River Queen Rose

by Shirley Kennedy

  Steered by Deke and Mitch, a boatload of survivors had pulled ashore. Spying Rose, Deke called, “Good, we’ll need all the blankets we can get.”

  Some of the survivors climbed from the boat on their own, all of them soaking wet and shivering. Rose and others helped them ashore and gave each a blanket. They were the lucky ones. Others had been badly injured, some with broken bones, some with burns. With infinite care, Deke, Mitch, and others lifted and carried them ashore. Just when Rose thought the boat was empty, she saw two unmoving bodies lying on the bottom. “They…they’re dead?”

  Deke nodded grimly. “We pulled them out of the water, but it was too late. Worse thing is, we’ll be going back because there’s more, lots more.”

  A black-robed priest had arrived. Standing on the shore, he made the sign of the cross and implored, “Dear God, please help us on this terrible night.”

  Rose sent up her own silent prayer. Many were badly burned. Many were dead. As the night wore on, Rose learned the ship that exploded and sunk was indeed the Mary Jane. Flames still blazed on the other ship, the Excalibur. It remained afloat but had to be abandoned. She lost track of time as she gave what help she could to victims rescued from the water and brought ashore. Worst of all was the sickening, near-unbelievable sight of the growing row of blanket-covered bodies lined up along the shore, and that included men, women, and children, too. Until now, she’d never seen a dead body before except for funerals and once on the wagon train when a careless young man had accidentally shot himself. She would never forget that ever-lengthening row of the dead, but right now must force herself not to dwell upon it. If she did, she’d fall apart, and that couldn’t happen. She must concentrate on helping the survivors. Only later, and in retrospect, would she ponder upon this heart-rending tragedy and how this night was unlike anything she’d ever lived through before, and, if God had mercy, never would again.

  At least one good thing emerged from the catastrophe. At one point in that long, horrible night, the thought crossed her mind that for once, there were no distinctions of class, gender, race, or anything else. Only one thing mattered: helping the poor souls who came from the stricken ship. Everyone worked together. The Chinese kitchen workers labored alongside hotel owners, miners, and ordinary citizens. Every doctor in town had rushed to the scene to aid the badly burned, the cut and bruised, those with broken limbs. A desperate call went out for morphine, as well as linseed oil and lime-water, termed carron oil, to treat burns. A steady stream of wagons and carriages hauled the most badly injured to Sacramento’s one small hospital, located near Sutter’s Fort. A tent was hastily erected for the rest. Every hotel along the waterfront opened its doors for survivors who had no place to go. During the course of the night, Rose noticed Joy, Evette, Ruby—all the third floor girls—had come to the river. Still in their gaudy dresses, their cheeks rouged, they’d pitched in to help like everyone else. Once, when Rose was lifting a little girl from one of the rescue boats, Cherry, now heavy and awkward, stood beside her, lifting another child. “You shouldn’t be doing that,” Rose said.

  “Oh, yes, I should.” Cherry had tears in her eyes. “These poor people! Seems like this is the least I can do.”

  During the night, Rose threw a blanket over the shoulders of a white-haired, older crewman, one of the relatively uninjured survivors who had stepped ashore from one of the rowboats. “Thank you, ma’am,” he remarked through chattering teeth.

  She asked, “Were you aboard the Mary Jane?”

  “I was the engineer.”

  “Were you really racing?”

  The engineer responded with a bitter laugh. “I told the captain how dangerous it was, but did he listen? He points at the boiler and shouts, ‘Shove it up!’ Wants top speed. Wants to get there first and to hell with all the lives on board. Then the fool tells me to lash an oar to the safety valve so it won’t close.”

  “That doesn’t sound smart.”

  “It sure as hell wasn’t. T’wasn’t long before the whole damn boiler blew and landed us all in the river.”

  Rescuers made trip after trip by boat to the disaster scene. At first, their goal was to find passengers and crewmen who were either treading water or clinging to wreckage and pull them to safety before they drowned. Later on, all those still alive had been rescued, and rescuers were pulling only dead bodies from the river. By then, Rose and Drucilla had moved from the beach to the tent set up for the victims where doctors worked at a frantic pace to aid the injured. Rose did what she could, applying carron oil to burns, fetching water, helping find a lost child. Far into the night—Rose lost all track of time— she was placing a bandage on a little girl’s cut face when Ben appeared, frowning with concern.

