by Lyn Cote
The prompting increased, demanding.
Blinking away the moisture, she picked up the quill and penned:
Dear Cousin,
I am writing to let thee know that I have married a Friend in Pittsburgh, Samuel Cathwell. He is a glassblower by trade. We are about to move to Ohio, near Cincinnati. Royale is going with us.
She knew she should add an inquiry about how Darah was, but she could not. Darah was doing very well indeed. She had inherited High Oaks and over a hundred slaves and was living comfortably with Alec’s aunt while waiting for her mourning period to end so she and Alec could marry.
Honor ended the letter formally:
Thy obedient servant,
Mrs. Samuel Cathwell
Before her trembling hands could tear it up, she sanded the ink, heated the wax, and sealed the folded letter.
She rose, shaken. She hoped that Darah didn’t read anything sad into the sparse words. She didn’t want her cousin’s pity.
Honor heard Royale opening the kitchen door; then a man’s voice sounded. The land agent, no doubt. She entered the kitchen, where Samuel had risen in silent greeting. “Good day, Friend,” she said and signed.
The three of them sat at the round table. Royale led Eli outside to play. While Honor signed the agent’s words to Samuel and he set his name to the documents, transferring the deed and receiving a bank draft for the price of the house, Honor studied her husband.
Going with him to the manufactory had increased her respect for Samuel Cathwell. How did he do such dangerous and exacting work? And even in the heat of summer.
Within a few minutes the transaction was done. The land agent departed.
As her husband rose to leave, Honor stopped him. Why didn’t he tell her what she needed to know without being asked? “When do we leave for Ohio?”
“Within the month. We must go to the docks and make reservations on a steamboat to Cincinnati.”
“A steamboat?” The idea of trying out this newest mode of travel startled her.
“I will help you pack,” Samuel signed. “We will need the household items, but I have sold the house furnished.”
Honor had trouble drawing breath and could only nod. Another deeply unwelcome packing up and leaving. She tried to think of something to say, but no thoughts or words appeared. Just the taunting image of Darah and Alec, stone-faced, staring at her across her grandfather’s grave.
OCTOBER 15, 1819
After nearly a month of preparation, Honor stood uncertainly on the Pittsburgh wharf with Samuel at her side. At her elbow was Royale with Eli in hand. This place marked the head of the mighty Ohio, where two rivers—the Allegheny and Monongahela—converged.
A trace of autumn chill chose this morning to appear, raising a billowing, cloaking mist. The murky, turbulent sky reflected her feelings toward her husband, toward this journey to a new home. She did not want to get on that steamboat.
A high whistle sounded, goading her. In the jostling but groggy crowd, Honor urged Royale and Eli toward the gangplank. Samuel strode forward and offered Royale his hand to help her onto the plank. Then he turned to Honor.
Honor hesitated. She felt as if she were about to step across some invisible but palpable line. Once on deck, there would be no turning back. She would be putting her whole trust in this distant, confusing man who had married her only out of necessity or obligation, not out of love nor even fondness.
He signed, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Her pulse thrumming at her temples, she grasped his hand. Still she glanced over her shoulder one last time. But why? Nothing, no one remained for her in Pittsburgh. With a deep breath, she stepped aboard.
While gaining control over her unruly emotions, Honor scanned the steamboat, the first she’d ever boarded. The craft looked shiny new, neat and imposing with its tall black smokestack. Two large cabins sat in the middle of the deck, leaving plenty of room to walk around. Through the mist, she saw the top rim of a large paddle wheel attached to the side of the boat. She tried to draw confidence from these signs of progress and attention to detail.
A uniformed man greeted them immediately, looking at a black ledger in his hand. “Name, please?”
For a moment Honor waited for Samuel, the man, to reply for them. Then she remembered she was Samuel’s voice. “We are the Cathwells. I am Mrs. Samuel Cathwell.” This was the first time she had given her new name aloud. She felt as if she were speaking of someone else.
