Boston Jane

by Jennifer L. Holm

  “Are you feeling better, Mary?” I asked, pushing the hair off her forehead. Her head was cool, I was pleased to see. The fever was gone.

  Mary smiled faintly through chapped lips. “Well enough, considering ya’ve been practicing yer stitchery on my arm, Jane my girl.”

  “You should be thankful I didn’t embroider a violet on it,” I teased.

  She giggled, and I felt immediately better. She would be fine after all. Perhaps we would finally both get a decent night’s rest for a change, I thought as I tugged my woolen nightdress over my head.

  The door banged open, startling us both. I snatched up a shawl. I imagined it was probably Father Joseph returning to give us another sermon about the savages. But it was not.

  Jehu Scudder stood in the doorway, holding a tureen.

  “I brought something for Mary,” he said shortly, stepping inside. He was so tall and broad that he had to crouch to get into the small cabin.

  Mary was in her bunk, covers up to her chin, but I was in plain sight, wearing only a woolen nightdress and a shawl. Most shockingly, my stocking-covered ankles were clearly visible! Quickly I tucked my feet beneath the hem of the nightdress, lest Jehu see them.

  The words rose in my throat to tell him to leave, that it wasn’t at all proper for him to be in our cabin when we weren’t properly dressed, but before I could say anything he pulled up a chair as if he meant to stay.

  “Here,” he said, passing me the tureen.

  I sniffed at the broth to make certain it wasn’t bilge water, but it smelled deliciously of chicken.

  “It’s a miracle the cook made something decent,” I said.

  “Cook didn’t make it. I did.”

  “You did?” I was shocked.

  He tilted his head in acknowledgment. In the shadowy light of the lantern his scar seemed less visible, and I suddenly realized that he had bright, blue eyes. Strange, that I had never noticed his eyes before.

  “And there’s no horse meat in there, I promise,” he added, smiling. He looked less fearsome when he smiled.

  I spooned the broth into Mary’s mouth while she observed us through slit eyes. The cabin was as silent as our parlor when I was a young girl and practicing listening well. Miss Hepplewhite always said that it was a lady’s obligation to encourage good conversation when in polite company, but I was having a difficult time considering Jehu polite company, for all that he had brought the broth. Moreover, I could not help feeling conscious of my ankles. Even William had never seen my stocking-covered ankles!

  At last I spoke. “Where did you learn to cook?”

  He shrugged. “On ships, I suppose. Been at sea since I was Samuel’s age. If you want something good to eat, you best make it yourself. First lesson I learned.”

  “Oh.”

  He looked at me. “And you? Are you a good cook?”

  I hesitated, and then shook my head. “We always had Mrs. Parker.”

  He nodded. Was that a flicker of disappointment in his eyes?

  “And of course Mary is a very fine cook,” I said quickly. “She is planning to open a boardinghouse and make her fortune when we reach the frontier. Aren’t you, Mary?”

  Mary made a small sound.

  “So, Miss Peck, how will you spend your days on the frontier if you won’t be cooking?” he asked.

  I bit my lip, momentarily perplexed. “I suppose I’ll embroider.”

  “Embroider, eh?” He looked at Mary dubiously.

  “Yes, embroider,” I said firmly.

  “There’s a big demand for needlepoint cushions on the frontier, then, is there?” Now there was a flicker of something else in his eyes. Amusement?

  From her bunk Mary chuckled quietly. She was most certainly feeling better.

  Jehu took a deep breath and stood up. “Well, Miss Peck, if you want my advice, you might want to ask Mary here for some tips on cooking and the like.”

  I shrugged as if unconcerned. “I’m sure William has already employed a maid and a cook for us.”

  Jehu squinted at the two of us. “For your sake, I hope so.”

  Although Mary was better, she was still weak. Not long after Jehu left, she was snoring lightly, so I took the opportunity to undo my braid and give my hair a good brushing. I was working on a particularly frustrating snarl when Jehu banged on the door and barged into our cabin for the second time that evening.

  Jehu stared at my hair tumbling loose around my shoulders, a strange expression on his face. It was most improper for a man to see a young lady with her hair unbound, almost as bad as seeing her bare ankles.

