by Debra Samms
Finally, as the women stared back at him, Peter managed to find his voice. "Are you all here – to go to Sawyerville?"
"We sure are," said the first one. "All of us. It sounds like our kind of place."
CHAPTER SIX
The woman in front of the table was as tall as any man, and just as lanky. Her face was pale and her eyes a dull grey. When she spoke, Peter saw that she had at least one broken tooth at the front of her mouth.
The other four women were, by turns, short, heavy, and dull. All had a mean and suspicious look in their small eyes, and they stood and stared at Peter and Ezekiel with their arms folded and an air of cold expectation about them.
"Well?" said the tall one, leaning forward with her hands on her thin hips. "Are you taking brides to sign up, or not?"
"Uh – well," said Peter, looking up at her and struggling to get his wits together. Finally he lay down his pen and stood up. "You see, ladies – "
"My name's Maeve," said the first one, still glaring down at him even though he was now standing up. "Maeve Harrison. These here are Hattie, Eulalie, Ruby, and Jemima."
"I see. Well, the truth is – as I was about to tell you – "
"The truth is, we've already got enough women," said Ezekiel, quickly. "All of the spaces are signed for. There's no more money for passage. But thank you for coming in."
Maeve turned her cold stare on him, as did the other four. "Not so fast. You don't think all those little hothouse violets that came in here tonight will really show up, do you? Or stay out there in that logging camp even if they do."
"Look, mister," said one of the short and heavy ones – Hattie, that was her name. "We know what we look like. We ain't trying to hide it."
"We know we've got hardly any chance of getting a decent man out here," said Eulalie.
"But we don't want to work at the mill until we die from it," said Ruby.
"We want husbands and families, too, same as anybody else," added Jemima.
"And you won't find any women more suited to life in the frontier than we are," finished Maeve. "We aren't city girls. We're working in the mill right now but we grew up on farms out in the hills, with guns and axes in our hands practically from the day we were born. We can pull our own weight and then some. We're exactly what those men out there need. And you know it just as well as we do."
Peter glanced over at his friend, who looked sideways at him in return but kept silent. "All right, then, Miss – Miss Harrison. You and your friends can go to Sawyerville as brides."
The five women all looked at each other and grinned, revealing more crooked smiles and broken teeth.
"But like Ezekiel told you, we're full up. That means there's no more money for train or steamship tickets. You'd have to pay your own passage."
"Very good. Pay it we will," said Maeve, and with that all five of them turned around and started down the aisle towards the door. "And then we'll see you in Sawyerville."
***
A few days later, late in the afternoon, Maeve Harrison, along with her friends Hattie, Eulalie, Ruby, and Jemima, were down on the docks in New York City. They were going from ship to ship and looking for passage to San Francisco at a price they could afford, but so far had found nothing.
"Railroad would only take eight weeks from here to San Francisco, but they want two hundred dollars each," said Jemima.
"And that only includes one meal per day and no sleeping car," said Ruby.
"Steamship was even more than that and would take ten weeks," added Eulalie. "Down to Panama, a train across, and another ship up the coast."
"Unless we can find some way to get there for a hundred apiece," said Hattie, "we've got nothing to look forward to except going back to the Merrimack Mills for the rest of our lives."
"There's got to be something," said Maeve, standing tall and looking down the dock. "And we're going find it. I won't set foot in that mill again. I won't. I can't." The rest of them nodded and murmured in agreement.
Finally, down at the far end of the dock in the very last slip, Maeve saw two men leave their vessel and step onto the pier in the golden light of the setting sun. "This way," she said, and the four other girls followed her.
The last ship was unlike the others nearby. Those were large sidewheel steamships, capable of navigating the oceans without being dependent on the capricious winds. This one was smaller, had only sails, and was of an old design.
"That's an old clipper," said Maeve. "I've seen a few paintings. Didn't think there were many left."
"Well, this one doesn't look so good," said Hattie. "Looks terribly old. Creaky. Covered with slime."
