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Pleased by the woman’s friendly manner, she warmed to her immediately. “Dr. Gallagher is a fine surgeon,” she replied. “Sean should be on his feet in no time.”
“Have you chosen a spot on deck for your evening fire yet?” the woman asked.
“Not yet.” A brisk gust of wind caught Maeve’s hair, and self-consciously, she quickly fashioned it into an unruly fat braid and tucked the end under her collar. She would find a bit of twine when she got back to the cabin.
“I’m Aideen Nolan. I’m traveling with my aunt, Mrs. Kennedy.”
“A pleasure to meet you, ’tis. I’m Maeve Murphy. My sisters and I are headed for Boston—well, a small village nearby called Faith Glen, actually.”
The woman glanced at the nearby passengers. “I suggest we reserve our spaces next to one another. That way we’ll be assured that at least one of our nearby supper companions will be familiar. Unless, of course, you have other plans. I’m probably being presumptuous.”
Maeve gave her a bright smile. “No, we hadn’t made plans yet. I’d very much like to find a place near yours. I’m confident my sisters will be glad for friendly company, as well. I’ve already had an encounter with a rather unpleasant woman who put me in my place for speaking to her.” Maeve glanced down at her clothing. “Thought I was someone’s maid, she did.”
“I’d wager that was Mrs. Fitzwilliam,” Aideen said. She leaned near and spoke quietly. “The gentleman just ahead is her manservant. I know her from the ladies’ league in Galway.” She took a brochure from the deep pocket of her skirt and flipped it open. “This list of preparations and rules for the journey instructs us to select the areas where we will be cooking our meals for the next several weeks.” She glanced at Maeve. “Are you familiar with cooking procedures?”
“Indeed I am,” Maeve replied with a sigh. “My sisters and I have been preparing meals since we were quite young.”
“I shall be forever indebted if you will show me how.”
Maeve had suspected from her dress and speech that Aideen was well-to-do, and her admission confirmed that thinking. “I’d be happy to tutor you, but you won’t be indebted. Communities help one another, and we’re going to be a community while we’re aboard. Like a village on the sea, wouldn’t you say?”
“Yes, I definitely would. My aunt and I had rooms in my grandparents’ home until recently, and they always had a cook. Neither of us have ever attempted our own meals.”
“My dear da passed on, only twelve days ago, God rest his soul. My mother’s been gone ten years now. We’ve had a lot of experience at creating meals from nearly nothing.”
“Next!”
Maeve turned to accept a burlap sack and a piece of chalk from a sailor whose face was coated with smoke and soot. “Daily allotment for three,” he said. “Find yer cook spot and mark it with yer name or yer mark. Respect yer neighbor’s planks and douse yer fire promptly at eight. Next!”
Maeve accepted a surprisingly heavy bag and a square of chalk, while the man recited the same instructions to Aideen. Together the two women headed away from the line in search of the fireplaces.
Along both sides of the foredeck, sections had been marked off with jagged stripes of black paint. For the most part, the areas were all the same size. The hands had obviously counted rows of deck planks in making the partitions. Each rectangular section held a curved brick cooking pit, partially open to one side, with three iron bars on the other to confine the coals.
They stood planning their strategy, hoping to predict which spot would be most protected from wind and weather. Praying they had it right, Maeve and Aideen wrote their surnames with chalk in side-by-side plots.
Setting down the bag, Maeve looked inside and found half a pound of rice, a small slab of bacon, flour and a tin of peaches. “My sister is a better cook than I am, but these are basic foods and there’s not a lot we can do with them. We should take them to our cabins now, and we’ll prepare them side by side this evening.”
“I look forward to meeting your sisters.” Aideen gave her a grateful smile. “I hope we’ll become fast friends.”
Maeve returned below deck, where she stored the food in their locker and gave Nora the key to wear around her neck. “I met a lovely young woman, and we saved our cooking areas beside each other. You will meet her and her aunt this evening. She was delightful, she was. From a rich family, I’m certain, but she struck up a conversation and wasn’t the least pretentious.
“Wait until you see her hair, Nora. It’s dark and sleek. I didn’t see it without her bonnet, of course, but I could imagine it’s nothing like these wild ringlets.”
“She sounds very nice, indeed.” Nora had finished making their beds in her efficient and tidy manner, with corners tucked and pillows fluffed. “On the doctor’s recommendation, I met with Mr. Mathers, and he assured me of a job with his staff. The galley is surprisingly roomy and clean. I’ll learn my duties tomorrow,” she said. “The others are men, but he said there would be another woman besides myself. The chores don’t look like anything I haven’t done a thousand times.”
