Homecourt Publishers Greenville, SC

the story of Eliza Lucas Pinckney

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Homecourt Publishers 2435 East North St., #245 Greenville, SC 29615-1442 [email protected] www.homecourtpublishers.com (864) 877-5123

written by Ben Bache

ISBN Reference Number: 0-9741017-1-1

1 — All Grown Up 1

2 — The Plantation 7

3 — A Rough Start 17

4 — Blowing in the Wind 29

5 — Earning a Reputation 41

6 — The Swindler 45

7 — A Good Year 62

8 — A New Decade 70

9 — 30 Years Later 77

Epilogue 83

I'm not happy that

Father is leaving,

but I'm 16 years

old and I can

handle it.

1 — All Grown Up

My father rubs his thumb under my eye, as if he is wiping away a tear. "Are you crying?" he says with a smile. "No!" I say, which is true for the most part. My eyes might be watering, but I'm not crying! "Of course not," says Father. "Elizabeth Lucas is far too grown up and independent to cry." 2 — Indigo Girl

I do my best to smile. Whenever he calls me "Elizabeth" instead of "Eliza," I know he is mocking me. But I am grown up now. I am sixteen years old, and that's an adult woman. I have traveled to England to attend the best schools, and now across the oceans to be in the New World. I am ready for anything. Besides, we aren't living in the Middle Ages. This is the year 1738, when a strong woman can make a difference! Still, I am going to miss him. "I'm going to miss you," he says, as if reading my mind. "I don't have a choice, though. It's time for me to leave South Carolina. I have to do my duty and go back to the islands." Father is always talking about doing his "duty," and even when I roll my eyes it makes me proud to hear him say it. I know that he has to go back to Antigua. That tiny island needs him. It is always being threatened by Spanish ships, and the British government can't let one of its colonies slip away to one of its rivals.

3 — Indigo Girl Father is an important man in the British Army, and he is needed in Antigua.

All my life, Father has been a high-ranking officer in the British military. People are always saluting him and calling him "Sir." He's going back to be the governor of the island, and I know he is the right man for the job. It just all seems to be happening so fast. We only moved here, to South Carolina, a few months ago after Mother got sick. Father thought it'd be a nice change of scenery. But he has barely unpacked his suitcase before they are calling him back home.

A ship blows its horn. To everyone else, it's just another sound in the background of the 4 — Indigo Girl busy port of Charles Town. Dock workers are loading crates onto boats, passengers are climbing aboard, and people are scattered everywhere. Among all of that chaos, it's easy not to hear the sound of a single ship's horn. But I sure heard it. I know that it means that Father's ship is ready to go. He will be leaving in just a few minutes. I give him one last hug, and so does my little sister, Polly. She has been quiet ever since we got on the wagon at the plantation. I know it's hard for a little girl to say good-bye to her father. "Are you two going to be okay?" Father asks, although it is a little late for that question. "Of course," I declare, proud of myself for seeming so calm and confident. "What about the plantation? Are you sure you can run it? I can get your brother, Thomas, to return home from England. Or I can have one of the overseers at the other plantations help you." 5 — Indigo Girl South Carolina is going to be different than the tiny

South Carolina island of Antigua (but I'm ready).

Antigua

I look at him in shock, and he gives a smirk to show that he was only half kidding. I am the one who had begged Father to allow me to run the plantation while he is gone. I have grown up around the sugar cane plantations in Antigua, and I know I am up to the task. The thought of my younger brother coming back from his schooling in England to help me... that is enough to make me laugh. 6 — Indigo Girl

And the overseers at Father's other plantations? I am supposed to be the one who is in charge of them! The ship blows its horn one final time. I give Father one last hug, and so does Polly. He turns and walks away. I have no idea when I'll see him again.

7 — Indigo Girl

I grew up tending to the

sugarcane

plantations, but

these fields just

look like weeds!

2 — The Plantation

I was being honest when I told Father that I was up to the task of running a plantation. I believed—and still believe—that I can do it. But it's hard work. Harder work than I ever imagined... and we haven't even planted a single crop yet. For starters, the lower fields are covered in weeds. Actually, "weeds" is much too kind of a word. What I really mean is that the lower 8 — Indigo Girl fields are covered with small trees that take an hour to dig out of the ground. I'm thankful for the slaves, even though it's a harsh arrangement. I was around plenty of slaves growing up near the sugarcane plantations in the West Indies, but it's something that has always bothered me a bit. I guess it's just a cruel necessity. Running a plantation would be impossible without the slaves. It would take me a month to clear one acre of the stubborn evergreen shrubs that grow so easily along Wappoo Creek. A dozen strong slaves can do the same task before lunch time. Right now, every field hand I have is trying to uncover the topsoil that is hidden below the overgrowth. Their time would be better spent plowing fields, building fences, and getting ready to plant seed. But none of that can happen until we get rid of the weeds.

***

9 — Indigo Girl

I know that the local planters wonder if I can really run a plantation.

"Hello, Miss Lucas." For a second, I worry that I've been staring at the weeds so long that they're starting to talk to me. Then I realize that the voice is coming from behind me. I turn around to see Mr. Jacobson and Mr. Harley. "Hello, Miss Lucas," Mr. Jacobson repeats. "Oh... hello," I finally say, thankful to talk to a person, and not the weeds. "We just wanted to come by and make sure you're okay," says Mr. Harley, in an overly-concerned tone that I don't care for. 10 — Indigo Girl

I've been running this plantation alone for over a month, and I think that I'm doing just fine. Not all of my neighbors agree. Mr. Harley owns a nearby plantation, and it's no secret to me that he views me as a helpless sixteen year-old girl. "Of course I'm okay," I say to him, trying to be firm with my tone. "Why wouldn't I be?" "Well," says Mr. Harley with what I'm certain is a tiny smirk on his face, "I saw you yesterday near the creek chasing after a horse." My face turns bright red, partly because I am blushing, and partly because a sudden anger rises up through me. It's true that I was "chasing after a horse" yesterday. The fence in the pasture near the Big House is in bad need of repair. The horses are always getting out, which isn't that big of a deal. But something spooked them yesterday. I'm not sure if it was a rattlesnake, or the sound of a shot gun. But three horses took off through the fence and into the woods. 11 — Indigo Girl

It’s hard to track down runaway horses while wearing a dress!

