Dreams and Nightmares

by Shirley A. Roe

  As she entered the infirmary, the smell was overpowering, more bodies were being carried to the side of the ship and a horrible premonition of doom descended over her. Two shipmen almost knocked her over as they carried yet another dead man from the room. As they passed, Martha looked at the body and there she saw the white, lifeless face of Dr. Wheeler. “Nooo…God, noo….” she screamed, every ounce of strength draining from her, as her body and her dreams, crumbled to the filthy, wooden deck.

  Jebediah spoke to her more that evening, than in the entire time they had been married. “ I'm deeply disappointed at your show of weakness. Fainting like a commoner, you have caused me great embarrassment. I was not happy about being called from my card game because my wife fainted.” He paced as he shouted, a frown permanently etched on his face. “I'm telling you now that I'll not tolerate such displays. You will perform as my dutiful wife and from now on, you will control that impulsive behavior.” He ran his hand through his thinning, dark hair; his dark, piercing eyes staring right through her.

  Martha faced him, crying that the doctor was dead and did he not have an ounce of pity. Her stance, hands on hips, was one of defiance. But Jebediah leaned close, his face inches from hers, he shouted at her, “Silence woman, you will speak only when spoken to. I am tired of your constant arguing.” Feeling his spittle on her face, she backed up, her arms moving protectively, hugging tightly to her bosom. He advanced, backing her into the corner. She was frightened for her safety, cowering in the corner of the cabin, she started to tremble. “Starting now you will care for the boys first and go to the sickroom only after they have been tended to. I know you are up to something. I am no fool.” She watched as he clenched and unclenched his fists; the veins on his neck straining as he shouted. “You will speak to no one and you will do as you are told. I suggest you heed my warning.” The look in his eyes turned her blood to ice. Jebediah had never been physically violent towards Martha thus far, but his words were like razors slicing to her very soul. “Your days of fancy dresses and dances are over. You are a soft, pampered, spoiled child. Life will be hard from now on so you had better toughen up.” He glared at her; the look in his eyes could only be described as hateful. “I'm your master and you will do as I say without voicing your objections. From now on you are a simple, obedient wife and step mother.” He took another step towards her, his raised hand balled into a fist. “Do you understand? Do you?” Martha could not reply. Words stuck in her throat as she stared terrified at his fist. She crouched down making her shaking body as small as possible, hands over her head. Her muscles tensed for the blows she expected to fall. “You are a pitiful creature.” With that he marched from the cabin, slamming the door behind him. A terrified, heartsick Martha crumbled to the floor with relief where she stayed until her husband and his sons returned hours later.

  That night Martha cried silently all through the night. She cried for the deceased Dr. Wheeler; she cried for her foiled efforts and most of all, she cried for her desperate inescapable situation. After this evening, she knew that not only her freedom, but also her life, was in jeopardy.

  In the days that followed, the illness seemed to subside and ship life started to return to normal. The weather calmed and the sea was flat and eerie. A thick mist settled over the water giving it a surreal appearance. It was as if the slower ship, now without the wind, was being swallowed by the mist and the sea. Martha filled her days with the endless needs of the children and walked around in an emotionless fog. She thought of writing to Aunt Phoebe for help but knew that there was no way for the letter to be sent until they reached the Americas. It would then be put on another ship and would not arrive in England for another three months. Besides she would be on the other side of the world by then and what could Aunt Phoebe or even her dear friend, Austin do to help her. She now believed escape was impossible. Jebediah had terrified her that night in the cabin. She knew it was only a matter of time before he would resort to violence. Depression and resignation were beginning to take over. The spark in her had been smothered and she was sinking deeper and deeper into darkness. One night as she stared blankly at the endless sea from the deck, she thought she heard her Mother's voice. “Martha, remember the emerald necklace.” Startled, she looked around but found she was alone. She repeated the words over and over in her mind. Remember the emerald necklace. Suddenly the thought dawned, the necklace, the one she had sewn into the hem of one of her gowns just before leaving. Her intention had been to bring just a small memento of her mother. Now, perhaps it was to be her salvation. She silently thanked her Mother for giving her some hope. As she turned to leave, the lifesaver ring, painted with the ship's name hanging from the rail caught her eye. The words ‘The Salvation’ jumped out at her. She smiled.

