Liberty's Virtue

“Liberty’s Virtue”

Liberty Upham stared out the window at a hummingbird flitting over a blood red hibiscus, following it with her eyes past a lazy palm frond swaying in the breeze. Her chin was cupped in her hand, a crick in her neck, but she couldn’t tear herself away from the view. The house on St. George Street was perfect. A three story gingerbread, (four if you included the attic), with intricate woodwork designs along the façade. There were gables and spires and a covered, wraparound porch that extended the entire length of the home. Liberty had fallen in love the moment she saw it.
“Oh, my darling! It’s beautiful,” she had cried, trying to keep the longing from her voice. She knew that, although her husband was a well respected and prosperous sea captain, they could not afford this bewitching, prodigious dwelling.
“If you like it darling, it’s yours. Of course, I’ll have to sell the Liberty’s Virtue, but a small price to pay to make my sweetheart happy.”
It still made her giddy when she thought of the Captain naming his ship for her, his wife. She knew that the sea was his life, and to be a part of it, if only in spirit, was a testament to their love. Selling the ship, however, was too much to consider.
“Oh, Captain, you wouldn’t dare! You love being at sea. I could never ask…” she trailed off as her eye followed the path of the front walk towards the mahogany stained glass door at the front of the elaborate home.
“Let’s have a look inside.” He said.
The Captain took her hand as she stepped from the carriage onto the cobblestone sidewalk. Liberty never looked down as they walked hand in hand through the ornate wrought iron archway that guarded the entrance to this palace on St. George Street. “All of the iron work was done by the local blacksmith and farrier, Mr. Chatterton.” The Captain paused a moment to examine the intricacies of the blacksmith’s handiwork.
“Oh it’s beautiful!” she gushed.
He continued to lead her up the long walk through the beautifully landscaped front yard. They were dwarfed as they approached the front steps, not only by the home, but by the elaborate landscaping as well. Liberty and the Captain were surrounded by a lush garden that engulfed the front steps as it spilled over their boundaries in a stunning display of hydrangea, palm, and hibiscus.
Approaching the front door, the Captain fumbled in his pocket and produced a brass skeleton key.
“Mrs. Liberty Upham,” he said. She jerked her head around as the Captain lowered himself to his right knee, “would you settle down with me in this rickety old house?”
“But Captain! I could never ask you to sell your ship. It wouldn’t be right. You belong at sea!”
The Captain offered Liberty his famous sideways grin.
“You’re right. And besides, we’ll need the income from the Liberty’s Virtue to make the mortgage payments which Mr. Flagler has so generously made affordable to us. Welcome home!”


Liberty sat on her knees in the garden that had been her pride and joy since their move nearly two years ago. She was pulling weeds when she was surprised by her husband‘s voice. “I’ve invited a few people over next Saturday night for a Bon Voyage party,” Captain Upham informed Liberty. “Make sure that we have plenty of food and entertainment. I’ll stop by the Casablanca tomorrow and pick up a case of rum from Annie.”
Annie Stewart conducted a very lucrative rum-running business under the guise of a bed and breakfast called the Casablanca Inn. Liberty stared at him. It had been over a year since he’d mentioned having company. Usually he was content to go down to O’Steen’s for beer and male bonding, leaving her at home. He did occasionally resign himself to her pleas to socialize, but he grumbled and fidgeted so, or became so embarrassingly drunk that their nights were inevitably cut short.
One night, while enjoying a rare invite to the luxurious Flagler Hotel, Annie had informed Liberty that the Captain had slipped away and was across town at the Castillo de San Marcos, fighting an imaginary foe he swore was the Seminole War Chief Osceola’s ghost.
“Perhaps you have had a bit too much yourself, my dear,” Annie had whispered in her ear. “You should excuse yourself from the company of young Mr. Whatley and tend to your husband. He is starting to make quite a scene.”
Liberty had ruined her best gown and shoes, plodding around the muddy grounds of the fort, trying to coax the Captain to come home. For two weeks after the party, she’d endured all the snickers of the townspeople that she could bear. She declined all invitations after that.
But it had been so long since they’d hosted a party that Liberty couldn’t help but feel a surge of excitement at the thought of visitors. She mentally shuffled through all the townspeople, wondering who the Captain had decided to invite. The thought of her home filled with all of St. Augustine society made her skin tingle, and she fought the urge to clap her hands in glee. Anyone but the old sailors the Captain fraternized with at the bars would be fine with her.