"The sails look half rotted," said Ruby. "Maybe it's here for repair."
The two men who'd left the ship walked by them. "Can you tell us what ship this is?" asked Maeve.
The taller of the two men – who, Maeve saw, had a piercing gaze and what seemed to be a permanent scowl on his face – peered out at her. "That's the Sea Spirit," he said, in a growling voice. "And she's about to make her last voyage. Say farewell to her while ye still can."
"Last voyage?" Maeve asked. "Why is it the last one?"
"Huh. Look around you. It's all filthy coal-fired steam power now. The Sea Spirit used to be the fastest ship on any ocean, and she needed only the fresh breeze to drive her. Ten times around the Horn she went, safe and sound. But no use for her now."
"You said this was her last voyage," said Jemima. "Where's she going?"
The old man slowly straightened up, and peered out across the harbor, and then looked at his ship again. "I don't know," he said, after a moment. "I just mean to take her out and let her sink somewhere, nice and peaceful. She'll die and I'll die with her, at sea, the way a man should."
Jemima raised an eyebrow at that, and they all looked at each other – all except Maeve, who leaned in beside the man.
"So, I take it you're her captain."
"Aye. Captain Hugh Carver, late of Boston, Massachusetts. This man is my first mate and steward, Arthur."
Arthur touched his cap, but remained silent.
"Since you say it doesn't matter where you go," Maeve said, "what about taking the five of us to San Francisco? We could pay a hundred apiece."
"A hundred apiece? For passage to San Francisco? On the Sea Spirit?" Captain Carver looked at the man beside him, who silently stared back, and then he looked at Maeve again. "Be here at dawn, day after tomorrow. I'll have to get provisions. We leave with the tide."
CHAPTER SEVEN
Two days later, at the break of dawn, Maeve, Hattie, Ruby, Eulalie, and Jemima walked down to the New York docks once again. This time they'd brought worn leather bags and a couple of weatherbeaten trunks with them. The five women dropped the trunks and bags onto the dock near the gangplank and stood waiting for the captain to meet them.
They all took another good long look at their prospective ship, even as several men worked topside to get her ready for the voyage. The SS Sea Spirit was about eighty feet long with three tall masts. It looked as though the old ragged sails had been taken down and newer, heavy sails had been put into place. At the moment the sails hung in huge rolls from the top of the masts, lashed with thick ropes.
She had probably once been an elegant ship, but these days her black hull was greenish, slime-covered, sun-blistered, and worn. There was a flaking, grey-white horizontal stripe painted halfway down on the hull from bow to stern, possibly to make her a little easier to see out on the open water.
Ruby frowned as she studied the ship. "Are those gun ports in that white line? Is this boat carrying cannon in the hold?"
Maeve walked closer to get a better look – and then she straightened up and grinned. "Paint," she said. "It's nothing but black paint in the shape of gun ports. Might fool someone who didn't get too close."
Before long, the ancient, grizzled Captain Carver and his short little first mate emerged from the ship, walked down the gangplank, and then went striding across the dock to their five pa
ssengers.
"I see you showed up," said the captain.
Maeve drew herself up. "Of course we did. We've got to get to San Francisco. You still going?"
This time, the captain stood a little taller and looked him in the eye. "Of course I am. I've got to sink my ship."
"Ah – so you do," said Maeve. "I recall you saying something about that yesterday. You're, ah – " She leaned in a little closer to him. "You're going to wait until after you leave us in San Francisco to sink it, though, aren't you?"
He seemed baffled. "Did you bring the payment for your passage?"
"Yes. I did." Maeve pulled out a little drawstring bag. "I have it for all of us."
Carefully she counted out five hundred dollars into Captain Carver's hand, and then waited patiently while he counted it again. "I won't sink the ship until after I've delivered her cargo. Which, in this case, is the five of you." He folded up the money and tucked it into his inside coat pocket. "Go on and board the ship. It's nearly time to get underway."
