Leaving Ireland

by Ann Moore

  It was quiet again as the carriage swayed once more down the street, its wheels thumping over icy ruts. Outside, the young lamplighters were hard at work, moving cautiously down the sidewalks, stools tucked under their arms. Snow had begun to fall; it clung to the manes and tails of the big working horses, white steam billowing from their nostrils. Another couple of days like this, Reinders thought, and the carriages would be garaged, the horses harnessed to sledges instead. He had to admit that he loved the sight of the steaming horses pulling loads of fur-bundled passengers, the icy swoosh of runners gliding over packed snow. And the silence. Best of all, he liked the silence of a snowbound city. It was as if everyone were at sea, as if time had stopped and the world was at rest. Suddenly, the carriage stopped. Reinders looked out.

  “We’re here.” He climbed down, paid the driver, then helped them onto the sidewalk.

  The Harp appeared dark, but then he saw the warm glow of a hearth fire in the back, heard the muted sound of conversation, soft laughter. He nodded at the two young people by his side, reassuring them, then knocked loudly on the front door. Inside, conversation stopped. Heavy footsteps drew near and the door was opened by a powerfully built Irishman with a squashed nose.

  “We’re closed,” he growled. “But Merry Christmas to you anyway.”

  “Ogue?” Reinders asked quickly. “Mighty Ogue?”

  “Aye? Do I know you?”

  “Captain Reinders.” He removed his hat. “Liam invited us.”

  Ogue’s face spread into a great grin, and he practically scooped the three of them into the warm room.

  “Liam!” he called over his shoulder. “I believe God Himself has appeared.”

  The boy came barreling across the room and hurled himself into the captain’s arms before remembering his dignity and pulling himself up straight. His face beamed.

  “You came,” he said, then announced to the others, “He came! I knew you would,” he added confidently.

  Reinders reached down and ruffled the boy’s hair, unable to meet that wide grin with anything less than one of his own.

  “Wouldn’t have missed it,” he replied. “And I didn’t come empty-handed, either.”

  “Captain Reinders!” Grace wiped her hands on her apron, her face flushed from the fire and the ale, her eyes taking in the two young people standing hesitantly beside him. “Who’ve you brought with you, then?”

  But in that instant she knew who they were, and so did Lily, who’d come up quietly and now moved first to her daughter, then to her son, touching their faces with her fingertips as if they were made of glass.

  They reached out and touched her, too, touched her hair, her face, her shoulder, her arm, until she put those arms around them both and pulled them to her. A perfect silence fell over the room as they held each other, eyes tightly shut, and then Mary whispered, “Mama.”

  “Mama,” Solomon repeated, the word catching in his throat.

  Lily gripped them even tighter, then opened her eyes and turned to the other two children standing behind her.

  “Ruth.” She beckoned gently. “Samuel. Come here.”

  They came forward shyly, and all five looked at one another.

  “You big.” Mary smiled through her tears, touching the ribbon at the end of Ruth’s braid.

  “How you, Sam?” Solomon put his hand on the boy’s shoulder, feeling him through the cotton shirt, how real he was.

  “Good, Sol. Real good.” Samuel tried to look behind his older brother, eyes hopeful. “You got Papa?”

  The two older children stared at him, then hung their heads.

  “That’s all right,” Lily said immediately, chasing away her own pain. “It’s enough you here, you two.” She put a hand on the side of either face, then raised their chins with her fingertips until she could see their eyes clearly. “More than enough.”

  She took her children—all of her children—into arms that seemed long enough, strong enough to hold them all; she rocked them, soothed them as they wept, murmured words of comfort, of love, of thankfulness. They didn’t have to hold on anymore, she would do the holding on.

  Grace watched, unable to tear her eyes away, her own heart aching, until Dugan cleared his throat and said, “Will you join us at the table, Captain, and we’ll give this family a bit of time to themselves?”

  Reinders nodded and looked at Grace, watched as she struggled with her own longing, saw how she put it carefully aside and replaced it with joy for her friend. He was moved by this, but knew any words of comfort would be her undoing. He offered her his arm instead, and she took it, Liam clinging to the captain’s other hand, and together they followed Dugan back to the table.

