The Loss of the Marion

by Linda Abbott

  “We’re good for a while,” Nellie said. She’d wondered when the subject would arise. “Don’t give it another thought.”

  Sam lowered his head and glanced sideways at his brother. Joe made eye contact with him, then quickly looked away.

  “What’s going on between you two?” Nellie said.

  Joe stuffed his mouth with food. “Nothing.”

  “Tell me what the stares are about,” she said.

  Sam kept his head down. “Joe, Ma has a right to know.”

  “One of you tell me,” Nellie said in a sharper tone than she’d intended.

  Joe looked at her. Nellie saw a faint glimmer of the boy he had been when Harry was alive. She shivered. “Pa’s gone,” he said. “It’s my job to support the family now. I was thirteen two weeks ago, old enough to fish on the Banks. I’ve signed up on the Sherman. She leaves tomorrow.”

  “Don’t go,” Bessie cried out. “You won’t come back, like Pa and Uncle Tommy!”

  Marie’s deep green eyes swelled with tears. “And like my pa, too.”

  Joe shook his head. “I made up my mind. Pa would want me to take care of the family.”

  Nellie’s mouth went dry. “I’m proud you want to look after us, but you could do it by working at one of the fish plants or the lobster cannery.”

  “No, Ma. I wants to go fishing like Pa.”

  “I know nothing I say will stop you from going.” Nellie stabbed a lump of brewis with her fork. “So there’s no use wasting my time.”

  Sam raised his head for the first time. “Joe is doing what he can to help out. Don’t be mad at him. I’d go too, if I was old enough.”

  Nellie fought back tears. “Eat before your supper gets cold.”

  Her sons had been forced to become men before their time. Dottie’s anguished cry echoed in her head: It’s not fair. Nellie attacked another lump of brewis. Fairness had nothing to do with a fisherman’s lot in life, or that of his family. The meal progressed in silence. Nellie wondered if the carefree chatter would ever return. Bessie left her plate half-full. No one touched the coconut cream pie.

  “I’m gonna cut wood for the stove,” Joe said.

  “I’ll help,” Sam said, following him outside.

  Nellie threw down her fork. “Bessie, Marie, wash the dishes. I have an errand to run.” She grabbed a shawl from the hook on the door and left without another word.

  Denis Burke was once again sifting through papers when Nellie barged into his office.

  “Mrs. Myles . . .”

  “I have something to say,” Nellie said, cutting him off. “Have you any notion about how the widows of the Marion are struggling to survive, with no money?” She stomped to his desk. “Do you even care?”

  “We—”

  “Anyone claim the ‘handsome reward’ yet?”

  Denis blinked. “Ah . . . no.”

  “Put it to good use, then. Give it to the widows and orphans.”

  Denis’s jaw dropped. “That isn’t how business is done,” he said finally.

  Nellie placed her hands on the desk and leaned toward him. “Seventeen strong, hardy men disappeared on your schooner under very mysterious circumstances. It’s the least you could do.”

  Denis moved back in his chair. “Really, Mrs. Myles. I’ve never heard the likes before.”

  “I thought so. You merchants pay a pittance to fishermen for all their hard work catching and salting the fish. You own the general store where we buy your goods, so you get back all the money anyways.”

  “You make that sound like a crime. Mrs. Myles, my family has suffered in this as well. We’ve lost a schooner. Can you even imagine the amount of money it takes to build or buy another one? I won’t bore you with the considerable profits we’re out of as a result of the Marion.” Denis waved a sheet full of figures in front of Nellie’s face. “If we merchants don’t make money, then we can’t supply our general stores or keep the fish factories open. What would the community do without those?”

  Nellie slapped the paper out of Denis’s hand. “The only reason you started an investigation weeks after the schooner didn’t return was because of pressure from the grieving families.” Red blotches flushed Nellie’s cheeks. “Don’t take me for a fool about the so-called handsome reward. If anybody had information about the Marion, they would have come forward in the beginning, reward or no. You and your family knew that.” Nellie paused to catch her breath. “Don’t sit in your fancy chair in your big office and tell me a load of bull about profit and loss. Money means nothing when human beings are involved.”

