Land Ahead - Chapter 80

Atlantic Ocean, 1869

Previously:

In the morning, Clara and Marie brought news that Sophie was the mother who had given birth aboard the ship. They joined Johann, Michael, Thomas, and Samuel Briggs at the breakfast table. Under doctor’s orders, Sophie would remain confined to her berth even after the Union docked. When Michael referred to Sophie as Johann’s friend, all eyes settled on Johann.

*

Samuel’s gaze moved from Johann to the others gathered at the table. He pushed himself to his feet. “May the Lord watch over each of you.

Thomas stood, offering his hand. “Safe travels to Wisconsin, Mr. Briggs.”

“Perhaps we’ll cross paths again someday,” Michael said, rising.

Samuel smiled. “One never knows.” His gaze returned to Johann. “I wish you well, Mr. Bauer.”

Johann looked up. “And you, sir.”

Clara glanced toward the serving line. “There isn’t much of a line for porridge now.”

Marie laughed softly. “I’m hungry.”

“Come along, Marie. We have delayed long enough.”

Johann watched the women as they joined the short line, Marie reaching for Clara’s arm as the ship rolled.

“I wonder if we’ll be ashore by midday tomorrow,” Michael said, tapping his spoon against the rim of his tin.

Thomas shrugged. “No telling how long we’ll spend at Castle Garden before they turn us loose.”

Johann slipped his tin into his coat pocket and stepped away from the bench. “I think I’ll take a turn on deck.”

Thomas looked up. “Fair enough.”

Michael grinned. “Don’t wander too far.”

Johann made his way between the nearly empty tables before continuing onto the companionway. He drew aside as a family hurried down toward him.

“Land!” the oldest girl cried, bumping into her brother before looking up at Johann.

“Easy now,” her father said with an apologetic smile. “There’s time enough for everyone to see it.”

Johann nodded and continued toward the hatch.

Tomorrow we’ll step onto land. I’ll leave Sophie behind.

The sharp November air met him as he emerged onto the deck. A gull cried overhead, wheeling above the Union, while another soared behind it on outstretched wings. The sky had the same hard, washed-blue color it often wore at home this late in the year.

A brisk November wind swept across the deck, tugging at Johann’s coat and fluttering bonnets as passengers gathered along the rail. All around him, the deck bustled with activity. Crewmen checked the lines, calling to one another over the rush of the wind as they moved from bow to stern. Every shouted order carried them closer to New York.

Johann drifted toward a quieter stretch of rail near the purser’s office. The man stepped from his office, pulling the door closed behind him. A gust caught it before the latch could take hold, banging it against the frame. With an impatient glance, he caught the handle and shut it firmly before striding off toward the bow.

The sky looked like home, but the air felt different. It carried the scent of salt and a damp chill that seeped through his coat.

He rested his hands on the weathered wood of the rail. Mama had been right about men in uniform. If not for the fire in the constable’s kitchen, I’d never have escaped conscription.

Johann closed his eyes. How could I ever tell her how narrowly I escaped?

“Make fast that line!” His eyes flew open as the order echoed across the deck.

Would Papa have left Sophie behind?

Further along the rail, a father laughed softly as he lifted his young son onto his shoulders. “Can you see it now?”

The boy leaned forward, gripping his father’s cap. “I see land!”

His mother slipped her arm through her husband’s, smiling at the boy’s excitement.

Johann’s shoulders dropped. The last time I saw Sophie smile, it had seemed like any other day.

He turned back to the sea, watching the gray swells rise and fall beneath the ship. New York no longer felt like a destination.

My time with Sophie’s over before the harbor is even in sight.

He lowered his gaze and slowly shook his head. She’s alone with her newborn.

Johann looked up as Thomas stepped in beside him. “Thought we’d find you here.”

“Decided we’d best come fetch you before you sailed off without us,” Michael said.

The corner of Johann’s mouth lifted. “You’d have found me soon enough.”

Michael whistled softly. “So that’s America?”

“Seems so,” Johann said.

Thomas rested his forearms on the rail, tugging absently at the brim of his cap as he watched the hazy outline of land.

“After that storm... never thought I’d see it,” Michael said.

Thomas cleared his throat. “Asked one of the sailors about what happens to immigrants who have no one waiting.”

Johann faced him. “Und?”

“Said there are German people in the city that look after their own. Churches too. They help new arrivals find their feet.”

“What about unmarried mothers?”

“He couldn’t say. Only that there were German folk who’d know what to do.”

Johann nodded, turning his gaze toward the distant land.

A gull banked overhead, its white wings catching the morning light before disappearing toward the shoreline.

Michael removed his cap and turned it slowly in his hands.

“If you want,” Thomas said, “I’ll write your goodbye on paper.”

“Aye,” Michael said. “I think she’d be glad of it.”

Johann remained silent. His fingers found the end of his mustache, twisting it slowly.

Michael glanced toward the purser’s office. “I could fetch a sheet of paper.”

Johann exhaled. “No. She has enough ahead of her. Best to leave things as they are.”

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