1863 Saratoga Summer Page 4

  She gave Sinead a hard look. “Jane, do not frown so. It makes you so homely. You cannot go alone. You know how the Irish on the docks are. Now more than ever.”

  Mrs. Dewitt’s comment about the Irish verbally slapped her. Not that such a remark was the first to come out of Adelaide’s mouth. This time, Sinead’s face grew warm, her breathing hard, as she tried to control her annoyance. Tibby tittered into her hand in an attempt to control the widening smile growing on her mouth. Sinead wanted to slap the foolish girl.

  Any defense of her Irish heritage would fall on deaf ears, so she capitulated. “I’d be delighted to have ye come with me,” she lied. “Then, perhaps, I can take Robbi—Robert—with us?”

  “Darling Jane, how I hate to repeat myself. Unsuitable! Robert shouldn’t have to gaze upon such indecencies as is perpetrated on those wharves. My Josef doesn’t even like to go near there. The docks are dangerous. Besides, it’s not as if that man is the child’s father. He is simply your husband, one acquired with surprising alacrity after my son-in-law’s death.”

  Sinead had no answer. The statements about her husband were true. Bowes, her da, had arranged the circumstances of her marriage to the O’Malley stranger. Fond of little Robbie, he shouted his disapproval far and wide about the priggish, Protestant Dewitts raising an Irish, Catholic lad to manhood. He thought to thwart the Dewitts by giving Robbie a da who came from the old sod and maintained his Catholic roots.

  Sinead tipped her head in Mrs. Dewitt’s directions. “It shall be as you wish,” she quietly said, knowing it wouldn’t be any other way if she was to retain her relationship with Robbie. “Well, Mrs. Dewitt, we’ll be going then. You lead. I will follow.” As usual, she thought.

  Adelaide turned on the landing. She poked Tibby to precede her. With chin protruding, inches ahead of the rest of her, Adelaide swung the back of her dress to one side, swished around on the landing and glided down the massive staircase.

  Tibby reached up to offer her hand before Adelaide got to the bottom of the stairs. Sinead followed them, holding her temper in check, biting her lip until she drew blood and tasted it on her tongue.

  The butler held the foyer door open. Adelaide sailed out and down the porch steps, like a steamboat under full power. The butler followed and helped her into the waiting public carriage. Tibby climbed in and sat next to her mistress. Adelaide shoved her over. With a wave of her hand and a pat on the middle seat, she summoned Sinead to sit between them.

  Since the butler retired to the house after handing Adelaide into the carriage, Sinead climbed up the narrow step and over the maid. She desperately wanted to step on the girl’s feet before she plopped down on the tiny space left to her. Squashed between the two ample women, the heat became overbearing. Perspiration coursed down Sinead’s face and trickled onto her dress.

  The cart’s driver, who didn’t have the decency to help them enter the carriage, gave a loud cluck. The two horses moved off at a fast pace, careening around the very next corner. Adelaide clutched her throat and hung onto the door handle. Tibby shrieked and Sinead’s heart beat in an over-fast rhythm, frightened beyond measure by the quick movement of the horses.

  “Driver, slow down,” Adelaide shouted. “This instant, I say.”

  The carriage continued to bounce down the cobbled street, its pace uninhibited by any tug on the reins. Adelaide hoisted herself forward, bending her considerable chest over her round knees. She screeched at the driver, “Slow down. Immediately, I say!”

  Sinead could barely breathe. Her corset pulled on her. The heat winnowed every ounce of strength she had in her and made little dancing spots in front of her face. Her innate fear of horses terrified her, and her breathing became more labored.

  Without turning, the man in the front box called out in a rich Irish brogue. “’Tis a wee bit too fast for ye, is it? Yer servant told me ye were a mite late for the docking of a mighty ship from the land of the green.” The man chuckled. “Of course, missus, with a pleasant ‘please’ from yer mouth, I’ll slow these fellows down.”

  Sinead frowned and groped in her small reticule for a handkerchief but she was hemmed in on all sides it seemed. She tilted her head to one side and carefully listened.

