The Newcomer Read online

  Not so long ago, Jacob would have answered for her, he would have given Sister Marcella a resounding yes—confident that hardship and suffering was behind them. They had come to a New World, where land was plentiful and they could worship as they pleased. Their son had been resurrected from the dead, like Lazarus from the tomb! Their family was reunited.

  But today, Dorothea’s life felt as perilous as crossing the ocean waters.

  She knew more than Jacob about this topic. She knew you couldn’t escape hardship and suffering. Even here there were hardships to suffer, even here in this land of freedom and plenty there was pain, there was loss.

  She pushed the thought away and came back to the world. Her gaze returned to Sister Marcella. Her face revealed nothing other than kindness.

  “Both reasons, I would say. My husband came a year ago to obtain land warrants for our church. Our church wants to own land and wants to worship God freely, in our own way.”

  “So when did you arrive?”

  Dorothea had lost track of time. Her head felt fuzzy, stuffed with wool. It seemed like months, though it was only a few weeks ago. “The eighth of October. On a ship called the Charming Nancy. The ship docked in Philadelphia.”

  “And where are your church people now? What happened to them?”

  “My husband insisted that we go ahead of them to the settlement.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “They are probably there, wondering what happened to us.”

  “Do you know where the settlement is located?”

  “Lancaster County. That’s all I know.” She looked at Jacob. All the knowledge of this New World was locked in his mind. That foolish, brilliant mind. But she couldn’t think of her husband in terms of right and wrong anymore, of good and evil.

  “Lancaster County is quite extensive. Can you remember any other specific details that your husband might have told you? Any landmarks? A river or creek, perhaps. They’re called kills here.”

  “Why kill?” What a fitting word.

  “It’s an old Dutch word that means body of water. Schuylkill, Northkill, Catskill mountains.”

  “Oh! Schuylkill. I think I remember Jacob saying something about the Schuylkill River.”

  “The Schuylkill River empties into the Delaware River. In Philadelphia.”

  “Oh . . . maybe that’s where I heard of it.” Dorothea shook her head. “I don’t remember. There’s been so much to absorb these last few weeks. I can barely keep up.” The baby stirred in his cradle and she reached down to pat his back.

  “All right then. Let’s try another way to remember. What kind of land would your husband obtain?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “There’s a variety of land in Lancaster County. Would he have chosen flat land? Hills? Deep forests?”

  “I don’t know. We farmed land in Ixheim. And we had sheep. It was quite hilly.”

  “There are very few sheep in the New World, only those brought over by English settlers. Do you think he would have chosen land that reminded him of your home in Germany?”

  “No,” she said softly, thinking of the graves on the hillside that held both of their parents, and also their son Johann. “No, I think he would have wanted to forget.”

  Lady Luck, Atlantic Ocean

  Felix hadn’t intended to create such a big problem. It’s just that so much about this barque ship was different from the Charming Nancy, and he was curious to explore every inch of it. He didn’t realize the anchor home was on the side of the bow. He was merely examining a chain, released it from its lock—only to discover he had undone the anchor cable. Down, down, down into the water sunk the anchor ball. The ship was at full sail, and the sailor at the helm shouted for help because the ship was suddenly not handling well. First came a slowing, then the ship leaned strangely larboard, and he saw his brother Bairn bolt down the deck to the helm. For a moment, Felix thought the ship might keel over.

  There were other shouts between sailors posted at different positions, shouts to take down the sails immediately. Then came another hard jerking motion—so hard that Felix lost his balance. It was at that point that he thought it might be wise to make himself scarce.

  Much later, Bairn found him in the cargo hold. There was a look on his face that Felix hadn’t seen before—he looked troubled. Calmly, he informed Felix that the anchor ball had dragged from the ship, caught on a rock, and had to be abandoned. He also told him that a ship without an anchor was in a perilous condition. And then he told him that the captain had fired him as cabin boy and ordered him to remain in the first mate’s quarters until they reached Boston Harbor. If, Bairn stressed, he could indeed bring the ship to a stop in the harbor.

