by Renee Duke
“Why are you getting all that stuff?” Dane asked Mrs. Bathurst.
“Steerage passengers are expected supply their own travel equipment. The only thing I was able to save on was mattresses, as the younger children can share.”
“We’re travelling in steerage?” Paige tried not to sound dismayed. When she had thought about the sea voyage at all, she had thought in terms of a stateroom, or at least a decent sized cabin.
“The girls are, and I shall be with them. Barnardo children are usually steerage passengers. People who support our various endeavours do not expect their money to be wasted. It is only through Mr. Hollingsworth’s generosity that your own little group is travelling second class, a benefit my niece shall also reap.”
“But does not want,” said Miss Elwood. “I should be the one in steerage, Aunt.”
Mrs. Bathurst shook her head. “You’ve not travelled by sea before. If it affects you adversely, you will be better off in a cabin.”
“We didn’t mean for Dr. Barnardo to use up any of Uncle Clive’s donation seeing to our comfort,” said Dane.
“He didn’t. I believe Mr. Hollingsworth’s housekeeper paid for the change. She was afraid steerage conditions might prove detrimental to little Philip’s delicate health.”
“Don’t knock it,” Paige said, before Dane could argue further. “An upgrade works for me. Aside from the discomfort, think sea disaster. If we hit an ice berg, I don’t want to be among the last people deemed worthy of rescue.”
“We’re not going to hit an ice berg,” said Jack. “They’re only a danger in the spring and early summer, when the northern ice floes start to melt.”
“Really? Fancy you knowing that at your age.” Despite her mistrust of progressive education, Miss Elwood was clearly impressed.
Oh, sure, thought Paige. He can know things. He’s a boy. If I’d said that, she’d have told me to stop stuffing so much into my poor, inferior, female brain.
“Well, I still don’t think I’d like to be in steerage,” she said aloud.
“Like does not enter into it,” Mrs. Bathurst replied. “Since I cannot bring the others into second class, Miss Elwood will, for much of each day, bring you to me—in steerage.”
Throngs of people were on the landing stage trying to get on the tenders. Steerage passengers boarded first and were responsible for all their luggage. Men with muscles strengthened by hard work tossed their own boxes and trunks onto the tenders and then performed the same service for those less able. Two such fellows helped Mrs. Bathurst and the girls and she gave them each a penny.
Aboard ship, the same men accompanied them to steerage, an area where conditions were as stark as Paige had anticipated. She wrinkled her nose at the pungent smell that assailed her nostrils even before a series of half stairways and half ladders took her some sixteen feet below deck. Looking round, she saw the steerage area was basically a long, dark, room, with doors leading into sleeping compartments.
The compartments accommodated either twenty-four adults, or family groups of twelve. Mrs. Bathurst and the girls were in one of the latter, sharing with a woman with an assortment of children: a teenage boy, a teenage girl, another girl of twelve, and two boys about ten and eight. The woman said she was going to join her husband on a farm he had purchased in Canada.
“Lads’ll be a big help to their dad,” she added in a northern accent. “He weren’t too set on the lasses coming, but I told him it were all of us or none.”
“Good for you,” said Paige, horrified by the man’s callous attitude toward what he obviously thought of as useless females.
“Be glad of ’em, I ’spects,” another woman said, her speech identifying her as a native of Devon or Cornwall. “’Tis sorry I am my little maid’s not older. ’Twould be nice to have a hand with the other children.”
Her little maid was only about five. The rest of the family consisted of two boys aged two and seven, a baby girl less than a year old, and the woman’s husband, who happened to be one of the men Mrs. Bathurst had hired. Since his own berth was in an all-male adult compartment, he was unable to help care for the children during the night, but often fed and played with them during the day.
So did several other fathers and, for a time, such help was necessary. Once the ship moved out of the harbour and reached the full swell of the sea, passengers of every class succumbed to what a few referred to as mal de mer, but most just called seasickness.
