deck and looking down at me. They immediately looked away, but one fellow was unable to control the great ‘haw’ of laughter that burst from him. I felt the blood rush to my face, for I was both infuriated and embarrassed that my weight was a cause of so much amusement.
I went immediately back to my stateroom, and attempted to survey myself in the tiny mirror there. It was inadequate to the task, as I could only see about one eighth of myself at a time. I decided that they had been amused by how tight my uniform jacket had become on me. Truly, it had grown snug, and every time I donned it after that, I feared that I cut a comical figure in it. It quite spoiled the rest of the voyage for me, for whenever I attended one of the musical events or cultural lectures, I felt sure that the ladies were somewhere in the audience, staring at me. I did catch glimpses of them, from time to time, often with the same young gentlemen. They all seemed comfortable staring at me while avoiding my company. My annoyance with them grew daily, as did my self-consciousness.
Matters came to a head one evening when I was descending the stairs from one deck to the next. The stairs were spiralled to save space, and quite tightly engineered. My height as well as my new weight made them a bit tricky for me. I had discovered that as long as I kept my elbows in and trusted my feet to find their footing without attempting to look down, I could navigate them smoothly. Even for a slender passenger, the stairs did not allow users to pass one another. Thus as I descended, a small group of my fellows were waiting at the bottom of the steps for me to clear the way for them.
They did not trouble to lower their voices. ‘Beware below!’ one fellow declared loudly as I trod the risers. I recognized his voice as the same one that had declared me pregnant. My blood began to boil.
I heard a woman’s shrill and nervous giggle, followed by another male voice adding, ‘Ye gads, what is it? It’s blocking the sun! Does it wedge? No sir, it does not! Stand clear, stand clear.’ I recognized that he was imitating the stentorian tones of the sailor who took the depth readings with a lead line and shouted them back to the captain.
‘Barry! Stop it!’ a girl hissed at him, but the suppressed merriment in her voice was encouragement, not condemnation.
‘Oh, the suspense! Will he make it or will he run aground?’ the young man queried enthusiastically.
I emerged at that point from the stairwell. My cheeks were red but not with exertion. There I encountered the familiar foursome, in evening dress. One girl, still giggling, rushed past me and up the steps, her little slippers tapping hastily up the stairs and the skirts of her yellow gown brushing the sides of the stair as she went. Her tall male companion moved to follow her. I stepped in front of him. ‘Were you mocking me?’ I asked him in a level, amiable voice. I cannot say where my control came from, for inside, I was seething. Anger bubbled through my blood.
‘Let me past!’ he said angrily, with no effort at replying.
When I did not answer him or move, he attempted to push by me. I stood firm, and for once my extra weight was on my side.
‘It was just a bit of a joke, man. Don’t be so serious. Allow us passage, please.’ This came from the other fellow, a slight young man with foppishly curled hair. The girl with him had retreated behind him, one little gloved arm set on his shoulder, as if I were some sort of unpredictable animal that might attack them.
‘Get out of my way,’ the first one said again. He spoke the words through gritted teeth, furious now.
I kept my voice level with an effort. ‘Sir, I do not enjoy your mockery of me. The next time I receive an ill glance from you or hear you ridicule me, I shall demand satisfaction of you.’
He snorted disparagingly. ‘A threat! From you!’ He ran his eyes over me insultingly. His sneering smile dismissed me.
The blood was pounding in my ears. Yet strangely, I suddenly felt that I was in full control of this encounter. I cannot explain how pleasing that sensation was; it was rather like holding an excellent hand of cards when everyone else at the table assumes you are bluffing. I smiled at him. ‘You’d be wise to be thankful for this warning from me. The opportunity will not come again.’ I’d never felt so dangerous in my life.
He seemed to sense how I dismissed his bluster. His face flushed an ugly scarlet. ‘Make way!’ he demanded through gritted teeth.
‘Of course,’ I acceded. I not only stepped back, but also offered him my hand as if to assist him. ‘Be careful!’ I warned him. ‘The stairs are steeper than they appear. Watch your footing. It would be a shame if you stumbled.’
‘Do not speak to me!’ he all but shouted. He tried to cuff my hand out of the way. Instead, I caught his elbow, gripped it firmly and assisted him up the first step. I felt the iron of my strength as I did so; I think he did, too. ‘Let go!’ he snarled at me.
‘So glad to help you,’ I replied sweetly as I released him. I stepped back two steps, and then gestured to his companions that they should follow him. The girl rushed past me and up the steps, with her companion a stride behind her. He shot me a look of alarm as he passed, as if he thought I might suddenly attack him.
I was walking away when I heard a shout above me, and then a man’s roar of pain. One of them must have slipped in his panic. The woman mewed sympathetically at whichever man had fallen. I could not make out his words, for they were choked with pain. I chuckled as I walked away. I was to dine at the captain’s table that evening, and I suddenly found that I anticipated the meal with a heartier than usual appetite.
The next morning, as I enjoyed a good breakfast, I overheard gossip at our table that a young man had slipped and fallen on the stairs. ‘A very bad break,’ an old woman with a flowered fan exclaimed to the lady beside her. ‘The bone poked right out of his flesh! Can you imagine! Just from a missed step on the stair!’
I felt unreasonably guilty when I heard the extent of the young man’s injuries, but decided that he had brought them on himself. Doubtless he’d missed a riser; if he hadn’t mocked me, he would not have felt obliged to use such haste in fleeing from me.
When next I caught sight of their small party in the late afternoon, the young man I had ‘assisted’ on the stairs was absent. When one of the women caught sight of me, I saw her give a gasp of dismay and immediately turn and walk off in the other direction. Her friend and their remaining male companion followed her just as hastily. For the rest of the voyage they assiduously avoided me, and I overheard no more remarks or giggling. Yet it was not the relief that I had hoped it would be. Instead, a tiny niggle of guilt remained with me, as if my bad wishes for the fellow had caused his fall. I did not enjoy the women being fearful of me any more than I had enjoyed their derision. Both things seemed to make me someone other than who I truly was.
I was almost relieved when our jank reached the docks at Sorton and I disembarked. Sirlofty was restive after his days below decks, and displeased at once more having to wear his panniers. As I led him down the ramp to the street, I was glad to be on solid land again and dependent on no one but myself. I wended my way deeper into the crowded streets and out of sight of the jankship.
Along with my ticket and travelling money, there had been a letter from my father that precisely detailed how my journey should proceed. He had measured my journey against his cavalla maps, and had decided where I should stay every night and how much distance I must cover each day in order to arrive in time for Rosse’s wedding. His meticulous itinerary directed me to spend the night in Sorton, but I abruptly decided that I would push on and perhaps gain some time. That was a poor decision, for when night fell, I was still on the road, hours short of the small town my father had decreed was my next stop. In this settled
