My Peculiar Family

by Les Rosenthal

  I was just in time to see the Delta Lady go down, hissing and bubbling and blowing off steam for the last time. It was only then that I remembered that everything I owned—including the money I'd deposited in the safe that very night—had gone down with her.

  And now here I am, writing this down in an attempt to make sense of it.

  Cribb didn't make it—he washed up, drowned, on the north shore two miles downstream. Most everybody else made it ashore—thanks to the Captain, Curly Jim—and a big helping of good luck.

  As for me, I can only wonder. Maybe I should have let her give Cribb to the fire. Maybe that way, we might have rescued the safe and I'd still have the money and a boat to spend it on.

  But that's the thing about Lady Luck—you never know which way she will take you.

  With This Ring, I Thee Bind

  The story of

  Mary Francis, the Prostitute

  Kristi McDowell

  Mary Frances didn’t hear the factory horn the first morning. When she finally woke up, it was well after 7:00am. She leapt out of bed and rushed, barefoot, down the few blocks to the mill. She was greeted by the gateman, a lanky man in a gray uniform, outside of the mill. He looked down his nose at the young spinner and raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Really, Dimsdale? On the first day?”

  “I didn’t hear the bell,” Mary Frances complained. “I haven’t been paid yet. I can’t hire a knocker up. Please, I need to get in there today. I have to. Please, I send the money to my family!”

  The gateman cleared his throat uncomfortably as he observed the short woman in front of him. Her dark hair stuck out from under her bonnet and the front of her dress was rumpled from running. She gave her brightest smile up at the man, who could be attractive, now that Mary Frances was getting a good look at him. She batted her eyes and smoothed her dress, waiting on the man’s decision.

  “All right. Because it’s your first day.” The gateman slid the iron gate aside to allow Mary Frances entry. He gave her a wink. “But tomorrow will be another story. You need to figure yourself out, Dimsdale.”

  Mary Frances nodded in agreement. “I will, Mr. Williams. I sure will. Thank you, sir. Thank you!” She quickened her step to get into the building faster. Ferguson Williams was only one obstacle to get by. She had to navigate the mill manager if she wanted to get through her first day. If she got fired, her family would never forgive her!

  Across the street, another young spinner was watching Mary Frances enter the factory. Her dark gaze fell upon Mr. Williams, the gateman who had shut her out only moments before. The pair locked eyes and stared for a long moment before the spinner turned on her heel and stormed down the street.

  ***

  The next day, Mary Frances Dimsdale made it to the gate on time. As she passed Mr. Williams, the gateman gave the spinner a small nod and the faintest hint of a smile. It went unnoticed by many of the girls who filed into the mill yard. Only one blonde spinner in the mix noticed the exchange. Her mouth twisted into a scowl as she passed the gateman. “Nice of you to join us today, Flanagan.”

  Theresa Flanagan didn’t dignify the remark with one of her own. She held her chin high and continued into the yard. As the group of women dispersed within the gate, Theresa hurried to fall into step beside Mary Frances. “Good morning.”

  Mary Frances glanced at the woman walking with her. “Good morning?”

  “You’re new here, aren’t you? I’m Theresa. I’m three frames down in your row.”

  “Oh,” Mary Frances replied simply. The pair entered the mill and were struck instantly with the thickness of the air inside. Mary Frances, still unused to the atmosphere, had to clear her throat for a moment before she could continue her conversation. Theresa, a two year veteran, waited patiently until the coughing fit passed. “I’m Mary Frances Dimsdale.”

  “You managed to make it on time,” Theresa commented.

  Mary Frances’ stride was disrupted as she slipped in one of the puddles of water that indicated they were approaching the weaving end. She looked at Theresa with wide, surprised eyes. “I was shut out yesterday,” Theresa offered, to explain the origin of her knowledge. “But I saw that you were let in.”

  The dark-haired woman flushed. “Mr. Williams let me in, on account of it being my first day.”

  Theresa nodded. “Ah.” After a beat, she asked, “Where are you from, Mary Frances?”

