Beth?”
Callie woke at the sound of his voice. Just like a man to ask such a stupid question. Did he really expect her to dance a jig after sleeping on the floor all night? Not to mention worrying about Paddy’s health and being with child to boot! Callie had no illusions about a woman’s role in life, nor about her worries or her heartbreaks. Her lessons were learned early at Peggy’s knee.
Callie sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Quickly Beth introduced Patrick, relating to him the help Callie had been to her. Patrick gravely thanked her and upon learning that Callie was also to sail on the Yorkshire, quickly offered his protection.
Paddy woke, stretching his thin arms. Spying his father, he squealed his delight and immediately said he had to pee. Patrick laughed, calling him a big boy to keep his pants clean and swung the child onto his shoulders to take him outside.
“We’ll meet you back here, Patrick,” Beth was saying. “I think Callie and I need a wash and a comb ourselves.”
“There’s a public outbuilding through those doors,” Callie pointed to the rear of the warehouse they were in. She looked from Patrick to the stacked baggage, but he didn’t seem to be aware that if he didn’t take a few bundles with him, she and Beth would have to carry it all themselves.
“I’ll meet you back here, then,” Patrick told them. “C’mon, Paddy boy, hold on for another minute, won’t you?” Off he strode with Paddy riding high on his shoulders, all the baggage left to Beth and Callie.
Slinging two pokes over her shoulder and carrying another in each hand, Callie left the lightest ones for Beth. “I’m afraid Patrick isn’t the most practical of men,” Beth apologized. “I’m certain he never gave a second thought to the baggage.”
The rain had ceased, leaving huge lakes of muddy water along the paths and walkways. The lines outside the public privy were long, and Callie knew Beth was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. At last their turn came, but to their dismay there was no pump for clean water with which to wash. The stench of sewage from the cesspool was an abomination. Quickly they skipped over the puddles, trying to keep their shoes dry, and went back to the corner of the warehouse where they’d spent the night.
Callie settled down and removed a comb from the drawstring bag she carried. “I’ll comb your hair, Beth, and you comb mine.” Beth took the pins out of her long dark hair, allowing it to fall freely down her back, the bright auburn glints highlighting it like the sleek flanks of a roan pony. Callie, too, pulled the combs and pins from her hair, running her fingers through her chestnut tresses. She would have Beth braid it for her; it would stay neater that way and be less of a problem.
“Patrick says he loves my hair,” Beth told her shyly. “Men,” she said impishly, “love to run their fingers through a woman’s hair. I suppose it’s because their own is kept so short.” Callie laughed aloud as Beth braided her hair into a long thick rope that hung down her back. “The Lord alone knows how ugly I’d be without my hair,” Beth confided. “I do believe it’s what made Patrick notice me out of all the girls in the village who were smitten with him. Even when we were children he loved to pull it. He’s even said it was the reason he married me,” she laughed happily. Callie thought about it and decided the man she would marry had better want her for more than her hair.
When Patrick returned he brought them each a large, round biscuit and a paper filled with bits of ham trimmings. He offered the food to Beth as if he were offering a gift to a queen. “Look! One of the spirit vaults, that’s what they call taverns here in Liverpool, is handing out food for the hungry,” he said. “The barmaid took a liking to Paddy and handed him an extra biscuit! Isn’t that right, son?”
Paddy beamed, shyly handing his biscuit to Beth. “No, you eat it, dear,” she told him lovingly. “That’s a good boy.”
“Yesterday I had the opportunity to talk with a ticket broker,” Patrick told them between mouthfuls. “Weather permitting, the Yorkshire should make the journey in under three weeks. Think of it, Beth, in less than a month we’ll be in New York!” Paddy clapped his hands in glee, infected with his father’s excitement. “The agent also told me that each passenger on the Yorkshire is allotted two pounds of fatback and five pounds of biscuit flour each week. There are stoves for the passengers.” Patrick sounded confident and pleased with what he’d learned. It was as though he were going on a pleasure cruise, Callie thought.
“Two pounds of fatback, Patrick. It hardly seems enough,” Beth said hesitantly.
“It’s more than enough! Two pounds each for me and you and Paddy. Added with Callie’s two pounds, that makes for eight pounds altogether. Whenever did we eat eight pounds of fatback in a week?”
Beth shrugged, still doubtful. “Did the agent tell you anything else?”
“Oh, just some nonsense about taking along some stomach medicine and herb teas. And he mentioned peppermint for the digestion. And, of course, we all have to go to the medical examiner to have our tickets stamped.” This last he said hurriedly, rushing through his words, trying not to make his concern for Paddy’s health obvious. They must go to America. They must! Instinctively, his hand went to his breast pocket where his father’s silver watch was hidden. It was all he had, and he had been holding onto it for an extreme emergency. Bribing one of the doctors might just be that crisis.
As Patrick’s hand went to his breast pocket so did Callie’s hand go to the little pouch pinned to the inside of her bodice. In it rested eight shillings, given to her by Aunt Sara. With it she was to purchase coffee beans, dried peas, and tea to fortify her during the crossing. Along with the ship’s allotment, it would be more than ample, Aunt Sara had told her. She had come by her knowledge first hand from a customer at their dry goods store who had made the voyage several times.
“When does the Yorkshire sail?” Callie asked.
“Any time now. You know she won’t sail until she carries a full load of cargo. We’re to watch the posters outside the broker’s exchange.”
Callie repeated what Aunt Sara told her about bringing extra provisions. “I’ve eight shillings,” she told Patrick, “and since my cousin Owen will be meeting me when I land, I won’t be needing to put anything by for when I reach the other side. Have you seen a place where I can buy what I need at cheap prices?”
“Eight shillings! That’s a princely sum!” Patrick whistled. “I’ve less than that, and there’s three of us! We can’t afford to indulge ourselves now, we’ve got to save what we have for New York.”
“Patrick,” Beth said softly, “perhaps just a pound of coffee or just some tea. Think of Paddy, won’t you?” Worry lines creased Beth’s fair brow.
“Beth, my darlin’, I am thinking of Paddy. Now, don’t worry. The ship’s allotment will be more than enough.”
Once their simple meal was finished, Patrick settled himself with Paddy in his arms. The child was almost instantly asleep, the alarming spots of red flushing his cheekbones. “He’ll be fine once we get to America, Beth. Trust me, won’t you? It’s going to be the answer to our prayers. We’ll thrive, and Paddy will grow fat and jolly. We’ll have to work hard, but we aren’t afraid of hard work, are we, Beth?”
Callie looked away from them. She had never seen such naked devotion in anyone’s eyes as when Beth smiled at Patrick.
Chapter Five
The
