by Alison Hart
A woman lying on a blanket on the floor beside the stove moaned. “Water, please, water,” she called in a heavy accent. Emma spied a bucket in the aisle. She slid off the pew and made her way to it.
She scooped a dipperful of water and knelt by the woman, who raised her head to drink. Her face was crusted with soot and burns. Emma was startled to see it was the immigrant woman who had been milking the cow just outside Twist’s stall.
“My baby,” the woman whispered after she’d taken several sips. She grasped Emma’s wrist, spilling the rest of the water. “Where is she?”
“I-I don’t know, ma’am,” Emma said. “I’ll fetch the doctor or someone who might know.”
She found a man with a stethoscope dangling around his neck. “Sir, the woman by the stove—” But he waved her away as he hurried toward a person who had just been carried in on a litter. “I’ll get to her when I can, miss.”
Emma thanked him and walked slowly back toward the mother. She was sure Cousin Minna had never had to pass along such distressing news. Fortunately, the poor woman had fallen asleep.
Emma glanced around, wondering what else she could to do to help.
“Miss Emma? Is that you?” Patrick raised his head. His face was pale and streaked with mud.
“It is,” she replied, relief washing over her as she went to him. “Are you feeling better?”
Touching the bandage, he grimaced. “Like an ox sat on me head. What happened?”
“The Sally May exploded. Do you remember?”
“I heard the first boiler blow, and the boat caught fire like a pile of tinder. Luckily, it started on the larboard side. It gave me enough time to untie Twist and open his stall door before the second one blew.” He shook his head. “I don’t know what happened after that.”
“The second blast must have blown you and Twist into the river,” Emma said.
He propped himself up on one elbow. “But how did I get to shore? I can’t swim.”
“I saw you float by.”
“Ye saved me?”
“Only after Twist saved me. If you hadn’t untied him, the river would have taken us all.”
His gaze shifted to the wounded people lying around the room. “And me sister?” he asked, a catch in his voice.
“She’s fine. My father came aboard at Lexington. He and Doctor Burton saved Mama, Kathleen and the baby.”
Patrick arched his brows. “Baby?”
“I’ve a new sister.”
“Emma!” Her mother’s cry suddenly echoed through the entire church. She was holding onto Papa as they came up the aisle. Emma ran to meet them. She buried her face in Mama’s cloak, her tears darkening the velvet.
“I prayed you would be safe,” Mama murmured.
“Where are Kathleen and the baby?” Emma asked.
“They are outside in the carriage,” Papa said. “Mama insisted that I bring her in to see you. She shouldn’t be up walking around.” He steered Mama to an empty pew, where she sank onto the wooden seat.
Taking off her shawl, Emma draped it over her mother’s lap.
“I’m so happy to see you, my dearest,” Mama said. “I couldn’t bear it, thinking you might be….”
“I know, Mama.” Emma swiped away a tear. “But we are all together now—you, me, and Papa.”
“And Grace,” said Papa.
“Grace?”
“Yes, my darling daughter. That is your new sister’s name.”
Grace was a nice name. Perhaps it might not be all bad to have a sister, Emma thought.
She looked back at Patrick. He was sitting up, the blanket around his shoulders. His hair poked up above the bandage, and without his cap, he seemed smaller. “Papa, Patrick would like very much to see his sister.”
Patrick stood, one hand clutching the blanket around his shoulders. Stepping forward on shaky legs, he gave a polite nod to Emma’s mother. Then he held out his other hand to Papa. “I am Patrick O’Brien, sir. I am pleased to meet the man who saved me sister.”
“And I’m pleased to meet the boy who helped save my daughter,” Papa said, adding, “Thank you.” But Emma noticed that he didn’t take Patrick’s hand.
“I ain’t no hero.” Patrick tipped up his chin. “But I am a right steady worker. I watched over yer daughter’s wee horse. And I helped the deckhands on the Sally May.”
“Carrying four logs at a time,” Emma chimed in. “And always making sure that Twist was properly fed and watered.”
“So you’re a hard worker with gumption.” Smiling, Papa took Patrick’s hand and shook it. “No doubt the West can use men like you.”