  “Kerry,” Mary Frances replied, pleased to have a change in topic. “My family is still there. I live in the tenements on Tea Lane.”

  “Alone?” Theresa pressed. They were arriving at Mary Frances’ frame.

  Mary Frances began to prepare the machine she would be spending the next twelve hours with. “With several other girls.” She expected the other woman to move on to her own loom but was surprised when Theresa remained.

  “Is there anyone back in Kerry, waiting for you?” Theresa asked, her blue eyes inquisitive.

  Mary Frances shook her head. “Oh no. Goodness no.”

  “Oh!” Theresa smiled knowingly at Mary Frances before turning to move to her own frame. “I see. Well, you’ve got a beautiful ring. I’ll be seeing you, Mary Frances.”

  Startled, Mary Frances looked down to see a gold ring upon her left ring finger. She reached down with her right hand to pull the jewelry off and was alarmed to find that it didn’t budge. She looked up in shock at the retreating Theresa, who had her head bent to whisper to her neighbor. As one, they turned their heads to look right at Mary Frances Dimsdale. They giggled through their own loom preparations.

  “What the--” Mary Frances murmured, frantically trying to catch up. She dropped a handful of bobbins when the first bell was rung, announcing the start of the work day. She dropped to her knees to retrieve the dropped items and cringing when the mill manager shouted her name. Her anxiousness mounted with each mistake. Dropping the bobbins led to not spinning on time led to fumbling with her machine led to even more mistakes. By breakfast, the mill manager had shouted himself hoarse at Mary Frances Dimsdale.

  ***

  At lunch, groups of mill workers left the factory to fill the local pubs for the midday meal. Mary Frances looked for the spinners she had dined with the day prior but as she lifted her hand to get their attention, she was distracted by the glint of her mysterious new accessory. The girls seemed distracted by it as well, whispering among themselves as they hurried around a corner.

  Mary Frances slowed her step just outside the gate. She looked down at the piece of jewelry that seemed to sparkle in whatever light touched it. Even in the dim mill, Mary Frances saw the ring draw the eyes of other spinners. They whispered to one another and no longer returned her gaze.

  So caught up in her mood, Mary Frances didn’t notice Mr. Williams trying to catch her attention. She did, however, realize that Theresa was suddenly walking beside her. She looked up at the spinner. “Theresa!”

  “Yes, Mary Frances?” The blonde smiled pleasantly at her companion, though she did appear to be looking over Mary Frances’ shoulder at something. Or someone. When Mary Frances followed her fellow spinner’s gaze, all she saw was Mr. Williams watching after them. Mary Frances couldn’t help her own smile but Theresa was speaking again, no longer looking at the gateman. “Have you been to the pub this way?” Theresa asked as she guided Mary Frances away from the Mill. “It’s quite wonderful.”

  Mary Frances returned her attention to Theresa as they walked down the street. They passed other girls similarly seeking sustenance after a hard morning’s work but the two spinners were ignored much as Mary Frances had been since the mysterious ring had appeared on her finger. “Thank you, Theresa, for showing me around like this but--”

  “Sh!” Theresa advised sharply, holding a slender finger to her lip. Mary Frances noticed a newly familiar glint coming from the woman’s hand. Theresa saw that the new girl had recognized her own ring and gave Mary Frances a satisfied nod. Then she proceeded to talk about her own family down in Galway. Mary Frances was surprised
at how similar their lives prior to Belfast were. Both older daughters from large families, they were good Catholic girls sent to the city to earn some extra money to support a family whose livelihood was suffering from droughts and famines. While many of the Dimsdales had opted to leave for America, the land of opportunity it was said, Mary Frances and her family had chosen to remain. Things would turn around, the remaining Dimsdales believed, and so they persisted, sending their older children out into the rest of the country to find work and send money home.

  Mary Frances was so engrossed in their conversation that she barely noticed that Theresa had stopped in front of the Crown Bar. It was the nicest pub in Belfast. There was no way the new spinner could afford this! She looked in wonder at Theresa, who was already headed inside. The blonde waved a hand excitedly, indicating that Mary Frances should hurry up. Before she could ask anymore questions, they were ushered into one of the private snugs that had been popularized in the Victorian era. Once they were alone, Theresa leaned across the table to whisper harshly, “You mustn’t speak of the ring again after this, do you understand?”

