Tamar (3 page)

The diminutive but relentlessly cheerful Scotswoman, however, had so far elected to spend a considerable amount of her time in the single women’s quarters, to Mrs Joseph’s unvoiced but obvious disapproval. She privately thought Myrna vulgar with her flashy clothes and coarse language. Myrna seemed to get on with almost everyone, but confessed that at times she found the company of most of the cabin passengers dull and their attitude towards her standoffish. She thought the girls were much more fun.

Tamar agreed. She had barely had time to be lonely since the
Rebecca Jane
sailed from Plymouth. Although there were long hours when there was little to do, there was always someone to talk to. Most of the girls were young and eager to reach New Zealand, and never tired of talking about their plans and what, or who, they might find there. Tamar liked most of her cabin mates, although she was wary of a handful of fairly rough girls. Their ringleader, a big, aggressive English girl called Eliza, was rude, foul-mouthed and somewhat intimidating.

It had taken several days for the girls’ daily routine to establish itself. Mrs Joseph had lectured them vigorously on where they were permitted to go on the ship. There was strictly no entering the single men’s or crew’s quarters under any circumstances, no access to the poop deck which was for the sole use of cabin passengers, and they were to avoid going through the family quarters at night; it would certainly not do for a married man to see a young woman in her night attire, or vice versa. There was a closet privy in the single women’s quarters and this, for modesty’s sake, was to be used rather than the other sanitary facilities. Bathing would be carried out regularly every second day, using buckets of sea water, and laundry was to be done on Fridays.

The girls had worked out a roster detailing who would collect
and prepare the rations, which were prescribed by the ship’s surgeon, Dr Adams, and handed out under supervision. The food was adequate some of the time but, in Tamar’s opinion, frequently left a lot to be desired. On one occasion they received spoiled meat that had to be thrown overboard, but emigrants who had come from poverty more dire than Tamar’s thought the food was lovely. Every few days a supply of preserved meat, with rice or potatoes, pickled cabbage or dried peas, mustard and flour was served out to those on mess duty. Women nursing babies were allocated a quantity of beer and small children received fresh milk from the ship’s cows. Like the other steerage passengers, the single women cooked their meals in the community galley and ate at the large central tables in the middle of the ship. On occasion, however, if the family quarters were particularly noisome, they dined in their own compartment. Cabin passengers had their markedly superior meals cooked for them and served by stewards in their own area.

The family quarters, where most of the emigrants were housed, stank; its confined space was cramped, gloomy, airless and oppressive, particularly when the weather was too inclement to venture on deck. Dr Adams insisted the floors were thoroughly swabbed out with sea water and sprinkled with chloride of lime every second day, and bedding aired on deck at every opportunity, but the smell of unwashed people and human waste persisted. An official instruction stated that chamber pots were not to be used in sleeping and eating areas and the privies used instead, but many were too embarrassed, preferring to squat over their pots behind their bunk curtains. Whenever Tamar went through the family quarters to go up on deck for air, she held her nose to stop herself retching.

The atmosphere in the single women’s quarters was not particularly refreshing either, but under the guidance of Mrs Joseph
most of the girls made an effort to keep themselves and their area clean. The privy was sluiced with sea water and chloride of lime regularly, and the few small portholes above the bunks opened briefly whenever the weather permitted.

Initially, a handful of girls resented having to bathe as regularly as Mrs Joseph demanded and their body odour was beginning to disturb their roommates. Tall, big-boned, sour-faced Eliza, who came, ironically, from Bath, took particular offence at Mrs Joseph’s efforts to get her to wash.

‘I only ’ad a wash once a fortnight at ’ome, an’ I aren’t changing that fer the likes of you, yer snotty old cow,’ she snapped one day, standing threateningly over the much smaller Mrs Joseph. ‘Sod off an’ kip somewhere else if yer don’t like it!’

The blood drained from Mrs Joseph’s face and her already thin lips compressed into a white line but, humiliated and intimidated, she had not responded.

The girls continued to make an effort not to breathe too deeply around Eliza for the next few days, but the denouement came mercifully soon. Sweeping into the single women’s quarters one evening after dinner, Myrna stopped dead in the middle of the cabin, fanned her face theatrically and exclaimed loudly, ‘God Almighty, what
is
that dreadful pong? There’s no’ a dead fish in here somewhere, is there?’