She glanced at him, eagerly awaiting more details, but her excitement faded when she looked into his steel gray eyes, and remembered all the embarrassment he had brought her in the name of fun. Was a party in her own home, where she had no form of escape, really such a good idea? She slumped back in her chair, bracing her forehead against her long slender fingers.
“Is something wrong dear?” His voice held more challenge than concern, lips sneering at her from beneath his bushy, graying mustache.
Obviously uninterested in a response, the Captain was on his feet, fumbling in his coat pocket, producing a square box wrapped in brown paper and tied with fraying beige strings.
“Go ahead darling! Open it. It’s just a little something for you to wear to the party next week.” His voice was crisp and lacked the slurred lilt she was so accustomed to. Her mood lightened. Maybe the party won’t be so bad, she thought, biting her lip in anticipation. Maybe.
She pulled off the strings and unfolded the stiff brown packaging. Inside were two bracelets made of sterling silver, encrusted with two tiny diamonds, braided in a sailor’s knot. She looked up at him. He had his hands clasped behind his back, and he was rocking back and forth on his heels in delight.
They reminded her of the ropes binding the Captain’s ship to the dock. She knew that he was studying her face carefully, and she widened her eyes and smiled, hoping that she was projecting enough pleasure for his liking.
“Put them on. Let’s see how they look on those pretty little wrists of yours. You could wear them with your blue silk dress.” He took the bracelets and slipped one on each wrist. They would look hideous with her blue dress. They felt like shackles, heavy, cold and unflattering.
“Perhaps they would look better with the red,” she proposed gingerly.
“Absurd! The red has long sleeves. Too hot. Besides, you wouldn’t be able to see the bracelets. You do like them, don’t you darling?”
“Of course. Thank you Captain,” she said. They had been married for five years, and he still insisted that she call him that. The captain of the most prosperous trading ship in St. Augustine commanded respect, especially from his wife. Or at least that’s what he said. Secretly she called him by his first name, Richard. During drunken rages and condescending conversations, she would sit, demure and quiet, silently screaming Richard, Richard, Richard, over and over. It made it easier to endure the Captain’s unendurable tempers.
He pulled her to her feet, still holding her wrists in his large, calloused hands. He kissed her on the inside of each wrist and then roughly on her mouth. As he led her by the hand, up the stairs to their bedroom, Liberty knew what was coming, and she felt bound to oblige.

By nine o’clock Saturday night, the party was in full swing. Liberty closed her eyes and reveled in the sounds of laughter and glasses tinkling in toasts. She had been quite the hostess, milling around, talking to her guests, offering hors d’oeuvres. She looked beautiful in her blue silk, a sparkling teardrop diamond at her throat, and sapphire pins in her hair. The atrocious bracelets that the Captain insisted she wear clashed terribly with her elegant party attire, and she kept pulling at her sleeves, trying to hide them. She was standing beside the Captain, arm hooked in his, stifling a yawn while the Captain droned on about the possibility of inclement weather, wondering if he would be able to sail in the morning. Just then, Ross Maxwell, a young and prosperous architect, stepped up to them. Liberty brightened.
“Excuse me Mrs. Upham, would you do me the honor of this dance? That is, if Captain Upham doesn’t mind, of course.” Ross smiled at the Captain and bowed slightly. The Captain glanced at Liberty.
“You’d better not, darling. You look pale. Too much excitement perhaps?”
“Nonsense. I could dance all night.” Liberty looked at the Captain with complete innocence written on her face. Turning to smile at Ross, she said, “of course, I’ll dance with you Mr. Maxwell. Excuse us darling.”
The Captain glared at Liberty for a moment, but he did not protest, and Liberty smiled and turned to face Ross, extending her hand. He led her to the dance floor and she was in his arms before the Captain had a chance to object.
When Ross tightened his arms around her waist as they danced, Liberty did not pull away. She was used to men trying to hold her, kiss her, and woo her away from her aging husband. Every time, however, she had staunchly refused, remaining true to her Captain. Tonight, though, it felt so good to be in Ross Maxwell’s arms, knowing that the Captain was watching as she let herself be held. She could feel the jealous, enraged eyes of her husband upon her, and Liberty smiled sweetly and wiggled her long lean fingers, his bracelets hanging at her wrist.
