by Jody Hedlund
“When I signed on, I didn’t right know—”
“Then shall I send you back to our great motherland? Or perhaps you’d like to repay the Columbia Mission Society every pound they have donated, all with the intention of helping you have a better life. Would you throw their kindness back into their faces so cruelly?”
Mercy couldn’t abide the thought of returning to England. She’d have no life save the workhouse. She needed to stay, needed to be here when Patience arrived on the Robert Lowe.
“I can see that my suggestion for a return voyage doesn’t appeal to you.”
“No, sir. I’m expecting my sister on the next ship. I cannot be a-going back.”
“Ah, I see.” Something lit in the man’s eyes, something that told Mercy she’d made a mistake by mentioning anything having to do with Patience. “Then you will indeed give me your fullest cooperation on the morrow as I go ashore and pick for you a husband.”
The desperation inside Mercy tightened, nearly strangling her. “Please, Mr. Scott, I beg you, sir. I vow I’ll not be speaking with Joseph—Lord Colville—ever again. I have no thought to marrying him. Not now. Not ever.”
Mr. Scott started to retreat. “The news of your marriage to a local will surely come as a relief to Lord Colville, freeing him from any obligation he may feel toward you.”
Joseph had told her he would be jealous of the other men claiming her affection. But would it come as a relief to know she was married, that he was no longer obligated to her but was free to live as he chose? Maybe it would.
Whatever the case, she couldn’t let Mr. Scott trap her into marriage. Worse than the idea of marriage was the idea of marriage to a complete stranger.
She had to find a way out of her predicament and quickly. If only she had the slightest inkling how.
twenty-five
James Bay ahead!” came a call from the quarterdeck.
Mercy clutched the railing of the Royal Navy gunboat HMS Forward alongside the rest of the women. The view of Victoria proper was just around the bend.
In moments they’d arrive at their new home, hopefully a place where they could finally eke out a new life that was better than what they’d left behind.
When they’d boarded the gunboat a short while ago, Lieutenant Robson had greeted them and informed them they had a three-mile trip from the Tynemouth at Esquimalt to the town of Victoria.
Thankfully, for mid-September the afternoon was mild, even sunny for the last part of their journey. They’d gathered at the railing to watch the passing scenery—the evergreens that seemed to go on forever in all directions with their boughs outstretched over the water as if to claim both land and sea.
Gentle waves lapped the rocky shore, the low tide revealing boulders thick with barnacles and stained shades of brown and red from seaweed. Across the strait, the mainland spread out for miles, small bays with sandy beaches, along with rugged inlets carved out of giant jutting stone.
Mercy hadn’t expected the three miles to go so quickly. But it seemed only minutes had passed before the lieutenant called out that they were entering the inner harbor where they would drop anchor.
“Oh, gracious heavens,” Miss Lawrence murmured from her spot several women down. “What have I gotten myself into?” She pumped her fan rapidly, her face pale, her auburn hair pulled back under a pretty hat.
In all the excitement before leaving the Tynemouth, one of the middle-class women had fainted while several others worked themselves into states of dizziness. And now Mercy could see that Miss Lawrence was about to faint as well.
Mercy released her grip on the rail and reached the delicate gentlewoman just as her knees crumpled. Gasps and exclamations broke out among the women that another of their own had succumbed to the excitement.
“There, there, dear heart.” Mercy lowered Miss Lawrence gently to the deck. As she knelt, she wasn’t surprised to see Joseph approaching.
After the earlier excitability, he’d announced to Mr. Scott that he planned to accompany the women ashore. When he’d boarded the Forward shortly after the women, Mercy attempted to stay as far away from him as possible and had avoided looking at him at all costs.
Mr. Scott’s threat of the previous day to find her a husband had haunted her well into the night, growing more terrifying the closer she drew to the shore.
“Has she fainted?” Joseph asked, kneeling and finding Miss Lawrence’s pulse.
