The Wedding Journey

A man with coal-black hair sticking out from beneath his cap stepped forward. “Takin’ a switch to the mule, Hegarty was,” the man supplied. “Frightened the poor beast into tippin’ goods all about the wharf and spilt the cart right atop the laddie here.”

“Cruelty to animals and children isn’t acceptable behavior under my employ,” the doctor proclaimed, already walking away with the boy. “Pack your belongings and leave the ship immediately. You no longer have a job.”

Hegarty dropped the crate with a resounding crash and brushed his beefy hands together. “You can keep your measly wages. Too many smelly Irishmen aboard this vessel for my taste, anyhow.”

The doctor directed an undiscernable look at Maeve. It was apparent from his speech, he was every bit as Irish as she, though obviously from a higher social class and far more educated. In those brief seconds it didn’t matter. The obnoxious man had insulted the majority of people on the wharf.

“Are you boarding the Annie McGee?” At her nod, the doctor asked, “Can someone see to carrying your belongings?”

“Aye, my sisters.”

“Call to them, if you will, please. All of you can come aboard with me.”

Quickly, she turned and called out before the crowd had time to close in behind them. “Nora! Bridget! Bring everything and follow us!” She addressed the doctor again. “You’re taking him aboard the sailing vessel?”

“Can’t very well leave him here unattended, can I? We’ve no other choice.”

“He said he was with two brothers, but I saw only one, I did. A lad younger than this boy.”

“The crewman will search them out,” he replied. “I suspect if there are brothers, they’ve either sneaked on the ship already or will board as soon as they have the opportunity.”

Maeve left her last footprint on the soil of her native land and stepped onto the wooden gangplank.

Reaching the deck, she kept pace with the long-legged doctor, and they made their way to the companion ladder. He descended ahead of her, and she leaned as far forward as she dared without toppling over to keep hold of the tourniquet.

Once below deck, he led the way along a corridor until they reached a closed door. She had a free hand, so she opened it and stood back. The doctor was so tall, he had to bend to enter the room, but Maeve walked through upright. Her sisters followed, with Nora bending to fit under the doorway.

“Set your belongings inside the door,” he instructed. “I apologize for my lack of manners, ladies. I’m Dr. Flynn Gallagher.”

“Oh, goodness, no,” Nora objected. “You were involved with an emergency situation and could hardly have been expected to tip your hat.”

“He isn’t wearing a hat,” Bridget said with a grin.

Nora ignored her. “I’m Nora Murphy. This is Bridget, and your capable helper there is Maeve.”

He had already laid down the boy and was now washing his own hands in a basin. Beside it was a stack of folded towels and linens. The dispensary was impeccably clean.

“Will you assist me?” he asked Maeve.

Clearly he had no one else to help now. She couldn’t have imagined that Hegarty fellow would have been of much use anyway. The doctor took hold of the comb while she washed her hands as thoroughly as he had.

Dr. Gallagher’s brows rose in obvious appreciation for the care she took. On her return, he handed her a small brown bottle and a cloth folded into a square.

“What will happen if his brothers aren’t found?” she asked. She didn’t want to see this lad separated from his family.

“Where do you suppose your brothers are right now?” Dr. Gallagher asked Sean.

Sean didn’t meet his eyes. He was sweating from the pain.

“They’re stowing aboard, aren’t they? Was that what the three of you cooked up?”

“What would happen to them if they did?” he asked.

The doctor nodded at Maeve. “We’ll see them eventually. Go ahead.”

She uncapped the bottle, held it well away from her nose and caught a whiff to test its contents. Knowing full well what it was and what he intended it for, she poured a small amount on the cloth, capped the bottle and held the fabric over the child’s nose. “Close your eyes now, laddie. The doctor’s going to fix you up as good as new, he is.”

Dr. Gallagher cut away Sean’s trousers, covered him with toweling and doused the area with alcohol. The boy’s eyes were peacefully closed as he proceeded.

“I’ll need a good helper for this voyage. I’d like to hire you for the position of my assistant.”

“But…” Caught off guard, she looked up. His diligent attention was fastened on his task. “I have no formal training.”

“Experience and quick thinking are often worth more than book learning, Miss Murphy. You’ve already proven yourself more than competent.”

