Gold Rush Bride

by Shirley Kennedy

  “That’s wonderful, William.” The last thing on her mind was paddlewheel revolutions. Had she made a mistake? Maybe Mr. Winslow was right when he said she was too delicate and well brought up for a journey such as this. A sudden panic swept through her. How could she leave everything she’d ever known behind? Take a journey fraught with peril and maybe never come home? She wasn’t on the ship yet. She could simply say she’d changed her mind and head for home. No, she couldn’t. What was she thinking? This was for Charles. This was for her family. She laughed to herself and kept on smiling. No way would she back out now. “This is all so exciting. I can hardly wait to see our accommodations.”

  Millicent frowned. Like Mother, she, too, had fretted and worried over Letty’s making such a journey. “I’ve heard bad things about steerage.”

  “Not at all. Mr. Massey said we’d have a semi-private cabin. How bad can it be?”

  A tall, thin man strode down the gangplank, obviously a ship’s officer in his dark blue frock coat with gold buttons down the front. He climbed onto a box and began yelling through a megaphone. “First- and second-class passengers will board now. Steerage passengers will wait.” He flashed a smile at those beginning to board. “I’m Joshua Bibb, your purser, here to serve you and make your journey as comfortable and enjoyable as possible.” He turned to where the steerage passengers had been told to gather. The smile disappeared, replaced by a frown of disapproval. “You passengers in steerage will wait until everyone else is on board. You will go straight down to the steerage area. No wandering around the ship, is that clear?” Not waiting for questions, he climbed down and disappeared up the crew’s gangplank.

  Millicent frowned. “I don’t like that man’s attitude. It doesn’t bode well for you, Letty.”

  “Don’t be silly.” She didn’t like it either. “Elfreda and I will be fine.” She looked to where her ill-humored servant stood guarding their luggage. “I hope you’re not worried.”

  Elfreda threw her a withering stare. “I don’t worry about anything, Miss Letty.”

  Oh, Lord, why did she even bother to ask?

  At last, the time came to board. Those in steerage were required to carry their own luggage, so both Letty and Elfreda walked up the gangplank carrying big canvas bags, valises and bundles of bedding. As ordered by Mr. Bibbs, they headed straight to steerage, which she soon discovered was another name for the dark, dank bowels of the ship.

  “This is a semi-private room?” Letty, followed by Elfreda, had climbed down two steep flights of stairs, not easy, the way they were burdened with luggage. A fetid smell invaded her nostrils as they made their way to the forward part of the ship. She could hardly see in the dim light and had to crouch because the ceiling was so low. They finally reached an area close to the bow lined with bunks on each side. A crude wooden table sat in the middle with a lantern hanging overhead.

  Several women had arrived ahead of them, and were occupied claiming the bunks and unloading luggage. A pretty girl of around eighteen with long black hair and blue eyes heard Letty’s remark and burst into bubbling laughter. “If you call a room with all these bunks semi-private, then that’s what it is.”

  Letty’s heart sank as she looked around. Made of rough wood, the bunks had only the thinnest of straw mattresses that didn’t look all that clean. What looked like a storage area lay beyond. It was filling up fast with trunks and suitcases. The only light came from the one lamp and two small, round windows. “Ports” she supposed they were called. She turned to Elfreda. “Where do you suppose the bathroom is?”

  The dark-haired girl laughed again. “There’s a bathroom of sorts, but it’s at the other end where the men are. We women will have to use chamber pots.”

  Oh, dear God. This was horrible. She should have spent the money and gone at least second class, but too late now. Above all, she mustn’t show her disappointment. She put a smile on her face and pointed to a lower bunk. “I’ll take this one, Elfreda. Why don’t you take the one above? This isn’t too bad, do you think?”

  Her maid didn’t speak, but the look she gave Letty contained a combination of disgust, aversion, and how-could-you-have-been-so-stupid?