  “Sean O’Malley, Captain. Grace’s brother. A pleasure to meet you at last, sir.” He grinned congenially, pumping Reinders’ hand.

  “Pleasure’s all mine.” Reinders liked him instantly, this charismatic young man who looked like Grace around the eyes.

  “I’m happy for the chance to thank you properly, Captain. For bringing my sister and the children safely across the sea to me here.”

  “Again—my pleasure.” Reinders glanced at Grace. “Your sister is quite an amazing person.”

  “Aye, and you should taste her cooking,” Sean confided.

  “He never will if you don’t shut up, now,” Dugan interrupted. “Sit here, Captain, please.” He motioned to the head of the table. “We’re honored to have you, sir.”

  “Thank you.” Reinders sat and nodded at the others, all watching him with interest. “Hello, Mary Kate,” he greeted the wide-eyed little girl sitting by her mother. “Remember me?”

  She nodded, then gave him a heartbreaking grin, complete with a missing tooth. “Aye, aye,” she said and waved.

  “Aye, aye.” He waved back.

  Dugan poured a full glass of dark frothy ale and set it before the captain. “Best wet your whistle now,” he warned with a wink. “We’re expecting to hear some of those tales of giant fish and icebergs and the like. Grace,” he admonished lightly, “will you make up a plate of food for the poor man before he wastes away on this cold night?”

  Grace laughed and went immediately to carve him thick slices of beef, ladling rich gravy over a plate piled with potatoes, cabbage, carrots, and parsnips. Mary Kate grabbed a big chunk of soda bread from the board and tossed it onto the mountain of food.

  “Look how much!” she cried.

  “Smells delicious.” Reinders suddenly realized how very hungry he was. “But shouldn’t you feed them first?” He tipped his head toward Lily, now sitting and talking earnestly with her children, then lowered his voice so only Grace could hear. “It was hard on the ship.”

  “We’ve enough to fill them up and more.” She patted his hand. “Go on now, enjoy your dinner.”

  She and Mary Kate began making up plates for Solomon and Mary at the end of the table, and Reinders had just put a forkful of tender beef in his mouth, when Sean interrupted.

  “Captain, I’d like to introduce you to Mister Franklin Osgoode and his daughter.” He indicated the two people seated at his right.

  “How do you do?” Reinders inquired around the food in his mouth.

  “Captain Reinders is a very famous seaman,” Sean explained to the Osgoodes. “Full of brave and daring deeds. Young Liam here will gladly tell you all about him, even if you never ask.”

  “Oh, aye.” Liam nodded enthusiastically, then blushed and turned his attention to the last potato on his plate. Mary Kate giggled.

  “And today it appears you have added to your reputation as a do-gooder,” Mister Osgoode declared. “Reuniting family members.”

  “I just gave them a ride,” Reinders improvised, not sure about the Osgoodes. “From … Boston.”

  “Domestics?”

  “Not anymore.” Reinders thought quickly. “Their employer is going West, so they’ve come home. To be with their mother. It’s a surprise,” he added. “She wasn’t expecting them until the spring.”

 
“A touching scene,” Mister Osgoode commented. “I gather it’s been some time since they were last together.”

  “Maybe they’ll eat now.” Grace glanced quickly at the captain before leaving the table.

  “And what is it you do, Mister Osgoode?” Reinders changed the subject, giving Grace time to brief Lily.

  “I’m a solicitor,” Osgoode said importantly. “And also an elder with the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.”

  Aha, Reinders thought, so this is the Miss Osgoode.

  “Are you familiar with us, Captain?” Osgoode laid his fork aside.

  “No sir, not really. Religion is not my … strong suit.”

  “Captain Reinders is a man of reason.” Grace had returned, eyes sparkling with mischief. “A logical man. Not entirely convinced of God’s existence.”

  “An atheist!” Osgoode exclaimed, interested now.

