Anna's Crossing Read online

  The screw jack itself wasn’t a heavy piece of equipment, but it did a powerful job. Like a rudder of a ship, Bairn realized, as they rolled a barrel of water under the cracked beam. Small but mighty. The screw jack would be elevated on top of the barrel for sustained support to the beam, assuming it worked.

  Bairn lined it up under the beam, his experienced eye telling him where it needed to be. The captain watched nervously as Bairn turned and turned and turned the handle with help from Christian and Josef. It turned easily at first, straining and squeaking toward the end. This, Bairn knew, was the moment of truth. The lower cracked portion of the beam must lift. He turned with all his might, Christian’s large hands covering his to provide more strength. There was absolute silence in the lower deck as the passengers gathered to watch. The only sounds were those of Bairn’s and Christian’s panting breaths, sweat streaming down their faces, and the sound of wood shifting: creaking, creaking, creaking.

  Until the open wound of the beam slid together with a sweet ahhh.

  Bairn released the handle of the screw jack and stepped back, his eye studying the beam, running a hand along the crack. It was barely noticeable. Satisfied, he gave the captain a nod, and then he scanned the crowd to find Anna. Her eyes were shining bright and soft as spring sunshine, and as soon as their eyes caught, he couldn’t help but give her a slight smile. Then he turned his attention back to the makeshift repair.

  As soon as Bairn hammered in a post for support, the captain decided, with a pleased look on his face, that the beam was seaworthy. The Charming Nancy was sound enough to continue on.

  After Captain Stedman hurriedly returned to the main deck, Bairn packed up his tools and pondered the unshakable resolve of the Peculiar People. They knew next to nothing about the sea or the land for which they were bound, and despite all they had so far suffered—delays, seasickness, cold, and the scorn and ridicule of many sailors—they did everything in their power to help him repair the fractured beam.

  “Why?” he asked Anna as she walked beside him toward the companionway ladder. “Just to own a piece of sod? Is that really why yer people would sacrifice so much to head to America?”

  “The land is important, yes. But we are willing to endure almost anything if it means we can worship and serve God as we please.”

  It baffled him. Bairn was accustomed to money and ambition as the driving forces behind a man. Not a desire to worship.

  Anna seemed to read his thoughts. “The love of God is like the ocean. You can see its beginnings but not its end. How can we not worship such a great God? How can anyone?”

  She spoke with such confidence he was tempted to believe her. Almost. But he didn’t know how to answer her. He never did. She had such profound thoughts and he cared naught for the things she spoke of. In fact, he felt extremely discomforted by her talk about God and worship. Instead, he gazed around the lower deck, and his eyes landed on a woman who was staring impassively out the cannon portal. She never moved, nor turned around to see what was going on, unlike the curious other passengers who crowded around the repair of the cracked beam.

  Blue devils, he supposed. It was the seaman’s term for one who floundered in melancholy, gripped by a debilitating mental fatigue. Even among experienced crew, it was not unusual for a sailor to be caught by the blue devils, to lie in his hammock for most of the day, unable or unwilling to stir. “Is she ill?”

  Anna looked in the direction his chin jutted. “No. Well, yes, in a way. She’s grieving. That’s Felix’s mother. Her son died right before we left in April and she hasn’t quite been herself.” A look of worried uncertainty flashed across her face. “She’ll be better after we reach Port Philadelphia and she is reunited with her husband.”

  “He’s already there?”

  She nodded. “The church sent him ahead to purchase land for everyone. He’s the bishop for our church. Our leader.”

  “I thought Christian Müller was the leader.”

  “No. He’s a minister. We’re blessed to have both in the New World. A church can only survive a new settlement if they have leadership.”

  “Why?”

  “For the sacraments. For communion or baptisms, or marriage.”

  Bairn’s gaze shifted beyond Anna to the woman at the cannon portal. There was something familiar to him about the set of her shoulders, the way her head tilted to one side as she peered out the portal, but then he heard his name called and his attention turned to the captain, waiting for him at the top of the companionway.