The first two horses ran only a few hundred yards before they decided to graze on the grass. I was able to bring them in easily. The last horse is named Blue Sky, and he's always looking for trouble. Once he realized he was out of the fence, he took off for the creek bed, which is a mile down the hill. It might be easy for a horse to run that distance over the bushes, but it isn't easy when you're wearing a dress down to your ankles! I knew exactly where to find him, because it's where I let him stop for a drink 12 — Indigo Girl when we go for a ride. The problem is that Blue Sky was in no mood to come home. I pushed, pulled, slipped in the mud, and yelled the meanest things I could at him. Still, Blue Sky just stood there. I had to walk to the slave quarters and get Edmund to help me bring him in. When Edmund grabbed Blue Sky's mane with his strong, dark hands, the horse finally decided to move. I guess that Mr. Harley must have seen part of this circus act. I'm sure it was nice for him to see a young woman struggling to do a man's job. I'm angry at myself that I gave him that much satisfaction. "I did have a little trouble with the horse," I try to say calmly (but I'm sure he can hear that I'm annoyed), "but Edmund was there to help. I've got everything under control." "Well, young lady, it can be dangerous..." Mr. Jacobson raises his hand so that Mr. Harley will stop talking. 13 — Indigo Girl Everyone wonders what I’ll grow on this plantation… and I don’t really know myself!

"You're doing fine, Eliza," he says calmly. "I can see that everything is coming together, and you should be ready for planting season." Mr. Jacobson is the opposite of Mr. Harley. If Mr. Harley is hoping that I will fail (and I'm sure he is), then I'm certain that Mr. Jacobson is hoping that I succeed. That's important, because I need someone on my side. Mr. Jacobson looks over the fields where the slaves are clearing the weeds. "Which crop are you planning to focus on?" he asks. 14 — Indigo Girl

Mr. Harley jumps in before I can answer. "Your father runs a rice plantation by the Waccamaw River, but this land is too high to plant rice. You won't be able to flood the fields. And he has a timber and tar plantation further inland. But you don't have enough trees here for that." I once again feel the anger run through me. For starters, I am perfectly aware of what is going on at my father's other plantations. And he isn't the one "running" them, anyway. He's 1,500 miles away doing his job in the West Indies. Father has hired overseers to run his plantations, and I am the one in charge of them. If there is a problem, these men are to report to me... not my father. "We have big plans for this plantation," I say, looking only at Mr. Jacobson. "We're going to experiment with different crops, and see if we can have some success with something other than rice. My father is going to send different seeds from Antigua, and we'll see what grows." 15 — Indigo Girl

All of the planters around Charles Town are looking for a crop that will grow well in South Carolina soil. Charles Town

Mr. Jacobson is clearly interested. "What sort of seeds?" he asks. "Cotton, ginger, lucerne... even some indigo," I answer. "That's wonderful." says Mr. Jacobson. "If I can find another crop to grow in this South Carolina soil, I'd be very grateful. Please keep me posted on your progress." "I certainly will, sir." I say. 16 — Indigo Girl

As they are turning to leave, Mr. Harley says, "I guess you'll be busy growing a nice, little garden. That sounds like fun, Miss Lucas, but keep in mind that running a plantation is no game." "No, sir, it's not." I say, and turn back to look at the weeds.

17 — Indigo Girl

Ginger is one

of the crops

I’m trying to

grow on the

plantation.

3 — A Rough Start

"What's this funny looking plant?" Polly asks. "It's ginger," I answer, "but it's not supposed to be that funny looking. It doesn't seem to be growing too well." What should be bright green leaves with yellow flowers looks more like brown plants struggling to break through the topsoil. 18 — Indigo Girl

"Ginger?" Polly says, as if that's the silliest word she's ever heard. "It sounds like the name of a horse. What's it do?" "All kinds of things. People in Asia use it as a spice when they cook, and it can even be a medicine for when you get sick. They grow it a lot in Jamaica and ship it back to England." Polly nods, as if she is actually interested in the boring explanations of her older sister. "Where's Asia?" she asks. The question strikes me. Of course she knows about Jamaica. That's one of the British colonies in the West Indies, and it's much bigger than the island of Antigua where we grew up. But Asia is a different story. It's a continent on the other side of the world, where they speak a strange language and have different customs. The only way Polly could have learned about Asia is in school, and she doesn't go to school. When I was her age, Mother and Father were making plans to send me to the best schools in England. Of course I had to learn about French and music (and all of the 19 — Indigo Girl

I went to the best schools in England… but Polly hasn’t had nearly as much schooling. other things girls are supposed to know), but I also learned about the world, and history, and science. Polly hasn't had nearly the amount of schooling that I have. And with Mother and Father gone now, I don't know if she ever will. "I'll tell you what," I say to her. "We'll talk about the continent of Asia when I sit down with you and Jenni this afternoon." Jenni is a slave girl who's about the same age as Polly. Every few days, I take some time 20 — Indigo Girl to help them learn to read. Imagine if Mr. Harley knew that I was teaching a slave girl!

Polly and I continue to walk through the fields. The seeds that Father sent me are in the ground now. We really rushed to get the plantation in good shape—clearing the weeds, removing rocks and roots, dividing the fields, and a hundred other "fix-it" tasks. By the time everything was planted, the Summer air was getting hot and the soft Spring rains were being replaced by thunderstorms. I'd be lying if I said I didn't have my doubts about this planting season. There's a lot that goes into growing a successful crop. You have to know exactly when to plant, how far apart to place the seeds, and how much manure to mix with the soil. You have to tell the slaves exactly how to handle the plants as they sprout from the ground. Many of my slaves came from the West Indies, or even straight from Africa, and they have developed a sense for when a crop 21 — Indigo Girl My favorite subject is "botany" — the study of plants.

needs to be tended to, and when it needs to be left alone. I am fascinated by the entire process. When I was going to school in England, my favorite subject was "botany"—the study of plants. It helped me appreciate all of the time I had spent with Father walking the plantations back on the island of Antigua. But this entire crop isn't looking good. Not at all. As Polly and I walk across the struggling ginger fields to the lucerne seeds, I see that they aren't even popping out of the ground. 22 — Indigo Girl

It's easy for me to wonder whether I did everything right, but even if I did I know there's another factor that's just as important. Luck. Plain old-fashioned luck. I can't control how much it rains this year. Or whether the bugs decide to skip my plantation and eat my neighbor's crops instead. Or if my strongest slave twists an ankle and is unable to harvest on time. But these things are very important if you want to turn seeds into plants, and plants into a profit. Unfortunately, I don't seem to be having much luck this year. Nothing is working. I'm trying to write everything down in my journal so I can see where I might be going wrong. If I made a mistake, I need to fix it for next year. I don't like the thought of Mr. Harley thinking that I'm a failure. I can't even bear the thought of Father thinking I'm one.

