The Dark Knights

The Dark Knights
A History of Abolition and Beyond


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Amazing grace!
I once was lost, but now am found,
Was blind but now I see.

Shout, shout for glory,
Shout, shout aloud for glory;
Brother, sister
All shout glory hallelujah.

Notes:

This is an idea for a short timeline about abolitionist and blind activist I had for quiet a while and hope to get started soon.
 
The Dark Knights
A History of Abolition and Beyond


img

Amazing grace!
I once was lost, but now am found,
Was blind but now I see.

Shout, shout for glory,
Shout, shout aloud for glory;
Brother, sister
All shout glory hallelujah.

Notes:

This is an idea for a short timeline about abolitionist and blind activist I had for quiet a while and hope to get started soon.

If it's written by you, be sure I'll wait for the moment I'll be able to read it! :)
 
Chapter 1: Batman Begins


James Holman was born in 1786 Essex, England as the fourth son of the apothecary John Holman. Known as the "Blind Traveler," the adventurer, author, social observer and teacher is today best known for his writings on his extensive travels as well as the invention of human echolocation.
Not only completely blind but suffering from debilitating pain and limited mobility, he undertook a series of solo journeys that were unprecedented in their extent of geography In 1866, the journalist William Jerdan wrote that "From Marco Polo to Mungo Park, no three of the most famous travelers, grouped together, would exceed the extent and variety of countries traversed by our blind countryman." By no means an exaggeration.

The Holmans were a family of modest wealth and reputation. The fact that James earned his fortune by manual work meant however that the door to the high society were closed for him. Thus he used his money to set his children on different path all leading towards becoming gentlemen. Unfortunately for James, who was the most restless of them, his father chose the most sedentary career for him, that of a clergyman. Fortunately for James his teacher at the Alphington Academy, who did a great job by all accounts, nevertheless happened to be a fraud with a shady past. His own deeds would catch up with him and he was deported to Australia.
The teacher in question was Laurence Hynes Halloran, who became one of the fathers of the public education system in his new home. Holman would almost reunited with him many years later while visiting the continent but sadly Halloran had passed away one week before Holman's arrival.

He would certainly have thanked him for fleeing from Essex. Without a proper degree the only chance left for young James to earn a good education was getting into a naval school. Thus his years as naval cadet and officer began, opening up a world of adventure. Well that was the theory at least. During this time despite the Napoleonic wars raging on, Holman himself never really saw much action. First he was stuck at the flagship of one of the most cautious and reluctant admirals the british navy ever saw, just to be transferred to North America were things remained mostly uneventful. This didn't prevent him ruining his health during years on the sea. As a young officer cadet he was most exposed to the elements. At the age of 25 he ended up with chronic rheumatism and a dead optical nerves rendering him completely blind (although his eyes looked at least intact). Not only that he barely missed his chance at military glory in the war of 1812.

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The prospects of a blind man at the time were not exactly bright. Although a school for the blind had been established in Paris at the same year Holman was born and the idea had found adoption in England as well, things were less than rosy.
The education these schools offered wasn't sufficient in the least. The avowed purpose of the early residential schools for blind children was to prepare blind students for remunerative employment once they became adults.
Therefore, they were taught the "blind trades" - chair caning, basket weaving, rug weaving, etc.'so that they would be able to find work. However, those plans failed and the blind school graduates were not able to become self-supporting. It was not unusual to see them begging at the same one very steps of the institution they graduated from.

James Holman however was not one to let himself be defeated by dire circumstances. He applied for and an open position in the seven Naval Knights of Windsor. A membership meant a lifetime grant of care in Windsor Castle.
An excellent arrangement, if it hadn't been for the demand attached to it to attend church service twice daily and live a life of quietness and purity.
Thankfully the statues also required (religious) studying which Holman used convincingly as the reason to be granted a leaves of absence to study literature at the University of Edinburgh since the religious part was never written down explicitly. His real reason was to attend the lectures on medicine. In the end he earned himself all the qualification to open a medical practice although his disability obviously didn't allow for it to happen in Georgian Britain.

For reasons of health he was further allowed to travel to the Mediterranean sea, an opportunity he used to visit different parts of Europe and to climb up the Vesuvius. A tour so few able bodied man made that every time it was undertaken the King of Naples wanted to be notified about all of them.

But how was Holman able to take this journey all on his own ?

After he accepted his fate Holman decided not to follow any conventions blind people at the time followed. He did not wear a rag around his eyes, nor did he shrink from the gaze of others. When he ventured outdoors, he did so in full uniform, with as erect a bearing his rheumatism would allowed.
Holman began to use his ears not only to read people, but to read the landscape. In this he was unusual, for while sound is crucial to the orientation of all blind, it is rarely becomes the primary compensatory sense. Conventionally trained blind were thought to rely most heavily on the sense of touch.

The standard method then for negotiating streets and unfamiliar rooms was to directly detect the presence of obstacles through “sweeping” swinging a stick trough the space ahead in a back and forth arc. The canes of the blind were not true canes but often simple switches whittled from trees branches or reeds, bamboo. Most of them were fairly long to sternum or shoulder height.

