by Anna Jacobs
‘We’ll be all right. You’ll see.’
Cara watched them sit there quietly, holding hands, hardly aware of the rest of the world. Yet again, she was touched by their obvious love for one another. Yet again, she envied them.
She didn’t want to be caught staring, so looked to one side. Fergus was busy with the boys, which left her and Niamh on their own. When she looked down, the baby smiled at her, she really did, seeming to recognise the woman who was mothering her. After the months of aching loneliness, it was such a comfort, holding that small, wriggling body close.
Cara told herself she should just be content with what she’d got and not wish for more. But her eyes lingered on Fergus and she knew exactly what she wanted.
Every bunk in the hostel was filled by the end of the day and Cara felt relieved when the gas lamps were turned off, with two left burning on a low flame, giving enough light to find your way to the water closet during the night.
Once again, Cara’s troubled thoughts disturbed her sleep and Fergus seemed restless, too. When the baby woke early in the morning, she decided to feed her, glad the others were still asleep.
But Fergus got up when he heard her stirring. ‘Did you sleep well?’
‘Not very.’
‘You’re not regretting what we’ve done?’
‘No, no. Not that. But it’s such a big change going to Australia, isn’t it? You can’t help thinking … worrying whether things will go well for us all.’
‘Yes. A very big change. I didn’t sleep well, either. I never thought to be following my brother anywhere, let alone to the other side of the world.’
‘You always sound as if you don’t get on with Bram.’
‘I do. Sort of. We are brothers, after all. But when we were living in the same village, I was always trying to keep up with him, and never quite succeeding because he was older.’
‘My sister was like that with me. I miss her.’ No use dwelling on that. She pulled the shawl over herself and unfastened her bodice.
‘I’ll hold up my blanket across the space between the bunks, shall I? It’ll give you more privacy without having to cover Niamh’s face.’
‘Thank you. It can be … embarrassing.’ In her other life, she would never have dreamed she could even do this, let alone do it publicly.
‘You’ve been good to my baby,’ he said abruptly. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever told you how grateful I am for that.’
She brushed a fingertip across the soft little cheek. ‘I love her like my own.’
His smile was sad and he didn’t say that he loved his little daughter as well. She wished he had said it. He’d held Niamh now at least, seen to her welfare, but he hadn’t offered the child any sign of love, not even a quick kiss. Well, he didn’t love Cara, either. It was his love for his sons and his first wife’s parents which shone out brightly.
Oh, she’d be wishing for the moon next, Cara told herself crossly. Her marriage to Fergus was a business arrangement more than anything else, and she should just be grateful that it had made her respectable again. Well, as long as no one found out about her past. She shivered at the thought.
But she was only twenty-two, young enough to want a man to care about her, to find her attractive, even if he didn’t love her with all his heart.
And Fergus was such a good-looking man.
For breakfast they were given bread, butter and jam, as much as they wanted, accompanied by big cups of tea, refilled as needed.
One ragged family gulped their food down quickly, as if afraid of having it taken away from them, bits of bread falling out of their mouths. People averted their eyes, ate their own food with a consciousness of good table manners, chiding children who didn’t follow suit.
When everyone had finished eating, they were sent to collect their possessions and marshalled into three groups: single men, single women and families.
The families were ushered out of the hostel first, moving forward in a ragged line, even the children staying quiet.
As they got closer to the ship, people exchanged murmurs of surprise at its size, because they’d only seen it in the distance before. It towered over them, its hull black, the structures on the deck a buff colour. Some men were loading crates on to it, using the cross piece on the mast as a crane. In fact, the whole dock nearby was a hive of activity.
The ship was higher than the two-storey houses most of them had lived in, and was surely a hundred paces long. It had a funnel in the middle with one mast in front of it and two behind. Mr Kieran had told them even steamships used sails for part of the voyage, to save the expense of coal, and also because of the difficulty of carrying enough fuel. Even so, the ships had to stop to re-coal a few times during the long voyages to the Orient and Australia.