Maeve thought of all their neighbors and her own parents whom she’d treated and seen worsen and eventually die. Two weeks ago she hadn’t been able to save her own da. She didn’t know if she had the courage to take care of any more sick people. “I don’t know.”

The handsome doctor glanced toward Nora and Bridget as he took instruments from a small metal box and threaded a needle. “How shall I convince your sister to become my assistant?”

“May I step closer to speak with her?” Nora asked.

“Have you a weak stomach?”

“I’ll be averting my eyes, if that’s what you ask.”

He gestured for her to come forward. “Yes, come speak to her.”

Nora shot Bridget a glance and hurried to Maeve’s side, deliberately keeping her eyes averted from the surgery.

“This is a divine opportunity,” she whispered in Maeve’s ear. “Think on it. We spent nearly every last penny on tickets and have nothing left for emergencies or even lodging when we get to Boston, should our plans fall through. We tried in vain to seek positions before the ship sailed. And now this perfect opportunity is presented to you and you want to refuse it?”

“If it aids your decision,” the doctor interrupted. “I’ll secure positions for the three of you. The cook always needs help preparing meals for the crew, and only an hour ago one of the passenger families was inquiring about a governess.”

Maeve looked up into Nora’s pleading blue eyes. Her sisters needed her to agree to this. Previously they’d been turned away each time they’d sought work on the ship. They’d risked the voyage anyway, but their welfare depended on someone earning a wage.

“We accept your kind offer,” Maeve said with a surprising sense of anticipation. She prayed her abilities were enough that she would be a help. The thought of learning from a skilled physician buoyed her enthusiasm.

“Very well, then.” Within minutes, he had neatly sutured a punctured vein as well as the flesh on Sean’s leg. “Your quick thinking spared the lad’s life. He might have bled to death if you hadn’t fashioned that tourniquet.”

“I knew what to do and I did it.”

“I can finish up from here. The three of you should go get settled. Afterward, you can return and help me store the supplies. We’ll have plenty of time to discuss working arrangements once the ship is underway.”

He glanced at Nora. “Is one of you better with children than the other?”

“That would be Bridget,” Nora replied. “I’ve had more experience in a kitchen.”

“The family I spoke of are the Atwaters,” he said to Bridget. “They have three daughters with whom they need help on the voyage. Mr. Atwater believed he had a governess, but at the last moment, she disappeared with their silver spoons and the cobbler’s son. I’ll send a note of recommendation with you. You can inquire above about his present whereabouts.”

The doctor cut away the remainder of Sean’s trousers and rolled them into a ball for the rubbish bin. “And I’ll let Mr. Mathers know he can expect you in the galley tomorrow bright and early,” he said to Nora.

“We’re indebted to you, Dr. Gallagher,” she replied.

“Not at all. I’m sure you’ll each make a valuable contribution to the voyage.” He inquired about their cabin number and gave them simple directions.

Gathering their things, the sisters made their way back out to the corridor. Once the door closed behind them, Bridget grasped Maeve’s arm through her sleeve. “The angels surely blessed that man with staggering good looks.” She gave Maeve a grin. “I think he likes you.”

“What a nonsensical dreamer you are,” Maeve replied. “He was as staid and solemn as a grave digger.”

Perhaps that comparison had been thoughtless, so soon after burying their father, because Bridget got tears in her eyes. Maeve too often spoke without thinking.

Other passengers had begun boarding the ship, carrying their belongings and herding children. Nora led the way, turning a grateful smile on Maeve. “Thank you. This income sets my mind at ease.”

“Now we’ll all feel more prepared to dock in America,” Maeve assured her.

They’d been assigned a small cabin that housed twelve bunks anchored to the walls by chains. On either side of the door were lockers with padlocks. Several other women had already chosen lower bunks and stowed their things, so the sisters chose beds near each other, with Bridget above Nora and Maeve on the next top bunk. This would be the first time they’d slept in separate beds, so the closeness would be a comfort.

Quickly, they stored their clothing and the food they’d brought, so they could hurry above.

Back on deck, Bridget was first to the railing. Maeve and Nora stood on either side. A small crowd stood at the wharf, waving scarves and hats. Maeve didn’t recognize any of her countrymen, but she waved back. What a monumental moment this was. A life-changing day. To embed the scene in her memory, she took in every rich detail.

