At the end of the corridor, he opened a cabin door and stepped aside.
“Here you are.”
She walked into a modest room equipped with two beds, one above the other, on the left. To the right, a small bench was attached to the wall. At the rear of the room stood a tiny table with a washbasin and pitcher. The space between the beds and the bench was so narrow that it pressed against the sides of her full skirt. She could not take four complete steps from the door without running into the table. Still, her accommodations were far superior to that of the other passengers. On her own, she would not have been able to justify the expense of more than a steerage passage. As Mrs. Swenson’s companion, she had been permitted to upgrade her ticket to first class at no extra cost. She turned to thank the captain for his generosity.
He had entered the room behind her.
“Oh!” As he leaned toward her, he seemed to fill the room. She took a step back. “I…uh…” He stood so close.
“There you go.” His breath tickled her cheek as he leaned toward her and set her carpetbag on the lower bed. The next moment, he stepped backward out of the room.
She released a breath.
He pinched the brim of his hat. “If you will excuse me, Miss Brooks, I’ve work to do before we shove off.”
Eliza’s cheeks warmed as the captain strode away. He had been depositing her bag. Of course. How silly of her to have been nervous. Taking a deep breath, she gave herself a gentle shake to erase the last hint of lingering nerves. She unsnapped her carpetbag and began setting her new living quarters to rights.
Eliza inspected the room. Had she forgotten anything? Her writing utensils were on the table. Why had she entrusted Cecilia with Uncle Henry’s letter? She would need to write a new one, but she couldn’t stomach the task now. Her bonnet hung on a hook in the ship’s wall. Mama’s Bible sat atop her pillow. Eliza’s nightdress was laid out beneath the blanket on her bed. She’d emptied and reorganized her carpetbag to assure the best access to the items she would need during her brief stay on board. She patted the clasp. Everything was in order. With nothing else to do, she withdrew her copy of Woman in the Nineteenth Century, sat on the bench, and began to read.
A while later, Eliza checked her pocket watch. Five minutes till noon and still no sign of Mrs. Swenson. After closing her book and setting it on the table, Eliza went to the door and pulled it open. As she stepped into the corridor, a steward rounded the corner. The oil wall lamps flickered, casting shadows across the walls.
“Afternoon, miss.” The steward stopped to bow.
“Good afternoon. I wonder if you can tell me whether Mrs. Swenson is now on board.”
“I’m sorry. I have not seen her.”
What could be keeping her?
“I’ve been busy below dealing with a disturbance among those in the…” The steward shuddered. “The lower births. I’m now here to check on the cabins. Is yours satisfactory, miss? Is there anything you need?”
“My cabin is lovely. Thank you.” Eliza paused. “Would you please inform me when Mrs. Swenson has arrived?”
“Of course. Although, I should warn you. When she has sailed with the captain in the past, she has always been the last aboard and the first to disembark. And once aboard, she spends her time up top.” He leaned toward her and whispered. “They say she doesn’t enjoy sailing!”
The man’s scandalized expression threatened her composure. She covered her mouth.
She’d met many who were less than enthusiastic about their voyages to San Francisco. After hearing their tales, she had her own reservations regarding the journey before her. Her steps on the Virginia that day had been her first aboard a seafaring vessel. God willing, the stomach that had held steady during her voyages on much smaller, river-bound ships would remain as calm and unflustered once they were in the open waters of the Pacific.
She thanked the steward for his information, handed him a coin, and repeated her request to be informed of Mrs. Swenson’s arrival.
“I shall inform you the moment she steps aboard, miss.” After a bow, the steward continued checking each cabin in her corridor—all of which appeared to be empty—before he exited toward the dining room.
Eliza returned to her seat and her reading.
A few minutes later, there was a knock on her door. At last. She set aside her book and hurried to open the door.
The same steward stood in the corridor.
She searched the hall behind him. Empty. “Is Mrs. Swenson up top?”
