When Fergus and his family went into the steerage class hostel, they were examined in a cursory manner by a doctor, then taken into a large room lined with bunk beds to await boarding the following morning.
Pa sat on the lower bunk and looked round, solemn and silent now.
Ma sat next to him and gave him a nudge. ‘Are you all right?’
He shrugged. ‘We’ve done well in England, when you think how we were both brought up. I feel ungrateful to be abandoning this country now. Am I being foolish?’
‘No. Just grateful for what we’ve had here. But it’s a British colony we’re going to and you’re not abandoning your family, are you? We may only have had one child, but we have three grandchildren now.’
‘We’re getting older, though, and I don’t want to be a burden to Fergus.’
She put one arm round his shoulders. ‘Ah, we’re not too old to make a new life for ourselves in Australia. Time enough to talk of being a burden when we can’t earn our daily bread.’
‘I know that here.’ He touched his head, then put his hand on his chest and left it lying there. ‘But here, in my heart, I can’t help feeling sad at leaving England.’
‘We’ll be all right. You’ll see.’
Cara watched them sit there quietly, holding hands, hardly aware of the rest of the world. Yet again, she was touched by their obvious love for one another. Yet again, she envied them.
She didn’t want to be caught staring, so looked to one side. Fergus was busy with the boys, which left her and Niamh on their own. When she looked down, the baby smiled at her, she really did, seeming to recognise the woman who was mothering her. After the months of aching loneliness, it was such a comfort, holding that small, wriggling body close.
Cara told herself she should just be content with what she’d got and not wish for more. But her eyes lingered on Fergus and she knew exactly what she wanted.
Every bunk in the hostel was filled by the end of the day and Cara felt relieved when the gas lamps were turned off, with two left burning on a low flame, giving enough light to find your way to the water closet during the night.
Once again, Cara’s troubled thoughts disturbed her sleep and Fergus seemed restless, too. When the baby woke early in the morning, she decided to feed her, glad the others were still asleep.
But Fergus got up when he heard her stirring. ‘Did you sleep well?’
‘Not very.’
‘You’re not regretting what we’ve done?’
‘No, no. Not that. But it’s such a big change going to Australia, isn’t it? You can’t help thinking … worrying whether things will go well for us all.’
‘Yes. A very big change. I didn’t sleep well, either. I never thought to be following my brother anywhere, let alone to the other side of the world.’
‘You always sound as if you don’t get on with Bram.’
‘I do. Sort of. We are brothers, after all. But when we were living in the same village, I was always trying to keep up with him, and never quite succeeding because he was older.’
‘My sister was like that with me. I miss her.’ No use dwelling on that. She pulled the shawl over herself and unfastened her bodice.
‘I’ll hold up my blanket across the space between the bunks, shall I? It’ll give you more privacy without having to cover Niamh’s face.’
‘Thank you. It can be … embarrassing.’ In her other life, she would never have dreamed she could even do this, let alone do it publicly.
‘You’ve been good to my baby,’ he said abruptly. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever told you how grateful I am for that.’
She brushed a fingertip across the soft little cheek. ‘I love her like my own.’
His smile was sad and he didn’t say that he loved his little daughter as well. She wished he had said it. He’d held Niamh now at least, seen to her welfare, but he hadn’t offered the child any sign of love, not even a quick kiss. Well, he didn’t love Cara, either. It was his love for his sons and his first wife’s parents which shone out brightly.
Oh, she’d be wishing for the moon next, Cara told herself crossly. Her marriage to Fergus was a business arrangement more than anything else, and she should just be grateful that it had made her respectable again. Well, as long as no one found out about her past. She shivered at the thought.
But she was only twenty-two, young enough to want a man to care about her, to find her attractive, even if he didn’t love her with all his heart.
And Fergus was such a good-looking man.
For breakfast they were given bread, butter and jam, as much as they wanted, accompanied by big cups of tea, refilled as needed.
One ragged family gulped their food down quickly, as if afraid of having it taken away from them, bits of bread falling out of their mouths. People averted their eyes, ate their own food with a consciousness of good table manners, chiding children who didn’t follow suit.
When everyone had finished eating, they were sent to collect their possessions and marshalled into three groups: single men, single women and families.