“Weigh the anchor!” came a shout, and she turned to spy a bearded man she assumed was the captain. A tingle of expectancy shimmied up her spine. She held her breath.

The anchor chain had become entangled with the cables of several fishing boats, so the moment lost momentum and her nerves jumped impatiently. At last, with much squeaking and creaking and dripping seaweed, the anchor chain was reeled in. The sound of men’s voices rose in a chant as the sailors unreefed the enormous topsails and the bleached canvas billowed against the vivid blue sky. The sails caught the wind and the ship glided into the bay.

Goose bumps rose along Maeve’s arms and the thrill of expectancy increased her heart rate.

In a matter of minutes, an expanse of water separated them from land, and the lush green coast with its majestic steplike cliffs came into view. She strained to see far enough to recognize the familiar outcroppings near her village, but of course the Murphy sisters had traveled a far piece to get to the ship, and it couldn’t be seen from here. Perhaps when they were farther out in the ocean.

Maeve glanced to find Nora’s face somber, her expression tense, as though concerned for their future. Between them, Bridget’s soft weeping caught her notice. Always sentimental, a friend to all, Bridget would miss their friends and the people of their village. Her love for their community had been tainted by that despicable Daniel McGrath leaving her brokenhearted at the altar, however. It gave Maeve a sense of satisfaction to know that Bridget was leaving him behind once and for all.

Maeve put her arm around Bridget’s shoulders and gave her a comforting hug. “’Tis a brand new start, ma milis.”

Bridget dabbed her eyes and nose with her plain white cotton handkerchief and gave her a tremulous smile. “I’m glad to start over. But I shall miss what used to be. Before Mother and Da died. Before the famine. But I know we have much to look forward to. In America we’ll solve the mystery of that letter and learn who Laird is. We’ll live in the lovely house by the ocean and plant flowers.”

Nora moved to stand on the other side of Bridget and wrapped her arm around her waist. “Don’t raise your hopes too high, just in case.”

“At the very least we can learn who that Laird fellow was to Mother,” Maeve said.

She turned from the diminishing view of their homeland as they cleared the breakers and left the lighthouse behind to face her sisters. “We’re headed for the land of opportunity.”

She didn’t know what the trip held in store, but she liked the way it had begun. The doctor had treated her—and her sisters—with dignity and respect. Bridget’s teasing comments flashed through her mind, but she quickly set them aside. Yes, Dr. Gallagher did possess startling good looks, no doubt about that. Looking at him nearly took her breath away. She would have to work on composure.

The last person he would ever find of interest was a simple farm girl away from home for the first time. Ignoring her own attraction meant her new job was going to be challenging in more ways than one.

Chapter Three

“Come in,” Flynn called at a rap on the closed door.

“Couldn’t find any of the boy’s kin around Minot’s Ledge,” a bearded sailor told him, setting down the last of the supply crates. “Inquired along the wharf, and learned he was beggin’ handouts from the passengers waitin’ in line. Villagers from nearby say he’s an orphan.”

“That goes along with his story. In which case I doubt anyone’s looking for him,” Flynn replied. “Soon as he’s on his feet, he can be my errand boy.”

“Looks mighty scrawny,” the man noted with skepticism. “Don’t know how much work you’ll be gettin’ out of ’im.”

“You’d be scrawny, too, if you’d never had a mother to put meals on the table.”

“I’m supposin’ you’re right about that, doc. My dear ma, God rest her soul, set out a feast every noon and evenin’. Miss her cooking somethin’ fierce, I do.”

Flynn thanked him for searching, and the man went back to his tasks.

Before Sean awoke, Flynn washed the boy’s grimy face, hands and bony arms. For sure, the lad needed a good scrubbing, so he did the best he could. After removing his ill-fitting shoes and seeing Sean’s dirty blistered feet, he got more clean water and soap, scrubbed, then treated and bandaged both.

It was obvious this boy had gone without proper clothing and food for some time. Bones protruded at his wrists and ankles, and his ribs stood out in sharp relief. What was wrong with the world that children starved in the streets? The signs of such clear poverty made him feel shame at the thought of his own life of wealth and privilege.