“No doubt,” repeated Mama. “You’d be a fine addition to any venture.”
“I thank ye, ma’am,” Patrick said, flushing at the compliments.
“Papa, what news is there of Captain Digby and Mister LaBarge?” Emma asked.
“By some miracle, they both survived. They are working tirelessly, aiding passengers.”
“Thank goodness they are all right,” Emma said. “But what of the Sally May?”
Papa shook his head. “She is gone.”
Emma frowned. “The captain swore the Sally May was a floating fortress.”
“The captain and pilot are able river men, Emma.” He gently touched her shoulder. “But the Missouri River has claimed many steamboats.”
“I would be furious at that river,” she said, wanting to stamp her stockinged foot. “Except it also brought you to us, Papa.” Emma sat on the pew next to her mother. “Did our other friends make it off the Sally May? Mister Jenkins and Julia and Missus Hanover …?” Emma’s voice grew thick when she thought of the crew and passengers that she’d gotten to know.
Mama tenderly touched Emma’s hair. “We don’t have news of everyone, sweetheart,” she explained. “But the townspeople have been glorious in their rescue efforts.”
“Now, no more questions,” Papa said firmly. “Phineas Burton has graciously invited you, Mama, and the baby back to his house to rest. Twist has already been taken to his stable. Mister Burton’s carriage awaits you outside. I need to join the rescuers. There is much to be done.”
“I would like to help, too, sir,” Patrick said, casting off the blanket. When Emma gave him a worried look, he quickly added, “Me head is fine.”
“Good.” Papa nodded. “Every strong and able person is needed.”
“I want to help, too.” Emma stood up to show she was as capable as Patrick.
“No, dearest,” Mama said. “You are injured.”
“Then let me stay and aid others in the church,” Emma continued. “Or I will—” She stopped. She’d been about to say hold my breath, but she’d realized how foolish it would sound.
“I think that would be a wonderful way to give thanks for being alive,” Mama said as Papa helped her to her feet. “Kathleen wishes to lend a hand, too. She can stay here with you. Grace and I can manage without you both for a little while.”
“Come, Emma.” Papa held his other elbow out to her. “It’s time to meet your sister. Then you can come back to help.”
She searched her father’s face. “You aren’t angry about the new baby?”
“Angry?” He raised his brows.
“Yes. Our trip to California will have to be delayed.”
“Wagon trains will be leaving all of April,” Papa said. “In a few weeks Mama and the baby should be ready to travel. But what about you, my brave daughter? Are you growing fainthearted at the thought of rattlesnakes, coyotes, and Indians?”
“Never,” Emma said firmly.
“Good. Because I am counting on you and Twist to help guide us across the prairie.”
“Patrick and his sister are going to California, too.” Emma cast a sidelong glance at Patrick.
“Kathleen and I have already spoken,” Mama said. “She says that traveling with us would suit everyone well. However, she said her brother must agree.”
Patrick straightened quickly. “I do, ma’am! I’ve got gold
fever the same as everyone else.” Forgetting his injury, he retrieved his jacket and then rushed back.
Emma couldn’t believe her ears. Everything had fallen into place, and she hadn’t had to stomp her feet or hold her breath once.
“Good.” Papa nodded. “Except I must warn you, I’m not headed to California to pan gold.”
“You’re not?” Emma exclaimed.
Papa laughed at her astonished expression. “No, child. The new state needs sharp businessmen as well as tough miners.”
“Aye, sir!” Patrick chimed in. “I like the sound of that as well.”
“We’ll still have adventures?” Emma asked her father. “You, me, Mama and the baby?”
“A barrel full of adventures.” Papa took Emma’s hand and smiled down at her. “I promise.” And she could tell by the softness in his eyes that he had more than enough love for both her and Grace.
“Though no more adventures quite as sad as this one, I hope,” Mama said solemnly as Papa helped her down the aisle past the survivors.
When they reached the church doors, a man carrying a baby came in. Emma recognized the blue-fringed blanket. “Please, sir,” she said. “This baby belongs to the woman by the stove. She has been asking for her.”
