The Bride Ship

“What are you doing?” she cried. “We’re about to sail!”

As if to prove her point, two of the crew began to haul in the gangway.

Clay glanced over his shoulder at the gangway, then back at Allegra. “It seems you’re set on going, Mrs. Howard. And that means I’m going with you.”

* * *

“What are you talking about?” Allie cried. He couldn’t be coming with them. Surely he wasn’t part of Mercer’s expedition. She’d never heard his name mentioned, hadn’t seen him at the hotel with the others. If she had, she might not be here now.

But before he could answer, the ship groaned, heaving away from the pier. Everyone around her rushed to the railing, carrying her and Gillian along with them, and for a moment, she lost sight of Clay.

The sight below them was compelling enough. From the pier, dozens of people waved and cheered. Boys threw their hats in the air. Women fluttered handkerchiefs. After the reception Mercer’s belles had received in the New England papers, Allie found it hard to believe so many New Yorkers would stand in the cold to watch them set sail. It was as if she and her friends were making history.

Those on the Continental were even more excited. Maddie was blowing kisses to the crowd below. Other passengers raised clasped hands over their heads in a show of victory. Even Catherine unbent sufficiently to give a regal wave. No one seemed bereft at what they were leaving behind. Hope pushed the ship down the bay. Hope brightened every countenance. Even the air tasted sweeter.

Perhaps that was why it was so very painful when hope was snatched away.

“Attention! Attention, please!” Mr. Debro hopped up on one of the wooden chests that dotted the deck and waved his hands as if to ensure everyone saw him. “We’ll be stopping shortly at quarantine near Staten Island. Everyone to the lower salon on the orders of Captain Windsor. This way!”

Allie and Maddie exchanged glances, and she saw worry darken her friend’s gaze.

“Very likely it’s nothing to concern us,” Catherine said as if she’d seen the look, as well. “The captain probably wishes to address the passengers before we reach the ocean.”

“Of course,” Allie agreed, but the frown on Maddie’s face said she wasn’t so sure. Allie took Gillian’s hand, and Catherine and Maddie fell in beside them as they headed for the salon.

It was a simple room, with a long wooden table scarred from frequent use. Around it, smaller tables and chairs made of sturdy wood hugged the white-paneled walls under the glow of brass lanterns. At one end, doors opposite each other led up to the deck, with another opening amidships that must lead to the upper salon. Other doors recessed along the way appeared to open onto staterooms. Across the back, a wide window and narrow door gave access to the galley where copper pans glinted in the glow from the fire in the massive black iron stove.

Already the room was crowded, but there seemed to be fewer women than Allie had expected. She’d heard that the expedition was to include as many as seven hundred female emigrants, yet she estimated at most sixty flitting from one group to another. And still she caught not a glimpse of Asa Mercer.

Catherine excused herself a moment to go speak to Mr. Debro, who was frantically shuffling his papers.

Gillian tugged on Allie’s skirts. “Where’s our new room, Mother?”

Mother. The formal word always reminded Allie of how she’d nearly failed her daughter. Gillian’s first word had been Mama, her second Papa. Allie had spent most of her time with her baby daughter, marveling over each change as Gillian grew into a toddler. But as soon as she was walking well, her grandmother had insisted on a governess.

“A small child can be so challenging,” she’d told Allie and Frank over tea in the formal parlor of the Howard mansion. “You’ve never been a mother before, Allegra. You have no experience with children. For Gillian’s sake, we should look for someone older to help you. Don’t you agree, Frank?”

Of course, Frank had agreed. Frank never argued with his mother. Allie had already been wondering about her ability to raise such an active little girl, so she’d agreed, as well. Gillian had moved into the nursery suite with a governess, and her next words had been please and thank-you and little else in between. Mama had never returned to her petal-pink lips.

“We’ll know where to go soon,” Allie promised now, taking her daughter’s hand and giving it a squeeze. “And we can sail off to adventure.”