The official lifted an eyebrow, no doubt at her replying instead of her husband. He jotted something in the book with a pencil. “You will be in Cincinnati tomorrow evening.” And then he cocked his head as if waiting for her response.
“One night?” Honor echoed in genuine surprise, remembering to sign this to Samuel.
“Yes,” the man said, beaming smugly. “We will arrive at Cincinnati tomorrow evening.”
She gaped at him. “That quickly?” When she’d bought the tickets, she hadn’t asked how long the journey would be. Her dread of traveling had rendered her nearly silent. But she’d expected she would have to endure days and nights of travel—difficult, but it would provide her time to think, to prepare, before they arrived at a strange new place. Instead the future was rushing forth to engulf her.
“The old keelboats sometimes took two weeks or more to reach Cincinnati.” The official had been eyeing them as he spoke. “What’s that you’re doing with your hands?”
At the rude question, she primmed her lips. “My husband is deaf, so I speak to him in sign language.” She did not sign this exchange to Samuel.
The official raised both eyebrows. “A good-looking woman like you had to marry a deaf-mute?”
The man’s impertinent question made Honor bridle. She scalded him with a glance and moved them past. She didn’t appreciate the way people deemed Samuel less than he was. She made sure she clung to his arm, letting it be known she didn’t scorn him.
As more passengers arrived, she, Samuel, and Royale, with Eli huddled against her shoulder, gazed around. The newness of this experience dawned on Honor, lifting her spirits. Riverboat travel was not even a decade old. This was something to see, something she would remember all her life. A true adventure.
She felt a throbbing beneath their feet. “Can thee feel that?” she signed to Samuel, pointing to the deck.
“Yes. It is the steam engine that powers the wheel.” He gestured toward the paddle wheel. “The engine burns coal, and the steam turns the wheel, which propels the boat.”
“Thee has been on a steamboat before?”
“No, but I saw the first steamboat leave Pittsburgh harbor in 1811,” Samuel commented as he squired her to the foredeck. Samuel’s confidence and knowledge bolstered her.
She heard the order: “Cast off!”
Sharply she turned for one last glance of Pittsburgh, but now the mist concealed it. She moved closer to Samuel, needing his support. Royale huddled closer to Samuel also, Eli clinging tightly to her. The child had become more quiet and withdrawn over the past weeks. This disruption had affected him, too. The moment of departing united them. Farewell, Miriam.
The engine roared beneath them, and the paddle wheel began to turn, sending up water. The boat swooped forward, away from land onto the mighty river. Honor grabbed the deck railing, as did Royale. Samuel stood behind Honor as if ready to catch her. But soon the motion evened out, and as they headed west, the mist flew past them.
The die had been cast.
Under her feet, the motion was different from the rocking motion of the sailing ship they’d traveled on from Maryland to Philadelphia. She’d been afraid she might be seasick again, but no. Both the shock of leaving and the elation of the new experience evaporated at last. Fatigued, Honor sat down on a bench outside the cabin door marked Ladies, and Royale sat next to her. Eli rested his head in her lap, content to be held.
Scanning the deck, Honor noted that she and Royale were among only a few women on board. She glanced around a
t the few other passengers. With an eye toward serviceability, not elegance, Honor wore her plainest mourning dress and bonnet. But a few of the men traveling with them sported expensive suits, intricate white cravats, and tall beaver hats.
A black woman dressed in a dark dress and a starched white apron approached her. “If you follow me, please, ma’am, I’ll show you and your maid the ladies’ compartment.”
Honor signed this to Samuel and left Eli with him. Finally the child appeared interested in what was going on, though he stayed close to Samuel. The ladies’ compartment, at the front of the nearest cabin, was furnished with a bench along one wall, as well as four berths, two on each of the longer paneled walls. In one corner stood a cabinet where the chamber commode was discreetly positioned behind a curtain. Beside it were a marble-topped vanity with a secured ewer and a mirror hanging on the wall. Everything was spotless and new.