  Adelaide held the falling bird on her hat in a tight grip with one hand and the door of the carriage with the other. Her knuckles were white. “Please. Yes. Oh, please. Slower,” she called out, tears streaming down her face, her hair somewhat askew.

  “Och, that was much better,” the driver hollered. He slowed the horses to a brisk walk. “See, they feel much more confident in their steps when ye speak with a softness to yer voice.” The man loudly laughed. “’Tis a lovely day for the dock!”

  This time, Sinead heard the voice clearly. It was her own da’s voice, Bowes Brennan’s voice, a voice with all the teasing ways of the old sod and it came from the front of the carriage. She wanted to howl with gladness but her heart beat too fast. She was dizzy, sick to her stomach, and closed her eyes.

  ~*~

  The longer it took Bowes and the ladies to get to the docks, the more the sun beat down on their heads. Traffic stopped their carriage in all directions on several occasions. People gathered in groups, with no obvious purpose in mind, forced others onto the busy thoroughfares. The continual starting and stopping motions of the carriage, plus the heat and humidity, made Sinead physically ill.

  No matter where they turned, what street they tried to go down, people seemed to be milling about, shouting, not hurrying from one place or another, but clogging the streets anyway. Carriages jockeyed for space to drive and, once they arrived at their destinations, took their time trying to park as near to the newly opened shops as possible.

  Invariably, wagons, carts and carriages lined the broad thoroughfares making up the business area. Dust spurted into the air from broken cobblestones. The entire scene filled Sinead with tension, the noises loud and frightening, and it was getting later and later.

  After several hours of delay and rerouting, they arrived at the overcrowded piers of South Street and Wall Street, The East River bulkhead. Men were already lighting the gaslights lining the shipping areas.

  Odors of decaying fish, spices, and garbage thrown about and left to rot, made Sinead even more nauseous. Unbearable heat, nervousness over her future and the tensions in the streets of the city regarding the new conscription laws further added to her discomfort. Hard pressed to hold it all together, Sinead leaned against the hard back of the seat and closed her eyes, covering her mouth with her hand to control the bile building in her throat.

  Bowes brought the horses to a partial stop and maneuvered them into a waiting area, across from the docks and screened from direct access to the ships. He stopped completely and leaped from the high seat in a single bound then stood on a wheel to reach under the driver’s seat.

  Sinead gulped, letting out an elongated sigh, until she saw her da pull out a large printed sign with something written on it. With a wave back at the ladies, he ran onto the pier and hastened over to a large steamship.

  Sinead watched him raise the sign and circle in every direction within the milling crowd surrounding him. For a moment, she lost sight of him in shouting groups of vendors scattered around each ship and the passengers trying to embark. Every voice called to passengers or tradesmen and she assumed her da was doing the same with his hand cupped to his mouth and his lips moving.

  Every moment of sitting in the waning sun distressed her more. Faint from her fear of horses, the humidity and the pressure of the two women on each side of her, her heart fluttered like a moth beating against a glass lampshade. Her anxiety built a furnace inside her.

  She breathed a sigh of relief upon spotting her da going up the gangplank of the steamship. She could barely see him talking to someone at the end of the gangplank and lost sight of him when he turned to go to another part of the ship. She could no longer see him and the pulse in her neck beat hard enough to make her gasp for breath. She didn’t dare look at
Adelaide or Tibby.

  ~*~

  Carrying the placard with the name of O’Malley boldly emblazoned on its front and back, Bowes Brennan rushed onto the wharf and held it aloft. He turned in every direction and shoved the sign into faces of passengers embarking from the steamer.

  “Do ye know these lads I’m looking for?”

  Most were frightened-looking newcomers to the country, clutching their slight sacks of worldly goods to their chests. They looked at him with suspicion and pulled away, their heads shaking a negative response. Bowes waved the sign in all directions, until his arms tired of holding it so high.

  He showed the sign to several of the stevedores who were already unloading cargo and to some of the sailors carrying passenger-goods onto the dock. “The O’Malleys. Do ye know the lads?”

