A Place in His Heart

by Rebecca DeMarino

  Ben beamed, but Jay turned and leaned on the rail, his face sullen.

  The times Mary had been on the other side of the rail, down on the dock, watching the ships depart, seemed ages ago. She joined him now to look down at the crowd.

  Her cape fluttered in the salty breeze and she pulled it tighter around her shoulders. She inhaled deeply to fill her lungs with the fresh air. She searched the crowd on the dock for her family. Spotting them, she jumped up and down, both arms waving frantically over her head. “Papa, Lizzie—I’m here. Look this way! Oh Jay, there they are.”

  It was Lizzie who caught sight of her first. Mary could almost hear, but had to concentrate on her lips, to make out the words. “Mary. Father, there’s Mary! We love you. We shall miss you. Barnabas! Take good care of her and the boys. Mary, write to us.” She hugged Hannah to her as the last words faded on her lips.

  Papa stood silently waving, his eyes red and dry like they no longer had tears to spill.

  Mary watched as Rachel spotted Jay and waved at him and was quickly joined by Ruth and Joshua.

  Barney and Ben joined them in waving their goodbyes and then turned to bow their heads as the prayer service and sermon began.

  Mary reached to pull Jay to her, but he wrenched out of her grasp. She winced but bowed her head. She touched her forehead, heart, and then her left shoulder followed by her right, in a sign of the cross as she slightly genuflected. A tradition of her Anglican upbringing, it seemed irreverent to begin worship without the ritual.

  She allowed herself a small sideways glance at Barney. She could conform while attending Church of England services and Barney showed leniency when they attended the services held in secret midweek. But now they were on their way to a New World. In the end she had left her pretty green gown behind. Would he expect her to leave her heritage behind too?

  After what seemed an interminably long time, she peeked over the rail once more and mouthed, “Goodbye, my family. I love you too.” A strong breeze swept across the deck and Mary quickly grasped her hood and clamped it to her head.

  “Amen” resounded and the order rang out for the first mate to raise all sails. The canvas flapped as the deck groaned. The small ship slipped from the dock and departed for open seas. God must be with them. The wind and tide certainly were.

  Mary’s family gradually melded into the shoreline. She waved from the deck until her arms ached. The clouds darkened as they huddled together. Bewilderment crumpled Jay’s and Ben’s expressions. Surprisingly, she saw it in Barney as well, and she knew they all felt the same chill she did. The journey had begun. Now what?

  The dusky sky turned to ink and Barnabas stared at the masses of stars that blinked as a canopy above. Mary said the stars were God’s windows to heaven, where loved ones shone down to let them know they were happy. He knew it helped her feel closer to her mother. He wished it were true and the brightest one was Ann’s. It truly was a miracle how the same stars they gazed at in Mowsley followed them across this vast sea.

  But Ann should have made this voyage with him. Their sons needed her. Benjamin was young and clung to Mary, but Joseph—he missed his mother so. Barnabas had promised he would always protect them. Why did it feel as though he’d failed?

  Ten days at sea and each night had been beautiful. A large white moon rose and sent a shimmer of light across the dark, rough sea. Barnabas clenched his hands and leaned further into the ship’s rail. He shivered as he tried not to think of Ann.

  He should go see if Mary was back from the ’tween deck. She insisted on spending time down in that dank hole. She worried about the people who shared the cramped quarters and brought them lemons from the larder. Elizabeth had told her the juice could save them from scurvy and the fragrance would clear the air. He just asked that she not spend too much time below and she keep a handkerchief over her nose. His sons needed a mother and she was all they had.

  Long, scorching days stretched into torrid, interminable weeks. Sunburn gave way to a leathery tan only to burn again. The smell of rotting food competed with the stench from the buckets of human waste from the ’tween deck.

  Mary’s attempts to thwart the ravages of the relentless sun seemed woefully inadequate, but the peril from the storms when the rain came was worse. One crew hand was washed overboard in a great wave, and a search was not possible without risking more lives. Illness struck almost every family below, and half the crew.