  “Ah, Rose, there you are. I’ve been searching all over. Are you and Drucilla all right? We heard the explosion. Coralee was worried and sent me to fetch you home.”

  Rose stood straight and wearily pushed back a wayward strand of hair. “Drucilla’s fine. She’s around somewhere. I can’t go yet. Look around at these poor people. Some are badly hurt. Many are dead. It’s all just so horrible, but I want to stay as long as they need me. Tell Coralee I’ll come home when I can.”

  “Terrible tragedy,” Ben muttered as he looked around the tent. Rose didn’t miss his slight recoil when he caught sight of Tillie, face rouged, fancy coiffeur in ruins, still dressed in her red plumed finery. At the moment, she was comforting a crying child who sat on her lap while a doctor applied a bandage.

  Ben’s lips pressed into a thin, disapproving line. “Is that one of your bawdy girls?”

  Anger swelled within her. At a time like this, how dare he criticize? In fact, why should he criticize at all? She could easily say Tillie wasn’t from the River Queen, but she didn’t feel like lying. Through gritted teeth, she replied, “Yes, that’s one of my bawdy girls. Everyone has pitched in to help, and that includes all the employees of the River Queen.”

  Ben’s cold, hard gaze bored into her. “You gave your word you were going to get rid of them.”

  That’s enough. If ever there was a sign from God, this was it. Something snapped, and the words she’d suppressed up to this moment, came pouring out. “I said I would, but guess what? I’ve changed my mind. I am not getting rid of them, is that clear?” She braced herself for his tirade. Whatever he said would do no good. After the selfless manner in which the ladies from the third floor had conducted themselves tonight, she would not throw them out, no matter how much Ben Peterson disapproved.

  She waited for his rant but it never came. Ben continued with his granite glare until he said in an icy cold voice, “You will live to regret this,” and walked away.

  Drucilla had overheard. “I’m afraid you’re in for it now. Pa’s really mad.”

  “I’ll worry about it later.” Not easy. She’d finally made a stand. There would be consequences, but for the moment, she put all thoughts of Ben out of her head. These poor people needed her help, and her own problems would have to wait.

  Minutes later, Cherry, who’d been working beside her, clutched her stomach and doubled over. “My stars! I think my time has come.”

  No, not now. This couldn’t be happening, but one look at Cherry’s pain-twisted face told Rose that it was. At all costs, she must keep her composure. She worked at keeping her voice calm. “Then you must lie down.” But where? A few cots had been brought to the tent, but they were all taken. Like most of the victims, Cherry would have to lie on the ground with nothing but a blanket to protect her. “At least the doctors are here, so you’ve got plenty of help.”

  Cherry clenched her jaw. “No! I won’t be having this child in front of everybody. I want my own room and my own bed. Oh, what’s that?” A horrified look crossed her face. “I think my water just broke.”

  From her limited experience, Rose was aware that when the mother’s water breaks, the baby could be coming fast. Cherry would be better o
ff staying here, but if she wanted to go home, then by God, home she would go. Looking for help, Rose gazed around the tent. Drucilla, the third-floor girls—everyone was working at a frantic pace, trying to ease the suffering of the poor victims. She would not disturb them, could do this herself. Nothing to it. All she had to do was somehow get Cherry back to her room and then… She wasn’t sure what, but she’d deal with that later. She wrapped an arm around Cherry’s waist. “Come on, I’ll help you home.”

  Cherry was able to walk from the tent on her own, but as they started up the street to the hotel, she called, “Wait!” bent over, and groaned. “There’s another pain. I dunno if I can make it, but I’ve got to.”

  “We’ll stop a minute and rest and then keep on.” Rose kept her voice calm, but panic was building inside her. Cherry was too far gone. She’d never get back on her own. Over the top of Cherry’s head, she peered into the darkness. Somebody—anybody—please, I need help.