Holman on the other side taught himself to navigate with an ordinary walking stick. It was approximately navel height, lathed out of hickory with an unadorned knob and metal ferrule to keep the tip from splitting. This was the standard strolling equipment of the gentlemen.

This may have been an effort to call as little attention to himself as possible, but it was a choice that fundamentally shaped his approach to the world. Such a stick was fatiguingly heavy for constant sweeping. It was also stiff rather than flexible, hitting an object didn't send a gentle pressure to the user, but a solid jolt. Its shortness created a very abrupt field of warning and Holman diminished that field further still by the way he held, balanced like a paintbrush in the crook of this thumb and forefinger, not thrusted in an overhand grip.
Deployed in a fashion, a walking stick is a good for limited sweeping purpose. But the metal ferrule could be easily bounced up and down, producing an authoritative series of taps. Holman was feeling his way through the streets but even more so he was hearing it.

The best analogy to describe how Holman perceived the world might be the following. Imagine you are caught in the middle of a moonless, pitch black night and the only tool you have with you are two flints. Now you strike them together repeatedly to generate sparks. Those are only brief flashes of light but if you concentrate enough they may be sufficient to avoid most obstacles.

Instead of sparks it were short burst of noise, generated by the tip of his cane Holman used, in addition to all the other information one could gather simply listening to other sources of sound. A carriage sounded differently than a cart or wagon, even a woman's footsteps sounded differently than a man's. Often a profession of at least a social class, could be discerned by their choice of footwear. This meant that the nice, blind gentlemen could greet pass-byers in polite fashion even if he didn't recognize them by their voices.

Notes:

This is the completely OTL account of James Holman's life (With the exception of the "teacher" part). Almost all the information as well as parts of the text are form the book:

A Sense of the World: How a Blind Man Became History's Greatest Traveler by Jason Roberts

which I very much enjoyed and recommend. The first divergence as well as the first connection to the abolitionist movement will be the topic of the next chapter.
 
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Chapter 2: No Man’s Land


"L'enfer est plein de bonnes volontés et désirs / Hell is full of good wishes and desires”

Saint Bernard of Clairvaux

Holman used his permission to visit the Mediterranean sea as an excuse to go on a Grand Tour from 1819 to 1821. He journeyed through France, Italy, Switzerland, the parts of Germany bordering on the Rhine, Belgium and the Netherlands. On his return he published The Narrative of a Journey through France, etc. (London, 1822). Right after he finished his book he set out again in 1822 with the incredible design of making the circuit of the world from west to east, something which at the time was almost unheard of by a lone traveler, blind or not.
He traveled through Russia as far east as the Mongolian frontier of Irkutsk. There he was suspected by the Czar of being a spy who might publicize the extensive activities of the Russian American Company should he travel further east, and was conducted back forcibly to the frontiers of Poland. He returned home by Austria, Saxony, Prussia and Hanover, when he then published Travels through Russia, Siberia, etc. (London, 1825).

All of these activities brought Holman fame but also considerable frustration. Royalties from his books were forthcoming, enough to live a comfortable life in London but not enough to pursue his dream. It was gratifying to ride the Windsor coach into London and mingle with esteemed company at the Royal Society's headquarters at the Strand (A building he was familiar with, since it also housed the Navy board.) Yet each visit increased his restlessness more instead of soothing it.

With regular members briefings, a collection of maps, and an exhibition room displaying artifacts from the Royal Society sponsored expeditions, there was no better place to keep up to date on the latest geographic, ethnographic and technological discoveries.

Then there were also the troubles with Windsor. In his latest book, Holman had to admit that his trip to Russia had been on false pretense. It was not an idle, short visit to meet friends in Saint Petersburg, followed by an impulsive excursion to Siberia, but a journey planned from the beginning.
The confession necessary for the narrative of his book didn't sit well with the Visitors of Travers College, the trustees of the Naval Knights. They were beginning to regret their choice of Holman. A Naval Knight was by definition “aged or infirm” but a young man mustering the strength to gallivant across the a third of the globe seemed to meet neither criteria. He was far from being the first Knight to stray away form the prescribed life of cloistered devotion but he was the first one to be so public about it.

They informed him that he should henceforth embrace only his duty of praying in Saint George's chapel and would not be granted any more leaves of absence, with the exception of medical grounds. If Holman was going to launch another circuit of the world, it would need some willing and capable co-conspirators.

Fortunately, his adventures had opened him the doors to the Raleigh Club (named in honor of Sir Walter Raleigh) one of the most exclusive institutions in the world. Captain Sir Arthur de Capell Broke had conceived “the idea of forming an agreeable dining club, composed entirely of traveler” and used his money and influence to gather an impressive collection of members around him.


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Fernando Po

De Capell Brok, who had also been one of Holman's sponsors for the membership in the Royal Society, was eager to gain him as one of the charter member. One of the people he met at their gatherings was Captain William Fitzwilliam Owen who had mapped the entire east African coast from the Cape to the Horn of Africa between 1821 and 1826 in the sloop Leven and in company with the brig Barracouta. When they returned in 1826, they brought with them 300 new charts, covering some 30,000 miles of coastline.
The costs had been steep however. Over half the original crew had been killed by tropical diseases. It should not be the last time Own would lose men to Africa.
As one of his crew member later observed the charts “may be said to have been drawn and colored with the drops of blood”. Nevertheless Owen's work made him a hero for the British Empire.