"Tide in fifteen minutes," called Arthur, the first mate, from the deck just above them.
"All aboard, then!" shouted the captain. "Get your things below."
The five women picked up their bags and trunks and carried them up the gangplank to the deck of the ship, where several of her crew began to climb up the masts to the very top.
"Plenty of room up here, now, on this deck," said Captain Carver. "The Sea Spirit was bred to be a whaler, but no more. She's been cast aside in favor of the steamships. See the brick furnace, there, just behind the foremast? That was used for boiling down the whale oil. No need for that now. But you can still cook on it. I've laid in a stack of wood to fire it."
The women nodded as they walked across the deck. "At least we might be able to make some hot food, or even tea," said Eulalie, and the rest agreed.
"And you can see where the whaleboats used to hang on the port side and on the starboard side," the captain said, waving his arm towards the big heavy posts set into the rail. "No more need for them, so they're gone, too. It does leave plenty of open space up here. A clean ship. Clean deck."
Glancing around, Maeve wasn't sure 'clean' was the word for it, but she went on listening to the captain.
"When she was in service after whales, the Sea Spirit would have as many as thirty-five men on board. For this trip, we've got nineteen – Arthur, who is steward and mate, along with a cook, a blacksmith, and a carpenter. The rest are to handle the sails and anything else that needs handling."
Maeve paused. "Captain Carver. Those men aren't going down with this ship along with you, are they?"
He raised his head and looked around the deck at the handful of men who were his crew. "No," the captain answered. "They aren't. They want to go to San Francisco, too, as you do. They'll find work on other ships there. Or maybe start some kind of business on dry land. There's work out there for those who want it. Plenty of room for the new – for those who are not so old and unwanted as the Sea Spirit and I."
She nodded, slowly, still watching him. "Well, now. Are you so sure you really want to go down with the ship? Couldn't you do the same as your men, and start over out in the west?"
"Huh," the captain growled. "I'm too old. Don't want another life. I've always loved the sea and that's where I want to go to my rest."
Maeve nodded. "Well, I suppose you can decide for sure once we get there."
The captain walked to a stairway in the rear deck, which led below decks. "Down here," he said, stepping back so the women could start down the steps. "Get your luggage stowed. We've made a place for you to sleep."
The five women made their way down the steep, narrow wooden steps into the dimness of the hold. There was only a little faint light from the few portholes along the sides. Right away an awful stench rose up from the floor and made them all stop, struggling for breath.
"What is that?" asked Jemima, nearly gagging.
"It's worse than any pig pen," said Hattie, covering her face with her hand.
Captain Carver pushed past them into the hold. "Used to store the whale oil down here," he said. He pointed at a couple of broken barrels near the center of the hold that were still leaking the remains of their reeking whale oil all over the deck.
"But – that smell is awful!" said Eulalie.
"Huh. You'll soon get used to it. Once we're underway, the breeze will come in through the portholes and take away the worst of it. Now, come this way."
The women stepped carefully across the slippery planks of the floor. One side of the open hold was stacked with provisions. Maeve saw barrels of water, sacks of flour, bags of dried beans, kegs of dried beef, and crocks of lard. The other side was filled top to bottom with ropes and extra sails and all sorts of tools necessary to keep a sailing ship operating.
"The men bunk in the stern," said the captain. "You five will stay up here, right in the prow." And sure enough, at the very front of the ship where the two sides of it angled together, there was a stack of broken boards, empty moldering flour sacks, and what looked like the mildewed remains of canvas sails that were too rotted for even this ship to use.
"You can use that to build a pallet. Use whatever you brought with you for bedding. And I'd suggest you have one of you sit up with a pistol while the rest of you sleep. Some of the men drink sometimes and they might forget that you've already paid for your passage."
The five women turned to look at him. "I favor a shotgun myself. It's in my trunk."
"I've got one, too," said Eulalie.
