There was simply no way of Edward discovering whether the man with whom he most eagerly desired an audience, namely Madison Williams, had received the letter informing him of Edward’s intention to set sail for Liberia, and giving him notice of the anticipated week of arrival. Following the souring of Edward’s relationship with this difficult man, when it became clear to all that a junior slave, Nash, had supplanted Madison in the master’s affections, Madison, a strong, proud man, both of character and stature, had withdrawn from the house and, in the privacy of the slave village, intensified his efforts to acquaint himself with the Bible and with the skills of reading and writing. After nearly two years, in which Madison rejected Edward’s many overtures towards him, perhaps recognizing that they originated in Edward’s guilt at having surrendered to his own changing passions, a sober-looking Madison had presented himself at the house and requested an audience of his master. When Edward appeared he announced that he now considered himself sufficiently educated, and properly acquainted with God’s ways, to have earned his freedom and subsequent transportation to the new African territory of Liberia. Edward, who had long desired the opportunity of bestowing upon Madison a gesture of good-will, hurriedly agreed to Madison’s request and asked if there were anything further that he might do. Madison shook his head firmly, bowed and withdrew. Soon after, he made his preparations to depart for Africa. His subsequent letters to Edward, though brief, had remained polite. Through them, Edward was able to discover that Madison had settled in Monrovia and was eking out a living as a small trader selling palm oil, rice, camwood, and animal skins to passing European and American ships. As this short voyage unfolded, Edward arrived at the uncomfortable conclusion that, perhaps because of the warmth of their first encounters, or perhaps this and the additional fact that the passage of time had served to sever Edward’s links with many of his other former charges, Madison had now become the only person in Africa whom he felt he could trust. Indeed, it had been to Madison that he had immediately turned when faced with the unpleasant details of Nash’s abrupt and final message. He would now have little choice but to place his entire confidence in this man.
Edward’s first sighting of Monrovia came at dawn, but it certainly did not occasion his heart to leap with joy. In fact, Edward felt himself suddenly overcome with an ill-feeling of foreboding. The morning sea was beautiful and calm, and held in her embrace a number of small offshore islands. Beyond these rushed the boiling surf, where the low waves bit at the shore and foamed white, but thereafter was misery. Edward stared at the gathering of low, square huts, seemingly built of sticks and mud, walls leaning drunkenly to the north or south of vertical, clumsily thatched and adorned with grass, or a flattering crown of corrugated iron. Behind these dwellings he could see only a forested horizon which appeared to mask a huge, roaming jungle in which nothing stirred, and whose only sound was a mournful roar of silence. As Edward clutched the rail and watched, it would have been impossible for any onlooker to have guessed to what depths of loneliness he had now sunk. He looked up into the sky and saw rain clouds beginning to form and flow through the sky like huge ships, although by now he had come to understand that, in this zone, rain was little more than a precursor of the heat to follow. Back on land there was neither a whisper, nor a sign of movement from the ragged cluster of abodes which lined the shore. A despondent Edward leaned forward and set his face towards the bottomless ocean.