The families were ushered out of the hostel first, moving forward in a ragged line, even the children staying quiet.
As they got closer to the ship, people exchanged murmurs of surprise at its size, because they’d only seen it in the distance before. It towered over them, its hull black, the structures on the deck a buff colour. Some men were loading crates on to it, using the cross piece on the mast as a crane. In fact, the whole dock nearby was a hive of activity.
The ship was higher than the two-storey houses most of them had lived in, and was surely a hundred paces long. It had a funnel in the middle with one mast in front of it and two behind. Mr Kieran had told them even steamships used sails for part of the voyage, to save the expense of coal, and also because of the difficulty of carrying enough fuel. Even so, the ships had to stop to re-coal a few times during the long voyages to the Orient and Australia.
‘I’d love to see the engine room,’ Fergus said, as if thinking aloud.
Cara wondered why he thought he wouldn’t be able to. ‘You can ask to see it once we’re under way.’
‘Do you really think they’d let me?’
‘They can only say no, and if you ask politely and explain that you’ve worked in the engineering section of the Great Western, they may be more inclined to let you look round it.’
He smiled wryly. ‘You’re less nervous than we are about approaching people like officers and employers, aren’t you?’
She had to think about that, then shrugged. ‘Perhaps. I’ve not had to deal with them in the same way you have. As a young lady, I always found most people polite. Until my problem forced me to live in the slums, that is.’ She shivered at the memory and he laid a gentle hand on her shoulder as if understanding and offering comfort.
She wanted to clutch his hand and keep hold of it but they reached the gangway just then. He let go as they began to walk up it to the ship’s deck.
They were led across the deck to the top of a flight of stairs let into the deck behind the funnel. It was so steep it was like a cross between a ladder and a staircase. A sailor corrected them, saying it was called a companionway, not stairs, and indicated they should go down.
The two boys stood nearby, gaping round and fidgeting, still awed by all the new sights, but clearly itching to explore the deck.
‘Come on, lads,’ a sailor said. ‘You’ll have plenty of time to explore after we set sail. We need to keep the decks clear for the moment.’
When it came her turn to go below, Mrs Grady hesitated, whispering, ‘It’s so steep,’ then crossed herself and started down. She managed perfectly well, but heaved a loud sigh of relief when she reached the bottom.
Sean and Mal started bickering about who would go down first, shoving one another around. They bumped into Cara and Fergus had to grab her to prevent her tumbling down the companionway.
He righted her and for a moment they stood very close together. ‘Are you all right?’ His breath was warm on her cheek.
‘Yes. Thank you, though. I’d have fallen if you hadn’t caught me.’
He gave her one of his rare smiles, then it faded and he turned to his sons, grabbing them both by their collars and giving them a quick shake to get their attention. ‘No more messing about near the companionway, you two. You could have hurt Cara. Word of a Deagan, if I ever catch you fooling around and putting other people on this ship in danger, I’ll tan your backsides there and then. Now, get yourselves down those stairs slowly and carefully.’
They exchanged surprised glances at the vehemence of their father’s tone, then went down quietly. He nodded as they reached the space below safely and called down, ‘Good. That’s the way to do it.’
They nodded, both responding to his seriousness. For all his threats, Cara had never seen him hit either lad, but he only had to speak sternly for them to do as they were told.
‘I’ll go first.’ He turned round when partway down the stairs, holding out his arms. ‘Give Niamh to me.’
‘I can manage.’
‘I can manage more easily.’ He grinned unexpectedly. ‘I’m not wearing skirts, am I?’
The boys giggled at this and she too smiled as she passed him the baby. Niamh gurgled and kicked, and for a moment his face softened, but as soon as Cara was down, he handed the baby back.
When all were gathered below, a man in uniform said loudly, ‘I’m Mr Groves, the deputy chief steward, and this is Mrs Plummer, the matron in charge of steerage passengers. She will be allocating you to cabins.’
The stern-looking woman beside him called out, ‘Please wait quietly until I tell you which cabin to occupy. Oh, and by the way, we call this the passageway, not the corridor, and walls are called bulkheads on a ship.’
Cara watched the two boys mouth the words, as if eager to fit into this new world.