"Ruby and Jemima and I all have pistols," said Hattie.
"Along with this," said Ruby, pulling an old Union Army saber from her bag.
"And this," said Jemima, brushing back her shawl to show a thick club shoved through the sash of her dress.
Captain Carver simply nodded, and then turned and left the hold. "Prepare to depart!" he bellowed, to no one in particular, and then he was gone.
Most of the men were topside preparing to take the ship out, and the women all stood together in the silent, reeking hold.
"I want to see land one more time," said Jemima.
"I do, too," said Hattie. "Hard to say how long it will be before we see it again."
"Let's go watch the departure," said Maeve, and they all walked back up the narrow steps to the deck.
They headed towards the bow of the ship and walked past the captain where he stood at the wheel. "How long before we see land again?" asked Maeve.
"Oh, we'll put in at Rio de Janeiro in four or five weeks for supplies. Not long," he answered. Then he went striding away again as the ship began to back out of the slip, shouting orders as he went.
The five young women all gathered together at the prow of the ship and watched as the land began to recede. As soon as it was clear of the docks, the captain and his men all began shouting back and forth at each other as they set the sails and the wind began to catch them. Captain Carver returned to the ship's wheel and pulled the vessel around until she faced the mouth of the harbor.
Maeve and the others caught hold of each other as the wind began to fill the sails and the Sea Spirit started on her way. "Well, girls," Maeve said under her breath, "only fourteen thousand miles to go before we reach San Francisco. I'm sure it'll seem like no time at all."
CHAPTER EIGHT
And so Maeve Harrison and the four other women from the Merrimack Mill in Manchester, New Hampshire, went back down into the hold as their old clipper ship turned south and headed down the coastline of the United States.
Their first task was to construct a bed of sorts from the broken scrap lumber and the torn and black-flecked moldy pieces of old canvas sails and burlap sacks that had been thrown onto the floor of the prow for them.
They were able to get a fair amount of wood and fabric between themselves and the wet and oily floor, and there was enough room for all of them to lie down if they formed a kind of square. "We'll use cloaks and shawls to keep warm," said Maeve.
Jemim
a shrugged. "We're gonna be so close together, I don't think we'll have to worry about being cold."
"Well, you're probably right about that. At least that's one good thing about bunking like this," said Maeve. "Here, Ruby – hand me that last piece of sail. I'll – "
Just then bow of the ship lurched downward and just as quickly bobbed up again, throwing the women first forward and then back. Then it happened again. And again.
"Oh, what's going on?" cried Ruby.
"Are we sinking?" asked Eulalie.
"No. We're not sinking," said Maeve, as they all sank down to their knees on the rough pallet bed and leaned against the ship's walls for support. "Though we might start to wish we were. Looks like we've run into a line of squalls."
"Oh, that's awful," moaned Hattie, and tried to rest her head on the pallet. "Make it stop!"
"Can't," said Jemima. "Welcome to shipboard life."
The squall continued and the ship rose up and down, up and down. Soon the old whale oil on the floor of the hold was joined by the remains of five breakfasts, and the smell became worse than ever. "We'll have to throw a few buckets of sea water on it," whispered Hattie, barely able to lift her head.
"I'm sure that will help," said Ruby in a faint voice.
"Shut up," growled Maeve, and they all closed their eyes and curled up on the rough pallet in the prow, trying as best they could to forget about where they were.
After a few hours, the sea began to calm and a little filtered sunlight found its way in through the portholes. The women slowly sat up, and then got to their feet, and soon found that they could walk well enough even as the ship gained speed through the smoother water. "Getting our sea legs," said Maeve. "Before we know it, we'll be good on ship and can't walk on land."
"I'm ready for land right now," murmured Hattie, as they all started up the steps to the top deck. "I'm already tired of the boat."
Maeve only shook her head. "Too late for that," she said. "We've got at least another six months before we reach San Francisco. You'd best find a way to get used to it."