  One of the men pointed a finger to the steamer. “They haven’t disembarked yet. They’re still on board, waiting on someone to fetch ‘em.”

  Bowes walked in the direction of the gangplank. He looked about him in hopes of spotting one of the lads, as if he could recognize them. He pushed and shoved to get through the noisy crowd of those arriving, those leaving and those bargaining to carry goods away.

  His thoughts were a bit distracted. Most of the letters that had passed from one country to the other were between Finn O’Malley, his old friend, and himself. Bowes didn’t tell Sinead about those private letters, so she thought the two short ones he delivered to her were all there was to know.

  He couldn’t remind her of the previous relationship between the O’Malleys and the Brennans. She wouldn’t remember. She was too young when they left the farm in Ireland, although she did remember the accident.

  Would either of the lads Finn said were coming recognize him? Would Connor, the eldest of the lads, remember him? Bowes moved toward the ship. When Connor last saw Bowes and the two little girls, he was only eleven, though already taller than Bowes.

  Bowes snorted to himself. No sense in worrying whether they would recognize each other or not. The deed was done. The priest had joined the couple in holy matrimony and now Sinead would keep young Robbie. Bowes reached the gangplank and looked up at the ship. She’d be happy with that set of circumstances.

  The two youngsters would have to make the best of everything.

  Hundreds had done so before, for less constructive reasons.

  Chapter Three

  The steamer docked early on the morning of July eleventh. Connor made Egan rise from a sound sleep and dragged him up onto the deck. The temperatures below deck took a sorry toll on several passengers during the course of the voyage. Egan was one of them.

  The steamer had sailed across the sea like a silver fish, until the last week. Egan got seasick during the last ocean storm and collapsed, shortly thereafter, in the unbearable heat of the hold while trying to help others sicker than he.

  Connor knew Egan hadn’t recovered fully. A fever and weight loss diminished his strong body and left him with a slight cough. Now, as they stood on the deck of a transatlantic steamship, Connor listened to the deep breaths Egan took, without coughing, and was somewhat relieved.

  The lad is getting better, he thought.

  The air was thick and scratchy, dense with odors of the many ships docked at the wharf. Egan weaved back and forth, pointing to everything in a matter of seconds, his mouth keeping up a commentary of “Och. Con, look there. And there, too. Did ye see that?”

  Transfixed, Connor stared with astonishment, his gaze moving from one area to another. For the first time in his life, he felt dwarfed by things far bigger than he. He was not in the least comfortable with the feeling, nor with this world into which he was being thrown, with great reluctance.

  The two brothers noted the activity with interest. A conglomeration of piers, docks and slips were lined up at what the sailors called the East River bulkhead. Mighty bowsprits and carved figureheads reached over the immediate wharf area into the street beyond.

  The port was noisy, with pilots and crews jockeying for berths and merchant traders calling out their wares. Schools of sloops and lighters darted in and out amongst canal boats, schooners, barges, ferries and two thousand ton steamers. The offshore chaos gave rise to onshore mayhem as goods were transferred to hacks, carts and wagons, each competing to tote bales and barrels.

  Still holding on to Egan, Connor, muttered, “How the devil do they expect a person to think with all that going on at the dock?”

  “This is New York City. They don’t expect you to think.”

  Connor laughed, shaking his head at his brother, as they moved companionably toward a part of the railing nearest the wharf. He had never in his life seen so many things happening at once, all in one place, all at one time. He glanced at Egan’s face to gauge his reaction to this tumult and was pleased to see it animated with interest in his surroundings. His normal ruddy color was returning.

  “Och, ‘tis a busy place this New York City. I’m hoping we don’t have to stay here too long. I don’t like the confusion,” Connor said woefully.

  “Con. Look around,” Egan said, again pointing to the people on the dock. “‘Tis exciting. People all moving about with a purpose. ‘Tis better than our quiet farm and I’m in favor of spending lots of days here, I am.” His smile grew broader. “I’ll be mixing with the riff-raff and the elite of the world, I will.”

  “Och, da must have sent you with me for a purpose. Now, I’ll be having to look after you, it seems,” Connor said, looking down, his hands stationed on his hips. “Keeping ye out of trouble will be my job, no doubt.”