When it came the turn of their group, Mrs Plummer counted them with a raised forefinger, then put a tick against them on her list. ‘We have a six-berth cabin that’ll be just right for your family.’ She pointed to the right, where a younger woman in similar dark clothes was waiting to show each group to their cabin.
Ma stopped dead at the entrance. ‘Is this for all of us? It’s so small!’
The woman sighed. ‘This is steerage class, so no one has much room. At least your family isn’t sharing a cabin with strangers. Please choose your bunks, leave your hand luggage here, then come to the day cabin, where we’ll explain how things are organised on the ship.’ She pointed to an open door further along on the other side of the corridor. ‘That’s it, just along the passageway.’
Cara felt just as unhappy with their living space as Ma. There was one small porthole at the far end, and three sets of two-tier bunks. One pair was across the end and the others were against each side wall. No, she must remember to call them bulkheads now, not walls.
That didn’t leave much space in the middle, barely enough for them all to stand in a row. Each bunk had neatly folded blankets and sheets on it, with one pillow. At least the place and the bedding were immaculately clean, but the members of the family would have almost no privacy.
She sniffed. ‘It smells of new wood. I love that smell.’
‘So do I,’ Fergus said. ‘I heard one of the crew say it was a brand-new ship.’
To the left of the entrance to the cabin was a narrow space for washing, with a ewer and bowl on a wooden stand that was firmly attached to the wall. Between it and the bunks was a canvas curtain, which looked as if it could be pulled forward to hook on to the end of the bunks to provide a little privacy. On the lowest shelf of the wash stand stood a chamber pot.
Cara swallowed hard. She couldn’t sit on a chamber pot in front of her new family, just … couldn’t do it.
Relief shuddered through her as the stewardess added, with a knowing smile, ‘The heads are down at that end of the passageway. That’s what we call the water closets: heads. They empty into the sea, so please use them whenever you can, not the pot, and if you do have to use the pot, one of you must empty it as soon as possible afterwards. There are three heads, each quite private.’
She left to deal with the next group.
Fergus studied the cabin. ‘Ma and Pa, how about you take the end bunks? Or would you rather have a side pair?’
Pa smiled at him and put his arm round his wife’s shoulders. ‘We’ll be fine with these end ones, eh Alana?’
‘Yes.’
Ma didn’t look happy, Cara thought. Well, it was especially hard on women to give up nearly all their privacy.
Fergus continued to arrange things. ‘You boys can take these two bunks on the right. Cara and I will take the other pair.’
Cara hadn’t moved from the doorway. ‘What about the baby?’
Just as she spoke, the stewardess came past with another group and overheard her. She stopped to say, ‘I forgot to tell you, Mrs Deagan: we’ll give you a baby hammock for your daughter. I’ll show you how to set it up later.’
By the time the woman had moved on, Sean and Mal were arguing about who should take the top bunk, but Sean grew impatient and shoved his little brother on to the bottom bunk, then climbed on the top one with a triumphant grin. ‘I’m sleeping here.’
‘It’s not fair!’ Mal yelled. ‘Dad, it’s not fair. Tell him.’
Fergus hauled his older son down. ‘You’ll wait to be told what to do, Sean. I think the fairest way would be to have one week each on top, taking it in turns. But because you were unkind to your little brother, you can take the bottom bunk first. I’ve told you before, I won’t have you being unkind to one another.’
Sean scowled at his father and plumped down on the lower bunk, arms folded, bottom lip jutting out.
Mal clambered up on top, smirking.
Fergus turned to Cara. ‘Which bunk do you want?’
‘I’d prefer the lower one.’
‘Are you sure? I don’t mind which one I take.’
‘I’m very sure. Maybe we can hang a sheet somewhere to give me privacy to feed Niamh.’
‘We’ll ask the stewardess.’ He looked at Ma and Pa. ‘Who’s going on top?’
‘I think we’ll follow the boys’ example and take turns. Unless one of us doesn’t like it up there.’ Ma looked at the upper bunk doubtfully.
Pa followed her gaze. ‘I’ll go on top first, if you like, Alana.’
‘Right then. And I think we’d better go to the dining area now, like the stewardess said.’
