Gold Rush Bride. Shirley KennedyЧитать онлайн книгу.
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