  “Do you never knock?” I demanded.

  “You should try rum.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “New England rum. It’s good for the tangles.”

  I felt myself go red. “Was there something you required?” I asked stiffly.

  Jehu remembered himself. “We’re sailing straight into a storm. Batten down everything and stay below decks.” And then he disappeared as quickly as he had come.

  In short order the ship began rocking wildly, and we were soon joined by Father Joseph and Sturgis. It seemed that their cabin was taking in water.

  The wind rose to a keening howl, and the Lady Luck began careening with frightful violence, side to side and up and down. The screeching wind drowned out the shouts of the sailors above deck. The lantern swung wildly as the ship tilted to and fro, casting fearful shadows in the small cabin.

  Mary was pale as a wraith, and Father Joseph’s eyebrows twitched madly as he clutched the table with real terror. Only Sturgis was unaffected by the rough seas, no doubt because of all the whiskey in his belly.

  “This is a witch of a storm all right,” Sturgis slurred, slumped in a corner, nursing his bottle.

  “Jane my girl,” Mary croaked weakly. “Do ya think we’ll make it to this blessed Shoalwater Bay?”

  A true lady is ever cheerful.

  “Yes, of course,” I said brightly, although fear was racing up and down my spine.

  Then, without warning, something smashed into the ship with such force that I went tumbling from my chair onto the floor. It felt like a whale or some huge sea monster had struck us. I struggled to right my chair against the rocking of the ship.

  Even Sturgis paled. “That didn’t sound good.”

  “Sweet Dieu, have mercy on your children,” Father Joseph whispered, patting his forehead nervously.

  The door to the cabin flew open, and Jehu’s slick face appeared. He was soaking wet.

  “Come on, man!” he shouted to Sturgis. “Samuel’s been hurt!” And then he was gone.

  Samuel? I thought in horror.

  “Jane my girl,” Mary said hoarsely. She was thinking the same thing I was. Sturgis was too drunk to be of help to anyone, let alone sweet Samuel.

  Sturgis lurched drunkenly to his feet. I pushed him back down.

  “What are you about, girl?” he demanded belligerently.

  “Stay with Mary,” I said firmly, and was out the door before he could argue.

  Shall I ever forget the sight that met my eyes? The screaming men, the pelting rain, the way the angry black waves seemed to reach from the very depths of the sea like giant hands trying to drag the ship down. A flash of lightning struck the ocean, illuminating the deck for one long, terrible moment, and I saw at once the cause of the horrible sound. The mainmast had been struck by lightning, and the topsail yard had crashed down to the deck in a tangle of rigging, sailcloth, and splintered wood. The heaviest chunk had landed horribly on Samuel. Deckhands were swarming about, brandishing knives, trying to free the boy.

  The ship tipped, and I went tumbling to the deck. I pushed myself to my feet and rushed over fallen debris to Samuel, grabbing his hand.

  “Oh blast,” I whispered, taking in the sight, my heart lurching sickly.

  A piece of wood was stretched across the boy’s belly, pinning him down, and blood gushed down his head. So much blood! He looked up at me with blank eyes.
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  “Mama?” he said. There was a dazed expression on his face.

  Someone was shaking my shoulders.

  “Where’s the blasted sawbones?” Jehu shouted, his face slick with rain.

  “He’s drunk!”

  “Don’t you have any sense? It’s dangerous up here! Get below now!” Jehu shouted in a frustrated voice, the scar on his cheek twitching.

  “I can’t just leave him!”

  “It’s an order!”

  Miss Hepplewhite said a young lady was obedient in all things, but all I could hear was Papa saying, “A doctor never abandons a patient in need, Janey.”

  “I’m staying!” I yelled.

  Jehu’s lips thinned into a harsh line, and he nodded shortly. He turned and shouted to two men to come take hold of the yard.

  Samuel clutched my hand.

  “Mama?” he asked anxiously. I sank to my knees and put his head in my lap, brushing the hair from his face.

  “Yes, Samuel, it’s Mama,” I said, trying to sound cheery. The blood from his head was a spreading bloom on my skirt. “Everything’s going to be just fine.”

