Changing Names: A Historical Novel

By Joseph Johnson

In any family tree are names that mean something or nothing to the present-day members of that family. For the Ellison family, there are names that have been the center of tales of family lore and some that mean nothing at all to them. One member of Mark Ellison's family decides to research the roots of the family and finds that the family name has changed time and again. From Scotland to the New World, from the beautiful valley in West Virginia to the family farm in Ohio, a family history is viewed through the eyes of those who lived it. This is the story of only one branch of the family tree. Love and loss, pain and joy, the tales of the Ellison family and their antecedents are told as they lived faithful in their love of God. Although this is a work of fiction, it is based on events that could have occurred. At least in the mind of the author.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Covenant Books, Inc.
• Release date: Jul 16, 2019
• ISBN: 9781645590552

Book preview

Part I

Crommie’s Run

Crommie’s Run is situated back in the dark hills of West Virginia, a state that wasn’t even a state until the American Civil War. Before that, Crommie’s Run was located in one of the original thirteen colonies, the one that produced presidents, one of whom commanded the American army in the Revolution. Another who wrote the Declaration of Independence, arguably the most important document ever penned on this planet. Document, not book. Both of these presidents and almost all subsequent presidents have acknowledged that the greatest of all written works is the Holy Bible. These men were guided by the principles of the Bible, crediting God, not themselves, with the formation of the greatest country ever.

Without delineating the politics of the state, suffice it to say that Virginia was a major player in the formation of the United States without diminishing the roles of the other twelve states.

It was to Virginia that a family of Scots journeyed, looking for land and shelter and, most importantly, a sense of independence from the royals and oppression of Europe. Traveling as a group to the port of Liverpool and onto a leaky, sorry excuse for a boat that the captain claimed was a ship and sailed in miserable conditions across the immense span of ocean to a land that promised what they dreamed life should be; in the year of our Lord 1721.

Chapter 1

Proud and incredibly strong, Angus Crommie led his family across England and into America.

Sethann, his wife, had borne him four sons and a single daughter, who came last on the list. Angus doted on his lovely redheaded little girl, much to the amusement of his wife who knew the girl to be a little spoiled and strong-willed. Without fail, when Sethann would scold Belle, the little tyke would run to her father and blubber about some horror. She would never imply that her mother was the cause of her distress; she was way too smart for that. But her beloved dadda would scoop her up in his massive arms and touch his finger to the tip of her nose and coo to her until the tears stopped flowing down her rosy cheeks. Belle would wrap her tiny arms around Dadda’s neck, bury her face in his beard, and hug him fiercely, laughing as he squeezed her gently to his broad chest.

Sethann would put her hands on her hips and, with a shake of her head, would go back to the chore at hand. Occasionally, she would call to her youngest son, Hamish, to come help her with the lifting, but truth be told, she was nearly as strong as her husband. Taller than many women of that age, she was muscled from labor and running a household. She trusted God to protect her and her brood, if it was His will. She thanked God every day for her life, her husband and children, and for His continued blessings.

She felt it was important to teach her children the chores of a household, as her children would not always have her around to care for them. Sethann’s mother had died in childbirth when Sethann was barely a teen, leaving her to care for the men and the other children of her home. Sethann was very good at taking care of her family, honestly loved doing the things that fed and clothed them in the most comfort she could manage. She managed very well. Her older sons were beefy images of their father, a man she loved intensely.

Her oldest, Josiah, was the spitting image of her husband. In poor light, she could mistake one for the other unless one of them moved. Where Angus was a massive moving force of nature, Josiah was light on his feet for a huge mountain of a man. Both were over six feet tall and weighed in at nearly twenty stones each. Both could toss a caber huge distances in a straight line. Both could swing their claymores with skill and precision. Neither feared any man. Both feared only two things: Almighty God and Sethann. For entirely different reasons, but with the identical results. If Almighty God and Sethann would not approve of their actions, then those actions would be avoided at all costs. Sin displeased God. The things that displeased Sethann included sins but was a list way longer than anything found in the Bible. Obedience based in love for God and Sethann was not a difficult task for either man. Both were gentle and loving, but no man who knew them would risk riling either of them for any of many reasons. Respect for strength and courage is a staple of Scottish society.

