Far From Home (2 page)

‘No worse than ’river Hull, miss,’ Kitty declared. ‘If you lived along ’Groves like I once did, you got used to ’stink from ’river. Just like this it was,’ she added cheerfully. ‘I could feel quite at home. Except,’ she sniffed, ‘I can smell oranges.’

Georgiana took a tentative sniff. ‘You’re right.’ She breathed in again and found, mingling with the odours of the river, the sweet nectareous scent of oranges which were packed in crates at the dockside.

The driver took them to the Brunswick Hotel where they had rooms booked until their day of departure. From their window they looked across the Thames at the Greenwich Peninsula, and below onto the wharf from where they would sail.

‘
Millions
of people, miss!’ Kitty cried excitedly. ‘Just look at them, I’ve never seen so many folk! Some have come by train, I expect. Railway station’s just down there.’

‘We’ll walk out tomorrow,’ Georgiana said. ‘We’ll get our bearings, buy extra provisions and see where our ship sails from.’ She was beginning to become animated too, now that they were here in London. The nagging doubts that she had had were starting to fade away, and her dream of a new life began to take on a reality.

The next day they stepped out to look at the ships being made ready for voyages across the Atlantic. It seemed like pandemonium as porters rushed around rolling barrels, carrying casks, heaving crates and baskets, and all the while shouting to one another. ‘Come on, Jack. Get a move on!’ ‘Here, Harry. Give us a hand with this!’ ‘Now then, me lad, look sharp, the ship sails today not tomorrer.’

Tipsy seamen, who were not on duty and had spent the previous night in alehouses, rollicked around the wharf with merry girls on their arms. Some had parrots on their shoulders which shrieked obscenities and whistled at passers-by. Other seamen, their shirtsleeves rolled up to reveal brown tattooed muscles, coiled ropes, scrutinized rigging and climbed over passengers who had settled themselves on the decks of their ships to check tickets, trunks, food, count their money and their children.

Georgiana and Kitty pinpointed their vessel, the
Paragon
, a three-masted iron ship with three decks which they were due to board the following day. Then they walked away from the dockside to find shops where they could buy provisions. A butcher sold them salt beef, and a grocer’s shop supplied eggs, rice and a fruit cake to supplement the food which they would get on board. Itinerant salesmen carrying wooden trays and boxes attempted to persuade them to buy Union flags, crude paintings of London, watches which were
genuine
gold and all manner of items which they were assured would be very necessary for their journey to the New World.

When they returned to the wharf the sound of singing greeted them. An assembly of passengers had gathered on the top deck of one of the ships and were gustily singing hymns. A queue of people waiting to board joined in the hymn-singing as they patiently stood with their tickets in their hands and a bright expectant expression on their faces.

‘Mormons,’ Georgiana murmured, and one of the waiting male passengers turned a smiling face to her and confirmed her remark. ‘That’s right, ma’am. We’re travelling with our brethren to Salt Lake City, the city of saints. We’re following in the footsteps of our great prophet.’ He sounded Welsh, Georgiana thought, his voice sing-song and melodic.

‘Good luck to you,’ she said. ‘I understand you’ll have a long journey across the plains of America?’

‘We do, ma’am,’ he confirmed. ‘But we have our belief to sustain us. Come with us,’ he cried heartily, including them both in his enthusiasm. ‘You will find true love and happiness.’

‘Did you say you were walking?’ Kitty asked in astonishment. When he nodded, she grinned and said, ‘My boots are onny fit for town streets. Not for trekking!’

He laughed and said that his boots were unsuitable, too. ‘But our faith will carry us onwards,’ he declared, and with a great burst of energy joined in the hymn-singing as he moved down the line towards the ship.

Georgiana looked around at the passengers waiting on the wharfside for other ships. Some were sitting on crates and packing cases, and were wearing an air of resignation as if they had been there a long time. Others were pacing about, anxious to be on their way. Mostly they were shabbily dressed, country people some of them, the women with worried expressions, wearing hand-knitted shawls and home-made bonnets and carrying babies in their arms. The men were in rough twill trousers, thick wool jackets and heavy boots.

But there were others, better dressed, and come to view the scene and these she guessed, like herself, had paid for a first-class ticket and a little more comfort on board.

Georgiana took a deep breath. We are all taking a chance, she thought. Every single one of us, regardless of wealth or status. Like those Mormons we must have faith that it will turn out well, but I wish I could be as sure as they are.