“This is very well-appointed,” Honor breathed. “I didn’t think the accommodations would be so comfortable.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The woman looked at Honor and then considered Royale, her forehead wrinkled in concern.
“Yes?” Honor prompted.
“I think your maid best sleep with me in my quarters. I got an extra bunk for when the boat has more passengers and need another maid.”
“That be fine with me,” Royale spoke up. “Eli probably want to stay with his uncle anyway. He feel more safe.”
The maid looked relieved, and Honor sighed, reassured. She had been concerned that there might not be any quarters for Royale and that she’d be expected to sleep outside, unprotected, something Honor would not permit.
“Anytime you need anything,” the boat’s maid continued, “you tell your maid and I’ll get it.” She left them, closing the door behind her.
Royale gazed around her, standing in the middle of the room. “I think I’m getting so I understand Mr. Cathwell better when he’s signing. How do I sign ‘Yes, sir,’ again?”
Honor demonstrated the sign she’d made up for sir, a motion toward the head as if tipping a hat. She had found spelling out each word in the sign alphabet arduous and was trying to come up with simple motions for more of the oft-repeated words and phrases.
Royale imitated the sign and added a nod with it to denote “Yes, sir.” Then she practiced “No, sir,” a shake of the head with the tipping motion.
Honor had suggested that now that Royale was free and had revealed their blood connection to her, she should dispense with the use of ma’am, Miss Honor, and sir. But Royale had insisted that she was the hired maid and it wouldn’t be proper. Something more than that lay behind it—something that Royale evidently needed—so Honor let her have her way. No doubt part of it was the strict line separating the races. Any breach of this would fall hardest on Royale.
Honor set her small traveling bag on one of the berths and sighed again. Since leaving Maryland, she had not slept well; after weeks of cleaning and packing, she was exhausted. She wished she could lie down here and now.
But Samuel might need her to communicate. So they went out onto the deck and sat on the bench again. Only two days and one night on this craft. Honor leaned back against the cabin wall and sent her husband a smile. He scowled at her, and it froze her in place. I must speak to Samuel, find out more about where we will be settling. And why he’s angry.
The swift, modern steamboat fascinated Samuel, but he hated being trapped in one place with a lot of people he didn’t know. Worse, his new wife hadn’t wanted to get on board the boat this morning, hadn’t wanted to leave with him. He’d felt her reluctance.
When Honor and Royale came out of the ladies’ compartment, he gave Eli to Royale’s care and walked to the railing. Taking off his hat, he swiped his cuff over his forehead, wiping away the early mist collected there. Cutting ties with all he’d ever known had wound him up like a top. He couldn’t settle down.
One of the men, well dressed and handsome, leaned against the rail near him and stared at Honor from under the brim of his beaver hat. Other men kept looking at Honor, some discreetly, some blatantly. But what could he do to prevent them from eyeing his wife? Was she returning their interest?
Samuel turned toward Honor, seated on the bench. Her face was shielded from him by her bonnet brim, wide and dark. He walked over and looked down at her. Her eyes were closed. But perhaps she had heard him coming and closed her eyes. Had she been looking back at the man by the railing?
Honor opened her eyes. Had she heard Samuel’s footsteps? She patted a spot next to her on the red-painted bench. “Please, may we talk?” she signed.
The irritation of being with strangers, the unexpected homesickness, and the pretty wife who was a temptation to other men all combined to gall him. But at her request he sat, staring at the heavily forested shoreline they flowed past.
“Please tell me everything thee has planned for our home in Ohio. What kind of place is it?”
“The description of our property is a large barn, a house, and ten tillable acres.”
“How far is this from Cincinnati proper?”
He shrugged. “The letter said half a day’s ride to Sharpesburg.”
Honor tilted her head as if wanting to see his face better around the confines of her bonnet brim. “Is it a large town?”
He shrugged again.
She touched his shoulder. “I need to know where we are going. What to expect.”
He rose. “Later.” He was a cur for leaving it at that. But how could he tell her the truth? That was all he knew.