Josiah’s next two younger brothers were kin to a wild pack of wolves. Gone for days at a time, Ezra and Duncan would vanish from their home to return days later with portions of some large animals they had hunted and killed. It’s hard to scold a couple of young men for running off without warning and bringing home a month’s worth of food for the family. Angus never disciplined the boys, never asked where the meat came from, hardly seemed to notice when they left, but rejoiced when they came home, bearing gifts or not. Angus never showed any concern for any of his children except his sweet little girl. It wasn’t that he was not concerned; he just didn’t show it. He believed deeply that his sons would grow to manhood or not by the grace of God. He and his older three sons had fought side-by-side in pitched battle, cutting down the foe with total abandon, swinging their mighty claymore swords with their massive arms. If they feared the foe or death, that fear was never manifest at any time in the clash of arms. Their laughter and shouts of joy rang over the battlefield as the enemy fled before them. Courage, strength, and total faith in Almighty God.

Their reputation as a force to be avoided likely carried them through the English countryside. And just as likely, England was glad to be shed of this band of troublemakers and wished them a swift departure.

Angus led his family through the city of Liverpool. Duncan sniffed, Liverpool? Smells more like cesspool. Ezra laughed heartily, drawing stares from passersby. They made a sight, four huge men strolling with kilts swirling, the huge man with gray streaking his beard holding a tiny girl with flaming red hair on his shoulder. A lovely woman with her head held high strode in the middle of the men with a smaller boy strutting next to her. All carried packs of some kind of animal skins without showing the weight of their burdens. Everything that the small family had in the world was on their backs.

They walked as a unit in the middle of the street, careful to avoid the filth that filled the gutters and the people who stood or squatted or sat in the filth. Angus spied whom he thought might be a guard of the city and walked purposefully toward him. To his credit, the man held his ground, only glancing quickly right and left to see if help was available if he needed help. Which he thought he might. But the huge man was pleasant in tone as he hailed the guard.

This was what the guard heard: If ya plase, sore, wood ya be tellin’ me ta lowcayl of ta god shop ‘Clayopater’? Angus stood with his chest out, imagining that this would be the proper way to address a guard of the city. The guard stood stock-still, processing the question. He understood about half of what the huge man had said, and although it sounded like a polite question, he just couldn’t figure it out. He thought harder, scrunching his face in concentration. Angus watched patiently. God shop Clayopater. Then realization dawned. The Cleopatra was moored a few blocks away. Could it be that this group was looking for the good ship Cleopatra? Well, it was worth a shot. The guard shifted to his right and pointed to a forest of masts showing over the rooftops of the many buildings between them and the docks. Nodding his thanks, Angus led his family on.

The Cleopatra was not much of a ship, barely sixty feet long and about fifteen feet on the beam. The name was in flaking paint on the aft, barely legible. Two masts jutted from the upper deck thickly hung with ropes and wads of canvas. Filthy crewmen tended to the scow, doing tasks that looked little like anything to the thrifty Scots standing on the pier. The smell of pitch, sewage, rotten food, fish, brackish water, and who knows what else blew on a brisk breeze into the faces of the family.

Little Belle wrinkled her nose. Dadda, what’s that awful smell? Angus shushed her while his two wild sons guffawed. Sethann raised an eyebrow as she faced them, shutting down their laughter. At least, to a quieter bit of mirth.

Hamish looked up at his slightly-taller mother. She’s not wrong, Mamma. That thing stinks to the heavens!

