Call of the Raven by Wilbur Smith & Wilbur Smith & Corban Addison & Corban Addison

Author:Wilbur Smith & Wilbur Smith & Corban Addison & Corban Addison [Smith, Wilbur]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Bonnier Publishing Fiction
Published: 2020-09-02T16:00:00+00:00

Camilla and Chester set out for New Orleans – not by road, but down the Mississippi River, which flowed like an artery through the heart of Bannerfield. Chester had his own landing where the boats could tie up, and two huge warehouses fronting the river. After the harvest, the buildings had been filled to the rooftops with bales of cotton. Now, they were empty.

Camilla cast one last glance back at the big house on the hill, the monstrous palace that Chester had built. Somewhere inside it, her child was lying in another woman’s arms. She felt an ache in her belly, as if the baby had been ripped out of her. Chester had not even let her say goodbye. She had not seen Isaac since the wet nurse carried him out of the bedroom the previous afternoon.

They boarded the steamboat that was to take them to New Orleans. Camilla had been on one of these boats once before, when she arrived at Bannerfield, but it still amazed her. It had no sails, but belched smoke and steam from a pair of chimneys; boilers on her bottom deck roared with the effort of turning the large stern wheel that paddled her through the water. It looked nothing like the boats she had seen on the James River at Windemere. Instead, it appeared more like a giant floating mansion: a flat bottom, a snub bow, and a white superstructure rising three storeys from the waterline. It was painted brilliant white, like a plantation house, and decorated with ornate curlicues and columns.

‘Do you own this?’ she asked.

‘There is no money in steamboats,’ sniffed Chester. ‘This is the packet line.’

The inside was almost more spectacular than the outside. Their stateroom walls were covered in gilt mirrors, with a rich Brussels carpet on the floor and mahogany furniture upholstered in plush red fabric. The bed was wider than a carriage.

Chester sat down on the bed with an expectant leer that instantly made all the splendour of the cabin seem like nothing more than a tawdry brothel.

‘It is a day and a half from here to New Orleans. I suppose we will find some way to pass the time.’

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