The weather became progressively warmer as their route carried them farther south and west. Jane began to regret that she had brought only black gowns. She quite longed for a simple white muslin. Her parasol had been of no use at sea, but the moment they docked in the calm harbour of St. John’s in Antigua, Jane was happy to avail herself of its shade. Even the shelter of her bonnet was not entirely adequate for the tropical glare.
The small town that had arisen around the dockyard was a tidy affair of modern stucco buildings. Green hills surrounded the brilliant blue of the harbour, and palm trees waved overhead. Everywhere around them, people moved with a purpose. More interesting was an alteration that took Jane a few minutes to notice. Aboard the ship, she had been surrounded by Englishmen, with some few men of foreign extraction thrown in among them. Here, Jane saw Black Africans everywhere she looked. For the first time, Jane understood why the term Black African was used, as the skin of the workers unloading their ship was very dark indeed. There were very few faces as pale as her own. She had spent a good deal of time in London associating with the Worshipful Company of Coldmongers, the young men who provided cooling glamour to the great houses of London. As they were largely descended from slaves, she had become used to being around young men of colour. Compared to the dockworkers, those young men had been as fair as she. There were men of colour in the lighter range of brown that she was accustomed to, but they were fewer in number.
Ibrahim stood at her side on the deck. They gazed at the bustle of the port while they waited for Vincent to finish the business of finding lodging, which Jane and Vincent would need until they could arrange transport to his father’s estate. She had their small case on deck, so she used it as a seat. Their larger trunk was still in the hold, and would be sent on to the estate when they were ready.
Jane tilted her head back to look up at Ibrahim. “Have you been to Antigua often?”
“We call here every two months or thereabouts, being a regular packet ship.”
“That long between ships?”
“Oh no. Packet ships arrive every two weeks, but it takes us a month to get here and another month to return to England.” He squinted against the sunlight. “I do not go ashore here. But the food is very good. You must particularly try the black pineapple.”
Vincent strode towards them, his complexion marking him out from the crowd of labourers, even if his height did not. He was followed by a brown man in livery. The fawn-coloured knee breeches and coat seemed out of place among the rough linen shirts and rolled trousers surrounding them. The footman’s skin was nearly the same shade as the fawn cloth, and Jane wondered for a moment whether he had been chosen to go with the fabric or the fabric with him. The black mourning band on his arm and his close-cropped hair were the only points of contrast. When he boarded, she saw that he was quite young, probably no more than a year and twenty. For all that, he had a peculiar sense of familiarity.
“Mrs. Hamilton.” Vincent addressed her formally now that they were in company. “Ibrahim. This is Zeus from my father’s estate, come to meet us.”
“Zeus?” A curious name, though with a sister named Melody, Jane could not make a mock. Mothers chose odd names for their offspring. She ran a hand along the front of her dress to smooth it. “I am grateful for your assistance. How did you know we would arrive today?”
He gave her a bow and, with eyes so low he might have been addressing the ground, answered, “Mr. Frank, the house steward, he sends the carriage on those days that a packet ship is expected. I am to convey you to the Greycroft estate and make arrangements for your trunks to be brought after.” Zeus’s voice had a slight softness to the consonants and a novel syncopation. He stepped smoothly to Jane’s side and took her parasol, holding it over her as if this were a dance whose steps they had already rehearsed. With equal ease, he picked up their small case and stood waiting to guide them.
Ibrahim bowed over her hand. “It has been a pleasure to have you sail with us, Mrs. Hamilton.”
“Thank you, Ibrahim. I do not think I should have survived the crossing were it not for you.”
He winked at her. “I wish you joy.” And he was away.
Jane followed Zeus across the crowded dockyard. “How far is it to Greycroft?”
“The great house is just above three hours, madam.” He turned from the dockyard and onto the street fronting it. “Here we are.”