The Glovemaker's Daughter

by Leah Fleming

  I smiled and held out my hand. ‘ ’Tis time to be on our way. Only God knows the truth of this matter and I commend you to His mercy. Many thanks for your kindness. We have many a mile yet to journey and the rain’s not going to cease from the look of those clouds. I bid thee farewell.’

  There was a smile of relief on her flushed cheeks. ‘One day you’ll know a mother’s love in your heart and all the blessings and woes that comes alongside. However far off you are in savage lands, remember this parting and the wise thing you have done. Think on, when roots are disturbed and torn asunder they grow badly after that and are weakened, but left to themselves they grow tall and sturdy with many branches and all the fowls of the air shelter in them. Thank you.’

  As I rode alone northwards towards my old home, I pondered over the lesson I was given in that farmstead. Sometime it’s better perhaps to leave well alone and not sit in judgement on others’ doings. My tongue is always quick to lash out with my own opinions, quick to condemn where I see a shortfall. In this I was no better than many of the worthies of the women’s meeting. Having been at the receiving end of their disapproval I should know how that felt.

  Perhaps a return to Windebank for a few months might help me curb this fault, teach me humility and patience once more. If I was to fulfil my dream and vision for the future, I would be needing their support in many practical things. Travelling to the New World must mean a fresh start, a renewal of my calling and a chance to put this old life behind me. I must not rely on the faith of Ellinor and her preacher but on my own spiritual strength. I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills; from whence cometh my help. Where better than in the high dales to find the courage and resolve to face the biggest challenge of my life?

  JANUARY 2015

  Hi Sam

  Happy New Year! Hope you had a good holiday. Mine was quiet as I was struck down with the wretched flu. Not done much on Joy’s life in Leeds but I spent a day in London at the Society of Friends HQ where I was able to browse into their records to see if I could find her court cases. I did find mention of Jacob Wrathall visiting outlying Dales villages preaching in their Meeting Houses. I also came across a fascinating book in the Settle Meeting House dated 1849 containing the letters from William Ellis of Airton who travelled across to America and walked up the Eastern seaboard visiting Friends. They made them tough in those days. The letters are nothing like as personal as Joy’s account though.

  One thing I was able to copy was the original Treatise written by William Penn for those intending to emigrate. It is a fascinating document full of specific details on what and how much to bring on the voyage and what to build on arrival. I have sent a copy by snail mail for you to peruse.

  Looking forward to the next instalment.

  I am reporting back to our local history group who are now on the trail of Joy’s history with gusto.

  Best

  Rachel

  19

  Ellinor and I stood by the wharf alongside the Thames gazing up in awe at the forest of tall sailing masts and the large vessels bobbing on the grey water. I must admit to a great fear descending over me at the risk we were now about to undertake together. My dear friend’s face was drained of all colour but she tried to assure me that all would be well.

  ‘We’re on the Lord’s work. He will be our strength,’ she added, seeing my lips tremble. ‘And look, we’re not alone in this trial.’

  There was a horde of us travellers bunched together surrounded by baggage, bales, barrels of provisions along with children excited by the mighty port wanting to explore everything in sight. The sea journey down the Yorkshire coast was uneventful. We stopped to watch Friends from Hull boarding and it was here I was introduced to my new employers, Joseph and Mary Emsworth and their children, who would be my charge on the crossing.

  This was by now a tried and trusted passage across the ocean. Lessons had been learned the hard way and nothing was left to chance. William Penn himself had published a Treatise for those inclined to go to America with lists of what must be supplied. Jacob pored over it for months making sure all our group knew what we were supposed to bring with us in the way of clothes, food, practical tools. We must be ready to begin a new life in a new settlement.

  It had taken nearly a year to gather together all the necessary certificates and permissions from our various meetings, to find enough moneys for a passage and expenses. We relied on the generosity of our fellow Friends to furnish the basic sums required for those like me of few means. Many enthusiasts fell by the wayside at the cost of such an undertaking.