“Aye, I’d say so.” Mercy focused upon their patient and refused to look at Joseph, even though she desperately wanted to study his face for any lingering affection, to determine what he really felt for her.
Joseph checked Miss Lawrence’s breathing and then dug through the medical bag next to him. “Seems that many of the women are suffering from hysteria.”
Mercy wasn’t sure what hysteria was, so she only nodded.
“Are you not anxious as well?” His question was soft and meant for her ears alone.
She wanted to answer him truthfully, to tell him what Mr. Scott had threatened. But she suspected he’d only propose marriage again. He was noble like that. He’d marry a lowly woman like her without thinking of the cost to himself. And she couldn’t let him do it.
“I’m ready to put my feet to the ground.” She glanced sideways to where Mr. Scott stood at the railing with his wife and two daughters, and she prayed Joseph would finish up quickly and revive Miss Lawrence before Mr. Scott caught them speaking.
Joseph was still digging through his medical bag, albeit slowly, until he stopped altogether. He remained unmoving, his hand in the bag, until finally she looked up at him. His warm brown eyes were fixed upon her, waiting, desiring, asking.
A spot of heat settled in her abdomen, a spot that would easily spread if she dwelt upon how much she wanted to be in his arms, tucked against his chest, with his hands pressed against her back.
She forced her attention to Miss Lawrence but was sure the flush in her face had exposed her errant thoughts.
“I shall miss you, Mercy,” he whispered.
“And I you,” Mercy responded without looking up.
He waited another moment before resuming his search in the bag. This time he immediately found what he was looking for. He lifted out a tin flask, popped off the lid, and extracted a small clear bottle. “Hopefully a sniff of smelling salts will revive her sufficiently.”
Mercy held Miss Lawrence’s head as Joseph waved the vial in front of her nose. In an instant, the woman drew in a deep breath and her lashes fluttered up.
“Oh my . . .” Miss Lawrence said with a faint smile, first at Mercy, then Joseph. “’Twould seem my poor nerves cannot handle such excitement.”
“Then you must brace yourself,” Joseph said. “You still have a great deal of excitement yet to come. Perhaps for now you should sit and rest in the shade.”
Even as he spoke, the women at the railing began to make exclamations. In the distance came the sounds of cheering, whistling, shouting, and even clapping.
Joseph glanced up, as did Mercy, but they couldn’t see past the swarm of women.
“Apparently the welcoming committee wasn’t exaggerating yesterday about the men waiting to greet you.” Joseph’s voice was laced with derision as he helped Miss Lawrence to her feet and accompanied her down the deck away from the crowd, as gentlemanly and dignified as always.
Mercy returned to the railing. Joseph’s words I shall miss you echoed through her mind and warmed her insides again.
“Strike me blind,” Ann whispered as Mercy sidled next to the girl.
“You’re not feeling faint now, are you?” Mercy took in Ann’s exceptionally pale face and eyes the size of saucepans.
“What’ll they do to us, Mercy?” Ann stared straight ahead.
“God save us,” Flo said, shrinking against Mercy as though she could protect her.
Mercy peered at the shore and gasped out her own surprise at the sight of the crowds lining the waterfront. Now she understood the source of the ch
eering. She tried to swallow but couldn’t make her throat work.
Beyond the numerous vessels moored in the bay were hundreds of men. They were swarming the shoreline, waving, laughing, grinning, and calling out greetings. Not even the Forward’s engines and the short blasts of her whistle could drown out the commotion.
“Are the men gonna grab us when we get off the boat and carry us off?” asked Minnie, her voice wobbly with alarm.
“No, of course not.” Mercy tried to keep her tone light for the girls, even though a terrible dread began filling her. She pointed to the wharf. “Look. Policemen are there to guard us.”
At least she hoped the police were there to guard them. From what she could see, there were four uniformed men among the horde. But was four enough to keep them safe? Or were they waiting like the others, intending to take a bride the instant the women stepped onto land?
Ann tucked her hand into the crook of Mercy’s arm. “I ain’t never seen goings-on like this.”
