Garth rose to greet her. “I’m pleased to see you up. You’re feeling better?”
“I still feel dreadful. You never told me we’d get a storm like this.” She glared at Garth, as if she held him personally responsible.
He gave a casual shrug. “I can’t control the weather, Honoria.” He nodded toward Letty. “May I present Miss Leticia Tinsley? Miss Tinsley, this is Mrs. Honoria Leffington, an old friend whom I’m escorting to San Francisco so she can join her husband.”
What a smooth introduction. This man certainly knew his proper etiquette. Casting the blanket aside, Letty struggled to her feet. She might dislike this woman, but good manners came first. She held out her hand. “I’m pleased to meet you.”
Honoria stood frozen. She did not extend her hand. “Aren’t you from steerage?”
Before Letty could answer, Garth spoke up. “It doesn’t matter where she’s from.”
Honoria glared at him, bristling with indignation. “I’m surprised at you. Have you lost your standards? What next? Will you invite them all up for dinner?” Nose in the air, she spun around and walked away.
Garth looked after her, shaking his head. “Sorry about that, Miss Tinsley. Honoria can be—”
“Rude?” Letty felt her face heating. Thoughts of last night’s humiliation came flooding back. What was she doing here? Why was she being nice to a man who could very well have stolen from her brother? “Thank you, Mr. Morgan. You’ve been very kind, but I must go now.” She started away.
“Wait,” he called after her.
“I don’t belong here,” she called over her shoulder, not slowing her pace. She could hardly wait to get back to steerage, foul-smelling air and all. The storm had died down. Maybe they’d opened the portholes by now.
* * * *
That evening, the sea was like glass again. Most of the first-class passengers had not only recovered, they had gathered in the dining room for dinner. Garth sat at a round table for eight, maintaining a pleasant expression while keeping a tight lid on his irritation. Honoria sat across. As usual, she was babbling on and on. If she wasn’t talking about herself, she was finding fault with something or someone. Well, what else had he expected? Ordinarily he could shut her out completely, think of other things. After all, this was only temporary. When they reached San Francisco, he’d hand her over to her husband and never see her again. Up to now, that beautiful thought had bolstered his flagging patience. Not tonight, though. Would the insufferable woman never shut up?
He kept seeing the look on Letty’s face when Honoria wouldn’t shake her hand, then delivered her snobby insult. Aren’t you from steerage? Stupid woman. Miss Leticia Tinsley might be booked in steerage, but she had more brains in her little finger than Honoria had in her whole body. More character, too. More everything, besides being one of the most beautiful women he’d ever met.
“Are you done, sir?” Arm out, Purvis was poised to remove Garth’s plate.
“Yes, done.” He hadn’t finished his beef à la jardinière, but he didn’t care. Why couldn’t he stop thinking about her? Was she all right down there in stinking steerage? He hoped they’d opened the portholes by now. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a woman on his mind like this. Actually, had he ever? He must stop thinking about her.
“Garth, are you all right?” Honoria was looking at him.
“I’m fine. Why do you ask?”
“You look as if you’re a million miles away.”
He managed a tight smile. “I’m right here, Honoria.” He arose from the table. “If you’ll excuse me, I need some fresh air.”
She frowned up at him. “Must you?”
No doubt she expected him to give her his exclusive attention for the rest of the evening, but tonight that wasn’t going to happen. “I must, Honoria.”
Alone on the deck, he stood by the railing looking out on the tranquil sea, illuminated by a full moon above. Letty. What a sad-looking mess she was when he first found her draped across the railing moaning, vomiting, wishing she was dead. But what a charming mess. And brave, embarking on this horrendous journey so she could find out what happened to her brother. Poor Charles. Little chance he’d ever be found, but she’d have to find that out for herself.
Chapter 7
When Letty returned to steerage, she found conditions much improved. They’d opened the portholes. She could breathe without wanting to retch. Almost everyone was feeling better. Relieved voices greeted her when she walked in.
“Are you all right?”
“We were worried about you.”