"Is that cotton?" Polly asks, interrupting my train of thought. She is pointing to the plants with white balls of soft fibers growing around clusters of seeds. The cotton is 23 — Indigo Girl The cotton is struggling, but shows a little bit of promise (and it could be profitable). struggling like all of the other crops, but at least Polly can recognize it. "Good job, Polly. It is cotton... at least the little bit that's growing is cotton." I say, taking another look at the dismal field. "All of the best clothes are made from cotton," notes Polly. "If you can get that to grow, we'll be rich!" 24 — Indigo Girl

The problem with cotton is that it takes a lot of labor to grow and harvest.

She has a good point. More than once it has crossed my mind how important it would be if we could get cotton to grow in South Carolina. It could be even more profitable than rice. "That's true, but it's a little trickier than that," I say to Polly, picking a piece of cotton off of a plant. "When you harvest the cotton, you need to separate the white fibers from all of these little seeds before you can sell it." I show her how hard it is to pull out the stubborn seeds. 25 — Indigo Girl

"It would take a lot of people to pull out all of those seeds. We have twenty slaves on this plantation. If we were growing cotton, I bet we'd need more than 100." Polly nods. "Sure... but if you could make enough money, wouldn't it be worth it to get more slaves?" Sometimes Polly amazes me with how smart she can be. She's right, of course. If there's enough demand for cotton, plantation owners won't hesitate to use more slave labor. Yet the thought of even more slaves makes me cringe a bit.

I love it when Polly and I get a chance to do this. Polly used to follow her "big sister" around all the time back on Antigua. But now I'm so busy running the plantation that I can't spend as much time with her. Sometimes I have to be gone for days at a time when I travel to the other plantations that Father needs me to watch. "We should do this more often," I say to her as we reach the indigo fields. Polly smiles. 26 — Indigo Girl

The truth is that I probably will never have the time, and she's just as happy playing with Jenni. But it's good just to take a walk every now and then. The slaves are busy tending to the indigo, and they ignore me because I am always checking in on them. But when they see Polly, their faces light up. Polly spends a lot of time near the slave quarters when she plays with Jenni, and she knows everyone by name. Yet she rarely comes out to the fields, so a few slaves come over to greet her. I don't mind that they take a short break. Working with a shovel or a hoe all day can be exhausting. Edmund is one of the slaves who comes over. "It's too hot for you to be out here," he says to Polly. "I like it out here," she replies. Edmund laughs. "Well, there's nothing quite like the smell of the earth." Polly sticks her nose in the air and breathes in deeply. "Is that what I'm smelling?" she asks. 27 — Indigo Girl

The truth is that it would be impossible to run a plantation without good slaves like Edmund.

"I reckon," answers Edmund. "That and a little old-fashioned sweat." He gives a huge smile, his white teeth a sharp contrast to his dark skin and the dust that has collected on his face from a morning of labor. He turns to me with a more serious look. "The indigo seems to be coming in pretty good, Miss Eliza." I nod. Of all of the seeds, the indigo plants appear to be doing the best. They're not 28 — Indigo Girl thriving, but there's no doubt that the seeds are a good fit for the soil. "What's this indigo good for, anyway?" asks Edmund. "You don't eat it, do you?" "No," I agree, "I don't think indigo would make a good meal. It's used as a dye, Edmund. The blue flowers can be used to add color to clothes, furniture, rugs... just about any kind of fabric. It would sell nicely in England." Of course, growing indigo is one thing. Turning it into a dye that you can sell is another (and to be honest, I don't know how I'm going to do that). Right now, I'm just worried about one thing at a time—growing something. Anything! And I'm glad that the indigo plant is showing a little promise.

29 — Indigo Girl

I don't

know when

I'll see Father again, but I look forward to the letters he writes me.

4 — Blowing in the Wind One Year Later...

Things are starting to seem a little too normal around here. I'm starting to feel so comfortable about living in South Carolina that I wonder if I'll ever return to Antigua. For that matter, I wonder if Father will ever be able to join us here. Luckily, I often write and receive letters from Father. He's very busy on the island, and 30 — Indigo Girl he offers no hints that his duties will end soon. Things are so tense between the British and the Spanish in that part of the world. My younger brothers, Thomas and George, have joined the British military—the most powerful one in the world. I'm sure they'll see every continent as they protect Britain's colonies around the globe. Polly and I have managed just fine on the plantation. This season's crops were planted with far less effort than last year's. The indigo showed promise, so I asked Father to send me a new batch of seeds earlier than he did last year. We were able to get them into the ground before the Summer heat came, and I can see the plants are growing stronger. I don't want to get ahead of myself, but I'm starting to feel like I can run this plantation just as well as any of the important men around Charles Town. That's how I feel most of the time, at least. Today is a little different. The winds have been blowing hard since this morning, and then the 31 — Indigo Girl A terrible storm is blowing through Charles Town.

rain started to come. As the day has gone on, it's only gotten worse. "It feels like it's going to blow our house away," says Polly, doing a poor job of pretending not to be scared. "Don't be silly," I say. I'm hoping my attempt to sound brave is better than hers. I always try to sound confident like my father. But I know there's a difference between sounding confident and being confident. 32 — Indigo Girl

It's days like these that I'm reminded that I'm only a seventeen year-old girl. When the sun is shining, I can run this plantation without blinking an eye, and it never crosses my mind that there isn't a man around. But it's not a sunny day today. The rain is pouring and the wind is hissing like a wounded animal. It's just me, Polly, and our house slave Daphne, all of us huddled in the living room that is dimly lit by a few candle lamps hung on the walls. I'm certain that this is more than a thunderstorm. It's a hurricane, just like the ones that used to hit our home in Antigua from time to time. They were always frightening, but we always made it through. Of course, that's when Father was around. I just hope... Suddenly, there's a huge crash and the sound of the blown glass windows being shattered. Then comes an ear-piercing scream. The first thing that comes to my mind is that Polly is hurt. I panic as I run across the room to her. She is covering her face and crying, but she doesn't appear to be in pain. 33 — Indigo Girl

Polly covers her face to protect herself from the shattering glass.