This did not lead him to forget his humble origins as a bastard (in the old sense) who's natural talents and wit had benefited from the hard work of his crew. As he wrote later: “The African survey stands due to the officers who served under me, unparalleled in the Annals of the World.”

After coming back Owen had just started his friendship with Holman, when he received orders for a second expedition to Africa, this time not to survey but to settle it. Parliament had authorized a new permanent presence in the strategically significant Gulf of Guinea.

This self contained settlement was to be build from the scratch, intentionally at a distance from any other European presence and in fact removed from the African continent itself. It would be on an island 32 km offshore, a location totally isolated from any, even African, civilizations.

The Portuguese navigator Fernão do Pó in 1472 named it Formosa Flora (Beautiful Flower), but in 1494 it was renamed after its discoverer Fernão do Pó.. At the time the island was officially claimed by Spain but they had de facto abandoned it forty-six years ago.

Owen was order to lead the expedition to Fernando Po to oversee the carving of settlements out of raw jungle and to serve as governor once he was finished. It was a huge responsibility and not exactly one he wished for.

Nevertheless he recognized that he was the best person for the job and was completely behind the political motives of the mission. His survey of the continent had meant years of firsthand exposure to the slave trade. That familiarity had converted him into an ardent abolitionist.

Fernando Po was intended as the headquarters for a pitched battle against slavery. Owen would command not only a colony but a small fleet, devoted to hunting down slaving ships, taking them into custody and liberating their cargo.
Almost nothing was known of Fernando Po, but in 1821 a British geographer had declared it “the only proper station on the African coast, for our cruiser to watch and cut up the slave route”. That same year the Royal Navy gave Parliament the opinion that the setting would be simple “a very trifling establishment.”

Owen wasted no time putting his own stamp on the the mission. His flagship the HMS Eden was stocked with the most advanced instrument of its time. He also insisted to include his friend Holman as part of the crew, functioning as a chronicler of the journey.

The reason Holman was allowed to go was that he convinced the Visitors that this trip would be good for his health. Something that was at first glance preposterous. The island lay in the center of the “White Man's Grave”, a portion of the African coastline that was five times more likely to kill sailors stationed there than any other place in the world.

But luckily for Holman a recent article in the Quarterly Review described Fernando Po as a little paradise. “A refreshing breeze constantly blows over the island from the Atlantic; it has plenty of good anchorage in more places than one and abundance in clear water.”

It was the report of “refreshing breeze” that had convinced the Parliament to green light the expedition in the first place. Malaria means literally “bad air”, reflecting the then still prevalent idea that the disease was caused by miasmic gas emanating form the swamps and jungle.
Even if they were suspicious of Holman's reasons, they were reassured by geography. Few ships ventured in the area, and as the starting point for a circumnavigation of the world it seemed even less practice than Siberia.

They did once again underestimate Holman's will to fight against all odds. And this time they were worse then ever.

On the first glance things looked good. Accompanied by the cargo vessel Diadem, the Eden sailed away on August 1 1827, fully loaded with everything necessary imagined to create an instant colony. Sixteen complete houses, prefabricated and dissembled. A team of British carpenters to erect them and supervise the building of even more structures from native woods (it was presumed that the liberated slaves would be happy to assist).
Tons of seed for planting crops. Herds of sheep and cattle ruminated on the open deck, the rolling of open sea made them docile. The horses and donkey on the other hand were slung up in heavy weather in canvas restraints hoisted and swaying in the salt air.

They were optimistic, looking forward to their new home. These men were destined to make history, and they would. In the Annals of the Royal Navy, the Eden mission would be recorded as the deadliest expedition of all time.



Notes:

This is still a completely OTL account of James Holman's life. Again almost all the information as well as parts of the text are form the book:

A Sense of the World: How a Blind Man Became History's Greatest Traveler by Jason Roberts
 
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Long introductions are always good when the TL revolves around a historical figure that enjoyed way too little popularity after his death like Holman, especially since the latter had the misfortune of living during the kingdom of George IV, i.e. the AH.com black hole in British history.:p
 
I am interested in this. Please continue.

I will certainly do so. But as Berlinguer mentioned there is lots of stuff to cover about our own timeline before I can get into the divergence. I hope I will have some time soon. Once it get to it, expect a "mass update" that will finally get us to the POD.
 

katchen

Banned
Ironic that Holman has a contemporary named John Batman (his evil twin?) who is working as a grazier and bounty hunter in Tasmania and will later found Melbourne by making a very unequal treaty with the local Aborginals.
 
Ironic that Holman has a contemporary named John Batman (his evil twin?) who is working as a grazier and bounty hunter in Tasmania and will later found Melbourne by making a very unequal treaty with the local Aborginals.

Holman did visit Tasmania in 1831 OTL and had a certain chance meeting Batman. Who knows maybe he is going to get a cameo.

THIS IS Brilliant.

So far all the credit belongs to Jason Roberts and his book. But things will derail soon enough and I finally get to put my own twist on the story.

Holman is a fascinating character who I had no idea existed until now - I'm definitely looking forward to more.