  Two young sisters, Alice and Catherine, became delirious, and their hands and feet had to be fettered to their pallet with strips of petticoat. Sadly, they died and their bodies were buried at sea.

  Spoilt fruit and bags of soggy, festering rye were tossed overboard and the ship’s larder became alarmingly scant.

  Mary brought out the few remaining biscuits from their personal larder and picked at them. “They are quite hard, but I do not see any maggots.”

  Barney laid out fresh cod caught by the men that day on a particularly calm sea. “Mayhap maggots do not like their biscuit so hard.” He chortled at his joke. “You’ve tended our supplies well. We still have a goodly amount of dried meat.”

  She eyed the fish. They looked beautiful as their bodies writhed and scales glinted in the sunshine. Her stomach used to turn when she and Papa would fish from Mowsley Brook, but at this moment nothing looked more appetizing. “I prefer the fish to the dried meat, to be sure.” She did miss the oranges though. The memory of biting into a luscious wedge and the squirt of its tang made her lick her dry, rough lips.

  Her stomach grew queasy and she looked away from the barrel. “Last night was terrible, Barney. My stomach was so sick. I would have gone out to the deck, but I remembered Jeremy warned us against the rheumy air. He thinks the weather is beginning to change. ’Tis so terrible about those two young girls. I wish I could go down and comfort their mother.”

  He sliced the stomachs of the fish and scooped out the guts, tossing them into a pail. “Aye. But you must not go to them. We don’t know why they got sick. The girls were behaving very peculiarly before they died. They were hallucinating and could have hurt someone. We shan’t risk it. Jeremy asked if you were feeling better today. He has more dried ginger. After we have our meal, you should make some ginger tea. Mayhap ’twill ease your stomach.”

  “I shall do that.”

  “I know you tell me you are not, but I do think it highly possible you are with child, my sweet. You are much sicker than any of the rest of us, and nothing seems to help. What think you?”

  Mary peered down the deck. “Where are the boys?”

  “Are you avoiding my question? The boys have gone with Jeremy to the stern. ’Tis helpful their uncle has taken them under his wing, is it not? Now, to the point, are you with child?” His look held a tenderness she rarely saw.

  “I pray I am. I want to make you happy, Barney. I hope I’m wrong, but I do not think I carry a babe. ’Tis been six years now and sometimes I think I shall never have one.”

  “That can’t be. Of course, we shall have children. In the colonies it will be important to have many, many children.”

  She sighed at his words. She knew how much this meant to him. “I know you say that. And I pray daily we shall have a babe. Perhaps ’tis why I am so sick.”

  He handed the gutted fish to her. Her small metal box with a sand pit inside worked well to cook the fish and boil beans, as long as the weather stayed calm. Though she could improvise a tent should it rain, Jeremy would not permit a fire in a storm with wind.

  “The embers are low—what say I take a bucket down to the fo’c’sle and fetch some? The boys should be back soon.”

  “Thank you, Barney.” She watched him cross the deck and disappear down the step.

  Barnabas scooped the glowing coals into his bucket and climbed the stairs. He wove back and forth as the ship pitched about and, as he emerged, ran straight into Miss Terry. “My apologies, Miss Terry. I pray I did not burn you with my pail.”

  “Oh, no, Mr. Horton.” A tinkle of
laughter followed.

  As he stepped aside for her to pass, Jeremy approached with Joseph and Benjamin.

  “Heigh-ho, brother.” Jeremy’s voice boomed over the waves. “Miss Terry.” He bowed to the young lady.

  Joseph looked at his father, then at Miss Terry.

  “Son, you remember Miss Terry? She has been to the bakeshop often with her mother.”

  “Yes, Father.”

  “Then say hello to her properly.”

  Joseph mimicked his uncle with a bow, but his brow furrowed and a scowl threatened. “Good morrow, Miss Terry.”

  Jeremy nodded to the pail of embers. “Be careful with the fire tonight, Barn. We don’t have wind, but the seas are high. Cook your fish and put it out.”