  A figure emerged. “Rose, is that you?”

  A miracle! It was Deke.

  “Yes, it’s me.”

  Mitch appeared alongside Deke. They hurried to where Rose was standing over Cherry who had just sunk to the ground. By a sliver of moonlight, Rose looked into their tired, strained faces. They’d been working nonstop and it showed. She stretched out her hand. “Can you help? She has to get home.” Cherry groaned, this time louder. “I mean, right now, this instant! She’s… she’s…”

  “About to have a baby.” Deke took a close look. “Looks like there’s no time to waste. We’ll get her back to the tent and—”

  “No!” Cherry cried. “I don’t care if I have this baby all alone. I want my own room and my own bed. Please, please, get me home.”

  Mitch stepped forward. After a close look at Cherry, he turned to Deke. “Take the boat by yourself. If the little lady wants to go home, I’ll take her.”

  Deke didn’t hesitate. “Rose, Mitch will help. I’ve got to get back. We’re still looking for bodies, and I—”

  “I understand. You need to go.” As Deke disappeared into the darkness, Rose gazed at Mitch with pleading eyes. “Please, if you could just get her to her room?”

  “Don’t worry.” Mitch bent and scooped Cherry into his arms and started up the road. Since he wasn’t a big man, his strength surprised her. He’d picked Cherry up like a feather and was now taking such long, fast strides, Rose could hardly keep up.

  “I’m so grateful,” she remarked as she trotted alongside. “Don’t know what I would have done.”

  “Glad to help,” Mitch replied, not slowing down.

  “We won’t be able to find a doctor. They’re all down here or at the hospital.”

  “No, we won’t.”

  “Maybe I can find a midwife.”

  Cherry moaned aloud. Mitch increased his pace. “By the looks of things, there’s no time to look for a midwife.”

  Rose had to work hard to keep up with him. “But what shall we do?”

  Mitch didn’t answer. They got to the hotel and through the entrance. Rose pointed toward the stairs. “Third floor.”

  As Mitch carried Cherry up the stairs, he spoke again. “Don’t worry, I’ll handle it.”

  Breathless, she struggled to keep up. “You?”

  They got to the third-floor landing before he spoke again, this time to Cherry. “What’s your last name?”

  “I’m Cherry Foley,” she gasped.

  “Back in Australia, I’ve delivered maybe a million lambs, some not so easy, so I know how it’s done.” He looked down the hallway. “Is this where you live, Mrs. Foley? Which is your room?”

  “I’ll show you.” Rose led the way to Cherry’s room and swung the door open. Mitch came through and gently laid his burden on the bed as Rose, drawing a breath of determination, closed the door behind him.

  Chapter 13

  James Alan Foley’s arrival into the world was met with a complication. “It’s a breech birth,” Mitch said after his first look. “His little bum is coming out first.”

  Rose sat at the head of Cherry’s bed, holding her hand, lending encouragement. “That’s nothing serious, is it?”

  “Not to worry. Ewes give breech births all the time.”

  Once, when she was between pains, Cherry called, “What are you doing down there?”

  “Just turning the baby, Mrs. Foley. Don’t you worry. Nothing to it. Lots of lambs come into the world this way.”

  Whatever Mitch did worked fine. The baby literally slipped into the world soon after. He had lots of dark hair and all his fingers and toes. The moment he arrived, he let out a lusty cry and kept on crying. Even though Rose had never assisted in a birth before, she knew enough to clean the baby, wrapped him in a soft blue blanket, and placed him in his mother’s arms.

  Cherry’s first glimpse of her newborn was a joy to see. “My son,” she murmured. With the tenderest of touches, she ran her finger over his forehead, down his nose to his tiny chin. Eyes shining with love, she announced, “He’s perfect.”

  Soon Baby James stopped crying and fell asleep. Exhausted but happy, Cherry gazed up at Mitch, a world of gratitude in her eyes. “You brought my baby into the world, and I’ll always be grateful.”

  “Nothing to it.”

  Rose spoke up. “That’s not so, Mitch. What would we have done without you?”

  “You’d have managed.”

