by Zina Abbott
Wilhelm wrinkled his head in consternation.
What is the English word for wife?
Thomas nodded in acknowledgement. “Aye, I know you will, lad. You’ve got a good trade, not like these eejits in steerage, Irish lads though some of them be. Our Bridget is a pretty colleen. I’ve heard enough of their blather and trying to get my girl off by themselves. Their intentions towards her are no better than those of the English toff you room with. Protecting her from the rotters has left both her ma and me knackered, now hasn’t it?”
Wilhelm bristled at the realization some of the men in steerage made improper advances towards Bridget. “With the captain I speak.”
“Aye. ’Tis best she marry a good man, now isn’t it?”
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CARIBBEAN – EARLY MARCH 1850
CHAPTER 10
~o0o~
“Marry her? ’Tis a certainty you’ve gone soft in the head, Wilhelm.” Edward turned to the mostly male audience in the second-class common room and spoke in English. “The man’s addle-brained. He wants to marry the Irish chit.”
The comment, which Wilhelm understood better than Edward realized, started most of the men chuckling and shaking their heads. One or two hollered jests his way.
Wilhelm inhaled through his nose as he straightened his spine. Ignoring the heckling, he walked over to the French-speaking American who sat slouched off to the side. Wilhelm knew he listened even though the man pretended he paid no attention to the scene. Wilhelm sat down across from him and spoke in French. “What is the English word for wife?”
Wilhelm suppressed a grimace when he heard the American say the word. It was another one of those infernal English words that started with the “wah” sound.
The American continued in French. “If you want the ship’s captain to marry you, you have to do it while we are still on the high seas. He loses his authority to marry once he’s in port or even in a nation’s coastal waters. I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into. Americans don’t like the Irish any better than the Brits do.”
The comment set Wilhelm’s teeth on edge. It seemed no matter what land he were to settle in, people found fault with those who were different—different countries, different languages, different religions. He knew it was the same among the German states. After all, did his father not order him to leave to avoid the war between the Bavarians and the Prussians, much of the dispute being over religious differences? It was at that point Wilhelm decided he would not settle in an area with predominately German-speaking people. Most likely they were Lutheran or Reformed. He anticipated running up against some discrimination in America just from being German-speaking, but he would not tolerate it from other Germans. He and his Irish wife would take their chances elsewhere.
Wilhelm practiced saying “wife” to himself while at the same time reviewing in his mind the proper grammar for how to ask the captain about buying a cabin ticket and making arrangements for the marriage.
Edward, realizing the nature of the conversation, joined them with a sigh of resignation. “Wilhelm, if you’re determined to do this, I’ll help you.”
Until their supper arrived, the three continued to discuss when and how to approach the captain and what to inquire about first. Afterward, the three of them walked to the front of the ship and asked a steward for permission to speak with the captain.
After waiting until the captain finished dining with the first-class passengers, the trio joined him in his cabin. Using a combination of German, French and English, Wilhelm discovered that the captain would not know of any passengers from the Bahamas wishing to board until he arrived in Nassau. He and Wilhelm haggled over the price of Bridget’s ticket, the captain being less-than-happy about a steerage passenger upgrading to second-class. A sticking point seemed to be Bridget’s original ticket included her ration of food for the entire trip. Wilhelm insisted what food remained would stay with her family, while the fare he paid for her to come up to the cabins would include her meals in the eating saloon the same as if she boarded in Nassau.
Rather than take his chances on an unknown passenger, Edward agreed to move to a different cabin—the one with the Scot and fellow gambling associate who would be left with no cabin-mate when the old gentleman disembarked in Nassau.
The captain focused on Wilhelm and spoke in his British accent while Edward quietly translated the words into German. “Tomorrow at three o’clock, have her and your witnesses at my cabin. If it’s not taken care of then, I’ll be too busy until after I leave the island. But she can’t stay with you until the room is available. She’ll need to stay in steerage.” The man waved his dismissal and turned away.
Wilhelm left the captain’s quarters with mixed emotions. He resented the man’s lack of enthusiasm over the prospect of performing the marriage. However, Wilhelm pushed his annoyance aside as he contemplated what really mattered. In one more day, Bridget would become his wife.
~o0o~
The next morning, after breaking his fast, Wilhelm motioned for the French-speaking American to join him as he stepped out on deck. He didn’t know if it was because the ship was getting closer to land, or if it was because they were in a more tropical climate, but he could sense the difference in the atmosphere from even a few days earlier. A quick look around confirmed the Ryan family was nowhere in sight.
Wilhelm wanted to give the family as much warning as he could. Unsure of the reception he would receive in steerage, he steeled himself for the foray down there. He turned to the American and requested in French that he wait for him on deck.
Just as he started down, a voice closer than Wilhelm expected hollered up from the darkness. “Out of my way, mate.” Wilhelm stepped aside and allowed the man to pass him. He then continued down to the steerage deck that, in spite of a few lit lanterns, put him in mind of the bowels of hell. The odor of unwashed bodies cramped close together combined with the stink of rotting wood, uncirculated air, and rodent feces almost overwhelmed him. Two steps from the bottom, Wilhelm searched the crowd for the Ryan family. He was met with several curious, and a few threatening, stares.
