Jake settled in this wilderness and carved out a farm and a home.
LAND OF HOPE
Crewmen worked rapidly to strike the sails and prepare for docking at the port of Savannah. The area was swarming with people. Supplies were being moved from other ships to wagons ready to deliver their long awaited cargo. Breezes rushing across the Savannah River caused sails to flap vigorously and scared the seagulls that had encircled the ships seeking a handout. The sky was filled with screams of distress as they flew in a frenzied search for food. The latest arrival edged slowly to the dock where it was then secured and made safe for unloading. A gust of unanticipated wind caused passengers to grab their caps and bonnets or lose them forever to the muddy, swirling currents of the river. Near the side of the ship a young couple stood quietly, feeling a special joy at the realization that they had at last reached Savannah after long weeks at sea. But this joy was tinted with the uncertainty of what this new country would hold for them.
“Mary Ruth, fm not sure what our future is going to be here in America, but at least it’s a new beginning. They say there is a fresh kind of freedom of expression here which may even keep my spontaneous and unrestricted pen out of trouble,” Jonathan Wilson said, as he placed his arms around his wife and pulled her close to his side.
Mary stared out toward the wharf almost ignoring his attempt to make her feel secure and breathed the reply, “Look at all those people! They are moving like ants and Jonathan we don’t know anyone. Not anyone.”
Jonathan turned her around and, looking straight into her face, reassured her that they did have a contact waiting for them.
“Remember,” he said, “we are to get in touch with a Mister Albert Haskins who will help us.”
Suddenly, Mary’s thoughts were interrupted.
“All right, all you Scotch-Irish, get your belongings and get off this ship unless you want to sail with us to the African coast,” bellowed the Captain. “I guess you’ve probably had enough of this old crate.”
The crowd of passengers gathered their boxes and suitcases and briskly moved down the walkway leading to the pier.
The Wilsons soon found themselves on the cobble-stone street below the ship, surrounded by people disappearing in all directions.
“What do we do now, Jonathan? Where do we go?” Mary asked, as she held tightly to her husband’s hand.
With the clamor of talking, laughing, and carts and goods being moved from one area to another, Mary could hardly hear her husband shout, “Mary, let’s just wait until some of these people leave, and then we will begin our search for Mister Haskins.”
All of a sudden, above the ruckus came the most beautiful sound the Wilsons had ever heard, “Jonathan! Jonathan Wilson! If you’re here, raise your hat above your head!”
Jonathan immediately raised his hat and bellowed in reply, “Jonathan Wilson is here. We are here.”
Through the crowd came a large burly man with a most pleasant smile. “You Jonathan Wilson?”
“Yes indeed, and who might you be?”
“I’m Albert Haskins, and I’ve been waiting for you two. Let me help with your baggage. My wife is expecting you for dinner.”
“Mister Haskins, we are certainly glad to see you, and let me introduce my wife. This is Mrs. Mary Ruth Wilson,” Jonathan said proudly.
Haskins tipped his hat and in a polite manner stated, “Welcome to Savannah and to America. I hope this country is as good to you as it has been to me. Let’s get out of this crowd. I hate crowds. Shall we go?”
They soon reached his wagon and were on their way to the Haskins’ home on Liberty Street, just two blocks from the docks.
Mrs. Haskins was waiting at the door. “Welcome to our humble home. I know you must be completely famished from your long trip. Please come in.”
After dinner while the Haskins and Wilsons were relaxing and getting to know each other, Mister Haskins tipped his glass to Jonathan and almost like a toast said, “Jonathan, tell me about your problems in Ireland; and by the way, I’ve heard some good things about you. Talk straight, you’re in America now.”
Jonathan leaned back in his chair and recounted what had happened during the winter. As a promising young printer and writer, he had become too bold and aggressive. Several of his editorials displeased the local politicians and the Crown, and soon he was without a job or a future. His salvation came when one of his wealthy friends offered to lend him enough money to make the trip to America. The debt would be repaid as soon as Jonathan was financially able. In addition, a contact in America would be made for the Wilsons.
“Mister Haskins, you are going to help us, aren’t you? You can help us?” inquired Jonathan, as he once again reached for Mary’s hand.
“Yes, Jonathan, I think I can be of help if you think you can put up with my cantankerous ways. I run a little printing and newspaper shop here in the city, and I need someone who is somewhat spirited. You know, that’s exactly what sells papers here in this country. How about it?” Mister Haskins questioned with a tilt of his head and a twinkle in his eyes.
Jonathan moved quickly out of his chair and rushed in excitement to embrace Mary. He picked her up as effortlessly as if she were a feather, then spun her around and around.
“Mary, can you believe I’ve—I mean we have employment. Can you believe it?”
“Jonathan let me down this minute so you can shake this gentleman’s hand,” exclaimed Mary.
Shaking hands in Ireland was the way men always sealed an agreement. Jonathan reached eagerly for Mister Haskin’s hand as Mary thanked him and Jonathan accepted Mister Haskin as his employer.
The year was 1807. Jonathan enjoyed working for Mister Haskins, and he slowly began to prosper. It seemed this new country was everything a hard-working young couple could ever want. They soon repaid their debt, made a down payment on a house, and Jonathan was prepared to offer Mister Haskins a bid to buy into the business.
One afternoon when Jonathan came in from work, he found an arrangement of flowers attached to the front doorknob. Entering the house cautiously, he found Mary waiting for him in the hall with a most unusual, but pleasant expression on her face.
“Mary, what is the occasion for the flowers? I’ve never received this kind of welcome.?”
“Sit down my love—we have plans to make,” Mary said, as she led him to his favorite chair.
“All right Mary, what is it?”
She placed her hands in his and softly whispered, “There is another Wilson on the way.”
Jonathan was flushed with excitement as they began to prepare for the welcomed addition. The first son, Lott, was born in the fall of 1808, and two years later, a second son whom they named Jeremiah.
Life, in general, had been good to the Wilsons, but in the winter of 1812, a massive epidemic of influenza struck the city claiming over three hundred lives. One was Jonathan Wilson. The death of Jonathan was devastating to Mary and her two young boys.
Mister Haskins did all he could to help the Wilsons, but the war with England had made it impossible for him to remain in Savannah. During the past revolution, he had sided with the colonist in their struggle to separate from the Mother Country and once the British had seized Savannah, his newspaper articles had endangered his life. He had been beaten twice by a group of Loyalists, his shop had been almost destroyed, and the safety of his family had been threatened on several occasions. He felt he was too old to go through this kind of ordeal again.
Mister Haskins knew he must warn Mrs. Wilson about the danger that existed for him and his wife if they remained in Savannah. Mary had been working in his business since Jonathan had died and always helped him clean up the shop each afternoon before closing. Telling her