  Plan in mind, Martha waited until she found just the right seaman, someone who she thought would be reliable. Her energy returned and she focused all of it on her plan. After several conversations and many observations, all out of sight of Jebediah, she made her choice.

  The scenery was never changing with only the occasional ship in the distance and miles and miles of water with little else to focus on. Passengers were growing weary of the never-ending sea. Sensing their boredom and distress, the crew attempted to provide some much needed entertainment. One evening several of the men appeared topside with fiddles, pipes and drums. People danced and sang on deck and the mood was lighter than it had been in weeks. The distraction gave Martha her chance to seek him out. The seaman, Richard, who's handsome but rugged appearance appealed to her, had been considerate and helpful during the epidemic on ship. On the many occasions they had been in the same sickroom, he appeared sincere in caring for the welfare of the passengers. She was beginning to feel confident again. That evening, clean dress, long chestnut hair hanging loose to enhance her appearance; she broached the subject of needing some assistance. Martha was sure to include the fact that she was willing to pay as long as she could trust him completely. Richard observed the shapely, vivacious woman before him hungrily, thinking he would certainly like a night with her. He admired her ample bosom, peeking above the neckline of her bodice. Her waist was narrow and he could only imagine what she would look like without the gown. He agreed to provide whatever assistance she required. Once she was sure he was willing to help her, she produced the necklace. While Richard appraised the shimmering emerald greedily, she offered up a prayer of thanks. In her heart she knew it was her Mother that had given her the idea. Richard, realizing the emerald's value and hoping for more on a personal level, was more than willing and eager to help her and put together a most ingenious plan of escape.

  At the first port, they would meet in the dark of night, just before the ship received permission to dock. Permission could take days because the ship had experienced a mysterious illness and would be kept offshore until granted docking privileges. Richard would take her ashore in the small dinghy and then return to the ship to avoid suspicion. Later that morning he would say that he observed her by the handrail during the night while he prepared the dinghy for fishing. Hopefully this would lead everyone to believe that she had fallen or perhaps jumped, to her death.

  Anticipation filled her days and nights. She didn't see much of Jebediah who spent his time playing cards and conversing with the other men on board. How critical and unfeeling he was; even with his own sons. She would be glad to get as far away from him as possible. The ocean stretched before her. Only the occasional ship could be seen on the vacant sea. Soon they would be close to port and Richard would help her to finally be free. She had only seen Richard a few times, carefully steering clear of him to avoid suspicion. Her only concern was the lecherous look in Richard's eyes every time he looked at her. Hopefully he would be satisfied with the emerald necklace and not expect more than she was prepared to give. Refusing to acknowledge any negative thoughts, she concentrated on her freedom. She could barely contain her excitement. Once she was free, she would hideout on shore and then return to England never to s
ee Jebediah Whittaker again.

  The night of the escape came in a blanket of fog. Darkness descended over the anchored ship and the taste of salt was heavy in the air. As she crept out on the deck, her small bag containing only a few possessions in hand, she took her position behind the post as arranged. She thanked God for bringing this heavy fog to hide her escape. Jebediah and the boys had been sound asleep when she crept from the dark cabin. Martha was to wait until Richard signaled her from the dinghy, then they would lower the boat and escape into the night. She pulled her cloak tightly around her to ward off the damp night air. Her body shivered with anticipation. After what seemed like hours, but was in fact only minutes, a small flicker of light appeared. Her heart was pounding; her palms wet with nervous perspiration. She pulled the cloak over her head and advanced quickly to the small boat that would be her salvation. At last, I will be free, she thought as her feet connected with the wooden deck; each step moving her closer to freedom. Coming from behind, she could see that Richard was swinging the brilliant necklace back and forth. This was no time to be admiring his newfound wealth; perhaps she should not have given it to him until she reached the shore.

  As Richard turned towards her, Martha gasped in horror. There in front of her, holding her mother's necklace was Jebediah Whittaker, looking like the devil himself.