He thought of the petite little miss he’d hired as his assistant. He was used to ladies who never mussed their elegant dresses and who always had every hair in place. They were at home in drawing rooms and shone seated at elegantly appointed dining tables.

Maeve Murphy, on the other hand, he could picture running barefoot across a meadow or gathering flowers and wearing them in her hair. She was natural. Unaffected.

And he had no business thinking about her. He had no room in his life for complications, not even a beautiful, obviously compassionate and capable distraction.

Sean opened his eyes and blinked. “Am I dead?”

“You’re not dead, laddie. You’re stitched up and in my dispensary aboard the Annie McGee. You’ll be good as new in a few days.”

The boy’s face blanched even paler, and he raised his head off the pillow. “What of me brothers? Am I at sea all alone?”

“I sent someone to search, but he didn’t turn up any brothers.”

“Gavin and Emmett are surely worried by now.” Tears glistened in his eyes.

“I suspect you were planning to board the ship without paying passage.” He raised a brow. “Am I correct?”

Sean gave him a sheepish nod.

“It’s also my guess that your brothers found their way aboard. That both of them were nowhere to be found on the wharf is a good indication. Did you arrange a meeting place, the three of you?”

“Aye. On the foredeck at sundown.”

“I shall be there on your behalf.”

The boy’s expression turned to one of terror. “Will they be thrown overboard? I heard sharks follow the ships.”

“No one will be throwing children overboard,” Flynn assured him. “And this isn’t one of the coffin ships of years past.”

Flynn himself had lobbied for legislation to put an end to the overcrowded and filthy, disease-infested vessels. Now there were passenger limits and a doctor aboard each ship. He was putting in his own time to see that the plan was fulfilled.

“Lie down and rest now. I’m going to get you something to eat so you can build up your strength.”

“I have no way to be payin’ you for tendin’ my leg,” Sean said in a thick voice. “Or for food.”

Flynn got a knot in his chest. It took him a moment to speak, so he busied himself rolling a clean length of bandage. “If not for my fool assistant, you wouldn’t have been injured, so the responsibility lies with me. You owe me nothing.”

“Thank you, sir. I’ll keep you in me prayers, I will.”

Flynn covered him with a blanket and at last met his brown eyes. Young as he was, those eyes had seen the worst side of life and known more misery than any child should. His mention of prayer caught Flynn off guard. Perhaps the lad had more sway with the Lord of heaven than he. He hoped so, for the boy’s sake. “You’re welcome. Now sleep.”

* * *

Bridget had gone off to meet with Mr. Atwater and acquaint herself with the family, so while Nora made up their bunks, Maeve headed up to locate the line for their daily allotment of food.

The topsails snapped in the wind that had swiftly carried the Annie McGee out to the ocean. The sharp cliffs of her homeland were still visible, and the sky was vivid blue. She paused at the rail to gaze out over the water and have another look at the receding cliffs. From here they all looked the same, so spotting Castleville was hopeless.

Was anyone she knew back home watching the ocean and seeing this ship on the horizon? She had spotted vessels many times, never dreaming she’d ever be aboard one.

The sun’s reflection on the water nearly blinded her. She blinked and refocused on the person beside her.

The tall woman wore a flounced dress and matching capelike jacket, with six inches of lace at her wrists. Requirements for boarding had specified no crinolines or hoops, so her layered skirts hung shapelessly and a little too long on the deck.

Maeve’s plain brown dress was far more practical, though poverty had driven her choice, not fashion or even practicality. The woman’s dark auburn hair was parted in the middle and severely drawn back. She stood gazing at the horizon, and appeared to be a few years older than Maeve’s mother had been when she’d died.

“I’m Maeve Murphy,” she said by way of introduction. A good many people were going to dwell in close quarters for the duration of the voyage; she might as well get to know a few of them.

The woman turned and glanced down at her, taking in her long red curls and plain dress.

Maeve felt at a distinct disadvantage, being petite and obviously from a different social station. She resisted the urge to smooth her worn skirts with a calloused hand. They were fellow countrymen, after all, embarking on a journey together. There was no reason they couldn’t be friends.

“This is all so exciting. I’ve never before been away from Castleville. Have you traveled aboard a ship before?”

