Thanks to all of you who have left comments - I sincerely appreciate it. I am rushed at the moment but will try to respond to them. Thank you for reading and this section is mainly dialogue but I needed to convey information. Hope it worked.
Nine
As Sigrid was still sleeping, Adam, needing to get out, walked to the galley for a breakfast of ham, two eggs, biscuits and hot coffee. The deck hands had eaten already and were out working, calling to one another and there was such an air of camaraderie that it reminded Adam of working alongside Joe and Hoss on the Ponderosa as they teased each other and pulled pranks – all in good humor. Adam felt a pull on his heart; suddenly he missed them with a desperation, knowing he would more than likely never see them again or hold any nieces and nephews born in his absence. Life would go on without him – life would go on as if he were dead.
"Have some more coffee?" the cook asked, interrupting Adam's reverie.
"Yes, thank you." Adan held out his cup and the cook and poured and then sat on the bench opposite Adam, placing the coffee pot on the rough wooden tabletop.
"First time we've ever carried passengers. Glad to see another American. Quite a few of the hands are Americans who want to get to Australia but don't have the money for passage, so they sign on and work their way over. Then, on the return trip, we have a few Australians who want to get to America. And then there are those like me and the doctor; we just cross the ocean, back and forth, living out our days on the water."
Adam thanked the cook for the coffee and sipped it black. It was surprisingly good and he complimented the man. "Best coffee I've ever had – and I've drunk an ocean of coffee in my years."
"I have a secret; when I grind the beans, I add just a pinch of chicory; learned it from a Creole whore I met in New Orleans. Stayed a week with her. I did the cooking but she made the coffee," and the cook broke out in laughter. Adam smiled.
"If you don't mind, what is the draw of Australia for the likes of you? I mean you seem an educated man."
"A copper mine. The price of copper is going sky-high and if we – my waiting partner and I - can import it to the States, it'll be a lucrative prospect. Copper's needed for construction, mainly for the making of pipes." Adam didn't mention the silver mine. More than likely, Caleb Morgan filed the claim but he didn't know for certain. There may be no silver mine.
"So, you're going to the outback to settle," the cook stated. Adam nodded, drinking his coffee, so the cook continued. "It's a hard life out there, or so the men say. Hear you brought a wife along and that she's doing poorly."
Adam caught the wording – 'a wife' – not 'your wife'. "Yes. I brought my wife. We're hoping she'll get used to the water soon."
"You'll need a woman, someone to provide a few comforts. It's a rough land – rough. Not so much dealing with the Noongas…"
"The what?"
"The Noongas. Abos. You know, the Boomers. They use that boomerang thing as a weapon – crush your skull with it and all you'll hear beforehand is an odd swish through the air. The Aussies have all sorts of names for the native people – treat them just like we treat the Indians, like pieces of trash to be swept up and disposed with. We take what we like and the hell with them. I think I prefer the sea over land any day."
For the first time, Adam considered the people he might be displacing. His father had killed many Indians who tried to run him off the Ponderosa, who tried to run him off what he felt was his land. And the Paiutes and Bannocks felt the land was for everyone. Adam had felt guilt many times over when he saw the Indians on the government reservations and how they were treated – called the "Red Brethren" but not treated as such. Many a Sunday sermon was dedicated to convincing settlers and homesteaders that God provided the land to those who were superior and could make the land serve him. After all, as the Bible said, man had dominion over all. Even as a boy, that philosophy never quite sat well with Adam. And he always carried in the back of his brain, the image of Hoss' mother, dying, with an arrow in her breast.
"Well, let me take your plate if you're finished. My boy is up to his elbows in soapy water and he may as well scrub the egg off this as well." The cook stood up, stepped over the bench along the side of the table and took Adam's plate, leaving him to finish his coffee and consider just exactly what he was doing in going to Australia and the effect it might have on those who lived there from time out of mind.
The ship was full of energy, the laughter, the cursing, the insults, and Adam strolled about the deck making certain to stay out of the way of swinging rope and swabbing deck hands. The wind was brisk and smelled sweet and fresh. He wondered how far out they were as nothing but water stretched out about them. Adam didn't like the thought of going back to the cabin just yet, to the claustrophobic atmosphere and Sigrid ill; it made him feel inept. Not that Adam blamed Sigrid – he actually blamed himself - and Adam did understand about sudden illness. But he wasn't one to enjoy tending the ill or wounded, although God knew he had done it many a time.
He walked back to the cabin, going down the short length of narrow stairs and paused outside the cabin door; he heard male voices – more than one - and Sigrid's involved in conversation. Adam opened the door and saw Sigrid propped up in bed by the pillows from both berths, her robe lying over her backwards with her arms through the sleeves, sipping tea and a tray holding a teapot and a plate of toast across her lap. And although she was pale and there was pain in her eyes, she was talking and smiling with Dr. Beaumont and a man Adam didn't know. When Adam stepped inside both men turned; they had pulled up the chairs in order to comfortably talk with Sigrid.
"Well," the unknown man said, quickly rising and putting out a hand, "you must be Mr. Cartwright. I'm Jerome Hightower, the only other passenger aboard. So pleased to make your acquaintance."