Miss Elwood, Hetty, Lizzie, Elsie, and Abigail were among the afflicted. Pip, surprisingly, was not. Nor were Jane, Daisy, or Mrs. Bathurst. Having frequently visited Vancouver Island, Paige was not expecting any trouble either, but by noon, she and Dane were lying flat on their backs feeling absolutely wretched.
“Must be because this ship’s bigger than a ferry,” she theorized, managing a feeble smile as Pip tried to apply a wet cloth to her forehead as he just had to Hetty’s.
“A lot bigger,” said Dane. “And rougher. It rolls like anything. Can’t they make it stop?”
“Not at this point in time.” Thanks to his travel bands, Jack was looking, and feeling, fine. From his seat on the edge of Dane’s bunk, he tried to explain the invalids’ malady to them. “Modern ships have stabilizers, but even those don’t keep people from getting seasick. Seasickness isn’t caused by the actual pitching and tossing of a ship.”
“It’s the pitching and tossing that makes my stomach pitch and toss,” Paige snapped back.
“No it isn’t. Your stomach moves around just as much when you run or jump. It’s just that on land, the ground you’re on stays firmly in place. So do most of the things around you. You feel okay because, even though you’re moving, you know that trees, and fences, and other things aren’t. It’s different at sea. At sea, what’s underneath you doesn’t hold firm. Your body’s balance mechanism has to re-programme itself. Until it does, the brain gets mixed messages. And whenever there’s a disturbance in the brain, other parts of the body react. Hence the stomach trouble. Do you want to know why it affects some people, and not others?”
“No,” Dane moaned.
“But it’s interesting. It’s because—”
With great effort, Paige propped herself up on one arm, dislodging Pip’s cloth. Looking directly at her cousin, she said, “Jack, if you do not stop jabbering about why we feel the way we do, I am, with my last ounce of strength, going to do you serious harm.”
“And I’ll help her,” said Dane.
“Me and all,” said Hetty.
“So will I,” said Miss Elwood, whom they had hitherto thought to be asleep.
Not so taken with his brilliant mind now, are you? thought Paige.
Jack obviously sensed this as well. He got up. On his way out, he paused. “It’ll be all right, you know. After a while, your brain will figure everything out and you’ll get your sea legs.”
He ducked the hairbrush Dane threw at him.
Down in steerage, Lizzie, Elsie, and Abigail were not any more interested in the causes of seasickness than the others had been. Nor was Mrs. Bathurst, who was busy attending to them. She looked up as he approached.
“Jane has taken little Daisy up on deck. I think it best that you join them.”
Jack was glad to do so. Steerage’s ordinary smell had been bad enough. With so many of its occupants ill, the odour was quite overpowering. He mentally thanked Mrs. Granger for getting them into second class.
Up on deck, he found ten-year-old Jane sitting on a coil of rope, gazing out at the churning water. They were now well out to sea, with no land in sight. Every so often, she looked over to Daisy, who was playing with two of the children from the compartment next to theirs.
“Mrs. Pender’s,” she informed him. “I offered to watch them as well as Daisy. Her other two are sick. So’s she. Her husband’s seeing to them all.” Though now an orphan, Jane’s parents had been upmarket shopkeepers and her speech was more refined than that of her travelling companions.
“It’s quite rough
, isn’t it?” Jack observed, leaning against the rail to watch waves splash against the ship.
“I don’t mind. The air’s better up here.”
“Oi, you—get away from there,” a voice shouted. “You want to get swept overboard?”
A scowling seaman jerked his thumb toward Jane, indicating Jack should move over by her.
Jack did so. The two of them sat talking until the waves began to crash against the rails and wash right over the deck. At that point, the seaman made them leave. An hour later, even adult passengers were ordered below. Everyone was confined there for the rest of that day and all of the next. It was not until the fourth day out that the sea became calmer, and people were allowed up on deck again. By the fifth, the majority of passengers had found the sea legs Jack had spoken of, and established daily routines.
Miss Elwood and her group ate and slept in second class, but spent the rest of their time down in steerage with the others. Steerage meals were filling, but not particularly appetizing. Mrs. Bathurst declared that, had her niece not smuggled her better fare from second class, she would have subsisted solely on potatoes, which she claimed were about the only edible items on offer.
