The Trader's Reward

by Anna Jacobs

  Rémi forced his anger back. He should have expected his uncle to act in a petty manner yet again, and book the worst of the cabin-class accommodation. Damnation, he should have been specific about having his own cabin.

  He managed to speak lightly. ‘Dear me. What a dreadful mistake! Are there any vacant cabins, Kirkly? Would there be any chance of my changing to a first-class cabin?’

  ‘I’m afraid not, sir. They’re all occupied. But I’ll check with the chief steward, sir. If you’d just wait here for me …’

  ‘Thank you.’ Rémi slipped a coin into the man’s hand.

  After a few minutes, the man returned, smiling. ‘Mr Weldon says you can share one of the first-class cabins, which is much bigger. It’ll cost you another ten pounds, sir. Once you get to Suez, you’ll be changing ships, so you’ll have to make any changes in accommodation for the final stages of your voyage to Western Australia when you get there.’

  ‘Who is currently occupying the first-class cabin?’

  The man shrugged. ‘We don’t have a complete list of names, I’m afraid. With everything changing so suddenly and the SS Peshawur coming into operation sooner than expected, we’ve just had to fill the cabins as best we can. If you’ll take my advice, you’ll make up your mind quickly, or the place will be filled.’

  ‘I’ll risk it. Thank you for your help.’ Thank goodness he’d taken his first quarter’s money as cash, Rémi thought.

  He followed the young steward further forward and was shown into a much larger cabin, with beds, not bunks. ‘If I have to share, this is better, at least.’

  Another man, older, appeared in the doorway.

  ‘This is Mr Weldon, sir, the chief steward.’

  Rémi held out his hand and after a moment’s surprise, the man shook it. ‘Thank you for helping me. I’d have preferred my own cabin, but the clerk who booked my passage must have misunderstood my instructions. Shall I give you the extra payment now?’

  ‘If you don’t mind, sir. We can get that sorted out while we wait for the rest of your luggage, then the steward in charge of these cabins can unpack for you.’

  ‘And the gentleman sharing with me? Is there any word of him yet?’

  ‘I’m afraid not, sir. As you’ll have noticed, things have had to be rearranged in a hurry. I’ll send someone to unpack for you, shall I, sir?’

  ‘I’d appreciate some help, yes. You stewards must have more idea than I do about how best to fit things in.’

  Another man appeared a few minutes later. ‘I’m Jobson, sir. Shall we make a start? It’s best to fasten your cabin trunk to the wall first and work around it, since it’s the biggest item. You need to be able to use it as a wardrobe and chest of drawers, but to close it when not in use. If you have the key, we’ll unlock it and set things up.’

  Rémi took out his keys and unlocked the trunk. He’d taken a friend’s advice and bought the largest size of cabin trunk, which was made to stand on one of its smaller ends and open out into two halves, one a miniature wardrobe holding his jackets, shirts and trousers on wooden hangers, the other side having five drawers of different depths, the top one for his cologne, soap and hairbrushes.

  At the moment the drawers were fastened into place by a long metal rod, with a padlock on the end. He unlocked and removed that, then stood back.

  Jobson moved about quickly, unpacking Rémi’s carpet bag into the drawers under the bed and explaining about the ship’s sanitary facilities as he worked. ‘I’m sure you’ll want to set up your writing slope yourself, sir, and unpack your own books.’

  He walked across the cabin, all of five paces compared to the smaller cabin’s three paces. ‘This wooden panel is hinged and swings up to form a desk.’ He raised the flap and locked it into position with two supports. ‘Best not to leave anything on the top in rough weather.’

  When that was done, the steward outlined the dining and social arrangements, mentioning the day room as a place where the passengers congregated.

  Rémi tipped him half a guinea, because his friend had advised generosity in tipping, as it could make a big difference to service. After all, you were on a steamship for a long time.

  The steward left with a smile and Rémi closed the door. He sat down on the bed, staring round, getting used to the space which would be his home for the next few weeks. But even this larger cabin felt cramped and he could imagine how it’d feel to be locked down here during stormy weather. He prayed he’d get on well with his travelling companion.