  Mary Frances most certainly did not understand. She whispered back, “What black magic is this?”

  “It’s neither black nor white. And I’d advise that you sound a bit more appreciative for the gift I’ve given you.” Theresa sat back in her seat and folded her arms across her chest.

  “Gift?!” Mary Frances spat, though she managed to keep her voice low. “All I know is that until this bloody thing turned up, I didn’t have silly girls whispering and avoiding me! The last thing I want is some reputation that I’ve got some neglected husband back home--”

  “That is exactly the reputation you want to have,” Theresa interrupted. She waited to continue and, though they hadn’t ordered, a woman arrived with two steaming bowls of stew. She left them on the table and left without saying a word. Only when the woman was gone did Theresa continue. “You don’t know how dangerous a man Mr. Ferguson Williams is. And while you swish your skirts and bat those eyes of yours at his, you’re inviting him to completely destroy you.”

  Mary Frances was quiet, stunned into silence by Theresa’s warning. She pushed the spoon for the stew around on the table as she contemplated. Finally, she shook her head. “You’re mad. He was kind to me on my first day, that’s all.”

  “That’s how it starts,” Theresa told Mary Frances. She picked up her spoon and began to eat. She made a production of the first bite, gesturing that Mary Frances should do the same. They didn’t have all day to chat. With her mouthful, Theresa said, “Then he begins to talk to you a little, stealing little moments of your time. Then he’s offering to walk you home after work. You’ll decline, of course, but you’re a lady. He’ll insist further until you agree. After all, you live with other girls in the tenements. It’ll be obvious that he’s just being kind to you.

  “And then he doesn’t take you home, Mary Frances. Not to your home, anyway. Perhaps it’s his, perhaps it’s a mate’s. Doesn’t matter where it is.” Theresa let that hang in the air. Mary Frances was doing her best to appear skeptical, but this was exactly the sort of thing one worried about when she moved away from her family, especially as far away as Belfast. There were rumors of girls being treated roughly in the mills, though there was never mention of that. But girls worried just the same. “Can you imagine what it might be like? To be unwed and with child, alone and friendless, standing in front of your loom? What would your family think? And will Mr. Williams, with his kindness and his smile, be there for you?”

  Mary Frances chewed her stew thoughtfully. Her appetite was long gone but she would need the nourishment if she were to be on her feet another six hours. “How do you know this?”

  “My cousin wasn’t entirely alone and friendless, as you are,” Theresa said quietly. “She couldn’t bear the shame. Her family wouldn’t take her back, she lost her job at the mill, and she knew there were no options for her. No proper options…” Theresa’s white-knuckled fist clenched her spoon. “Williams denies it, of course, but I saw him with her. I followed her after work, saw what he’d done to her, but was powerless.”

  Theresa hung her head in shame. “I knew I’d lose my job if I said anything. I was a coward. I couldn’t lose my job and disappoint my family further. But I knew that if there was anything I could do, to protect other girls, I would do it.”

  Mary Frances wanted desperately to hear more but Theresa was scooting out of the booth. “We need to get back to work. We’ll talk more later. But remember one thing.”

  And then Theresa said something that would haunt Mary Frances forever. “The only thing men respect is another man’s property.”

  ***

  It would be several weeks before Theresa and Mary Frances were able to speak again. Once Mary Frances began to talk about a husband back in Kerry, some of the other spinners warmed up to her. Several girls were trying to raise their own families from the mills, though that wasn’t very common. Most were supporting mothers, fathers, and siblings back home. But some sympathized, which only made it harder for Mary Frances. She disliked lying but the things Theresa had said made her very wary of slipping up. She avoided Mr. Williams’ smile a she passed through the gate.

  It all felt very, very odd.

