1. Leaving Home

ONE

leaving home

Standing in the middle of our small cottage, I hold all of my earthly possessions inside the worn fabric of my filthy apron. Being the oldest of nine children, I'm in charge of the girls, while my brother, Charles, oversees the boys.

"Elsbeth, make sure the girls have all their belongings," Mama says as she swaddles the baby and places it in the bog. The smallest member of our family hasn't received a name yet. After losing three young babies, Mama refuses to name them until they make it through the unforgiving Scottish winter.

I look into the face of the baby boy she's holding close. I've nicknamed him Aaron, after my father. Black circles underline his wide eyes, and he's smaller than he should be at five months old. "Elsbeth, did ya hear me?"

"Aye. Sorry, Mum." I turn toward the three girls standing in front of me. Each holds a small bundle similar to mine. "You three have all your things?"

Each girl nods. My sisters are young. After I was born, there seemed to be a time when Mama couldn't have anything but boys. The three-, five-, and six-year-old girls stare at me, wide-eyed and terrified.

"Charles, how about the boys?" she asks my brother.

"We're good," he answers.

"Good. Let's go." Mama takes a deep breath before leading us away from the cottage for the last time.

The walk to the marina is long and cold as the winter winds have already begun to blow. The sun is sinking lower in the sky as we slowly make our way toward town. "Elsbeth, make sure the girls keep up," she demands.

I turn, finding the youngest of my sisters lagging. The fabric that's tied around her feet has begun to tear, and her toes are sticking out. The one pair of shoes the girls share is too big for her right now, meaning she's wearing a flour sack wrapped around her feet.

"Bonnie, keep up."

"I can't," she cries. "My feet aren't working."

I turn around and pick her up, pulling her to my side. She barely weighs anything. She sniffs deeply and sinks her face into my shoulder. "Thank you, Elsie."

In the distance, I see the tops of large sails, letting me know we're close. I sigh in relief. Truthfully, my feet hurt, too, and with the added weight of Bonnie, the walk has gotten harder.

We enter the outskirts of the village, catching the stares of strangers and people we've known all our lives. Each judges us as we pass. Some are whispering, telling stories of why we're leaving. Most don't know the truth…only what they believe to be the truth.

"Keep up," Mama warns from in front.

"Wow," Bonnie whispers over my shoulder. "Is that what we're riding on to America?"

"That's it. Stay quiet now," I warn as we approach. Men of all different shapes and sizes stop what they're doing and stare at the ten of us as we approach.

An older man with a round belly steps forward first. "What can I help you with, milady?" The crowd around him erupts into laughter at his formal greeting for my mother.

She pulls a paper from her bosom. "My children and I have paid for passage to America."

The man looks at the paper, turning it in several different directions. "Is that what this says?"

"It is," Mama answers. "My name is Eleanor Abernathy, and these are my children."

" Your children?" the man asks. "You look too young to have all these children. Where's your husband?" He turns toward the line behind her. We're standing as we always do, in order of height.

"Dead," she answers plainly .

"I'm sorry to hear that, ma'am." His words are monotone and flat.

Even though Charles is a year younger than me, he's been taller than me for years, which means he's at the head of the line, directly behind Mama. The man takes in my brother's features, giving me an uncomfortable feeling. When he moves closer to me, he stops. "Aren't you a lovely one?" Picking up a piece of my dark hair, he rubs it between his fingers. "How old are you, dearie?"

"Nineteen," I answer truthfully.

"Nineteen and no husband? How is someone so lovely not married with a few wee bairns?"

I stare at the giant in front of me, refusing to answer. He has no business knowing why I've been scorned and considered unfit for marriage, and no reason to know that I'm the cause of my family being forced to leave Scotland and my father's death. I stare at the beast of a man in front of me, daring him to ask again. He lets go of my hair and rubs a thick finger across my cheek before continuing down the line, assessing each of my siblings as he passes.

"Go ahead then." He shakes the ticket Mama gave him in the air, shooing us toward the awaiting vessel. A few of the men standing around whistle as we board. I move to the back of the line, feeling the need to protect the smallest members of my family.

The ship we board is large and made of wood with three sets of extra-large sails on top. "Follow me to your quarters," the large man says as he leads us through a narrow door behind the helm.

