Being Mary Ro

by Ida Linehan Young

  She noticed the black cannons on the hill overlooking the port, like watchmen guarding the harbour. Mrs. O’Rielly had spoken of a place called Castle Hill, and she assumed this was it. The guns on the site had saved Placentia from invasion more than once. But that, she supposed, was in less civilized times.

  Before long, she could hear the churn of the engine and the sound of the wind flicking the sails to attention. Mary lay on the bunk and fell asleep, waking a while later to Danol’s knock. He carried in a warm plate of beans with pork and a cup of tea.

  Self-exiled! For the next two days she stayed in the cabin and read. Her only company was an occasional visit from Danol. The captain spoke of the young lad in the cabin with seasickness so as not to draw unwanted attention to Mary. Danol reported the next evening that they were outside Halifax and would make Boston in good time. Two more nights aboard ship and Mary would be with her sisters.

  The next day, Mary’s heart began to pound when she heard raised voices and activity outside her cabin. When the voices moved away, Danol knocked and announced himself. She unlocked the door to allow him entry.

  “Apparently some of the men have heard that there is a woman on board and assumed that it would be you,” he said.

  “But how did they find out? I haven’t left the room.”

  Danol told her that Pearce was overheard talking to the guards about a red-headed lady that had shot him and that she was travelling on the ship. A few men came to see for themselves. One fellow notified the captain, who headed the others off in the hallway. Danol said it looked as if the crew knew about her but the captain now had control of the situation. He threatened to go to the nearest port and replace the men if they so much as breathed in the hallway here by the stairs. Danol was confident that she was safe—the men seemed more curious than anything. However, Mary could tell that he might have some doubts.

  By afternoon, the captain sent Danol to fetch her and allowed her on deck for the first time since she had boarded. The captain greeted her and introduced her to the mates in the wheelhouse—each one taking off his cap and fixing his hair before extending a handshake.

  “I’m allowing you on deck since my crew now know there is a lady among us,” the captain said in an authoritative yet charming voice. “I would advise you not to talk to anyone unless accompanied. Mr. Cooper will escort you back to your cabin once you have a chance at a bit of fresh air and sunlight.”

  She was grateful to get out of her quarters even for a brief time. The books were exciting, but the monotonous view from the portal was tiring—nothing but deep blue ocean meeting a lighter blue sky.

  A tall, slinky young lad interrupted the captain. He said one of the crew had tripped on a line on the bowsprit and fallen onto the deck. He believed the man may have a broken arm.

  The captain cursed loudly and ordered the young man to take him to the injured crewman. The first mate took control of the ship.

  “Do you have a ship’s doctor?” asked Danol.

  “No. We’re to pick one up in Boston before heading to the Banks,” the captain replied.

  “Is there anything I can do to help?” Mary interjected. “I’m planning to study to be a doctor, and I have some experience with broken arms from helping my mother. She was a nurse.”

  “First, I’ll check on the man myself. I’ll send somebody to fetch you, if needed. We try to do our own doctoring unless something’s more serious,” he said, before disappearing around the side of the house along the gunwale to the forecastle.

  The same lad came back, looking sullen. He asked Mary if both she and Danol would accompany him to the makeshift infirmary in the rear of the boat near the captain’s quarters. Several crew had carried the injured fellow there, and the captain was waiting with them. Both quickly went below. Upon entering the narrow room, they heard a commotion. A young man lay on a board that straddled two crates, howling in pain.

  The captain let Mary through. She came around the makeshift table, assessing the man’s condition with every instinct driving her to know what to do. The bone in his lower arm was pushing on the skin but hadn’t come through yet. She took this to be a good sign.

  “We don’t have the right skill for this,” the captain said. “Are you sure she knows a thing or two about doctoring?” The captain looked at Danol. “Having a woman on board is one thing, but letting her tend to an injury is another.”

  Danol pulled the coat off his shoulder and showed the captain his scar. “She sewed me up and saved my life. She can do this.”

