The Wedding Journey

by Cheryl St. John

  They parted on that note. Not long after their conversation, she returned to assist Flynn as he changed Goldie’s dressings. The woman was staying awake for longer periods with less medicine. “Heard tell a poor girl died,” Goldie said.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Flynn replied.

  “Do you think I can go back to my cabin soon?” she asked. “Truth be told, I get more time with my husband here, since we’re separated in men’s and women’s cabins otherwise, but I don’t want to be takin’ up space someone else could use.”

  “It’s up to you, wherever you’re most comfortable,” Flynn told her. “As long as you keep the wound clean and covered with the dressing, you’ll do fine. If I send along a bottle of medicine for pain, I think we could let you go tomorrow.”

  “I have little to pay you,” Goldie told him with an embarrassed shrug.

  “The shipowner pays me by the trip,” he told her. “You don’t owe me anything.”

  “I do think I owe you, but I thank you nonetheless.”

  “Miss Murphy will show you how to get around using crutches, but I want you to stay off your feet as much as possible.”

  “Anything you say, doctor.”

  That afternoon, Maeve tended to a gaggle of female patients with questionable complaints. Most were disappointed they didn’t get to see the doctor, and two were downright rude, but by now she was accustomed to their behavior and prepared to deal with them. With all this attention, it was a wonder the doctor didn’t have an inflated sense of his own importance, but he seemed to take it all in stride, often exchanging a private look with her that said he was on to these women’s tactics.

  When she got to the deck later, dark clouds hung low in the sky, making it seem later than it was.

  A crewman cried out from the rigging above. “Fire to the east! All hands on deck! All hands on deck!”

  Startled, she oriented herself to figure out which way was east. Passengers had already run to the side of the ship.

  An odd light burned a quarter of a mile away. One of the ships that had been keeping pace with them was on fire. Alarm spread through the crowd watching the scene on the other ship.

  Maeve’s heart kicked blood more quickly through her veins. No doubt there were hundreds aboard that vessel, people just like these around her—people just like her.

  Sailors climbed the rigging above for better vantage points and called updates to their fellow mates.

  Smoke billowed into the night sky, eerily lit by the flames fueling it.

  “’Tis a sail ablaze now!” a man called down.

  “They’re handing buckets up to the riggers,” another said.

  The water probably added to the amount of smoke. Maeve prayed for the safety of the passengers and crew.

  Captain Conley called orders that had something to do with the sails, and the Annie McGee bobbed closer to the other ship. His next command was to furl the sails and drop anchor.

  Too many passengers had moved in front of Maeve, so she worked her way through them to reach the rail. The others could see over her head.

  Objects in the water became visible, but from this distance she wasn’t sure what they were.

  “Lifeboats and swimmers!” came the call from above.

  Swimmers? In these shark-infested waters? Her heart dropped to her stomach.

  “Excuse me, please. Excuse me.” Flynn worked his way to the rail beside her.

  “Man the lifeboats!”

  Crew members urged the bystanders away from the side, so the rowboats could be manipulated with ropes and pullies.

  “Two men in each boat!” Captain Conley ordered. “Away!”

  Flynn hurried forward.

  “You’re needed here,” the captain said to him. They looked at each other for several seconds, and then Flynn backed away.

  Two sailors climbed into the boat and were lowered down over the side.

  “Go for my bag,” he said to Maeve.

  Obediently, she turned and ran to do his bidding.

  “We’ll need an area where anyone injured can lie down and I can treat them. Preferably not too far from a fire.”

  Maeve designated a place on the deck, added fuel to the fire and spread out blankets in preparation for patients.

  It seemed as if an eternity passed before the boats from the Annie McGee reached people floundering in the water.

  Turning to those standing nearby, she called, “More blankets! We’ll have to get them warm when they get onboard. Bring as many blankets as you have.”

  The passengers jumped into action, some moving no farther than their fireplaces for a blanket, others disappearing down the ladder to their cabins below. The pile of blankets grew.