Yes, I found it really strange that he could be forgotten so thoroughly. Even after reading Roberts, very good explanation how this was possible it is still baffling.
 
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Chapter 3: A Death in the Family

Your success and happiness lies in you. Resolve to keep happy, and your joy and you shall form an invincible host against difficulties.”
Helen Keller

Fernando Po certainly looked the part of paradise. It was even more beautiful than anyone on board the Eden had imagined. The crew and passenger were awed by an island so dramatic in its contours it seemed to belong more to mythology than geography.

Holman took extensive notes of his companion's first impressions. “Luxuriant foliage of various tints and hues`` he wrote, blending with the scarcely ruffled bosom of the ocean, and the beauty, that the retiring clouds... formed such a variegated picture of natural beauty that we unanimously hailed it as the land of promise.”

The expedition did not hurry ashore. They remained off the coast for a full week, while Captain Owen sent out survey parties to find an optimal site for the colony.

In the meantime they attempted to establish friendly relations with the natives, whom they promptly dubbed Fernandians. It was not necessary to seek them out, the Eden was soon surrounded by canoes. The difficulty lay in establishing proper relations.
The Fernandian were neither curious about the white people, they had seen the Spanish try to settle the island and fail a few generations ago, nor interested in being enslaved. A realistic fear when one takes into account that their island was located at one of the busiest slave trading routes in the world.

By the third day a Fernandian was finally persuaded to board the Eden, a boy fascinated by a looking glass and the tinkling of a bell.
Around the same time Owen came to the conclusion that they had found the best possible side for anchorage right were they were. And it was indeed one of the most favorable natural harbor in western Africa. A fresh water spring was just ashore. Off to such a perfect start, what could go wrong ?

They planted a flag and hundreds of machete wielding men began to claim ground form the jungle, protected by guards wearing rifles.
Meanwhile Owen asked Holman to help him with an important mission. He was acutely aware that the natives did not just needed to be appeased but to be converted into active collaborators in sustaining the settlement. The Eden's foodstocks would run out long before crops could be planted and harvested. If the Fernandians chose not to feed them in the interim they would starve.

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William Fitzwilliam Owen

Holman was not an official part of the mission. His secret understanding with Owen was that the Eden provided him his escape from England. He was free to wander away soon as the opportunity presented itself, perhaps during a supply run to the mainland. But diplomacy was paramount, and Owen was a shrewd judge of character.

He was well acquainted with Holman's almost uncanny ability to strike an instant rapport with people, even people with whom he had no language in common. He gave Holman and a Lieutenant the delicate joint task of making a first contact with the “king of the island” (actually, as they later learned, the nearest of several regional chiefs).

Accompanied by the mission's only translator, the African Lieutenant Morrison, they paddled to a distant cove and waded ashore. Their reception went immediately ominously awry when Morrison could not even glean the king's name. As Holman later wrote on Morrison: “His Fernindian vocabulary was scarcely more copious than a sensible parrot might acquire in a month; his knowledge of the English, at all events, was so exceedingly defective as to make another interpreter necessary to explain what he meant to express.”

Improvising with gestures Holman at least managed to convey to the chief that he was invited to dine abroad the Eden the next day. Somehow despite the communication difficulties Owen was able to purchase the land they settled in exchange for various goods. Still as a overnight theft and the the aftermath that almost got them into a serious fight, showed them how desperately they needed to find a common language with the natives. So far any attempts to learn the local tongue had been unsuccessful thou.

Maybe the people in the interior were more open to them? Owen turned to a low-ranking crew member “an active and intelligent young man” named Matthew Ellwood. He returned one week later from the mountains, unharmed but also unenlightened, the Fernandian language remained elusive.

The tension with the locals steadily grew and Owen feared it might boil over at some point in the near future. Ellwood volunteered once again and vanished into the forest. Two days later Holman finally decided to follow him, accompanied by Morrison who would guide him trough the jungle. It was already dark when they arrived in the village of the interior people, at an hour so late that only Matthew welcomed them.

As Holman lay exhausted in a hut, drinking something that could be considered tea, Matthew began to explain. Things did not go as planned. The king had treated Matthew not as a guest, but as a sort of hostage. He had been forced to surrender all but one of the bits of iron he had brought for bartering. They had given him no food in return.

In the closeness of the hut Holman listened and calculated. He could hear the extreme youth in the voice. Matthew was, in fact, only eighteen. He could hear the rough streets of London outskirts in the broad Essex accent. Matthew was from the poor parish of West Ham, enlisted as a Supernumerary Boy of the Second Class.
Young Matthew was eager to be useful, but hardly worldly. Perhaps he had swaggered when he should have bowed, or otherwise neglected to strike a proper note of decorum. At any rate, the crisis was now Holman's to defuse.

At daybreak a delegation of chieftains arrived, to provide company and perhaps to underscore the sense of custody. They did nothing, and nothing could be clarified except for the presence of the king. An hour passed, and then another. Holman's companions became nervous but Holman correctly speculated that this was a good sign. The king was preparing for an audience. With all the gravity and dignity perfected during years at Windsor Castle, Holman presented the gift (two knives) to the king once he had arrived in his ceremonial body paintings.