With the sun high overhead, Honor walked to the railing, claimed Samuel’s arm, and signed to him that the dinner bell had just been rung.
An urgent shout—clearly nothing to do with the dinner bell—went up from the passengers and crew. Alarmed, Honor swung around to see what was upsetting everyone.
What she saw shocked her speechless. A canoe with three bare-chested Indians had launched from a nearby island. They were paddling straight toward the steamboat. Stories of scalpings flashed through her mind. Would they be attacked?
On deck, crew members brought out concealed rifles, and some of the passengers drew pistols. All the armed men took aim at the Indians. One of the crew sent a warning shot over their heads.
Honor had heard a gunshot before, but not one aimed toward another human. She stood rooted to the spot.
Samuel yanked her closer and shoved her behind him. Royale hurried over with Eli and hunkered down behind Samuel too.
Frightened yet unable to resist curiosity, Honor peered around her husband’s broad back, gripping his sleeves from behind. The Indians wore buckskin and feathers but were too far away for her to distinguish more than that.
Then the Indians held up their hands, showing that they held no weapons. They pointed to the boat, chattering to each other and yelling with obvious amazement.
“Oh!” she cried out, fearful but hoping to defuse possible violence. The Indians didn’t look as if they intended to attack. They were merely marveling. “They just haven’t seen a steamboat before!”
“That may be,” the captain said, appearing on deck with a pistol in hand. “Still, keep those rifles pointed at them. But don’t shoot unless they try to board!”
The Indians stopped coming nearer but kept pace with the boat for about a mile or so, craning their necks to fully view the marvel. Then they turned their canoe aside and headed for another island.
Honor watched the entire time, her tension easing after the canoe disappeared from sight. Once the steamboat passed that island, the crew lowered their rifles, but a few remained at the rear, watchful, in case more Indians appeared.
Samuel turned and faced her, gripping her shoulders gently as if she might break in his grasp. Then he released her, signing, “Are you all right?”
After a morning of his surly company, his concern and touch now scattered her wits. She inhaled the clear air, tinged by the smell of burning coal. “I’m fine.” She tentatively placed one hand over his
and signed with the other. “I understand how the Indians feel, seeing their first steamboat. I had never seen a canoe with Indians.” She grinned at her own whimsy.
Samuel looked mystified at her smile but moved his hand to the small of her back, guiding her to the long table and benches secured to the deck between the two cabins. Above, a canvas canopy fluttered in the breeze, shielding them from sun or rain.
Samuel’s unexpected concern lifted Honor’s mood. The sky stretched overhead so blue, and the breeze was so refreshing and fragrant with the scent of ham, the steamboat so unexpectedly comfortable. For the first time in many weeks, she found herself smiling naturally, not in a gallant attempt to hide her worry. She hazarded a glance at her husband.
Uncertain over the meaning of Honor’s unexpected smiles, Samuel now faced the ordeal of a communal meal. He didn’t like sitting among others who conversed, excluding him. He also wanted to keep Honor away from the other men aboard.
As they neared the table, he saw the men standing, waiting. Manners dictated that they wait to sit until the ladies had been seated. Honor gripped his arm, and he helped her negotiate the bench, her narrow skirt constricting her movements. The other ladies followed her lead; then the men sat down.
One handsome young man wearing the finest suit and shiniest beaver hat Samuel had seen aboard—a dandy, all right—managed to shift into the place directly across from Honor. The dandy greeted Honor with many words and flamboyant motions. Samuel fumed, taking his seat beside his wife, ignored. Royale set Eli between his wife and him.
The two servants—one waiter and one maid, with Royale helping them—served the meal family style, passing around large bowls of boiled potatoes, sliced ham, thick pieces of bread, cheese, and a bowl of ripe apples. The food awakened his hunger, and he served himself from the bowls passed to him. He noted that Honor filled Eli’s plate as she talked and smiled. This caught around his heart. She would be a good mother to Eli.
The irritating dandy addressed Honor. Samuel could sometimes read lips. He caught the word husband and stiffened. What was the man saying about him?