Movement next to the foot of one of the double-level bunks caught Wilhelm’s attention. Thomas climbed down from a top bunk and, as he wended his way through the throng, motioned for Wilhelm to return topside. Before he obeyed the instructions of the man who would become his father-in-law before the day was over, Wilhelm glanced at the foot of the bed long enough to see the curious faces of Bridget, Patrick and John watching him.
On the top deck, with the help of the American, Wilhelm explained the arrangements for the wedding and the cabin for him and Bridget.
Thomas nodded with understanding. “Aye, ’twill have to do, now won’t it? Mrs. Ryan will have our Bridget ready.”
After the pair returned to the saloon, Wilhelm nodded to Edward, already entangled in another game of cards. He took the opportunity to retreat to the privacy of his cabin to get ready for his marriage. Although he hated washing in seawater, he would clean up later and change into a fresh shirt. First, he needed to prepare his wedding gift for Bridget.
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ONE DAY FROM NASSAU – EARLY MARCH 1850
CHAPTER 11
~o0o~
Assuring the door to his cabin was secured, Wilhelm unlocked the small trunk, the one in which he kept his jewelry-making tools, gold and other precious metals and gems. It also contained his mother’s locket. Pulling out only what he needed, he once again locked the trunk.
Turning the lantern to full flame, Wilhelm studied the locket as he rubbed it with a soft cloth. By doing so, he once again recalled the scene with his father that fateful night in Pforzheim when he had been so angry over Josef taking his place in the family’s shop, and his father insisting he flee to America to escape being forced into the Bavarian army.
~o0o~
Wilhelm huffed in disbelief
. “And so you are sending me away from our family and from my place in the family business…”
“And away from the Bavarian army that would destroy your gift by turning you into cannon fodder.”
“…to start with nothing on my own on the other side of the world?”
Heinrich shook his head. “No, my son. Not with nothing. You will always have my love and the love of your mother. Here…” From the inside of his trousers where he kept it hidden, he pulled out a small leather pouch and untied the strings securing it to his belt. After opening it, with nimble fingers he dug inside and pulled out a necklace which he dangled from its chain. “Your mother sent this to give to you. Our decision was a difficult one to make, one that left her almost heartbroken, in spite of her desire to protect your sister from her folly. She wished me to tell you her love will always be with you.”
Wilhelm recognized the locket immediately. It was the one his mother wore constantly, usually inside her gown next to her heart. He knew the story. His father had made it for her as a wedding gift. On the front was a single heart surrounded by a flowering vine. On the back, the inscription read, “My heart is always with you.”
Heinrich moved the locket closer to Wilhelm. He nodded his head, encouraging Wilhelm to accept it, which Wilhelm did, his fingers shaking with emotion.
Heinrich handed Wilhelm the pouch in which he carried the locket before he once again sat on the chair. Taking advantage of his son’s silence, he explained the plan he had put together for his second born. “You will be on your own once you leave the continent, but you will not go with nothing. I am sending your inheritance with you, as much as I have been able to gather. In addition to funds to get you started, once I knew about Inge and Josef, I began ordering extra watch parts and gold supplies to send. You have your tools, yes?”
Hesitantly, Wilhelm resumed his seat on the edge of his bed. “Of course.”
“We will travel together up the Rhine River to Antwerp where I will buy whatever else you need in tools and supplies for your own shop. From there, I will get you ship passage to Liverpool, England. Once at that port, enough Englishmen know German or French so you will be able to communicate. It will be an easy matter to find a ship to take you to America.”
Still trying to absorb everything his father told him, Wilhelm rubbed his face with both hands. “I cannot believe this is the best option for me.”
Heinrich stepped towards his son and rested his hand on Wilhelm’s shoulder. “I know accepting this is hard, especially since it is not your idea and I gave you no say in the decision. I dared not write about my plans. Neither did I risk making a trip here and directly back home earlier to discuss it with you for fear of being followed or my movements traced. You must trust that I love you, and I know this is your best choice. You will hold close the love of your family and a small part of Bavaria. However, for your own happiness and to possibly save your life, you must go where I am sending you. It is bad enough Horst and Johann must go to war. As much as I prefer to see the Austrian king instead of Prussia’s rule a unified Germany, I will not also give you up to the Bavarian army to possibly be slaughtered by the Prussians.”
Wilhelm swallowed and stared at his father. Whether he agreed or not, what other options did he have? Follow countless landless, trade-less, jobless Germans into the army to fight the wars decreed by the nobility?
The heaviness in Heinrich’s heart revealed itself in his final sigh. “I must go now, Wilhelm. No one must know I am in Pforzheim or where you are going. If someone asks, tell them Hesse. When you awaken, pack all your things and prepare to leave for good. You have one last day to settle things up here, and then tomorrow night we board our boat bound for Antwerp.”
~o0o~
As Wilhelm stared at his mother’s locket, he realized his father had been right. Traveling to America had been the best choice for him. If not for that, he never would have met Bridget. Certainly, if he had returned to his father’s shop, he may have married a woman from his home town. However, as he thought back on the girls and young women he had known before he left to begin his apprenticeship, none struck him as someone he could give his heart to the way he had given it to Bridget.