  As he reached the top step, the captain said, “Well, that might be a miracle in the making.”

  “Aye.”

  The captain suddenly keeled over and retched a dry heave. “Sorry, I—” He bent and retched again. “I thought the crew was only exaggerating about the stench.” He wiped his mouth on his coat sleeve. “The pigs smell better.”

  Bairn felt the same way. The stench of the lower deck—urine, animal manure, body odor, vomit—always roiled his senses. He couldn’t blame Anna or Felix for getting above deck whenever they could.

  “’Tis worse after a storm. The seasickness, that is.” Dare he say something? “One of the Peculiars, that lassie who speaks English—she asked if the passengers could come to the upper deck. Take a turn around the deck each day. To get a bit of sunshine and fresh air and exercise.”

  “There’s over one hundred people down there! ’Tis safer down below for them.”

  Two hundred and seventy-nine passengers, Bairn thought, twice as many as should be allowed. “Mayhap just a few at a time. Not during watch change, o’ course. And only in fair weather.”

  The captain didn’t say yes, but he didn’t say no. Bairn decided not to press it. The captain tended to believe that his opinion was inevitably the right opinion, the only opinion, and he did not have patience for those who thought otherwise.

  “They are a Peculiar people of a peculiar sect. Nay, a fiercely determined people.” The captain held his thumb and index finger an inch apart. “I was this close to turning back, despite the loss we would face.” They walked along the deck toward the fo’c’sle deck. “Assuming we make it to Port Philadelphia in one piece, the ship will need to be careened in a shipyard for repairs to that cracked beam.”

  “I doot the repair will be quick. This might be the opportunity to have the Charming Nancy updated.” Bairn paused, folded his arms over his chest. Timing was everything with Captain Stedman. “Sir, I’m sure yer aware that the ship is overdue to have her bottom cleaned and the copper sheets near the water line replaced.”

  The captain rubbed his jaw, pondering Bairn’s recommendation. “Mayhap you’re right. ’Twill be too late in the season to chance another Atlantic crossing.” He brightened. “My brother said he had outfitted his ship with three bunks in the lower deck, floor to ceiling. I believe there is room in the Charming Nancy for such an arrangement. That could also be done this winter.”

  Bairn stifled a groan. The Charming Nancy was seriously overcrowded as she was, so many passengers crammed in with no room for an apple to fall. And the captain wanted to fit in even more passengers?

  Bairn had assumed the captain had been pressured into overcrowding the lower deck by the profit-hungry ship owners of the Charming Nancy, and Georg Schultz had been happy to oblige by finding willing Germans. But now he realized it was the captain himself who had instigated the overcrowding. What would next summer’s passage be like for those poor pathetic souls?

  “Mr. Pocock wishes to return to England as soon as we reach Port Philadelphia. If we winter the ship, I’ll stay with her.” The captain glanced at him. “I’m going to need a new first mate for next summer’s passage of the Germans. Bairn, I’m counting on you.”

  This . . . this was what Bairn had been aiming for. First mate! After that, captain. It was right there, right in front of him. So close he could reach out and grasp it.

  And yet a knot formed in his middle.

  13

  July 21st, 1737

/>   This morning, Maria was in a fuss in that way she had, telling Christian exactly what was on her mind. Felix crept behind a leather trunk to have a listen. He took great care to remain unseen, especially by Maria. You wouldn’t want to provoke her, to cross her or speak out of turn. Not that he was all that interested in anything Maria might have to say to Christian, but he was already bored and it was only nine in the morning. Then he heard Anna’s name and his ears perked up.

  It seemed that Maria didn’t like the turn things seemed to be taking between Anna and Bairn.

  “Cut to the cackle. What exactly is your point, Maria?” Christian said, because she was going on and on, no end in sight.

  “Love.”

  “Love?” Christian echoed.

  “Anna might be falling in love with him,” Maria said. “That carpenter is a stranger, not one of us. An unholy and proud man. We don’t know a thing about him. They’re spending altogether too much time together and you started it.”

  “Me?”