Other people were waiting in the bigger space where they would eat their meals. It was in the centre of this deck, with no portholes. It was lit by round skylights in the ceiling and had lamps fixed to the walls. Some of the older people were sitting down, but the children were standing.
‘Why don’t you sit down?’ Fergus said to Cara. ‘You’ve got Niamh to carry.’ He found a place for them, then sat beside her, nodding politely to the next family. When they nodded back, he introduced himself and his companions.
He was a born leader, Cara realised, watching him get these strangers introducing themselves. Soon they were all chatting to one another.
Mrs Plummer and her assistant joined them, explaining how meals were organised and what happened if the weather was rough.
‘Whenever you go on deck, you must keep to the rear part. Steerage passengers may not go into the area to the front of the funnel, only cabin passengers.’ Mrs Plummer paused to look first at the adults, then at the children. ‘Is that clear? Good. Now, I’m sure you’d like a cup of tea, so we’ll have the urn brought in. Perhaps a couple of you women would take charge of it?’
She looked directly at Mrs Grady as she spoke and Cara was amused at the way Ma nodded acceptance of the task, then looked scared at her own rashness.
‘Don’t go up on deck until I send word,’ the stewardess went on. ‘We’re still loading stores and checking everything, it being a newly commissioned ship. When we’re making ready to set sail, the sailors are always very busy.’
A man said, ‘Won’t we be allowed to take a last look at England?’
‘Of course you will. That’ll be in two or three hours, though, perhaps longer. They’ve been working all night to get the ship ready, but there’s still a lot to do.’
They certainly organised the passengers, Cara thought. But she supposed they’d have to on such a big ship. Then Niamh began to fret and she realised the baby needed feeding. As she stood up, Fergus looked at her sharply, as if asking whether something was wrong.
‘I need to feed her,’ she whispered.
‘I’ll come with you, in case you need anything fetching.’
When they got back to the cabin, he watched her settle down, then sat on the lower bunk opposite.
She looked down at the rosy, contented infant, forgetting her usual embarrassment when someone saw the child on her breast.
After his first glance, Fergus carefully looked the other way, his cheeks slightly flushed. ‘I’ll fetch you a cup of tea and ask Ma to keep you some food.’ He left the cabin.
She could hear voices from the dining cabin, but here it was peaceful. This was one of the rare occasions she’d been alone since her poor little daughter was stillborn, and she welcomed an opportunity to get her thoughts in order. They’d be about two months on the way, first on this ship as far as Suez. Some passengers would be going to India or China, and others, like her, to Australia.
Two months seemed a long time to be travelling, but at least it would postpone any intimacies with Fergus.
What would happen to that side of things when they reached Australia? She was still woefully ignorant about how the act of love-making happened between married people. Her mother had refused to tell her any details. Cara had thought she was being torn apart when the man attacked her.
But she had gathered from overhearing Ma and Pa chat to one another that married people did it quite often, so it couldn’t be such agony, surely. Anyway, Fergus wouldn’t hurt her … or not much, anyway. He was always kind to the others, and he would be to her. She really liked that about him.
Well, the intimate side of things would have to wait, so she’d not waste time worrying about it yet. She’d have enough on her plate learning to look after a growing baby on a ship.
She frowned down at the child. Her breast was empty and Niamh didn’t seem satisfied. She’d have to ask Ma about that. Maybe she was doing something wrong.
Rémi Newland walked up the gangway of the huge P&O steamship, SS Peshawur, followed by a porter wheeling his cabin luggage.
He was met at the top by a respectful young officer with a list of names, who told a burly sailor to stow the luggage in Mr Newland’s cabin.
Rémi paid the porter and followed the crew member to his cabin, but stopped short in the doorway with a grimace. There was a cabin trunk already there. He hadn’t realised he’d be sharing with someone else.
The young man said brightly, ‘I’m the steward who looks after these cabins. Name’s Kirkly. The other gentleman hasn’t arrived yet, so you can choose which bunk you use.’
‘I thought the cabins were supplied with proper beds,’ Rémi said. He’d read the information put out by the P&O Company.
‘That’s in the first-class cabins, sir. This is a second-class cabin. There wouldn’t be room in here for two beds.’
Rémi forced his anger back. He should have expected his uncle to act in a petty manner yet again, and book the worst of the cabin-class accommodation. Damnation, he should have been specific about having his own cabin.