  “I need some spirits,” Mary said. “If he could have a few swallows for the pain, it would make it easier.”

  The captain examined Danol’s arm, then nodded to one of the men, who produced a bottle of rum. Mary gave the boy a few swallows.

  “Now, what’s your name, young man?” she asked.

  “It’s Tommy, miss. Tommy Duke.”

  “Well, Tommy, you have a couple more swallows of that stuff, and I’ll put you on the path to mending,” she reassured him.

  “Yes, miss,” he said, taking two more large gulps.

  Mary looked at the captain. “I need a stick or something for him to bite on.”

  A short, bearded man pushed a small piece of partially whittled driftwood forward. Mary asked Tommy to open wide and bite down on the stick. He smiled and complied. His pain seemed to have abated.

  She asked four men to hold down his legs. Danol and Captain Ferguson held down his shoulders, and she was ready.

  “Now, Tommy, I’m going to have to set your arm back in place,” Mary said. “It’s going to hurt for about a minute. Then you’ll be able to sleep and your arm will heal properly. How does that sit with you?”

  He nodded, his teeth clenching the wood.

  She noticed his eyes were glossing over from the alcohol. She called for a stool and perched on the seat. Strategically placing her feet on the crate below Tommy’s arm, she told him she’d count to three and pull his arm back in place.

  On two, Mary pulled with all her might and watched as the bone slid toward her and then back beneath the skin in the proper alignment. Tommy screamed and tried to get free, but the men held him fast. Within seconds he went quiet and still, and Mary patted his forehead.

  “There, now, all done,” she said, smiling at the young man on the board. “I just need to splint it. You’ll have to use your other arm for the next few weeks.” Tommy attempted a smile and then passed out. “He’ll be fine,” she told the captain. The other men in the room cheered when they saw what she had done. It seemed that Tommy was popular.

  She snugly wrapped the skin over the break with a few strings of cloth that had been ripped from a dirty bedsheet. She used some strips to tie it off and asked for a couple of narrow boards. A burly gentleman broke two from the crate below Tommy and quickly smoothed the splintered edges with a sharp knife. She tied the slats to his arm to keep them firmly in place. She crafted a sling for his arm and tied it carefully behind his head. “He’ll be sore for a few days but should be fine after that,” she said.

  That evening she was invited to sit with the captain, Danol, and some of the officers in the captain’s quarters, where she enjoyed a fine feast of chicken and vegetables. The men tipped their hats when she entered. The captain told her several of the men had ailments and complaints that they would like her to look at in the morning—if she didn’t mind. Mary said she would be happy to do it.

  The constant fear which had lain beneath her emotions had somewhat abated as Mary readied for bed that evening. Danol came to bid her good night before returning for a drink with the captain. Although relieved by the change in circumstance, this was to be their last night at sea, and Mary was anxious to be in port the next day.

  The next morning, Mary quickly washed and dressed, choosing to wear her modest blue plaid dress and a grey woollen sweater. Danol brought her breakfast, kept her co
mpany while she ate, and then brought her to the wheelhouse.

  The captain escorted them to his quarters. He explained that some of the men would come to see her and explain their ailments. Any ointments and tonics he had were at her disposal. Danol was to stay with her—a condition imposed by the captain. Mary had never assumed anything different.

  She asked to see Tommy. He was resting comfortably. He thanked her and promised not to use the arm for a couple of weeks.

  For most of the morning Mary tended cuts, scrapes, and rashes in the captain’s quarters, where the patients sometimes lingered a little longer than necessary. Danol ushered them out, and both he and Mary exchanged grins after each encounter.

  Mary felt Danol’s eyes on her. “Why are you staring at me?”

  “You love this, don’t you?”

  Mary reflected for a few moments before she spoke. “Yes, I do. My life feels . . . somehow complete, if that makes sense. Don’t you find that with your police work?”

  “I thought I did, but now I’m not so sure.”