One week later they were back at the settlement, accepted as honored guest of the Fernandians but without having made any progress in the linguistics department. At least now Holman could explain why.
To his finely tuned ear, it was clear that the Ferdinands didn't want their language to be understood. They were, in fact, making a conscious effort to convolute their syntax, to use as many different words as possible for any given item. They also had cannily grasped the advantage of learning English instead, and were doing so at a rapid pace.

Nonetheless Holman had experienced enough of native life to compile the first written Ferdinandian-English dictionary. Not only did he recognize that “there are distinct dialects, or idioms among the different tribes” but also that there was a crucial distinction that proved invaluable in future negotiations. He comprehended that “peculiar modes of counting are made use of, for instance, one tribe after counting to five in the usual way, proceeds to ten and twenty, while another, after going on progressively to ten, starts at once to twenty”. He also concluded that some attempts to find linguistic equivalents was wrongheaded, for instance the European notion of “the king of the island” was best abandoned in favor of the political reality which was far more complex.

Captain/Governor Owen expressed his thanks to his trusted friend by taking him around a trip to survey the island and naming a particularity impressive river after him. It reminded Owen of Holman since the river had an usual feature “ a remarkably large stone lay on the beach near its mouth, struck by the way the waters flowed gracefully past the massive obstruction, as if it were no impediment at all.”

Matthew the bright and brave supernumerary was the first to die. “His complaint was remittent fever, taken on our short journey to the interior. On the third day of after our return he took to bed, from which he never rose again, excepting on the day previous to his death.” Holman sadly noted.

Malaria and the most deadly strain at that.

Holman also wrote he young man's obituary:

“Under the state of mental aberration, he secretly took off his shirt and threw himself from out of the port-hole near his bed into the sea; he was soon taken up, but his delirium continued until he expired. At five this afternoon he was buried in Paradise.”

Matthew's death was the first sign of things to come. Slowly the garden of Eden turned into a graveyard. The dream of a paradise island, Fernando Po free of malaria was shattered. Many took to a regimen considered the latest, most scientific means to avoid malaria. They were keeping the bad air way by smoking tobacco and started drinking more hard liquor so that the alcohol would keep the body inhospitable to foreign elements. Holman who hated tobacco and rarely touched alcohol, had developed his own ideas how to combat the disease. There was however little time to dwell on Matthew death other the threat of Malaria for now. There was much work to do.

Notes:

This is still a completely OTL account of James Holman's life. Again almost all the information as well as parts of the text are form the book:

A Sense of the World: How a Blind Man Became History's Greatest Traveler by Jason Roberts
 
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Chapter 4: The Dark Knight Rises

“The moment you doubt whether you can fly, you cease to be able to do it.”
J.M. Barrie


While the peace with the Fernandians held, the building crews had made rapid progress, patrols began in earnest and as the year 1827 drew to a close five captured slaving ships were swinging, empty on their anchors in the bay.

It was Christmas Day and the entire population of the settlement assembled to celebrate the official foundation of their new home. Owen read aloud the proclamation of he had written. It was a remarkably unimperialistic document. asserting ownership of the settlement lands but guaranteeing the Fernandians “perfect security and unmolested possession” should they choose to store yams withing town limits.

Then came a salute of cannon fire, a final rendition of “Rule Britannia” and a massive festival where all were welcome.

In a grand egalitarian gesture, Owen insisted that everyone present sign the proclamation. Which is why the original document bears not only the signatures of Owen or Holman but the marks of over one hundred liberated slaves. Their scrawled crosses nest neatly in the transcription of their Westernized names: Tom X, Pea X Soup, Never X Fear.

His onshore duties fulfilled, Holman decided to participate in the settlement's main task: the active hunting of slave ships. While he had never been an active abolitionist like Owen up to his point he was constitutionally opposed to systematic servitude of any kind. He thought that “the sight of the poor African, taken from their homes by force, condemned to banishment and exposed for sale, like the herds of cattle, in the market place of a foreign country, is dismal and humiliating.”

With Owen's blessing, he joined a patrol crew setting sail for the Coast of Bight of Biafra, between Cape Formosa and the Cameroon River “where we might have reason to believe that inhuman trafficking was pursued.”

To make a long story short the patrol ship headed back to Fernando Po carrying a dispirited Holman on board. Their foray had demonstrated to him the near futile nature of fighting slavery so close to the source, at least under the present conditions. Royal Navy ships, it seemed could only discover each other, as large as they were. The slavers were swifter, more devious, unencumbered by regulation, and abetted by thoroughly corrupted regional leaders. He concluded his adventure by observing wistfully that “the affair gave the slavers an opportunity of exulting over our failure, and their own good fortune; which, I think was to be regretted.”

The situation in Fernando Po was not exactly improving his mood. The weather had become more erratic it seemed, food was growing scarce and malaria was rampant. The sickness Owen could nothing do about, but neither could he do anything about the abysmally slow bureaucracy. Until the international Courts of Mixed Commission headquarter in Sierra Leone had reviewed cases of seized slave ships, he had to take care of them. Presently there were more than seven hundred settler, slave and whites on the island, more mouth than he could ever hope to feed. .