He managed to speak lightly. ‘Dear me. What a dreadful mistake! Are there any vacant cabins, Kirkly? Would there be any chance of my changing to a first-class cabin?’
‘I’m afraid not, sir. They’re all occupied. But I’ll check with the chief steward, sir. If you’d just wait here for me …’
‘Thank you.’ Rémi slipped a coin into the man’s hand.
After a few minutes, the man returned, smiling. ‘Mr Weldon says you can share one of the first-class cabins, which is much bigger. It’ll cost you another ten pounds, sir. Once you get to Suez, you’ll be changing ships, so you’ll have to make any changes in accommodation for the final stages of your voyage to Western Australia when you get there.’
‘Who is currently occupying the first-class cabin?’
The man shrugged. ‘We don’t have a complete list of names, I’m afraid. With everything changing so suddenly and the SS Peshawur coming into operation sooner than expected, we’ve just had to fill the cabins as best we can. If you’ll take my advice, you’ll make up your mind quickly, or the place will be filled.’
‘I’ll risk it. Thank you for your help.’ Thank goodness he’d taken his first quarter’s money as cash, Rémi thought.
He followed the young steward further forward and was shown into a much larger cabin, with beds, not bunks. ‘If I have to share, this is better, at least.’
Another man, older, appeared in the doorway.
‘This is Mr Weldon, sir, the chief steward.’
Rémi held out his hand and after a moment’s surprise, the man shook it. ‘Thank you for helping me. I’d have preferred my own cabin, but the clerk who booked my passage must have misunderstood my instructions. Shall I give you the extra payment now?’
‘If you don’t mind, sir. We can get that sorted out while we wait for the rest of your luggage, then the steward in charge of these cabins can unpack for you.’
‘And the gentleman sharing with me? Is there any word of him yet?’
‘I’m afraid not, sir. As you’ll have noticed, things have had to be rearranged in a hurry. I’ll send someone to unpack for you, shall I, sir?’
‘I’d appreciate some help, yes. You stewards must have more idea than I do about how best to fit things in.’
Another man appeared a few minutes later. ‘I’m Jobson, sir. Shall we make a start? It’s best to fasten your cabin trunk to the wall first and work around it, since it’s the biggest item. You need to be able to use it as a wardrobe and chest of drawers, but to close it when not in use. If you have the key, we’ll unlock it and set things up.’
Rémi took out his keys and unlocked the trunk. He’d taken a friend’s advice and bought the largest size of cabin trunk, which was made to stand on one of its smaller ends and open out into two halves, one a miniature wardrobe holding his jackets, shirts and trousers on wooden hangers, the other side having five drawers of different depths, the top one for his cologne, soap and hairbrushes.
At the moment the drawers were fastened into place by a long metal rod, with a padlock on the end. He unlocked and removed that, then stood back.
Jobson moved about quickly, unpacking Rémi’s carpet bag into the drawers under the bed and explaining about the ship’s sanitary facilities as he worked. ‘I’m sure you’ll want to set up your writing slope yourself, sir, and unpack your own books.’
He walked across the cabin, all of five paces compared to the smaller cabin’s three paces. ‘This wooden panel is hinged and swings up to form a desk.’ He raised the flap and locked it into position with two supports. ‘Best not to leave anything on the top in rough weather.’
When that was done, the steward outlined the dining and social arrangements, mentioning the day room as a place where the passengers congregated.
Rémi tipped him half a guinea, because his friend had advised generosity in tipping, as it could make a big difference to service. After all, you were on a steamship for a long time.
The steward left with a smile and Rémi closed the door. He sat down on the bed, staring round, getting used to the space which would be his home for the next few weeks. But even this larger cabin felt cramped and he could imagine how it’d feel to be locked down here during stormy weather. He prayed he’d get on well with his travelling companion.
He hoped he’d never see or hear from his father’s brother again. His uncle’s lawyers would be handling the payments in conjunction with his own lawyer and it had been arranged that all communication with the family would be through his cousin James. Even so, he’d be careful what he said to his cousin. If he wrote.
Rémi grinned. He was now well and truly a remittance man.