She prowled around the cabin, sniffing suspiciously at each of the girls, much to their mortification. When she came to Eliza lying in her bunk, she stopped. ‘Och, it’s
you
, lassie! Ye stink!’

Eliza uncoiled herself from her bed and stood up. ‘Yer wot?’ the big girl said menacingly.

‘I said, ye
stink
!’ repeated Myrna even more loudly, craning her neck to look into the much taller woman’s face. ‘Ye pong. Did ye mam no’ tell ye to wash when ye have your courses? Ye smell like a heap o’ dead whelks rotting on the shore!’

Everyone froze in horrified anticipation, waiting to see what Eliza would do. Tamar glanced at Mrs Joseph sitting motionless at her small work desk, mouth open and face crimson with embarrassment.

Eliza raised her hand.

‘Dinnae even think about it, lassie,’ said Myrna. Quick as lightning she grabbed Eliza’s right ear with her long fingernails and pinched and twisted hard. Eliza yelped and bent her head down to Myrna’s level in an attempt to ease the pressure.

‘Let go, yer bitch,’ she wailed.

‘When ye agree to keep yeself clean,’ replied Myrna calmly. ‘Ye’ve no’ a hope in hell o’ getting yeself a laddie smelling the way ye do, not to mention the fact that ye’re making life for the lassies here verra unpleasant. Well, are we agreed?’

When Eliza said nothing, Myrna gave her ear an extra, particularly brutal, wrench.

‘
Ow
!’ shrieked Eliza. ‘
Yes
! Yes, I’ll wash!’

Myrna let go, stepped back and lowered her voice. ‘Who raised ye, lassie?’

Eliza subsided onto her bunk, her eyes watering and her hand held protectively over the side of her head.

‘Who taught ye about being a woman?’ repeated Myrna.

‘No one,’ replied Eliza sulkily. ‘Me mam died when I were little.’

‘Thought as much,’ remarked Myrna. She took Eliza’s hand and pulled her gently but firmly to her feet. ‘Ladies,’ she announced to the stunned onlookers, ‘we will be in ma cabin for an hour.’ And, pushing Eliza in front of her, she stepped out through the cabin door.

‘Bloody ’ell!’ exclaimed Polly after the door swung shut. ‘Never thought I’d see
that
’appen!’

Everyone started talking at once, ignoring Mrs Joseph’s pleas for decorum and a care for language.

‘I feel sorry fer ’er, really,’ said Jane. ‘Not knowin’ what ter do an’ all that. Can’t be nice.’

‘Don’t worry, Myrna will sort her out. She’s very good at that sort of thing,’ replied Letitia. She looked accusingly at the remaining handful of girls who, along with Eliza, had been refusing to wash regularly. ‘At least we’ll be able to breathe properly in here now, won’t we?’ she said pointedly. The smelly ones nodded rapidly.

Eliza came back an hour and a half later with red and swollen eyes, but smelling infinitely better. In fact, Tamar thought she detected a hint of lavender water as the big girl walked past. The girls raised their eyebrows at each other but nothing was said.

The smell below decks was always worse when the weather was rough. The first real bout of bad weather and serious
mal de mer
arrived just over a week out from Plymouth. Until then, as the ship sailed south past the coasts of France and Spain towards the Canary Islands, the weather had been fair and unusually calm.

Those passengers who had already experienced mild seasickness as soon as the
Rebecca Jane
had reached open water, but had recovered and gained their sea legs, were horrified to find that as the ocean swell grew, their seasickness returned tenfold. On the first day of really rough weather, the conversation below decks became steadily more muted and by mid-afternoon, many had retired to their bunks, feeling extremely ill. As their nausea increased, tempers frayed and established routines began to falter. In the cabins, most managed to confine themselves to vomiting into bowls and buckets, but below decks, there was no room for such elegant manoeuvres and the stricken simply threw up in their bunks or onto the floor.

In the single women’s quarters, only Tamar and one of the other girls were not seasick. Nor was Myrna, who claimed she had never been ill a day in her life. Mrs Joseph took to her bunk as soon as
the
Rebecca Jane
started to roll, her face grey and miserable-looking under the wilting lace of her house cap.