  He hoped he’d never see or hear from his father’s brother again. His uncle’s lawyers would be handling the payments in conjunction with his own lawyer and it had been arranged that all communication with the family would be through his cousin James. Even so, he’d be careful what he said to his cousin. If he wrote.

  Rémi grinned. He was now well and truly a remittance man.

  He stood up, impatient with himself for dwelling on his damned family. He’d go up on deck and watch the ship leave. It’d be his last ever sight of England, after all.

  Was he sad about that? He didn’t know. Heaven alone knew what his new life would be like, but it couldn’t be much worse than his old one.

  He had to find something to do with himself once he’d found somewhere to live. But what?

  He was going out to a British colony, one with a great deal of land still unsettled, he gathered, but he wasn’t some strapping brute who could clear land for himself and become a farmer or grazier.

  He glanced at himself in the mirror and grimaced. Tall and spindly, more brain than brawn. There must be opportunities for an educated man to make an interesting and productive life for himself in Perth, surely?

  On that thought he went up on deck, keeping out of the way of sailors as he studied the bustling harbour. So many ships. Where were they all going?

  ‘Exciting, isn’t it?’

  He turned to see a middle-aged man standing nearby. ‘Very exciting.’ He offered his hand. ‘I’m Rémi Newland.’

  ‘Hector Tardew, off to Sydney.’

  ‘I’m going to Western Australia.’

  ‘Ah, yes. Usually you’d disembark at Albany and take a coastal steamer to the capital, but they’ve had to juggle things about, due to the sinking of the SS Rangoon. Got family in Perth, have you?’

  ‘No. I’m just chancing my luck.’ He wasn’t sure yet whether to tell anyone he was a remittance man. It was rather embarrassing. On the other hand, he didn’t wish to build his new life on lies.

  ‘You should have gone to Sydney, Newland. More opportunities for an enterprising chap there.’

  ‘Well, I can always move across the country later, can’t I, if I’m not happy in the west?’ Actually, he realised, his uncle would have no way of knowing where he was.

  ‘I suppose so. You’d have to sail round the coast of Australia. There isn’t a road across the continent yet and won’t be for a long time, if ever. It’s two thousand miles away and mainly desert, after all, so who would want to travel by land?’

  They chatted for a while, joined by two more gentlemen travellers, who then introduced them to their wives, and the pretty daughter of one. She clearly didn’t consider Rémi worth flirting with. He was too old for her, no doubt.

  That was a relief, because she seemed like a mere child to him and he had no desire to pay her any attention. Well, he’d lost his taste for flirting with young virgins years ago. What was the point when you couldn’t afford to marry?

  Besides, he found older women more interesting both in and out of bed. They had far more to talk about.

  There were shouts and cries as another passenger hurried on to the ship. He looked pale and winced as a sailor spoke loudly to him.

  Been drinking too much, Rémi guessed. Then he wondered whether this was his travelling companion. Oh hell, he prayed not. The last thing he wanted to do was share his cabin with a boozer.

  While he was standing chatting, the steerage passengers were brought on to the ship. Some immediately r
ushed to the smaller length of rail allotted to them at the rear of the ship, probably wanting to bid farewell to their homeland.

  But one of the stewards shooed them towards the hatch, insisting they go below.

  ‘Look at them!’ one lady said scornfully. ‘No better than animals.’

  Rémi didn’t say anything, but his expression must have shown his disgust with this statement, because she looked at him sharply and turned her back on him with a swish of her skirts.

  He thought the steerage passengers were remarkably well behaved, given that they were being sent straight below. He was particularly struck by a young fellow shepherding a woman carrying a baby and making sure no one bumped into her. Such an intelligent, lively face, the man had. Rémi would like to chat to him and find out what had made him choose to emigrate.