She remembered the first time she and the Captain were at a party together, five years ago. His eyes were upon her then too, but at that party, his attentions had electrified her, made her quiver. Now it did nothing more than make her uncomfortable. After her waltz, Liberty excused herself from Mr. Maxwell and made her way to the refreshment table. As she was pouring herself a glass of champagne, a hand touched her back. She jumped nervously and looked over her shoulder.
Liberty breathed a small sigh and smiled at Annie. She was one of the wealthiest women in town, yet did little to let this fact be known. Her attire alone was enough to draw stares of disapproval from the high society ladies of the town. Tonight Annie was fashioned in a mismatched yet very colorful Bahamian skirt and blouse and adorned with heaps of costume jewelry. Annie, now a widow, had traveled much in her youth. Her husband, a merchant sailor out of Savannah, conducted most of his business through the Dutch colonies down island. It was there, most likely in the Turks and Caicos, that Annie had developed not only a taste for dark rum, but the connections through which to smuggle it. Though her husband was gone nearly ten years now, Annie continued their good work, running the Casablanca by day, signaling the rum runners from the rooftop with her lantern by night.
“He’s staring at you again,” Annie whispered.
“He has been all night.” Liberty turned to face Annie, feeling the Captain relax his gaze and return to the festivities. “I love him Annie, but I can’t take anymore of his jealousies. I feel so trapped.”
“Why darling, surely you know why. You’re young and beautiful and every man here would trade places with the Captain in a second. The man is threatened, insecure. And he’s getting up there darling. Time and years can do horrible things to a man’s pride,” Annie said.
“But Annie, I married him! Not anyone else. I love him and I made a promise to him, and I don’t understand why that’s not enough. I don’t understand what pride has to do with it.”
“He is afraid to lose you. And forgive me for saying so, but the way you carry on with all the young men, its no wonder he’s afraid to let you out of his sight,” Annie said. Liberty looked at her, eyes flashing in alarm and anger.
“But I don’t do anything wrong!” Liberty protested. “A dance or two with a good friend is nothing for him to be jealous of!”
“I know that, but it’s that manly pride again. It’s a dangerous thing Liberty. He feels that you belong to him. You are his wife, so you should pay no attention to any other man but him.”
“But it’s so unfair!” Liberty clenched her hands into tiny fists and fought the urge to stamp her feet.
“I know. It’s wrong, but that’s what you have to do if you want to keep the peace, and keep the Captain.”
“Annie, I don’t know what to do,” Liberty began. “I made a vow to myself the night we married. I swore that no matter what happened, I would be a good faithful wife to my husband. I just didn’t think that it would be this hard.”
Annie was listening intently to her, but kept looking over her shoulder, making sure the Captain was not within earshot.
“All night I’ve been trying to remember why I fell in love with him,” Liberty continued. “I miss the debonair and kind man that I married. The one that made me feel more beautiful than anyone ever had. He used to tell me stories of his travels and adventures, and promised that one day, he’d take me to all those faraway places he’d seen.” Liberty closed her eyes and Annie squeezed her hand a little tighter.
“At first, things were wonderful. He was attentive and loving, and enjoyed my company. But for the past couple of years, he’s changed. He hardly looks at me anymore. When he’s not at sea, he’s locked up in his study with a bottle of whiskey. It’s terrible!” Liberty said. She fought back tears stinging the backs of her eyelids. “If he thinks I’ve turned my attentions elsewhere, he’s got no one to blame but himself!”
“How long has it been like this between you?” Annie asked.
“A long time,” Liberty confessed. “At first, he would tease me, saying I stole the hearts of every man at a party. After a while though, he quit joking and became accusing. He swears that while he’s away at sea, I’m gallivanting around with every eligible bachelor in town. Nothing convinces him otherwise. After your birthday party last May, he threatened to lock me in the attic if I so much as looked at another man,” Liberty whispered. There was a look of shock on Annie’s face.
“I am tired of being a good wife to a brutal, harsh man that bears no resemblance to the one that I married,” Liberty continued. “I can’t live my life bound to the jealous rages and paranoias of my emotionally estranged husband!”