I look around the room to see what made the crash. I see that a branch from the giant oak tree in front of the house has broken through the window. Shattered glass is everywhere. The rain is pouring in from the open window, and the wind is blowing around everything that is not tied down. But I realize that the wind and rain are the least of our worries. The tree branch has knocked one of the candle lamps off of the wall, and it landed right on the curtains. 34 — Indigo Girl

I can already smell the smoke, and as I run to the broken window I see the orange glow from the fire starting to grow. I start shaking the curtain, and the shards of glass from the broken window fly up into my face and arms. I quickly learn that grabbing the curtains is a bad idea. The fire keeps spreading, using the fabric as fuel, and the heat is starting to be more than I can take. "Help me!" I scream to Polly and Daphne, although I know there is little that they can do. I've heard horror stories of wooden houses being destroyed by fire in a matter of minutes, and I worry that's what is going to happen here. The fire keeps getting bigger... and hotter! Then I feel a strong arm push me out of the way. I fall to the floor, and see a large man thrusting a mattress over the flames. As I watch from the floor, it's like the key moment in a battle, and I can't tell who is going to win—the fire or the man. 35 — Indigo Girl

As the fire rages, it's hard to know what's happening!

Finally, it is clear that the flames are getting smaller. The man covers them with the mattress, preventing the fire from getting the air it needs to spread. As the smoke clears, I see that it is Edmund who rushed in to save us. He is breathing heavily when he turns to me and says, "It looks like you had your hands full in here." I don't say anything. Instead, I run and give him a hug. Polly and Daphne join in the hug. The winds are still howling and the rain is still falling, but everything seems calm. 36 — Indigo Girl

Edmund stays to help us clean the glass and remove the branches. "I heard a crash from my cabin," he explains, "and then I saw the smoke. I ran here as fast as I could. Sorry I ruined your mattress." I smile. I don't care if he ruins all of the mattresses in the house, if it keeps the house from burning down. The slave quarters are about a quarter-mile down the hill. I'm glad they aren't a half-mile away... because if they were, Edmund might not have made it in time.

He stays for the rest of the night. He puts a board over the broken window, and replaces the candle lamp. Luckily, there isn't too much that has been destroyed. I can go to Charles Town to get a new window and curtains, and the house will be as good as new with a little help from a skilled carpenter. Edmund is sitting on the couch now, and Polly has fallen asleep by his side. Daphne fixes us a cup of tea, and I sip it slowly as the wind and rain die down. 37 — Indigo Girl

The Big House is saved thanks to the help of Edmund.

I guess I can't do it alone. I might be able to make decisions about how to manage the crops and run the plantation, but I can't count the number of times I've asked Edmund to come to the Big House to move some heavy furniture. Or how many times Daphne has gotten up early to fix me breakfast so that I can get out to the fields at sunrise. As for Polly, some of her best friends are the young girls living in the slave quarters. We 38 — Indigo Girl know plenty of "elite" people around Charles Town, and Polly has a few friends of a more respectable social status. But I know that she's happiest when she gets home and takes a walk around the indigo fields with Jenni and the other slave girls.

We're all a team. I like to think that everyone on this plantation wants it to do well. The slaves work long hours tending to the fields, and I use all my energy and knowledge to make the crops grow. At night, I tutor Polly on reading, math, and even history. Jenni always seems to be there, too, and the other young slaves have started to drop by from time to time. I've even given quite a few reading lessons to Edmund and Daphne, and the adult slaves. Mr. Harley criticizes me for this. "You can't educate the slaves." he said sternly to me the other day. "There are more slaves than there are white people. If you teach them about life outside of the plantation, you'll soon have a rebellion on your hands." 39 — Indigo Girl

Most folks think it is dangerous to educate slaves... but I do it anyway.

I understand what he's saying. I really do. Especially on a plantation like his, where he rules with a heavy hand. I've seen him walk his fields with a whip in his hand, reminding the slaves of the penalty for disobeying him. If there's going to be a slave rebellion, I don't see how I can be the one to stop it. Edmund could break me in two in a matter of seconds, and he could sneak onto a ship in the port of Charles Town before anyone realized it. 40 — Indigo Girl

But Edmund doesn't ever threaten to hurt me, and I never worry that he will. Perhaps he knows that life for a runaway slave is no better than working in the fields. But I like to think that he, and all of the other slaves, want to work together to make this plantation a success. That's what I want.

I can't even hear the rain drops anymore. Edmund is sleeping on the couch, and Daphne has snuck off to her room. I think it's about time I get some sleep.

41 — Indigo Girl

I'm certain that

the next big crop

in South Carolina

will be indigo.

5 — Earning a Reputation

Forget about rice. Forget about cotton. Forget about tobacco, or ginger, or sugarcane. The next big crop in South Carolina is indigo. I'm certain of it. The year is 1743 now, and my guess is that folks in South Carolina will be growing indigo through the end of the century. It might be too early to say this, of course. After all, rice has proven to be the staple crop of this area for over fifty years now. But it's so hard to grow, and your plantation has to be on just the right piece of land. 42 — Indigo Girl

I think indigo is much more durable than that. I think we'll be able to grow it anywhere around Charles Town, and without nearly as much expertise. My indigo harvests have improved so much over the past few years that it's impossible for me not to get excited. Other people are starting to notice, too. When I go into Charles Town, a lot of wealthy men ask, "How's the indigo crop coming along this year?" or "When can we get a hand on some of your indigo seeds?" When I first came to South Carolina, nobody paid much attention to me when I walked through the merchant shops in Charles Town. Maybe it's because I looked so young, or maybe they just hadn't seen me around before. Perhaps now that I'm in my twenties the other plantation owners feel that I might be able to carry on a conversation. But I think it's the indigo. Plain and simple. These men have stopped by my plantation and seen the indigo fields blossoming. And I think that word spreads fast. 43 — Indigo Girl

Everybody keeps asking me questions about my indigo fields.

