Threads West, an American Saga

by Reid Lance Rosenthal

  One of the other players began to say, “But I have a—” His sentence was broken off by Jacob’s glare. “Anyone else have a problem with me taking my winnings?” Glancing at one another, several men shrugged. No one said a word.

  “Good,” spat Jacob, raking the money, a pocket watch and a silver flask toward him.

  Several of the men stood up, each of them offering a stuttered excuse about some important task. The game was over. Taking another swig of whiskey, he spit part of it on the floor, where it mixed with a dried pool of old vomit. He put his winnings in his change pouch, shoved the pocket watch in his britches and filled the flask he had just won. I need some air.

  Ascending the eight flights up to the forecastle, he walked out on the platform. A very attractive redheaded woman was staring at something down on the main deck. Taking a position behind her, he studied the thin, though shapely figure.

  Licking his lips, he grinned at her back. I’d like to get her below deck for a little fun. The woman was still oblivious to his presence. He walked up quietly behind her until he could almost feel her warmth. She turned, her face reddening apprehensively at his unflinching gaze.

  “You ought not be up here alone,” he said. “I am Jacob O’Shanahan, gentleman and world traveler.”

  “I…I like the sea,” she stammered.

  His gaze roved from her feet to her eyes, lingering around her hips and breasts.

  “I’ll be happy to get to land,” he said. “And you are?”

  “Sarah Bonney.” With a nervous smile, the woman added, “I have to get out of the wind.”

  Taking two steps to the door that led to the interior of the ship, he opened it for her with a mock bow, placing himself so that she would have to pass very close. She hesitated, pivoting her body sideways to squeeze between Jacob and the doorframe, then walked quickly down the gangway.

  CHAPTER 14

  FEBRUARY 27, 1855

  THE REDHEAD

  The following noon, Reuben was again at the rail. Taking a deep breath of the ocean air, he thought of what was to come, the people he might meet and the unknown look and feel of the land toward which fate propelled him. Then there was that woman, Rebecca. Always attired in finery and never missing the chance to make it clear that she was from a class above everyone else.

  Reuben kept his family’s stature to himself, dressing in comfortable clothing with peasant white or light colored garb similar to that of most of the other passengers. His father had sternly advised him to make no demonstration that he was of landed gentry or Jewish.

  Hearing the whisper of footsteps next to him, he turned and was startled by a set of huge blue eyes above a nervous smile on a pretty face. Reuben liked the way sunlight played on the folds of red hair.

  “Do you think we’ll be coming into port soon?” the woman asked, a nervous tremor in her voice. Like his father, Reuben was usually able to size people up instantly. Attractive, strong but a far softer soul than mine…from moderate means, though she tries to project something more than just average with a dress that has been carefully designed and well-stitched.

  Smiling warmly, he introduced himself, “I am Reuben Frank.”

  Returning his smile, her eyes fixed on his lips, she said in a slightly distracted tone, “I know. I’m Sarah Bonney. You are from Prussia?” she asked.

  “Yes, Villmar on the Lahn River.”

  Moving her focus to his eyes, she tilted her head back slightly, “I love the country too but I am from Liverpool.” There was an awkward pause. She stared at him intently.

  Reuben saw Rebecca further down the deck over Sarah’s shoulder, her gaze flickering from Sarah to him. There was a look of aloof superiority on Rebecca’s face each time her attention returned to Sarah. Reuben’s eyes met hers for an instant. She abruptly turned away. There was something in that last glance that Reuben couldn’t quite decipher. Shaking his head, he returned his attention to Sarah. Her concentration on him had obviously ever wavered.

  “Does that mean, ‘No, it won’t be soon?’” She mistook the shake of my head for a negative response to something she had murmured but I missed. Recalling her original question, he laughed, embarrassed.

  “Do you mean, when we’re going to land?” Smiling, the redhead nodded her head, obviously eager to have the conversation back on track.

  “Yes,” Reuben said. “I think we will see the shores of America within a week.” Like an omen, for the first time in over four weeks, they heard a sudden screech in the sky. Looking up, they could see two seagulls circling the masthead.