  Mary looked at Danol and waited for something more, but they were interrupted by a burly sailor looking for an ointment for his foot. The moment was lost.

  A horn sounded, signalling for Mary and Danol to return to the wheelhouse. Captain Ferguson pointed toward Boston harbour and said they would dock shortly. A party of constables was on hand to take possession of Pearce. Watching as they came closer to the wharves and nervous of all the big boats, Mary went below to her cabin to pack up her few items.

  The whole journey had been incredible. Mary pinched herself on the arm to make sure it wasn’t a dream. Da used to say that he didn’t want Mary’s head to get too big for her, and she now understood what he had meant. She was afraid the flood of new experiences would consume her.

  Mary felt the thud of the boat on the dock and heard shouts and hollers above as the men readied for tie-up. Hearing a noise behind her in the room, she turned. “I’m almost ready. You didn’t give me . . .” Her heart nearly stopped as Pearce stepped in and locked the door behind him. She had let her guard down.

  Mary’s blood pounded in her ears, and a scream froze in her throat. She slowly backed up to the wall, nearly tripping on the stool in the process.

  “What are you doing here?” she stammered.

  “Well, now, let’s see, my dear. I came to kill you before taking the money from your friend next door.” Slowly and methodically, Pearce advanced on her. His eyes were like charcoal and his face pursed. He seemed to relish the terror he saw in her face. He tossed the key on the floor and waved a knife that Mary noticed only when the light from the porthole flashed on the blade.

  “You can scream if you wish. Your friend and the captain won’t hear you. They met with an unfortunate accident when the topsail crashed down on them.” He snickered as he ran his thumb back and forth across the blade. “Now all the crew are hard at work trying to get the sail off them while docking the boat at the same time. They’ll be quite busy. And I have time to have just a little bit of fun.”

  “You’re insane,” she spat at him. “Do you think you can get away?” Frantically, she glanced around, looking for something, some way out of this situation.

  “I’ve been planning this for a few days. And you, my dear, are going to die just as sure as you’re standing here.” If he was trying to intimidate her, it worked. But she would die before letting it show.

  She’d die anyway.

  “Since ‘twas you that shot me, it’s not going to be an easy death,” he said. “I’ll slowly strangle the life out of you. The knife’s too quick for you.”

  He was so close she could smell his rotten breath. She tried to move along the wall, but trapped between the chair and the bunk, she had nowhere to go. It couldn’t end here. Life couldn’t be this cruel!

  Pearce pounced and wrapped his bony fingers around her throat. He held the knife to her eye and pushed his body against her. Overpowered, Mary felt the pressure on her throat as he squeezed. His eyes darkened, and he dropped the knife, groping at her skirts with his freed hand. His lips puckered over his yellow, ragged teeth as he lowered his head toward her mouth. “Maybe I’ll teach you your place before you die.”

  Frantically and desperately, she clawed at his hands and face, but it was no use. He was choking the life out of her. God, it couldn’t end like this. Da, please help me. Black spots formed before her eyes. Feeling her strength fail, she tried to sink back into the wall and away from his cruel grasp and probing hand. The wall didn’t yield. Her frenzied efforts failed. Her hands lost their strength and her arms fell. Her fingers brushed the clay jug on the stool. The clay jug . . . . With renewed energy, she grabbed it. Swinging with all her might, she clocked Pearce square on the side of his head.

  The jug exploded and Pearce let go. His eyes widened as he sank to the floor. As if without thinking, she grabbed the metal pan tucked behind the chair and gave him several more whacks about the head. Adrenalin pumped air and strength into her weakened body. Within seconds her mind cleared. She realized the pan was flattened and Pearce lay unconscious on the floor.

  What she thought was her heart pounding was actually someone beating on the door. Somebody was out there. She rushed out and ran into Tommy.

  “Miss, miss, I was headed topside when I heard the racket from your room. I couldn’t get in,” Tommy said, his voice high from the excitement.

  Mary quickly slammed the door and locked it. She fell backwards and grabbed the wall to keep herself upright.