  Thanks to Uncle Roger, I did not go empty handed but with a great round of clothed cheese and a keg of salted butter. Aunt Margery offered some coarse linen and a strong woollen dress length, knitted stockings and a new shift to change into when I arrived at our destination. I should have sold my precious gloves to fund my journey but try as I might I could not bring myself to part with them. Already I knew I was falling into the devil’s snare by coveting these fancy goods, hiding them in my sack with much shame.

  That last visit to Windebank after the storm seemed many months away. It was the respite I needed to calm my troubled thoughts in hard farm work and family matters. The pieces of eight my uncle gifted me as I left were carefully sewn into my waistcoat to help us through the early weeks. Ellinor and I were now indentured as servants and preachers for four years in order to fund the rest of our passage and board and lodgings on our arrival.

  In my absence in the Dales I imagined much lovemaking between the young preacher and my friend but there was no betrothal, only an understanding that if they felt as one on arrival in America, they would go before the selection committee and ask to be married. Jacob was supported by the Leeds meeting and taking bales of cloth to be sold in exchange for molasses, furs and fine timber.

  ‘There it is!’ shouted young George, who was nine, tugging at my hand and pointing the way to our ship. ‘The Good Hope, the Good Hope! Do you think it knows the way?’

  ‘I’m sure it has sailed across many times, trusting its name was a good omen.’

  Staring up at the rigging with the breeze whipping my cheeks I tried to stay calm.

  ‘Don’t worry, we’re travelling in summer. It will be pleasant,’ added Mary Emsworth. ‘Hold the babe, Joy, while I check that all our provisions are safe aboard and our barrels are labelled for our use. Not everyone on board will be of our persuasion, I fear. There may be thieves among the crew. I’ve heard they transport villains from our gaols to settle the colonies in Maryland.’

  My new mistress was with child again and trusting that her stomach would not empty its contents with a rough crossing. If the journey down the coast was anything to go by, she would be confined to her cabin, unable to move with sea-sickness.

  Already our clothes were crushed, soiled and our collars and caps grubby but this was no place for vanity. We would have no time to change garments. I was glad to be wearing my workday mulberry skirt and jacket over my waistcoat and shift. All my sewing threads and needles were carefully put in my sack ready to be of use. I hoped to knit socks with my knitting stick and mend anything that got torn.

  I was trusting the Emsworths had provisioned well with barrels of oats, peas, salt beef and eggs sufficient to see us through the voyage without having to buy extra stuff from the Captain and his men.

  There were crowds of other folk waiting to board, foreigners with dark skins and strange costumes, women in fancy outfits. ‘We stay together at all times,’ Jacob advised, gathering us up like sheep in a pen. ‘If supplies get low we’ll pool together, loaves and fishes,’ he smiled. ‘Loaves and fishes, remember.’

  ‘We must make sure he eats with us,’ Ellinor whispered. ‘I don’t think he has much in his purse. He’s sold everything he has but his carpenter’s tools. He’s too proud to ask for extra assistance.’ I noticed then how this passion was changing my friend like some fever taking hold of her body and soul. Only once in my twenty-two years on this earth h
ad I known such brief amorous love, thwarted though it had to be. I could see it brought fire into her eyes and a softness to her preaching. I must learn to be patient and hope that the Lord would find a suitable helpmeet for me in the far-off land, a man who would bring fire into my belly.

  Then came the moment of embarkation; a clatter of leather shoes and wooden clogs on the boarding planks, a rush to stay together in a group. There was hardly time to take my leave of the mighty city behind us. Who here would care that we were departing for a new way of living with freedom to worship as we thought truthful? Would I ever see these shores again except in my dreams?

  The first thing that hit me was the smell. It was if the stench of years of sweat, vomit and excrement masked by oil and tobacco fumes had soaked into the very timbers of the ship. We were ushered down a ladder from the deck into the hold under the watchful eyes of seamen with walnut faces and grease-stained shirts.