  The first boat came near, and those paying attention above tossed down ropes, which the sailors hooked. The boat was hoisted upward, dripping water.

  Ingenious brackets fit the boat snugly against the side of the ship, so it was held steady.

  Maeve had counted eight heads besides those of the sailors as the boat had neared, so she grabbed blankets and passed them out.

  “I’ll check each person for injuries first,” Flynn called to everyone within earshot. “If I deem him well, take the person to your cook fire and get him warm.”

  Flynn’s assessment consisted mostly of asking each dripping-wet and shivering refugee if he or she had been hurt.

  One had a long gash on his arm. Flynn wrapped it tightly and sent him with Maeve.

  The next boat was full of dry passengers, who had obviously climbed into a boat and not jumped into the water.

  A barrel-chested fellow she’d seen a time or two led a dripping-wet, sobbing woman to Maeve. “Doc said she has a bump on her head.”

  Sure enough swelling over her left eye prompted Maeve to look into the woman’s eyes. “We’ll get you warm and keep a cold compress on that.”

  Bridget and Aideen showed up just then. “What can we do to help?” Bridget asked.

  “I see the two of you have met.”

  “We were just getting ready to start supper when all the excitement started,” Bridget replied.

  “Bridget, I could use a plaster for this woman’s head, if you please. I’ll tell you exactly where to find it in the dispensary and how to prepare it.”

  “All right.”

  Aideen and Bridget ran errands for both Dr. Gallagher and Maeve as the survivors were brought onto the ship. There were very few injuries. Mostly things like contusions and scrapes from the passengers panicking and jumping overboard.

  They learned the other ship was the Wellington, and it had left a port just west of them within hours of the Annie McGee’s departure. Once the initial emergency was over, Bridget and Aideen went back to their cook fires.

  “I don’t know what will happen,” Flynn said to her. “We can’t go forward with this many additional people.”

  Concern and disappointment rolled over Maeve like a wave. They couldn’t go back now! Perhaps they could find a port where the additional passengers could await a new ship. She worked hard to place herself in the others’ shoes and not think selfishly. What if the situation had been reversed? She would want someone to take her and her sisters in and see to their welfare.

  “We can’t share what we have and go forward?”

  “There are laws,” he told her. “Set in place to prevent overcrowding and disease. There isn’t enough food or water to accommodate this many more people for the duration of the trip. The risk of disease increases with each person who is added. The most likely solution would be to put them off somewhere, but it would take us out of our way.”

  She didn’t even know how to pray, but she silently asked God to assist these people and help her overcome her selfishness.

  As darkness fell, there were no longer flames licking at the other ship. It rested on the waves like a painting she’d once seen. Bobbing at sea lent the ship a different feel. How far would dropping anchor set them back? Where would they go from here?

  From whe
re she sat, watching over two resting patients, Maeve observed as yet another boat was stabilized and two men stepped out onto the deck. Captain Conley was there to meet them, and the men walked away together.

  “That must be the Wellington’s captain. I think I’ll go join them to see what’s happening on the other ship.”

  The additional passengers they’d taken on were distributed at the other cook fires around the decks.

  A short, round woman with a headscarf over her hair joined Maeve and offered food she’d prepared for the two patients. “All the others are eating meals with our people.”

  Maeve thanked her. The woman and man, who hadn’t met each other before ending up here, sat forward and accepted bowls of rice.

  “Everythin’ got so confusing,” the woman told them. “Fire was licking up the mast and people were screaming and running. I kept thinkin’ we’d only just left everything behind to start over, and now we’d be killed at sea.”

  “The sailors were telling us to remain calm,” the man said. “But it’s hard t’ stay calm when a ship is burning out from under ye in the middle of the ocean.”

  “I can only imagine how frightening that was,” Maeve told them.