Patrick held open the door for them, but Emma paused to watch the man hurry toward the stove in the front of the pews. She heard the mother’s cry at the sight of her baby, and her own heart felt full. The river journey had been filled with peril—yet there was some joy, too.
“I won’t ever forget this trip on the Sally May,” she said, her gaze meeting Patrick’s.
“Aye, miss. Me neither.”
“Come, Emma. You have your own baby to greet,” Papa called from outside.
Emma quickened her pace and followed Mama and Papa to the carriage. Kathleen was walking back and forth beside the horses, cooing to the bundle in her arms. When she saw Patrick, she gave a cry of joy. He grinned, but ducked his head as if too embarrassed to throw his arms around his sister.
“Please, Kathleen, may I hold her?” Emma asked.
“Yes, miss.” Kathleen placed the baby in Emma’s arms.
Emma took the bundle gently. Then she pulled back the blanket covering the baby’s face. Grace was puckered and pink, and when she opened her tiny eyes, Emma gazed with wonder at her new sister.
For once, she was speechless.
ALISON HART loves to write historical fiction because of the way history has shaped our lives today. She is the author of many books for young readers, including the three exciting titles of the Racing to Freedom Trilogy—GABRIEL’S HORSES, GABRIEL’S TRIUMPH, and GABRIEL’S JOURNEY—all Junior Library Guild Selections, and ANNA’S BLIZZARD, another exciting tale of a plucky young girl and her pony.
Hart lives in Virginia with her husband, two kids, three dogs, one cat, and two horses. She teaches English at Blue Ridge Community College in the Shenandoah Valley. Find out more about Alison at www.alisonhartbooks.com.
MORE ABOUT LIFE ON THE RIVER IN THE 1880S
EMMA’S RIVER: THE MIGHTY MISSOURI
TRADERS, TRAPPERS, AND GOLD SEEKERS used the Missouri River as a highway west. They traveled on rafts, on keelboats, and, beginning in 1819, on steamboats. Later, families like Emma’s and immigrants like Patrick also used the Missouri River to travel westward. Soon the shores were dotted with towns, including St. Joseph and Lexington. They became jumping-off spots for people traveling to the California and Oregon territories.
keelboat
Between 1845 and 1860, steamboats also carried sugar, coffee, molasses, cotton, and hardware to western settlers. They brought back iron, lead, furs, hides, and pork products to the East. By 1890, steamboats had mostly disappeared from the Missouri River. They’d been replaced by trains, which were faster and cheaper.
river raft
THE REAL STEAMBOAT DISASTER AT LEXINGTON, MISSOURI
STEAMBOAT TRAVEL could be dangerous on the “Big Muddy.” The Missouri River was full of logs, sandbars, reefs, rapids, and shallows. Fires, explosions, and sinkings were common. Between 1819 and 1897, more than 289 boats sank in its waters. Fog, high winds, ice, storms, and dark nights also made river travel dangerous.
wreck of the steamboat Tennessee on the Missouri River
In 1852, the real steamboat Saluda exploded. Like the Sally May in the story, it was leaving the town of Lexington, Missouri. Two-thirds of the steamboat blew apart. The captain and most of the crew were lost. More than seventy-five passengers were killed. Cargo and belongings were destroyed. James May, a traveler on the Saluda, wrote “all the little we had was lost.” News of the explosion was telegraphed all over the United States. It was “considered one of the worst … steamboat disasters on the Missouri River.”
THE BOILER DECK
DESPITE THE DANGER, steamboats were described as elegant “moving hotels.” Cabin passengers like Emma traveled on the comfortable boiler deck. They were waited on by stewards, maids, and cabin boys. They ate three delicious meals a day and slept in their own rooms, called staterooms. They played cards and danced to music in the grand salon, the fancy main cabin.
Belle Memphis-main cabin
Gentlemen were forbidden in the parlor, the ladies’ part of the main cabin. Ladies could not enter the gentlemen’s end, except for meals. The barbershop, baggage room, nursery, pantry, kitchen, clerk’s office, and washrooms were also located on the boiler deck.