  One day, nearly a month after that strange conversation, Mary Frances noticed that Mr. Williams stopped trying to get her attention. She was late for work one morning, despite the knocker up, and the gateman turned her away. No more kindness for Ms. Dimsdale. She was docked a day’s pay and written up for it. The spinner was furious. And, to add insult to injury, she had to watch some other spinner giggle for the gateman’s favor.

  Later, at the lunch hour, Mary Frances waited, foot tapping, impatiently for Theresa to leave the mill. She waved the other spinner toward her. When Theresa saw Mary Frances, the blonde smiled and waved as she approached. “Taking a day off, Mary Frances?”

  “I was late and Mr. Williams wouldn’t let me in.”

  Theresa grimaced. “That’s rotten luck.”

  “He wouldn’t let me in because you turned me against him!” Mary Frances nearly shouted. “He thinks I’m married, the ladies think I’m married and flirting with another man, and it’s all because of you and your dark magic!”

  Theresa smiled and said nothing. She crooked her finger and began to walk away, back toward the mill. Puzzled, Mary Frances followed the spinner. Many of the girls had left but Williams remained right by his post. His eyes narrowed as the two women approached. “Off with you, girls. It’s the lunch hour.”

  “I wanted to talk to you about Catherine Flaherty, Mr. Williams,” Theresa said. “Would you join us for a drink at the pub?”

  Williams looked back and forth from Mary Frances to Theresa. He gave them a brief nod and followed them down the street. His head swiveled as he watched for any unwanted attention.

  Mary Frances felt like someone who had come into a play during the final act. The tension was high but she could not fully grasp the story. She was tempted to run away but felt compelled to see this through. Unnoticed by all, the rings she and Theresa shared flickered with the shine of the sun.

  Inside the Crown Bar, the same woman who had brought the women lunch greeted the trio. Instead of ushering them into a private snug, she closed and locked the door.

  When Williams heard the click of the lock, he turned as though to run. The room dimmed then and Mary Frances’ heart began to race. She wanted to run, too. She felt a hand on her shoulder and was pulled back away from the gateman. Mary Frances looked at the owner of the hand, a cloaked figure whose face was completely concealed by the shadows that covered the bar, and felt herself flush. She looked away from the cloaked person to watch Williams, now pounding on the door and demanding to be set free. “You’ll lose your jobs for this!” he threatened, raising his voice to be heard over the banging on the heavy door. “Worse than that! You’ll never work in Belfast again!”

  A thick smoke began to seep in
to the pub from under the door, through the windows, and up through the floors. Mary Frances fought back a cough, this one caused by the sudden stench of sulfur. Her cloaked companion didn’t so much as sputter.

  Neither did Theresa, who stood several feet behind Williams. She stood quietly with her hands on her hips. Behind the spinner, Mary Frances could have sworn she saw something shimmer. The smoke made it hard to see anything for sure but it looked as though there were maybe half a dozen women faintly glowing behind Theresa. “They say that it’s a man’s world, Mr. Williams.” The voice that didn’t quite match Theresa’s timbre echoed around the Crown Bar. “But we belong to another man and he demands payment for the ones you’ve stolen from him.”

  Williams slowly looked over his shoulder. His eyes were wide and his lips trembled. He stopped struggling with the door. “Do your worst, witch.” The words should have been intimidating but Theresa and her companions were beyond intimidation. Mary Frances knew that whatever was happening now, there was no way the gateman could overcome it.

  Mary Frances’ skin tingled. She heard a whisper in her ear. “You must make a choice, Mary Frances Dimsdale. Marry the night and join us. You will never have deal with men like Ferguson Williams again.”

  “At what cost?” Mary Frances asked quietly.

  There was no immediate answer. Mary Frances watched in horror as the ethereal women began to glide toward their victim. As Williams began to scream, Mary Frances looked away. She looked into the dark hood of the cloaked figure and saw nothing but darkness. “There will be certain sacrifices.”

  Mary Frances couldn’t bear the sounds any longer. “I want no part of this.”

  The ring that had appeared so mysteriously simply dropped from Mary Frances’ finger. Despite the horrible screams, she could hear it clatter and roll away. “Go now. There is a ship in the harbor. It will take you to America. Never come back.”