Congress passed a law forbidding the importation of slaves. The law disturbed slave owners. They could breed their slaves, and anyone black, half-black, even one-eighth black, was still their property. But those slaves understood and spoke English. Some knew how to read and write. With knowledge gleaned from reading and a common language, they could begin to plot, and concerns about slave rebellions began to haunt their owners’ thoughts. Slave owners began to purchase illegally imported slaves who understood no English and spoke a variety of African dialects, preventing communication with each other as well as their English speaking cousins, who looked upon the new arrivals with contempt.

New Orleans, with its bayous and swamps hampering any possibility of pursuit by the Coast Guard, became the center of an illicit slave trade that brought Negroes from Cuba. It was to New Orleans that Bill Jack had gone in late 1808 and early 1809, ostensibly to purchase grain and feed from the McClellan Grain and Feed Company, but in truth to buy Negroes, newly arrived from Cuba, and bring them back to Virginia.

Andrew Blackstone considered New Orleans to be the best place to go….. acquiring a large fortune was essential to his plan, his dream, his revenge. What better way to rapidly accrue a fortune than by running slaves

White trash! he would sometimes cry aloud whenever his mind conjured images of Mrs. Pope. I’ll show you who’s white trash.

Chapter 12

La Nouvelle Orleans

He reached New Orleans on August 12, 1809.

It was hot and humid. The city stank, and each breath filled his lungs with stagnant wet air that made him cough and choke. A yellow fever epidemic had decimated the population.

He went to the McClellan Grain and Feed Company as soon as he arrived to meet with Cyrus McClellan. It was located in a clapboard building with large windows that flooded the interior with light during the day. Wooden barrels filled with grains and dried grasses required for local livestock were arranged in rows and provided the musty smell and somewhat smoky atmosphere that permeated the building’s interior. Cyrus McClellan had set aside a small room located close to the building entrance for his office. He was a fragile man, thin, narrow- framed, jittery, and bald. His narrow gray eyes darted constantly from one thing to another. In times of fearful diseases, which he believed were carried by the humid air, he covered his face with a white linen handkerchief through which he breathed and spoke.

I have bad news, sir, Andrew began feigning sadness. Bill Jack is dead, sudden-like, unexpected. We was partners with the slaves he got from you, he continued, his mind formulating an embellished tale. We sold slaves to Virginia planters. He told me if anything happened to him to come see you. He said to tell you I was good with arithmetic. I kept accounting books for him, but any work, maybe slave-trade work, if you know how I can get that. What I don’t know, Mr. McClellan, I learn quick.

Cyrus McClellan’s ears perked up when he heard of the young man’s accounting skills, as his previous accountant had died of the fever. He hired him immediately to fill that position. He was also eager to add this strapping healthy young man to his company of slave runners, whose ranks had been thinned considerably by the epidemic.

In no time at all Andrew Blackstone became an accepted member of the McClellan Company’s legal and illegal interests. He joined the crews that sailed McClellan’s graceful sloops through the Gulf of Mexico into the Caribbean and on to Cuba. There they picked up their cargo of black slaves newly arrived from Africa, who were crowded and chained into the sloop’s limited below-decks space, where they made the voyage back to New Orleans, inhaling the stench of their own excrement and vomit. Many died, their now useless carcasses dumped overboard. The remaining slaves felt relief rather than remorse as the removal of those dead bodies provided extra space for them. As for the slave runners, they had no regrets. They would increase the price of each remaining slave, and in that way maintain the same profit margin. Suffice it to say that between his accounting manipulations and his share of the slave trade profits, Andrew Blackstone became a very wealthy man in a very short period of time.

Most slavers were drawn from New Orleans criminal element. Their daily existence strengthened a finely tuned survival apparatus. They had neither the time, the interest, or the energy to concern themselves with reading, writing, and arithmetic. However, there were times when such skills were required to keep track of expenses, and to understand and sign legal documents. Andrew Blackstone had those skills—and, realizing the advantageous position this happy circumstance gave him, willingly aided his colleagues whenever they asked. In that way he quickly assumed a leadership position.

Andrew Blackstone was amazed at the progress he had made. Within a period of three years he advanced from a supplicant begging a position from Cyrus McClellan to a wealthy young man who asked for nothing from anyone. However, financial security and the level of influence he acquired did not satisfy him. His only interests were to hold a dominant position in the aristocratic circles which controlled Williamsburg society and to wreak vengeance on the Pope family. He wanted them totally destroyed! That would come later. Economic and social dominance had to come first. He had the knowledge and the skills to achieve economic dominance. No doubt about that! How to grow cotton… … banking skills… … slave trade wealth … all would be utilized when he returned to Williamsburg to garner economic strength and power. But social dominance…that was another matter: Proper language, proper manners, proper clothing…proper this, proper that…He had no idea as to how to acquire those accoutrements of aristocratic breeding. How …how…how!

Enter Angelique de Valois!

Chapter 13

A Father’s Folly

Angelique de Valois descended from the Capetian line, who ruled France before the Bourbon kings. As a younger son, her father Marcel de Valois had no claim to his father’s lands or title and was required to marry well. After his father’s death Marcel de Valois decided to take advantage of opportunities available in the New World. With his father’s legacy and wife’s dowry carefully packed away he took his family across the sea to La Nouvelle Orleans in the fall of 1780.

Angelique, their one child who had survived, was eight years old. Having settled wife and daughter in a town house, Marcel de Valois explored the surrounding countryside, purchasing 5,000 acres of land on which to plant cotton and sugar beets. The elements were kind to him, his crops sold, his wealth increased. He built a large mansion on his plantation, moving his family there in 1786. However, he kept the town house for his own private pleasures, spending three or four days a week in the city gambling and carousing to all hours. One night he put up his plantation to cover a bet and promptly lost. Enraged, and disoriented from all the champagne he had been