“I hope he gives you a chance to show what you can do and doesn’t have you washing all the dishes. The crew would miss out if you couldn’t cook for them.”
“You’re a sweet lass. Biased, of course.”
“Dr. Gallagher is expecting me back in the dispensary to help organize supplies.” Maeve located a faded apron in her bag and slipped it on over her dress. “This will have to suffice for a uniform.”
“It’s clean and adequate,” Nora assured her. She rested her hand atop Maeve’s as her sister reached into her bag for her comb. “Thank you for accepting the doctor’s offer, Maeve. I know you worry you’re unqualified for a job with so many responsibilities, but you always did your best to help Mother and Da and our neighbors in Castleville. The local women declared you the most knowledgeable and dependable midwife in all of County Beary. I’ve no doubt you will be a benefit to the doctor.”
“I’m hoping to learn from him.” Maeve braided her hair as neatly as she could manage and secured it with a length of twine. For the first time she wondered what other passengers like that Fitzwilliam woman would think of her helping the doctor. Maybe they would simply see her as his servant, and find that acceptable. Was that how the doctor saw her? She surely didn’t look forward to any more encounters like the one with Mrs. Fitzwilliam.
“The three of us will have an income…all because you so bravely went to that boy’s aid.”
“Helping him was simply instinctive,” she replied. “Not heroic.”
“Tell that to the lad who is alive, thanks to you.”
“God provided the way for us,” Maeve told her eldest sister. “He used what could have been a tragedy to find us jobs and bring the boy onboard. It will be interesting to see what develops next with Sean.”
“Only you would find the silver lining in an otherwise cloudy situation.”
Maeve stretched to her fullest height to give Nora a peck on the cheek. Nora leaned forward to accept the kiss. She took Maeve’s face between her hands and looked into her eyes. “Mother always said you were like a bright star on a dark night. Even as a wee bairn, you saw everything differently than the rest of us. ’Tis a quality I admire.”
“Nothing would get done without your practical thinking and logical planning,” Maeve reminded her. “Sometimes I wish I was more like you.”
“You’re perfect just the way you are.” She released Maeve. “Now go about your duties at the dispensary.”
Maeve turned and headed for the door. For the first time in as long as she could remember, she was looking forward to something.
Chapter Four
A knock sounded on the door. Flynn looked up as Maeve Murphy opened it and peered in. She had bound her wild red hair and donned a plain coarse apron in preparation for her duties. He liked that she was efficient and punctual, adding those qualities to her quick thinking and kind manner with the boy. So far he liked everything about her.
“Come in, Miss Murphy. I’ve only just opened the first of the supply boxes.” He gestured to the wooden crates lining the wall in the rectangular room.
She walked toward him, her bright blue gaze taking in her surroundings. In the morning’s confusion he hadn’t looked her over, and he did so now. She was a tiny thing, her flaming red hair creating ringlets that framed her cheeks, while the rest had been contained in a braid. Her skin appeared as fragile as porcelain, with healthy pink cheeks and a mouth like a China doll.
If a person judged on appearance, he’d think she was nothing more than a sweetly pretty girl, and overlook her wit and courage. Not many people had the knowledge or the compassion to jump to the McCorkle boy’s aid the way she had.
She glanced with keen interest at the sturdy cabinets with chicken wire instead of glass in the doors, where only a few bottles and tins stood. “If you’ll be so good as to acquaint me with your system, I’ll store the supplies.”
“We’ll both work on it.” He led her to the other room, where Sean lay sleeping on a low cot, a blanket pulled to his chin.
“How is the laddie doing?” she asked softly.
“Very well, indeed,” he replied. She smelled good, too, like clean linen and spring heather, and his reaction startled him. He hadn’t noticed a woman in that way for a long time. He took an unconscious step away.
Her inquisitive gaze took in her surroundings, fastening on the storage cabinets and workspaces. There were no rimless surfaces in his dispensary. Everything had been designed to accommodate the normal rock and sway of the ship or even a storm. He explained his mortar and pestle for grinding roots and seeds, the scale and weights for measuring ingredients, the piece of marble on which he prepared salves, sets of measures, dosage spoons and a plaster iron. The young woman listened with interest and apparent understanding. She asked surprisingly insightful questions. He was glad now that he’d learned of Hegarty’s true nature before the ship sailed. Maeve Murphy looked to be the better choice.
