In the Land of the Long White Cloud

by Sarah Lark

  When Susan and her husband finally came to London “just to talk things over one last time,” Helen didn’t even respond to Susan’s show of grief when they said their farewells. Instead, she pointed out that her move would hardly change anything about their relationship. “We haven’t written to each other much more than twice a year even up to now,” Helen said coldly. “You are busy with your family, and it surely won’t be any different for me.”

  If only there was something concrete to make her believe that.

  She had received no further word from Howard. However, a week before Helen’s departure, after she’d long since given up lying in wait for the letter carrier every morning, George brought her an envelope covered in many bright stamps.

  “Here, Miss Davenport!” he said excitedly. “You can open it immediately. I promise I won’t tattle, and I won’t look over your shoulder. I’ll be playing with William, OK?”

  Helen was in the garden with her charges; she had just ended their lessons for the day. William was alone, busy hitting the ball intermittently through the croquet hoops.

  “George, you mustn’t say ‘OK,’” Helen chided him out of habit, while reaching with unseemly haste for the letter. “Where did you even learn that word? From those smutty novels the help reads? For heaven’s sake do not leave them lying around. If William…”

  “William can’t read,” George interrupted her. “We both know that, Miss Davenport, whatever Mother likes to believe. And I won’t say ‘OK’ again; I promise. Are you going to read your letter now?” The expression on George’s narrow face was unexpectedly serious. Helen had rather expected his usual insinuating smirk.

  But what was that supposed to mean? Even if he did inform his mother that she, Helen, was reading private letters during work, in a week she would be at sea, unless…

  Helen ripped the letter open with trembling hands. If Mr. O’Keefe no longer showed an interest in her now…

  My dearest Miss Davenport,

  Words cannot express how much your lines touched my soul. I have not put your letter down since I received it a few days ago. It accompanies me everywhere, when working on the farm, during my rare trips to the city—whenever I reach for it, I find comfort and an effervescent joy in knowing that somewhere far away a heart beats for me. And I must admit that in the darkest hours of my loneliness I occasionally bring it to my lips. This paper that you have touched, over which your breath has passed, is as sacred to me as the few reminders of my family, which I guard like treasures.

  But how shall we continue? Dearest Miss Davenport, I would like nothing more now than to tell you to come! Let us leave our loneliness behind us. Let us brush away the scurf of despair and darkness. Let us start anew, together!

  Here we can hardly wait for the first whiffs of spring to blossom. The grass is beginning to turn green; the trees are beginning to bud. How gladly I would share this sight with you! For that to happen, however, there are more tedious considerations than the flight of burgeoning affection. I would gladly send you the money for the journey, my dear Miss Davenport—oh why not, my dearest Helen! But that will have to wait until my sheep have lambed and the farm’s earnings this year can be estimated. After all, I do not want to burden our life together with debt right from the beginning.

  Can you, my dear Helen, have patience for these concerns? Can you, will you, wait until my call can finally go out to you? There is nothing on earth I wish so earnestly.

  I remain your ever devoted,

  Howard O’Keefe

  Helen’s heart was beating so quickly that she thought she might need the smelling salts for the first time in her life. Howard wanted her; he loved her! And now she could give him the nicest surprise. Instead of sending a letter, she’d come herself. She was eternally grateful to the Reverend Thorne. She was eternally grateful to Lady Brennan. Yes, even to George who had just brought her this missive.

  “Are…are you done reading, Miss Davenport?”

  Absorbed as she was, Helen had not noticed that the boy was still standing next to her.

  “Is it good news?”

  George did not look like he wanted to share in her happiness. On the contrary, he seemed despondent.

  Helen looked at him with concern but could not contain her happiness.

  “The best news one could ask for!” she said ecstatically.

  George did not return her smile.

  “So…he really wants to marry you? He…he didn’t say you should stay where you are, miss?” he asked in a monotone.