  Tommy stared expectantly. “Come. We’ll find the captain,” he said. Not knowing what else to do, he threw her arm about his neck and none too gently tugged her toward the stairs.

  Mary and Tommy were met with mayhem when they got on deck. The topsail had indeed fallen. One side dangled precariously above the heads of the crew, while one end had punctured a hole in the boards near the captain’s wheel.

  Her fear turned to elation as she spied Danol, unhurt, near the spar. Letting go of Tommy, she ran toward him, doing her best to sidestep the crew. Tommy was close in her wake. Her heart was about to burst from her chest when she reached Danol.

  “Mr. Cooper, Mr. Cooper, your prisoner tried to kill Mary,” Tommy blurted out.

  Danol turned quickly, forgetting the ropes he was holding, and grabbed Mary’s shoulders.

  “What?”

  Tommy pointed at Mary’s neck and Danol stooped to see the marks. He was instantly furious. “What happened, and where is he?”

  “He’s in my room with the door locked. I think I knocked him senseless,” she managed to get out before Captain Ferguson spotted them and came to check out the situation.

  They listened intently as Mary explained in a hoarse whisper what had just transpired.

  “Miss Rourke, that’s incredible!” the captain said. “I can’t believe you overpowered that man. How did he get free?” He nodded for two men to go check.

  “There will be dire consequences for this,” the captain said.

  One of the men returned, confirming the guard, Wally Morrissey, had his throat cut and was indeed dead. Another said he saw Morrissey near the ropes of the topsail moments before it crashed down.

  Danol wrapped an arm around her as she shivered uncontrollably. “There, now, Mary. You’re fine now, girl. You’re safe.”

  “What’s happening on my ship?” The captain quickly turned and shouted orders to the crew. Mary heard the captain yell for the waiting constables to come aboard as soon as the gangway was lowered to the wharf.

  She watched as five men in dark green uniforms with black bibbed hats boarded the boat. Four tipped their brims and shouted a hello to Danol, then followed Captain Ferguson below deck. The fifth officer made his way toward them.

  “Lieutenant Cooper,” he said, reaching for Danol’s hand. “Glad to have you back, sir. I understand you found the man.”<
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  “Yes,” said Danol. “And I believe he has another murder to add to his record.”

  Danol informed the officer of what happened.

  “Well, now, lassie, I guess he met his match with you, now, didn’t he,” the policeman said.

  “Sergeant Vale, this is Mary Rourke from Newfoundland. She has come to Boston to attend doctors’ college.”

  “Pleased to meet you, ma’am,” he said, his hand warm on hers. “You’ve had quite the day.”

  Mary smiled. He was probably a few years her senior, and he had a kind voice and demeanour that Mary liked immediately.

  A few moments later, the four officers returned with a dazed Pearce, and for once he wasn’t protesting while being led away.

  One of them shouted, “Lieutenant, we’ll wait for you at the jail!”

  “I have to get the lady settled with her sister, and then I’ll be along to complete a statement,” Danol replied.

  “Take your time. Pearce isn’t going anywhere,” another said.

  “I can have somebody go for her sister and bring her to the station, if you wish,” Vale said.

  Danol agreed, giving Vale Bridie’s name and address.

  “You’re in charge here?” she asked, unsure of what his title had really meant.

  “Yes indeed,” he said. “Sergeant Vale was in charge in my absence.”

  “Imagine, I thought you could be a ne’er-do-well when I came across you in the shed.”

  He had no idea what a ne’er-do-well was but assumed she thought him a scoundrel at the least or a criminal at the worst. “I joined the police force when I was seventeen and rose to the rank of lieutenant about two years ago. Though in this case I was acting on my own,” he replied. “I wasn’t in my capacity as a police officer when I went after my father’s killer.”

  She took some time to mull over this before asking more questions about his career.

  “There are more than four hundred thousand people living in Boston, Mary. My job is to keep the peace.”