  In London, he’d made friends with several men from what his uncle would have called ‘the lower classes’, among them mechanics and clerks of various kinds, whom he’d found just as intelligent – or stupid! – as people from the wealthier classes. That attitude would have disgusted his uncle if he’d known about it, but Rémi had kept his personal leisure activities deliberately vague, talking of readings, concerts and free lectures when asked. And he had indeed engaged in all those activities.

  The ordinary men he’d met had been eager to learn just about anything, and some had far outstripped Rémi in their practical application of the knowledge they’d won with so much difficulty. The man he’d been watching just now had reminded him of them, something about the alert way he was assessing his new world.

  The young woman beside him, presumably his wife, had an elegant face and hair of a lovely colour, neither auburn nor brown, but somewhere in between. Her eyes were bright with interest in what was going on around her. That sort of expression suggested a good brain, whatever the gender of its owner.

  Rémi smiled. Another heresy to the Newlands. His uncle in particular didn’t believe females to be capable of rational thought. Not even about their domestic domain. What an arrogant despot he was! How wonderful to think that Rémi would never have to see him again.

  Later, once the ship’s crew finished their final preparations, the steerage passengers were allowed up on deck again and crowded together at the rail nearest to the land. Some were openly weeping, others grim-faced, while most of the children looked excited.

  Tugs began to pull the steamship away from its mooring and it headed slowly out towards open water.

  There were tears on the faces of some cabin-class passengers, too, but Rémi didn’t feel sad. ‘So it begins,’ he murmured.

  He didn’t realise he’d spoken aloud until the elderly lady now standing next to him sighed and said sadly, ‘At my age, I shall never see England again.’

  ‘Are you going out to join your family, ma’am?’

  ‘Yes. My son and his wife. I’ve never even met my grandchildren. They have four now, two boys and two girls.’

  ‘You’re lucky to have family waiting for you.’

  ‘Don’t you have anyone there?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why are you going, then?’

  He decided suddenly to tell people the truth. ‘It was suggested to me rather strongly by my uncle, who paid me to leave England.’ He let out a choke of laughter. ‘I didn’t mean to tell anyone that, then I suddenly decided to start my new life by telling the truth, something I often avoided in my dealings with my uncle, for the sake of household peace.’

  She looked at him thoughtfully, then smiled as if she approved of what she saw. ‘Life brings comfort in the strangest ways. I love my family dearly, which is why I’m going all the way to Australia to join them. I’m sorry you’re alone in the world, but maybe you’ll marry and make your own family out there.’

  ‘I’m a bit old for that sort of thing.’

  She laughed gently. ‘You seem quite young to me. And I’m sure you’ll make friends in the new country. You seem personable enough, with time to be polite to an old lady like me, even.’

  He grinned. ‘I find you easy to talk to, ma’am.’

  ‘Offering me compliments, too. I like that.’

  ‘I offered you the simple truth.’ He found himself chatting to her for quite a while and she seemed pleased with his company too. That comforted him, reminded him that he was quite good at making friends.

  The man who’d come on board at the last minute didn’t join them, so after a while Rémi went down to the cabin and found he was right in his guess. For better or worse, that man was to share his cabin.

  By the time Rémi got to his cabin, his fellow occupant was sprawled on the other bed, fully dressed, snoring loudly. A strong smell of brandy proved to come from an overturned hip flask. Rémi went across to pick it up and screw the lid on the small amount still left in it. He studied the labels on the luggage. ‘Jeffrey Barrett of Marlborough, Wiltshire.’

  ‘Well, Mr Barrett, even with the extra space, I shan’t enjoy travelling with a drunken sot,’ he said aloud.

  He went to dine with the other cabin passengers, but was tired by now, so didn’t linger after the meal.

  When he came back, the cabin was dark, but the lamps had been lit and turned down low. He turned up the lamp attached to the wall near his bed and got undressed. He might be physically tired, but he was far too tense to sleep, so decided to read for a while.

  At that moment, loneliness hit him hard, and he sucked in a painful breath. But he didn’t intend to give in to his low spirits. He’d been lonely before and had a sure cure. He pulled out his volume of Samuel Smiles’ book Self-Help and opened the book at random, reading the first paragraph on the page:

  ‘The battle of life is, in most cases, fought uphill; and to win it without a struggle were perhaps to win it without honour. If there were no difficulties there would be no success; if there were nothing to struggle for, there would be nothing to be achieved.’