  “Now George! Why should he say that?” In her blissful state, Helen completely forgot that up until that very moment, she had repeatedly denied having replied to the advertisement in question. “We fit together wonderfully. A very cultivated young man, who…”

  “More cultivated than me, Miss Davenport?” George blurted out. “Are you sure he’s better than I am? Smarter? Better read? Because…if it’s only about love…I…well, he can’t love you more than I do…”

  George turned away, shocked by his own courage. Helen had to grab him by the shoulder and turn him around to look him in the eye. He seemed to shiver at her touch.

  “Now George, what are you saying? What do you know about love? You’re only sixteen! You’re my student!” Helen exclaimed, astonished—but knew even as she spoke that she was talking nonsense. Why couldn’t you feel deeply at sixteen?

  “Now look, George, I’ve never ever compared you and Howard,” she continued. “Or even seen you as rivals. After all, I didn’t know that you…”

  “And you couldn’t have known!” Something almost like hope now glimmered in George’s clever brown eyes. “I had…just had to tell you. Even before all this about New Zealand. But I didn’t think you…”

  “That was the right thing and completely normal, George,” she said in a conciliatory tone. “You yourself knew that you’re far too young for such things, and normally you wouldn’t have put your feelings into words. Why don’t we forget it now…”

  “I’m ten years younger than you, Miss Davenport,” George interrupted her. “And I’m your student, of course, but I’m not a child anymore. I’m starting my studies, and in a few years I’ll be a respected merchant. Then, no one will care about my age or my wife’s.”

  “But I will,” Helen said softly. “I want a man my own age who is right for me. I’m sorry, George…”

  “And how do you know the man in the letter will live up to that?” the boy asked in despair. “Why do you love him? You have only just received a letter from him for the first time. Did he give his age? Do you know whether he can keep you suitably fed and clothed? Will you even have anything to talk about? You’ve always enjoyed speaking with my father and me. So if you’ll wait for me…just a few years, Miss Davenport, until I’ve finished my studies. Please, Miss Davenport! Please give me a chance!”

  George reached uncontrollably for her hand.

  Helen pulled away.

  “I’m sorry, George. It’s not that I wouldn’t like you; quite the opposite. But I’m your teacher, and you’re my student. Nothing more can come of that…besides, you’ll think about things in a whole new light in a few years.”

  Helen wondered whether Richard Greenwood had guessed something of his son’s blind lovesickness. Perhaps that was why she had him to thank for the generously donated ship’s passage—and perhaps he also wanted to make the hopelessness of his son’s feelings plain to him.

  “I’ll never feel differently,” George said passionately. “As soon as I’m of age, as soon as I can support a family, I’ll be there for you! If only you’ll wait, Miss Davenport.”

  Helen shook her head. She had to end this conversation now. “George, even if I did love you, I cannot wait. If I want to have a family, I have to seize the opportunity now. Howard is that opportunity. And I will be a true and loving wife to him.”

  George looked at her in desperation. His narrow face reflected all the torment of love spurned, and Helen thought she could almos
t discern, behind the still unripe features of the boy’s face, the countenance of the man George would one day be. A lovable, worldly man who would not commit himself overly hastily—and who would keep his promises. Helen would have liked to comfort the boy in her arms, but of course that was out of the question.

  She waited silently for George to turn away. Helen imagined that childish tears were building in his eyes, but George returned her gaze calmly and firmly.

  “I will always love you,” he stated. “Always. No matter where you are and what you’re doing. No matter where I am and what I’m doing. I love you, only you. Don’t ever forget that, Miss Davenport.”

  5

  The Dublin was an imposing ship even before it was under full sail. To Helen and the orphan girls it seemed as big as a house, and in reality the Dublin would shelter considerably more people over the next three months than a common tenement house. Helen hoped it wasn’t as prone to fire and collapse, but the ships bound for New Zealand were inspected for seaworthiness before departure. The ship owners had to demonstrate to the Crown inspectors that the cabins received enough air and that they had sufficient provisions on board. This last consideration was still being fulfilled that day, and Helen sensed what awaited her as she watched the barrels of salted meat, the sacks of flour and potatoes, and the packets of hardtack being loaded on board from the pier. She had already heard that the cuisine on board lacked variety—at least for the passengers in steerage. The first-class guests in cabins were served very differently. It was rumored that they even had their own cook on board.

