A Place in His Heart (13 page)

Elizabeth stood with their father and watched her sister ascend the plank. She dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief that matched the gift to her sister. As she leaned into Ezekiel, she caught notice of a young woman trailing behind an older couple as they were boarding the ship, reluctant to leave her girlfriends behind on the dock.

“Ezekiel. Isn't that Miss Terry?”

The Swallow

Captain Jeremy Horton escorted Mary, Barney, and the boys to the roundhouse on the upper deck. He made the necessary introductions to First Officer Bennett and his wife, Mistress Bennett. “Barn, mayhap Joseph and Benjamin would enjoy inspecting the masts and sails, whilst I give the ladies a tour of the ship.” He turned to Mary. “Mistress Bennett will be disembarking before we set sail.”

Mary leaned toward the older woman. “Oh, truly? I was thinking how painful goodbyes are with my family, but to think you must say farewell to your husband.” A farewell was just that, to be sure—you prayed the other would fare well until you met once again. One did not know if that would be on earth or in heaven.

Her brother-in-law took his duties as shipmaster seriously, and she tried exceedingly hard to pay attention as he spoke of the fine merits of his ship. He took great measure to ensure the safety of his crew and passengers. If they arrived safely in the New World, and it was as wonderful as the adventurers claimed,
perhaps someday he would bring her family across to join them. That would be her daily petition in prayer, but she would also work very hard to that end.

They arrived at the shipmaster's cabin and Jeremy explained that it would be the Horton family's quarters. Both ladies viewed the small, curtained berth. It would be bed for her, Barney, and both boys for the duration. Pity dripped from Mistress Bennett's face.

Mary turned again to her brother-in-law. “I am sorry you shall not be able to use your cabin.”

“Nay, I will be fine. Someday I hope to have a wife myself, and then I won't be eager to be so generous. But it's only a small sacrifice to sleep on the officer's deck for this voyage if it gives some comfort to you and my nephews. Come, I will show you the rest of the living quarters. It will give you some perspective when you think about comfort.” He gave a meaningful look to Mistress Bennett.

Descending to the 'tween deck, Mary's breath caught. “People will actually live down here? For almost three months? How many are on board?”

Already masses of people filled the small, close space. A handful claimed the few bunks lining the edge of the deck. Most piled their bedding on the wooden floor. The air seemed warm and clammy from the sea of humanity, and the plank had not even been drawn.

She eyed the pails. Were they to be chamber pots for all of these people? Quickly she gave thanks for her cabin with its porcelain chamber pot, tucked inconspicuously into a corner.

“There are ten and hundred souls on board, counting crew. Some have paid good passage.” Jeremy took her arm and directed her up the steps behind Mistress Bennett. “A few will work
off the cost of the voyage in the colonies. They are indentured to the Massachusetts Bay Company and have signed a contract. After five or so years of working for the company, the contract is returned, and the land they have built on is theirs. Conditions have been so poor here in England, they are willing to gamble on going to Massachusetts. But many seek to do God's will as you and Barn do.”

As they climbed to the top deck, she scanned the people still crowding the dock. “Is New England really better? It sounds like a magical place someone has dreamt up.”

“Aye, it is. But ye know God is the Creator. He dreamt it up. Beautiful—I have seen it with my own eyes. Barnabas believes he and John Youngs's followers will be caretakers of God's gift. But ye know that.”

“I do, as Barney pointed it out to convince me. But only if we survive the journey. I've heard the stories of other ships and the families who have perished. If someone has boarded with the pox or measles, we could all die. If a storm comes up, the ship could sink. I like adventure, but this is not something I would choose for myself.” She grinned at her brother-in-law. “Do you think 'tis for love?”

“Certes.” He lowered his voice to a mutter. “Barn is a blockhead to not see it.” He picked up his pace to the main deck. “We are at God's mercy, true. But my ship is sound.” He knocked on the rail. “I take immense care in maintaining it. You won't have the comfort of home, but it will be bearable and safe, on my oath. I will be here for anything you will need. I wouldn't take the risk with you and my nephews if I did not believe in the safety of my ship.”

Barney, with sons in hand, emerged from the crowd.

“Ah, and here he is. We will lift anchor soon, so I must make
haste and go to the stern. Reverend Thomas Reeve will be delivering a sermon and then I will give the command to set sail.”

“Mama, the sails are so big.” Ben ran up to her. “We climbed the ropes. The topmen let us.”

She looked at Jeremy, then at her husband. “They climbed the ropes?”

“Not even half a rod, to be sure.” Barney grinned at his brother. “But at sea it will be forbidden.”

“Thank goodness.” She hugged Ben. “Oh, what fun. 'Tis exciting, is it not, to be on a big ship?”

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.”