The smell of urine and other excrement hits me the moment the door opens. He opens an even smaller door on the side of the hallway and issues a warning to someone inside. "Get out!" he shouts, slamming the door open.

A young girl, not much older than me, runs past with the top part of her dress hanging open.

"Here you go milady." He motions toward the now empty space. "Your room."

Mama steps into the room. "Is this for all of us?" she asks.

"I'm afraid it's all we can spare."

"It will do then," she answers.

The rest of us enter the small room, finding a wooden platform, a brass pot that is one of the sources of the smell, and a small wooden chair. The room is barely big enough for one, let alone ten.

"We set sail in an hour," the man bellows before leaving us alone in the room.

Mama sighs and straightens her skirt. "Well, we'll just make this our home for the next few weeks." She looks me in the eyes. "We can do anything we set our minds to, as long as we're together."

I nod, setting Bonnie down for the first time. My back sighs in relief. "Where are we going to sleep?" I ask, looking around the small room .

"The girls will sleep on the bed, and the boys can sleep on the floor."

For the first time today, the baby cries. His voice is weaker than usual as he whimpers for food.

"Shut that baby up," a deep voice sounds through the hallway.

She pulls him from the bog and tries to feed him. He has a hard time latching onto her breast but thankfully manages.

I turn toward my sisters. "Why don't we get this out of here?" I nod toward the disgusting brass pot.

"Eww," Bonnie answers.

"Aye, I agree. But I'm not staying another minute with it in here. Get the door." I pick up the pot, being careful not to splash the excrement in the room. Bonnie is the only girl who follows as I head back through the narrow door onto the deck. We move quickly to the side and dump the disgusting contents into the water below.

"Oh, that stinks," Bonnie says, holding her nose. "What are they eating?"

I laugh, wondering the same thing. "I need to wash my hands. Can you take the pot back to the room?"

"Do I have to?" she asks, pursing her face into a disgusted pattern.

"Yes. I don't want to touch anything after that."

Bonnie sighs and pulls the pot closer to her. "It still smells," she groans, walking back toward the room.

I wait until she's safely inside before looking for somewhere to wash. Most of the men on board are busy preparing to set sail. In the back of the ship behind the helm is a bucket of what appears to be clean water. At least I can see the bottom of the bucket. That's as clean as I can expect at this moment. Bending down, I plunge my hands into the coldness, wiping the human excrement from my palms. I rub my hands together until the skin begins to feel raw. Satisfied that they're as clean as they'll get, I wipe the water onto the worn fabric of my apron.

Standing, I turn, finding myself facing a man wearing a blue velvet waistcoat. "Did you just wash your hands in my drinking water?" he asks, staring down at me. He's the kind of man we don't have around the village. Tall, handsome, and clean.

I fight the butterflies swarming in my stomach and square my shoulders before making eye contact with him. "Yes?" I point at the bucket. "It was just sitting there, and I needed a place to wash up."

"Who are you?" he asks.

"Elsbeth Abernathy."

"Why are you here, Elsbeth Abernathy ?"

"My…my family is on board. We're going to Charles Town."

He looks behind me. "Your family? Where are they?"

I point toward the narrow door. "They're in one of the staterooms. My mother has a copy of the ticket if you'd like to see it."

The man bows his head. "That won't be necessary, Miss. Abernathy. I have no reason to doubt that you have paid for your passage aboard my ship."

"Your ship?"

He smiles, lifting one side of his mouth higher than the other and bringing the butterflies to a full-fledged attack. "Aye." He holds out a large hand, taking mine and lifting it to his lips. "Captain Hawthorne Rex at your service."

"Captain?"

"Aye. Welcome aboard, Miss. Abernathy. I'm sure we will be seeing more of each other." He turns toward the bucket of now defiled water. "If you'll excuse me, it seems I need to acquire fresh water for our trip."

"I apologize. I didn't know who to ask."

"Don't give it another thought." He picks up the bucket, throwing the dirty water overboard. "We'll be departing soon. It might be better for you to be with your family."

I bow slightly and turn toward the door. "Miss. Abernathy?" he calls.

"Aye?"

"If you have any problems, please let me know immediately." He raises his voice as he continues. "I provide safe passage for women and children. Any man who questions that service or has other ideas in mind will answer to me."