  “Ah, well, he does have the occasional lapse in our direction, particularly during sea storms,” Grace teased. “But in general he prefers to captain his own ship, you might say.”

  “And what of your mortal soul, sir?” Osgoode warmed to the task of conversion. “Do you captain that, as well?”

  Reinders frowned; he’d had enough of these conversations to last a lifetime. “I’ve studied many books of anatomy, Mister Osgoode, and I have yet to see one that illustrates the seat of the soul.”

  “Therefore it doesn’t exist?”

  Reinders saw that the man was full of weak argument and easily dismantled, but he had no desire to do so on this day at this table.

  “I suppose the idea of a soul is like that of love—if you choose to believe in it, then it exists.” He smiled politely at Osgoode, then turned to Grace, who stood nearby. “This is delicious,” he complimented her. “Best I’ve ever had.”

  “Let me get you more, then. Anyone else?” And she began a flurry of dish passing that overrode any further religious discussion.

  Lily and the children rejoined the others, Solomon and Mary eating silently while their mother watched. At last the Osgoodes said they must be going, and to Grace’s surprise, Sean got his own coat, too.

  “But it’s Christmas,” she implored privately.

  “Mister Osgoode’s invited me to stay in their guest room. I’d have to go in the morning, anyway. And you don’t really need me, do you?”

  “I guess not. But I’m sorry to see you go like this.”

  He kissed her cheek. “See you tomorrow night. Thanks for a grand dinner. And I love my book!” He pulled it out of his pocket.

  “Ah, go on now.” She gave him a playful shove.

  The Osgoodes said good night to everyone, and Grace noticed that Sean had taken Marcy’s arm before they stepped out into the snow. When the door was closed and locked again, Dugan brought out tobacco and more ale, setting both down resolutely before Captain Reinders. “I can smell a good story a mile away,” he declared.

  Reinders glanced at Lily, who glanced at her children, then nodded.

  “All right. But it goes no further than this room.”

  Bathed in firelight, the faces around the table nodded in agreement.

  “Solomon and Mary are slaves. Were slaves,” he amended, raising his glass to them. “We’d been trying for a long time to bring them north, but nothing worked. Then we got another chance, but I had to leave immediately. I didn’t tell Lily because, well …”

  “It was getting hard,” she admitted quietly.

  “Yes. But lucky for us, there they were in Charleston at the same time.” He took a sip of his ale. “Mary had been brought along to help with the children while her master’s wife visited family in the city.”

  Mary leaned forward now, listening carefully.

  “Solomon was working out in the rice fields, just a couple of hours away. Our scout paid a couple of slave catchers to go out and take him at night. A risk—we’d been cheated before—but we promised twice the asking price if they delivered him unharmed. We had to pay a bonus, however.” Reinders grinned. “Your boy there put up quite a fight.”

  Solomon allowed himself a guarded smile, now it was all over.

  “The same night they went for Sol, we paid the free Black who did laundry for Mary’s family to carry a message to Mary, saying she must get out of the house at dawn to meet her brother.” Reinders looked at her. “Obviously, she succeeded.”

  Mary smiled bashfully, but her voice was proud. “I tell Missus Hayes I got a sister in the city just have a baby and can I go see it. She say all right and give me a note, some baby clothes even. I dropped them, though. When they grabbed me.”

  Lily put an arm around her daughter.

  “I see her from up the warehouse window.” Solomon forgot himself and took up the story. “I point her out and they go get her. She pretty scared, till she see it me.”

  “There wasn’t any time to talk,” Reinders continued. “I needed them in those trunks and stowed on board so we could get out of there.”

  “I was scared,” Mary admitted. “Might be a trick, slavers selling us off somewhere else. If so, I just as soon stay put.”

  “When they open the trunks to feed us, we talk a little. We worried how long it was taking.”

  Mary nodded. “But we made it.”

  Lily’s eyes welled with fresh tears. “You did,” she whispered.

  Everyone else around the table looked from face to face, their mouths hanging open in amazement.

  Dugan pounded his fist onto the table. “By God in Heaven, isn’t that the most incredible story you’ve ever heard in all your life?”