They boarded the
Paragon
the next day and their luggage was brought on board. Georgiana’s cabin was on the upper deck and Kitty’s on the second, where bunks were placed around the sides and partitioned off with curtains for privacy.

‘I’m glad I’m not down below on ’bottom deck, miss.’ Kitty had returned after exploring. ‘It’s so dark down there, even though most folk have got alantern.’

Georgiana also went to look around the ship and was horrified to see where Kitty would be sleeping. The second deck was crowded with women and children, all quite respectable, but the atmosphere was claustrophobic with only a trapdoor in the ceiling to let in light and air. On the lower deck, the steerage quarters, men were drinking or playing cards and the women sat in desultory fashion with children about their knees.

‘You must come up on the top deck, Kitty,’ Georgiana declared and immediately made arrangements for another cabin, which, though not premier class as hers was, was more comfortable.

‘When we arrive in America, we’ll stay in New York for a while,’ Georgiana told Kitty as she unpacked the bags. ‘We’ll have a look around. The state is very big, I believe, but not all of it is civilized, so we must take care. But we will enquire and find out what opportunities are available to us.’

‘You’re not thinking of working for a living, Miss Gregory?’ Kitty’s voice was shocked. ‘You’ll take a house, won’t you, and entertain?’ Her words drifted away. ‘I mean – a lady like you?’

‘I don’t know yet, Kitty.’ Georgiana decided to confide in her. After all, she had brought the girl away from a secure, comfortable position. ‘I have enough money to last us for a while, but I must look to improve our situation.’

‘Well, I can get a job of work, miss, cleaning houses or in a shop. I could even sing in ’streets if necessary,’ Kitty added cheerfully. ‘My da allus said, ‘‘Sure and you have the voice of an angel.’’ ’

‘Well, if the worst comes to the worst, that’s what we’ll do.’ Georgiana sounded more confident than she actually was. ‘You can sing and I’ll play the piano for our supper.’

The voyage was set to be long and tedious. It was now March and they expected to be in New York by the first or second week in May. The weather was fair for the first fortnight, with a stiff breeze, and they made good progress. Then rough weather got up and though the wind was in their favour, the sea was running high with massive waves and many passengers became sick.

Georgiana staggered to her cabin door for some air and looked out at the spectacle in front of her. The sea was mountainous, towering high above the ship. The sun shone brilliantly, catching every great wave, each billowing swell and tossing white horse with its flashing intensity, so that she had to shield her eyes from its brightness.

‘How wonderful,’ she murmured, then dashed back inside to be sick.

The wind and sea eventually calmed and Georgiana and Kitty were able to take a walk each day and mingle with some of the other first-class passengers. The ship’s Master invited Georgiana to take supper with him, his officers and an elderly lady. Mrs Burrows was, he informed her, a former resident of Beverley, the shire town of the East Riding of Yorkshire, noted for its fine Minster and horse racing.

‘Mrs Burrows, I would like you to meet Miss Gregory who is also from your area.’ Captain Parkes made the introductions and invited them to be seated at a long oak table in the low-ceilinged dining area, which was adjacent to the Master’s cabin. The table was set with pewter plates, fine glassware and crisp white table linen. ‘As you are both travelling alone, I thought perhaps you might care to be acquainted. Most of our other passengers are in families or groups—’

‘Are you one of the Hessle Gregorys?’ Mrs Burrows boomed, cutting the captain off in his verbal flow. ‘Montague Gregory?’

‘My uncle.’ Georgiana began to explain her relationship but was interrupted by Mrs Burrows who asked in a loud voice, ‘Travelling alone? No gentleman to escort you?’

‘Exactly so, Mrs Burrows. Apart from my maid.’ Georgiana was tight-lipped, certain that this tall, rather formidable woman dressed in an old-fashioned black gown with leg-o’-mutton sleeves, a lace cap pinned to her grey hair, was about to lecture her on such indecorous and foolish behaviour.

‘Glad to hear it!’ Mrs Burrows exclaimed. ‘If I can do it so can you. It’s about time you young women stood up for your entitlements.’

Georgiana gave a small gasp. Such an unexpected statement coming from a woman who must be nearly sixty years of age!