Sethann brushed her hand over his shoulder. Aye, it does, but that’s to be our home for a bit, so we do what we have to do to make it better for ourselves and our Christian brothers we share it with. Her declaration was resolute and completely accepted by her family, who nodded solemnly as they stared at the sorry excuse of a ship, each contemplating what they might do to make that stinking hulk a better place to live.

Presently, a man strode out onto the deck and seemed to notice the family waiting on the dock. Hustling down the gangplank toward them, he hailed Angus, calling him by name. Extending his hand, he introduced himself, Captain Wodehouse at your service. Are ya’ ready to come aboard the lovely ship, sir? We’ll be sailing on the tide and expect fresh breezes to the shores of America!

Angus nodded. Aye, that we would, sir, and a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Lead on, if you please. And with that, the Crommie family found themselves in a small cabin with bunks that none of the men could squeeze their giant frames into. Even lying on the deck, there wouldn’t be enough room for them. Sethann immediately announced that she and Belle would share the bottom bunk, and Hamish would take the top. She asked Angus if he would stay with them on the deck as protection and that the three older boys should seek the captain and ask for tasks to keep them busy. And they could bunk with the crew. Problem solved. Sethann took care of her family. She was stowing their belongings when the ship began a slow roll, and she felt the motion of the tides in the harbor. The ship moved into the Mersey Estuary, headed for the open sea. Sethann smiled. They were on their way.

Her three older sons were on deck, watching in wonder as the crew climbed rope ladders and loosed sails to the wind. A small man moved on the deck from place to place yelling in a voice that belonged to a much-bigger person, directing the men in the rigging. The ship swung to the left, rolling like the fat scow she was. Eleven other passengers were on deck with the boys trying to stay out of the way of the crew. The small man would not abide passengers interfering with the smooth operation of his crew and loudly corrected any errant passenger. The Crommie men kept to themselves, watching the crew, trying to find something that made sense, something that they might do to become useful like mamma told them to.

Soon, the small ship rounded a bit of land and sailed into the rolling swells of the Atlantic. Gone was the gentle roll of the tide. The ship rode up to the crest of a wave and slammed down the other side, repeating the motion again and again. For the next two weeks, the ship pitched and tossed, throwing the passengers from wall-to-wall in their cabins. The little children and Sethann clung to their bunks, afraid to leave the safety of the small spaces.

Belle was sick for the first three days of the journey; everything she ate came up in mere minutes. Sethann tended the tiny child, although she was seasick as well. Hamish was not too sick, but didn’t like watching his sister suffering. Angus ate little, knowing that he wouldn’t be holding it down, either. But after the fourth day, the sickness left them, and they rallied. One of the crew told the older sons to have the family come out on deck for fresh air. Angus vetoed the idea, fearful that the pitching of the ship would cause one of the youngsters to fall overboard. The very thought of losing one of his children to the sea and the beasties below curdled his blood. The best he would allow was for the four of them to sit under an open hatch and breathe the salt air. It helped some at first but became unnecessary as the days wore on. They still did it, though, just for the fresh air.

In the meantime, Captain Wodehouse began to allow the boys to take on certain tasks. Assigning the two younger sons, he recognized as a set, to the first mate he introduced as Mr. Jenkins. They never knew him by any other name. Mr. Jenkins sent them into the rigging with the sailors. Duncan raced to the top of the main mast, hanging on the ropes, feeling the spars move under his feet with the motion of the little ship. Ezra walked the sheets with a sailor and marveled as he watched the waves surging below him, nothing but the brisk sea breezes between him and the sea. By the end of the first week, the wild wolves were as adept in the rigging as the sailors themselves.