  Bairn was looking at him in a way his parents had often done, with a mixture of exasperation and confusion and surprise. “Are you very angry?”

  “Nae. Not angry. Very disappointed. You’ve created a great problem for the ship. And y’ don’t seem to understand that yer actions have a ripplin’ effect.”

  “I’ll help. I’ll help solve the problem. When do you need it fixed? Tomorrow?”

  “We will not worry about that. Don’t worry about tomorrow, laddie. This day has brought us more than enough grief. We don’t need to borrow from the future.”

  But Felix had no doubt Bairn would know how to solve this problem. He could fix anything. He was a fine leader, his brother. Even Squivvers said so. The sailor told him that the best leaders were the ones who didn’t even realize they were leaders. “Good leaders don’t try to grasp it,” Squivvers had said. “They live a life worthy of being followed.”

  That described his brother.

  But Felix would have preferred Bairn to be angry with him. Once and for all, get it over with, the way his father would shout and rail, but then it would be over. To be quietly disappointed in him felt much, much worse. It reminded Felix of his mother.

  For the first time since the ship left Port Philadelphia, Felix felt a touch of homesickness. He missed his mother.

  Ephrata Community

  November 11, 1737

  Three nights in a row, Jacob had woken in the night, sweating, panting, sucking in great gasps of air like a drowning man and Dorothea thought surely the end of his earthly life was at hand. Her legs were shaking so hard she had difficulty standing upright. She knelt by his bedside and prayed for him, squeezing her eyes shut. She wouldn’t look, she couldn’t even bear to think of what was coming.

  But each time, he didn’t die. His breathing settled back to that raspy labored intake of air, and he slipped in and out of unconsciousness. He hadn’t spoken a word since the bloodletting, though his eyes fluttered open now and then. He lay in bed with an impassive expression, his eyes like empty windows when they did open. He ate when she pressed mashed food to his lips, he drank when offered a cup. But he did not speak.

  Out the window, she saw the tangerine tint of the sunrise. Another day had arrived and Jacob was still with her. Another day, hoping someone would come for her. Another day that she feared would end in disappointment.

  She drew in a deep breath, her chest shuddering. What if they weren’t coming? What if they couldn’t, or didn’t want to?

  The baby stirred and she rose, unsteadily, to her feet. Dorothea bent over the small bundle in the cradle and rocked it slightly with her foot, watching this little babe drift back to sleep. How she loved him!

  A thrill shivered through her senses when his chubby fingertips touched hers. She drew him into her arms and tipped her face upward. This child had thoroughly captured her heart. “My little boy”—she breathed a kiss in the soft folds of his neck—“you have become my son.” She loved this beautiful baby, foolishly and desperately.

  This child had twice saved her—he gave her a reason to want to live on the Charming Nancy. And he gave her a reason to continue enduring through Jacob’s mighty illness.

  Lady Luck, Atlantic Ocean

  November 12, 1737

  The Lady Luck would soon reach around the long cro
oked arm of Cape Cod to head into Boston Harbor. The wooden ship hugged the coastline, and when the rain stopped, Bairn could even see lights at points along the coast. Those lights helped him navigate the Lady Luck’s path, though he was long accustomed to using the stars to navigate. In particular, the North Star. Fixed in the sky, a sailor’s most valuable friend.

  He heard a creaking sound coming from the mast above him—not an unusual sound on any ship, but this one made his spine shiver.

  Another creak from above. Bairn froze.

  It wasn’t the normal creak of boards batted together, it was the sound of a crack starting.

  He looked up and saw a small figure peering down at him. “I told you, Bairn. There’s something wrong with the crow’s nest.”

  “Felix! Get out of the nest!”

  As Felix leaned over to climb out, it put added pressure onto the crack. The crow’s nest startled to topple like a treetop. “Jump out, Felix! I’ll get you!” Bairn’s heart was pounding as he tried to put himself directly under Felix. “Jump! Now!”