THE MAIN DECK
BELOW THE FANCY BOILER DECK was the crowded main deck. This was where cargo, animals, crew, and immigrants like Patrick traveled together. Main deck passengers, called deckers, brought their own food and shared one stove. They dipped water to drink from the muddy river. Since there was no refrigeration, they brought bread and sausage, which would not spoil quickly. If a steamboat got stranded on a sandbar or iced in, the deckers often starved.
fur trader with pelt
One traveler described the main deck as “bleak and bare, no table, no utensils, a few dim lanterns, a long sheet iron stove, bunks on the side—reminds one of a horse stable.” Deck passengers were not allowed on the boiler deck. Any decker who dared to go upstairs was immediately left on shore.
riverboats at Memphis
THE LIFE OF A RIVERMAN
STEAMBOATS needed many workers. Rousters, or roustabouts, moved barrels, trunks, bales, and wood to and from the steamboats. They carried their loads across narrow planks while the first mate yelled orders and hit them with a stick or cane if they didn’t obey quickly enough. The work of the rousters was hazardous. They often slipped in the mud or tumbled off the planks into the river. The deckhands were the seamen of the steamboat. They ran out the boat lines and sounded for clear channels in the river.
riverboat pilot in the wheelhouse
Steamboats needed wood for fuel. “Wooding up” happened twice a day when the boats stopped at woodyards along the river. Rousters and deckhands carried four or five heavy logs onto the boat at a time. Workers called firemen then stoked the wood into the furnaces. The fire in the furnaces heated the water in the boat’s boilers. The boiling water turned into the steam that ran the engines, which were manned by engineers. The engines then turned the paddlewheels that propelled the boat along the river.
passengers waiting to board the Falls City steamboat
Most rousters, deckhands, and firemen were rough-looking young men. Some were immigrants (mostly Irish, German, and Dutch). Others were slaves, free Negroes, or farm boys who wanted adventure on the river. Some workers slept in stacks of bunks in the cargo area. Others slept among the freight, animals, and immigrants. In cold weather, they covered themselves with straw, a sack, or an old coat to keep warm. They ate the food that was left over from the cabin passengers’ meals.
The captain and the pilot were in charge of the steamboat. Captains, hoping to make more money, drove the overloaded boats fast and hard each trip. The pilot had the difficult job of navigating the windy, muddy river. He was called “the king of riv
ermen.” He constantly communicated with the engineer using bells. As soon as he heard the signal, the engineer had to react quickly. His job demanded concentration and great skill. If there was trouble, the bells might signal “stop, back, slow, and full steam ahead” all at one time.
MORE ABOUT LIFE IN THE MID-1800S …
ELECTRIC LIGHTS were not generally used until 1878. Emma and Mama had gas lanterns in their stateroom. Gas and lard or whale oil were used in lamps. The fancy chandeliers in the main cabin also used gas. Today, if you went camping, you might carry along a gas lantern.
Girls like Emma did not wear pants (called trousers or pantaloons). They wore skirts and dresses with long sleeves. A pinafore helped keep the dresses clean. Sometimes they wore frilly bloomers or pantalettes under their skirts. In December of 1852, a woman named Emma Snodgrass was arrested for wearing pants in Boston!
girl’s traveling costume
In 1852, Missouri was a state. Kansas and Nebraska were still part of the area called the Nebraska Territory, which was considered Indian country.
Gold was discovered in California in 1848. This discovery spurred western migration. By 1852, many adventurous people like Emma’s father traveled to California and Oregon. Some had gold fever, but others wanted to start businesses in the growing West.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
The quotes in the section called “The Real Steamboat Disaster at Lexington, Missouri” are from EXPLOSION OF THE STEAMBOAT SALUDA: A STORY OF DISASTER AND COMPASSION INVOLVING MORMON EMIGRANTS AND THE TOWN OF LEXINGTON, MISSOURI, IN APRIL 1852. The quote from the section “The Main Deck” is from STEAMBOAT ON THE WESTERN RIVER.
Special thanks to “Captain” Alan Bates for patiently answering my steamboat questions and for giving me a tour of the Belle of Louisville, the oldest operating steamboat in the United States and a National Historic Landmark. For more information go to http://belleoflouisville.org.
