“Baldwin, Harding cabin?” one asked.
“Yes.”
“We have your luggage.”
“Please come in.” I stepped away from the door and stood in front of Harriet in an attempt to block their view of her. “My sister is just resting.”
The sailors paid her no mind, anxious to deposit our trunks and be off to their regular work. After doing so, they handed me a card, then, with a touch of their caps, escaped the cabin.
I shoved the card in my pocket and dragged my small trunk into my room, but I didn’t feel like unpacking. My mind was racing. I had the sinking feeling that Hari was using the medicine to cope with her situation. Since she’d been taking it, she only looked paler, and it was almost as if she’d come to rely on it. What I should do, I had no notion. I felt overwhelmed with all that was going on. Beneath me, I felt the ship begin to move. I needed air. With one last look at Hari, I left the cabin and stepped out onto the main deck.
The rain had stopped, and a warming sun fought the clouds for dominance. Others were emerging from the cabins to enjoy the change in weather and see the ship off. As I approached the railing, I caught my breath. The full mast of sails was catching the wind at just the right angle, their expanse of white cloth snapping taut in the centre while their edges fluttered like delicate white-gloved fingers over piano keys. The deck under my feet surged forward, and I had to grip a handrail to steady myself.
In the distance, the English coast began to recede. A feeling of profound sadness swept over me as I watched the only home I had ever known fade from sight. My father would have loved this, I thought. I could hear him now: A grand adventure, my dear girl, a grand adventure.
I felt for the card inside my pocket.
Captain Hellyer wishes to welcome you aboard. The Tynemouth is of the barque class of seagoing ship boasting three masts and a steam engine with screw propeller. At 250 feet long she can carry up to three hundred passengers. First- and second-class passengers are welcome on all three decks, while steerage passengers are asked to restrict their movements to the third deck. Have an enjoyable voyage.
Flipping the card over, I found the imprint of a map on the other side. With my index finger, I traced the course our ship would take. The route crossed the English Channel before hugging the coasts of France, Spain, and Portugal, and then taking a sharp right turn to Bermuda and on down the coasts of Brazil and Argentina to our first stop, the Falkland Islands. Then it went around Cape Horn, up the west coasts of Chile, Peru, and Mexico, all the way to the new American state of California and the city of San Francisco before it continued north to the colony of British Columbia and the town of Victoria on Vancouver Island. I resolved to include the card in my first letter to Wiggles.
What awaited us on our journey? I wondered. I had heard of diseases, like smallpox, that carried away half the passengers on a ship before it reached its destination. And then there was the dreaded Cape Horn, the gale-ridden point of southernmost land that was home to countless shipwrecks. If we survive all that, what then? North America was a lawless land teeming with wild men. How would Hari and I make our way?
I didn’t know. All I knew was that Harriet needed my help. That was my goal. First, I would find a way to nurse her back to health, and then I’d figure out how to make things right for her. The little sister taking care of the big one, for a change. As the coastline grew smaller and smaller, I realized that the distance between me and Charles, and George too, for that matter, was growing greater, and the thought eased the fear and worry that had weighed on me for weeks. Whatever came next, it wouldn’t involve them. I knocked three times on the wooden railing for good luck.
Chapter Twelve
When I returned to the cabin, Hari was sitting up in one of the reading chairs and examining what looked like an invitation. She still looked unwell—perspiration dampened her brow—but she had an air of frenzied energy about her. Four or five of her best dresses were laid out haphazardly on the bed. “What’s that?” I asked.
“An invitation to the captain’s private dining room—only fitting, considering my place in society. Nice to know that proper decorum is being observed on board.” She handed me the invitation, a feverish excitement in her eyes. “It’s a very interesting guest list.”
I scanned the list, curious as to what had improved her spirits. “How so?”
“Sir Richard and Lady Persephone Fitzwilliam. She’s the prime minister’s cousin, and he’s a diplomat. They were at my party. Remember?”
I acknowledged a dim recollection.
“Charles would do anything to be close to them,” she said. “If I can befriend them and build a relationship while on board, he’ll hear of it. This can only help our cause.”
I saw the logic, but there was one problem. “If she was at the party, perhaps she’s heard the rumours about me.”
Harriet got up and, taking one of the gowns off the bed, held it next to her, admiring it in the mirror. “We’ll learn that soon enough. Either way, you must behave impeccably whenever you are in her company, as I will. Follow my lead.”
I held up my hand as if making a vow. “Only my best behaviour.” And I meant it.
“She’ll refer to the prime minister as Pam, so don’t ask who Pam is.”
“Pam?”
“Short for Lord Palmerston. Those in the know call him Pam.” Without a maid, Hari was forced to dress herself. She started