  *****

  Glowering above on the mizzen deck, Jacob watched them converse, saw the look on Sarah’s face as she gazed up at Reuben and felt a surge of jealous anger. Though he and Reuben had not exchanged a word during the voyage, he had seen Reuben around the ship and instinctively disliked him since their encounter on the gangplank. We are opposites. He kicked the railing, muttering at the two figures below him, “You, Mister Prussian are not quite the immigrant you pretend to be. And you, Miss Sarah Bonney—I am going to have you,” his words were whipped away by the sea breeze.

  CHAPTER 15

  MARCH 2, 1855

  AMERICA

  Waiting in the serving line for lunch, Reuben’s attention was diverted by a palpable murmur of excitement spreading through the ship. People were running down the passageways headed to the deck.

  Grabbing the sleeve of one young boywho hurried past him, he shouted against the hubbub, “What’s going on?”

  “Land!” screamed the lad, scampering off toward the stairway. Throwing his tray down on a table, he sprinted for the stairs. Food could wait. He didn’t want to miss the first glimpse of the continent that would be his new life.

  Jostling and pointing, people crowded the foredecks of the Edinburgh. Far off in the sea haze, above the languid swells, a distinctive mass of land could be seen. AMERICA! Ships were within sight all around them now, some under sail and some belching the black smoke of steam power. A flotilla of three American Navy ships, two ships of the line and a frigate made way in single file for the open sea.

  They were near enough that Reuben could see the sailors scrambling on the decks and gesturing, blue-uniformed officers shouting orders to the crew. He could clearly read the names on the bows. The Frigate was the USS Brandywine. The two ships of the line were the USS Independent and the USS Pennsylvania. The Pennsylvania was enormous. Reuben stopped counting cannons in the four armament decks when he reached one hundred.

  The older man from France, swaddled in threadbare wool coat and with gray stubble after a month in stowage, was standing next to Reuben.

  “Vive L’Amérique! Oui?

  “Yes,” Reuben replied in halting French. “It is grand!” Smiling broadly, the old man unexpectedly kissed him on both cheeks.

  Rebecca appeared in a doorway to the side of the excited crowd. She turned, smiling brightly in his direction, and then suddenly vanished into the throng. Reuben was stunned. For a moment, it was as if there was no one else on the deck, the friendly push and shove of hundreds of others unnoticed. He was snapped back by a soft, warm hand on his.

  “Isn’t it wonderful, Reuben?” breathed Sarah.

  “It is far more than that, Sarah. It is the future!”

  Standing on the deck together, they watched the scene below. Tugs were pulling aside the SS Edinburgh. Luggage was being offloaded to be transported to Castle Garden. Ships polka-dotted the glassy waters of the harbor. Several other sailing vessels were also disembarking.

  The seamen gathered everyone on deck as the medical officers came aboard to inspect each of them before being transported to quarantine. Captain Kennedy stood at the forecastle waiting for the gangplank to be lowered. He was a large man with a rough beard and kind eyes. Reuben had liked him since they met. The captain was always accompanied by his huge Newfoundland dog, Sam. Legend had it that Sam had rescued fifteen passengers from frigid waters a few years previously when the sea master’s last comm
and was the first rescue ship to arrive at the sinking SS Scotland.

  With quick understanding, Reuben watched the captain gesturing frantically to some crew. Emigrant ship captains often accepted passengers above the limits set by European laws regarding the numbers a sailing ship was allowed to carry. This led to excessive deaths on board due to overcrowding, disease and starvation. Many passages on older vessels lasted six to eight weeks. It was fortunate that this voyage had taken only five weeks in a new ship, particularly for those in steerage, a miserable place with wooden plank pallets covered in straw, and the stench of seasickness and unwashed bodies in the small spaces that sloshed with vomit mixed with seawater and urine.

  Only a few unfortunate souls had died on the voyage. The captain kept record of each. Names, ages, occupations, country of origin and expected destination were duly listed on the manifest.