Within the hour the ship had anchored off the African port of Monrovia, and the passengers and freight were being gingerly reunited with
terra firma
by means of a fleet of small launches. As his ill-made craft picked its leaky way through the surf, Edward noticed the fishing boats, their nets suspended from tall poles and drying in the sun before being once more thrown to the deep, and he reached the conclusion that these vessels of commerce seemed far better equipped for sea-faring than his present mode of transportation. Fortunately, the low wind merely ruffled the surface of the ocean, otherwise he was sure that both he and his boxes would have succumbed to a watery end. Once on shore, Edward clasped a handkerchief to his mouth and nose to ward off the fetid African air, but the sudden mist of mosquitoes could be combated only by his swatting them against his skin, until his forearm was decorated with a series of red blotches. Suddenly, natives and colored Americans were everywhere, anxious to greet the arrival of this new ship, and in their wake they created a veritable din. Edward examined them, particularly the natives, their semi-clad bodies ensnared by large corded muscles, but amongst their numbers he was unable to recognize any who had about them a demeanor which suggested that they might have been sent by Madison to greet him. And then the weather, being predictable in this region only in its excesses, suddenly, and without warning, changed, and the rain teemed from the skies. At moments such as this it was customary for a Christian gentleman to acknowledge that such a downpour, whilst causing inconvenience to the human being, inevitably bestowed much satisfaction and benediction upon God’s shrubbery, his crops, and his trees. However, the sudden outburst served only to irritate Edward and, following the example of others about him, he abandoned his boxes and marched with some purpose towards the shelter of an overhanging palm tree, whose branches hung limply as though they had been exhausted by the heat of many days. Edward examined the stout grey trunk, and fingered the grainy ridges which ascended as though a series of healed wounds. The rain began now to increase in volume, and Edward realized that he was effectively marooned until the wind chose to rise and blow the clouds to some other part of Africa.
When the rain ceased, Edward entrusted his belongings to a colored American boy, whom he guessed to be not in excess of twenty years, and whom he observed to be a decent specimen. The boy asked of his
master
in which direction they were headed. Edward, who still carried within his bosom some idle hope that he might recognize a former slave from among the throng at the dockside, now found himself in the lamentable position of having to ask advice from his employee. Under questioning, it appeared that this boy was aware of decent lodgings where white people could comfortably accommodate themselves. Edward had presumed that such places would be difficult to locate, for the idea was that Liberia would be established as the country of the free blacks, and Edward had imagined that those white men who dared the seas to arrive in Liberia would have little choice but to join with the more civilized negroes in the sharing of all manner of facilities, even those most basic to mankind. He had further presumed that this policy would no doubt prevent some
opinionated
white men, both traders and seamen alike, from tarrying too long in Liberia, if they chose to visit at all, but it had been argued, by those of a liberal disposition, that perhaps these were not the quality of men that this new country wished to attract. However, Edward’s employee assured him that lodgings for white gentlemen were indeed available.
The young colored boy, his person severely burdened by Edward’s effects, led his
master
through the unkempt and overgrown streets of Monrovia. Edward could not help but notice what appeared to him to be appalling conditions, and he kept his handkerchief pressed close to nose and mouth against the truly foul smell which cleaved the air. Others, however, both white and colored, appeared unconcerned by this atmosphere, which led Edward to speculate as to whether or not he might, in the fullness of time, become similarly familiar with the unwholesome character of this Africa. The boarding house to which the bondsman led Edward bore some similarities to the one in Sierra Leone where he had recently dwelt. A wooden, two-storey affair, a thin coat of white paint and a small veranda bestowed upon this simple building an air of majesty. The colored boy stopped and lay down his boxes, as though unsure of his choice, but with a friendly nod of his head Edward made it clear to the boy that these premises were acceptable.
The room was sparsely furnished, but with good taste. Edward eyed the mosquito net, which draped itself purposefully about the bed, and imagined that this would no doubt prove the most important item in the room. The window gave out on to a small courtyard where the clamor of commerce might, according to the black innkeeper, prove a trifle deafening in the daytime, but come the evening there would be neither sound nor song to disturb the slumber of his new guest. The man withdrew and left Edward together with the boy. It was at this juncture that Edward thought it politic to ask after the young man whether or not he was in possession of either a wife or a girl. To this the boy smiled shyly, then shook his head. Edward examined the young man, his perfect shape, strong torso, powerful legs, and then sat down on one corner of the bed. The bondsman remained standing, although he moved uneasily from one foot to the next as though unsure what was expected of him. And then Edward, sensing the young man’s discomfort, simply leaned forward and asked after his name. The boy averted his eyes, and, keeping the screen of his lashes low, he whispered the single word, ‘Charles.’ ‘I see,’ replied Edward, rising to his feet. ‘Charles, I will be taking a short rest. Perhaps you might try to locate for me the whereabouts of one Madison Williams, a former slave on my plantation and now, according to his testimony, residing hereabouts.’ At this juncture, Edward produced a piece of paper and held it out. However, before Charles could take it into his grasp, Edward withdrew the paper and made proper enquiry as to whether the young man could read. On receiving assurance that he could, Edward once more proffered the paper, which Charles took into his hand. ‘Once you have located Madison Williams, you will inform him that I desire to hold an audience with him at his earliest convenience, is this clear?’ Charles nodded his head and bowed silently. Then, without taking his eyes from his employer, he backed out of the room and gently closed in the door behind him.
