BREMERHAVEN
“What are you doing with that duffel in your room, Erik?”
Erik raised his eyes from the eggs and boiled potatoes. I wanted to have this discussion at supper. Isaac, almost three times his size, was glowering at him from across the breakfast table, but Erik was unflinching. “I’m packing for my trip to America.”
Isaac and Helmon exchanged startled glances in dumbfounded silence. Then Isaac slammed his meaty fist into the kitchen table, almost cracking the wood. “You will do no such thing. I am the eldest. I run the farm. With father and Reuben gone, we need you here.”
Erik dropped his gaze to his plate, scraping it with his fork and then lifted his eyes, staring back up into Helmon’s angry glare. “No, brother, you don’t need me. I’m just your frau. I save you the cooking and cleaning and the sewing,” Erik looked from one to the other, “and endure the incessant arguing. There’s no future for me here. I’m going to America to find Reuben and help him establish our family legacy over there.”
Helmon opened his mouth as if to speak, then snapped it shut. Veins bulged in Isaac’s neck. He looked apoplectic. “You think this is such a bad life we have here? Are you treated so poorly?” he shouted.
Erik pushed his plate away. “Poorly? It is your life that you have here, Isaac, not mine. And the fact that you do not realize how meanly you treat me, proves how little you care about my future.”
There was a long silence. The flush in Isaac’s face lost some of its intensity, and he looked deflated. “When do you leave?”
“Tomorrow, Isaac.”
Without a word, Isaac rose suddenly from the table, the force of his legs pushing over the chair behind him with a crash. He strode to the door, crunched his felt hat over his head and stormed out. Helmon still sat at the table without a word, looking bewildered.
Erik rose and began washing the dishes.
Except for the brief, stiff, unemotional goodbye tinged with bitter anger that evening after supper, neither of his brothers spoke a word to him until just before an early bedtime.
Erik had turned down the covers, checking his duffel one last time, especially the secret false end he had carefully sewn into the heavy, canvas bag to hide his money. Glancing at his pocket watch, he shook his head. Just three hours to sleep. The door creaked open. It was Helmon, furtively looking over each shoulder for Isaac. He nervously held up the dagger their father had given him on his sixteenth birthday, then slid its thin, six-inch blade with curved tip into a well stitched and oiled burgundy sheath. Carefully placing the weapon into Erik’s hands, he curled his younger brother’s fingers around the leather housing the blade. “Be safe little brother,” he whispered. “Godspeed. Father would be proud.”
June 12, 1855
The clip clop of the pair of thick-shouldered Belgians pulling the wagon echoed up the wide dirt road into the early morning darkness. The damp air muted the sounds, giving their hoof steps a hollow distant tone. The sound was surreal as it reverberated between the tree trunks, stone walls and occasional dense hedgerow.
For the tenth time, Erik cast a quick glance over his shoulder at the dark bed of the wagon, making a mental list. Have I forgotten anything? Violin case. Duffel. His mind ran over the contents of the duffel.
He jumped at the sound of Rudolph’s voice, though they had been sitting together on the wagon seat for almost three hours.
“I’m sorry, what did you say?”
Rudolph’s pudgy, medium frame shook with quiet laughter. “We have gone to school together since we were three. I have never seen you as absent-minded as this morning, Erik, but no doubt very excited. I would be. I asked if the ship was departing Bremen or Bremerhaven?”
Erik blinked. “You mean there are two harbors? I had no idea.”
He could feel Rudolph staring at him through the darkness and sensed rather than saw the movement of his hands as he shifted the lines to the traces. “Really? Weren’t you in history class with me? Bremen is almost fifty kilometers up from the mouth of the Weser. In fact, there was no harbor at the mouth of the river until Bremen bought the territories there from the Kingdom of Hanover in 1827, less than thirty years ago. Now most of the shipping comes out of Bremerhaven.”
“When I took Reuben to the SS Edinburgh last January—it seems so long ago—I’m sure we were at the harbor at the mouth of the river. The ship must be leaving from the same place.”
“Let us hope so or you’ll be late,” Rudolph laughed. “Do you know where you’re going Erik? I hear America is a giant country. Herr Burger told us in geography class there are places in the western part that don’t have a single person, except for wild Indians, for hundreds of kilometers.”
Erik tried to imagine all the lands from Villmar to Bremen without a human, but couldn’t. “When I get to New York I’m going to my Uncle Hermann’s. That’s what Reuben did. I don’t have Reuben’s maps but I’m sure Uncle Hermann can tell me the directions. Though, I must admit that when I get to this place called Cherry Creek, I really have no idea of where to go from there. I’m hoping somebody will know Reuben or know where he went and can help me get there. I have plenty of money—the entirety of the one quarter father left to each of us. I have Reuben’s too.”