  Cherry soon fell asleep. Mitch sat back and took his first opportunity to look around the tiny room. Since he’d had no time to examine his surroundings, Rose guessed he had no idea where he was. When she opened the door to get some fresh air, his gaze fell upon the fancy sign with the flowers that hung on the door. He looked at Rose. “Why is her name on the door?”

  Rose remained silent. She couldn’t think what to say.

  Mitch took another look at the sign. “Blimey. Is this place what I think it is?”

  Rose remembered Deke telling her about how religious Mitch was. Lived by God’s word. Read his Bible every night. Now that he’d realized what kind of place this was, no doubt he couldn’t get out of here fast enough. She looked into his kind grey eyes. “I’m afraid it’s what you think it is.”

  Mitch looked toward the sleeping new mother. “And she…?”

  “She is.”

  “I see.” Slowly Mitch got to his feet. “I’ll be leaving now. Mrs. Foley will be fine, and the baby, too.”

  She could tell nothing from his blank expression. Well-mannered man that he was, he must be hiding his disgust. “Thanks so much, Mitch.”

  He gave her a quick “You’re welcome” and left. What a shame. She thought back to when Cherry had reached the worst of her labor. Stoic up to then, she’d cried out in pain. Mitch had patted her hand and reassured her. “There, there, little mother, be brave. It’s almost over.” He’d been so kind, so compassionate, that Rose, in what she now saw as a moment of madness, had considered the possibility that here was the perfect solution for Cherry. Mitch would fall in love with her, and she with him. She would keep her baby. They would marry and have a wonderful life.

  Ah, well. Only a fairy tale.

  Tillie poked her head in. She and the other girls had done all they could do for the victims and had finally returned. When Tillie saw Cherry and her newborn, she uttered one of her choice expletives and called, “Girls, come see! She’s popped the baby.”

  Soon the third-floor girls were crowding around Cherry’s bed, waking her up, oohing and ahhing over her newborn. Cherry would be fine and it was time for Rose to leave. She looked through the window and saw dawn was about to break. She’d been up all night, so engrossed in helping the victims, and then Cherry, she’d never given a thought to herself. A tide of weariness engulfed her whole body. As she hurried down the stairs and out to the stable, she shivered with chill and fatigue. Her legs ached. Her eyes felt heavy from lack of
sleep. So much had happened this night. To her dying day, she’d remember all of it, from the horror of the accident to the joy of helping a new baby into this world. She’d think of all that tomorrow, though. All she wanted now was to get home, crawl into bed, and hug her daughter before she fell into a long, deep, merciful sleep.

  To the sound of roosters crowing, Rose drove the buggy down the long driveway that led to the farmhouse. Tired though she was, she would drive around to the back like she always did, unhitch Star, feed and water her, and then—what a joyous thought!—get to bed. But something in front of the house caught her eye.

  What on earth?

  She reined in the horse and stepped to the ground. Some kind of objects were heaped in a pile directly in front of the porch steps. She drew closer. Her dresses! Her shoes, bonnets, pearl reticule—everything she owned lay in a heap before her. What were all her possessions doing out here on the ground? Who would do such a thing? Her stomach clenched tight as she rushed up the front steps. She grasped the doorknob and turned it. The door didn’t open. But it was never locked, and it always opened. She pushed hard. Nothing. The door was barred on the inside. With both fists, she started pounding, she didn’t know how long. She waited. Nothing happened, and she pounded again. At last she heard a noise. Someone was sliding the bar on the inside back. Thank God. Someone had made a mistake. Soon it would be all straightened out and she could get to bed.

  The door opened a crack. Raymond peeked out. “I can’t let you in.”

  She gasped. “What do you mean you can’t let me in?”

  “I just can’t is all.”

  “Raymond, you open the door this minute and talk to me.”

  Her brother-in-law slowly swung open the door. Sleepy eyed, he scratched his head, looking acutely uncomfortable. “Pa’s mad at you. He says to tell you that you don’t live here anymore.”

  This couldn’t be happening. A flood of desperation swept through her, but she would try to stay calm. “What did he say exactly?”