He stood up, impatient with himself for dwelling on his damned family. He’d go up on deck and watch the ship leave. It’d be his last ever sight of England, after all.
Was he sad about that? He didn’t know. Heaven alone knew what his new life would be like, but it couldn’t be much worse than his old one.
He had to find something to do with himself once he’d found somewhere to live. But what?
He was going out to a British colony, one with a great deal of land still unsettled, he gathered, but he wasn’t some strapping brute who could clear land for himself and become a farmer or grazier.
He glanced at himself in the mirror and grimaced. Tall and spindly, more brain than brawn. There must be opportunities for an educated man to make an interesting and productive life for himself in Perth, surely?
On that thought he went up on deck, keeping out of the way of sailors as he studied the bustling harbour. So many ships. Where were they all going?
‘Exciting, isn’t it?’
He turned to see a middle-aged man standing nearby. ‘Very exciting.’ He offered his hand. ‘I’m Rémi Newland.’
‘Hector Tardew, off to Sydney.’
‘I’m going to Western Australia.’
‘Ah, yes. Usually you’d disembark at Albany and take a coastal steamer to the capital, but they’ve had to juggle things about, due to the sinking of the SS Rangoon. Got family in Perth, have you?’
‘No. I’m just chancing my luck.’ He wasn’t sure yet whether to tell anyone he was a remittance man. It was rather embarrassing. On the other hand, he didn’t wish to build his new life on lies.
‘You should have gone to Sydney, Newland. More opportunities for an enterprising chap there.’
‘Well, I can always move across the country later, can’t I, if I’m not happy in the west?’ Actually, he realised, his uncle would have no way of knowing where he was.
‘I suppose so. You’d have to sail round the coast of Australia. There isn’t a road across the continent yet and won’t be for a long time, if ever. It’s two thousand miles away and mainly desert, after all, so who would want to travel by land?’
They chatted for a while, joined by two more gentlemen travellers, who then introduced them to their wives, and the pretty daughter of one. She clearly didn’t consider Rémi worth flirting with. He was too old for her, no doubt.
That was a relief, because she seemed like a mere child to him and he had no desire to pay her any attention. Well, he’d lost his taste for flirting with young virgins years ago. What was the point when you couldn’t afford to marry?
Besides, he found older women more interesting both in and out of bed. They had far more to talk about.
There were shouts and cries as another passenger hurried on to the ship. He looked pale and winced as a sailor spoke loudly to him.
Been drinking too much, Rémi guessed. Then he wondered whether this was his travelling companion. Oh hell, he prayed not. The last thing he wanted to do was share his cabin with a boozer.
While he was standing chatting, the steerage passengers were brought on to the ship. Some immediately rushed to the smaller length of rail allotted to them at the rear of the ship, probably wanting to bid farewell to their homeland.
But one of the stewards shooed them towards the hatch, insisting they go below.
‘Look at them!’ one lady said scornfully. ‘No better than animals.’
Rémi didn’t say anything, but his expression must have shown his disgust with this statement, because she looked at him sharply and turned her back on him with a swish of her skirts.
He thought the steerage passengers were remarkably well behaved, given that they were being sent straight below. He was particularly struck by a young fellow shepherding a woman carrying a baby and making sure no one bumped into her. Such an intelligent, lively face, the man had. Rémi would like to chat to him and find out what had made him choose to emigrate.
In London, he’d made friends with several men from what his uncle would have called ‘the lower classes’, among them mechanics and clerks of various kinds, whom he’d found just as intelligent – or stupid! – as people from the wealthier classes. That attitude would have disgusted his uncle if he’d known about it, but Rémi had kept his personal leisure activities deliberately vague, talking of readings, concerts and free lectures when asked. And he had indeed engaged in all those activities.
The ordinary men he’d met had been eager to learn just about anything, and some had far outstripped Rémi in their practical application of the knowledge they’d won with so much difficulty. The man he’d been watching just now had reminded him of them, something about the alert way he was assessing his new world.
The young woman beside him, presumably his wife, had an elegant face and hair of a lovely colour, neither auburn nor brown, but somewhere in between. Her eyes were bright with interest in what was going on around her. That sort of expression suggested a good brain, whatever the gender of its owner.