Josiah was less eager to go into the rigging, maybe rightly thinking that the ropes may not hold him. And he did not want to go into the water, which, he figured rightly again, would be certain death. Instead, Captain Wodehouse showed him around the map room, the helm and taught him the use of the sextant. Josiah began to spell the helmsman for a couple of hours at a time. He felt the ship respond to the rudder as he turned the wheel, learned to watch the sails, the telltales and the swells, finding the right line for the ship to make the fastest progress across the sea. Captain Wodehouse watched the young man with pride, seeing a natural sailor. He admired the attention that Josiah showed to each detail, not distracted by those working around him, not even by a gull that flew within mere inches of his face. Josiah’s head moved constantly, moving data into alignment with other bits of data, perfecting the task, reveling in the ship speeding under his guidance. It occurred to Captain Wodehouse that Josiah would be a very good pirate, accounting that very few men would be able to stand against him in a fight. His commanding presence would make him a good captain too. He decided to talk to Josiah before the end of the voyage, maybe to make him a partner and captain of another ship they could buy together.

Through bright sunlight and clear skies, the little ship sailed on, pushed by strong breezes. Rolling and pitching, Cleopatra carried her load of cargo and souls below Ireland, then Iceland, and curved down below Greenland toward the upper coasts of America. Occasionally, a rain squall would douse the crew in the rigging and Josiah at the helm. Josiah reveled in the weather, the winds rising and scooting the ship faster over the towering waves. He watched his brothers swinging in the rigging, daring the elements to strip them off and into the foaming main. Sometimes, he had to look away, sure that one of his brothers would end up going too far. He couldn’t bear to think of watching one of his family go to their death. But the wild wolves were taking no greater chances than the seasoned sailors in the rigging. And they were having the times of their lives, rejoicing in the wind, rain, and scorching sunlight tempered by the cold air blowing off the Arctic Circle.

Sethann, Angus, and the younger children endured the voyage in the small cabin. Other than a few strolls around the lower decks, they kept to themselves behind the closed door. Sethann passed the time with the little ones by preparing simple meals from the goods provided by the ship’s crew and a few items from the packs they had borne across Scotland and England. The children helped; even Belle was cooperative, learning what a bit of spice could do to make flavors more palatable and, by extension, easier to consume. Belle and Hamish helped mamma clean the dishes, such as they were and worked to keep the cabin tidy.

Angus quietly watched his wife take care of his babies. He had never been more proud of her quiet, steady manner, correcting and teaching, loving her children with an intensity he had rarely noticed prior. She kept their attention off the pitching of the little ship by telling them stories from the Bible, extolling the faith and bravery of the men and women of God. She also knew the lore of the family, relating the tales for the entertainment of the children and Angus. He laughed along with the children, was appropriately sad at the right moments, sitting quietly sometimes with his eyes closed so he could see the tale unfold in his mind. He thanked God for giving him a righteous and wonderful woman to share his life. He thanked God for his children and asked His blessing for the remainder of their voyage. He prayed for the friends they left behind in the land of their birth. But as much as he missed Scotland, he ached for the shores of America. They couldn’t get there soon enough.

Chapter 2

Gliding along the quiet waters in the bay, the Crommie family gazed at the land that would be their new home. Lush forests crowded the shores. Deer grazed the glades among the trees. Clouds of birds soared in the deep blue skies above. Angus and Sethann viewed the scene as what they imagined Eden would have been like. The ship angled into a quiet river and sailed inland for a mile or so. At a clearing, Captain Wodehouse called for the anchor to be dropped and down came the sails. Crewmen shoved the gangplank to the grassy shore, one scampering down to secure the far end to the shore. Lines went out from the ship and were tied to trees to keep the ship steady.

Angus and his family carried their packs as they had when they boarded the ship so many days before. Captain Wodehouse stood at the head of the gangplank shaking Angus’s hand and wishing the family well in their new home. Mr. Jenkins clapped Ezra and Duncan on their tremendous backs, offering them a chance to crew with him anytime. The wild wolves said their goodbyes to others in the crew who now were friends of a sort, certainly cohorts who had braved the elements together. The surprise of the day came as Josiah told Captain Wodehouse that he would likely be back next year to take up sailing with him. Angus and Sethann shared a look but kept their comments for another time.