  “Mrs. Myles, please be reasonable. My brothers and I understand the community’s grief.”

  “What a pile of shit! You have to experience grief first-hand to truly understand it. Who did you lose on the Marion?” Nellie glared at the man. “Don’t compare your loss of profit to this community’s loss of men.” She turned and stormed out of the office. This time she didn’t touch the door. Her shawl hung off one shoulder as she left the building and headed for the convent.

  Mother Patrick answered Nellie’s pounding on the door.

  “What are you in such a state about?” she asked. “You look like you’re ready to take on the world.”

  “Just the Burkes,” Nellie said, and related her visit to their office. “It was like talking to a chicken. All they do is squawk and say nothing.”

  Mother Patrick laughed. “My dear Nellie, that’s how it is. The Burkes are no worse than any other merchant family. Although, to give them their due, at times they are better.”

  Nellie folded her arms across her chest. “I don’t want to talk about them any more. Joe announced at supper he’s going fishing on the Banks the day after tomorrow. He says we need the money.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. But he was determined to go anyway.”

  “If I stand in his way, he’ll be more stubborn to go. That’s why I’ll pack his bag like I did for Harry.” Nellie’s voice quivered. “It’s been near two months and I still can’t believe he’s dead.”

  “The worst part about the whole affair,” Mother Patrick said, “is not knowing what happened.”

  “No, the worst part is not being able to prove what we suspect. Maybe someday one of the French crew will find a backbone and tell the truth.”

  “Don’t hold your breath, Nellie.”

  Nellie took her leave, muttering to herself about greedy merchants. Joe was still chopping wood and she stopped to watch him.

  “I wants to make sure you have enough while I’m gone,” he said, swinging the axe down on a log.

  The logs shattered. Like my heart, Nellie thought. “That’s right good of you,” she said. “I’ll get your bag ready.”

  Joe split another log. “Ma, I’m sorry I upset ya.”

  “I understand. Just take care of yourself. That’s all I want.” Nellie brushed past her son into the house so he wouldn’t see her tears.

  Marie sat in the armchair by the fireplace reading Alice in Wonderland. The convent contained a substantial library to which the community had access.

  “Where’s Bessie?” Nellie asked.

  “Lying down. She’s got a sore throat and is shivery all over.”

  Nellie found Bessie wrapped up in a quilt. “My throat,” Bessie began, but a fit of coughing choked off her words.

  Nellie felt her flushed cheeks. “You’re a little warm. I’ll get some water and molasses to ease the burning in your throat.”

  “Ma, will Joe come home again?”

  “God willing,” Nellie uttered, the only thing she could bring herself to say.

  She tucked Bessie under the covers and placed a glass of water by her bedside, then began to prepare Joe’s bag, trying not to think about the last one she’d packed for Harry. The memory pushed thro
ugh to the surface and, breathless, she dropped to the edge of the bed. Bessie coughed, a loud and congested hack. Nellie took a deep breath and said under her breath, “You don’t have time to pity yourself, Nellie Myles. There are youngsters to look after.”

  Bessie held up an empty water jug. “I’m thirsty,” she croaked.

  Nellie helped Bessie undress, then brought up more water and a jar of molasses. Bessie began to cry, tears rolling down her flushed cheeks. “Ma, nothing will ever be the same without Pa.”

  “I know, sweetie,” Nellie said, using Harry’s pet name for his daughter.

  Joe had to be up extra early, so the entire household went to bed at eight. Each time Bessie coughed, Nellie went to check on her. The noise didn’t wake Marie. As the stars faded into pinpoints against the brightening sky, Nellie finally fell asleep. Her eyes flickered open when the sun shone across the room and danced on her hair. The smell of cooking filled the room.

  Joe smiled at her when she came into the kitchen. “I got up early and lit the stove,” he said. Porridge bubbled in a pot. “Started breakfast, too.”

  “And put out the dishes as well,” Nellie said, her eyes moving to the table.