  “All this interpreting and translating keeps throwing them together. It troubles me, Christian. She’s desperate to find a man by now—poor girl, after all, she’s nearing twenty. But she must hold out for somebody else. Somebody right.”

  “Who?” Christian said in his longsuffering way. “There is no one else.”

  “Exactly. This is why she needs our help. You need to intervene, before it’s too late.”

  Christian’s bushy eyebrows shot up. “You think it’s that serious? Maybe you’re mistaken. Maybe he doesn’t want to marry her at all.”

  “And that’s another worry.” Maria adjusted her shawls to cover her expansive middle. No one, Felix thought, could ever call Maria a dainty woman. “Anna’s grandmother gave me the responsibility to watch over her. There’s a problem brewing and we need to solve it.”

  “Oh for pity’s sake, Maria. Perhaps it’s not a problem at all. Perhaps you’ve created something out of nothing.” He blinked through his spectacles and fingered his long beard. “Anna has always displayed a great deal of common sense. She knows how to conduct herself.”

  Maria snapped her fingers in the dusty air. “Men don’t know about these things. Christian, something must be done before things go any further between that carpenter and our Anna. It must be stopped.” She pointed to him. “And you are the minister. It is your duty to protect our Anna from a life of wicked debauchery.”

  Felix crept back behind the trunk before he could see Christian’s reaction to that order from his bossy, know-it-all wife. Felix didn’t think anything should be stopped between Anna and Bairn. He liked Bairn, quite a bit. But then Squinty-Eye’s awful dog spotted him and started across the aisle toward him, toenails tapping on the wooden planks, letting the whole world know about his hiding spot. Felix reached into his pocket and tossed a piece of hardtack to the dog, distracting him just long enough to scoot away and head over to the stairs to go above deck, and all thoughts of Anna and Bairn slipped away.

  Felix may not be able to speak English quickly and fluidly, but he could understand much of what was said. Especially what the sailors said. Some shook their heads north and south at him, some shook their heads east and west. There were others who simply pointed him to the hatch. The time he spent above deck greatly expanded his vocabulary, mostly with words that would horrify his mother and sorrow his father.

  Even if one of the sailors sent him back down the companionway, which they did quite often, he much preferred that insult to watching Catrina and her little sisters play tag around the lower deck.

  After the midday meal, Christian found Felix and asked to be led to the carpentry shop. Squinty-Eye’s awful dog came along, uninvited. They stood at the door, waiting quietly until Bairn noticed them. Christian had something to say to Bairn and needed someone to translate, which made Felix feel very important. Bairn looked up, surprised at the sight of the two of them at his door, and invited them to come in. He offered seats on upturned nail kegs, but Christian declined.

  Felix cleared his throat. He was here on official business as translator for Christian, and his chest stretched with pleasure, though he had no idea what was on the minister’s mind. He hoped it had something to do with increasing the quantity of food the passengers were given. Hunger rumbled in his stomach and he crossed his arms against his middle to stifle the growling sounds. “Christian Müller has a ting to tell you.”

  Christian took off his hat and paused, with his hand resting on the crown of the hat, as if he had to collect his thoughts and carefully choose his words. When he lifted his head, he was very much the church minister, his eyes all solemn, his mouth stern. Felix knew that look well. As the minister, it was Christian’s duty to be sure everyone followed the straight and narrow way and conformed to what it meant to be a church member. He began to speak in their dialect, expecting Felix to interpret. “I am here to tell you to keep your distance from Anna.”

  Bairn tilted his head, confused.

  Felix looked from Christian to Bairn, thinking fast. “Christian says Anna likes her new shoes.”

  Bairn’s eyebrows lifted in surprise.

  Christian continued. “You are not of our faith. You will lead her down a path to the wicked world and all the evil that’s in it.” He motioned to Felix to translate.

  “He vants you to be happy and live a long life.”

  Bairn looked at Felix as if he could not bring himself to believe him. “Herr Müller—”

  “Christian. Call me Christian.” His head jerked up and around as if he was pointing around the shop with his beard. “A relationship with those who are not of our faith can only bring dishonor.” He glanced at Felix to translate.