  Flynn returned less than half an hour later. “Seems there’s not much damage. People panicked, as is their nature, and yet the fire was being brought under control. The sail will be mended overnight, and the captain plans to continue forward come morning.”

  Relief warmed her heart. “Thank You, Lord.”

  “There’s nothing more we can do,” he told her. “Everyone should get a good night’s rest. You did an excellent job this evening. I was wise in my decision to hire you. I’m going to go check on Goldie now. Her husband is with her, and I’m sure they’re hungry for news of what’s been happening.”

  His praise warmed her cheeks. She was exhausted, but she felt good about how she’d handled herself. She’d had many doubts about her abilities, but if things continued this way, her job would be tiring, but nothing she couldn’t handle.

  * * *

  It was late for supper, but that evening the Murphy sisters finally had a chance to help Aideen Nolan and her aunt with their cooking. After the near-panic earlier, it was good to develop a routine and grow familiar with each other. The women shared their histories and how they’d come to be here.

  Mrs. Kennedy had been married to a clergyman for only six years before his untimely death. She’d been a widow since the early thirties, and had become a milliner to support herself, but her parents had insisted she come and live with them, so all her earnings went into savings. When Aideen’s father, Mrs. Kennedy’s brother, had died, Aideen had come to live with them, as well. Aideen had never married and was an accomplished sempstress.

  “That explains your beautiful clothing.” Bridget fed Baby Grace warm milk with the rubber tubing. “I can’t help but notice the soft fabric and the lovely embellishments.”

  Maeve had admired their beautiful clothing, too. She had a difficult time imagining the luxury of a cook and a housekeeper, though they must have missed the companionship of others their own ages, living with Aideen’s aging grandparents. Unlike the other well-dressed passengers, these women didn’t turn up their noses at the sisters in their plain browns and grays.

  “What is our fare this evening?” Aideen asked.

  Maeve showed her the bag of meal. “Stirabout again.”

  Bridget groaned and shifted Grace to her shoulder.

  “We brought additional rice and sugar in our provisions,” Nora said. “Why don’t we make rice pudding as a treat?”

  “Don’t you need eggs?” Mrs. Kennedy asked.

  “We have eggs,” Nora told her.

  “However did you preserve them for the trip?”

  “Dipped them in paraffin and then packed them in our flour bin,” Nora replied.

  Bridget glanced at her older sister in surprise. “Nora, your impracticality on the matter of using our eggs just for a treat is astonishing.”

  “We deserve a celebration,” she said simply. “We thought we were witnessing a disaster, but it all turned out just fine.”

  “Dr. Gallagher predicted we’d have had to make for port somewhere out of our way if the Wellington had been badly damaged.” Maeve placed her palms together. “Thank You, Lord, that didn’t happen and the passengers were all safe.”

  “All I could think about were the sharks we hear about all the time,” Aideen said. “I was sick with dread. It’s a miracle that no one was killed in the water.”

  “I believe you’re right about that,” Nora agreed.

  The women combined their rations and made a pot of stirabout, which simmered over the fire, while Maeve prepared the pudding, covered the pan and set it to bake.

  Most families had already finished their meals, and here and there neighbors joined together with wooden flutes and fiddles to liven up the atmosphere.

  “‘I’ve traveled about a bit in me time,’” came a clear tenor voice. “‘Of troubles I’ve seen a few. I found it far better in every clime to paddle me own canoe.’”

  The ladies looked at each other and grinned.

  A man with a deeper voice picked up the next verse. “‘Me wants they are small. I care not at all. Me debts they are paid when due. I drive away strife from the ocean of life, and paddle me own canoe.’”

  It was just the thing needed to change the mood after the death of Bridget Collins that morning and the emergency this evening. Maeve had never anticipated this much drama aboard ship.

  “‘I rise with the lark from daylight to dark, I do what I have to do. I’m careless in wealth, I’ve only me health to paddle me own canoe.’”