The woman’s chin inched up until she was literally looking down her nose at Maeve. She took a handkerchief from her sleeve and held it over her nose as though she smelled something odiferous. “Someone of your station should not be speaking to a lady, unless first addressed. You’ve obviously had extremely poor training. Where is your mistress?” She glanced around. “Shouldn’t you be seeing to her needs instead of bothering passengers?”

Maeve drew a blank. No words formed, and humiliation burned its way up her neck to her cheeks. She’d never been dressed down in such a rude manner, but then she’d never mingled with anyone other than the people of her village—simple people just like the Murphys. The doctor had been kind and mannerly, so this woman’s rude behavior caught her off guard. “I have no mistress. My sisters and I are taking this voyage to Massachusetts together.”

“Then it will serve you well to learn your place. Never address a lady unless spoken to. And I certainly have no intention of speaking to you again.” The fabric of the woman’s skirts swooshed as she gathered them and marched off as though she couldn’t get away fast enough.

Maeve stared at the two elaborately braided buns on the back of her head. The deliberate shun pierced her previously buoyant mood.

Maeve was from a poor family. The landowners and their families lived very different lives from hers, but she’d imagined that in a situation like this, the boundaries would be less severe. Apparently there was no escaping the attitudes of those with more money than humanity.

She gave the ocean one last look and made her way across the deck until she found the line for food supplies and stood at the end. The man ahead of her was dressed in a black suit and stylish hat. He glanced at her, but since her previous lesson still stung, she kept her silence.

Minutes later she was joined by a woman in a pretty white-on-tan silk dress with a flounced skirt and long puffed sleeves. Surreptitiously, she admired the woman’s pretty dark hair, and the way it gleamed in the sunlight and remained gathered within its confines, but quickly turned away.

The woman spoke from behind her. “Aren’t you the young lady who helped that boy on the wharf this morning?”

Surprised, Maeve turned to face her. “Yes, ma’am. The lad’s name is Sean McCorkle.”

“That was very quick thinking, indeed. I dare say the lad might not have survived had you not gone to his aid when you did.”

Pleased by the woman’s friendly manner, she warmed to her immediately. “Dr. Gallagher is a fine surgeon,” she replied. “Sean should be on his feet in no time.”

“Have you chosen a spot on deck for your evening fire yet?” the woman asked.

“Not yet.” A brisk gust of wind caught Maeve’s hair, and self-consciously, she quickly fashioned it into an unruly fat braid and tucked the end under her collar. She would find a bit of twine when she got back to the cabin.

“I’m Aideen Nolan. I’m traveling with my aunt, Mrs. Kennedy.”

“A pleasure to meet you, ’tis. I’m Maeve Murphy. My sisters and I are headed for Boston—well, a small village nearby called Faith Glen, actually.”

The woman glanced at the nearby passengers. “I suggest we reserve our spaces next to one another. That way we’ll be assured that at least one of our nearby supper companions will be familiar. Unless, of course, you have other plans. I’m probably being presumptuous.”

Maeve gave her a bright smile. “No, we hadn’t made plans yet. I’d very much like to find a place near yours. I’m confident my sisters will be glad for friendly company, as well. I’ve already had an encounter with a rather unpleasant woman who put me in my place for speaking to her.” Maeve glanced down at her clothing. “Thought I was someone’s maid, she did.”

“I’d wager that was Mrs. Fitzwilliam,” Aideen said. She leaned near and spoke quietly. “The gentleman just ahead is her manservant. I know her from the ladies’ league in Galway.” She took a brochure from the deep pocket of her skirt and flipped it open. “This list of preparations and rules for the journey instructs us to select the areas where we will be cooking our meals for the next several weeks.” She glanced at Maeve. “Are you familiar with cooking procedures?”

“Indeed I am,” Maeve replied with a sigh. “My sisters and I have been preparing meals since we were quite young.”

“I shall be forever indebted if you will show me how.”

Maeve had suspected from her dress and speech that Aideen was well-to-do, and her admission confirmed that thinking. “I’d be happy to tutor you, but you won’t be indebted. Communities help one another, and we’re going to be a community while we’re aboard. Like a village on the sea, wouldn’t you say?”