  One family, the Callahans, had endured a string of tragedies on the Edinburgh. Cathy Callahan had watched helplessly as her husband and all six of her children had died from fever. Cathy had nobody left. Reuben had attended the shipboard funerals, trying to comprehend what it would be like to lose a child, feeling gut wrenching empathy for the inconsolable mother as the last of her children was given a fathomless grave in an unforgiving sea, wrapped in a cold, canvas, winding-sheet.

  “Look, Reuben! There’s Castle Garden!” Sarah exclaimed, bringing him back to the present. She was pointing to a large round building with wings to either side. “Did you know that Castle Garden used to be a fort? It was originally constructed as a twenty-eight gun Southwest Battery and was abandoned as a fort in 1821, then deeded to the city of New York. Captain Kennedy told me.”

  Laughing at her earnest recitation, he looked over her head for Johannes but couldn’t find him in the flow of the crowd. He caught another glimpse of Rebecca, followed by a number of crew who were struggling with her vast array of luggage. Turning to Sarah, he lightly touched her arm. Looking into his eyes, her lips parted slightly and Reuben thought he noticed a flush creep up her throat, the freckles scattered across the bridge of her nose becoming more pronounced.

  “I hear they separate the men and women at this point for immigration and medical check. I am going to go find Johannes, get our bags and get off the ship,” he said. “Do you need assistance?”

  “No, Reuben; I can manage.”

  He turned to go but she caught his elbow. “I’m so glad we sailed into America together.”

  Nodding agreement, he walked away, looking back over his shoulder once. Sarah stood watching him, her eyes blinking rapidly.

  CHAPTER 16

  MARCH 2, 1855

  CASTLE GARDEN

  The balance of luggage and cargo was taken from the hold while Sarah’s satchel and the hand baggage of other passengers were being inspected by customs officers. She was helped onto a large barge for landing at the pier where passengers were inspected by a medical officer as each disembarked from the makeshift ferry.

  The Edinburgh passengers, along with immigrants from other ships, were directed to the main depot. The central rotunda was large and circular. There, the milling throng was divided into English-speaking and non-English-speaking sides of the room. It took most of the rest of the day before the requisite immigration steps were completed by government officials. Each person had to register, giving an intended destination and a contact name in America.

  Immigrants could purchase train tickets directly from railroad representatives, and currency exchange was also available. Sarah had sent most of her money ahead to Aunt Stella but she wanted to convert what she carried into U.S. currency. Seizing an opportunity to slip into the bathroom, she furtively opened her satchel’s secret compartment in a private stall, taking out the English funds. Then she went to one of the Currency Exchange Broker’s windows.

  She felt a light touch on her shoulder, which lingered a bit too long.

  “Perhaps I could assist you with the exchange transaction,” suggested a man behind her.

  Recognizing Jacob’s voice immediately, she willed herself not to turn around. The less he knows about me and my funds, the better.

  “Yes, will you be exchanging too?” she asked in an even tone, attempting to mask her feeling of discomfort. He has obviously searched for me in this crowded depot.

  Shaking the money pouch in his pocket so that his coins jingled. “No, I like metal.” Becoming officious, he smiled slyly. “I would be pleased to assist you, Sarah. You don’t want to be cheated by these money brokers.”

  She suddenly had a hunch. “How kind of you to offer,” she said in a soft voice. “Here is the paperwork, Jacob. Would you review it for me?”

  Furrowing his brow, he undertook a clearly pretended glance at the papers still in Sarah’s hand, finally muttering, “Looks fine. Just fine. I need to find a water closet—drank too much water. Excuse me.” Sarah felt a grim satisfaction. Jacob did not know how to read.

  “Surprising,” came the smooth, sarcastic voice behind her. It was Rebecca, dressed, as always, more appropriately for a formal ball than the activity at hand.

  “You are surprised that he cannot read?” Sarah asked.

  “No. I am astounded you handled the situation with such alacrity.” Rebecca’s voice was like cold silk.