  Someone got out their union pipes and joined the gaiety. The distinctive sound carried across the ocean, and Maeve was certain those remaining on the Wellington could hear the merriment.

  The song changed to one less frolicking, but every bit as familiar and more sentimental. This time many voices joined in with the ballad. Even Bridget sang along. “‘Tis the last rose of summer, left blooming alone. All her lovely companions are faded and gone.’”

  Aideen joined in. “‘No flower of her kindred, no rosebud is nigh, to reflect back her blushes, to give sigh for sigh.’”

  The song continued, with other passengers picking up the familiar words and joining in.

  The next song struck up and Maeve had to laugh. It was an exaggerated tale of a ship’s demise, the lyrics listing millions of barrels and bricks among a multitude of supplies on the ill-fated ship. When it came to the last verse she joined in. “‘We had sailed seven years when the measles broke out. Our ship lost its way in the fog. Then the whale of the crew was reduced down to two. Just myself and the captain’s old dog.’”

  The passengers wound up for the finale, singing loudly, and even Mrs. Kennedy joined in.

  “‘Then the ship struck a rock, O Lord what a shock, the boat was turned right over. Whirled nine times around, then the old dog was drowned. And the last of the Irish Rover. Whirled nine times around, then the old dog was drowned. I’m the last of the Irish Rover.’”

  Laughter changed the somber mood that had prevailed since the poor girl’s burial that morning. Around them merry conversations buzzed.

  “We’re a hardy people.” Mrs. Kennedy wiped a tear from her eye. “To survive what we’ve been through and still have a zest for life.”

  They prayed together and shared their meal. A feeling of well-being and belonging settled over Maeve. There were many uncertainties ahead, yes, but the love of God and the assurance of His provision was a certainty. Already He’d given them new friends.

  Chapter Nine

  At daybreak the Wellington sent its own lifeboats, and crewmen on the Annie McGee filled theirs, and the process of returning all the passengers to their own vessel got underway.

  The Wellington’s captain sent men back with bags of meal and a barrel of water to replenish provisions and as a sign of goodwill.

 
; The process took a couple of hours, but once all the people had been returned, both ships unreefed their sails and let the wind catch them. Maeve had awakened early to witness the process and to enjoy seeing the ship set sail once again.

  She made oatmeal for herself and her sisters and brewed a kettle of strong tea. Breakfast was ready when Bridget and Nora came above deck.

  “Did you sleep?” Bridget asked.

  “Aye. I don’t believe I moved a muscle all the night through. I woke in the same position as I laid down.”

  Grace emitted a strong cry, and Maeve took her from Nora while Bridget went for milk.

  “You’re a hungry baby, you are. Do you want me to take her with me this morning?”

  “If I need you to take her, I will bring her, but we should be fine.”

  Maeve brushed the baby’s forehead with a kiss and handed her over. “I’m off to work, then.”

  She arrived at the dispensary just as Flynn was preparing to see Goldie to her cabin.

  “Thank you for your kind attention, Miss Murphy,” the woman told her.

  “You’re so welcome. Send for me if you need anything.”

  While the doctor was gone, Maeve put the dispensary in order, sterilized and organized the instruments. She changed all the linens on the cots and washed down every surface. Humming to herself, she sang and prayed softly as she worked. Her employment afforded her more quiet time than ordinarily available on this crowded ship, and she was grateful. By the time she got to her cabin at night, she was exhausted, and the lights were extinguished.

  Cleaning the dispensary had become her quiet time, and she honored it as best she could. She was sure God understood the lack of privacy and honored her faithfulness.

  Gavin McCorkle showed up with bleeding blisters on the palms of both hands. Though only eighteen years of age and lanky, he towered over her.

  “Whatever have you done to put your hands in this condition?” she asked.

  “One o’ the mates by the name of Simon asked Dr. Gallagher if I’d be wantin’ to apprentice. Seems he needed another lad. I’m not just a swabbie, neither. I’m a rigger.”