Page 8 of Master of Paradise

His resolve toughened as well.

Never again would he be taken for a fool.

In time he would build his own empire, and none would dare take it from him.

Nick celebrated Christmas and his twenty-second birthday in the Azores and reveled in the brilliant sunny days.

He listened avidly to stories of America, where he was heading.

On the long night watches he talked with the other men and asked questions of everything from the land, to the food, the climate, and the way of life of the people of the South.

By the time they made port in Bermuda in early January, Nicholas was tanned a deep mahogany, and his shoulders were a few inches broader.

He resembled a bronzed god with turquoise eyes; a startling contrast against his dark skin.

When he reached the Port of Charleston, he was excited to experience for himself the richness and color of his chosen land.

Nicholas was enchanted.

He found himself totally captivated by the languid pace of life, the grinning black faces, and the never-failing sunshine, warm even at the beginning of February.

He soaked up and absorbed every detail like a sponge, ever thirsting for new sights, and smells, and tastes to savor.

From the day he saw his first planter mounted on a Thoroughbred arrive in town, followed by his elegant wife and daughters in their carriage, who in turn were followed by a wagon-filled with their black servants, he knew what he was going to be.

Deep down inside he believed that slavery was wrong, but here in the South it was an accepted way of life, and when he thought about it, he acknowledged that it was much like the landed aristocracy of England.

It suddenly came to him that he was wasting valuable time.

It was as if he emerged from a dreamlike trance that had held him spellbound.

From this moment on I will make every minute, every action, every thought count for something.

Nicholas got into a friendly game of poker, just to learn the ins and outs of the game.

Blackjack, he discovered, was his beloved vingt et un, and he was delighted that these Southern gentlemen loved to gamble as much as he did.

By the third evening in Charleston, he'd won a horse and a body servant.

He felt ambivalent about owning a slave, especially when the ownership paper was made over to him, and he saw in black and white, so to speak, that the man known as Samuel, approximately thirty-five years old, was now the property of Nicholas Peacock.

Samuel was a pleasant-looking man with a high head and an unceasing supply of dignity.

He was slim and straight and had a distinguishing touch of gray upon the tight wool of his head.

His nose was thin and hooked, and he looked down it often.

Nicholas soon discovered that Samuel was going to be one of the most significant encounters he would make in his life.

He was a never-ending surprise.

He knew everything that was worth knowing about everywhere and everyone.

He had spent his life in the homes of rich Southern families, where gossip had been a way of life.

Nicholas was amused to discover that Samuel was an unmitigated snob, who looked down upon no-account white trash, field hands, house servants, et al.

The two men formed an instant bond with a strong rapport, and amazingly they had no trouble understanding each other.

The crisp, clean phrases of the Englishman acted as counterpoint to the soft drawl of his man-servant, and Nicholas had the distinct impression that Samuel owned him rather than vice-versa.

Nicholas had only to voice a desire and Samuel took over and brought the desire to fruition.

Nick remarked that he preferred living in a house rather than a hotel room, so Samuel took him on a small walking tour to show him some houses that were being offered for rent.

They walked up Savage, a street that ran off on an angle from Tradd Street.

Nicholas found the houses on Tradd so much to his liking that he was hard put to choose one.

They passed the quaint Sword Gate Inn, which was number 111, and number 75 was a big three-story house with stables.

Then Nicholas saw the one he wanted: Number 26 Tradd Street.

It was a little pastel pink house set back from the others.

The cobblestone street led up to three brick steps and an exquisite miniature garden with a ceramic cat climbing the garden wall.

The house was tall and narrow with a tiny balcony on the second floor surrounded by iron railings.

Samuel haggled the rent, explaining that such negotiations were beneath the dignity of his master, who was a great English Lord.

"Samuel, my father was an English Lord, but I am not. Must you exaggerate?"

"Ah must, Masta Nick. Thass the way it's done." They exchanged conspiratorial grins and moved into the house. All was accomplished on credit. Not one red cent had been expended.

Samuel advised him where to conduct all his business, took him to the best tailor, and told him which bank to use. He never tired of offering Nicholas his sage advice.

"Masta Nick, ah have observed in dis life that success depends entirely upon attitude. Start out as y'all mean to carry on. Ma formula is based purely on 'as if'. Act 'as if' y'all owned the world, an' someday, y'all will."

Nicholas was vastly amused and agreed with most of the things Samuel said.

"My tastes are simple, Samuel; I'm always satisfied with the best."

"Masta Nick, thass the attitude, egzactly!"

Nicholas made no secret of the fact that he wanted land; as much as he could beg, borrow or steal, and with land actually going for as much as fifty dollars an acre in some areas, it was time to break out the peacocks.

The banker, Gabriel DuBose, a small Frenchman with delicate features, was immediately taken with the Oriental birds, and declared it would be tantamount to sacrilege to melt the birds down for their gold bullion.

He assured his new client that given a few days he would be able to secure a buyer who would be willing to pay a price at least triple their bullion value.

Samuel stood behind his master, holding the art pieces with more arrogance than an emperor.

Nicholas agreed to let DuBose hold onto the peacocks in exchange for a receipt for their total weight.

Each bird weighed slightly more than twenty pounds, so his receipt was for six hundred and fifty ounces of gold on deposit.

As usual, Samuel's advice on where best to buy land proved correct.

They would follow the River Ashley inland and buy somewhere between Charleston and the Capital of Columbia.

Nicholas realized that the land would be much cheaper if it needed clearing or draining.

He would need men and mules to clear the land and get in a crop for this year.

From now on, when I gamble, I will only wager for mules or slaves.

When Nick received word from DuBose that he had a buyer willing to pay twenty-five thousand dollars for the peacocks, he did not hesitate.

Possibly he could have held out for more, but to Nicholas time was money and less a decent commission for the bank, he had received thrice their worth in bullion.

He closed his eyes and silently thanked his brother Philip.

Someday I will return the favor.

The next day Nicholas packed a mule and he and Samuel set out to find the chosen place.