  Rebecca had not spoken a single word to Sarah during the voyage, though they had made eye contact several times. On each occasion, Rebecca had looked quickly and aloofly away, as if unwilling to acknowledge Sarah’s existence.

  Sarah felt her teeth clenching. Counting to five, as her mother had taught her, she decided not to respond except for a slight nod of her head. Pivoting abruptly, and without a backward glance, Rebecca walked to the next exchange window.

  Finished with the transaction, Sarah sat down on a stiff wooden bench, clutching her satchel tightly in front of her. Muffled conversation ebbed and flowed all around her. She absently watched lines of immigrants, some with wailing children, taking drinks from the iron ladles at the water taps on either end of the large room. Other people, many of whom appeared gaunt and pale, were patiently standing in groups at the tables where rolls, cheese, butter and small cups of coffee were available for fifteen cents.

  Closing her eyes, she let her mind drift to Aunt Stella. Her mother’s sister, her mother and she bore a remarkable physical resemblance to one another. Aunt Stella had traveled to America ten years earlier while in her early thirties. She was now a widow. Her husband, a gentle, well-educated man, had died soon after their arrival in New York from fever contracted during the passage. Sarah was looking forward to seeing her aunt’s shop and the new treadle sewing machine Aunt Stella had written about so often. From what Sarah could glean of the transoceanic correspondence, which took months to arrive, the Singers—just invented in 1851—were increasing production two-fold.

  The group of women and children were beginning to grow impatient. Finally, an official shouted above the commotion. “All right, listen up. Except for the names I call, the rest of you are clear to head over the timbered drawbridge behind me to the dock.” Swinging his shoulder, he pointed to the span that stretched several hundred feet over the slightly roiled, filthy waters of the harbor. “These men to my right will move your trunks for five cents per item, if you wish.”

  Sarah was pleased at the immigration officer’s announcement. That is a splendid idea. I will not have to soil my travelling dress or struggle with my larger baggage. Digging in her purse for a U.S. silver half dime, she made the arrangements and then, excited to get her first glance of the city, joined the crowd of people trudging across the wooden link between Castle Garden and Manhattan. Looking uneasily behind her, she was relieved to see no sign of Jacob. Good, I’ve lost him.

  Catching a glimpse of Reuben on the docks, her heart did a strange lurch. She started to make her way toward him in the crowd.

  *****

  Reuben lowered the long canvas duffel from his shoulder, carefully setting down his father’s leather map case. Lowering the
one side of the trunk he had dragged, he stopped, taking in the scene. Next to him, Johannes did the same. Even in these first few seconds, he sensed a current of life that no longer flowed in Europe. As he spotted Sarah working her way toward him on the dock, he felt a presence behind him. Turning, he was startled to see Rebecca planted squarely in front of him. Over her shoulder, Johannes was smirking. Cocking her head coquettishly, her eyes looked directly into his. She pushed her breasts out with a look of combined amusement and challenge, a slight flush coloring her cheeks. He felt his loins stirring.

  “Your name is Reuben Frank, is it not? I’m Rebecca Marx but I’m sure you know that. Could I ask you to help me with my baggage or are you waiting for that redhead?” Rebecca’s eyes flickered toward Sarah, still some distance away in the mill of people.

  Reuben held her stare. There was a very long moment of silence during which the color in Rebecca’s face deepened.

  “I would be delighted to assist you. Where are they, and where do you need them to go?”

  “Johannes, would you stay with our duffels? I will be back quickly.” She has not acknowledged that Johannes exists.

  *****

  Caught in the surge of bodies clogging the wharf, Sarah saw Rebecca approach Reuben, watched him turn and the two of them begin to converse. Sensing a connection between them, she stood stock still, occasionally bumped by another passenger in the moving throng. Her eyes slightly misty, she turned away, and took a half step, walking into Jacob’s barrel chest.

  Surprised, she tried backing away but the crush of the crowd hampered her, and suddenly, Jacob’s arms, held her close. Her breasts were pressing firmly against the lower part of his upper torso. Jacob looked at her intently. “Where are you going?”