Some hours later, Edward heard a light knocking upon his door, and he jumped from the bed, startled by this unadvertised interruption to his slumber. Realizing that it must be Charles returning with news of Madison, he called to the black retainer, ordering him not to stray from his present position. Edward pulled about himself a loose gown, and then gently cracked the door and ushered in a sheepish-looking Charles. Edward thought it best to say little, and to give the chance to the young man, which proved to be the correct decision. No sooner had the door been pushed to behind him, and Edward guided him into a chair, than Charles immediately set forth on his tale of disappointment. Apparently he had, with little difficulty, located the house of Madison Williams, but when he arrived there he discovered the abode to be in a state of abandonment. It was not that it was either broken-down or weather-beaten in its appearance, but merely that it looked as though whosoever had formerly occupied the premises had departed in some haste. By standing on the tips of his toes and staring through the window, Charles was able to see that everything had been left in a state of disarray. It was at this moment that Charles was apprehended by a well-dressed man, in the company of his lady wife, who, pointing an umbrella in the direction of the younger and less worldly man, demanded of him an explanation as to his behavior. Charles had stammered a little before blurting out the information that he had been sent by his
master
to convey a message to one Madison Williams. On hearing this, the well-dressed man let it be known that Madison Williams had indeed left suddenly, to go up-river to attend to some business, the full nature of which the gentleman was unsure about. He was polite with his information, and further explained that he imagined that his friend, Madison, would be returning to Monrovia in the next day or two, for it was unknown that he should be absent from
home
for any protracted period of time. Edward listened carefully to all that the animated Charles related, his eyes never leaving the young man’s face. At the conclusion of the tale, Edward stood, reached into his pocket and pressed a coin upon Charles, who in turn muttered his thanks and made ready to take his leave. Edward informed young Charles that he expected him to visit at Madison’s house three times each day, morning, noon and evening, until the fellow returned. When he did so, Charles was to inform him immediately that his former master requested an audience with him as soon as possible. In the mean time, should Charles want for anything, he was to make it his business to appear at Edward’s lodgings, at any suitable hour, and reveal to Edward, without fear or embarrassment, the full nature of his needs. At this, Charles expressed gratitude, promised to do as instructed, and retired from the room.
The evening was suddenly upon him. An overheated Edward, sweat sliding from his armpits and down his sides, examined his ashen flesh, observing with some distaste his stomach, where the skin was wrinkled like paint. After the departure of Charles, he had once more fallen asleep, but this time he had choked on a succession of unpleasant dreams and awoken in a fury, the sheet knotted about him as though he had fought with the bed in his sleep. Certain that further sleep would elude him for some hours yet, he dressed quickly, pausing only to inspect his ageing body and to listen as a rat ran across the thin boards of the ceiling. Then, satisfied that he was attired in a proper manner, he stepped out into the streets in search of some innocent amusement. In this Africa it appeared that both dawn and dusk were brief and ambiguous, as though there were little time to waste, and Edward soon found himself enveloped in gloom. In the distance, he heard the quiet engine of the sea continually renewing itself, and echoing across the night. Then he momentarily stiffened with fear as a dog whose sick-eye ran with water stepped casually out of the darkness. The ribbed mongrel hobbled awkwardly and eyed Edward in the hope of some morsel of food, but Edward glared back and thought about tossing a stick, for he considered it undignified to beg, and for this reason he found dogs repellent.