  “Going somewhere, Martha?” he sneered. “You know, when your father agreed to include your hand in marriage for the land that he wanted desperately, he warned me you were high spirited. I'm afraid we'll have to break that spirit, my dear Martha.” she lunged for her mother's necklace, but Jebediah just laughed putting it in his waistcoat. He threw the seaman's hat he had been wearing to the deck. “Come along, Mrs. Whittaker,” he snarled as he roughly gripped her arm and propelled her forward. “There will be no escape for you. You will not embarrass me or cause me any further problems. After this night, Martha, you will know who is in charge here.”

  Four weeks later, Mr. and Mrs. Jebediah Whittaker and the three young Whittaker boys, arrived in the colonies.

  Chapter Three- Dirt, dust and Conestoga Wagons

  The sea voyage had been the worse time of Martha's entire life. She was barely conscious of where she was, having arrived in a crowded city port and immediately loaded on a stagecoach traveling east. Nothing was familiar. The terrain, the people and the weather were all foreign to her. Her life spark had been extinguished, leaving only anger and resentment. Now tired, brow beaten and resigned to her life with Jebediah, she stood looking at what was to be her home for the next few months.

  “All five of us are to live in that wagon, preposterous!” Martha cried out casting her eyes over the wagon that Jebediah was inspecting. “We had better wagons to move our grain in England and you expect me to live in this?” The words were out before she thought about what she was saying, her anger emerging from just below the surface, where it now resided. The other homesteaders stared at her disapprovingly.

  “I have learned to expect nothing from you Martha, but yes, you will live in this wagon with the boys and myself until we arrive in Wyoming territory.” His tone was firm but a smile graced his lips as he looked toward the other homesteaders. It was apparent they sided with him in this family squabble. Entirely for their benefit, he added, “It will be fine, my dear.”

  She saw not much more than a rectangular box with four wheels made of ash, 20 spokes, with a metal outer wheel. The body of the wagon was slightly curved in the center. A stovepipe stuck out of the canvas top leading inside to a small stove that was to provide warmth for the family. The canvas itself was pulled over 7 wooden hoops that would keep out the rain, wind and hot sunshine. It had been rubbed with oil to keep the water out. A pair of malodorous oxen stood in wait, soon to be hitched to this atrocity. Dust swirling around her feet, Martha stood horrified at the thought of having to live in such a confined space, never mind traveling to some unknown barren land. She felt furious but completely helpless.

  Two oaken casks of water hung on the sides of the wagon. The wagon master or captain as they were sometimes called, explained to the men that silver and copper coins would be added to the casks once they were full. As the wagons rolled over the prairies, the water would slosh and move in the casks. This action would release silver ions, which killed bacteria and prevented further growth. The copper coins, which produced copper ions killed and prevented the buildup of algae. In spite of herself, Martha overhearing, found this information fascinating. However she soon responded in her newly acquired abrupt manner, her bitterness apparent to everyone.

  “Wonderful, not only do we have to live like savages, we could be poisoned by our drinking water,” she stated, thinking this was going to make the sea voyage seem like a lark. “You boys come over here and start loading this wagon,” she barked, turning up her nose at the smell of the cattle and horse manure that blanketed the corral floor.

  Seven-year old Abraham and the youngest boy, Ezekiel scurried out of the barn where they had been attentively watching the blacksmith at work. It seemed this was all just a great adventure to them.

  “We have had our riding lessons, Father. The saddle is different from the ones we used back in England but I think Abraham and I are used to them now. Ezekiel will have to ride in the wagon though since his feet will not reach the stirrups.” Isaac the oldest, sullen faced, appeared from the side of the barn leading two large stallions. He spoke directly to his father, ignoring Martha completely.