Mr. Jenkins leaned in at that moment. Glad to have you back, lad! Never seen a steadier hand on the wheel, present captain excepted, of course. And bring your brothers with ya’. It’s a joy to watch them in the ropes! With a slight bow to his captain, Mr. Jenkins nodded to the Crommies and scurried across the deck to attend the crew.

Angus gripped the rail and stepped onto the gangplank, moving as steadily as possible to set his feet on the soil of their new country. His family followed eagerly, Hamish teetering above the shallow water before recovering and scampered onto the damp earth of the riverbank. Standing beside his mamma, he waved to the crew who waved back. The sailors couldn’t remember a better time on the crossing due to the antics of the older sons of the gigantic Scotsman. Angus led his family on a path that promised civilization dead ahead, and sure enough, a village materialized through the foliage at the end of the path.

What Angus did not anticipate was an officious-looking little man standing before a small building with a sign declaring it a Tax Office. The officious man introduced himself as Master Quinn, the king’s representative in the New World. Angus stood openmouthed, staring at the offensive little man. How could they have come this far on a dangerous voyage to escape the oppression of the English throne only to be confronted by the King’s tax collector?

And what would the tax be for a poor Scotsman and his family, sir? Angus thought this was a reasonable question although he was vexed to the point of rudeness.

A shilling each for the lot of you, my good man. Smugness oozed from the little man who seemed to know that the money would be a problem for these poor pilgrims. If ye cannot pay, you will be required to work in the community for a period of one year, helping your fellow man to improve the village and providing for the welfare of His Majesty’s loyal subjects. Mr. Quinn looked down his nose at the family, something he was finding hard to do since they towered over him by a foot.

A minute, please, Angus replied, turning to his wife. What are your thoughts, my dear? I could lift his head, and we can move on with little interference. Or maybe bargain a better deal. What say you?

Sethann looked into her husband’s eyes, then to the little man. I’ll talk to him if you don’t mind me doing a little bargaining, Angus. I think you would terrify him into calling the militia. I don’t want the wee ones to see you or your sons kill the English taxman. Our Lord tells us to give to Caesar what is Caesar’s, but I think this man may be taking some of Caesar’s for himself. To Hamish, she said quietly, Slip back to the ship without this man seeing you. Tell the good captain that we need his services. Be quick as a hare and quiet as the kirk mouse. She winked and held his head to keep him from bobbing in agreement and gently pushed him behind his brothers and father. She did not hear the tread of his shoe on the ground but knew he was on his way. To the tax agent’s eyes, the child had been removed to allow the bigger men a clear path of attack. As he began to raise his hand to call the guard, Sethann stepped forward. If you please, sir, may I ask if the tax is the same for the wee ones as for the men? And am I not a woman of the crown? It is my understanding that women and girls are not to be taxed in the New World to encourage them to make the voyage. Am I misinformed?

Mr. Quinn looked Sethann over as if she was a vile slug. Who are ya’ to be talking to the representative of His Majesty? I’ll not be talking to a slip of a woman. Let your man speak for himself or you’ll be in the guardhouse for the night. I doubt it would be a pleasant night for you. I’ll have the stocks erected for your men, as you call them, so they can hear your cries. So, do you want to be stepping back, or are your men too scared to speak without hiding behind your skirts?

A deep rumble came from Angus as he seethed. Sethann took another step toward Quinn, no longer thinking of him as Mister, just a filthy little beastie who enjoyed his power too much. Be careful, little man. You insult me again or threaten me, my man will step from behind my skirts and dismantle not only you but this hellhole you call a village. Shall we be courteous, or will you be meeting your Lord on this fine day?