  “Most certainly. Mary is looking forward to the fresh catch. We won’t dally with it.” There was so little she looked forward to eating, and he worried for the babe.

  The ship pitched and rolled through the night. Mary lay rigid and listened to Barnabas’s rhythmic breathing as she prayed for daylight. At long last, she swung her feet over the bed, glancing at Jay and Ben, stretched across the end. She knew Jay had tossed about for a while, but now he slept soundly.

  The wooden floor was cool on her bare feet as she padded to the table. The family Bible lay there, and she traced over the worn binding with her stiff fingers. She picked up the book, but set it back and reached for her dolly propped against the wall. Hugging it, a tear crept down her cheek. How long had she prayed for a babe? She looked toward Barney.

  He did not stir.

  A wave of nausea made its way up her throat. Still grasping her doll with one hand, she covered her mouth with the other and crept out of the cabin to the rail. She bent over and heaved as the side of the ship came up, rolling on a wave.

  Trembling, she leaned further over the rail, still cradling the doll. Tears flowed while she waited for the next wave of nausea to pass.

  “Mary, you should tell me when you are this sick.”

  She jumped. “Oh, Barney.”

  He pressed a handkerchief from Lizzie into her hand and slid his arms around her, as much to keep her from going over the side as to comfort her.

  “You—you frightened me. I am not sure how much more of this sickness I can stand.”

  “I know the waves are high and many people are sick from it, but you have not been well since we started out. You are with child, I am certain. Let me help you back inside before we are both swept overboard. You are drenched and the wet night air is certainly not good for you.”

  She allowed him to lead her back to the cabin. “It hurts me more than I can say that we don’t have a child.” Why was she saying this? Did it not make things worse?

  “We will. And we will build a house big enough to hold a dozen more children once we are in Massachusetts. Now, pray thee, put down that doll and come to bed.” He wrapped her in her cape.

  She placed the doll next to the Bible and crawled in beside him. She snuggled close.

  Barney stretched out, eyes wide open.

  Was he thinking of Ann? Or could he be thinking of Miss Terry? She looked so pretty on the dock the day they departed. Mary had seen her once or twice since, but they never really spoke. Miss Terry always seemed to remember something she needed below deck when a chance meeting did occur. Why was her mind leading her to all of these terrible thoughts? She prayed she was with child. She prayed Barney would love her.

  The night calmed and the rhythmic rolling finally lulled Mary to a fitful sleep. Dawn arrived like a blessing and she got up to get the day underway. Barney had been up and gone from the cabin before the sun rose.

  Ben squirmed and curled into the spot she’d vacated. She smiled and pulled the well-worn quilt over him. Jay appeared asleep as well, and she tucked the quilt about his shoulders. He stirred and looked up.

  She smiled and pushed a lock of hair back from his forehead. “Sorry, I did not mean to wake you.”

  “You didn’t wake me. I’ve been awake for a long time, since Father got up.”

  “Oh, I did not realize. You seemed to be enjoying your slumber.”

  He sat up. “Nay, I was wondering where Father would be off to so early.”

  “He feels a responsibility being the shipmaster’s brother. We are more fortunate than the others on the ship, you know—we have this cabin. He wants to be of help to anyone who is in need.”

  “Oh.”

  “’Tis something on your mind?”

  “Nothing I could talk to you about—I miss Mother. She always would listen to me.”

  She took a step nearer. “Jay, I’m listening. You can tell me anything.”

  “I saw Father with Miss Terry. I know that must trouble you.”

  “It troubles me more that you think you must inform me. Your father is a good man and he loves you and Ben. I know you miss your mother, but it hasn’t been easy on your father either. He misses her very much. ’Tis quite possible Miss Terry reminds him of your mother, when she was younger.”

  With that, she made her way out of the cabin. Why was she so good at making excuses for everyone but herself?

  She made her way to their larder and pried the lid off. Ugh. Dried, tough beef and beans with worms. She was so tired of picking out the worms.

  “You did well planning your provisions, little one. You’ll do well in the New World.” Jeremy bowed.