‘I’d love to see the engine room,’ Fergus said, as if thinking aloud.
Cara wondered why he thought he wouldn’t be able to. ‘You can ask to see it once we’re under way.’
‘Do you really think they’d let me?’
‘They can only say no, and if you ask politely and explain that you’ve worked in the engineering section of the Great Western, they may be more inclined to let you look round it.’
He smiled wryly. ‘You’re less nervous than we are about approaching people like officers and employers, aren’t you?’
She had to think about that, then shrugged. ‘Perhaps. I’ve not had to deal with them in the same way you have. As a young lady, I always found most people polite. Until my problem forced me to live in the slums, that is.’ She shivered at the memory and he laid a gentle hand on her shoulder as if understanding and offering comfort.
She wanted to clutch his hand and keep hold of it but they reached the gangway just then. He let go as they began to walk up it to the ship’s deck.
They were led across the deck to the top of a flight of stairs let into the deck behind the funnel. It was so steep it was like a cross between a ladder and a staircase. A sailor corrected them, saying it was called a companionway, not stairs, and indicated they should go down.
The two boys stood nearby, gaping round and fidgeting, still awed by all the new sights, but clearly itching to explore the deck.
‘Come on, lads,’ a sailor said. ‘You’ll have plenty of time to explore after we set sail. We need to keep the decks clear for the moment.’
When it came her turn to go below, Mrs Grady hesitated, whispering, ‘It’s so steep,’ then crossed herself and started down. She managed perfectly well, but heaved a loud sigh of relief when she reached the bottom.
Sean and Mal started bickering about who would go down first, shoving one another around. They bumped into Cara and Fergus had to grab her to prevent her tumbling down the companionway.
He righted her and for a moment they stood very close together. ‘Are you all right?’ His breath was warm on her cheek.
‘Yes. Thank you, though. I’d have fallen if you hadn’t caught me.’
He gave her one of his rare smiles, then it faded and he turned to his sons, grabbing them both by their collars and giving them a quick shake to get their attention. ‘No more messing about near the companionway, you two. You could have hurt Cara. Word of a Deagan, if I ever catch you fooling around and putting other people on this ship in danger, I’ll tan your backsides there and then. Now, get yourselves down those stairs slowly and carefully.’
They exchanged surprised glances at the vehemence of their father’s tone, then went down quietly. He nodded as they reached the space below safely and called down, ‘Good. That’s the way to do it.’
They nodded, both responding to his seriousness. For all his threats, Cara had never seen him hit either lad, but he only had to speak sternly for them to do as they were told.
‘I’ll go first.’ He turned round when partway down the stairs, holding out his arms. ‘Give Niamh to me.’
‘I can manage.’
‘I can manage more easily.’ He grinned unexpectedly. ‘I’m not wearing skirts, am I?’
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The boys giggled at this and she too smiled as she passed him the baby. Niamh gurgled and kicked, and for a moment his face softened, but as soon as Cara was down, he handed the baby back.
When all were gathered below, a man in uniform said loudly, ‘I’m Mr Groves, the deputy chief steward, and this is Mrs Plummer, the matron in charge of steerage passengers. She will be allocating you to cabins.’
The stern-looking woman beside him called out, ‘Please wait quietly until I tell you which cabin to occupy. Oh, and by the way, we call this the passageway, not the corridor, and walls are called bulkheads on a ship.’
Cara watched the two boys mouth the words, as if eager to fit into this new world.
When it came the turn of their group, Mrs Plummer counted them with a raised forefinger, then put a tick against them on her list. ‘We have a six-berth cabin that’ll be just right for your family.’ She pointed to the right, where a younger woman in similar dark clothes was waiting to show each group to their cabin.
Ma stopped dead at the entrance. ‘Is this for all of us? It’s so small!’