Only days ago, these women were strangers with nothing in common. Now they seemed like old friends, and their welcoming greetings warmed her heart. Betsey sat at the table. She nodded toward Letty’s bunk where Elfreda was sitting. “All of us are feeling better except your servant. She doesn’t look well.”
Letty looked toward Elfreda. She was sitting on the lower bunk with one hand clutching the rough wooden post, jaw clenched, eyes staring straight ahead. Letty hastened to sit beside her. “What is it, Elfreda? Are you still seasick?”
The black woman didn’t move.
“Please, what’s wrong? Answer me.”
She continued pleading until finally Elfreda slowly turned to face her. “It’s nothing you’d be interested in.”
“Try me.”
No response. Letty said nothing more but waited patiently until finally her servant spoke again. “I’ve got bad memories.”
“Of what?”
“This isn’t my first time on a ship.”
“Really? You’ve been a passenger before?”
Elfreda broke into a bitter laugh. “If you want to call it that. I came over on a slave ship, Miss Letty. I was a passenger all right, in chains and kept in a pen.”
Letty’s hand flew to her chest. “That’s…that’s… I had no idea. Father never said.”
“So here I am on a ship again.” Elfreda’s voice hardened. “It all comes back, all the horrors.”
Letty remembered her history. “But wasn’t the slave trade outlawed many years ago? In eighteen hundred and seven, wasn’t it? I thought we didn’t have slave ships anymore.”
Elfreda gave a contemptuous sniff. “Do you really think those greedy men stopped because the law told them to? The slave trade went on for years. In 1835 I came over on a ship called the Clotilde. I was only sixteen, chained all the way and nearly starved. We landed in Mobile, Alabama, where I was sold to a plantation owner.” She stared at Letty with outraged eyes. “How would you like to be paraded around naked and bid on by a bunch of leering men?”
“That’s…that’s dreadful.” What else could she say? She’d known Elfreda was a former slave but had never heard the details, nor, come to think of it, had she ever wanted to hear the details. In fact, to her shame, she hadn’t thought about the horrors of slavery at all. “Father never told us anything when you arrived.”
Elfreda’s stern expression softened. “Your father was a good man. He risked his life to save me and other slaves who’d escaped. I’ll always be grateful.”
“But you’ve never cared much for the rest of the family, have you?”
“No.”
Elfreda’s blunt answer came as no great surprise. “That includes me.”
“Yes, it does. You’re just another selfish white woman. You don’t know what goes on in the real world, and you don’t want to know.”
“Then why did you come with me on this journey? You didn’t have to. Molly refused, and we didn’t sack her.”
“Don’t think I did it for you. You were too busy with your tea parties and fancy clothes to notice we got the Fugitive Slave Law.”
“Of course, I noticed. It’s a law congress passed. It requires the return of runaway slaves to their owners. Oh…” Letty put a hand over her mouth. “I see now. You were afraid—”
“That I’d get sent back to the plantation where the owner could whip
me and…other things too awful for your delicate ears to hear.”
The sarcasm in Elfreda’s voice was unmistakable. “I understand now. I only hope—”
“That I’ll do my duty? Of course I will. Haven’t I always done my job?” Elfreda cast a scornful glance. “But I don’t have to like you, now do I?”
“No, you don’t.”
“Then we understand each other.” Elfreda wearily pushed herself off the bunk and got the ladder they used for the upper bunks. “I’m going to bed now.”
The poor woman. Obviously she still wasn’t feeling well. “Would you like to switch bunks, Elfreda? I could take the upper and you—”
“Don’t bother. I know my place.” Elfreda climbed slowly to the bunk, lay down and turned her face to the wall.
Letty could say nothing more. Maybe she should be offended, but she wasn’t. What could she do? She’d always prided herself on her ability to cope with whatever situation came along, but what do you do when your maid says she doesn’t like you?
But Elfreda was only a servant, so why should she care?
Funny, but she did care, very much so.