He described the contents of each crate as he carried and opened it. Between each ocean voyage, he spent weeks preparing bottles of saline draughts and barley water, jars of calves’ foot jelly and plasters. He saw to it that those who fell sick on a ship he worked received the best care possible. His meager pay didn’t begin to cover the cost of medicines, but he drew from his inheritances and vast investments.
He’d left his father’s practice over the objection of his family to make a difference and to forget. He truly believed it was his calling to help people so desperate to start new lives that they risked a journey like this. Everyone he encountered had a dream of a new beginning he didn’t share. He didn’t think about his future, only about the work he had to do today.
“I wish I’d had half as many cures when my friends and neighbors were ailing,” she said wistfully. “I may have been able to save more of them.” Tears shone in her wide blue eyes as she gazed at a bottle of vitriolic acid.
Uncomfortable with the intimate glimpse at her suffering, he placed the bottles he held inside the chest and withdrew from his pocket the key he carried at all times. “We’ll lock the mercury, laudanum and calomel in this chest under the case here.” He stood slowly.
“Truth be told I wouldn’t have known what to do with half of them.” She raised her gaze to his in an earnest plea. “I’d like to learn.”
He couldn’t ignore her sincerity. “It won’t be a bother to share their uses and common dosages,” he said. “You have a natural instinct, Miss Murphy. I might even learn a few things from you.”
He handed her his checklist and a pencil. As they worked he explained the contents of each bottle and their uses. She knew most of the more common medicines and was fascinated by others. He also took the opportunity to educate her a bit about ship life.
“They’re electing the council today,” he mentioned.
“What does that mean?”
“Each voyage the male passengers meet and select a group from among them to form a council. When problems arise—and they will—these men govern by representing the passengers.”
She couldn’t imagine what would come up that would require their government, but she trusted the process.
“Are you ever on the council?”
“No, I’m technically not a passenger. I’m part of the crew.”
When Sean woke up, Flynn’s new assistant efficiently saw to his needs, inquiring about food supplies and then making the boy a gruel of millet and rye flour. Though Flynn grimaced at the concoction, the boy lapped it up and lay back with a contented smile.
“You’re a blessing, you are, Miss Murphy,” Sean said to her, his dark eyes adoring. “I be grateful for your care.”
“You might well change your mind when I wash that head of hair of yours. It’s going to need a good scrubbin’. I’m going to fill a pail now, and you can lie right there with your head over the edge of the table.”
“I’ll catch me death of cold, I will,” the lad howled.
Flynn turned aside to hide a grin. “I have free access to the barrels of rainwater, Miss Murphy. Just ask a sailor for help toting buckets.”
Sean’s smeared face showed his concern. “I’d just worked up a good skin coverin’ afore the doctor began to scrub it away.”
“It’s June, not December,” she argued. “You’ll not catch cold. And it’s a good thing the doctor got a start on scrubbin’ off the filth, otherwise we may have mistaken you for a bit of firewood lying on the wharf. You’ll be washin’ your face and hands every mornin’ while you’re here.”
As she argued with the boy, her brogue got amusingly thicker. Flynn chuckled.
The room grew silent, and he turned to see the both of them staring at him. Perhaps his laugh had sounded as rusty to them as it had to him. “I don’t think you’re going to win this one, laddie. We’ll find you some clean clothing, as well.”
“Aye, sir,” Sean said, putting aside his bowl. “Thank you, Miss Murphy. ’Twas a delicious gruel.”
“I don’t know that it was delicious,” she said with a raised brow. “But it will build up your strength. Tomorrow I’ll make you a flavorful potato soup that will stick to your ribs.”
The boy beamed at her promise. “I’ll not fight you on a quick washin’ today. The doc’s already done me feet.”
She’d known just what to do with the meal to make it palatable, and Sean had eaten it as though it was fare fit for a king.
Flynn didn’t know Maeve’s background, but her clothing, while clean and pressed, indicated a lack of means. Her older sister had whispered how desperate they were to earn a wage. And Sean, an orphan, surviving in the village streets… Flynn had no concept of such poverty.
His privileged life had been glaringly different from the ones these two had lived. His family owned property in three countries, had a home in each and employed servants to do the work and the cooking. There was no such thing as a simple meal where he came from. Four courses served with silver utensils and gold-monogrammed china was the norm.