Others from second class sometimes slipped down into steerage too. Some had friends whose circumstances had forced them to travel less comfortably than themselves, others just thought certain aspects of steerage looked like more fun. This was especially true at night, when even first class passengers sometimes chose the merry dance music coming from fiddles and accordions over the staid waltzes being played in the saloon.
In the daytime, first class visitors tended to have less credible motives. Bored, some of them stood up on their own deck and studied the steerage passengers, often laying wagers as to their origins, occupations, or names. To settle them, they would enter steerage and make inquiries of the object of their attention.
“He’s got a nerve,” said Paige, after hearing an Irish girl assure a smartly dressed young man that he had won his bet regarding the country of her birth. “Just because he’s rich, he figures he and his friends can use some poor person for his personal amusement.”
Hetty shrugged. “She got sixpence out of it.”
“That doesn’t make it right.”
“No, it doesn’t.” Mrs. Bathurst favoured Paige with an unexpected look of approval. “Most of these people are honest and hard-working. They will be an asset to Canada.”
“Have you been there before?” Paige asked her.
“Yes, twice. My brother lives in Kingston. When I wrote to say I was coming for another visit, he asked me to bring a little girl over as a companion for his wife. She’s not very strong, and with their daughters grown and gone, she gets lonely when he’s away on business. I thought Elizabeth would suit. At twelve, she’s old enough to be of help in the house and young enough to learn to fit into their ways. I brought the other children, and yourselves, along as a favour to Dr. Barnardo. I do not usually take on escort duties. I’m getting on a bit for that sort of thing. These, however, are being very good.”
She even managed a smile in the direction of the five girls who, along with Pip and a number of other children, were clustered around a teenage boy who was performing magic tricks.
“One of my brothers does conjuring,” said Miss Elwood, “but he’s not a patch on this boy. I can’t think how he’s managing some of those tricks.”
“Yeah, it’s a wonder he’s going to Canada,” said Hetty. “He’s good enough to be making a fair living on the streets.”
Intrigued, she and Miss Elwood moved closer.
“I expect he wants to do better for himself,” Mrs. Bathurst said to Paige and the boys, who all remained by her side. “Street entertainers live from hand to mouth, and have to endure the foul air and moral dangers of the cities. Rural life is much more wholesome.”
“Hard work, though,” Paige remarked.
“Hard work never hurt anyone. It builds both strength and character. Those who choose to apply themselves should do well in Canada. Idlers and malingerers prosper nowhere.”
Her moment of friendliness having passed, she went on to deliver a ten-minute lecture on the virtues of honest toil.
“I’m surprised she didn’t consider us idlers and malingerers when we were seasick,” Dane said when she finally exhausted the topic and went to round up the Barnardo children and give their idle hands something to do.
“She probably would have if her niece hadn’t been laid up as well. You’re lucky your travel bands work so well, Jack. The next time we connect to some time and place from which there is even the remotest possibility of our having to go to sea, I’m going to bring some too—along with anti-nausea pills and anything else modern science can provide.”
“Come along, you three,” Mrs. Bathurst said, as she led the others past. “We’re going to read a Bible story. After that, the boys will do maths with Miss Elwood and the girls will do mending or embroidery with me.”
Paige demurred. “I don’t know how to mend. Or embroider.”
Mrs. Bathurst looked shocked. “You don’t? A girl of your age? Then it’s certainly time you learned. Come along.”
For a moment, Paige looked so mutinous, it seemed she would refuse. But then she shrugged and followed the ladies below. “Oh, well, she said to Dane. “At least it’s something to do.”
Chapter Eighteen
Over the next two days, lessons and busy work occupied much of the children’s time. Miss Elwood had been taking her second class charges down to steerage at about half past eight in the morning, but on their ninth day at sea, she received a message from Mrs. Bathurst asking her to come earlier.