  “Fine, fine. Now get busy loading this wagon and I'll make arrangements for the cattle. Martha, supervise the boys and wait for me here.” He gave her a look that defied argument. Jebediah moved off towards the cattle drivers to discuss the moving of his herd along with hundreds of others belonging to the rest of the homesteaders. Martha stood by the wagon miserable, dejected and feeling very alone. She surveyed the crowd of homesteaders, thinking to herself that it was quite a diverse mix of nationalities and social classes. There were a dozen or so rugged traders; most of the men were employees of the Hudson Bay Company. Dressed in buckskin and furs, rifles over their shoulders, they reminded her of a portrait she had seen in the gallery at home. Several different languages could be heard mingling through the crowd. She recognized a few of the French phrases but many others eluded her. Although most of the travelers were men, there were several women and children in the group. No one looked her way.

  On a bright and sunny June morning, thirty-five wagons, 140 people, several horses and almost 1000 head of cattle headed west. Martha had neither the strength nor the inclination to resist. The trail used by Indians, missionaries and fur traders would lead them to their new home. Jebediah, stern-faced and determined, was seated up front on the left side of the wagon, Martha and young Ezekiel sat to the right, both staring ahead as if they were heading into the fires of hell. Isaac and Abraham rode along side, anxious for whatever this new adventure would bring.

  Some days the wagon train traveled only ten or fifteen miles. If the weather was bad, even fewer miles were covered. Martha sat in silence, her hurt and anger festering in her heart. Ezekiel, in spite of his age, was aware of the tension in the wagon. He did his best to run off and play at every opportunity. Riding along side, the older boys, like sponges were absorbing information on every inch of rugged landscape and each new task of pioneer life. Jebediah silently plotted his course of action methodically, mile after treacherous mile.

  Martha feeling she had nothing in common with them and sensing their disapproval avoided the other women. Standing a few yards away, she overheard some of the women talking while preparing lunch at one of the wagon train stops. “That one thinks she is better than the rest of us. I don't know where she thinks she is headed but it certainly isn't Buckingham Palace,” the woman shook her head in disgust. She handed the salt pork to Mrs. Brown and walked away. Margaret Brown looked over to Martha, when she realized Martha had overheard, she turned her head in embarrassment. Margaret did not make rash judgments. She empathized with Martha's un
familiarity with her surroundings, since she was feeling it herself. Deciding to take the initiative, she walked over and invited Martha to help her prepare the lunch. Taken aback at the woman's invitation, Martha reacted stiffly, confusion apparent on her face but Margaret was persistent. Nervously Martha stroked her dusty locks, pushing her hair behind her ear. Recovering quickly, the insult echoing in her head, Martha agreed more as a show of defiance, than any recognition of a kindness on Margaret's part. Keeping her attention on the chore at hand, she purposely avoided the stares of the other women. Shrews and commoners, how dare they talk about me like that? Margaret chattered casually and Martha slowly began to relax. She soon began to like this young woman, who like herself was in an alien land. Margaret had come to America from England just as she had. They were close in age and Margaret seemed to understand her distress. This is the first friendly person I have seen in months. Her attitude softened and she watched Margaret chatting, her face animated and happy. This was the first pleasant conversation she had since she left England; she was almost enjoying herself. The rest of the women watched and waited.

  Often when it rained, it seemed to come down in torrents. Wagon wheels stopped turning in the thick mud. People pushed and pulled to free them, muscles straining and mud sticking to their clothing. Instead of relief, the heavy rain represented another trial for this adventuresome group. Sometimes, the rain fell in gentle droplets greeted with appreciation by the homesteaders. Martha was more contented when the rain fell because at least it provided a break from the dust and oppressive heat. She passed the hours with daydreams. How lovely and cool the days in England were. No dust, no oxen, no children, just pretty dresses and tea parties. She envisioned the rose garden at Graystone. It would be in full bloom now, the bushes heavy with the huge fragrant flowers. It all seemed like a long lost dream to her now. Violently shaken from her reverie, Martha felt herself being pitched to the side with great force. She soon realized that the front wheel had come off and grabbing the sleeping Ezekiel as she fell, Martha screamed in fright. Both of them were thrown to the ground as the sound of Jebediah's cursing filled their ears. Unhurt but shaken, Martha stumbled to her feet and with a certain amount of detachment in her eyes, pulled the frightened Ezekiel to her.