  That was when I realised that we were just another shipload, a human cargo to be transported alongside our goats, pigs, chickens, geese and livestock. For a second I wanted to turn back in disgust at what lay below but Ellinor was shoving me from behind and I had baby Liddy crying in my arms. It was too late now for second thoughts.

  In our innocence we assumed we would be apportioned cabins, not herded like cattle into a narrow low-roofed between-deck. There was an open space along which were boards for bedding down. Were we to be living cheek by jowl in open view of strangers?

  ‘Surely there will be women’s quarters?’ I was panicking, unused to being on display at all times.

  ‘Give them time to fill the ship. Families will stay together so we can raise sheets to give us private spaces.’

  ‘But where do we do the private necessaries?’ I asked. Was there only a hole in the planking, or a bucket?

  ‘We’ll ask later. Don’t fuss. It’s only for a few weeks. The Lord will provide.’ Ellinor as always stayed calm.

  I was no longer sure about this in such a dark crush. The air was already thick with smoke and body fumes.

  ‘Better keep to below deck and exercise with caution. If there’s a swell there could be danger on wet decking. Let us sit in silence together and ask God’s blessing on our venture. May we have a fair wind and a calm crossing so we start our new life refreshed in body and spirit.’ Jacob was gathering his flock together.

  The Emsworth boys were not for sitting still and neither was I. George was already tearing down the gangway looking for other children to play with. Passengers were still coming down the ladder with their bulky bundles so I charged after him in case he tripped and was trampled. Sam was clutching at my skirt, wanting to follow, when a seaman shouted, ‘Women down the hatch to the far end with children and maids.’

  Mary was protesting with some of the others who didn’t want to be separated from their husbands but orders were orders. Better to separate and stay safe together. Liddy was still at the breast so needed her mother to be close by.

  Aunt Margery would be horrified at these privations but those of us who had experienced the Leeds lock-up knew the conditions here in comparison would be bearable enough. Where bodies lie close and breathe over each other, would disease soon follow? What foulness was already waiting to pounce on us? I fingered the little leather-bound Herbal that Isabel Sampson had slipped into my hand at the last meeting. ‘Study it well, my dear,’ she added. ‘Nature is the best doctor.’ Little did I know then how precious its advice would be in the coming weeks.

  We seemed to be stuck in the river for hours waiting for a favourable wind and tide to take us out into the open sea. Ellinor and I, once secure in our quarters, climbed up with others curious to catch a last view of England. The ship rocked gently and then as the sails unfurled we felt the chill of the wind and the Good Hope lurched forward on its outward course. I fell backwards in a heap, pulling Ellinor down with me.

  A militia man in a scarlet uniform rushed forward to offer a hand which I gratefully accepted, my cheeks afire with embarrassment. ‘I thank thee,’ I muttered as he went to help Ellinor but she declined his hand, assuring him she could manage herself.

  I was surprised to see soldiers on board this passenger ship but now the Colonies are filling up, there must be public law and order.

  ‘Where are you two Quakers bound? Up the De La Warr to Pennsylvania, no doubt. Philadelphia’s a fine new city by all accounts.’ The young man was trying to make conversation with us but Ellinor took my arm and hurried us back down to the hold.

  ‘We mustn’t acquaint ourselves with those types. We have no truck with men who fire muskets and wield swords.’

  ‘I think he was just being polite and curious,’ I replied, turning to see who my helper had been.

  ‘You mustn’t encourage any intercourse unless it is of a spiritual nature. We were warned that intimacies on board ship are dangerous for young single women.’

  ‘He only helped me up from the floor, not offered to lie with me,’ I laughed.

  ‘Don’t be coarse, Joy.’

  ‘Don’t be so serious then,’ I snapped and wished I hadn’t when I saw the look of hurt on her face. Why could she not see the funny side of it all? Why must everything be either holy or sinful? What harm was there in smiling at a helpful stranger?