  Felix leaped out of the crow’s nest just as it gave way and crashed to the deck. He landed on top of Bairn, pinning him to the deck. Bairn got the wind knocked out of him, and when he came to, he opened his eyes to find the captain peering down at him.

  “What in the world happened?”

  The captain faded in and out, then there were two of him—a horrifying thought. Bairn blinked until there was just one of him. “The crow’s nest, sir. I think the base is rotted through.”

  Captain Berwick’s face turned purple with rage. He pointed at Felix. “That—that gremlin! He’s a curse on us!”

  Bairn rose to his feet and helped Felix to his, looking him over to make sure nothing was broken. But from the way he cannonballed on top of Bairn, there was no chance he could’ve been hurt. “Captain, I dinnae mean to make excuses for the laddie, but he had warned me that there was something afoot with the crow’s nest.”

  “Laddie? He’s naught but a devil in disguise! He shouldn’t have been up there in the first place. I’m wonderin’ what me cousin was thinkin’—to recommend so highly a first mate with a mischievous imp for a brother.”

  Bairn thought that was a bit harsh on both the boy and him. But the captain wasn’t finished.

  The captain’s glare shifted from one to the other. “This is why all ships should have brigs.” His glare settled on Felix. “Keep him locked in yer quarters.” Then he stomped down the deck toward the Great Cabin.

  “Well,” Felix said. “He sure gets huffy.” The watch bells rang and his face lit up. “I’m famished. I’m going to go see what Cook is up to.”

  Bairn was hungry too, but he had a duty to perform first. “I’m sorry, laddie, but you’ll be stayin’ put in my quarters for now.”

  November 13, 1737

  Felix paced the room. He wasn’t good at having nothing to do, and having nothing to do for hours on end was losing its luster. Frankly, ship life as a whole was losing its thrill.

  Ever since that unfortunate incident of dropping the anchor, the crew considered him to be a jinx. Bairn explained that they were prone to superstitions, these sailors, and it didn’t take much for fear to replace what little logic they had.

  If anyone caught sight of him on the decks, he was marched back to the cabin. Even Cook, who had been slightly more tolerant toward him than the crew, glared at him this afternoon, scornful, when Felix paid a call to him in the galley kitchen. “You’ll get nothing from me,” Cook said, wheeling back into the kitchen. The door swung behind him. And then Felix found himself face-to-face with the captain.

  An encounter with Captain Berwick was right up there with having your face slapped until your teeth rattled loose. The captain was peculiar even for a captain. All that sneezing! Bairn said it was because he pinched snuff. He remembered that Maria said snuff was one of the devil’s tools. That would explain a lot.

  He did not like Captain Berwick. He hadn’t liked Captain Stedman either, but at least he was a reasonable man. Captain Berwick had a mean streak. Felix had seen him hit Squivvers once, hard, just because his tea was delivered cold. Worse, he had it in for Felix from the first day. No question about it.

  The captain ordered Felix to be confined in the first mate’s cabin, after shouting an extremely unpleasant threat to his life if he dared to venture out again.

  The thing was . . . if Felix could just find a way down to the cargo hold, he was sure he could figure out something to substitute for the anchor. Gathering rocks from the bilge was one brilliant idea he had, tied up in a spare sail. But Bairn told him that would require so many rocks to drop anchor that the ship would lose its ballast. A solution to one problem would only cause another problem, Bairn said.

  And wasn’t that the truth about life? That was another thing Bairn said.

  Felix jumped on Bairn’s bunk and let his feet dangle over the edge. A nudge against his leg startled him. He sat up, looked down, and discovered the awful dog staring up at him, brown eyes full of hope and expectation, the leather satchel in its mouth. “Drop it.”

  The awful dog blinked, but did not drop the satchel.

  “You are the worst dog in the world.”

  The awful dog wagged its tail furiously, as if Felix had just given him a grand compliment.

  “Here’s what I don’t understand about dogs. No matter what I do or say to you, you still adore me.”

  The dog blinked.

