Amy's Story
A "Schooner Bay Home for Invalid and Indigent Seamen" tale
by Julie Feldman
A fair warning to modern readers. At the time this story takes place (and for many decades thereafter), those with physical, emotional, and intellectual impairments were referred to in terms we now find repugnant. Because of this history, I have used some terms in this story which are distasteful but true to the period. If this is something that would disturb you, I advise you not to read this story.
"Amy's Story" is a continuation of my AU. The characters of Daniel Gregg, Carolyn Muir and Martha Grant belong to 20th Century Fox and R.A. Dick. All the rest are mine.
Chapter 1:
It was early November of 1873 and already there was snow on the ground. Carolyn Muir, the Nurse-in-Charge of the Schooner Bay Home for Invalid and Indigent Seamen was lying in bed in her office/bedroom. It was not quite 6 o'clock and still quite dark yet, but she had heard Martha Grant, the Housekeeper and Cook of the home, make her way with steady steps to the kitchen to start the breakfast for the day to come. The logs in the fireplace were mere lumps of charcoal now and it would take a while for the house's steam heat to make its way to all the rooms. Not surprisingly, Carolyn didn't want to get out of her warm bed yet and closed her eyes, hoping for a few more minutes of sleep. There was as much to do as ever in the Home. After losing one of original seamen to a stroke last summer, the committee overseeing their enterprise had taken their time finding another man to join the other elderly or ill men. About a month ago now, they had welcomed an Able-Bodied Seaman and Cook by the name of Hannibal Booth. He was in his late sixties and was no longer able to manage his duties on board the ships he used to work on.
He was, like most of the other men, without family. Like many of them as well, he had left a life on land and gone to sea against his parent's wishes. Hannibal's father was a strict Calvinist preacher who had expected his oldest son to follow in his footsteps, but the youngster didn't meet his standards of piety and sobriety of character and there was strife between them from the earliest days. It was no wonder that Hannibal escaped to the sea at the first possible moment. Reverend Booth couldn't have pushed him to leave home any faster if he tried.
The rest of the original men remained; Nate Douglas, the eldest of the crew who had known Daniel Gregg in life and now also as a spirit; Joe Costa from a Portuguese fishing family; Peter Cannon and Charlie Fish, two life-long friends; Socrates "Sock" Demitriou, their resident amateur teacher and philosopher; Sam Tudor, scion of an aristocratic English family, and finally Red Secor, the youngest man in the crew who had been labeled (in the terms used in that day) a "moron" or "imbecile" as a child, but had yet made his way as a seaman for many years.
From somewhere near the window at the other end of the room, Carolyn heard someone clear their throat. It was the specter of Captain Daniel Gregg, who was always very careful when he came to speak with her while she was still in bed.
"Four bells, Mrs. Muir! Why are you lollygagging about in your bed? There's work to be done!" But there was amusement in his voice and laughter in his eyes when he materialized. Over the months since she had arrived, unwanted by him in his house, they'd developed an understanding which had grown into a friendship, and even a flirtation. She hadn't had a day off in six months, and she was tired and in need of some time to herself. It had been too busy getting the Home up and running and everyone settled, but now she was hoping to be allowed a few days at leisure. Captain Gregg knew and understood. Even a horse needs to come out of harness, after all. But until such time as the Directors of the Schooner Bay Home for Invalid and Indigent Seamen gave their agreement, he would do all he could to support and assist the lovely Mrs. Muir.
She sighed as she pulled herself into a sitting position with her blankets pulled up to her chin. She was about to respond to the spirit of Captain Gregg when she heard the heavier footsteps of Hannibal overhead. Since he joined them, he had made it his business to assist Martha with the cooking. Jealous as she could be of her "galley", she recognized that their newest resident was also an excellent cook. In fact, he had even shown her a thing or two and his quick breads and dumplings were nothing short of marvelous. She soon found herself enjoying his company as they worked together, exchanging recipes, and he made the burden of kneading bread, cleaning dishes and all the other things involved in keeping the galley ship-shape and productive, much lighter.
Neither Martha nor Hannibal would be coming near the door to her bedroom/office, but she was always careful about speaking to the Captain when anyone was near. It wouldn't do for someone to think that she was odd, talking to herself. At times like this, embarrassing as it could be, she would wave the spirit over to her bedside. In every instance, she realized, he would take this as an invitation to sit on the edge of the bed. He would be so close, that if he had been alive, she would have been able to feel his weight compress the mattress under her, feel the warmth of his body and even the smell of his skin. As a spirit, none of those things occurred, but Carolyn couldn't help wondering "what if" and blushing a bit in consequence.
"Madame, I do believe you are becoming quite lazy!" he said as he leaned even closer to her. If he were alive, she was sure that he would have kissed her, and if he didn't, she would take the initiative and kissed him. Instead, he laughed, shaking a finger at her. "Now, I will leave you to battling with your corset and skirts…unless you need my assistance?"
She scowled at him. It was the only thing she could do under the circumstances. Not that she wouldn't have minded his hands on her, had it been possible. Daniel Gregg was magnificently handsome and although he could be quite temperamental, there was always a gentleness between them in their dealings that made Carolyn regret never meeting him before his untimely passing.
When she appeared in the kitchen, glad of the steaming coffee offered to her along with a warm biscuit fresh from the oven, Martha gave her a once-over. This morning, Mrs. Muir was dressed in her brown traveling suit and her sturdy boots.
"Are you going to town this morning, Mrs. Muir?" the housekeeper asked.
"Yes. I'll go down with Peter and Charlie when the go to pick up the orders from the greengrocer's and the dry goods store. Reverend Whitman asked me to stop by this morning to discuss something," she replied.
"Another seaman?" the older woman asked. "We're full up! I don't know where we'd put another soul!"
"No, he said it was a personal issue that he needed some advice on," Carolyn replied.
"Well, that's a change, a man of the cloth asking advice from one of his flock," Martha chuckled. "Not a bad thing, though. More of them should do it, if you ask me."
Standing by the sink, Hannibal chuckled. "Aye, they should! They're mostly good folk, don't get me wrong. But too many of them have no idea how many of their flock live. My father, God rest his soul, had no trouble telling the butcher, the baker, and the candlestick maker how to do their jobs and save their souls at the same time. But Reverend Whitman seems to be a humble sort, and his wife as well."
"Yes," replied Carolyn. "I like them both a good deal. I just hope this doesn't have anything to do with a medical problem".