As a first-class passenger, I could take breakfast anytime. “How about some porridge with a little milk? I can run off to the galley.”
“Yes, please, and tea too. I would love some tea.”
“Of course.” I headed for the kitchen.
Juggling a breakfast tray, I backed into Sarah’s room, pushing open the door to the cabin with my derrière. I set the tray across her lap, then took the baby from her. I felt a surge of affection for the tiny being I held in my arms.
“Have you given this little one a name?” I asked, nuzzling him. He smelled of mother’s milk and mild soap.
“Aye, Jacob, after his father. He was a fine, strong man. This little man will always remind me of him.”
“It’s a lovely name.”
I watched with satisfaction as she took a long drink of the milk and sugar-sweetened tea before attacking her porridge with the dedication of someone who had not eaten in over a day.
When she was finished, I handed Jacob back, and she grasped my hand. “You saved me, and now my son will get a chance at life. He’ll meet his grandpa in the New World.”
“I’m just happy to have helped.”
“I want to give you something as a thank-you.”
“Oh, that’s not necessary,” I said. I was sure she could ill afford any sort of gift, but hugging Jacob to her chest, Sarah padded across the floor to her small trunk where she retrieved a leather satchel. She pulled loose the ribbon that held the cover closed, and sifted through a small stack of vanilla-coloured parchment papers bearing official-looking stamps. She handed me one, then settled back on the bed.
“What’s this?”
She pointed to a flurry of signatures and imprint seals and I read Bearer Certificate, One Share, China Bar Claim, struck in accordance with the laws of the Colony of British Columbia, July 1859.
“My father buys this sort of thing all the time. They’re shares in a mining claim that looks promising. He pays a few coins and then sells them when they hit pay dirt. Father’s always been so very clever. I want you to have one.”
“I can’t possibly take it, Sarah.”
She rocked Jacob back and forth. “It’s yours. Please. It’s only one share; Father sent me ten. Right now, it’s not worth much. But if they strike it rich, who knows?”
I could see her feelings would be hurt if I continued to refuse, so I relented.
“Tell me about your father. How is it that he came to settle in the colonies?”
“His name is Henry Roy. I’m very proud of him and so I went back to my maiden name after Jacob died. He went to British Columbia two years ago to try to find something better. He had a hard time of it in England, couldn’t get work.” She paused, studying me closely. “He’s not white, you see. He was once a slave in Brazil. I don’t tell that to everyone.”
“Oh,” I said, letting her words sink in. “I thought you were Spanish or from the north of France.”
“Most people do.” She looked at me. “It makes things easier for me.”
“Why did you tell me? Do the other women know?”
She shrugged. “You saved Jacob’s life, Charlotte, and mine. I want you to know who I truly am.”
“You’re not the only one with secrets,” I said, then told her how I had come to be on the Tynemouth. Last night had forged a new bond between us, and I felt I could trust her, and finally being able to share my secret with someone other than Hari relieved some of the weight on my shoulders. I didn’t relay all the details, but enough that she understood what had happened between me and George. “So you see,” I said. “Your secret is safe with me.”
“And yours with me,” Sarah said. “I am sorry for what you’ve been through, Charlotte, but a small part of me is glad that it brought you into my life. Without you, I wouldn’t have my son.” She smoothed Jacob’s hair. “And you won’t have to keep my secret for long. Once I go to my father, my heritage will be quite obvious. But he says things have been better for him in the colony than in England. And, of course, in Brazil.”
Charles used to talk of the trade advantage that the plantation owners with slaves enjoyed. But I realized now that he saw it strictly on economic terms with no thought to the human suffering. I hadn’t ever contemplated their lives either, nor had I ever really thought about the freed slaves I saw in England, but if the past month had taught me anything, it was that the world was much bigger than what I saw in my daily life back home.
“Tell me more about your father,” I said.
Sarah smiled, displaying her perfect white teeth. “He worked on a rubber plantation in Brazil, but when he was twenty, his old master brought him to England. New laws banned slavery while they were there, and his master was forced to set him free.”
She told me how he had met her mother, Annie, on a farm when she was just sixteen. The farmers had taken her in as a servant years earlier when she was orphaned. They were happy together for a time, and then the farm was sold. The new owners said they would keep her mother, who was white, but not her dad.
“That’s about the time Mum got sick and died. I was just two. My dad took odd jobs but was always the last hired and the first let go. When I got married, he left to find a new life in the colonies. He thought Jacob would take care of me, and he did, until he was killed in the army. I was so alone. I wrote to my father and he told me to come. I didn’t have enough money for passage, so I signed up with the