  Nellie took over the breakfast duties and stirred the porridge. “Everyone’s a bit nervous their first time out on the Banks.”

  “I’m excited, too.”

  “I can see that,” Nellie said, resolved to stifle all traces of worry. “Call the others down. They won’t want to miss seeing you off.”

  Joe’s face shone like a lighthouse beacon. “Thanks, Ma,” he said, and bounded out of the kitchen.

  At the table, Bessie played with her food. She sneaked glances at Joe, yet said nothing. Nellie wanted her to stay home, but Bessie insisted on seeing her brother to the schooner. Yesterday Annie said she’d stay home to help Dottie, yet Nellie knew the real reason had more to do with not wanting to watch Joe sail away.

  “Don’t worry about me, Ma,” Joe said at the dock. “I’ll be home in two weeks.”

  Nellie smiled. “God keep you safe.”

  Bessie hugged her brother until he had to pry her arms from around his neck. “The days will pass so fast you won’t know I’m gone.”

  The Sherman was out of sight before Nellie and the children turned away and headed back for St. Jacques. Bessie coughed in harsh, guttural barks. Her face burned bright red, her eyes watered, and she gagged as cough after cough choked her breath away.

  “I’m all right,” Bessie wheezed, before another bout of coughing racked her body.

  Annie and Dr. Fitzgerald were waiting in the kitchen with Sam when Nellie, Bessie, and Marie got home. Before they went to see Joe off, Nellie had asked Sam to see if Dr. Fitzgerald could come see Bessie today.

  “Get Bessie in bed,” he said, the second he heard her cough. “Sam and Marie, stay down here.”

  Nellie had never heard Dr. Fitzgerald speak with such urgency before. She was startled when Bessie didn’t resist going to bed.

  The doctor looked down Bessie’s throat and sounded out her lungs. “Mrs. Myles, she needs plenty of fluids. Please fetch her some water.” Bessie drank half a glass before heavy coughing stopped her.

  Nellie smoothed the hair away from her daughter’s damp forehead. “You’ll feel better after a good rest.”

  Dr. Fitzgerald closed his black bag. “Drink as much of the water as you can,” he said.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Nellie asked as soon as they were in the hallway.

  “I think it’s pneumonia.”

  Nellie fell back against the wall with relief. “I’ve been real scared it was consumption, especially since Charlie Whittle. I can’t lose Bessie,” she said quietly.

  “Then we’ll both make sure you don’t.” The doctor smiled reassuringly. “The good news is that only one lung is affected. She has a dry cough and a low-grade fever. Keep her warm and make sure she drinks plenty of water.”

  Nellie poked a strand of hair behind her ear. “She hardly touched her supper last night or her breakfast this morning.”

  “Give her soup. She needs to keep her strength up to fight off the infection.” Dr. Fitzgerald closed his medical bag. “As a precaution, keep the youngsters away from her for a while.”

  “Marie can sleep with me.”

  “If Bessie gets worse, or if you’re concerned for any reason, send for me no matter what time of day or night.” He smiled again to reassure her. “Bessie’s young and strong.”

  “I’ll get back to Dottie and the twins,” Annie said, and left with Dr. Fitzgerald.

  Nellie closed Bessie’s window and saw Annie and the doctor chatting. She thought nothing of it and rubbed warm goose grease on Bessie’s chest, a remedy her mother swore by for chest ailments. Her daughter fell asleep and Nellie spent the day on a chair by her bedside, only taking time to prepare dinner and supper. Marie did the dishes so she could hurry back to Bessie. Near dawn, Bessie awoke, her nightgown and bedsheets soaked in sweat. She drifted back to sleep after Nellie put a fresh gown on her and changed the bed.

  Dr. Fitzgerald dropped by when Nellie was making breakfast. “Her temperature’s the same,” he said. “Continue bedrest and fluids.”

  Sam and Marie came into the kitchen seconds after the doctor left. “Is Bessie gonna be all right?” Sam asked.

  Nellie put pancakes on the table. “She’s the same. Eat your breakfast while I bring her up some soup.”