  Bairn walked into the cabin and observed the two of them, staring at each other. “Are you trying to teach tricks to the dog?”

  “No. He’s too stupid. He doesn’t listen to a thing I say. I keep telling him to drop the satchel and he just looks at me.”

  “Try fetch.”

  “Fetch.”

  “You have to think like a dog. Throw something, first, to distract him from that satchel you stole.” Bairn threw a balled-up sock against the wall, and the dog dropped the satchel and bolted after the sock in full dog style, all joy and jubilation, overshooting the sock and charging headfirst into the wall, sending him into a sprawl. The awful dog shook his head in surprise and confusion.

  Felix burst out laughing. “See? I told you he was stupid.”

  “He dropped the stolen satchel, though, did he not?”

  Felix grabbed the leather satchel before the dog returned to his side. It wasn’t stolen. It was just accidentally borrowed for a rather long duration, to be returned next spring when he and Bairn sailed back to Port Philadelphia. He hoped Lieber Karl wasn’t missing it.

  18

  Jacob’s Cabin

  November 14, 1737

  Peter Mast was the first to hear the sound of an approaching horse galloping up the path. They had just sat down for evening supper in the cabin—the men sat around the makeshift table in the center, made up of immigrant chests, and the women and children sat wherever they could find a space. Peter peered out the small window to see who was coming. “It’s a stranger.”

  Christian sought out Anna across the room. “Come, Anna. To translate.” He looked at Maria. “The rest of you stay here.”

  Of course, they all followed Christian and Anna outside.

  The man stopped his horse in front of the fire pit. Christian walked up to greet him. “Friend, you are welcome here.”

  The man shielded his eyes and scanned the meadow. “You’re on my land.”

  As Christian listened to Anna’s translation, his eyes went round in alarm. “There must be a mistake.”

  “Well, I think you’re wrong. I like this spot, near that crick running so clear and clean. This land is free for the taking, and I’m taking it.”

  “It’s been claimed. Our leader has land warrants for this land.”

  The man looked down at them with a sneer. “You belong to those Mennonites?”

  “We are Amish. Similar to the Mennonites.” Christian pointed to a bucket of water brought up from the creek. “We have water for you. Your horse, as well. And food, if you hav
e hunger.”

  The man kept his eyes on Christian. “Sheriff’s been told not to let you people sit on a jury. You people acquit the defendant. No matter what the charge.”

  “Only God can judge a person’s heart.”

  As Anna translated back and forth, it was clear that the man held a personal grudge against the Mennonites. All of them. And any who resembled them.

  The man leaned slightly over. “I heard you people have a rule that if someone slaps you on one cheek, you must turn the other.”

  “Yes, that’s true,” Christian said.

  The man stooped from his horse and slapped Christian sharply on one cheek. With the back of his hand, he struck his other cheek. Christian stepped back, holding his stinging face in his hands.

  The newcomer walked up to the stranger on the horse, calm and confident. As the two men stared at one another, the air seemed to acquire a thickness, a heavy weight. “Yes, we do observe that. But we also have another rule. One will receive in like measure as he has been given.”

  Again, Anna translated, but this time her voice was quavering. You could see the stranger’s wheels turning, but by the time she said the last word, the newcomer grabbed the man by his coat collar, jerked him off his horse, set him firmly on the ground, then in another move, swung him onto the saddle so that he faced backward. It happened in the blink of an eye, so quickly and so unexpectedly that the man had no time to react. The newcomer stepped back to give the beast a hard swat on the rump. The animal lurched forward, then stretched forward into a trot, following the path with the stranger hanging on awkwardly to the saddle’s cantle to stay astride.

  The newcomer watched the horse and man until they were out of sight, then spun slowly to face those who had watched the interaction. “‘Behold, I send you forth as sheep in the midst of wolves: be ye therefore wise as serpents, and harmless as doves,’” he said. “That is the advice of our Lord in dealing with such men. Matthew 10:16.” He started toward the cabin. “Let’s return to our meal. The stranger won’t be back.”

  In his wake remained a considerable silence.