Today I was in the wheelwright's shop when I saw Mr. Jacobson. He said, "I know that your slaves are working in the indigo fields during the summer months. After October, they aren't nearly as busy. Is that right?" He seemed to be making casual conversation. But I know that he really was saying something like this: "On my rice plantation, I need to harvest the crop in early fall. If I can grow a good indigo crop, my slaves can work on it over the summer while the 44 — Indigo Girl

rice is still under water. When the indigo is harvested, they can start working on the rice." Mr. Jacobson knows that his plantation will be far more profitable if he adds indigo fields. He's right. That's what Father and I had hoped for when he sent me the seeds. Of course, there are still the men who can't believe that a young woman can manage a plantation, much less a successful one. Mr. Harley still makes his snide remarks when he comes to visit. But even he can't help gaze over the indigo fields and see how strong the plants appear. Then he cleverly asks questions about the seeds and the methods I am using, and it doesn’t fool me when he pretends to roll his eyes at my answers. Mr. Harley might not like to see a woman running a plantation—but he does like to see a crop that can grow in South Carolina and make him some money someday. For that reason, I'm sure he's happy to have me around.

45 — Indigo Girl

Father has sent Mr.

Cromwell to help turn my indigo into a dye that can be sold for a profit.

6 — The Swindler

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Cromwell." I hold out my hand, ready for a firm handshake. "Likewise, Madam," he says, grabbing my hand gently the way you might help an old lady down some steep steps. I think I would have preferred the firm handshake. But I need to remind myself that Father didn’t hire this man because he has a good handshake. Nicholas Cromwell has been brought in for an important task. Now that I've been able 46 — Indigo Girl to grow the indigo so well, it's time that I learn to turn its blue flowers into a dye that can color clothes and fabric. That's where Mr. Cromwell comes in. He's from one of the islands near Antigua, and is an expert at turning the indigo plant into a dye that we can ship to England. From there, it can be sold around the world. If that can happen, indigo will be one crop that everyone around here will be happy to grow. There is, of course, one reason to be hesitant. Mr. Cromwell is from an island that is a colony of France, and Father has warned me many times to "keep an eye on the French." Father’s warnings are a little biased, of course, because the French and the British are always involved in some sort of rivalry. So he’s probably not the best person to judge the character of a Frenchman. That just shows what a great reputation Mr. Cromwell must have for Father to send him here at all. 47 — Indigo Girl

I am excited to start turning the indigo into a dye!

"Let us get started, shall we?" asks Mr. Cromwell. "Of course," I respond, excited that he is ready to get down to work. I walk him to a shed that Edmund and a few other handy slaves have built near the fields. "One hundred pounds,” I say. "That's how much indigo I think we'll be able to harvest with this crop. It's growing in the fields now. I just need to know how to take it from the fields and get it onto the ships in Charles Town." 48 — Indigo Girl

Mr. Cromwell knows what I mean by that. I can't just pick an indigo plant and send it to England. By the time it arrives, it will look like a shriveled weed—not something that can turn a plain white cloth into a bold, blue color. There's a trick to turning indigo into a dye—or at least a dye that you can sell. First, you have to take the dark, blue flowers from the indigo plant and "liquefy" them, so that you have a batch of what looks like pen ink. But that's the easy part. To get the dye ready to ship to Europe, you need to dry it again, which turns it into a firm material that can be placed easily as cargo on a ship. That part is a lot trickier. Mr. Cromwell claims that he has the answer. He has worked with indigo in the West Indies, and he knows how to turn the liquid dye into "dye-cakes." These will be easy to handle and can last for several months on the ship. Once they get to England, they can be shipped to the textile factories, turned back into a liquid, and used to dye the fabric. 49 — Indigo Girl Mr. Cromwell assures me that

he knows the secret for getting indigo dye to England.

"Relax, madam," Mr. Cromwell says to me in his heavy accent, which sounds a little French, but more like someone who has lived a long time on the islands. "You have grown the indigo. Now I will take it from here," he says with confidence. I nod. I'm not comfortable putting my valuable indigo into the hands of a man I just met... but I also know that I need help.

***

50 — Indigo Girl

Over the past few days, Mr. Cromwell has been out in the fields, showing the slaves the proper way to harvest the indigo so that he can use it to make his dye-cakes. I guessed right that about one hundred pounds of the indigo plant was gathered in the shed. If we can get it to Europe as a dye, I'm sure we can grow much more. But I don't want to get ahead of myself. I ask Mr. Cromwell to just take a few pounds of the plant to use for the first batch. That way, if it doesn't work as planned, the entire crop won't be ruined. "Of course, Madam. You don't have to worry about a thing," Mr. Cromwell says. He is always saying that. I spend as much time as I can listening to Mr. Cromwell explain the dyeing process. Of course, it's not as much time as I'd like. My schedule is too busy for that. Aside from running the plantation (which is a huge task), I've had to take part in the "social events" around Charles Town. I quickly learned that these were not to be 51 — Indigo Girl I am constantly being invited to these fancy parties in Charles Town. skipped, unless I wanted everyone to think I was a strange outsider filled with hate for my neighbor. As a young woman who is not married, I am constantly invited to teas and dances and town gatherings. It seems like there is always something on my calendar that requires me to wear a fancy dress. These events can be a little stuffy, but they can also be nice. I spent years getting a fine education in England, and it gives me a chance to use it. Most of my days are spent 52 — Indigo Girl walking through indigo fields, where all I think about is the weather, and the soil, and the number of hours in the day. It's nice to talk to Mrs. Garrison about a symphony composed by Johann Bach, or to discuss with Mrs. Sherman the new university that Benjamin Franklin has founded in Pennsylvania (they say it will be as distinguished as Harvard). I enjoy plantation life, but these are hardly the conversations I can have with Edmund or Daphne, or any of the slaves. Even Polly finds them a bit boring. The most exciting topics I get to discuss are with the notable men of the area. They often talk about worldly issues, such as the new areas where Britain is trying to colonize (and how the Spanish are trying to beat them to it). It's been nearly a century since the King of England first granted the land in South Carolina to his Lord Proprietors. The success of this New World is one reason why Britain is so anxious to claim more areas around the globe. 53 — Indigo Girl I know that many of the elite citizens I meet may become valuable contacts. Of course, my decision to attend these social gatherings is not just to get into a good conversation. I am getting to meet all of the elite citizens around Charles Town. If I have success with my indigo, I know that these contacts will come in handy.