  My presence calmed him, and he settled in my arms.

  “Heave now!” Jehu shouted, his face to the wind.

  And as the yard lifted, the boy jerked awake for a moment, his eyes bright with pain. Then he sighed and closed his eyes, resting his head on my lap as gently as if he were falling asleep, his eyelashes dark, wet spikes on his soft, young cheeks.

  “Samuel!” I cried, but he didn’t stir.

  Jehu looked at me with dark, unfathomable eyes.

  “I’m sorry, Jane.”

  I struggled back to the cabin, hair plastered to my face, soaking wet and shaking.

  The first thing I saw was Father Joseph’s black-robed back. He was kneeling next to Mary’s bunk, praying.

  “What are you doing?” I whispered.

  Sturgis roused himself. “The girl fell from the bunk when we tipped and struck her head. I couldn’t do anything for her.”

  “What?” The word tumbled from my mouth, spoken by some other girl, not me, not Jane Peck.

  “She is dead, mademoiselle,” Father Joseph said, shaking his head sadly at me.

  “No,” I whispered, wiping my hand across my face as if to wipe away the sight. “She can’t be. I was only gone for a moment.”

  “I’m sorry, mademoiselle,” Father Joseph said, an eerie echo of Jehu’s words.

  I looked over at the bunk, at Mary’s white face, at the blood matting her thick, black hair, at her dark eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling, and all I could do was stand there. The wind and the rain sprayed through the open door, and the lantern shook crazily. It seemed easier just to be, to let the storm beat upon me, scream at my back, howl in my ear.

  “We must pray for her sins,” Father Joseph urged.

  The priest leaned forward to touch Mary’s forehead, and the sight of him touching her white skin shook something inside me, something so deep that it stabbed my very soul, and I screamed.

  “No!”

  I screamed and screamed, my voice rising with the wind, flying out the door, disappearing into the dark night as if the word alone could bring her back, bring back her merry eyes, her laughing mouth, her warm heart. Bring back Mary Hearn. A sweet girl. A good cook. A lively companion. The finest brusher of horrible, ratty, tangled red hair in all of Philadelphia.

  My only true friend in the whole world.

  Tears ran down my cheeks as Jehu Scudder came running into the cabin, knife drawn.

  “What is it?” Jehu demanded.

  “The girl’s dead,” Sturgis shouted over the wind. “Ain’t my fault.”

  A cold fury rushed through me. I couldn’t stand the sight of him.

  “I left her with you!” I howled. “Why didn’t you keep her from falling? Why couldn’t you do something useful for a change instead of drink?”

  I flung myself at Sturgis, hair flying. I wanted to kill that careless, heartless man, I wanted to rip his eyes out with my own two hands, but I was weeping so hard that I could barely see, and Sturgis was stumbling back in surprise and Father Joseph was shouting at me, and the next thing I knew someone grabbed me around the waist and hauled me back.

  “Jane!” Jehu said grimly, his arm tight around my middle. “There’s nothing you can do.”

  The fury went out of me in a rush, leaving me limp with grief.

  “If I had just stayed,” I cried brokenly, weeping into his chest. “If I had just stayed!”

  Jehu said nothing, just rubbed his hand down my back soothingly, his fingers tangling in my hair like Mary’s brush.

  We stood there in the doorway and I wept and wept while the wind and the rain pounded in through the dark, terrible night.

  I sewed the burial shrouds out of sheets meant for my marriage bed. My stitches were straight and perfect. Miss Hepplewhite would have been proud.

  We buried young Samuel and Mary at sea, beneath the same blue wave.

  CHAPTER SIX

  or,

  The Importance of Punctuality

  White loamy breakers and the raucous cry of seagulls signaled land.

  The men’s laughter sang out across the water as the Lady Luck limped into a bright, sparkling bay, the water glassy as a mirror. I stood on the deck and let the warm April breeze tangle my hair.

  I had spent the rest of the voyage numb, too numb even to be seasick. Mary’s empty bunk haunted me. I kept thinking I would wake and hear her merry voice, but the only sound I heard was the endless slap of waves against the ship.