During the following days, Letty grew accustomed to the monotonous routine of shipboard living. Thank goodness, the sea remained calm, so no one was seasick. She got so familiar to the thump-thump of the paddlewheels, she hardly heard them. The quality of the food grew steadily worse, just as everyone predicted, until it consisted mainly of putrid jerked beef, musty rice, miserable tea, mealy potatoes, and a horrible concoction called “duff.”
“Duff’s not so bad,” Freddy explained the first time he brought it. “Cook takes some dough mixed with salt water and pork fat, throws in some raisins or sugar or meat, ties the whole thing in a bag and boils it for four or five hours. It’s supposed to be light and springy.”
It wasn’t. Letty couldn’t choke down the soggy, leaden mess and often left the table hungry. She treasured their one hour on deck each morning and afternoon when they could escape from the stifling atmosphere of their cabin, breathe fresh air, marvel at the sight of flying fish and other sea creatures she’d never seen before. Steerage class had the deck mostly to themselves. First class passengers weren’t forbidden from using the deck at that time, but few did.
“The snobs don’t want to get anywhere near us,” Betsey remarked one afternoon while the women from steerage were enjoying their hour of sunshine.
No doubt she was right. Letty had never given much thought to her station in life or what class she belonged to, and resented being judged by the cost of her passage. Her bunkmates didn’t seem to mind. Poor to begin with, they were accustomed to the snubs and shabby treatment. One good thing: she had not seen Garth Morgan since her bout of seasickness when his good friend, the horrible Honoria Leffington, had insulted her. Fine. With any luck, she wouldn’t see either one of them for the rest of the journey. She couldn’t quite forget about him, though.
There were times she caught herself remembering how wonderfully kind and thoughtful he’d been when she was seasick. His image stuck firmly embedded in her mind: those great wide shoulders, the way he moved with the ease of a jungle cat stalking its prey, the way his silky, black hair curled carelessly over his collar. Her pulse quickened at the thought of him, even though she wished it wouldn’t. She absolutely must stop thinking about him. He and stuck-up Honoria weren’t part of her world and never would be. She wasn’t sure what would happen when they reached Chagres, but she would definitely avoid them both.
On the fourth day after her bout of seasickness, Letty was standing on deck when she got the feeling someone was staring at her. She turned to look, not seeing who it was until she looked up to the bridge in front of the wheelhouse. There stood the captain and Garth Morgan beside him, his gaze upon her. When she caught his eye, he made no pretense of looking away but instead smiled and locked his gaze with hers. His was a friendly, how-are-you-doing kind of gaze, so compelling that despite herself, she couldn’t look away. He nodded and raised a hand in salute. She nodded back, then forced herself to look toward the sea. So he hadn’t forgotten her. A warm glow flowed through her, and she almost turned back for another look but caught herself in time. What was she doing? Why should she be grateful that a man like Garth Morgan paid her some attention? He was a man to stay away from, and by God, she would.
Five days later, just as Letty and everyone else in steerage weren’t sure they could endure another day of horrible food and stifling air, the Mirabello reached its destination. Passengers crowded on deck, steerage included, to watch as the ship sailed into the bay at Chagres. With Elfreda on one side, Betsey the other, Letty stood at the railing, fascinated by her first glimpse of Panama. The small town of Chagres sat at the edge of a bay surrounded by rolling hills covered with a thick growth of palm trees and jungle foliage. Grass huts with palm frond roofs dotted the hillsides. The ruins of an ancient fort sat on a cliff overlooking the water.
“How beautiful!” Betsey cried to no one in particular.
Letty didn’t think so. Chagres looked like a wretched place, made up of shoddy shacks and lean-tos. She sniffed the heavy, humid air and was met with a festering swamp stench that consisted of decaying vegetation and things that were dead. “Take a deep breath, Betsey. When you get a good whiff of that jungle, you won’t think it’s so beautiful.”
Her always-cheerful friend breathed deep and made a face. “Lord have mercy, it’s worse than steerage.”
Letty smiled. “We’re a long way from Boston.”