  Letty had pictured herself at the railing when the ship pulled away from the dock. She’d be tossing kisses, waving a genial farewell to the cheering crowd below, but that didn’t happen. All steerage passengers remained in the crowded bowels of the ship as a steady thump-thump of the paddlewheels began. Minutes later, a gentle rocking announced the ship was underway. Letty made up her bed, not waiting for Elfreda to do it. From now on, she’d do as much as she could by herself. Curious to know what had brought them here, she started talking to the other passengers. Several women had husbands aboard, but because there were no accommodations in steerage for married couples, they must travel separately. Some women were maids whose employers, ensconced in first class, considered steerage good enough for their servants.

  The dark-haired girl with the bubbling laugh was one of those. “The name’s Betsey Higgins. I work for Colonel Connors and his wife.” She jerked a thumb upwards. “They’re upstairs.”

  “You don’t say ‘upstairs’ on a boat,” someone said.

  “‘Above’ then? Who cares?” Betsey broke into her merry laugh, not at all daunted by the horrors of steerage. She pointed to a chubby, brown-haired woman of about twenty-five. “This is my friend, Mary Hawes. She works for Mrs. Honoria Leffington, who’s also upstairs, I mean above, in first class.” She giggled and put her hand over her mouth. “A mean, nasty woman if ever there was one.”

  Mary Hawes spoke up. “That’s not nice, Betsey.”

  Letty could tell the plain-faced woman wasn’t the least incensed. Doubtless because her employer really was mean and nasty.

  The sour-faced purser, Mr. Bibbs, appeared, calling the eleven women in the room to attention. “You will listen carefully to the rules. You are allowed on deck one hour in the morning and one hour in the afternoon, subject to weather, of course. The rest of the time, the deck is reserved for first- and second-class passengers, and you will stay below. As you know, you women have been put at the bow of the ship, while the men are aft. There will be no co-mingling. You will be served two meals a day. Mind, you’re responsible for washing the dishes, pots and pans. The cook will come and explain.”

  Someone asked, “Where do we get the water?”

  “Buckets.”

  “Where do we bathe?”

  The purser smirked. “Didn’t I just say where you’d get your water? Any more questions?”

  Letty was speechless. Bathe in a bucket? Everyone must be as stunned as she was because no more questions were forthcoming.

  The purser spoke again. “The rest of steerage is packed to the gills with men headed for the goldfields. They’re a rough lot for the most part, and you’d best stay away from them. Don’t go wandering around the ship. Break the rules, and you will be reported to the captain.” With a warning glance that seemed almost a threat, he turned and left.

  That night, Letty found out more about her fellow passengers when they sat around the table and ate their first meal together. All were plainly dressed, some in immigrant fashion with shawls draped around their shoulders and scarves tied over their heads. Her stylish, bell-shaped gown, lined with linen, crinoline petticoat underneath, made her feel out of place. If she’d known, she would have left her fashionable clothing at home, but too late now. She was doing her best to remain inconspicuous and not flaunt the fact she’d brought her maid along. Elfreda sat silent beside her.

  At first, no one remarked upon the only black face at the table, but before the meal was over, a sharp-nosed woman named Bridgett pointed at Elfreda and asked, “Is she your slave?”

  Letty sensed Elfreda stiffen beside her and hastened to reply. “Certainly not. Massachusetts is a free state. It has no slaves.”

  “Is she your maid then?”

  Would the woman not shut up? “Elfreda is in my employ
.”

  “Really?” Bridgett tipped her head to one side. “If you have a maid, then what are you doing in steerage?”

  “I think this food is terrible,” Mary Hawes, the woman who worked for someone named Honoria, interrupted. “What do you think?”

  Her question brought a chorus of complaints about the smoked bacon, sauerkraut, and boiled potatoes served for dinner, all of it tasteless. Letty shot Mary a look of gratitude for changing the subject.

  Later, after the dishes were washed and put away, Letty lay on her bunk wondering what she should do. It was early, and she wasn’t sleepy yet. Despite the two ports being open, the room was becoming increasingly stuffy. Her narrow bunk was so confining she might as well be lying in a coffin. How she’d love a bit of fresh air, but according to the awful Mr. Bibbs, they wouldn’t be allowed on deck until morning. Apparently, Betsey had the same suffocating feeling. After restlessly pacing the floor, she announced, “I’m going upstairs.”

