The Breakfast Table - Chapter 79

Atlantic Ocean, 1869

Previously…

Rumors of a birth aboard the Union had everyone at the breakfast table wondering whether Sophie was the mother. Clara and Marie set out to learn what they could while Johann wrestled with what her confinement might mean. Night fell before the women returned, and Johann went to sleep without answers.

*

Johann opened his eyes to the murmur of two crewmen passing through the steerage compartment. A couple of lamps still burned low between the rows of bunks.

Clara and Marie hadn’t returned with any news after all.

He rolled over, listening to the thrum of the Union’s engines and the familiar creaking of the timbers as the ship rose and fell. His shoulder ached as he shifted, stiff after another night on the wooden bunk.

Propping himself up on one elbow, he looked along the rows of sleeping passengers he’d shared the voyage with.

Thomas coughed in the bunk overhead.

Johann rapped lightly against the underside of the bunk. “Thomas?”

“Go to the devil,” a familiar voice grunted from the bunk across from Thomas as McKenna pulled the pillow over his head and turned onto his side.

Thomas chuckled. “Blimey... the Scot’s back.”

Michael cracked one eye open. “Thought we’d lost him during the storm.”

Thomas swung down from his bunk. “Let’s be gone before he wakes properly.”

“Aye.” Michael tugged on his boot. “Can’t imagine the porridge’s any worse today.”

Thomas grinned. “Thought it was the best you’d ever had.”

“Yesterday,” Michael muttered. “Today’s another matter.”

Johann laughed as he reached for his tin.

The passageway smelled of damp wool, coal smoke, and the welcome scent of cooking porridge. Passengers carrying their tins made their way toward the line, their conversations quieter than they had been only a day before.

Johann smiled as they joined the end of the line. “I’d never have believed I’d look forward to another bowl of ship’s porridge.”

Michael grinned. “Careful. Another week and you’ll be asking for the recipe.”

“Let’s hope we never learn the recipe,” Thomas said, scowling.

Michael shuffled forward with the line. “I was certain we’d seen the last of McKenna.”

“Too stubborn,” Thomas said, shaking his head.

Michael snorted. “Pity.”

“I can’t say I missed him,” Johann said, shrugging.

The father ahead of them in line straightened his son’s collar. “Stand up straight, lad. Tomorrow you’ll see more ships than you can count.”

“I’ll count them anyway,” the boy declared.

The father smiled. “You can certainly try.”

Thomas glanced across the nearly empty tables. “Looks as though we may have our pick.”

Johann shook his head. “I don’t see Marie’s blue bonnet.”

Michael steadied his tin as the cook filled it. “Aye. I was looking for it myself.”

Johann nodded. “I hope they have some news.”

Michael stepped away from the serving cauldron. “Come on. We’ll sit where the ladies can find us.”

Thomas nodded. “No sense making them hunt for us.”

Michael led the way as they crossed to the empty table closest to the companionway.

Johann set down his tin. “I wonder what Clara found out about the mother.”

“If there’s an answer aboard, Clara will find it,” Thomas said as he slid onto the bench.

An older man carrying his tin paused behind Thomas. “May I?”

“Certainly,” Thomas said, shifting along the bench to make room.

“Where are you fellows bound?”

“Illinois. Railroad work,” Michael said, turning a spoon in his porridge. “Michael Doyle.”

“Thomas Carter. New York. I’ll be looking for work on the docks.”

“Minnesota,” Johann said. “Johann Bauer. My uncle has a homestead there.”

“Minnesota?” The man whistled softly. “You’ve a fair journey ahead of you. May God keep your bones warm.”

Johann looked down at his porridge. He’s right. New York was only the beginning.

“And yourself?” Thomas asked.

“Wisconsin,” the man said. “My brother settled there three years ago. Name’s Samuel Briggs.”

Johann looked up as Clara and Marie stepped off the companionway. Their hurried pace caught his attention. “They’re here,” he said.

Michael pushed back from the table. Thomas rose halfway in his seat. Even the older man paused over his breakfast.

Clara stopped short at the end of the table, arms crossed. Marie came to a stop beside her.

Johann set his tin aside. “What happened?”

“Honestly! We spent half of yesterday simply trying to find the right compartment. Do you have any idea how many women’s compartments there are aboard this ship?”

Thomas held up a hand. “Slow down, Clara, please… the point?”

“No, you slow down!” Clara said. “What we discovered was that no one seemed to know for sure where the mother was.”

Marie looked at Clara. “Please—”

“Marie, I know what I’m about to say. Please don’t interrupt me.” She took a deep breath, her face flushing. “As I said, every woman sent us somewhere else—”

“Perhaps just tell them—”

“I am telling them!”

Marie sighed. “It’s Sophie.”

“Of course it’s Sophie. But by the time we finally found the right compartment...”

Johann’s shoulders eased. “Did you see her?”

“Not exactly. We finally found the place, but they stopped us at the hanging blankets.”

“How frustrating…” Johann said quietly.

“I asked whether the mother’s name was Sophie,” Clara said as she sat. “The woman said it was, but that she was not to be disturbed.”

She tugged on Marie’s sleeve. “Do sit down, Marie. You are hovering. I told the attendant we only wished to know how Sophie was.”

Marie lowered herself onto the bench beside Clara, smoothing her skirt.

“Oh!” Clara said, as though she’d just remembered. “She won’t be allowed off the ship when we reach New York. She’s to remain in her bunk until the doctor says she may leave.”

“We thought as much,” Thomas said, glancing at Johann.

Michael chuckled. “Now that we’ve all survived Clara’s report…”

Clara stared at him. “And what do you mean by that?”

“Only that we’re grateful for your persistence,” Michael said quickly. “It simply took us a while to get to the answer.”

Clara gave Michael a doubtful look before her attention shifted to the older man. “And who might you be?”

The older man cleared his throat. “Samuel Briggs.”

“Mr. Briggs joined us for breakfast,” Thomas said. “He’s headed to Wisconsin.”

“Clara Vogel. This is Marie. We’re bound for Boston.”

“Boston,” Samuel repeated with a nod. “Boston’s not too far. I hope it proves a good home for you.”

“Thank you,” Clara said. “We hope so.”

Thomas glanced toward the serving cauldron. “Have either of you had breakfast?”

Clara shook her head. “We don’t usually eat this early.”

Marie smiled. “Though perhaps we’ll make an exception today.”

Thomas started to rise. “I’d be happy to fetch you each a bowl.”

Clara shook her head. “Thank you, but this won’t take a moment.”

Samuel glanced around the table. “I’d heard there’d been a birth two nights ago. Sounds like you know the mother.”

“She’s a friend of Johann’s,” Michael said, his eyes settling on Johann.

“Oh?” Samuel said.

A faint flush crept into Marie’s cheeks as she looked away.

Johann turned the tin over in his hands, aware that every eye at the table had settled on him. His thumb moved slowly across the scratched characters on the bottom, the ones he had been told spelled Georg’s name. He closed his eyes.

For the first time since boarding the Union, arriving in New York no longer felt like something to celebrate.

I knew I’d be parting from Michael and Thomas. I hadn’t expected to lose Sophie.

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