‘Shocked you, have I?’ Mrs Burrows gave a cackle. ‘Thought I might. I usually do. Most young people think that I should be in my bath chair – or in a wooden box!’ she added, giving a further cackle. ‘But I’m not, and don’t intend to be, not just yet at any rate.’

‘I’m delighted to hear it,’ Georgiana said warmly. ‘So very pleased. One of the reasons for my leaving England is because I know I will be old before equality comes to English women.’

‘And what’s the other reason?’ Mrs Burrows demanded, glancing up and nodding at the officers as they arrived and Captain Parkes introduced them one by one. She watched as the cabin boy dished up the soup with an unsteady hand. ‘You’re new, are you not?’ she asked him, conducting two conversations at the same time, then told him he would eventually get used to the motion of the ship before he had time to answer.

‘Not looking for a husband?’ She continued her conversation with Georgiana with hardly a pause and gazed at her with an unflinching eye.

‘No, that is not on the list of my priorities,’ Georgiana murmured, conscious that the attentions of the officers were on her. ‘I want to build a life of my own.’

‘Rich, then, are you?’ Mrs Burrows asked. ‘For there’s not much open to single women even in the bright New World. Well, not for young women such as you. You’ll not want to be chasing after the
forty-niners
like some foolish young women did!’

Georgiana stared blankly. What was she talking about?

‘Gold miners!’ Mrs Burrows expounded. ‘You’ll find New York almost empty. All the men rushed off to California two years ago when they heard of the gold. And half the females in New York went after them. Not gentlewomen, of course,’ she added and broke her bread into pieces.

‘Were none of you gentlemen tempted to jump ship and look for gold?’ Mrs Burrows addressed the officers quite informally and in a loud voice.

One or two of the officers shook their heads and answered, ‘No, ma’am.’

The captain spoke up hurriedly, as if he had been waiting for a chance to say something. ‘I lost some of my crew last year,’ he said. ‘The cook went and a couple of the apprentice lads. They were swayed by the lure of gold.’

‘All they’ll get is dirty fingernails,’ Mrs Burrows said tetchily, ‘and an aching back. My son lost half of his employees, but they’re drifting back, one by one.’

‘What is the purpose of your trip, Mrs Burrows? Are you visiting family?’ Georgiana was curious about her: she was either very brave or very foolhardy to be travelling so far at her age.

‘I’ve upped sticks now.’ Mrs Burrows took a sip of wine from a crystal glass. ‘I’ve been twice before to New York to visit my son, but this will be the last time. I shall stay. Shan’t return to England again. I’ve nobody there any more. All my friends are dying. Got no backbone.’ She took another drink. ‘No, I’ll stay in New York and set off a few crackers, wake some of them New York gels up a bit.’ She turned and gave Georgiana a wicked grin which creased her face into wrinkles. ‘They think I’m an eccentric old Englishwoman,’ she said. ‘Can’t think why!’

They met frequently after that and, wrapped in cloaks and shawls, took walks together along the deck. Georgiana told Mrs Burrows of her involvement with the Women’s Rights group which she had belonged to, and how she hoped that women in America had more equality with men than they had in England.

‘Don’t be disappointed when you find that they don’t,’ Mrs Burrows harrumphed. ‘Men make the rules just as they do at home! And though there are some women who are very committed to equality, I have found that the majority are very lethargic. Did you hear of that northern tour with the young woman who made a great impact by speaking on poverty and child labour?’ she asked abruptly. ‘Grace something? Miss Grace? The newspapers said that she was very poor, but I don’t suppose she was as poor as they made out!’

‘Indeed she was, Mrs Burrows! I know that for a fact for I was there. But she has now pulled herself up from poverty.’

As they walked, Mrs Burrows hung onto her bonnet as the wind threatened to tear it off. ‘So it is possible,’ she murmured. ‘All you need is determination, and maybe a helping hand. Of course,’ she went on, ‘in America it is possible to overcome adversity. There is a ruling class as in England, but that class is made up from wealth and not from aristocracy, and if you become wealthy through hard work and endeavour, no-one is going to look down upon you because you are from the labouring classes.’

Georgiana sighed. ‘But women are still excluded. They do not have the same freedom as men!’

Mrs Burrows shook her head. ‘What you could do,’ she said, ‘is find yourself a rich amenable husband and succeed in your ambitions through him. Many political wives do so.’ She glanced at Georgiana. ‘But I don’t suppose you would want to do that? It wouldn’t suit?’