  “Oh, you startled me, but thank you, Jeremy. Speaking of the New World, I’ve had something on my mind about Massachusetts. I should like to establish a place where women could come and discuss the problems they encounter when we get there. I brought lemons down to the ’tween deck and ’twas a nice idea, but truly only a gesture. I should like to do something more meaningful in Massachusetts.”

  “Aye.”

  “I miss Lizzie greatly. She’s always been a support to me and I hope to be a support to others. I should like to offer a place where we could share our concerns and help each other. I’ve heard the story of Dorothy May and her unfortunate drowning. I’ve heard she jumped. There are other women like her that need help. We need a way to reach out to each other.”

  “That is indeed a singular ambition. I can certainly make it known to all of the ladies for you.”

  “Thank you. Perhaps one of the meetinghouses in Boston would allow a group of women to meet from time to time.”

  “I will see what can be arranged. Now, I should go check the charts and see just how close we are. I expect to see land in a day or two.” He turned to leave, but faced her once again. “Barn did tell you we lost sight of The Hector after the storm?”

  “Yes, yes he did. He told me this should not be a problem for us, only that we do not know if The Hector or the people on board are all right.” She glanced about as the ship dipped to the side.

  “Aye. I’m sure Barn told you we spent days circling, hoping to find them, or at least the debris. But it would have been dangerous to continue the search. We are now overdue and we are most certainly off course at this point. Depending on the shoreline itself, we may or may not go ashore when we have it in sight.”

  “I understand. I know you will make the best decision for us all. To walk on land again seems only like a dream.”

  He nodded and trudged up the stairs.

  She watched him disappear to the upper deck. Finally, satisfied they would have sufficient food for the remainder of the voyage, she picked at the beans. With a grimace, she plucked out the worms. There was a time in her life she would have completely recoiled. It seemed so very long ago.

  She paused from her task. Why didn’t she ask Jeremy what he thought of Miss Terry? Had he noticed her spending too much time with Barney? She climbed the stairs back to the upper deck and looked skyward. No, time to forget about such things. Too many other worries.

  Two days later, as the sun hovered on the western horizon, “Land ho!” broke the silence.

  Barney instructed Mary to bring Jay and Ben to the main deck.

  Reveren
d Reeves led the crowd in prayer and thanksgiving. Jeremy instructed the men to settle their children and womenfolk and report to the quarterdeck for a meeting.

  Mary remained riveted at the rail. She strained to see into the distance what must be the shoreline of New England, the New World. She turned to Ben and Jay. “This is to be our new home, our new life. Are you not excited?” Most likely she sounded stronger than she felt. Did she possess what would be required to settle in this new land? She certainly would find out. Lizzie thought she was strong. She prayed she was.

  Barney gathered her and his sons and led them to their cabin.

  “Shall we be able to go ashore tonight, Barney?”

  “Nay, my sweet. I am sure Jeremy will want women and children to stay aboard, whilst the men—or at least some of us—go ahead in the shallop and determine if this be a safe harbor. I venture he will not want us to go until the morn, and certainly we have to put the shallop together and it will require some time. I think ’twill most likely be suppertime tomorrow before everyone is brought ashore.”

  “We should have a big feast. A celebration, do you not think so?”

  “To be sure. This is the land of plenty. We will be feasting tomorrow night. Now, boys, be good for Mother, and I will be back shortly with news.”

  Jay watched his father as he disappeared through the door, then turned to Mary. “I hope he won’t be long. It would be too bad if he were to worry you again.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Please behave. I shall worry, indeed, but not as you intend. Pray, let’s sit and talk about all of the things we look forward to when we are in Massachusetts, shall we?”

  Ben snuggled next to her. “I want to run. And climb a tree.”

  Mary grinned and hugged him close. “Yes. Me too. And you, Jay, what will be the very first thing you want to do?”

  “Not climb a tree. The ropes on this ship are more fun than an old tree.”

  “That could be true. So, what is it you would long to do? Pray tell, anything at all.”

  “Why, I would go home to Mother if I could. Yes, that would be the thing.”