Voices Beckon, Pt. 1: The Voyage: Voices

By Linda Lee Graham

Set in late 18th-century Philadelphia, Voices Beckon spans seven years in the lives of three young Britons who meet while crossing the Atlantic in search of a new beginning.

 

David, a Scot newly apprenticed to a Philadelphia printer, and Elisabeth, a young Englishwoman with a class-conscious father, fall in love on the journey. Liam, an orphaned Scot with a checkered past, becomes a steadfast friend to them both.

 

Bound by a life-changing voyage, the three establish unwavering ties of friendship, love, and loyalty—until Elisabeth is forced to make a choice that may shatter their friendship and alter their paths.

 

Rich in historical detail, the story chronicles their coming of age against the vivid backdrop of the developing United States of America.

 

Voices Beckon, Pt. 1, is the first of three parts of the full novel, Voices Beckon.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Linda Lee Graham
• Release date: Jul 29, 2022
• ISBN: 9781301813322

Book preview

Chapter 1

River Avon, Bristol

November 1783

ELISABETH LONGED for home, and it had been only days since they’d left it—two days, nine hours, and heaven only knew how many minutes. Her foot tapped a quick rhythm beneath her skirts, and she closed her eyes, ignoring the chaos on the quay. It would be months now, not days, before she received any letters from her friends. How was she to know if Rhee had snared William’s attention at church on Sunday? Together, she and Rhee had devised a foolproof plan; it couldn’t have failed. Well, unless he—

Elisabeth!

Her mouth curved. At last, Papa’s voice. Opening her eyes, she scanned the crowd and spotted him. Given his grim expression, it seemed it wasn’t the first time he’d called, though how he expected she’d hear him in the midst of this mayhem, she didn’t know. She pushed back the hood of her cloak and waved.

Thin lips pressed tight, he approached, clutching a fistful of papers in one hand and gesturing impatiently with the other. We’re to board now. You must pay close mind. You wouldn’t want to become lost in this rabble, would you?

She smiled. No, Papa. Whatever had kept him this last hour hadn’t mussed his appearance. The man was practically in full dress to board a ship. His shoes were spotless, their silver buckles gleaming, and his clocked black stockings stretched taut to his breeches. The cut of his coat flattered his tall frame and hung from his shoulders without a hint of strain. To top it off, his new hat hid his thinning hairline—a must, given she’d finally convinced him to discard his wig.

Appearances mattered a great deal to Papa.

He took her elbow in a firm grip and guided her toward the longboat. His stride was purposeful and sure, and others, less sure, moved out of his way.

What of our luggage? she asked, looking over her shoulder at the trunks they’d abandoned.

It’s been handled. Pull your hood up. The wind is rising, and I won’t have you taking ill.

Mr. Hale! one of the seamen called, motioning them forward. Her father raised his handful of papers, acknowledging him.

She pulled her hood up and turned toward their trunks again, feeling as if someone watched her. Two men, members of the crew she assumed, loaded the trunks onto a cart. Neither paid her the least mind. Turning back, she followed her father onto the wharf. The man who had called out reached for her, and with large, bony hands, he helped her onto the longboat that would transport them to the Industry.

Why hadn’t she grabbed some sand to take with her? She may never return; it would have been nice to have a small piece of Britain. She looked back and whispered a silent farewell to the city.

There! That man slumped against the side of that warehouse with his thumbs hooked in the waist of his breeches—he was the one staring.

She frowned. No, not quite a man; he probably wasn’t much older than she. But he was as big or bigger than most men. Even slouched, she saw that he was tall, his shoulders broad, and his chest wide. He didn’t look away when he saw her turn; he met her gaze directly.

A lock of dark hair escaped his cap and hung low over his brow. If she could judge by the meager possessions at his feet, he was one of the steerage passengers her father had named ‘rabble.’ Or perhaps he was boarding one of the ships sailing to Ireland and didn’t need to carry much. While it was impossible to discern his features at this distance, his bearing intrigued her. It seemed neither arrogant nor challenging. He conveyed confidence and perhaps curiosity; he hadn’t shifted his gaze when she’d noticed him watching her.

She felt an odd pressure beneath her stays, and her hand rose without thought to push back at the sensation. When her father urged her to sit, she dropped to the bench, her gaze still locked with the boy’s while the crew rowed the longboat toward the waiting brig.