Mercy wanted nothing more than to propel the Forward around, return to the Tynemouth, and climb back aboard. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t been on firm ground in over three months. It didn’t matter she wanted a bath, needed to wash her hair, and longed to launder her clothing. The realization of the men awaiting them was enough to send even the stoutest souls back to England.
“At least they want us here.” Kip dared to smile and wave back at the crowd.
Mercy understood the desire to be accepted and loved. All their lives they’d only ever been a burden, not just to their families but also to their country. Maybe Kip was right. Maybe here, in this new land, they’d finally be wanted.
The HMS Forward dropped anchor in the middle of James Bay, and shortly afterward a longboat pulled beside their vessel to begin ferrying the passengers ashore. The women resisted having to be the first to climb down the makeshift rope ladder into the waiting boat. Finally, given little choice, Mercy and the other poor women descended and huddled together on the benches.
“I shall accompany you.” Mercy could hear Joseph talking to Mr. Scott on the deck above them. “You may need another escort.”
“Thank you for your kind concern, Lord Colville,” Mr. Scott replied. “You are most gracious to offer us your assistance. However, there is no need to trouble yourself as the committee has assured us the gathering will be orderly.”
“You can see for yourself the men are quite rowdy,” Joseph said bluntly. “God forbid that my services will be necessary. Nevertheless, I shall attend the women and be at the ready.”
Mercy heard no more discussion after that. As the longboat dipped under the newcomers climbing inside, she sensed Joseph’s presence not far behind her. Though she might never see him again after today, she wouldn’t forget him or his kindness.
Within minutes, the men at the oars started rowing to shore. The cheering and whistling escalated. Some of the women were beginning to lose their fear and called back to the men, only to have Mr. Scott rebuke them to stay silent.
It was difficult to see Victoria beyond the crowds. From the little Mercy could glimpse, the town had an openness about it that was much different from the crowded alleys and streets of London. The area was cleared of trees, with homes and buildings lining wide dirt roads. Everything appeared to be new and freshly painted.
Once they reached the wharf, two men in blue uniforms came forward to assist the women from the boat. As Mercy’s feet touched the wooden planks, she swayed for a moment, so used to the motion of the water that the solid steadiness of the land made her dizzy.
The other girls held on to each other, whether from fear or dizziness, Mercy couldn’t tell, especially as the calls from the men rang out in increasing fervor. Ahead, at the end of the wharf, several of the older gentlemen from yesterday’s welcoming committee were there to greet them once again.
Past them on the shore, ropes had been erected to form a pathway. More officers stood along the lane, apparently to hold the men back as they pushed forward for their first glimpses up close of the bride-ship women.
All Mercy needed was one look at the eagerness in their faces for fresh dread to soak into her. Men of all types, sizes, ages, and skin colors stared boldly back at her. Their excited grins and undisguised interest told her Mr. Scott had been correct. The men expected to secure brides.
It appeared as though the male population of Victoria far outnumbered the few matrons among the crowd. Even with the boatload of new women arriving, there wouldn’t be enough women to go around. There would likely be many disappointed men who’d have to wait for the next bride ship to arrive—the one carrying Patience.
What would her sister think of all this? Would she be excited at the possibility of finding a husband, or would it fill her with dread too? Patience had never been opposed to marriage the same way that Mercy was. But she’d always been particular about men, telling Mercy she intended to marry someone who loved God just as she herself did. Maybe here in Victoria, Patience would finally discover a man like that.
Mercy focused on the wharf. As for her, she simply wanted to survive and find a way to escape.
“Duck your heads,” she instructed her charges. Perhaps if they didn’t make eye contact and kept their heads down, they’d draw less attention. She trembled to think of what would happen once they moved off the wharf. Would the men lunge after them, grabbing and fighting over their brides? Or would the women have to parade in front of the crowd first before arriving at some sort of platform to be displayed further?
“If you women will line up in twos” came the distinguished voice of Lieutenant Verney, one of the gentlemen who’d come aboard the Tynemouth yesterday, “Victoria’s bluejackets will escort you to your accommodations.”