But sometimes these fancy parties are a distraction. Like now, when I just want to know how my indigo dye is coming along. I’ve asked Mr. Cromwell to meet with me on several occasions, but he always says, "Don't worry, Madam. I have it all under control." 54 — Indigo Girl

Perhaps he’s one of those men who feels that a woman is not to be bothered with the details. That’s not okay to me. When I raise a direct question about how to harvest the indigo, or how to extract the dye, or how to store the finished product… I expect a better answer than “Don’t worry about it, Madam.” To put it simply, I don’t think I like Mr. Cromwell. It might be that I’m like Father, and my loyalties to Britain make it hard for me to trust anyone with ties to the French. But I think it’s more than that. Sometimes you know better than to trust someone. That’s how I feel about Mr. Cromwell. As I am walking across the plantation, I see Mr. Cromwell go into the shed where we keep the harvested indigo. I shout to Edmund, who is plowing a field nearby. "Yes, Miss Eliza," he says after he runs over. I'm sure he's happy to have a small break. "Have you seen Mr. Cromwell today?” I ask. 55 — Indigo Girl

Why is Mr. Cromwell being so secretive about what he's doing in the indigo shed?

“Just like everyday, I saw him walking across the field, right to the shed,” answers Edmund. “But he don’t say nothing to me. Never does. He always heads right for the shed.” “Come with me, Edmund,” I say, and begin walking to the shed.

I knock on the door. There is a long pause, and I’m sure Mr. Cromwell is deciding whether or not to bother answering. Luckily, he does. 56 — Indigo Girl

“Madam, what brings you here?” He says, as if he is surprised to see me on my own plantation. I walk inside without being invited, and I’m glad to hear Edmund’s footsteps following behind me. I’d rather not talk to Mr. Cromwell alone. “I just wanted to see how things are coming along,” I say very politely. There is no need to be rude. All of my suspicions about Mr. Cromwell are from a gut feeling, nothing that he has actually done. For all I know, he is making great progress. “Not well,” he says, putting an end to my wishful thinking. “I’m afraid that the dye didn’t come out the way I had hoped.” I don’t say anything right away. If Mr. Cromwell was having trouble, I wished he would have said something before now. “That’s okay,” I say, trying to stay calm. And there is really no reason not to be calm. We have plenty of indigo plants left, and I know there’s a certain amount of trial and error when trying to do something new. 57 — Indigo Girl

All of my healthy indigo plants have been ruined!

“The first batch might not have gone well, but we have plenty more to work with.” Mr. Cromwell shakes his head. “I’m afraid not, Madam. All of the indigo is ruined.” At first I don’t understand. Certainly he didn’t say what I just think he said. Did he say it was all ruined? All one hundred pounds of the indigo plant? Yet his words were very clear. “I’m not sure I understand, Mr. Cromwell,” I say, even though I am pretty sure that I do understand. “I thought we were 58 — Indigo Girl going to work with just a small amount to start, and then we would try to turn the rest of the indigo into a dye.” “Excuse me, Madam,” replies Mr. Cromwell, “but this indigo is not fit to use.” I walk over to the bundle of indigo that has been harvested. He is right, this indigo is not fit to turn into a dye. The blue flowers are almost black, and green leaves are dried out and shriveled. But there is one problem. These are not the plants that came from the fields. Those plants were healthy and strong. This pile of indigo looks like someone has poured lime—or some other harsh chemical—over top of it. “What happened?” I say, truly baffled. Mr. Cromwell looks straight at me, as if nothing is wrong. “I was simply preparing the indigo to become a dye… and I guess it didn’t go as planned.” “Didn’t go as planned,” I yell. “It looks like you destroyed it!” 59 — Indigo Girl

We had an agreement...

Why would Mr. Cromwell want to destroy my indigo?

“Now why would I do that?” says Mr. Cromwell, and I can sense a bit of smugness in his voice. But I guess he's right. Why would he destroy my indigo crops? We had hired him to help. “This was a huge opportunity,” I say to him. “This indigo crop could have changed things in this part of the world.” There's that smug look again. “Perhaps this part of the world doesn’t need to grow 60 — Indigo Girl indigo,” he says harshly. “We grow enough indigo on my island in the West Indies to serve all of Europe. There’s no reason for this colony to try to grow it, as well.” And there is my answer. I had wondered why he wanted to destroy my indigo crops. It was simple. If indigo can be grown in South Carolina, it would mean that there was competition for the plantations on his island. He never wanted me to succeed. Mr. Cromwell was trying to sabotage me before I could even get started. “Get out now!” I shout. “Get out now, and I don’t ever want to see your face!” I know my voice is shaking, and I hope he can’t see tears welling up in my eyes. “Let’s be calm,” says Mr. Cromwell, as if he’s talking to a little girl throwing a temper tantrum. “There’s no reason to yell.” Edmund, who has been standing in the back of the shed this whole time, now comes and steps in front of me. “She told you to get out, sir.” 61 — Indigo Girl

It was clear how angry Edmund was with Mr. Cromwell.

I’ve never seen Edmund look the way he looks now. I’ve never seen him raise his voice or strike anyone out of anger. But I wouldn’t be surprised if he did it now. Surely Edmund knows that they will hang him if he lays a finger on Mr. Cromwell. A slave cannot fight against a respected white citizen, no matter what the reason. Even if Edmund doesn’t know this, Mr. Cromwell certainly does. Yet, when he looked at the tall, strong slave standing before him with his fists clinched, Mr. Cromwell must have decided not to push his luck. He turns around and walks out of the shed. Good riddance. 62 — Indigo Girl

Sometimes you just need a

small step backwards to

take a giant leap forwards.

7 — A Good Year

There’s an old saying that sometimes a small step backwards is just what you need to take a giant leap forward. Mr. Cromwell was that small step backwards that I needed. That was three years ago. Mr. Cromwell may have been a bad man, but he did know a lot about indigo. So if he felt that my plantation was growing it so well that it could compete with the plantations on his island… then I must be doing something right. 63 — Indigo Girl

When I wrote Father about Mr. Cromwell’s deceit, he was determined to set things straight. Father sent Mr. Cromwell’s brother, Patrick, to help with the indigo dye. When he arrived at the plantation, Patrick said, “I’m very sorry about my brother.” And he made the same statement hundreds of times after that. Even though they are brothers, I could tell right away that Patrick Cromwell was a more honest man than his brother Nicholas. I didn’t get that “funny” feeling I had gotten before. But I didn't completely trust him, either. I had learned that lesson the hard way. I let Patrick go to work. He worked with Edmund and the slaves as they harvested the indigo. He extracted the dye from the flowers. He built fire pits to dry it out. I could see real progress. "I think we're creating a new industry in South Carolina," I said to Patrick one day. "I'm doing what I can to help," was his response. 64 — Indigo Girl