“No, miss. But I thought you would like to know that the ship’s departure will be delayed an hour or more due to the mail not being ready yet. I think it likely Mrs. Swenson will wait for the mail to arrive before boarding.”
Eliza thanked the steward and returned, once more, to her reading.
After several chapters, her concentration gave out. She read the same paragraph twice with no memory of what she had read. She closed the book with a sigh. Stretching to return the book to her bag, Eliza fell from her chair as the ship moved beneath her. She placed a steadying hand on the bar connecting the two beds and managed to right herself. As she absorbed the strange sensation of the large vessel swaying beneath her, the truth hit her like a plank to the chest.
They had departed!
Chapter 7
Once above, Eliza scoured the Virginia for Mrs. Swenson but could not spy her among the growing crowd of passengers. Captain Swenson stood near the stern of the ship, giving orders to one of his crew. She marched across the gently swaying deck.
Never interrupt a man while he’s working.
The memory of Cecilia’s chiding stopped Eliza in her tracks a few feet short of the captain. She sidled into his line of sight, then waited for him to finish his instructions. Her foot tapped the smooth decking.
A moment later, the captain dismissed his crewman. He stepped toward her. “Miss Brooks, I was just coming in search of you.”
“We’ve set off.” Eliza pointed to the passing masts of ships still at anchor. “Please tell me your wife is aboard.”
“I’m so sorry, Miss Brooks.” The captain placed a hand on her shoulder. “As you know, my wife was ill.”
“I thought it was a headache.”
“That’s how it started, yes.” He clasped his hands behind him. “At the time I spoke with you, I had every confidence that she would recover in time to join you on this journey. However, there were some other…complications. I received word at the last possible moment that, in light of her illness, my wife had decided to put off her journey until such time as she is recovered.”
Heat warming her face, she splayed her arms. “Why did you not inform me immediately?”
“I have been quite busy with my duties as captain.” He scowled at her. “I had not the liberty to seek you out until this moment.”
Eliza lowered her arms, still clenching her jaw. “You could have sent the steward, or—”
“Every member of my crew has been busy preparing for this journey, or did you think the Virginia sailed herself?”
“Of course not. Forgive me.” She cringed and fiddled with her fingers behind her back. The captain had been nothing but kind to her. It wasn’t his fault his wife had changed her plans at the last minute. He must be as disappointed as Eliza that his wife was not aboard. She quit fiddling. “Of course you were busy. I am simply distressed, as I am now without a proper chaperone. Are there any other ladies aboard with whom I might spend my time?”
The captain’s expression softened. “I’m afraid not. The only other ladies aboard are… Well, let’s say they aren’t the sort your aunt and uncle would approve to keep you company. But do not be distressed, my dear Miss Brooks. There’ve been many female passengers aboard my ship without a chaperone before, and not a one has come to any harm.” He grinned. “With your own impeccable behavior and, if I may say, myself as your captain, I am certain your journey shall end as safely as theirs. Never fear.”
Physical safety was well and g
ood, but what about her reputation? Eliza opened her mouth to protest, but a crewman called for the captain.
The captain’s head swiveled toward the shout. “Please excuse me.” He gave a slight bow and hurried off.
The lightless Alcatraz lighthouse caught her eye as the ship sailed past it. The shadow of its windows reflected the gloom Mrs. Swenson’s absence cast on her journey. What was she to do? Despite her promise to Cecilia, she had hoped her reputation might be preserved. That she might one day return without bringing scandal upon her uncle.
Her vision blurred. Why must her attempts to protect those she loved always hurt another? She turned toward the rail to hide her teary eyes from the other passengers.
Mr. Clarke blocked her path.
She’s going to cry. Daniel’s breath caught.
He took a step toward her, but she moved around him.
“Wait.” He caught her arm.
She glared through unshed tears. “Unhand me, sir.”
He released her at once. What was he thinking? “Of course. I’m sorry. I only want to help.”