Quinn stepped forward to push Sethann out of his path, knowing that the guard was now assembling behind him and would back him up with pikes and sword. At that moment, a shout from the path to the river echoed off the trees and hovels. Captain Wodehouse and ten of his crew arrived with determined strides. Wodehouse yelled for everyone to hear, Quinn, ya’ thieving bastard! Ya’ need to leave these good people pass through your land and go into the wilderness beyond. They’ll not be needing anything of your stores and will not be put into servitude to help you build the fort. The captain strode to inches of Quinn and stared down on him as the crew surrounded the little man and their captain.

Quinn swallowed, looking at the determined crewmen and the huge Scots. He mumbled, They refuse the tax, Captain Wodehouse, and as you know, I am empowered by the Crown to place them in servitude. So, if you don’t mind, let’s not have a war and let me do my job.

Captain Wodehouse backed up a step and asked, What was the tax you intend to collect here, Quinn?

A sixpence for the lot of them, Captain, but they refused to pay. What am I to do? Quinn looked around Captain Wodehouse at the Scots, imploring them to agree with his statement with his eyes.

Angus snorted, The King’s taxman told us a shilling apiece, Captain. Quinn watched in horror as the huge Scot pulled his claymore a foot out of its sheath.

Quinn yelled, No, you misunderstood. I said a sixpence! Looking back at Wodehouse, he plead, They misunderstood! We barely speak the same language! Look, I can be reasonable! I can let them pass through for a sixpence for the lot of them. I’m a reasonable man, although I’ll have hell to pay from my liege in London. I can extend charity, and that’s what I’ll do, but let’s all of us be reasoned in our actions!

Sethann passed over a sixpence in coin to the taxman and nodded to him as she gathered her brood to pass through the village. Angus paused long enough to inform the little man that if he ever saw him or his guardsmen again, there would be no reason in his actions. To Captain Wodehouse, he said, Godspeed, my friend. You and your crew will be blessed by God and safe on His oceans. To Quinn, You will be in our prayers too, little man. And he strode off after his family, passing the guards, who averted their eyes.

As they passed the stench of the village and on into the forest, they heard Captain Wodehouse command his men back to the ship. Sethann said a prayer of thanks to her Lord that her family had been spared the horror described by the petty little man who collected taxes for the king of England.

Chapter 3

The Crommies walked a fast pace on a wide path through the forest, generally in a westerly direction, heading inland. Angus walked behind his family, letting Josiah and Sethann take the lead. In the back of his mind was that the vile little taxman would send the guards after him or maybe less honest folks to ambush and rob them. He wasn’t afraid of any ambush for himself. It was his smaller children and his wife that held his concern. But in broad daylight and with four armed men on full alert, an ambush wouldn’t be successful for very long. Unless projectiles were used. Angus had little fear of firearms, which were pretty useless, except in the hands of someone who knew the gun well. And, once fired, the gun became nothing but a club. And they were loud and wouldn’t be used this close to the village or the river.

Arrows were altogether a different story. Even with yards of sturdy cloth wrapping their bodies, an arrow could find a neck or a bare arm. Not necessarily lethal, but a wounded man would be less useful in battle. Unless it was Angus defending his family. Too many times, he had proved himself in combat. Sometimes one-on-one, sometimes against multiple foes. Sometimes back-to-back with his sons. Angus took a lot of abuse before he would show any effect of the wounds. Scars laced his massive arms where swords, arrows, and spears had cut him. Every time, every single time, the man who cut him paid with his life. He loved the stories of Samson and Gideon. Faith in God, strength and prowess, even the redemption of Samson after his sin and capture, bringing low the enemies of his people. And destroying a pagan temple in the process! Angus imagined that he and Samson were a lot alike, except Angus would not be deceived by a pagan woman.

He remembered the raid on an English fort with only twelve Scots and the rout of fifty or so English soldiers. Gideon would have been proud. Angus tried not to be, but he was. It had been a glorious rout of the English who had been stripping the local farms of food and animals. The last straw was the rape of two sisters by several of the soldiers. Their father was killed defending his daughters. The Scots decided not the waste time in the King’s corrupt courts and set on the fort killing several soldiers