But I kept a close eye on Patrick Cromwell. He had a mysterious way of avoiding my questions, just as his brother did. The mention of the name "Nicholas Cromwell" still makes me angry. After a few months, I sent Patrick on his way, and I was more than a little bit thankful to be done with the Cromwell family. The next season, which was last year's crop, Father and I settled on someone else to help with the indigo dye. It was my biggest harvest yet, but I didn't want to draw too much attention to it. Pretty soon I would be ready to ship my indigo to England, and have all of the planters in South Carolina saying, "Wow!" But I wasn't ready quite yet. Like the Cromwell brothers, my new helper had learned his trade on the islands in the West Indies. But there was one major difference—he was a black man. "Call me Cotton," the man told me when we met for the first time. I'm certain that it wasn't his real name, but I never asked again. 65 — Indigo Girl

I'm sure I shocked some people when I brought in a free black man to help me turn the indigo into a dye.

To tell the truth, I sort of liked having a little mystery around the plantation. All of the local farmers knew my indigo crop was improving each year, and they wanted to get their hands on the seeds. But I wasn't ready for that. Not until Cotton and I had perfected the whole process—from seed, to plant, to dye. In the meantime, I had to find a good answer to folks like Mr. Harley, who came right out and asked, "Who is that negro man I see coming on your plantation. I can tell he’s not a slave." 66 — Indigo Girl

"Oh. He's just some hired help." I said, not giving any more details. I didn't bother telling Mr. Harley that this black man was going to change plantation life around Charles Town. The funny thing is, my new helper was far more honest and just as knowledgeable as the Cromwell brothers had been—or as any plantation owner around these parts. I'm sure quite a few people would be surprised to hear that about a black man.

Now the year is 1744, and it's impossible to keep my indigo crop a secret. If the vast fields of blue flowers don't give it away, the smile on my face certainly does. I am proud of what I have done here over the past five years. There's another reason for the smile. It's my new husband, Charles Pinckney. "There you go again," he says as he walks into the sitting room. "Just staring at the indigo fields and looking happy." I am getting quite used to being Eliza Lucas Pinckney, wife of one of the most 67 — Indigo Girl It's a good year... I'm married, and my indigo is ready to ship to Europe!

respected politicians, attorneys, and planters in the entire colony. He is over twice my age, but running this plantation has made me sensible beyond my years. Besides, we work well together.

"Have you made a decision?" Charles asks as he sits down in his favorite chair. "Of course I have," I answer. The correct choice was obvious from the start. 68 — Indigo Girl

When used as a dye in clothing, indigo will be very valuable to the textile industry!

"It's not a good business move," Charles reminds me, not bothering to ask what decision I've made. He already knows. The indigo has grown at an amazing rate this year. We have the seeds, we have the knowledge, and we have the skill to make the crop thrive in this part of the world. And now I know I’ve mastered the steps to turn that plant into a dye that can be shipped and welcomed by the booming textile industry in England. 69 — Indigo Girl

The "decision" that I have had to make is whether to profit from all of this. I could easily harvest this crop and sell it at great earnings, and do the same for years to come. It will be a decade before other planters in the area can catch up to where I am without having the indigo seeds at the start. That's one choice. The other is to forget about making the profit right away. I could give away my secrets. I could share my seeds and my techniques with other planters in the area. Mr. Harley and Mr. Jacobson and everyone else will be thankful, and together we can raise the demand for Carolina indigo around the world. "It's the right thing to do," I tell Charles. My decision is to share everything I've discovered over the past five years. Indigo isn't going to only thrive on my plantation. It is going to thrive on all of the plantations around Charles Town.

70 — Indigo Girl

Whenever I go shopping in

Charles Town, most people

know I'm the

"Indigo Girl."

8 — A New Decade

The Year: 1750

"Good day, Mrs. Pinckney," says Mr. Smithson as I walk down King Street in Charles Town. "Nice to see you again, Mrs. Pinckney," declares Mr. Carter when I walk into his silversmith shop. "That's a fine serving plate you've got there," says Dr. Willard, who is also in the 71 — Indigo Girl shop. He is referring to the large silver platter I have picked up to take a closer look. It is neatly decorated with a difficult pattern, and I am impressed by Mr. Carter's handiwork. I'm sure this creation is quite expensive. Charles and I could probably afford it, but it's a little too fancy for my tastes. I put down the serving plate and continue to look around. Mrs. Jamison walks through the door. "Oh, hello, Eliza. What a pleasure it is to see you here." This is pretty common when I come into Charles Town. Everybody seems to know my name. I am greeted by the merchants, the plantation owners, and even the small farmers. The reason for this is simple. Over five years ago, I shared my indigo seeds across the colony. With them, I gladly gave my secrets for growing and harvesting the crop, and—just as importantly—the steps for turning that harvest into a dye. I guess I've gained quite a reputation. I even hear that I've earned the nickname "Indigo Girl," although nobody has ever called me that 72 — Indigo Girl in person. I actually like the nickname, but I think I'd prefer to stick with "Eliza" or "Mrs. Pinckney.”

I walk out of the silversmith shop and down the road towards the port. I'm in town today to visit George Stewart, who works with the shipping agents in England. When our local planters want to ship their goods—such as indigo—to England, they usually have to go through Mr. Stewart. The port of Charles Town is a loud and busy place, with workers loading crates to and from the ships. Mr. Stewart’s office is tucked around a corner, and when you're inside you feel like you're miles away from the hustle and bustle. I open the door. "Ah, Mrs. Pinckney, come in!" He rushes to hold the door open for me. I walk in and he offers me a seat. "You're quite the visionary, Mrs. Pinckney." Mr. Stewart isn't the type of man to ask about your day or talk about the weather. He always gets right down to business. 73 — Indigo Girl

The port in Charles Town is busy shipping out crates of indigo dye.

"My sources from London say that Carolina indigo is the best there is. If we can grow enough around here, I wouldn't be surprised if they stop buying from the islands in the French West Indies." I smile at this, thinking of my old enemy, Nicholas Cromwell. I guess the worst of his fears may come true. South Carolina might put his island out of business, after all. Mr. Stewart busily looks through a stack of jumbled papers on his desk. He finds what he is looking for and holds it up. 74 — Indigo Girl Each year, more indigo is shipped from South Carolina to Europe at a great profit!