  “We were very lucky,” Reinders conceded.

  “Ah, no, Captain.” Dugan shook his head adamantly. “’Twere no luck in any of that. Could only be the Lord’s hand delivered you all.”

  “Aye,” Grace added, almost to herself. “A miracle.”

  “What of your husband, then, Lily?” Tara spoke up from her place by the fire, where she sat rocking Caolon. “Do you know where he is?”

  Lily shook her head. “Do you?” she asked the captain.

  Reinders reached into his pocket and took out a folded piece of paper, which he passed to Lily, who carefully unfolded it, then laid it out on the table, smoothing the creases.

  “I can’t read this,” she said. “But I know what it is.”

  “I’m sorry, Lily. He’s on the run, and they’re looking for him. But we’ll keep looking, too.”

  She nodded, eyes still on the printed notice. “He’s a strong man, and he trusts in the Lord. I’m counting the blessings I got right here.” She forced a smile onto her face, then looked at her children, all of them nodding off right there at the table. “I best be taking them on home now, get them to bed.”

  “Don’t be daft, woman—there’s no going back out tonight!” Dugan waved his hand at the row of windows covered with thin sheets of ice. Behind them, snow was still falling. “You’ll all be my guests and welcome. That is, if you don’t mind bedding down in the front room.”

  “It’s got a rug,” Tara offered.

  “I’ll go see what’s at hand in the way of blankets and the like.” Dugan stood up. “Captain, you’ll stay?”

  Reinders thought of his cold rooms an icy ride across town. “I will,” he decided, “if it’s not too much trouble.”

  Dugan and Tara led Lily’s family up the stairs to their beds for the night; then Dugan returned with a couple of thin blankets and a pillow, which he handed the captain.

  “Best I can do. But you can stretch out on the bench there by the hearth and you’ll not freeze to death—I promise you that.”

  “I’ve slept rougher than this, Mister Ogue, but thanks.”

  “I’m sure you have, Captain.” Dugan laughed. “And you can leave off the ‘Mister’ when talking to me. You’re a friend of the family now.”

  Reinders shook the big man’s hand, said good night, then began readying his makeshift bunk.

  “Ah, now, let me help with that,” Grace offered
, coming out of the kitchen, where she’d deposited plates and cups. “Liam, take Mary Kate up to bed. There’s a good boy.”

  Liam stood rooted to the spot as if he hadn’t heard.

  “C’mon now, it’s not a dream and he’ll still be here in the morning.” She winked at the captain.

  Reinders came over and picked up the boy in one arm, Mary Kate in the other, and carried them to the stairs. “Aloft, maties,” he ordered, depositing them on the first step. “Meet you in the galley for breakfast.” He swatted their behinds gently and they started up.

  “See you in the morning then, Captain.” Liam’s eyes were clouded with fatigue, but he mustered a last grin for the man he so admired, the man who had arrived with Lily’s children and the fantastic tale of their rescue. Oh, he thought, his head spinning with it all, what a wonderful Christmas this has been.

  Thirty-four

  THE room was quiet with everyone gone out, and Grace was conscious of being alone with the captain. She busied herself shaking blankets and plumping pillows until there was nothing left to do, and then she turned and found herself looking directly into eyes brimming over with amusement.

  “Now you know why I disappeared so suddenly from Florence’s party. I told Jay I was ill—I’m sorry if you were worried.”

  “I wasn’t worried,” she replied. “I … I hadn’t thought about it, really.”

  Reinders’ smile faltered. “No. Of course you weren’t. Didn’t.”

  They stared at one another, then looked away, once again caught in an awkward silence.

  Grace was the first to break it. “What a night this has been, eh, Captain? You coming through that door with Solomon and Mary …” She shook her head. “I can hardly believe it came true. That they’re all together.” To her horror, hot tears spilled down her cheeks.

  “Grace.” He took a step toward her.

  “No.” She stopped him. “I’m happy for them. I’m overjoyed. It’s what they deserve after all they’ve suffered.”