  She was met by a chorus of you-can’t-do-that’s, but Letty thought it was a great idea. “I’ll go with you.” With one eager motion, she swung off the bunk.

  Mary spoke up. “I’m coming, too.”

  Betsey clapped her hands. “Wonderful. I’m dying to see the rest of the ship.”

  Letty felt Elfreda’s gaze drilling into the back of her head from where she lay in the top bunk. She turned and asked, “What will it hurt? Do you want to come?”

  Elfreda sniffed and turned her back, making Letty wonder why she even bothered to explain herself to her disdainful maid. “Let’s go.” She, along with Betsey and Mary left the bunk area, crept through near darkness, and up the steep stairs. Despite telling herself she didn’t care if she broke the rules, her heart was thumping in her chest. Never mind. She’d so yearned to see the ship and breathe some fresh air it was worth the risk of being reported to the captain.

  “I hope we don’t get caught,” Mary whispered.

  “What if we are?” Betsey whispered back. “What can they do? Throw us overboard? Make us walk the plank?”

  They crept along the dark deck until they saw a light ahead and came to the entrance to what they guessed was the first class cabins or maybe the dining salon. As they reached the entrance, a seaman appeared out of the darkness.

  “What are you doing?” His voice sounded young.

  “What do you think we’re doing?” Betsey asked in a saucy voice.

  “You’re steerage. You’re not supposed to be here.”

  Up close, Letty saw a skinny, fresh-faced young man, not more than eighteen, she guessed. “We just wanted to see the ship. We won’t bother anyone.”

  Betsey stepped close to the young man and fluttered her eyelashes. “Please, sir, we just want to get a quick look.”

  “Don’t call me sir. I’m just an ordinary seaman.”

  She drew closer. “Then what shall I call you?”

  “The name’s Freddy. Well…” Even in the semi-darkness, Letty could see the blush creeping over his cheeks. “They’re all eating their dinner. I could let you peek into the dining salon if you promise—”

  “We promise!” Betsey touched his arm. “And we’re ever so grateful. Lead the way.”

  They followed Freddy through what appeared to be a lounge area, empty at the moment, replete with plush upholstered furniture, oil paintings and potted palms. “This is the lounge,” Freddy whispered. “Nice, huh? There’s a men’s smoking room, too, and a music room and library.” Beyond the lounge, they came to a short stairway with elaborate iron balustrades on either side. At the top, two carved oak doors with etched glass windows marked the entrance of the dining salon. Freddy beckoned them up the steps. “They’re having their desert now. Crème brûlée. That’s where they pour caramel on top and set it on fire. Take a peek, but don’t be long.”

  Letty crowded with the others to peer through the etched glass windows. What a beautiful dining room. Thick oriental carpeting, round tables covered with white linen tablecloths, lots of gleaming china, silver and crystal, all under a lofty glass dome. Elegantly dressed diners filled the tables, the women in satins and laces, the men in long, black tailcoats and white ties.

  Betsey pointed at one of the tables. “See there? That’s my employer, Colonel Connors and his wife.” She pointed to another table and made a face. “There’s Mary’s employer, the mean and nasty Mrs. Honoria Leffington.”

  Mary gave her companion a nudge. “You shouldn’t.”

  “But it’s true, isn’t it?”

  They both giggled.

  Letty took note of the woman they obviously both disliked. She appeared to be in her early thirties, no great beauty with her long, aristocratic nose and weak chin. She was stunningly dressed in a pink lace and satin gown, her black hair swept up in an elaborate coiffure topped by a jeweled tiara. She didn’t look mean and nasty, but like Mother said, beauty was only skin deep, and if her maid thought she was awful, then she probably was. A man sat next to her. He looked vaguely familiar. Had she seen him before? Before she could look closer, the people at the table got up to leave.

  “We’ve gotta go,” Freddy hissed.

  “Just a minute more,” Betsey said.

  “No!” Mary grabbed her arm. “We’ve got to go now.”

  “I guess we should.” In haste, Betsey started down the short staircase and slipped. Before she could grab the railing, she fell back on her bottom, hit the steps, and slid all the way down, her skirt hiking up as she went.