“Not much of a plan, Erik,” said Rudolph dryly. “I hope that money is very well hidden. I would not flash it around if I were you.”
“It is where no one will find it.”
Rudolph sighed, “I must admit I am very jealous. I would love to see America. Everybody’s talking about the grand, mysterious aura, the immenseness of the country.”
The fading morning glow of the moon lit his friend’s face as he turned toward Erik. “And the people, Erik— the people are supposed to be very tough, many of them rough and not given to manners at all.” He chuckled, “Though I suppose if you live in a place where there’s no one else for a hundred kilometers, manners are not all that important.”
Erik swallowed and rubbed his fingers together. “I shall manage. I’m sure I will be able to find Reuben or perhaps he will hear that I’m in Cherry Creek and will seek me out. It can’t be that far.”
“I suggest that when you get to your uncle Hermann’s that you have him draw or get you a map. I don’t know, of course, but I think you’re underestimating the sheer size of the country. All of Prussia is supposed to be just a fraction of the size of what they call the Territories, and the Americans recently added almost a quarter more to their land area with a place called Texas. I think they get in more fights than the British.”
Erik laughed. “Yes, it seems to me that as proud of their military as the British are, they would rather not battle the Americans again. Turn down here, Rudolph— I’m almost sure this was the street that brought us to the harbor. These buildings seem familiar and so are these large, square street cobbles.”
They fell silent for several minutes; then Erik saw the dim forms of masts rising in the half-light above buildings. “Yes, yes, I can see the masts! This is the correct street!”
The horses picked their way down the cobbled street toward the edge of the harbor, their shod hooves clicking with a metallic ring on the hard surfaces. They passed several docks, most still quiet at this early hour. The black hull of a steamship materialized in the partial light, the big white letters sifting and moving with the billows of fog. SS Edinburgh.
As it had been that Sunday morning six months before when Erik dropped off Reuben, the wharf was alive with activity. Passengers crowded toward the gangplanks. Shouts and curses flew through the sea air, mingling with the creak of cargo nets lifting cargo high off the dock and then lowering it into the hold. Officers and seamen scurrying on the decks high above the wagon barked orders. The last time I was here there were tears streaming down my face as I said goodbye to Reuben. Now it is I embarking on the adventure.
“Come on, Erik, I will help you with your things. I can’t believe you are bringing the violin. From what I’ve heard about America, you would do far better with a weapon.”
The memory of Helmon at his bedroom door the previous night tugged at him. For a moment, he was tempted to show Rudolph the dagger. Instead, he forced a light laugh. “Even hard hearts soften to the sound of music.”
“I hope so, Erik. I hope so,” Rudolph muttered without conviction as he reached into the wagon for the duffle.
The two long-time friends embraced. “Please write me, Erik. I’m anxious to hear about America. You draw well—perhaps you could draw some pictures.” Rudolph looked wistfully at the Edinburgh. “Perhaps someday I’ll come visit you.”
Erik hugged his friend, hefting the duffle onto his shoulder. “I hope so, Rudolph, I hope so.”
“What about your brothers? Do you have their blessing?”
Erik shook his head slowly. “Anything but. They are self-centered and more interested in competing with one another than in my affairs or events of the world. They know nothing but the farm, nor do I sometimes think that they want to.” He paused. “Though perhaps Helmon may at least understand.”
“The sun is rising! Erik, it is time for you to board.
Goodbye, my friend.”
Erik shook Rudolph’s hand and gave him another hug. “It is not goodbye, Rudolph. This is simply until we meet again. I shall write and, when you have a chance, send a letter with news of the village to me. Father told me a posting simply needs a name, then Cherry Creek, then Kansas Territories and then finally,”—he smiled— ”United States of America.”
Rudolph clambered back in the wagon, waved once and snapped the lines. The Belgians moving out smartly.
Erik looked after the wagon until it disappeared. Bent over from the weight of the duffel, he struggled toward the gangplank, suddenly wishing he’d eaten breakfast. At the bottom, he stopped, lowering the violin case and the duffel to the dock as the mate checked his name on the manifest and tore his ticket in half. Far up the gang-plank, he saw a mill of emigrants moving to and fro on the deck. His hollow gut surged with adrenaline. Will I be predator or prey? His hand closed on the dagger in his coat pocket. Clenching his teeth, he swallowed, stooped and picked up his luggage.