  A gruff ship’s officer and a doctor oversaw the boarding of the “common people.” The latter looked Helen and the girls over briefly, felt the children’s foreheads, most likely to check for febrile illnesses, and had them stick out their tongues. When he did not find anything questionable, he nodded to the officer, who then checked their names off a list.

  “Cabin one in the rear,” he said and waved Helen and the girls on quickly. The seven of them felt their way through the tight, dark corridors in the hold of the ship, which were all but blocked by excited passengers and their belongings. Helen did not have much baggage, but even her small travel bag became increasingly heavy. The girls carried even less; they only had little bundles with their night things and one change of dress apiece.

  When they finally reached their cabin, the girls tumbled in, gasping. Helen was anything but excited by the tiny chamber that would serve as their living quarters for the next three months. The furnishings in the dark, low-ceilinged room consisted of a table, a chair, and six berths—bunk beds—Helen confirmed with horror, and one too few to boot. Luckily, Mary and Laurie were accustomed to sharing a bed. They took possession of one of the middle berths and snuggled in close together. They were already terrified about the journey to come, and the crowds and noise on board only scared them further.

  Helen, on the other hand, was more bothered by the permeating stench of sheep, horses, and other animals wafting up to them from belowdecks. Someone had erected provisional pens for sheep and swine, as well as a cow and two horses next to and below Helen’s billet, of all places. Helen found all this unconscionable and decided to complain. She ordered her girls to wait in the cabin and set out for the deck. Fortunately, there was a shorter way up to the fresh air than the way they had come through steerage: directly in front of Helen’s cabin was a set of stairs that led upward, on which provisional ramps had been set up for the loading of the animals. None of the crew could be seen from the aft of the ship, however; unlike the entrance on the other end, this one wasn’t being watched. However, it swarmed with people too; emigrating families were hauling their baggage aboard and embracing their loved ones with tears and lamentations. The crowds and noise were unbearable.

  Then, suddenly, the crowd parted along the gangways over which the cargo and livestock were being brought. The reason for that was easy to see: just then two horses were being loaded, and one of them had been spooked. A wiry little man with blue tattoos on his arms that identified him as a member of the crew had his hands full trying to calm the animal down. Helen wondered whether the man was being forced to take on this un-seamanlike task as part of some punishment. He clearly had no experience with horses since he was handling the powerful black stallion with no skill whatsoever.

  “Now come on, you black devil, I don’t have all the time in the world!” he bellowed at the animal, who remained uncooperative. In fact, the black horse dragged him forcefully backward, angrily flattening its ears as it did. He seemed determined not to set a single hoof on the dangerously wobbling ramp.

  The second horse, which Helen could only vaguely make out behind him, seemed calmer, and its guide appeared far more in control. To her surprise, Helen saw that she was a petite girl in elegant traveling clothes. She waited impatiently with the stock brown mare’s lead in her hand. Since the stallion still did not show any signs of moving forward, the girl intervened.

  “That’s not going to do anything; give him here!”

  Helen observed in amazement as the young lady handed her mare over to one of the waiting émigrés and took the stallion from the sailor. Helen expected the horse to tear itself away; after all, the man could hardly hold on to it. Instead, the black horse calmed down immediately when the girl shortened its lead and started speaking gently to it.

  “So, we’ll do it step by step, Madoc. I’ll go ahead; you follow me. And don’t you dare run me over!”

  Helen held her breath as the stallion followed the young girl—tensely, but behaving impeccably. The girl complimented and petted him when he finally stood safely on board. The stallion drooled on her navy-blue velvet travel dress, though the girl didn’t seem to notice.

  “What are you doing down there with the mare?” she called to the sailor below. “Igraine, don’t cause him trouble. Just come forward!”

  Although she pranced a bit, the brown mare proved calmer than the young stallion. The sailor held her lead from its far end, making a face as though he were balancing a stick of dynamite. Regardless, he brought the horse on board, and Helen could now make her complaint. As the girl and the man led the animals directly past her cabin on their way belowdecks, she turned to the sailor.