The only source of food available was the local strongmen Ephraim whom Holman negotiated with for supplies. During his visits at Ephraim's courts he learned that he was heavily involved in the slave trading himself. Under these circumstances he could be counted only to provide the thinnest veneer of support to Fernando Po. The only thing offered was little amount of food at an exorbitant price.

Holman found it a sobering experience to see how African were enslaving their own people as he wrote: “that the slavery he [the African] endures in his own country, where all things conspire to oppress him, is of worse character than that which he suffers under a different rule.”

Returning two weeks later with a modest cargo of sickly cattle, Holman was startled by a cannonball sailing across the bow, then another. Apparently another English patrol vessel had mistaken their cattle for slaves.

Meanwhile Fernando Po was fulfilling its role as a “hospital island” but not in the sense originally intended. Fatal fevers were quickly becoming commonplace, so much so the laborers were grimly joking they had standing orders: “Gang No.1 to be employed in digging graves as usual. Gang No.2 making coffins until further notice.”

When Mr. Glover, the chief carpenter died one of his “stoutest and healthiest men” burst out crying “Oh my wife! My children!” wailing “I shall never see you again.”

He joined his supervisor one week later.

Holman himself was convinced such self-predicted death were from panic or despondency, both “more fatal than the disease itself”. He believed that a healthy attitude and the sheer will to live could trump the affliction. And he had to know since he was battling it for two straight weeks without any signs that he would succumb.
While others took refuge in cigar smoke and brandy, he asked Owen if he could sleep on the skylight of the ship. It might have been a little bit disturbing for Owen seeing his friends silhouette on the glass whenever he looked up but agreed to help him in his desire to get as much fresh air as possible.

That particular patch of deck was “tolerably protected” by a sloped awning, which provided at least partial shelter against the mini hurricanes that swept trough the bay at least once a day.
The death rate climbed along with the temperatures. It was the Eden's sailmaker's task to sew up dead in their hammocks. He had to hurry his work, as the bodies began to notably decompose with in a minute of their conversion from sufferer to corpse.

Holman helped where he could, but otherwise kept his outdoors vigil. “On the captain's skylight I weathered out many tornado.” he later recalled and “Although so many persons were dying around me, I still maintained my cheerful spirits, to which circumstance I attribute my restoration of my health, which was now daily improving.”

Soon he felt strong enough to accompany Owen on his next appearance at the Court of Mixed Commission. While Owen scrounged what supplies he could, Holman was looking for another ship that would allow him to continue his adventure.
It was a testament to their friendship that the famously restless Holman had remained by Owen's side, helping as he might for more than a year. He and his diplomatic skills, as well as his acquired immunity were valuable assets. But once the time came Owen, himself a fiercely independent character knew better than to try to hold him back any longer.
There was time for one last salute to his “kind and respected friend” before Holman entered aboard the Dutch ship “Young Nicholas” heading for Brazil.

For both of them the upcoming time would be among the worst in their life. Owen would remain at his post in Fernando Po until 1829 dutifully fighting valiant but losing battles against both slavery and disease. He made one last final desperate bid, after handing over the Governorship to a civilian, to save the lives of his men. Gathering them together, they sailed with the Eden straight out to the sea and on the way home. In the end it was not enough. Of the 135 men who started the expedition twelve survived, including Holman and Owen themselves.

As for Holman after a long futile voyage, the year of hell, to and trough South America he was back in Rio di Janeiro. As he lay sick and spent on an indifferent bed in the Rua do Ouvidor, he was forced to acknowledge that keeping the necessary pace would require more luck and energy than he had mustered so far. His funds and health were likely to run out well short of his goal. The circuit of the world had once seemed like the grandest of all dreams. Now it was beginning to seem like an elaborate means of expending his strength, of summoning a death at once lonely, impoverished and obscure.
That he was contemplating abandoning the circumnavigation is evident in the choice of his next destination, Argentina. Accessible by passenger service he bought a ticket as soon as he could walk again. His moral was a little restored when he hitched a ride with the Royal Navy ship, HMS Falcon towards the, this time aptly named, Cape of Good Hope. Once again he could play to his strength.
Holman was not only in profoundly pleasant company, a gracious guest and and gifted listener, but a nearly inexhaustible source of entertainment. In addition to his own adventures, which he recounted with storyteller's flair, his eidetic memory allowed him to unspool a vast stock of poetry, prose and even jokes.

A pity directed against him usually evaporated by the first week. On land Holman's acquaintances tended to forget his blindness after a while, but at sea his handicap virtually disappeared. He was a confident hand the moment he stepped on board, having lived on ships for most of his sighted years. It was a limited orderly world, where everything was stowed in a specific place and a maxim held sway: one hand for the ship, one hand for yourself. Ships were build for the grip of sailors steadying themselves at sea. Holman's light but constant touch on the railings and rope-line faded form notice quickly.

Another trick he invented to prevent his shipmates from seeing him as a fragile invalid was to begin each voyage with a stunt. As soon as the the ship was on the open sea he would make his way to the main mast, remove his coat and hand aside his cane. Then he would begin to climb. Ascending the ship's rigging for a sport. A practice called skylarking, which was usually reserved to the realm of young, thrill seeking midshipmen.