Her lips trembled. “You heard?”
He should have walked away when he realized the private nature of her conversation with the captain, but he found himself unable to move. She had been counting on the captain’s wife to act as her chaperone. Yet Mrs. Swenson was not aboard, and the captain displayed little concern. “I’m sorry.”
She shuffled past him to lean against the rail, staring across the bay. He joined her. A single tear trailed down her cheek. Clearly, more than Mrs. Swenson’s absence troubled her. What had happened to this strong woman that could cause such pain? The inappropriate urge to draw her into a comforting embrace had him leaning toward her. He handed her his kerchief instead.
She sniffed, wiped the tear away, and returned his kerchief. Straightening, she smoothed the wrinkles in her bodice and cleared her throat. “Thank you, Mr. Clarke, but there is nothing to be done. The ship has sailed.” Her mouth tipped at the corner, her eyes still sad. “Literally.”
With her soft pink lips, rose-tinged cheeks, and doleful brown eyes framed by long, dark lashes, she was…beautiful. And vulnerable. She ought to be at home with the Davidsons where she was safe and cared for, not standing alone on a ship filled with men of every class. He surveyed the deck. Several passengers were darting glances her way. A few were outright staring, as if she were a pie in the baker’s window and they hadn’t eaten in a month of Sundays.
He caught one man’s eye and glared until the audacious lout turned away. Heat grew within him as he turned back to Eliza. “You should not be here alone.”
She blinked. “I...” She placed her hands on her hips. “I have no choice.”
Don’t say it. This is the wrong approach. “Why did you not wait for your chaperone when you learned she was not aboard?” There had to have been some way she could have avoided placing herself in such a vulnerable position. “Why did you not arrange to meet Mrs. Swenson at her home so that you could travel together to the ship?”
Eliza’s lips grew thin, then moved without sound. Then her voice came through clenched teeth. “The captain assured me his wife would be on board. I expected that she would be here when I arrived, but she was not. Are you suggesting I would have stood better waiting on the wharf, Mr. Clarke?”
Ah. So she knew he’d witnessed the scene with the impudent young man.
Daniel sighed. “No. Of course not.” He rubbed the back of his neck. How had he gotten here? He had intended to offer her his protection during their journey, not to criticize her decisions. What was it about this woman that got him so turned around? He took a deep breath. “I only meant that it isn’t safe for a—” He caught himself. Confessing he found her beautiful could give the wrong impression in light of the offer he intended to make.
“A what, Mr. Clarke?” She raised an eyebrow at him.
He held his hands up. “What I meant—”
She cut him off with a wave of her hand. “Forget it. I don’t care to know what you meant.” She gave a hasty curtsy. “If you’ll excuse me.”
Eliza paced the tiny confines of her cabin. Two steps forward, turn, two steps back, turn, and repeat. It was hardly satisfying, but she could not make herself be still. Of all the impudent, arrogant... Arrrrgh! She kicked the wall. Thank goodness Mr. Clarke would be in steerage the rest of their journey. He should have been there this afternoon. The stewards must have been too busy with departure activities to notice and shoo him below.
The worst part was that he was right. If she’d met Mrs. Swenson at the captain’s home as Mr. Clarke suggested, she would have found out right away that her chaperone was too ill to accompany her. She could have...what? What would she have done? Returned to the Davidsons’ home to continue waiting? She jammed her hands beneath her arms. No. She couldn’t have done that.
She pulled Mama’s Bible from her bag and stroked its leather cover. “I’m sorry.” Her chin dropped. She had promised Mama she would take care of Pa in Mama’s stead. She’d never counted on him leaving her behind.
She slid off the bench to kneel beside the bed and repeat her now-regular prayer. “Dear Lord, please watch over Pa. Keep him safe until I can reach him. Help me to find him soon. Amen.” Just four more days and she’d be in San Diego.