Adam shook his hand. Jerome Hightower was at least five years younger than he was with wavy dark-blond hair and flashing white teeth. He was close-shaven and dressed in a crisp suit with an air of the big city about him.
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Hightower, but I find it odd that I meet you for the first time in my cabin." Adam released Jerome's hand. The man seemed a bit flustered.
"Well, I was strolling about after breakfast, a post-prandial diversion…."
Doctor Beaumont stood and stepped toward them. "It is my doing, Mr. Cartwright. I passed Mr. Hightower…"
"Jerome. As I asked before, please call me Jerome, Doctor."
"Very well, if you like. Mr. Cartwright, I was bringing your wife some ginger tea and dry toast and…"
"And he herded me along thinking that I would enjoy meeting the two of you. So sorry to see your Missus is ill but hopefully, when next I see her, the two of you, that is, she'll be better." He turned to smile at Sigrid. "Let's hope for good health soon."
"Yes," Adam said, a stiff smile on his face. Looking at Jerome's guileless face made Adam want to punch him. "Let's hope she will feel better."
"Well, I must be off!" Jerome turned back to Sigrid. "I promise I will bring you the book I mentioned. It's quite entertaining and I guarantee you will enjoy it."
"Thank you so much, Jerome. I'll be expecting it."
"It will be my pleasure. And thank you again for the promise of socks – a bachelor such as myself can always use another pair of socks. But knowing they were knitted with such lovely hands, well, I'll be loath to put them on my feet!" He turned back to Adam. "Goodbye, Mr. Cartwright. Perhaps I'll see you at noon lunch. I find I have nothing in common with the sailors so it would be good to have someone to talk to. Goodbye again, Mrs. Cartwright."
Jerome Hightower left humming a popular tune, and Dr. Beaumont stood silent, looking at Adam, waiting.
Sigrid spoke to break the tension. "Mr. Hightower is very nice, Adam. It's a shame you didn't come earlier to spend more time with us."
"Yes, isn't it," Adam said, crossing his arms. "Thank you, Dr. Beaumont for tending to my wife. It was kind of you to secure entertainment for her."
"It was my pleasure. Now, Mrs. Cartwright, try to eat more toast but don't force yourself and nibble on some of the crystallized ginger through the afternoon. I'll be back later." He turned to look at Adam. "Goodbye, Mr. Cartwright." And with a small nod, the doctor left and Sigrid slid back down in the bed after placing the teacup on the tray.
"Adam, would you take this?" Sigrid asked. He stepped over and removed the tray.
"Whatever you ask," he said, curtly. He hoped she noticed his annoyance.
Sigrid pulled off the robe; it was warm and the breeze from the open windows had died down a bit.
"You must be feeling better," Adam said putting the breakfast tray on the table by Sigrid's knitting, the unfinished sock still on the needles.
"Not really."
"Oh? You seemed well enough to entertain – or was I misled along with the doctor and your new friend, Jerome."
Sigrid was puzzled. "What are you talking about?"
"Just that I come in and see you half-naked, entertaining both the doctor and some stranger as if you're a queen holding court."
"I wasn't 'half-naked' and I wasn't entertaining anyone. Dr. Beaumont merely brought me my breakfast and thought Jerome might care to meet us seeing that we're the only other passengers. That's all it was."
"Dr. Beaumont," Adam said, his mouth grim. "Now he's concerned not just with your goddamn 'mal de mer' but with your social life. And what's this about you knitting "Jerome' a pair of socks? I thought those socks were for me."
"You didn't seem too thrilled with the socks earlier, but if you want a pair, I can always knit you another. I'll have more than enough time."
"So, I take second to a total stranger – someone you just met. Put you and him together for fifteen minutes and you're knitting him socks. What next? Don't tell me you'll be thanking him with more than a smile."
"Adam, what's wrong with you? You're exaggerating and behaving like an…I don't know what. You're implying that I have some romantic interest in a man I just met and …I mean, look at me! I know how bad I look – I'm no maiden trapped in a tower for a knight to rescue, although I am trapped - I'm trapped inside this cabin and even if I didn't feel so awful, I'm still supposed to stay inside and not…" Sigrid started to cry. Her head was throbbing worse and her stomach threatened to rebel against the tea and the bits of toast she had eaten. And Adam was accusing her of…she wasn't sure what.
"Sigrid…don't cry. Now, don't…you'll make yourself…" But before Adam could finish, Sigrid threw the sheet aside and looked about desperately for the chamber pot; the doctor had moved it to make space for the chairs. She saw it in the corner and dropped to her knees in front of it just in time to keep from spewing on the floor. Adam kneeled beside her and held back her hair while Sigrid retched until she was weak and wanted nothing more than to lie on the cool floor. But Adam scooped her up and laid her back in the berth. Sigrid pressed her head between her hands trying to find some comfort while tears rolled down her cheeks.
Adam wet another flannel and brought it over to the bed, wiping Sigrid's face with it.
"Thank you," she murmured as she tried to stay as still as possible. Maybe then she would feel a bit better and not as if the floor was tilting under her although in actuality, she realized, it was.