Annie shushed her, and whispered. “I didn’t realize how dire this situation had become. Liberty, we’ve got to get you away from him. Your life may depend on it.”
Liberty looked as though she’d been slapped in the face. She knew that her husband was out of control, but had never thought that her life might be in danger because of her husband’s drunken rages.
“Tomorrow, after the Captain sets sail, I want you to meet me at the Casablanca. We’ll get you away from him,” Annie said, then paused. “But, if I don’t hear from you by tomorrow night, I’ll never mention it again. I won’t force you. But if you decide to leave the Captain, I’ll help.”
No sooner than had Annie finished her sentence, Liberty felt a familiar hand touch her. Instinctively, she twisted away from the Captain, shrugging off the possessive hand on the small of her back. The look of alarm and confusion on the Captain’s face frightened her. At that moment, all she wanted was to get away from the Captain, from the party, from everyone. She walked away from him, blindly, toward her laughing and smiling guests. She had almost made it out of sight when the Captain grabbed her elbow and wheeled her around.
“Let me go,” she said through clenched teeth. “Don’t make a scene, Richard.”
Liberty had never called him by his first name to his face. The Captain was incredulous, his face reddened, and he squeezed a little harder. He loosened his grip only slightly when Annie stepped up to them.
“Richard, darling, won’t you excuse us? Liberty isn’t feeling well. Don’t you worry about a thing. I’ll help her up to her room. You just tend to your guests.”
Without giving him a chance to protest, Annie slipped her arm around Liberty’s waist and whisked her up the stairs.

* * * * * * * *

“Mr. Maxwell is awfully friendly don’t you think?” The Captain’s words were slurred.
She pulled the last pin from her hair, letting her golden brown locks cascade down her back. Careful, she warned herself.
“Yes. I suppose so. It was a very nice gesture inviting him tonight,” she said.
“Yes, well maybe it wasn’t such a good idea,” he said.
She turned to face him. His round gray eyes had become fiery slits and they bore through her, causing her to redden.
“What do you mean?” Suddenly afraid, Liberty began fidgeting with her bracelets, trying to remain composed.
“Well, he certainly couldn’t keep his hands off you tonight.” He loomed over her, and she could smell the rum on his hot breath. She shook with fear and anger, but swallowed it down and faced the Captain.
“Darling, it was just a dance! Silly Captain. Come, let’s go to bed. I’m sure you’re exhausted and you need your rest before you go to sea tomorrow.”
She sat at the vanity table, turning her back to him, and resumed her bedtime ritual, hands shaking as removed her earrings and necklace. He was silent, still standing over her. When she went to remove her bracelets, he grabbed her elbow and pulled her to her feet.
“Leave them on,” he growled in a low threatening tone. He released her wrists, and in an instant, had the top of her dress bunched around her waist, his hot, rum-soaked mouth stifling her shriek of surprise. He shoved her onto the bed, trapping her beneath his weight. His hands moved roughly across her trembling skin, as if trying to scour away her adulterous thoughts.

* * * * * * *

When Liberty woke it was barely morning. She could see rays of sunlight peeking through the high window, casting their luminescence across the board floor of the attic. She immediately jumped up off the mildewed bed, her bare feet hitting the splintered floor hard as she stumbled towards the door. She was weak, and as she tried to regain her balance, she felt the ache of last night climb up her spine. Her face throbbed. She reached up to touch it, and felt the swollen lump beneath her right eye. Liberty winced in pain as the memory of last night came flooding back.
The Captain had been forceful before, but rarely this violent. Liberty’s recollection of the evening was still cloudy, as her head pulsated with the pain of numerous blows. After he was done having his way with her he had dragged her to the attic. She fought back. For the first time she resisted him, and she paid dearly. The taste of blood still lingered in her mouth. Liberty cringed as she thought of that horrifying look in his eyes as she clawed at his face. Beneath her fingernails there was still blood and skin from the only strike she had landed. It was a good one too. Her fingernails had obviously done some damage to the Captain’s leathery face. Liberty tried to shake off the pain and bleariness of her long night. She knew that she had to get to Annie.