  “Damn me!” Freddy took one look and started away, Mary close behind.

  Letty wanted to follow, but how could she leave her newfound friend behind? She knelt beside Betsey. “Does anything hurt?”

  “Just my dignity.” Betsey started to giggle. “Look, my bloomers are showing.”

  “It’s not funny. We’ve got to get out of here.” Letty reached to help Betsey tug her skirt down, but before she could, the dining room doors swung open and diners started through. She and Betsey were blocking the steps, but too late now.

  Honoria Leffington was the first through the door. She looked down the steps and in a shrill voice cried, “Who are these people?”

  A white-bearded man in uniform appeared. Judging from all the gold braid and gold buttons, he had to be the captain. He took one look. “Terribly sorry, Mrs. Leffington. Steerage class has strict orders to stay where they belong.”

  “Well, I should think so.” Her nose pinched as if she were smelling something bad. “I don’t want my voyage ruined by these wretched steerage people.”

  Wretched steerage people? How dare she? Letty had to choke back her anger. She must get out of this horribly embarrassing situation soon as she could and get Betsey back to where they belonged.

  A tall, broad-shouldered man appeared in the doorway and asked, “What’s going on?”

  Honoria sniffed with contempt. “Just look, Garth. These people from steerage think they can come up to first class and take advantage.”

  Garth? Oh, no, no, no. Garth Morgan couldn’t possibly be on this ship, yet there he stood, staring down at her. She turned her face away. Maybe he hadn’t recognized her. Seconds passed, and she had to look back.

  He still stood at the top of the steps staring down, a look of recognition slowly dawning, followed by amazement. “Aren’t you…? Why yes, I know you. You came to my home.”

  “You know this woman?” Honoria asked, her voice edged with astonishment.

  Garth ignored her, came down the steps, and extended his hand to Betsey. “Are you all right, miss? Can you get up?”

  Betsey emitted a self-conscious giggle, obviously unaccustomed to a gallant, impeccably dressed gentleman offering his help. She took his hand. “I do believe I’m all right. Haul me up, if you don’t mind.”

  As Garth pulled Betsey to her feet, Letty arose, too, her thoughts flying in all directions. Garth Morgan was the last person in the world she expected to see—wanted to see. The villain! He’d r
obbed her brother, she was sure of it. Unbelievable that they were on the same ship together. She’d better make it clear she’d have nothing to do with him. She looked him in the eye. “You are correct, sir. I’m Leticia Tinsley, and I came to your home not too long ago. Our visit ended in a most unpleasant manner, and I’ve not forgotten.”

  He regarded her quizzically. “What are you doing in steerage?”

  “What do you think? I’m going to California to search for Charles.”

  “But steerage?” He seemed taken aback, had to take a moment to gather his thoughts. “You still think I took his gold?”

  “I’ve no reason to believe otherwise.” She had to get away, had never felt so uncomfortable in her life. She turned to Betsey. “Are you all right? Can you walk?”

  “I’m just fine.”

  “Then let’s go.” She looked back at Garth. “Good night, sir. I trust our paths won’t cross again.” She took Betsey’s arm and led her away, breathing a sigh of relief as she did so. What a shock seeing that awful man. At least the ship was big enough that if her luck held, they wouldn’t meet, especially since she was in steerage. She would certainly never venture up to first class again. As for the journey across the Isthmus, she had no idea what to expect. She only knew she wanted nothing to do with Garth Morgan and would avoid him at all costs.

  They found the stairway that led to steerage. On the way down, as they crept in the darkness, Betsey asked, “Why were you rude to that gentleman when he was just being kind?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “He’s uncommon handsome.”

  “That’s your opinion.”

  “Did you hear that awful woman, complaining about us steerage people? Didn’t I tell you what she’s like?”

  “You were right.”

  They reached their cabin. Stuffy and cramped though it was, Letty crawled into her bunk, happy to be back. The ship swayed gently. The muted thump-thump of the paddlewheels lulled her to sleep in no time.

  * * * *

  “What’s wrong with you, Garth? I’d swear you’re not listening.”