It was a dangerous diversion, frowned upon on some ships, banned outright on others. One miscalculation of the ship's roll and you were giving yourself a burial at the sea. Holman climbed to the uppermost point where the sway rivaled the bucking of a horse. He would shout in triumph, wave compliments to the crowd below, and spend a solitary moment in imaginary flight. Life was worth fighting!

Notes:

This is still a completely OTL account of James Holman's life. Again almost all the information as parts of the text are form the book:

A Sense of the World: How a Blind Man Became History's Greatest Traveler by Jason Roberts
 
Chapter 5: Batman and Robin

Friendship is a single soul dwelling in two bodies”
Aristotle

The cape was seen at the time as nothing more than a base for anti slave patrols and a way to monitor the China tea ships. Before he would sail further, Holman planned to explore the interior, dominated by African tribes and the Boers.

This meant mastering an appropriate means of independent overland travel. In his travels so far, he had relied on preexisting arrangements: public transportation, hired carts, expeditions planned by others. Now he wanted to go far beyond the reach of any such measures. As soon as he landed in South Africa, he set about teaching himself to ride a horse.
He had ridden through Brazil on muleback, but his was a far more complicated proposition.
Those were pack animals, soundly tethered and proceeding at an amble. Horseback is an active, not a passive mode of travel: even the most docile saddle horse expects a constant stream of commands from its rider, and can become upset when those commands are unclear or contradictory.

Nor can a horse be fooled by a false show of confidence. Outside of Cape Town, Holman trotted a borrowed horse across variety of terrain. It took immense concentration , but he persisted, gradually growing adept at using the sounds of hoof eats as a sort of echolocator, not unlike the sharp metallic strike of his walking stick on stones.

Another rider kept him in sight, but this was not he same as being led, a fact dramatically demonstrated. As they passed by a public house, a pack of barking dogs beset and chased them, so spooking Holman's horse that it bolted careening widely through the underbush. “All I thought of was to keep my seat, and tug away at the bridle, without turning to the right or the left.”

It took a distressing while for his traveling companion to locate him, entirely disoriented and far from the trail. Clearly, it was a skill to be honed with practice. Holman kept at it, and grew in mastery until he could ride on a horseback for hours without indecent. Although he still relied on guides to point out particular trails, he needed no help on the trails themselves.

Asserting “that if I was once fairly in the saddle, I fancied I could contrive to keep there.” Holman aimed himself at the wilderness. Leaving Cape Town, he wended inland, though the lands claimed for agriculture by the Boers until he reached a frontier station called Caffre Drift. There he recruited a young boy named Robrecht to ride along with him, a member of the northern tribe that called themselves Khoikhoi
The Khoikhoi ("people people" or "real people") were a historical division of the Khoisan ethnic group, the native people of southwestern Africa, closely related to the Bushmen (or San, as the Khoikhoi called them). The dutch settlers dubbed them Hottentot (stutterer) for the clicking sounds they used in their language.

Robrecht as Holman learned had lived until a few month in Genadendal. The first mission station in southern Africa. It was founded by Georg Schmidt, a German missionary of the Moravian Church, who settled on 23 April 1738 in Baviaans Kloof (Ravine of the Baboons) in the Riviersonderend Valley and began to evangelize among the Khoi people. The Moravian Church (originated in 1457 in Moravia, today part of the Czech Republic) had a particular zeal for mission. Many thought that mission work among the Khoisan was attempting the impossible, but in spite of this Schmidt prevailed. He became acquainted with an impoverished and dispersed Khoi people who were practically on the threshold of complete extinction. Apart from the few Kraals, which still remained, there were already thirteen farms in the vicinity of Baviaans Kloof. Within a short while Schmidt formed a small Christian congregation. He taught the Khoi to read and write, but when he began to baptize his converts there was great dissatisfaction among the Cape Dutch Reformed Church clergy. According to them, Schmidt was not an ordained minister and as such, was not permitted to administer the sacraments.

The real reason behind the events was however that Schmidt had begun to teach the natives and escaped slaves how to read and write. Being literate made them better educated than many of the Boer neighbors. This was seen as completely unacceptable above all else. Consequently he had to abandon his work, and in 1744, after seven years at Baviaans Kloof, he left the country but the missionary station and the village that formed around stayed until present day.

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Queen Rabodoandriana I

Robrecht wasn't keen to share where he came from with Holman and when he did wasn't willing to tell why he was heading in the middle of nowhere. We only know that he later claimed that he killed pastor Julius Schuhmacher in self defense (1). The common but never spoken assumption was that he had try to molest the boy. This would explain why the community and church wasn't so keen on hunting down Robrecht after he fled and why nobody in the Moravian Church would later accept him back into their mid so easily.

Holman glad to have found a willing and capable help, was satisfied with the explanation that he was “a kindred spirit” and “restless wanderer” such as himself. Together they ventured into the largely unexplored, unpacified Caffreland (caffre was used then as a generic term for unidentified tribes).

As Holman soon found out they were in the land of the Gaika chief of the Xhosai. (Holman had grown weary of his people's tendency to dub every chieftain a “king” and rather preferred to work with local terms”).
They paid their respect to Gaika and found him “so fond of rum...that both dignity and decency had so far merged into a brutal appetite.” After witnessing Gaika's sad habit of offering his wives in exchange for alcohol they moved on thorough disgusted.