Mercy took hope from the lieutenant’s instructions. Perhaps the women wouldn’t be distributed among the men right away after all.
“This is bedlam, Mr. Scott,” Joseph said tersely from behind her. “We cannot subject the women to this humiliation. This is no better than a gauntlet.”
“Rest easy, Lord Colville,” Mr. Scott replied in his usual patronizing tone. “While the men are certainly more exuberant than I’d expected, I am grateful we shall be able to locate suitable husbands for each woman so readily and expeditiously.”
“The men need to be carefully screened,” Joseph said. “I insist upon it and will speak to the Female Immigration Committee to ensure it.”
At Joseph’s declaration, Mercy breathed a prayer of thanksgiving for at least one friend among the masses. Maybe with Joseph’s help she’d survive the day.
She didn’t hear Mr. Scott’s reply, as the women ahead of her began to walk down the wharf. Upon reaching land, one of the first women in line knelt to the ground, dug her hands into the sandy soil, then bent and kissed the earth.
Mercy wished she could feel the same joy at being on land after so long at sea. But with the prospect of facing the men, her insides were as topsy-turvy as if she were back on the ship during a storm.
At last, her feet connected with the sand and rocks and then, a few steps later, firmer ground. Her stomach began to churn. She’d never experienced the nausea of seasickness so many of the other women had. But here and now, on dry land, she felt the need to bend over and vomit.
Only Ann’s trembling fingers in the crook of her arm kept her upright. The girls needed her to be strong, to set an example, to protect them.
The men loomed ahead, pressing and jostling against one another behind the ropes while the officers held out their arms to keep the onlookers from falling into the women.
“Lord have mercy,” Ann whispered as they reached the crowd, the hooting and cheering almost deafening.
“Head down, my lamb,” Mercy said, her eyes trained on the hard-packed earth, hoping Joseph wasn’t far behind and that if the men tried anything, he’d rush to their defense.
The narrow path ahead past the shouting horde seemed endless, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t block ou
t their cheers.
The women in front halted, forcing the line to a standstill. Mercy glanced ahead to see that a tall man from the crowd had hopped over the rope and now stood in front of one of the women. A hush fell, allowing her to make out the interloper’s words.
“Miss, I’d be mighty pleased if you did me the honor of becoming my wife.” The tall young man doffed his cap and rolled the brim in his hands. Even if his hair was overlong and his beard in need of a trim, his clothing appeared to be clean, his expression was earnest, and his eyes were tired but kind.
The stunned silence spread with murmurs of, “It’s Pioneer, the Cariboo miner.”
Mercy attempted to see which of the women had gained the proposal.
“Sophia Shaw,” Ann whispered the answer.
Even as two constables wound their way toward the miner, Pioneer pulled something out of his pocket and shoved it into Sophia’s hands. “If you take me up on my offer, here’s two thousand pounds to use toward buying yourself wedding clothes.”
At the generous offer, whistles and gasps filtered through the crowd. The constables stopped to watch Sophia, apparently as shocked as everyone else at the turn of events.
For a long moment, Sophia stared at Pioneer, then back at the wad of money in her hands. Mercy guessed Sophia had never held a single pound in her life, much less two thousand. She could only imagine the inner turmoil the young woman was going through. The man clearly wanted her if he was giving her so much money.
“These miners are a depraved lot,” someone directly behind Mercy said in an angry tone. She didn’t need to turn to know it was Joseph. “If any bloke tries that trick on you, I shall thrash him.”
Mercy was relieved the offer had gone out to Sophia and not her. Mr. Scott probably would have pulled out his prayer book and started the wedding ceremony before Mercy could’ve turned the miner down.
All around, everyone was watching Sophia, waiting for her decision. Even Mr. Scott seemed to be too shocked by the proposal to offer any words of protest or caution. Or perhaps he was anxious to see all his charges married and didn’t particularly care how it happened, so long as it did.