That evening, Eliza exited her cabin and walked the corridor toward the upper dining saloon. The odors of wet, musty wood, burning oil, and boiled potatoes grew stronger as she entered the room. As elegantly decorated as any hotel Eliza had seen in San Francisco, the saloon was a long, narrow space in the middle of the ship. It was lined on either side with short corridors that led to first-class cabins. The soft glow of the oil lamps shone down on the upholstered sofas lining the outer walls as well as the long tables and chairs occupying the center of the room.
A few heads turned her way and the men stood. Eliza paused. As men comprised the majority of the passengers, it felt as if the entire room had stood for her. She fought the urge to duck her chin.
The captain beckoned her from beside his chair at the head of the first table. “I have a seat for you here, Miss Brooks.” He moved to stand beside the chair at his right and, when she was seated, pushed her in before returning to his seat.
There was a rumble and scraping of chairs as the rest of the men returned to their seats.
“Thank you.”
“My pleasure.” He lifted a hand toward the opposite end of the saloon. “Ah. I see the last of our guests have arrived.” Two men entered from a far corridor. As soon as they were seated, the captain lowered his head.
“O Almighty Lord, Who alone controls the skies and the raging sea. Preserve us, Your servants, from the dangers of this sea, that we may continue in thankful remembrance of Thy mercies, to praise and glorify Thy holy name. We thank Thee for this, Thy bounty and grace. In Thy holy name, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.”
She lifted her head and stared at the captain. His prayer had been delivered with the same volume and authority the preacher used in his Sunday sermons.
The captain shook out his napkin and set it on his lap. “Not to worry, now.”
He must have read her expression as dismay.
“I’ve got it all under control, but if I didn’t add in that bit asking for protection…well, after dinner, some of this lot”—he gestured toward the other passengers—“might accuse me of arrogance, and complain that by failing to ask protection, I’ve somehow angered God and doomed our ship.” He shrugged. “Now they’ve nothing to complain about and will leave me be, but you have nothing to worry about, my dear.”
My dear? Cecilia would be offended by such impertinence.
He patted her hand.
An unpleasant sensation slithered through her. With a small smile, she withdrew her hand and hid it in her lap. As she tried to compile an appropriate response, the steward appeared at her side with a platter of boiled potatoes.
She nodded her acceptance.
As the steward
served her, another member of the crew approached the captain and they conversed, saving her from responding to his outlandish remarks. Thank you, Lord.
She chewed a bite of potato as she surveyed her companions. There were about twenty men seated with her at the first table. Those seated nearest her were dressed in the finest manner of the latest fashion. The fashions of the guests near the end of the table—though all perfectly acceptable—were not quite so fine.
She was the lone female at the first table. Her chewing faltered.
Beyond the elderly gentleman seated across from her was the second table. Her gaze collided with that of Mr. Clarke, who faced her from his seat on its far side. She blinked. How could he afford a first-class ticket with a carpenter’s wages? She had not taken him for one of those fools who wasted their money living beyond their means. She must have been wrong.
He smiled and dipped his chin.
She appraised the second table as having the same number of guests. These guests were dressed in a similar level of fashion, suggesting they were each other’s equals. Near the end, there were three ladies seated among them.
No. Not ladies.
These women were dressed in bright shades of red, orange, and purple. Their bodices were opulently decorated, their necks enshrined with shimmering jewels. As the women guffawed and conversed loudly with the men beside them, it was clear how they had come by the money to purchase their first-class tickets. The clerk who sold them their tickets must not have realized what they were. Or else, he hadn’t cared.
One of the women glanced up and caught her staring. Eliza averted her gaze.
The captain was watching her.
A bit of potato clung to his dark beard. Should she tell him? Cecilia wouldn’t. Ordinarily, she wouldn’t give two figs for what Cecilia thought, but now that Eliza was traveling unescorted, it seemed wise to keep as close to the behavior of a lady as she could manage.
Waltz in the Wilderness Page 7