“It’s Mrs. Pender,” Mrs. Bathurst explained as soon as they arrived. “She’s not at all well. Since the sea’s a bit choppy again today, the ship’s doctor thinks it’s just seasickness. Her husband disagrees. So do I. I believe she’s eaten something that has disagreed with her—which would not be difficult here. I’ve been told one of the second class passengers is a medical man. Are you at all acquainted with him, Prudence?”
“No, but I know who he is. Shall I fetch him, Aunt Winifred?”
“Yes, please. Elizabeth and Jane have taken the Pender children and our three younger girls up on deck. These ones can join them. I’m placing everyone in your charge, Patience. Unless the deck is put off limits, you are to stay there until Miss Elwood comes for you.”
Pleased to have some time to themselves, Paige waved the others in the direction of the deck before she could change her mind.
Hurrying up the last set of stairs, she almost collided with a boy of about ten.
“Hey, watch it,” she said.
The boy apologized. “Sorry. Just off to fetch me brother. He wouldn’t want to miss this.”
“Miss what?”
“Some toff’s offering sixpence to any kid what’s brave enough to walk along the rail a piece.” The boy’s face was flushed with excitement.
“What? He must be crazy!” Paige shook her head in disbelief. “All the other grown-ups on this ship act like keeping us away from the rails is their mission in life. They barely let us stand by them, let alone walk on them. Especially on a day like this.”
“Perhaps he’s using reverse psychology,” said Jack. “He might think if he tells them to do it, they won’t.”
“They is, though,” the boy assured them. “And it i’nt that scary. He’s got a sailor standing by to grab ’em if they goes to fall.”
“It’s still dangerous.” Paige scowled. “Stupid rich people. I suppose he doesn’t think anyone will care if some poor steerage kid goes overboard. I can’t believe a sailor’s going along with it.”
“Yeah, they’s usually the worst ones for nagging,” said Hetty.
“Let’s go see,” Dane said, as the boy hurried off to find his brother.
The rail walking competition was taking place on a section of the deck that was shielded from the view of most crewmembers. A black-caped gentleman had his
back to the deck’s access point, as did the seaman who was standing at the rail within snatching range of the eight-year-old boy currently attempting the feat. At least a dozen children were watching him, the boys with admiration, the girls with concern.
“Lizzie and I made our lot go farther along to listen to a story some woman’s reading, but none of these others would,” Jane told the new arrivals.
“Ah, go on,” said a boy. “It’s just a bit of fun.”
“Fun?” echoed Paige. “One slip and he’s had it.” She looked around for adult back-up, but the only ones in the immediate vicinity were an elderly man dozing on a camp stool, and a young couple too engrossed in each other to pay attention to anything else.
She watched in horrified fascination as the boy faltered, and was swung back onto the deck by the seaman.
“We’ll have you next,” said the caped gentleman, turning and beckoning to Pip.
“You won’t. Come’re, Pip.” Snatching up her brother’s hand, Hetty gasped as the man’s face registered with her.
“It’s him!” she cried.
And it was. Before they could turn and run, the man who had attacked Eustachio in Hyde Park leapt forward, snatched them up by their collars, and dragged them to the rail.
Paige and Dane immediately launched themselves at him, but were blocked by the seaman, a rough-looking man with a beard. Dodging around him, they each grabbed one of the caped man’s arms and held on until the seaman jerked them away.
His path now clear, the man hoisted his captives high above the rail.
“Here’s an end to your meddling, my dears,” he snarled.
But before he could drop them overboard, he was struck from behind. With the other children all too shocked to even cry out, Jack, Jane, and Lizzie had used their combined strength to tip over a nearby wooden barrel and roll it at him, knocking him down. This spectacle distracted the seaman long enough for Dane and Paige to break free of him and run to the rail. Dane reached it first and climbed up to help Hetty and Pip, who had managed to catch hold of the seaward side when the barrel found its mark. Scrambling to his feet, the now thoroughly enraged man swore, and vaulted to the top of the rail. Using one hand to maintain a hold, he seized Dane with the other and wrenched him away from a screaming Pip. Dane’s glasses clattered to the deck, and his frantic attempts to twist out of the man’s grip put both of them off-balance. Seconds later, they were toppling into the sea.