"Thank you, Captain." I bow once more before entering the narrow door .

"Everything okay?" Mama asks as I enter the small room.

"Aye. It took a while to find somewhere to clean my hands." I leave out the part about meeting the captain.

"Good. Help me get the room set up."

I look around the room. "What is there to set up?"

"I'm not letting my children sleep on this filthy floor. Take off your apron, and use it as a broom."

"My apron?"

"Aye. It's all we have." She takes off hers, folding it neatly and wiping the platform free of things I don't want to know about while I do the same to the floor. My sisters copy our movements and work alongside Mama to clean the sleeping area. It doesn't take long before the room is less dirty than before.

A loud whistle sounds from outside. "What's that about?" Mama asks.

I shrug. "Maybe the ship is about to depart."

"Go find out," she demands.

I don't question her and head back to the deck of the ship. The sun is now completely set, and a full moon has taken its place. The light of the moon casts an eerie glow across the bow and the surrounding land.

The man I met earlier, Captain Rex, is behind the helm, while the large man who showed us to our room is barking orders at the crew. I watch in awe as the sails are turned and a large anchor is pulled out of the sea below. The men work in tandem, reminding me of the oxen Daddy used to plow our land .

The perfectly choreographed display is awe-inspiring to watch. Within minutes, the ship separates from the wooden dock and begins moving toward the sea. It doesn't take long before the shadows of the land begin to shrink.

"What are you doing out here, little lady?" The large man from earlier is suddenly in front of me.

"I was curious what the whistle was about."

He lifts the same strand of hair from earlier and brings it to his nose. "You like whistles, do ya?" He smiles, showing the one remaining tooth in his mouth. I refuse to answer but keep my eyes on his. "I can show you a whis…" The man is pulled away from our conversation and shoved against a wall behind the helm.

"What are you doing, Smith?" Captain Rex asks. His arm is shoved across the large man's neck as he presses it into his throat.

"Nothing, sir. Just checking on the young lady." His words are distressed as he fights to speak. "She seemed scared."

"You were trying to protect her?" the captain continues.

"Of course, sir. I wouldn't want any member of the crew to try to take advantage of her."

The scene in front of me is terrifying, but I refuse to retreat into the room with my family. "Is he telling the truth, Miss Abernathy?" Captain Rex asks.

The large man pushed against the wall begs me with his eyes. I sigh before answering. "Yes. Mr. Smith was checking on my safety."

Smith's eyes close as he realizes the lie I told for him. Captain Rex releases his hold, allowing the man to breathe again. "Don't concern yourself with her safety again. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir," Smith answers, moving quickly to the front of the ship.

The captain turns toward me. "Go inside, now."

I stare at the large man, unsure how to respond. Instead of arguing, I return to the room holding my family. Once inside, Charles shoves the only piece of furniture, a small chair, against the door as a makeshift door lock. Truthfully, it's useless against anything larger than a fly, but I keep that to myself. He positions himself next to the chair with his back against the door, blocking it with his weight.

Since Daddy died, Charles has taken on the responsibility for the family. He's only seventeen but feels like it's his job to take care of all of us. Instead of climbing on top of the too small platform alongside my sisters and mother, I slide beside him, helping him block the entrance.

"Are you okay?" I whisper.

"Do you want the truth?" He leans his shoulder into mine. I don't answer. Instead, I wrap my arm through his and pull him close.

Charles is taller than me, but his features are still young. His dark hair is the same color as mine, but where he has Daddy's blue eyes, mine are green.

"You know our well-being isn't your responsibility, right? You don't have to take all of that on your shoulders."

"I know." His voice is barely loud enough to hear.

"Mama has a job waiting for her when we get to Charles Town, and I'm sure I can get one when we arrive. I can help."

He turns toward me. "What if you have a spell while you're away from Mama?"

"Then I'll have a spell. I'll be okay. I'm always okay."

"Elsie, you can't take that chance. You know what happened…" Charles doesn't finish his sentence.

"I know. But that was different." I lay my head on his shoulder. "Get some sleep. I have a feeling we're going to need it."

His breathing slows down quickly and joins the symphony of snores coming from the rest of our family. The rocking of the ship, combined with the heat of the room, lulls me into a deep sleep quicker than intended.