The woman sighed. ‘This is steerage class, so no one has much room. At least your family isn’t sharing a cabin with strangers. Please choose your bunks, leave your hand luggage here, then come to the day cabin, where we’ll explain how things are organised on the ship.’ She pointed to an open door further along on the other side of the corridor. ‘That’s it, just along the passageway.’
Cara felt just as unhappy with their living space as Ma. There was one small porthole at the far end, and three sets of two-tier bunks. One pair was across the end and the others were against each side wall. No, she must remember to call them bulkheads now, not walls.
That didn’t leave much space in the middle, barely enough for them all to stand in a row. Each bunk had neatly folded blankets and sheets on it, with one pillow. At least the place and the bedding were immaculately clean, but the members of the family would have almost no privacy.
She sniffed. ‘It smells of new wood. I love that smell.’
‘So do I,’ Fergus said. ‘I heard one of the crew say it was a brand-new ship.’
To the left of the entrance to the cabin was a narrow space for washing, with a ewer and bowl on a wooden stand that was firmly attached to the wall. Between it and the bunks was a canvas curtain, which looked as if it could be pulled forward to hook on to the end of the bunks to provide a little privacy. On the lowest shelf of the wash stand stood a chamber pot.
Cara swallowed hard. She couldn’t sit on a chamber pot in front of her new family, just … couldn’t do it.
Relief shuddered through her as the stewardess added, with a knowing smile, ‘The heads are down at that end of the passageway. That’s what we call the water closets: heads. They empty into the sea, so please use them whenever you can, not the pot, and if you do have to use the pot, one of you must empty it as soon as possible afterwards. There are three heads, each quite private.’
She left to deal with the next group.
Fergus studied the cabin. ‘Ma and Pa, how about you take the end bunks? Or would you rather have a side pair?’
Pa smiled at him and put his arm round his wife’s shoulders. ‘We’ll be fine with these end ones, eh Alana?’
‘Yes.’
Ma didn’t look happy, Cara thought. Well, it was especially hard on women to give up nearly all their privacy.
Fergus continued to arrange things. ‘You boys can take these two bunks on the right. Cara and I will take the other pair.’
Cara hadn’t moved from the doorway. ‘What about the baby?’
Just as she spoke, the stewardess came past with another group and overheard her. She stopped to say, ‘I forgot to tell you, Mrs Deagan: we’ll give you a baby hammock for your daughter. I’ll show you how to set it up later.’
By the time the woman had moved on, Sean and Mal were arguing about who should take the top bunk, but Sean grew impatient and shoved his little brother on to the bottom bunk, then climbed on the top one with a triumphant grin. ‘I’m sleeping here.’
‘It’s not fair!’ Mal yelled. ‘Dad, it’s not fair. Tell him.’
Fergus hauled his older son down. ‘You’ll wait to be told what to do, Sean. I think the fairest way would be to have one week each on top, taking it in turns. But because you were unkind to your little brother, you can take the bottom bunk first. I’ve told you before, I won’t have you being unkind to one another.’
Sean scowled at his father and plumped down on the lower bunk, arms folded, bottom lip jutting out.
Mal clambered up on top, smirking.
Fergus turned to Cara. ‘Which bunk do you want?’
‘I’d prefer the lower one.’
‘Are you sure? I don’t mind which one I take.’
‘I’m very sure. Maybe we can hang a sheet somewhere to give me privacy to feed Niamh.’
‘We’ll ask the stewardess.’ He looked at Ma and Pa. ‘Who’s going on top?’
‘I think we’ll follow the boys’ example and take turns. Unless one of us doesn’t like it up there.’ Ma looked at the upper bunk doubtfully.
Pa followed her gaze. ‘I’ll go on top first, if you like, Alana.’
‘Right then. And I think we’d better go to the dining area now, like the stewardess said.’
Other people were waiting in the bigger space where they would eat their meals. It was in the centre of this deck, with no portholes. It was lit by round skylights in the ceiling and had lamps fixed to the walls. Some of the older people were sitting down, but the children were standing.