  “Though it’s probably not your fault, still someone must do something. We cannot possible stay here next to the stables. The stench is unbearable. And what if the animals break loose? Then our lives would be in danger!”

  The sailor shrugged. “I can’t do anything about it, madam. Order of the cap’n. The critters’re coming with. And the cabin arrangement’s always the same: men traveling alone up front, families in the middle, women traveling alone in the back. Since you’re the only women traveling alone, you can’t trade with anyone. You’ll just have to get over it, madam.” The man hastened behind the mare, who appeared eager to follow the stallion and the young lady. The girl maneuvered first the black horse and then the brown into two neighboring stalls and tied them in tightly. When she emerged again, her blue velvet skirt was covered with straw.

  “Stupid dress!” the girl cursed as she attempted to shake the dress clean. Then she gave up and turned to Helen.

  “I’m sorry if the animals bother you, madam. But they can’t break free; the ramps are being taken down…which isn’t without its dangers. If the ship should sink, I’ll never get Igraine out of here! But the captain insists on it. The stalls should be cleaned every day. And the sheep won’t smell so strongly as soon as they’ve dried. Besides, you get used to—”

  “I will never get used to living in a stall,” Helen remarked regally.

  The girl laughed. “But where’s your pioneer spirit? You are emigrating, aren’t you? Really, I’d gladly trade with you, madam. But I sleep all the way up top. Mr. Warden booked the salon cabin. Are these all your children?”

  She cast an eye over the girls, who had at first followed Helen’s orders to remain in their cabin, but who now poked their heads out cautiously but curiously when they heard H
elen’s voice. Daphne, in particular, eyed the horses with interest, as well as the young lady’s elegant clothing.

  “Of course not,” Helen said. “I’m only taking care of them during the passage. They’re orphans. Are those all your animals?”

  The girl laughed. “No, just the horses…one of the horses, to be precise. The stallion belongs to Mr. Warden. The sheep too. I don’t know whom the other animals belong to, but maybe we could even milk the cow! Then we’d have fresh milk for the children. They look like they could use it.”

  Helen nodded sadly. “Yes, they’re severely undernourished. Hopefully they’ll survive the long journey; one hears so much about disease and child mortality. But at least we have a doctor on board. I can only hope he knows his business. Oh, by the way, my name is Helen Davenport.”

  “Gwyneira Silkham,” answered the girl. “And those two are Madoc and Igraine,” she said, introducing the horses as matter-of-factly as if they were guests at the same tea party. “And Cleo…where’s she hiding now? Ah, there she is. She’s making friends again.”

  Helen followed Gwyneira’s gaze and saw a furry little creature that seemed to be giving her a friendly smile. However, in doing so, it also revealed its imposingly large teeth, which sent a shiver through Helen. She startled when she saw Rosie next to the animal. The little girl snuggled as trustfully into the dog’s fur as she did into the folds of Helen’s skirt.

  “Rosemary!” Helen called in alarm. The girl shrank back and let go of the dog, which turned back to her and raised an imploring paw.

  Gwyneira laughed and made her own placating hand motion. “Don’t worry about letting the little one play with her,” she told Helen calmly. “Cleo loves children. She won’t harm her. I’m afraid I must be going. Mr. Warden will be waiting. And I really shouldn’t even be here, as I should be spending some time with my family. After all, that’s why my parents and siblings came all the way to London. It’s just more nonsense though. I’ve seen my family every day for seventeen years now. Everything’s been said. But my mother has been crying the whole time and my sister bawls alongside her in accompaniment. My father’s wallowing in self-pity for sending me to New Zealand, and my brother is so jealous he’d like nothing better than to strangle me. I can’t wait for us to push off. What about you? Did no one come for you?” Gwyneira looked around. Everywhere else in steerage, people were weeping and wailing. Parting gifts were exchanged, final well wishes relayed. Many of these families would be forever separated by this departure.