DAVID PACED THE QUAY, watching for his uncle. Earlier that morning, the innkeeper had handed him Uncle John’s note, so David knew his uncle had some last-minute errands and wanted David to board the Industry on his own. The man likely thought he did him a favor in letting him sleep, but David could have done without that additional hour. He wasn’t keen on boarding that brig alone.

Why hadn’t his uncle completed his errands the night before? Last night, David had hoped for time on his own. Last night, he had had plans.

Betsy, her name had been, newly arrived from Bath. Pretty, blonde, and plump, she’d laughed at everything David had thought to say while she served them their meal. And when she lingered over pouring their ale, she hinted she’d still be about after the kitchen closed later that night.

Which hadn’t been as pleasing a prospect to Uncle John as it had been to David. Uncle John hadn’t much cared for Betsy the barmaid, and he’d stayed at David’s side long after the kitchen closed.

David and his uncle, the Reverend John Wilson, had been traveling for close to three weeks now. His uncle had had the worst of it, traveling from Ireland before stopping in Scotland to collect David. And though Da was the one who typically delivered Ma’s lectures, it seemed Ma had used that brief visit to pass the lecturing obligation to her brother, Uncle John. A duty his uncle had taken to heart many a time in the last three weeks.

David blew out a breath. He’d be on his own soon enough. He might even miss those lectures.

This was his last day in Britain—for seven years if not for a lifetime. He cataloged it with his ongoing list of ‘lasts.’ His last Sunday spent with his family in kirk. Ma’s last home-cooked meal with all his favorites. One last tussle with Cousin James, and one last night tucking in his younger brothers. Then there was that last lecture from Da while they fished a lazy morning away. But Da could write as well as talk, so no, that likely wasn’t the last. And that final hour spent with Alice Ennis. He grinned, recalling her beckoning him into her barn. Now that had been a sweet leave-taking.

The crowd thickened, clogging his path, and David moved to stand aside one of the warehouses, keeping the ship in view.

Hands in his pockets, he rolled up off the balls of his feet. Sailors called down from the rigging of a nearby ship. Mocking him, David supposed; he couldn’t make out the words, but he knew the tone. He ignored them and studied the Industry. The brig had a tidy look to it; two masts and an uncluttered deck. Tidy was good, meant someone minded things.

Then he saw her.

She stood alone next to a large heap of baggage, framed by a passel of screaming gulls diving at the fish trade’s leavings on the sand behind her. Well-dressed, her dark cloak was tied with bright blue ribbons, a color he thought might match her eyes. A slight smile played at the corners of her mouth, alternating with a grimace of impatience when she surveyed her surroundings. She seemed out of place, standing there alone, though family must be near given the number of trunks she guarded. He wished his own family were near, but it had been hard enough saving for one passage.

David watched her turn when a man called out, and his mouth curved in a grin of anticipation. Elisabeth, the man had called her, moved toward the transport for the Industry’s cabin passengers.

She turned as she boarded, as if sensing his scrutiny, and met his gaze. He considered looking away; he’d been taught better than to stare. But he didn’t.

And then he couldn’t. Her gaze shot straight to his boots before scurrying across his shoulders and darting to his fingertips. Staring at her, he flexed his fingers and watched the longboat shove off.

Had he imagined that?

His gaze narrowed. Aye, he must have.

A breeze kicked up and the clouds began to disperse. Grabbing his bags, he joined the push to the loading queue, his worry leaving him and his excitement growing with the chorus of surrounding voices.

The man in front of him struggled to keep three boys within arm’s reach. Not brothers, David thought, for they were nothing alike and addressed the man as Mister. The man was of middling age, and his round face was surrounded by a full head of sandy hair, hair he wore loose and wild about his shoulders and topped with a tricorn hat. David guessed he was their guardian.

The tallest boy, the one they called Liam, appeared to be David’s age. He grinned when he caught David’s eye and pointed down the river.

How long d’ye suppose before we get to Philly? Sean here says a fortnight, Liam said, tousling the youngest boy’s curly red hair. The boy grinned up at Liam, his round, freckled face alight at the touch. Rob says it’ll be three to four times that. There’s a ha’penny banking on it, for them that’s closest.

Mind your grammar, Liam, the man said, sorting the untidy heap of papers he held.

Aye, Mr. Oliver, Liam said obediently, winking at David. Well, what d’ye say, mate?

It’ll be at least eight weeks, I’m thinking, being as it’s winter. Longer, if we hit more than a bit of weather, David said. And your wager?

"None. Canna risk