  And now, at last, we were in Shoalwater Bay.

  My breath caught at the astonishing sight. I, who had grown up with cobblestone streets and brick buildings, was now surrounded on every side by wild green wilderness. Never in my entire life had I seen anything so raw and vast. Sunlight skipped across the shimmering water, and sleek creatures slipped between the waves like playful puppies. I leaned over to get a better look at the strange animals.

  “They’re sea otters,” Jehu said in a soft voice, coming to stand next to me.

  I nodded.

  Jehu stared into the distance. “Seems Samuel was right after all.” He whispered, “One hundred and eighty days exactly.”

  His roughened hands gripped the rail, and the sight of those white knuckles reminded me of that terrible night at sea. For a moment Mary’s white face rose before me, but I pushed her away, pushed her down deep to a place where I could forget.

  Jehu shook his head as if to push away his own thoughts and looked at me.

  “You sure have a lot of green dresses,” he said.

  “William says I look beautiful in green,” I said defensively.

  “He does, does he?” Jehu said, a sarcastic edge to his voice. He sounded just like Papa.

  I stared stubbornly out at the waves. I couldn’t wait to be off this ship and away from this man. I couldn’t wait to see William. William with his beautiful eyes and lovely manners.

  Jehu studied me with hooded eyes. “I think blue would suit you better.”

  Before I could retort that a grubby sailor was per haps the last person on earth who should be giving hints on fashion, the men started shouting. I craned my neck to see what the excitement was about.

  Paddling right toward the Lady Luck was a long canoe—full of savages!

  The canoe was sleek as a bird, cutting through the water as cleanly as a knife through pie. A stout white man sporting a shaggy white mustache and beard sat in the middle of the canoe and waved madly.

  “Ho there!” the man called as the canoe pulled alongside the Lady Luck, bobbing in the waves. “Capital day, is it not?”

  I couldn’t take my eyes off the savages. Their complexions were coppery and they had broad noses. But strangest of all, the front of their foreheads appeared, well, flattened. They seemed to regard me with such ferocious expressions that I backed away from the rail.

  “Your name, sir,” Father Joseph called down im
periously.

  The white man’s face filled with mirth and he shouted back, “James G. Swan, at your service, Father!”

  “And I am Father Joseph Lionnet, lately of Montreal.”

  The jolly Mr. Swan turned his attention on me and beamed.

  “And you, young lady, must be Miss Peck,” he declared.

  I was astonished. How did this strange man know my name?

  “I am, sir. How did you know?”

  “Young William told me all about you and your lovely red hair. His description did not do you justice, I’m afraid,” Mr. Swan said with a jolly smile.

  William! I thought with a rush of excitement. He had spoken of me!

  “Welcome, Jane Peck,” Mr. Swan boomed, “to Shoalwater Bay.”

  The canoe accompanied us to the shore, where the Lady Luck dropped anchor and a small rowboat was lowered.

  I peered nervously over the side of the ship. The climb from the deck to the rowboat waiting below was very high. Father Joseph, Captain Johnson, Jehu, and the other men going ashore were already in the rowboat, waiting for me.

  “C’mon, lassie,” Captain Johnson barked. “We’re not waiting all day.”

  I straightened my bonnet and set one foot tentatively onto the rope ladder, holding on to the rungs. Think of William, I told myself bravely.

  The ladder started to swing wildly before I even got my other foot down.

  My bonnet promptly slipped forward in front of my eyes.

  “Blast,” I whispered as I clung to the ladder for dear life, trying to decide how to muddle my way out.

  I pushed the bonnet back.

  “You all right up there?” Jehu called.

  “I am very well, thank you,” I replied tersely. Or I would be as soon as the rope ladder stopped swinging and my belly calmed.

  I took a deep breath and steadied myself, starting slowly down the next rung, and then the next, concentrating only on the rungs in front of me. It was almost easy if I pretended I was descending a carriage the way Miss Hepplewhite had demonstrated. Except, of course, I was doing it backward and suspended over water! I was almost all the way down when I felt a sudden rush of air on my legs and one of the men in the rowboat below whistled wolfishly.