  “I couldn’t hear ye, Con,” Egan snapped back at him, his eyes growing darker with the beginnings of anger.

  The din was terrific. Several hundred iron horseshoes struck the cobblestone pavements. Boxes being lifted and carried rattled in their crates. Drivers cursed at each other in different languages and dialects.

  The throng and rush of crowds along the waterfront thoroughfares was enormous. A fight broke out in the street, just beyond where Connor could see clearly. No one seemed to pay any attention to the fisticuffs, no matter how near it got.

  “Con, look at the buildings. Look at the size of them. Reaching for the sky they are.”

  “Some look to be five or six stories high. Warehouses the lot of them, I bet. The designs are peculiar, different than our wooden ones at home,” Connor said with great distaste. “Some have…Is that white marble on the front of them? I can’t quite tell from here.”

  “Neither can I,” Egan replied, his eyes wide with delight.

  “I would like to get off this ship,” Connor said, scanning the dock for someone who might have arrived to fetch them, lost in a world he didn’t know or understand. Although he had the address, he assumed his new wife would send someone as her letter stated.

  Noticeable in his easy grin, Egan’s joking ways returned. “Why don’t we see if we can find your widow-woman?”

  Connor grinned back but shook his head. “Not a good idea. Look at us. Beards down to our buttons, it seems. We look a fright, the two of us. We don’t want to scare the woman, do we now?”

  “Aye, you’re right Connor, me lad. What say we get a room for this night, clean ourselves up a bit then call on the lady, all proper-like? You have the address. I’m sure some kindly soul will direct us.”

  “But she did say in her letter someone would be coming for us.” Connor scanned the wharf. “How do people live in this place? There are buildings sitting on buildings. Look! They go on for miles,” he commented, gesturing toward the sky. “As far as you can see. ‘Tis glad I am now, we didn’t bring the horses. The journey would have been hard on them and where would we put them in this wasteland of huge buildings and noisy people? Too much activity…”

  “Aye. There’s little room to move about. ‘Tis what I expected though,” Egan said, his chest puffing up in pride. “I thought New York City would be a large place, with excitement running rampant in the streets and life brimming with new worlds to
conquer.”

  “Did you now?” Connor paused. “Something’s been hanging on to the far reaches of my mind. I’ve been wanting to know for some time, so today I’ll be asking you, Egan, for the first and last time. Why did you come with me, little brother?”

  Egan looked up at him and seemed to consider his answer in a thoughtful manner. He smiled briefly. “I don’t know. Rather, I’m not positive, for sure,” he said. He turned away for a moment before continuing. “Adventure, excitement, a fresh life, different from the old.”

  “Were you not happy with the horses?”

  “They were always more da’s life, Bartley’s and yours. The twins and I had other things to interest us. There were few opportunities in our area but for the horses or some kind of farming. Of course, I could have worked in one of the pubs, but I didn’t think da would approve. But never mind. We managed to be happy, the twins and me.”

  Connor was puzzled. “Are you thinking the twins wanted to come with us to America?”

  “Aye. I know they did, but they wouldn’t leave Da in a fix. They’ll be here sooner or later.” A slow smile crept across Egan’s face. “Besides, none of us thought you should be going off alone. You don’t know how to take care of yourself proper-like.”

  Connor leaned back and let loose one of his booming laughs. “Nae, I agree with you. I sure haven’t taken care of meself. I’ve been taking care of you, wee brother, and a thankless job it’s been.”

  “That you have and kindly, too. Surprised me, it did. But don’t let it give you any ideas. I won’t be beholden to you.”

  Connor let his gaze wander the docks. “Och, ‘tis a busy place this New York City. I know. I keep saying that. I’m hoping we don’t have to stay here too long. I don’t like the place at all,” Connor said woefully.

  “Con. Look around. See what’s out there. Give it a chance and you might even like it.”

  Connor shook his head. “I doubt it.”

  “So let’s go. I want to see more and more. We could take a carriage to the address on the letter you got.”