Gillian nodded, but her frown told Allie she wasn’t sure adventure was something to eagerly anticipate.

Catherine returned then, her rosy lips tightened in obvious disapproval.

“This is a shameful state of affairs,” she said to Maddie and Allie, where they were waiting with Gillian along one wall. “What sort of ship allows stowaways to sneak aboard?”

Stowaways? Allie immediately glanced around for Clay and spotted him leaning against the far wall, a head taller than any other man in the room. He’d been clear from the start that he wanted them to leave. Surely he’d never paid his passage. Had he caused this commotion?

Just then, the young purser raised his voice from where he stood by the doorway to the upper salon.

“May I have your attention, ladies and gentlemen?” he called, and the other voices quieted as people shifted to see him better. Allie was close enough to notice the sheen of perspiration on his brow under the brown cap.

“There seems to be some misunderstanding as to which people have paid their passage,” he said, confirming Catherine’s statement. “When I call your name, please accompany me to the upper salon, where Captain Windsor and the authorities are waiting to examine your tickets. If you do not have the appropriate ticket, you will be asked to gather your things and embark on the tug alongside us, back to New York.”

Allie felt as if the air had left the room. She pulled Gillian closer as voices rose in protest.

“See here, sir,” an older gentleman declared, pushing his way to the front. “I’ve paid for a wife and five children. I’ve spent all we had waiting for this infernal ship to sail. If you send us back, where do you suggest we go?”

“Mr. Mercer assured me no money was needed,” another woman called. “He cannot go back on his word!”

“Where’s Mr. Mercer?”

“Yes, find Mr. Mercer!”

The cry was taken up by a dozen voices.

The purser raised his hand and managed to make himself heard above the din. “Mr. Mercer is presently unavailable, but rest assured, he has been consulted on the matter.”

Allie’s stomach knotted. She had only a letter from Asa Mercer, assuring her and Gillian of places on the ship. She’d never received an actual ticket. Would the captain count her letter as sufficient evidence to allow them to stay? Was her adventure over before it had begun?

Chapter Three (#ulink_af2365e3-58b2-58f2-bd9e-37ecafd52817)

As soon as Clay heard the reason they had stopped, he knew he had to act. While the room erupted in protest, he slipped out the side door and circled around for the upper salon.

It was a more opulent room, with leather-upholstered armchairs positioned along the paneled walls for conversation and a large table running down the center for meals. Doors with brass latches and louvered windows opened onto spacious staterooms. The scent of fresh paint hung in the air.

Another table had been positioned across the top of the salon, where three men, one seated, two flanking him, waited in the brown-and-gold uniforms of the Holladay line.

Clay strode up to them and nodded to the man at the table. “Captain Windsor, sir. I’m Clayton Howard, and I’d like to report a stowaway.”

The captain eyed him. He seemed the very embodiment of the seas he sailed—gray hair, gray eyes, strong body and unyielding disposition.

“Indeed, Mr. Howard,” he intoned. “We are here to make that determination.”

“I’ll spare you the trouble,” Clay said. “I haven’t paid my passage, and I’d like to rectify that matter. Will you take gold certificates?”

Captain Windsor tilted up the cap of his office. “Certainly. But I must ask why you didn’t purchase a ticket beforehand.”

Clay couldn’t lie. “I came here intending to stop my brother’s widow from sailing. Since she is determined to make the trip, I’m coming with her.”

The officers behind the captain exchanged glances, but whether they thought him a tyrant or a fool, he couldn’t tell.

“Very well, Mr. Howard,” the captain said. “Some of the passengers who were supposed to have boarded did not make the sailing, so we should have room for you. Give your money to Mr. Debro when he arrives with our first passenger, and welcome aboard.”

Clay inclined his head. “Would you allow me to stay in the room until I’m certain my sister-in-law’s documents are sufficient?”

Captain Windsor agreed, and Clay went to sit on one of the chairs along the wall, where he could monitor the proceedings.