Even he himself owned land and a house in England and had purchased a home in Boston. His lifestyle was extravagant compared to those of his poor countrymen. But money didn’t mean happiness or contentment, he knew for a fact. It was heartwarming that Maeve seemed satisfied with next to nothing. It said a lot about her temperament…and her faith.
Flynn got called away several times that afternoon to tend passengers unaccustomed to the sea. Many lay on their bunks with heads swimming and stomachs roiling. There was nothing to be done for them, save bathe their heads in cool water. Since they weren’t ill or contagious, he assured each one they would feel better in a day or two and advised them to stay on deck, rather than below.
As the day waned, the doctor sent Maeve on her way. She felt good about her day’s work and confident she’d earned her wage. She passed a man with an easel set up at a good vantage point and paused to watch him sketch the horizon, with its craggy cliffs and white-crested waves. Minutes later, she joined her sisters on the foredeck. A piece of paper fluttered from beneath the edge of one of the bricks that made up their cooking pit. Nora reached for it and unfolded the note.
Immediately, she handed it to Maeve. “It’s for you.”
My dearest Miss Murphy, she read silently. My aunt and I have been invited to dine in the captain’s cabin this evening. Please accept our regrets, and we will look forward to meeting with you as soon as possible. Sincerely, Aideen Nolan.
Bridget, who’d been reading over her shoulder, found a small keg and perched on it. “The Atwaters were invited, as well. After this evening, I’ll be eating with them and their daughters most of the time. This dilemma never entered my mind. I don’t know the first thing about proper etiquette. I can’t let on and make mistakes or they’ll think I’m not an appropriate governess.”
“Nonsense.” Nora paused in piling wood in their brick hearth. “You’re a fine young woman, with the common sense God gave you and the convictions of your beliefs. You will make a wonderful role model for the children.”
“I’m sorry you didn’t get to meet Aideen and Mrs. Kennedy this evening,” Maeve added. “They might be a help in teaching you proper etiquette, so you may in turn teach the children. Aideen is the friendliest person I’ve met so far, she is. Not haughty like some of the others.”
“The kitchen help are all quite nice,” Nora added. Together, she and Maeve started a fire and put on a pot of water for rice and tea. Nora cut their small ration of bacon into six slices. From the other nearby cooking pits came the mouthwatering smells of frying bacon. Maeve’s stomach growled.
She marveled as the heavens changed color. The smells were unfamiliar here. Of course the salty tang of the ocean was predominant, but there were no green scents. Grass, flowering bushes, heather had all been left behind, and she found she missed them. The smell of tar reached them from time to time, and always the smell of cooking food permeated the air.
As the sun set lower in the sky, the wind grew more chill. They bundled themselves in their shawls and unobtrusively glanced at the neighboring passengers.
“Tell us more about the Atwaters,” Nora said.
“There are three young daughters,” Bridget began. “Laurel is eleven. Hilary and Pamela are younger. When I arrived, Laurel actually looked at my dress and asked if I’d come to clean their stateroom.” She smoothed her hand over her skirt, as though the memory still stung.
After her encounter with Mrs. Fitzwilliam, Maeve could certainly understand.
Bridget glanced up. “Not that I wouldn’t have, mind you, had that been the duty assigned me.”
“They have a stateroom?” Nora asked. She had mixed ingredients and set the dough on a smooth clean brick beside the fire to rise. Once it was baked they would have bread for tomorrow morning.
“Aye. It’s well-appointed, with room for the girls to do lessons. Hilary has brought a canary aboard, and little Pamela has an array of China dolls like I’ve seen only in catalogues.”
“A canary?” Nora set out a small jar. “Our rations contain enough molasses to sweeten our tea. I should think it was unnecessary to bring a bird aboard a ship.”
Bridget shrugged. “Perhaps she simply enjoys the songs, and her parents indulge her. I glimpsed a life unfamiliar to anything we know. The girls bicker among themselves and argue over who gets the largest or best portions or whose shoes are prettier.”
“Mother would never have allowed us to behave in such a way,” Nora said.
“She was strict, but she disciplined us with love,” Bridget agreed.
They bowed their heads and held hands in a familiar circle.
“Father God, we come before You, grateful for this opportunity You’ve given us,” Maeve began. “We are thankful that we could buy tickets and amazed at Your provision in giving us jobs so quickly.”
“Thank You that we are not going hungry,” Nora added. “This is more than adequate food for Your humble servants.”
“And thank You,” Bridget added softly, “That none of us has the seasickness.”
