Far From Home (43 page)

He rose up as he reached the door, where he could see Dolly’s skirts and the Chinese girl’s bare feet, and then sank into oblivion as a chair crashed over his head.

‘It seems quite amusing now,’ Edward related later to Jed and Larkin when they finally found him, living in a wooden cabin with the Chinese girl Tsui.

Whilst the fight was continuing, Dolly and Tsui had managed to drag Edward to his room above the saloon. Dolly asked Tsui to look after him. He had a nasty wound on the back of his head and Dolly had no stomach for blood. She gave Tsui money for ointment and bandages which she bought from a medicine man in Chinatown. Edward moved out of the saloon as soon as he was fit and the girl went with him.

He wanted to give Jed and Larkin money. The rock which he had found beneath the table, when it was split open, was worth more than he would ever need in the simple life he was leading. But they grinned and refused it, and handed him a leather purse filled with gold dust and pieces of quartz with gold embedded in it.

‘We worked out your share, Eddie,’ Larkin told him. ‘Taking into account the fact that you came with nuthin’.’

Edward shook his head. It was true they had an agreement that they would share if ever they struck gold. ‘But I haven’t worked for it,’ he said, thrusting it back to them. ‘I haven’t been to the diggings. I’ve done nothing to deserve it. You fellows rescued me when I was really down. Keep it,’ he said. ‘Jed, you wanted to build a cabin.’

‘Sure I do, and I will.’ His face dropped and he glanced at Larkin.

‘When we set out,’ Larkin said, ‘we were all greedy fer gold. That yeller stuff was a magnet drawing us to it. Well, since we got here we’ve seen men go crazy fer it. We’ve seen them hang a man fer jumpin’ somebody’s claim. We finally caught up with James,’ he added. ‘He and Matt worked a claim and had a lucky strike, or so they reckoned, but it ran out and they only made a few dollars.’

He rubbed his fingers over his stubbled chin. ‘Matt decided to go home. His horse died and he missed his ma and pa. He set off on his own and we’ll never know whether or not he made it back.’

‘And James?’ Edward asked quietly. ‘Where’s he?’

‘When we found him he was drunk and lying outside a bar. We took him back to his camp and saw the shack he shared with some other miners.’ Larkin shook his head despondently. ‘It was a hovel and I wouldn’t have kept pigs in it. We’ve stayed in some pretty rough places but none so bad as that one. We asked him to come along o’ us, but he said he was on the verge of a big strike.’

‘And was he?’ Edward contemplated them as he asked the question. They were sombre men now and the brightness in their eyes had dimmed.

‘Nope.’ Jed continued the story. ‘We caught up with him again couple o’ weeks later. In one of his sober moments he told us he’d panned a stream, then somebody jumped his claim. He came away with a sprinkling of gold dust which he spent on liquor. We asked him again to come with us but he refused. He was convinced he was going to make it big.’ He stared down at the floor, rubbing his rough hands together. ‘He’s sure got gold fever,’ he said softly. ‘And he’ll not be cured.’

‘Jed and me found gold,’ Larkin said. ‘As much as we need. And the agreement was that we’d share, but Matt’s gone along home and if we give James his due, then he’ll sure enough kill himself with drink.’

Edward was silent and thought of the handsome quiet young man who hadn’t had much conversation but got on with whatever was expected of him and never complained.

‘Tod,’ he said, suddenly remembering the seventeen-year-old. ‘Where’s he?’

‘Used his share on a ticket home.’ Larkin grinned. ‘Said his ol’ ma would be wondering where he was!’

The visitors looked up as Tsui came in, but she hastily backed out again when she saw them. ‘So who’s the Chink?’ Jed said admiringly.

‘Tsui,’ Edward said. ‘I can’t pronounce her full name. And she’s not a Chink,’ he admonished. ‘She’s Chinese and she lives with me.’

Jed pursed his lips. ‘Didn’t think they lived with Europeans!’

‘Usually they don’t. She was sold out of her family. She escaped from the man who bought her and made her way to San Francisco where she thought she would find work.’

‘As a whore?’

Edward shook his head. He was very protective of her. ‘No. She scrubbed bar-room floors, washed dishes. Anything but that.’