After they had made some way Holman noted in his journal amused but not quit without seriousness either that his young friend saw that “his manor was unbecoming to a leader” and swore never to act as such should he ever come into a position of power. The longer they traveled the longer Robrecht's list of things not to do as ruler of your people grew.

For example the next place they visited was the territory of the “Zoola” (Zulu) who were as Holman wrote “in a very unsettled state.” Quiet an understatement. Their leader the charismatic and brilliant Shaka Zulu had become mad after the dead of his mother. He ordered that no crops should be planted during the following year, no milk (the basis of the Zulu diet at the time) was to be used, and any woman who became pregnant was to be killed along with her husband.
At least 7,000 people who were deemed to be insufficiently grief-stricken were executed, although the killing was not restricted to humans: cows were slaughtered so that their calves would know what losing a mother felt like. This insanity only ended after his half brother Dingane came to power.

Holman learned to appreciate Robrechts presents which he found quiet refreshing, while Robrecht himself had found a guarding and mentor for the time being. There was hardly a better or more entertaining source to learn about the outside world than the man who had actually “seen” it all by himself. Aside from the fact that Holman was pleased to find somebody so bright and adventurous in the middle of nowhere, it was a specific event that really forged their bond early.

Holman was very pressing to go forward, which landed him with a “wretched animal” for a horse “as large and heavy as a prize ox” a challenge for any rider to control. He bravely took the steed to a full canter, an assured pace, but then the horse abruptly stopped in his tracks Holman pitched over the horse's head and hit the ground instantly unconsciousness.

He later wrote about the indecent that:
“I remained senseless upon the ground for some time. When I recovered, I felt a sensation as though my skull had been split open, and on putting my hand to my forehead, I felt that the blood was streaming from a wound over the right eye, and that the skin was peeled of he greater part of my nose; I had also cut my upper lip severely, and felt great pain in my front teeth, so that, at first, I believed that I had fractured my skull, and sustained some internal injury, that would, in a few minutes, bring me to the finale of all my adventures; and I must own that wanderer as I am, my armur propre was deeply wounded a the idea of dying, after all my sojourning, on the roadside at a distance from any human dwelling. The one consoling though was that at least the boy was there witnessing my last moments, affording me that pious consolation of which we all stand in need. I used these last moments as I thought to tell him all my wishes, my fears everything that I desperately wanted to say, before the inevitable, this time total, darkness would set in.”

However the intensity of the pain ebbed up enough for Robrecht to help Holman onto the horse. Then clinging to the reigns, still bleeding but with restored hope and vitality for three hours they rode towards the nearest settlement, where they were greeted by the barking of the dogs.

Still a refugee Robrecht asked if they could venture out of Africa together, at least for a while. Obviously such a arrangement brought some difficulties with it, not the least potential allegations of a improper relationship between him an the boy. In the end however Holman agreed to it. Their time together had reminded him of his grand tour and the time he spend with Colebrook his first and only other traveling companion.

Their first stop on the way out of Africa was the island of Mauritius. There they encountered Dr. Lyall, the British ambassador to Madagascar. He had barely escaped captivity and informed them that Ranavalona I was recently crowned queen of the Kingdom of Madagascar after the mysterious death of her young husband, Radama I.
Certainly she had to be an interesting woman and potentially the first female entry for Robrecht's list of things not to do as a righteous ruler. Indeed later traveler would call her “one of the proudest and most cruel women on the face of earth”. In the end they only made it to the court of Ramanoulouna, “a native Ovah chief whose power is absolute in this part of the island and who has lately of the reigning queen of the Ovah tribe...”

Holman was tempted to make his way across the island to the queen's capital but at the last minute opted to sail toward Zanzibar instead. In hindsight both men Holman and Robrecht agreed it had been for the best. The Queen's bloody reign was by an extreme xenophobia that resulted in many European death.

In Zanzibar they visited a slave market sadly well equipped with “pretty young girls, gaily dressed, decorated with flowers in their hair and painting on their persons” although most of these actives were suppressed during the visit of the English man, since a treaty with Britain obliged him to fight slavery in his kingdom. ” This rather bleak location was also the point for Robrecht and Holman to depart. The former felt homesick and the later felt fernweh.

After a truly heartfelt goodbye they both made their way. Robrecht went back to south Africa, were he heard about Andries Stockenstrom, Commissioner General of the Eastern Districts, and his plan to resettle the Khoi to the "Kat River" near the eastern frontier of the Cape Colony. The Kat river region was an extensive and very fertile area, that held great promises for those willing to leave behind their past to seek their fortune.

As for Holman, he continued his journey, feeling enriched by his time spend in Africa. Not only did he find a lifelong, loyal friend but during their time together he had also acquired a new skill, which would soon earn him the nickname “The Bat-Man”.


Notes:

Finally we got there :):

(1) The birth of Julius Schuhmacher is the POD for this timline. Not much changes until butterflies created Robrecht and his meeting with Holman. The first big repercussion of their friendship will be explained in the next update.
 
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