Elfreda slanted a what-have-you-got-us-into glance in Letty’s direction. “You are so right,” she muttered and clamped her mouth shut.
Letty knew exactly what Elfreda meant. At this moment, she was thinking the same. Why on earth had she come on this journey? Oh, yes, Charles. She had to come, but just looking at that ominous, solid green wall of jungle made her stomach knot. What had she gotten herself and poor Elfreda into?
Betsey nudged her in the side, pointed and whispered, “Have you ever? Take a look at that outfit.”
Looking the height of fashion, Honoria Leffington had just appeared on deck wearing a cotton batiste day gown of periwinkle blue and long white gloves. Letty had never seen a more ridiculous hat than the straw monstrosity with the oversized purple bow and huge wide brim that sat on her head. Altogether, she looked like she was going to a fancy afternoon tea, not about to embark on a hazardous trek through the jungle.
Honoria caught sight of Mary and frowned. “So there you are. Come along. We’ll be getting off soon, and I want your help.”
Mary hurried off with her employer, waving a hurried good-bye to her friends. Soon the Mirabello docked, the paddlewheels silent at last. Steerage passengers collected their belongings and had to wait on the deck until all first- and second-class passengers had disembarked. When Letty and Elfreda, both hauling luggage, finally edged down the gangplank, they were met with chaos on the pier. Passengers, crewmen and dockworkers milled about. Shouting, brown-skinned natives appeared to be offering their boats for hire.
The minute Letty stepped ashore, a crowd of boatmen besieged her, each offering the best, cheapest way to travel upriver to Gorgona, the town halfway across the Isthmus. The crush of demanding boatmen grew nearly overwhelming.
“Forty dollars,” yelled one who practically got in her face.
“Fifty for the best ride,” yelled another.
Would they please back up and stop shouting? She couldn’t think what to do.
Garth Morgan approached. Dressed in a white cotton shirt, khaki trousers, and broad-brimmed straw hat, he looked far more appropriately dressed for the jungle than Honoria. He swept his hat off and asked, “Can I assist you, Miss Tinsley?”
What a relief, even if she didn’t like him. “It appears I must select a boat for our passage upriver, and I don’t know—”
“Let me help.” Garth stepped in front of her. “Back off,” he yelled to the swarm of boatmen. They imm
ediately did so. His commanding voice would intimidate anyone. He turned back to her. “These natives are offering a ride in a dug-out canoe. You don’t want to go that way. Why not come with me? We’re going by a flat-bottomed boat. It’s safer and more comfortable.”
“And more expensive?”
“Yes, but I can arrange—”
“Thank you, but no.” She might need help, but she wasn’t going to obligate herself to the likes of Garth Morgan.
He shrugged regretfully. “All right, I won’t argue with you, but will you at least allow me to find you a reliable boatman? I don’t mean to frighten you, but some of these rascals aren’t interested in your welfare. There are some who will capsize your boat on purpose, let you drown and then help themselves to your possessions. If you don’t drown, they stab or shoot you.” He frowned. “You really should come with us on the flat boat.”
How frightening. Part of her wanted to say yes. If she placed herself in the care of this powerful man, she’d be safe and secure, taken care of, her fate out of her hands. She’d be a weakling if she did, though. How could she value her comfort and safety higher than her concerns he’d stolen from her brother? That settled it. She could manage on her own. Despite his frightful warnings, she gave him a confident smile. “I shall go by dugout canoe, Mr. Morgan, thank you just the same.”
If he was surprised, he didn’t let on. “Wait here.” He left and returned shortly, followed by a dark-skinned boatman. “This is Ramiro. I’ve used him before. He’s a good man.”
Before Letty could speak, Honoria appeared. Seeing Letty, she scowled. “Really, Garth, the steerage girl again?”
Not bothering to look in her direction, Garth replied, “I’ll be with you in a minute, Honoria.”
The haughty woman bristled. “I need you. Why are you standing there?”
Gold Rush Bride Page 7
