Chapter 1

Ghostly spirits have cursed the Steamship Sara, built in 1855, by a man known to his peers as, Sir Francis Darake. He named his ship after his mother that past away from small pox. Most of his friends called him by his nickname, Duke. Duke carefully looks over the plans for the trip to Queensland. His finger glided on the map as he checked every path for the Sara to travel safely up river. His friend Frank was very masculine, brown-haired and blue-eyes. He stood by him and shared his views about the river-rapids on the map. Frank concluded that in his opinion, the trip would be safe.

Nearby, the Ocmulgee River stood a parlor, where people gathered for the trip to Queensland. Frank viewed horses coming down the path pulling a Victoria, Sitting in front, a beautiful woman, effeminate and wearing a white satin dress and a bonnet on her head. She had green-eyes and flaming red-hair. The horse and Victoria pulled up to the stall where, Frank assisted her.

" Hello Ma'am," my name is Frank. "Frank is it?" she asked.

"Yes, ma'am and whom may I call you?" Frank asked.

"Rebecca Quin," she replied. With a sweet voice.

He walked with Rebecca and gradually bent over, picked up a rock and skipped it across the water. "Very impressive, Frank." She was flattered and giggled. Rebecca continued to walk close to Frank and talked about her ill mother in Queensland. She told Frank that Janet, her mother, is sick and needed her support. "I'm sorry to hear that," Frank said. "I'm sure she will get better when I'm home." She had a look of despair. Rebecca and Frank encountered each of their thoughts and it was a wonderful start of friendship and Frank wouldn't let her out of his sight. They continued to walk

The wind started to blow a little harder and you could hear the sails flap as it was raised by crewman. The men talked, and worked under the sol of the day preparing for Sara's trip up river.

Nearby, peddlers and merchants prepared to board the ship, counting their bags and gathering a few items before loading.

Rebecca started to sing a song for Frank, with a sweet voice senorous like lovebirds. Softly she sang the words, It's all a world can say, a word or two my way, a gift of presents and sayings like a charm, your world is your fear now, but yet your near, I can't even say the words to express your love, take my hand and walk with me in to a wonder-land, where the birds fly so free and I cherished every moment, and may I say, I cherish it with you. On my own I can tell a fortune a thousand-miles away, and if you tell me that you love me, I love you too. I may not get to heaven, but I try so hard and pray for these gifts I'm given, on this one and special day with yours true, I love you once more.

She ended singing with a twinkle in her eyes. Loudly, Frank whistled.

"Where did you learn to sing like that?" he asked.

"I was singing since I was five-years old. My mother would hold me in her arms and sing me to sleep at night. I'm going to eventually make it to Atlanta. I could be the next Mary Lou Wilks, yea know!" she said. With a twinkling in her eyes.

Loudly, a voice came from the Sara, "all aboard now, Duke hollered."

"Tallyho," Frank said.

The ladies walked on the plank and entered on the deck of Sara. Margaret Rose, a passenger approached Duke. "If I may ask you, when are we are going to land in Queensland?" she asked.

"In about three-hours against the current up river, because there has been word that the Osachee Indians are trying to attack steam-ships delivering by day; this is why we are going to travel by night. On the morrow, I will return from Abbeville and sail out for the ocean through Savannah, weather permitting." Duke said.

"Well, thank you for the information Mr. Darake," she said. Duke tipped his hat.

Rebecca stood by the stern of the ship, and gazed at the beautiful sunset. The sky was orange, and radiant in color. It was a flush of yellow-haze mixed in with the sunset orange, and a pink hemisphere. It was a beautiful sunset and the night was just beginning. Rebecca was sapient and something of a soothsayer. The sky gave her feelings and emotions never felt out of the ordinary. She was weary and prudent and believed in the supernatural. She claimed to have heard voices from the past, but wouldn't be beguiled by people who might take advantage about her feelings.

The birds were singing and flew over the Sara. Black hawks could be heard from the tops of pine trees. You'd see big Sturgeon explode on the surface of the river after prey. It was a delightful push off and Sara's 2-cycle engines roared on, as she headed up river. The smokestacks were exhuming dark and gray-black smoke. The horn was timbre in sound and the people from the banks of the Ocmulgee waved and cheered her trip a successful one.

Dan Tucker was a blacksmith, a native of Florida and moved to Georgia in the fall of eighteen hundred and sixty. He was a wealthy man who had returned from Sacramento, after the gold rush in California. Dan struck a mother- load, panning in Sacramento, near the mountains. He staked his claim like everyone else. He worked vigorously day and night until he gathered as much gold as he could. He met his beloved wife there in Sacramento. Her maiden name was Marlowe Ann Harris. After she married Dan she became Mrs. Marlowe Ann Tucker. Marlowe was something of a delightful lady, charming and very cunning. She always made it a part to acquaint herself in every conversation. Her peers would look in disgust as this rich lady was acrimonious, and she told her struggle in life on how she had to eat wild-berries, when she was young. Her father was killed in the battle at Forge and her mother raised her in a small town called Waterloo, Georgia. When she was twenty-one years of age, she moved to Sacramento and looked for prosper and wealth which she did find after her acquaintance with Dan Tucker. After her marriage to Dan, the couple decided and moved to Jacksonville, Georgia. Then Dan and Marlowe had decided to relocate to Abbeville, where she would build their dream home. The money Dan had received from his gold made him a wealthy man. Marlowe had sought what she desired and it was money.