"The numbers don't lie," he says. "Five years ago, we shipped out about 5,000 pounds of indigo dye. This year, we're shipping out over 150,000 pounds!" He pauses a moment to let those numbers sink in. I am impressed, and it must show on my face. "Not bad for such a young girl." He says. I smile. Mr. Stewart is over sixty years old, so perhaps to him I am a young girl. But I am twenty-seven, and have spent much of the past decade running my own plantation. I have also given birth to two wonderful boys in 75 — Indigo Girl the past five years. Charles Cotesworth is four years old now, and little Thomas is just a newborn baby. So, I would hardly call myself a "young girl." "This is great news, Mr. Stewart," I say. "That's always been the goal. I wanted to find another crop that could make money for the plantations around South Carolina." "And you have," replies Mr. Stewart, once again looking over numbers and charts written on the scattered papers on his desk. "Right now, indigo is second only to rice as a cash crop on the plantations around Charles Town."

Mr. Stewart and I talk some more, going over numbers that tell how much indigo has been exported, and what we expect in the next few years. I leave his office and walk back to my wagon. I want to get home before dinner time to spend some time with my children. 76 — Indigo Girl

I'm glad to hear that Carolina indigo is being so well received in England. I think I may have a chance to see this for myself in a few years. Charles and I plan to send our boys to England to receive the finest education. Perhaps we can accompany them. This will give me the opportunity to show everyone in England just how fine our indigo really is. For me, this is the final important step in what I started over a decade ago. It began with the seeds. Then I learned to grow and care for the crop. Next, I harvested the indigo and figured out how to turn it into a dye. Now I feel I have to do everything I can to market that dye so that people across the world know about it. Of course, the plantations of South Carolina will benefit greatly as a result.

77 — Indigo Girl

Thirty Years Later

The Year: 1780

(the Southern Campaign of the American Revolution)

At age 58, I’m not a young

woman

anymore.

9 — 30 Years Later

All my life, people have always made comments about how I’m a "young woman." I was running a plantation at age 16. I was married to one of the wealthiest men in Charles Town when I was 24. I spent time in England marketing the new Carolina indigo when I was in my early 30s. And I was a widowed mother at just 36. 78 — Indigo Girl

Nobody calls me young anymore. I am 58 now, and I feel I've aged decades over the past year. The war has been raging for a while now, but most of the battles have been fought in the North. Around here, it was almost possible to pretend there was no war at all. But I can't ignore it now. I can no longer ride into Charles Town to visit the merchants like I used to. If I do, I'll be taken prisoner. The British Red Coats have taken over the city since May. I'm sure they'd like to have me as a prisoner, too. They see me as the lady who brought so much wealth to South Carolina. I’m responsible for the millions of pounds of indigo that leave our port. In fact, the blue uniforms of our own Continental soldiers are colored with indigo dye! Of course, I don't care about the indigo right now. As important as it has been in my life, as proud as I am of my work... all I care about right now is my boys. 79 — Indigo Girl

This war with Britain is shaking up the entire country… and my family!

"Mrs. Pinckney," the voice startles me. I realize I have been crying, so I quickly wipe my eyes and turn towards the door. It is Officer McHenry of the Continental Army. "Thomas is alive," he says. I almost fall to the floor. My prayers have been answered. The officer continues, "He was injured badly at Camden, but he survived that terrible battle. I have received word that the British are allowing Thomas to regain his health. When he does, they will agree to a prisoner exchange." 80 — Indigo Girl

My sons, Thomas and Charles Cotesworth, are both fighting for the American cause.

I try to gather myself. I want to run over and hug the officer, but I wait until he is finished. "It may take a while, Mrs. Pinckney, but we're certain we'll get them to release Thomas," he says. "I have also heard that Charles Cotesworth is fine, too. He remains a prisoner, but we hear his loyalties to the cause have never been stronger. If we win this war, he'll return a hero." 81 — Indigo Girl

If we win this war... That is the most important task at hand. My two sons have given so much to help America gain its independence from Britain. Now they are both prisoners of war. For their sakes—and for the sake of all of the young soldiers—we must win this war!

It's strange to look back on it all. I am a Patriot. I want America to break free from the shackles of the British. Yet I am probably the last person whom you would expect to be a Patriot. My father was an officer in the British military. I was educated in England, and so were my sons. My business dealings were mostly with England. I have proved to be a loyal British citizen all of my life. But then they stopped treating me—and the rest of the colonists—with respect. The British Parliament would force us to pay taxes, and never listen to our views on the subject. Now that we are at war, the Red Coats have burned my plantation to the ground and 82 — Indigo Girl captured my two sons. I can promise you that my loyalties to the British will never return.

"I'm glad I can bring you just a bit of good news," says Officer McHenry. "I'll be on my way now." He leaves the room. I can't believe how much my feelings have changed in the last few minutes. I had feared the worst, but my Thomas is alive! It's like the sun is shining again. And we will win this war. I am sure of it. My two boys will come home as heroes, and they'll go on to do great things for this new country. And I will be happy to live the rest of my life with the reputation I have earned as the "Indigo Girl."

83 — Indigo Girl Epilogue

America did win the war. After fighting throughout South Carolina, the British Army surrendered and the American Revolution was over, and the United States was free to be its own country. Eliza Lucas Pinckney was able to see both of her sons, Charles Cotesworth and Thomas, return home safely after being prisoners of war. She also had a daughter, Harriett, whom she lived with in her later years. Both of Eliza's sons would go on to play huge roles in shaping the new nation. Charles Cotesworth signed the Constitution in 1787, while Thomas Pinckney served as South Carolina's governor at the time. The two brothers held a number of high positions in the early years of the United States government.

Eliza Lucas Pinckney died in 1793 at the age of seventy-one. She was already famous for her work with indigo. In fact, George 84 — Indigo Girl

Washington was one of the pallbearers at her funeral. Her work on the plantation as a young woman was documented in great detail in her journals, which were published many years later. Eliza also experimented with other crops, even after the success of her indigo. She passed her love for agriculture onto her sons. In the middle of his political career, Charles Cotesworth Pinckney had success growing sea-island cotton. Cotton would replace indigo and rice as the staple crop of South Carolina after the American Revolution. Growing cotton required a large amount of slave labor, an issue that defined the state through the Civil War. In 1989, Eliza Lucas Pinckney was inducted into the South Carolina Business Hall of Fame for her contributions to agriculture.

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