"See if you can sleep some," Adam said, but Sigrid's eyes opened and she reached out for his hand; he gently took it.
"Adam, I feel as if the whole world has turned upside down." Tears shimmered in her eyes.
"Sigrid…" Adam sat on the edge of her berth, his neck bent at an awkward angle; nothing in the cabin was comfortable. He held her small hand in both of his. "Oh, Sigrid, I think we may have both made a mistake. I can't shake the feeling. And I have to agree with you – the world has turned upside down and I shouldn't admit it but…"
Sigrid studied her husband's face. "Are you afraid, Adam?"
He looked into her dark eyes. What would she think of him if he said he was afraid – terrified about the path down which he was leading her. If it were just himself, that would be different, but to take someone else into the unknown – that was a heavy responsibility.
"Yes. Not so much for me but for you." He dropped her hand and pulled one of the chairs closer to sit more comfortably. "Haven't you ever wondered why I'm not married?"
"Yes, but I just thought no woman in her right mind would have you." Sigrid managed a smile and Adam returned it, chuckling at her comment.
"You're not half wrong. I've done a lot of thinking about it lately and, well, I find it an intimidating burden to be responsible for others. I mean in the Army, I was responsible for men, but that was different; they joined knowing the risks. Other than that, all the decisions I've made, I was the only one taking the risk but now I've put you at risk too."
"Adam, it was my choice."
"But I don't think you knew the risks – not really, because I hadn't myself. It doesn't really matter much, though, does it, with us out at sea. This whole thing makes me feel like a failure in more than one way. I should have done more research, not be in such a damn hurry to book passage and taken more time…" Adam stopped himself; he didn't want to suggest he thought Sigrid was a mistake, but perhaps she was. "I thought I'd be able to protect you from all the bad things that could happen but suddenly, it seems like everything's out of my control."
"No one can control everything, Adam. Actually, I don't know that we can control anything." Sigrid adjusted her position on the bed and changed her gaze to the underside of the higher berth. "And I've thought about us, about marrying you and being your wife – there's not much else for me to do but think about things – and I don't want to say that I accepted your proposal out of desperation, but I so wanted more out of life, some excitement and adventure and…a husband. I was tried of being a spinster but now, I wonder why I ever regretted my life in my father's house. Excitement is greatly over-glorified."
"Yes, I suppose so…" His voice drifted off. He didn't know what to say to her to make things better.
"Adam, you can be honest with me. Do you wish you'd brought Mary Dawson instead?"
"You know about Mary?"
"Oh, Adam, everyone knew about you and Mary. My father told me it was she you loved and that something must have happened to make you marry me instead. I do wonder about the gossip after we left. Do you think Mary Dawson was hurt by what you did – by what we did?"
"Oh, Sigrid." Adam sighed. "I suppose Mary was hurt; I considered it, but…all right, I'll be blunt and honest – I see no reason to lie about any of this. I didn't love Mary – I cared for her a great deal. And although I am fond of her children, I wasn't ready to take on a wife and three children as well as a sea voyage to a country where I didn't know what the hell I'd find. My father told me that I'd fall in love with her once I married her, once I slept with her; he said love more or less springs forth from the act. But, if that's true, well, then I'd love anyone I'd marry if I crawled on top of her enough times."
Sigrid laughed but it wasn't with pleasure. "Oh, that's basically what Mrs. Hellström, our housekeeper told me. She said that love springs from…intimacy. That marrying for love is a ridiculous, foolish notion born from novels and songs. Life is never like that – never. And an undying passion dies. A woman should ask nothing more from a husband than that he bed her regularly and give her children to love. That will be fulfilling, she told me – children. That is a woman's true happiness incarnate. And if she grows to love her husband and he, her, then God has smiled on them both."
"Sigrid…" Adam leaned forward but Sigrid closed her eyes. Adam noticed that tears escaped the far corners of her eyes and she wiped them away.
"I hate to ask you, Adam, but would you empty the chamber pot. I know you've been doing it and I would do it but the smell…"
"Of course." He stood up. "See if you can get some sleep."
Adam sat for a few seconds more before he pushed back the chair and stood, looking down at Sigrid. "I'll empty this," he said picking up the chamber pot, "and then I'm going to wash and shave. Let me know if you need anything." Sigrid didn't respond. And later, while Adam stood in front of the mirror shaving, he kept glancing at the reflection of Sigrid lying in her berth. Now he knew how Sigrid felt about their marriage – and she knew about Mary Dawson. Mary still bothered him; he should have spoken to her before marrying Sigrid but he had been a coward, wanted to avoid what most certainly have been an emotional scene.
Adam looked at his wife again and wondered about Jerome Hightower and if Dr. Beaumont had an ulterior motive for introducing Sigrid to the man. And what book was Jerome bringing to her? Adam had unpacked the ones he had brought along, deciding he needed some way to pass the time; if Sigrid wanted to read, she could read one of them. Adam decided he didn't care for Jerome Hightower – or Dr. Beaumont and as he stared at his own reflection, he decided that at the moment, he didn't much care for himself either.