‘Why don’t you sit down?’ Fergus said to Cara. ‘You’ve got Niamh to carry.’ He found a place for them, then sat beside her, nodding politely to the next family. When they nodded back, he introduced himself and his companions.
He was a born leader, Cara realised, watching him get these strangers introducing themselves. Soon they were all chatting to one another.
Mrs Plummer and her assistant joined them, explaining how meals were organised and what happened if the weather was rough.
‘Whenever you go on deck, you must keep to the rear part. Steerage passengers may not go into the area to the front of the funnel, only cabin passengers.’ Mrs Plummer paused to look first at the adults, then at the children. ‘Is that clear? Good. Now, I’m sure you’d like a cup of tea, so we’ll have the urn brought in. Perhaps a couple of you women would take charge of it?’
She looked directly at Mrs Grady as she spoke and Cara was amused at the way Ma nodded acceptance of the task, then looked scared at her own rashness.
‘Don’t go up on deck until I send word,’ the stewardess went on. ‘We’re still loading stores and checking everything, it being a newly commissioned ship. When we’re making ready to set sail, the sailors are always very busy.’
A man said, ‘Won’t we be allowed to take a last look at England?’
‘Of course you will. That’ll be in two or three hours, though, perhaps longer. They’ve been working all night to get the ship ready, but there’s still a lot to do.’
They certainly organised the passengers, Cara thought. But she supposed they’d have to on such a big ship. Then Niamh began to fret and she realised the baby needed feeding. As she stood up, Fergus looked at her sharply, as if asking whether something was wrong.
‘I need to feed her,’ she whispered.
‘I’ll come with you, in case you need anything fetching.’
When they got back to the cabin, he watched her settle down, then sat on the lower bunk opposite.
She looked down at the rosy, contented infant, forgetting her usual embarrassment when someone saw the child on her breast.
After his first glance, Fergus carefully looked the other way, his cheeks slightly flushed. ‘I’ll fetch you a cup of tea and ask Ma to keep you some food.’ He left the cabin.
She could hear voices from the dining cabin, but here it was peaceful. This was one of the rare occasions she’d been
alone since her poor little daughter was stillborn, and she welcomed an opportunity to get her thoughts in order. They’d be about two months on the way, first on this ship as far as Suez. Some passengers would be going to India or China, and others, like her, to Australia.
Two months seemed a long time to be travelling, but at least it would postpone any intimacies with Fergus.
What would happen to that side of things when they reached Australia? She was still woefully ignorant about how the act of love-making happened between married people. Her mother had refused to tell her any details. Cara had thought she was being torn apart when the man attacked her.
But she had gathered from overhearing Ma and Pa chat to one another that married people did it quite often, so it couldn’t be such agony, surely. Anyway, Fergus wouldn’t hurt her … or not much, anyway. He was always kind to the others, and he would be to her. She really liked that about him.
Well, the intimate side of things would have to wait, so she’d not waste time worrying about it yet. She’d have enough on her plate learning to look after a growing baby on a ship.
She frowned down at the child. Her breast was empty and Niamh didn’t seem satisfied. She’d have to ask Ma about that. Maybe she was doing something wrong.
Rémi Newland walked up the gangway of the huge P&O steamship, SS Peshawur, followed by a porter wheeling his cabin luggage.
He was met at the top by a respectful young officer with a list of names, who told a burly sailor to stow the luggage in Mr Newland’s cabin.
Rémi paid the porter and followed the crew member to his cabin, but stopped short in the doorway with a grimace. There was a cabin trunk already there. He hadn’t realised he’d be sharing with someone else.
The young man said brightly, ‘I’m the steward who looks after these cabins. Name’s Kirkly. The other gentleman hasn’t arrived yet, so you can choose which bunk you use.’
‘I thought the cabins were supplied with proper beds,’ Rémi said. He’d read the information put out by the P&O Company.
‘That’s in the first-class cabins, sir. This is a second-class cabin. There wouldn’t be room in here for two beds.’