‘So—?’ Jed lifted his eyebrows questioningly. ‘Is she—?’ He let the question hang in the air, but Edward ignored it. He liked to have Tsui around. She kept the cabin clean, shopped and cooked for him and did his washing. She asked for no payment, but she ate with him and they had conversation, she was tender and considerate and sometimes she shared his bed.

‘Will you stay in California?’ he asked Larkin and Jed as they took their leave of him.

‘Sure we will.’ Larkin answered for both of them.

‘So we’ll see you around, Eddie.’

With some of the money from the rock of gold, as he liked to call it, Edward made a down payment on a run-down saloon and put Dolly in charge of it. She had a stage built and brought in dancing girls and entertainers, and within a few months it was called a theatre saloon. He bought new clothes, cigars and a gold watch and chain, and spent his evenings talking to his customers, giving the big spenders an occasional drink on the house, knowing that they would come back again after such a show of hospitality. But each early morning as the customers drifted away he went home to his cabin and Tsui.

Then one morning when he arrived home, she wasn’t there. He went to bed and rose at his usual time and she still wasn’t there. He ate a solitary breakfast and then went looking for her. He tried in Chinatown but he only met with impassive faces and a silent shake of heads. She hadn’t been to the saloon and the shops which she frequented hadn’t seen her either.

He sat on his bed and contemplated that he didn’t have any luck with women and if Tsui didn’t come back, then that was the last time he would ever have a relationship. His marriage to May was a sham, Ruby hadn’t wanted him and the affair with Sofia had been disastrous.

Dolly commiserated, but remarked, ‘The Orientals have a code of their own. Somebody in Chinatown will know where she is, but they won’t tell you.’

He spent restless nights worrying about whether she had been snatched and sold again. She was small and pretty and, though he didn’t love her, he was fond of her and missed her calming presence, her delicate hands and sweet smile. After six months, he reluctantly decided that she had gone for good, and went to bed with a compromising Dolly.

Wilhelm travelled with Georgiana in a waggon over the plain, and then by canal boat to Philadelphia. Here she would join a steamship for New Orleans. He was plainly anxious about her and had given her names of contacts in the newspaper world who would, he assured her, provide help if it was needed.

‘You worry too much, Wilhelm! It cannot be any more dangerous than travelling from England to America,’ she said, placatingly. ‘People are doing it all the time. I shall be all right.’

‘You had Kitty with you then,’ he said gruffly. ‘You were not alone.’

‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘But as Kitty was then in my employ, I had to make any decisions.’

‘Just as you do now,’ he grumbled. ‘You are a difficult woman, Georgiana.’ But he smiled as he said it, and bent to kiss her hand.

Georgiana had misgivings which she kept to herself. It was true that she would miss Kitty, for she was so very practical, but she couldn’t come with her, not now she had a husband and child and a business to run. The colony at Dreumel’s Creek was steadily becoming established. Ted had set up a trading store which Isaac was running. Kitty had her bakery, and the carpenters had started a co-operative venture where the community could buy or borrow the tools they needed. Wilhelm had bought his cattle which grazed on the fertile meadowland, and other families had moved in with their cattle and livestock.

Georgiana left Hetty in Kitty’s care and advised her to teach Caitlin to ride. ‘She’s steady,’ she said. ‘She won’t throw her.’ She picked up the tiny girl and hugged her. ‘I’ll miss you, Caitlin,’ she whispered. ‘Just as I’ll miss your mama.’

When she boarded the steamship for New Orleans, Georgiana was reminded of her journey from Hull to London, and was struck, she knew not why, by a sudden and unexpected pang of homesickness. She recalled sailing out of the Humber dock and seeing the spires and turrets of the churches, the mills and factory chimneys on the skyline. She looked back now and saw Wilhelm watching from the wharfside and felt a warm glow for him, for his dependable character and his strong friendship.

Lake had gone back to the mountains before she departed. He had looked down at her from his horse, his eyes searching her face before silently turning away, and she had watched from the valley as he rode up the mountainside until at last she could no longer see him.

She had chosen to travel to New Orleans before the winter snow closed in on Dreumel’s Creek, and also because Ted had advised that New Orleans was much more pleasant for English people in the winter or spring than in the summer. ‘The mozzies really bite, Miz Gianna. I was almost eaten alive.’

She smiled to herself. Miz Gianna. That was the name which everyone in the community now gave to her. Everyone, that is, but Wilhelm, who called her Georgiana.