  “Call him Christian, he says. He vants you to . . .” He searched for the right words, and then a brilliant idea popped into his head. “He vants you to teach me all about ships, so I can be a sailor one day.”

  Christian stared at Bairn, his face settling into deep lines, and Bairn stared back, his head held high, erect. “Truly?” Bairn’s glance traveled from Christian to Felix and back to Christian. “This is truly what he wants?”

  “Truly,” Felix said, nodding vigorously.

  Christian nodded, pleased. “Do you understand what I have asked?” His arm swept in a half-arc, to indicate all that he was insinuating with his request. To stay away from Anna and not tempt her to a life apart from the straight and narrow way.

  Felix was just warming up. He was enjoying himself. “He vants to know if you are in need of a helper. An apprentice.” He swept his arm in a big arc, just like Christian had. “For yer shop.”

  Bairn nodded. “I do.”

  “He does,” Felix told Christian in the dialect.

  “Then I expect you to abide by my request.” Christian clasped his hands together. “For the rest of the journey, you must do your best to avoid her, unless it is a matter of communication between the passengers and the ship’s officers.”

  “He vants me to vork for you. Any time.” Felix clasped his hands together. “I can be helper. For free.” He tried, but failed, to keep his gaze from drifting toward Bairn, not quite sure how the carpenter would receive this bold offer.

  Bairn was watching the two of them with a thoughtful look on his face. The only change, Felix noted, was that his eyes grew as cold and gray as the sea beneath the Charming Nancy.

  Slowly, Bairn dipped his chin to give a nod of approval.

  That was all Christian wanted, and he let out a breath of relief. “Excellent.” He nodded to Bairn, put his hat back on his head, and left the small shop.

  Felix gave Bairn a salute goodbye, just like he had seen the sailors give to the captain, and broke into a jog behind Christian to keep up with his long strides, grinning ear to ear. The awful dog trotted at his heels.

  What just happened? Bairn sat back on the barrel top, flummoxed. Felix had ignored the unsuspecting minister’s words and fed him lines of malarkey, his eyes wide and round and innocent. He’d have thought the boy to look l
ike a living angel if he didn’t know better. But he did. What that sly scamp didn’t realize was that Bairn could make out Christian’s intent.

  He crossed his arms against his chest. How dare that Peculiar minister, with his spectacles perched primly on his nose, work-worn hands folded like he was praying, order him to stay away from Anna. As if his intentions were not honorable! After all the girls in all the seaports, the one girl for whom his intentions were nothing but honorable was the one he’d been warned away from. Intentions? Frankly, he had no intentions regarding Anna at all. She was nothing to him, a mere distraction during the tedious delays of waiting for the ship to be watered and wooded in Plymouth.

  Perhaps he did admire the girl. But admiring someone didn’t mean he had intentions toward her.

  And what would Anna have to say if she knew what Christian had to say? And if she knew what Felix had been up to? He grinned, thinking of the tongue-lashing he would receive if she knew. But she must never know. The last thing Bairn wanted was to have Felix kept away from him—he was partial to the laddie. Besides, Christian’s request was a ludicrous one to make on a tiny, confined ship. The lassie needed fresh air and sunshine. He would never stop her from coming above deck. Why should he?

  Keep away from Anna, he scoffed. As if I had any more than a passin’ flirtation for a Peculiar girl. Keep away from Anna? Not a problem.

  He walked to the galley to see if Cook had any hot water to spare. As he did, a crushing awareness came over him, a burden of guilt. Christian Müller was right. Bairn was tainted by the world, by wickedness and evil. By what he’d seen and certainly what he’d done. He didn’t deserve the attentions of someone like Anna. She was pure and wise and good.

  Had his life carried on the way it had begun, had there not been a dramatic upheaval that altered his universe completely and permanently, someone like Anna would have been his. But his life did take a dramatic turn, a before and an after, and he wasn’t the same person. He was forever changed.