  It seemed as if fate was both comforting him, at the same time as telling him to stiffen his spine. Since his parents’ death, he’d come to appreciate Mr Smiles’ wise words and now he decided to let the man help point the way for him.

  Many years of his life had been wasted on family duty after he’d been tricked into accepting legal responsibility for his father’s debts. He didn’t intend to waste another moment, but would try to make a new life for himself, however uphill a struggle that meant.

  He wasn’t sure making money would be his main goal, because that didn’t seem to have made his uncle happy, though it’d be good to have another source of income, just in case the remittance money stopped.

  He wasn’t sure about marrying, either, had come to the conclusion years ago that he was meant to remain a bachelor.

  Surely there must be something he could do in the colony that would be worthwhile, something he’d enjoy?

  10

  When the family woke the next morning, the sea wasn’t as calm as it had been the day before. ‘Brisk’ was the word the stewards used.

  ‘My head feels a bit mazey-dazey,’ Ma said. ‘I think I’ll be all right as long as I can just lie here. I’m not at all hungry, but I’d love a cup of tea. Will they mind if I don’t get up?’

  ‘I’m sure they won’t mind at all. Especially if it stops you from being sick.’

  Pa patted his wife’s hand. ‘I’ll get some breakfast, because I am hungry, then I’ll come back to keep an eye on you, love.’

  Fergus turned to Cara, glad to see she wasn’t looking ill. ‘How are you? Would you like me to bring you a cup of tea?’

  ‘I feel fine. Hungry, though. I’d rather get a proper breakfast while Niamh doesn’t need me. I fed her earlier.’

  ‘Come and join us for breakfast as soon as you’re ready. I’ll keep you a seat.’

  He found Sean and Mal chatting to another lad, though from the smear of jam on Mal’s cheek, they’d had something to eat. Fergus made sure the two boys still had a good, hearty breakfast. They ate slices of ham as well as bread and
jam, and there was fresh milk for the children, though that would stop once the supplies ran out.

  Cara soon joined them, eating as heartily as his sons. ‘I don’t know why I’m so hungry today,’ she said cheerfully. When they went on deck, Cara seemed to enjoy the stronger winds, raising her head and breathing deeply. He found a sheltered area and helped her settle there. The baby showed no signs of distress, he was glad to see.

  ‘Will you be all right if I walk about with the boys?’ he asked.

  ‘Of course I will. They’re dying to explore.’

  He insisted his sons stay near him and walked them round the deck several times, stopping to answer their questions about their new world.

  The mooring bollards caught Sean’s attention, with their larger diameter near the top. It seemed obvious to Fergus that this was to discourage mooring ropes from coming loose, but he checked that he was right with a passing sailor before stating it as a fact.

  He was enjoying studying his new surroundings and working out why things were arranged in certain ways on ships.

  After a while he took them to sit near Cara. ‘While you and the boys were away, Matron came to tell me they’re going to run classes once things have settled down on board. They like to keep the passengers occupied, it seems. Would it … do you think it’d be possible for you to look after Niamh for an odd hour or two? Only I’ve offered to run a sewing class for beginners, women who’ve never learned to sew at all. I’ve done it before at our church and enjoyed helping them. Sewing can make a big difference to poorer women, who can make clothes for their family or even just mend them properly so that they last longer.’

  When he didn’t answer, she added, ‘I don’t want to ask Ma to look after Niamh because she’d probably like to join the class. She can’t sew, and anyway, I thought sewing might take her mind off feeling seasick.’

  Her glow of excitement faded. ‘If it’s too much trouble, I’ll tell Matron I can’t do it and—’

  ‘No, it’s not too much trouble.’ He couldn’t spend a lifetime avoiding his daughter … and she was a happy little soul. He liked it when she smiled. ‘It’s good that you’ll have something more interesting to do. You must get bored at times.’