Tariana grabbed her parasol and a draw-string purse, and slipped from the house. The parsonage was located north of the commercial core, close to the church, on one of the three downtown streets. Her father’s place of worship was one of few that remained on the lower bluff, and that pleased Tariana. She loved living there, with the grand spectacle of the falls, the view of the forests and mountains in the distance, the sound of the train’s lonesome whistle, and being able to take in the hubbub surrounding the ship’s docking area.
What had begun as a fur-trading settlement – with hermits learning to adapt to life with the Natives – soon transformed when the American settlers and immigrants arrived. Manufacturing supplies for the miners during the gold rush turned a good profit, and a few of the old-timers, who’d returned to live there after they’d exhausted the lure of yellow fever, attended the Oregon Baptist Church. It hadn’t taken long for Oregon City to grow, given the coming of trains and huge ships to transport and receive goods. The Imperial Flour Mill had been built when Tariana was just a baby, in a perfect location to take advantage of local transportation. Many companies followed suit, their owners dreaming of sowing their wild oats and securing their fortunes.
Tariana wound through the streets, nodding and briefly conversing with neighbors who greeted her. As she neared the dock, she saw Michael talking to a man and headed their way. He appeared to be very dirty. Tariana giggled when she realized Frances would be appalled to see her man laboring with the many who jumped on and off the steamship. Maybe she should have brought her along.
Michael noticed her approach and beckoned to her from the widespread dock. “Good afternoon, Tariana. You’re far too gorgeous to be seen with the likes of this sorry lot.” He took her by the shoulders and kissed her cheek. “You are just in time. Had a bit of a team effort emergency,” he said, brushing his soiled clothing, “and I’m afraid I do not look the best at the moment.”
“You look like a man totally immersed in his job who has generously offered to show me his workplace. Thank you for the invitation. I’ve looked forward to this since Sunday.” Tariana fanned her face to cool the sudden flush.
He pointed to the ship under repair. “This is The Misty Marion. I’m not sure who named it, but it is documented as such. When we’re finished, it’ll give the best of them a run for their money.”
“I like the idea of flatboats, simple and effective. How fast does a steamship travel?” Tariana asked.
Michael appeared excited to share the answer. “You need to move forward with the times, Tariana. They can go downstream twice as fast as the flat boats they replaced, but the great thing is that they can travel upstream just as easily. They’ve been clocked at five miles an hour.”
“I’ve never been out of Oregon City. Can you believe that?”
“I suppose your Father’s spiritual business keeps him tied to the homeland.”
“Do they ever get stowaways?” Tariana asked.
“Oh, yes. I’m not a captain, but I understand the penalty is stiff.” He grinned. “But not as stiff as in the days of old. Pirates made unwanted guests walk the plank.”
“That was very harsh.”
Michael laughed. “Come on – I am eager to show you how to take your future dream trip in style.”
They walked to the long, wooden plank used to board the vessel. He held her arm as she ascended, and if she weren’t so enraptured with the outing, she’d have gloated at such closeness as a slight victory.
“The Oregon Railroad and Navigation Company just purchased the steamship company last year, and with the take-over came a number of iron-clad steamships that run the Columbia River. They were able to take this one out of duty for sadly needed repairs.”
They leaned over a large opening in the belly of the bottom deck. Tariana felt dizzy. “It’s so deep.”
“It needs to be to hold all that grain. There is a huge compartment down there for cargo. It’s a big cost to move this rig down river. Of course, we do have passengers’ quarters for folks who pay to ride, and those areas need modernizing. People are getting fussier.” He pointed below. “The hull of the ship can be breached over time, so we need to weight it with some concrete.”
He straightened up and pointed to other doors on the deck. “The steam room is over there; six double-ended boilers. Uses a lot of coal every day.”
“And over there are the stairs to the steerage compartment. They crowd six hundred travelers into third-class accommodations.” He took her arm. “You’ll probably be more interested in the next two floors – just in case you ever buy a ticket to go somewhere.”
She could not hold back her excitement. Should a day to see more of her country ever occur in her mediocre life, she would jump at the chance, but she’d eventually return because her heart belonged in Oregon City.
“These two floors serve two hundred saloon guests and sixty second-class,” Michael said. “I’ve been saving to bring Frances aboard for its maiden voyage in August. We’ll be on our honeymoon, then.”
“First-class, right?” Tariana asked, not wanting to be reminded that the couple was engaged.
“Yes. It’s been tight to save for the vacation, but I think she’ll enjoy it.”
The main public room, the grand saloon, was located in the front of the ship. It was big enough for all two hundred passengers to dine in. Men were standing on ladders to reach the nine-foot ceiling. It