She grabbed the door knob and twisted, pulled, and pushed in a futile effort at escape. Liberty collapsed by the door in anguish as she realized that she was once again a prisoner of her husband, bound not only by her vows of marriage, but now by this oak door as well. She sat in the shadows of the attic and sobbed until a single ray of light struck her face. The sun was bright in her tired eyes and she squinted. Suddenly she was charged with a glimpse of hope. The window! I can make it out the window!
Liberty scampered towards the bed. With all of the strength she could muster, she dragged the heavy iron frame under the high window and climbed precariously onto the arched headboard. Even standing on the bed frame, her chin barely cleared the window sill, to the opening that was just wide enough for her to fit through. Liberty climbed down from her perch and heaved the front of the bed up and propped it against the wall. A little higher and she would have a perfect ladder with which she could comfortably reach the window. She moved the foot of the bed, braced her back against the ironwork, and pushed with all of her might against the heavy frame. She could feel the splinters dig themselves deep into her bare feet, but she pushed until the head of the bed was a mere three feet beneath the window.
Liberty knew she must the glass and yell for help. Certainly someone would pass by and hear her calls. Grabbing a dusty candelabra, she scaled the iron frame until she was eye level with the window. The first smash of the silver against glass did nothing. The second, however, sent a crack splintering out from the middle of the window to the edges. One more and the jagged pieces of glass fell nearly thirty feet to the green manicured lawn. Liberty immediately began screaming for help, but quickly ran out of breath. As a dark cloud passed over the Florida sun, she looked up and down St. George Street and saw no one.
It’s Sunday. They’re all at church, Liberty thought to herself. It would be hours before anyone heard her screams. Still hopeful, Liberty scanned the distant streets, looking for help. As she did, something off the horizon caught her attention.
Liberty’s Virtue was sailing out of Matanzas Bay. Even from this distance Liberty recognized the sails of her husband’s ship. She watched as it sailed out past the jetty and into the open sea. He was really gone, and wouldn’t return for weeks. She stood, watching her husband and captor sail off into the horizon.
In the distance, there was a low rumble of thunder, shadows deepening on the attic floor. Hurricane season, she thought. Somewhere deep in her mind, surfacing slowly, was reality of the situation. A lump of panic rose in her throat. If a hurricane swept through town, many would evacuate or stay boarded up in their homes. Annie was her only hope. Certainly she would be by to check on her. Liberty’s thoughts wheeled to their conversation the night before. “But, if I don’t hear from you by tomorrow night, I’ll never mention it again.” It would be tomorrow before Annie would even attempt to check on her. Liberty knew that Annie would at least give her a day to think things through. But if there was a hurricane coming in… I may not have that much time. Annie could never make it to the Upham’s if the storm worsened and caught the town unaware. Liberty’s hope was fading as fast as the sunlight.
She climbed back down from her perch and sat on the cold floor, leaning against the wall, knees drawn up to her chest. She closed her eyes and wept quietly, wishing for Annie, wishing for her mother, wishing for anyone other than the Captain to come and save her from this terrifying reality. The longer she sat, the less she cried.
Twenty minutes or more passed before Liberty found the courage and the strength to rise up from the floor. She had decided what must be done. She knew that her only hope out of her prison lied within her. What she did not know was if she had the strength to it. Liberty touched her swollen cheek once again, reflected on it for a moment, and began climbing the bed frame. She could see it getting darker. There was most definitely a storm approaching. Liberty forced herself onto the ledge of the high window and looked up at the mass of black clouds beginning to swirl overhead.
The rain pelted out a taunting rhythm on the roof, and Liberty listened for a moment. Her mind was immediately drawn to her childhood in Charleston. The sound the rain made on that old tin roof, long before her father had made his fortune and could afford such luxuries as shingles. Liberty thought of her parents and the life which they had worked so hard to provide for her, a life which she had carelessly thrown away, blinded by reckless abandon and youthful lust. She looked down the nearly thirty feet to her garden below and could see it clearly as it had looked that spring day when Captain Upham had presented it to her as their home. Some home, she thought. As she stared down at the puddles forming on the lawn below, the blood from her face began to run into her eyes, carried by falling rain. Liberty looked up into the deluge and listened over her throbbing head as the wind picked up and howled through the palm trees, shaking the fronds violently. Then, as if on cue, the heavens burst open, dumping sheets of rain and hail on the roof and in through the freshly broken attic window. The wind screamed at Liberty, and she screamed back.