Rémi smiled. Another heresy to the Newlands. His uncle in particular didn’t believe females to be capable of rational thought. Not even about their domestic domain. What an arrogant despot he was! How wonderful to think that Rémi would never have to see him again.
Later, once the ship’s crew finished their final preparations, the steerage passengers were allowed up on deck again and crowded together at the rail nearest to the land. Some were openly weeping, others grim-faced, while most of the children looked excited.
Tugs began to pull the steamship away from its mooring and it headed slowly out towards open water.
There were tears on the faces of some cabin-class passengers, too, but Rémi didn’t feel sad. ‘So it begins,’ he murmured.
He didn’t realise he’d spoken aloud until the elderly lady now standing next to him sighed and said sadly, ‘At my age, I shall never see England again.’
‘Are you going out to join your family, ma’am?’
‘Yes. My son and his wife. I’ve never even met my grandchildren. They have four now, two boys and two girls.’
‘You’re lucky to have family waiting for you.’
‘Don’t you have anyone there?’
‘No.’
‘Why are you going, then?’
He decided suddenly to tell people the truth. ‘It was suggested to me rather strongly by my uncle, who paid me to leave England.’ He let out a choke of laughter. ‘I didn’t mean to tell anyone that, then I suddenly decided to start my new life by telling the truth, something I often avoided in my dealings with my uncle, for the sake of household peace.’
She looked at him thoughtfully, then smiled as if she approved of what she saw. ‘Life brings comfort in the strangest ways. I love my family dearly, which is why I’m going all the way to Australia to join them. I’m sorry you’re alone in the world, but maybe you’ll marry and make your own family out there.’
‘I’m a bit old for that sort of thing.’
She laughed gently. ‘You seem quite young to me. And I’m sure you’ll make friends in the new country. You seem personable enough, with time to be polite to an old lady like me, even.’
He grinned. ‘I find you easy to talk to, ma’am.’
‘Offering me compliments, too. I like that.’
‘I offered you the simple truth.’ He found himself chatting to her for quite a while and she seemed pleased with his company too. That comforted him, reminded him that he was quite good at making friends.
The man who’d come on board at the last minute didn’t join them, so after a while Rémi went down to the cabin and found he was right in his guess. For better or worse, that man was to share his cabin.
By the time Rémi got to his cabin, his fellow occupant was sprawled on the other bed, fully dressed, snoring loudly. A strong smell of brandy proved to come from an overturned hip flask. Rémi went across to pick it up and screw the lid on the small amount still left in it. He studied the labels on the luggage. ‘Jeffrey Barrett of Marlborough, Wiltshire.’
‘Well, Mr Barrett, even with the extra space, I shan’t enjoy travelling with a drunken sot,’ he said aloud.
He went to dine with the other cabin passengers, but was tired by now, so didn’t linger after the meal.
When he came back, the cabin was dark, but the lamps had been lit and turned down low. He turned up the lamp attached to the wall near his bed and got undressed. He might be physically tired, but he was far too tense to sleep, so decided to read for a while.
At that moment, loneliness hit him hard, and he sucked in a painful breath. But he didn’t intend to give in to his low spirits. He’d been lonely before and had a sure cure. He pulled out his volume of Samuel Smiles’ book Self-Help and opened the book at random, reading the first paragraph on the page:
‘The battle of life is, in most cases, fought uphill; and to win it without a struggle were perhaps to win it without honour. If there were no difficulties there would be no success; if there were nothing to struggle for, there would be nothing to be achieved.’
It seemed as if fate was both comforting him, at the same time as telling him to stiffen his spine. Since his parents’ death, he’d come to appreciate Mr Smiles’ wise words and now he decided to let the man help point the way for him.
Many years of his life had been wasted on family duty after he’d been tricked into accepting legal responsibility for his father’s debts. He didn’t intend to waste another moment, but would try to make a new life for himself, however uphill a struggle that meant.
He wasn’t sure making money would be his main goal, because that didn’t seem to have made his uncle happy, though it’d be good to have another source of income, just in case the remittance money stopped.
He wasn’t sure about marrying, either, had come to the conclusion years ago that he was meant to remain a bachelor.
Surely there must be something he could do in the colony that would be worthwhile, something he’d enjoy?