He grazed his finger across the design on the front before he turned the locket over and read the inscription etched there by his father for his mother years before. He knew without opening it what he would find inside, for his mother had shown him the portraits of a younger Heinrich and Johanna Mueller several times when she related the stories behind them. Now the locket was his but not for long.
Just as his father gave it to his mother as a wedding gift, Wilhelm intended the locket as a wedding gift for Bridget. Indeed, his heart would always be with her.
First, he must make it a gift from him. To do that, he would add his initials. He had already designed his mark for his completed works. The watches he assembled from scratch as a journeyman—not the ones assembled by others he merely repaired—already bore his mark. It was a combination of his initials—W and M—etched at an angle with the points of the two letters joining to form a diamond shape, reminiscent of the Bavarian flag comprised of alternating blue and white diamonds with the tops pointing to the left at forty-five degree angles.
Wilhelm braced his body and his work table against the roll of the ship. Below the initial “H” for Heinrich, he began to etch his mark. Yes, with a remnant of the Bavarian flag as part of his mark, he would always have a bit of Bavaria with him, as would anyone else who bought watches and jewelry crafted by him.
Once he gave the locket to Bridget after they married, she would become the first person in America to own a small portion of his Bavaria. She already owned his heart.
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ONE DAY FROM NASSAU – EARLY MARCH 1850
CHAPTER 12
~o0o~
Several hours later, Wilhelm checked his watch and eyed the opening leading to steerage. Many of the steerage passengers were on the top deck enjoying the sun and fresh air, but he did not see Bridget or her parents.
Patrick Ryan broke away from the family with the three children Bridget shared her roll with those many weeks before and ran to Wilhelm. “Da says to tell you they’re getting her ready. Sure it is they’ll be up soon. John and me are to stay out from underfoot.”
Wilhelm nodded his thanks to his soon-to-be young brother-in-law and began to walk back and forth across the deck. He wanted this marriage, but that didn’t stop him from being nervous about it.
“You’ll wear a hole in the deck with all your pacing. She’ll be here soon enough.”
Wilhelm turned to face Edward who, as was often his habit, sneaked up behind him. “I know. I’m aware you don’t approve of this wedding. Are you still willing to stand as my witness?”
Edward laughed. “As long as word doesn’t get home to his nibs back at the mill, I’ll stand with you, Wilhelm. You’re a strange one, but I suppose that comes with being German.”
“Bavarian.”
“Right. Make you a deal, Wilhelm. I won’t confuse you with other Germanic people as long as you don’t confuse this Englishman as being Scottish, Irish or Welsh—fractious peoples, the lot of them.” Although Edward spoke with humor, his words once again reminded Wilhelm of the man’s snobbish attitude. In spite of it, for being willing to teach him English, Edward proved to have been a good companion. Once they were in New Orleans, they would part ways and probably never see each other again.
At Edward’s nod of his head, Wilhelm turned his attention to the hatch leading down to steerage. Thomas Ryan stood on deck with his hand outstretched to help Mary Ryan up the stairs. Mrs. Ryan moved off to the side as her two youngest rushed to her side. She offered them a quick hug before she shepherded them towards the family with the children with whom they were playing.
Wilhelm sensed something different about the older Ryans. Then he realized, like him, they had washed up. Thomas had shaved and donned a clean
shirt, one he had perhaps been saving for after he arrived in America. Mary Ryan wore a whiter mop cap and fichu around her neck.
Wilhelm heard a low whistle of appreciation from Edward as he watched Thomas help Bridget up the last few steps onto the deck. She wore a cotton dress he had never seen before. The pale robin’s egg blue with vertical cream-colored stripes brought out the blue in her eyes and offset her clear, pink complexion. Although he could tell she did not wear a hoop or a multitude of petticoats as he knew was the style, the way the bodice hugged her body and the skirt draped from her waist suited her more than the costliest silk gown over the widest hoop.
Instead of a fichu, a high neckline edged with a narrow piece of lace framed her face. Most importantly, the mop cap was gone. Bridget’s hair, even more soft and curly than he remembered, he guessed to have been recently washed. In spite of being pulled back on the sides and held in place with combs, bouncing coils framed her face. The longer locks tumbled down the back of her head. A white cloth edged with a simple crochet stitch out of white thread was pinned to the top of her head. Even though they were not yet saying their wedding mass in the Catholic Church where a proper head covering would be mandatory for her, no doubt the family still believed she should have one for the shipboard wedding.
Wilhelm felt the air leave his lungs, as if someone had smacked him hard in the chest. Unable to take his eyes off the woman who would soon become his wife, Wilhelm offered her his arm. He glanced in Edward’s direction, surprised that for once his cabin-mate had abandoned his smirk. The man’s expression held what Wilhelm hoped was a measure of acceptance, if not respect. Behind him stood the French-speaking American who Wilhelm had also invited to attend the marriage.
Thomas Ryan kept his voice low so only Wilhelm and Bridget could hear. “Don’t be paying the rotters any mind. ’Tis jealous, they are.”