  Bessie coughed mucus into a handkerchief as Nellie entered the room. “Ma, my chest hurts.”

  “That’s because you’re coughing so much,” Nellie said, laying the tray on Bessie’s lap. “I made some nice hot chicken soup for you.”

  Bessie slurped one spoonful but couldn’t manage a second. “I’m not hungry, Ma,” she said, and sank back into the pillows.

  Nellie placed the tray on the side table. “I’ll leave it here in case you get hungry later.”

  The children were gone, the table cleared, and the dishes washed when Nellie returned to the kitchen. A lump formed in her throat. She swallowed it away as Guy Hays knocked on the kitchen door.

  “Guy,” Nellie said. “This is a surprise. Come in for a cuppa tea.”

  Guy took off his salt and pepper hat. “Much obliged, Nellie,” he said.

  She set two mugs on the table, along with a slice of coconut cream pie. She watched Guy put in three spoonfuls of sugar and enough Carnation milk to turn the tea white. He bit into the pie. “This has to be one of Annie’s.”

  “Congratulations on your wedding. Annie told me it was lovely, and she was tickled to meet your mother’s parents. She was more than a bit relieved your mother could speak English.”

  Guy half-smiled. “It wasn’t the same without Tommy there.” He pushed away the partially eaten pie. “Annie’s taking real good care of Fred’s twins. Ma says it’s a shame she never had her own.”

  “That’s a fact,” Nellie said.

  “Me and Chiselle got back from St. Pierre today.”

  “It was real nice that you got to have a bit of a honeymoon,” Nellie said. “What brings you by?”

  “We delivered a message to Mother Patrick from Father Jean-Claude. She told me about your visit to St. Pierre, and that’s why I’m here.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “François, a cousin on my mother’s side, is part of Captain Maurice’s crew. I had some interesting chat with him about the Marion.”

  Nellie’s heart fluttered. “You found out something?”

  “François said it spooked him the way Maurice hated Ike. Lots of men get beat up in a fight and don’t go crazy like Maurice.” Guy put his elbows on the table. “François wasn’t on board the day the trawler set after the Marion. He says the crew have been mumbling about nothing else since then. Nothing was said out loud, but Fra
nçois thinks Captain Maurice scuttled the Marion and took off.”

  Nellie felt sick to her stomach. “If no one’s said anything for sure, why does your cousin think that?”

  “Captain Maurice could sail around the iron channel markers blindfolded. He even did it one time to show off. In all his years on the ocean, that was the first time he hit one.”

  “The French police said he struck the iron marker.”

  “I said the same to my cousin. He had a mighty good explanation.”

  “What?”

  “Who’s to say he didn’t ram the Marion first, then hit the marker to cover the damage of what he’d done?”

  “I was convinced he was guilty,” Nellie said. “Yet somewhere inside me I wanted him to be innocent. I wanted Harry’s and Tom’s death to be an accident. That’s easier to accept, to live with.” She stared at her mug. “How could the crew let him get away with it?”

  “Captain Maurice is a powerful and influential man in St. Pierre. He could put the men out of work if they went against him. They have to think of their families first.”

  “Can we prove any of this?”

  “François only told me because we’re related and because I was supposed to be on the Marion when she went missing. I was going fishing even though Dr. Fitzgerald said I wasn’t well enough, with the flu. Tommy convinced me to hang on another week, said it wouldn’t put me in the poorhouse.” Guy’s voice broke. “I’m alive because of my best friend.”

  “We owe it to Tom and all the others to find out the truth.”

  “If Captain Maurice scuttled the Marion, his crew won’t own up to it. Not if they want to continue feeding their families.”

  “Then why tell me all this?”

  “Because Mother Patrick told me you want to go back to St. Pierre to talk to the trawler’s crew. But now you know as much as anyone, without putting yourself in harm’s way.”

  Nellie heard Marie’s voice drift in through the window. “Seventeen innocent men died because of one man’s hatred for another. Marie has to be sheltered from the guilt and shame of that.”