  20

  After those first balmy days when a fair wind took us along the Channel waters, I began to believe our journey would be without a hitch. As soon as we hit the open sea, matters took a sickly turn. Ellinor and I huddled together trying not to puke over our sleeping charges. For two nights and days a gale raged over us rocking and rolling the ship so that many cried out in fear and offered up prayers for our safety in their own foreign tongues. We whispered psalms to comfort each other as we lay prostrated by the urge to retch. Nothing I ate stayed down for more than an hour. My lips were parched for fresh rain water or thin beer but there was strict rationing of the clean stuff in favour of using up the brackish older water stored in the ship’s barrels. It tasted salty and foul.

  First the sickness and then the terrible stench of loose bowels and the flux that began to weaken older travellers and young children. A baby died and was carried up on deck. The mother howled and would not be comforted. It didn’t help than none of us could speak her language but grief needs no words.

  Ellinor soon recovered her sea legs, tirelessly visiting along the women lying down on the boards. She checked how Mary, Liddy and the boys were faring as I was too weak to stand.

  When I felt suddenly strong again I played pick-up-sticks with Sam and George. We laughed when the ship lurched and all the sticks would scatter. Sam cried out that it wasn’t fair, as he was winning.

  I was desperate to go aloft and feel the fresh salty air on my cheeks but Mary was insistent that we obey Jacob’s orders not to climb on deck in case a wave swept us into the sea.

  Our legs were stiff and swollen, my throat was dry but the worst discovery was that already our bodies were flea-bitten and our clothes crawling with lice. You could spend hours just trawling the seams, scraping them off with a knife to no avail.

  Filthy, itchy, hungry and sick, no one warned us that this was to be our lot for weeks to come. It was to be a test of courage indeed.

  Mary chided my obvious frustration and impatience. ‘Think of our Lord in the desert for forty days, Rejoice,’ she admonished me. ‘This is our wilderness trial.’

  I had to admire all those who sat calmly around me. Only their eyes showed their fear when the waves crashed into the side and sent them flying in all directions.

  ‘Are we nearly in America?’ George asked in all innocence when he had only been on board just over a sevennight.

  ‘Not yet, not yet but we’re moving ever closer to it.’

  That wasn’t strictly the truth on those heavy days when we lay becalmed by a contrary wind that seemed to be turning us backwards. The ship bobbed up and down while the sun beat down on the timbers and the heat below deck was like a bread oven.

 
It was when Ellinor fainted with tiredness that I begged to take her up into the fresher air. No one objected as we staggered up the ladder almost crawling along with relief to be out of that stench. Suddenly there was a rushing of seamen along the decking and men hanging over the rail shouting ‘Man overboard!’

  We collapsed in a corner out of their way. I settled Ellinor in the shade and went to see what was happening. There was a crowd of passengers crying and waving. ‘Come! Over here!’

  Looking down into the water I could just make out a head bobbing, splashing, making his way towards us. ‘The man went mad below, screaming he must leave the ship and go home. We couldn’t stop him. He jumped into the water for a swim.’

  They were trying to lower a rope to him but it was too short for him to grab the line. He was drifting further away from us until his head became a speck in the distance.

  I couldn’t bear to watch, knowing his thrashing would soon tire and that his fate was sealed.

  ‘It’s too late now. He’s too far out to be saved,’ said a voice behind me. I turned to see the same tall soldier who had helped me to my feet before.

  ‘They didn’t tell you the hazards of a sea voyage when you bought your ticket to freedom,’ he continued. ‘Only the strong survive this journey. Few children make shore except some of the babies born on the way and many of them . . .’ He paused, shaking his head. ‘I saw over thirty cast over the side on my last voyage. When sickness takes hold, they are the first to go.’

  ‘How many times have you done this crossing,’ I replied, curious.

  ‘This is my fourth and the last, I hope. I have no intention of returning. There’s only so much good fortune in a man’s life and I fear I have used up most of mine,’ he sighed.