The first vicious storm struck the ship suddenly at three o’clock in the afternoon of the following day, forcing the Captain to forbid anyone venturing on deck. The seas rapidly became mountainous and huge waves crashed over the ship, sea water pouring through the hatches and drenching below decks. As much equipment as possible had to be lashed down and almost everyone was confined to their bunks, the rolling and pitching of the ship making it unsafe for the few who were not seasick to wander about. Many of the children and more than a few adults cried out in fear as the ship creaked, groaned and heaved around them, lamps swinging wildly in the gloom as mighty waves crashed against the hull.

Tamar spent much of the three-day storm tending to those too sick to help themselves. Initially she confined her ministrations to the girls in her cabin but on the first evening of the storm, Dr Adams asked for anyone able and willing to help him with his rounds. Myrna offered to take over from Tamar in the single women’s quarters, so Tamar volunteered. She was appalled at what she saw when she stepped into the family quarters.

Almost all of the steerage passengers were ill, their retching moans barely audible above the sounds of the storm and the ominous groaning of the ship’s timbers. The floor was awash with sea water, vomit, uneaten food and people’s belongings. Several children and adults lay in this mess, too weak to drag themselves into their berths. The smell of human waste fouled the air, some of the ill unable to make use of their chamber pots, or using them instead to vomit into.

‘My God,’ Tamar exclaimed, one hand over her mouth and nose and the other tightly clutching a dripping beam above her as the ship rolled. ‘This is awful! How could they all get this sick so quickly?’

Dr Adams shrugged. ‘
Mal de mer
always comes on rapidly. If you feel you’re not up to it, then it’s probably a good idea to go back to your compartment. It’s Miss Deane, isn’t it? I will understand.’

‘No, no,’ replied Tamar. ‘It’s just that they’re all so
sick
.’ As she said this, a woman thrust her head out of a bunk and vomited onto her skirt.

‘I hope you’ve got plenty of clean clothes,’ said Dr Adams. ‘This is going to be a messy job.’

Tamar sighed as deeply as the stinking air allowed; she did not have a lot of clothes, but she could always wash anything that became soiled. She would have to.

‘The cabin passengers are more or less sorted out,’ Dr Adams said briskly. ‘One or two of them aren’t sick and they’re graciously lending a hand with their fellow travellers, so they’re relatively comfortable.’ He looked about. ‘Conditions down here are much worse.’

Tamar glanced sideways at the young doctor. He was obviously educated and from the privileged classes, but did not seem particularly sympathetic to his peers. How curious.

‘We need to see what we can do for them, especially the infants and younger children because dehydration will affect them more. I expect most of the adults will be all right, but while they’re lying in their beds vomiting, they’ll be no use at all to their children.’

Adams squinted into the gloom and beckoned to a boy and an older woman sitting side by side at one of the long tables in the centre of the cabin. At his signal they waded carefully towards him through the five or six inches of slops, the woman holding up her skirts to reveal sagging, hand-knitted woollen stockings and tatty boots liberally coated with scum and sea water.

‘This is Miss Deane,’ said Adams, introducing Tamar to the pair who nodded politely. As the
Rebecca Jane
executed a particularly violent lurch they all clutched at something solid. ‘And this is
Henry Jones and Mrs Annie Croft, both steerage passengers and both of whom, like you and I, Miss Deane, are not affected by seasickness. What we need first is more light. Henry, go up on deck and find a crewman, that is if they haven’t all been swept overboard by now, taking care to make sure that doesn’t happen to you. Ask for some extra oil lamps and candles. Mrs Croft, you have no young children of your own?’

‘No, sir,’ the older woman replied in a soft Irish lilt. ‘Mine are all grown and can take care of themselves.’

‘Please call me John, Mrs Croft, or Dr Adams. After all, we’re standing in the same vomit.’

‘Well then, Doctor, call me Annie,’ said Mrs Croft.

Tamar also introduced herself, feeling out of her social depth. It was not usual to address a gentleman of Dr Adams’ status by his first name, and neither was it usual for him to address women he was not well acquainted with by theirs, even if they were several classes below him.

Adams pushed up the sleeves of his coat in a businesslike manner. ‘Well, we’d better get busy. Off you go, Henry, and be careful,’ he said as the boy waded into the shadows. He turned back to the two women. ‘First, we need to lift these people off the floor. Then Annie, if you start at the far end, Tamar and I will start at this end. We’ll need to wash our hands between each examination. Are you aware of what to look for, Annie? Dry skin, fever, headache?’