The boat was crowded with farmers and businessmen and some ladies and their maids, who kept to their own little cabins. Georgiana, however, walked the deck several times a day to escape the stifling atmosphere of the saloon and cabins. She had to endure an acrid smell from the black smoke which issued from the furnace, chimneys and boilers.

The passage was long and tedious and the sultry journey up the Mississippi slow, but on their arrival in New Orleans she thanked the captain for a safe and uneventful journey. Although on several days they had hit bad weather, the boat was stable and there was no sickness on board.

He asked her if she was staying long in the city. ‘I have an introduction to the editor of the
New Orleans Gazette
,’ she said. ‘I am here to search for a relative and am hoping that they will advertise for him.’

‘An Englishman?’ he asked.

She answered that he was and asked if he got many English passengers.

‘From time to time, ma’am,’ he said. ‘Our sister ship brings the Mormons here; some of them are English, but mostly Welsh. She anchored only yesterday.’ He pointed up the levee, where there were ships and boats of every size and shape packed along the length of the embankment.

Georgiana shook her head. ‘He isn’t a Mormon, unless he’s changed his religion, which I very much doubt. His name is Edward Newmarch,’ she said. ‘And he came here, oh – about six years ago.’

‘Don’t recall the name, but then I’ve only been sailing this stretch of water for the last two years. Now, ma’am, I must warn you, seeing as you’re a lady on your own. Watch out for the wharf thieves. These fellows seem real friendly and obliging, but they know every trick there is and they’ll steal your luggage and smile at you whilst they’re doing it. Don’t be afraid of the blacks, and if you have any trouble at all, then ask for Rodriguez. He owns most of the town, including this ship.’

Rodriguez? she wondered as she disembarked. I know that name.

It had been raining hard and the streets were ankle-deep in muddy water. Boards had been put down so that people could walk across to the wide and high footpath at the other side of the road without getting their feet wet. The captain had asked a porter to obtain a carriage for her, and whilst she was waiting she was approached several times by men offering to help her with her luggage. The porter, a big black Negro who was loading crates into a cart, shouted at them to leave the lady alone. Drays and waggons trundled along the levee, which was crowded with cargo and merchandise, and she was beginning to feel oppressed by the noise and commotion.

‘Here you is, missy,’ the porter said as a carriage rolled up. ‘This fella’ll take care of you real good.’

She considered, as they bowled along, that she would be fortunate if she arrived at her hotel in one piece and with her luggage intact. Although the streets were wide, they were thronged with carriages and carts and a mass of people who appeared to have nothing to do but merely stroll in the sunshine and were disinclined to move out of the way of the carriages, in spite of the drivers shouting at them or cracking their whips.

How lovely the women are, she thought, looking out of the carriage window. And the colours of their gowns, like those of a peacock! Even the young slave girls – for I must assume that is what they are, as they are following behind their mistresses with baskets and shopping – even they are dressed so beautifully in their crisp cotton skirts. She turned her head to watch a barefoot mulatto girl in a colourful shawl and red skirt who was singing as she walked. If Ted is to be believed, there is no wonder that Edward became entranced by the women here, she reflected.

The next day, after settling in at the hotel, she decided to walk to the newspaper office. The streets were laid out in squares and on enquiring the way she was told she should walk for two blocks to get there. She asked the desk clerk for Carlos de Lassus, telling him that she was expected. Wilhelm had written to de Lassus previously, asking if he would place an advertisement in his paper regarding Edward Newmarch, and had written again when Georgiana had determined to travel to New Orleans.

Carlos de Lassus greeted her with a courteous bow and bade her be seated, and then sent out for a jug of orange juice when she declined wine or coffee.

‘I am delighted to meet you, Miss Gregory.’ He smiled. ‘I trust you had a good journey?’

She replied that the steamboat,
Sancho
, had been comfortable, though extremely full of passengers, which had worried her a little.

‘Ah, yes, the
Sancho
,’ he said. ‘It belongs to my cousin Rodriguez. It is well maintained, you need not have worried. Though it is true,’ he admitted, ‘that some steamboats do have fatalities; the boilers overheat or if the paddles are not properly protected ladies’ skirts can get caught. But not Rodriguez’ vessels, and he owns several. The
Sancho
is named for him and he has another beautiful ship which sails between your country and New York which he has named for his wife,
Sofia
.’ He added, ‘The
Sofia
carries the Mormons from Liverpool.’