Chapter 8 #2
A strong swell knocked into the pier. Her chest tightened, the warm glow from the butler’s praise long gone.
Maybe she should have pocketed the ring.
Where would she and Ma go now, with so little coin?
Ma’s countryside friends, who’d attended to her in Ma’s hour of greatest need, had moved years ago without leaving word of their new address.
And everyone on their London block would recognize Ma or Mary—or rather, Mark—and might seize the opportunity for a petty reward. Who could they trust?
Trust Ma, Mary told herself as a gust of wind slammed into her. Ma will take care of us.
When she returned, Ma smiled and exhaled with what appeared to be relief, though her mouth was lined with sorrow.
“I have a plan,” she said firmly, taking Mary’s hand like she had years earlier, when Mary was still a young child accompanying her to sell bread.
Ma led her through the press of bodies until they reached the top of the docks and stood in front of a familiar vessel flying England’s colors.
Ma knelt down, still clutching Mary’s hands in hers. “Captain Southwick,” Ma said, “has agreed to take you on his merchant ship.”
A shadow crept into Mary’s heart. She glanced up, where she could make out the figure of Captain Southwick, the older gentleman who’d always bought hardtack from Ma. “What about you?” Mary asked.
More tears filled Ma’s eyes, and Mary collapsed with despair into her arms.
“Shh,” Ma soothed, rocking Mary in a hug and speaking softly.
“Listen carefully, my baby. My darling, darling girl. I know this isn’t easy.
I know this is a moment both of us will carry for the rest of our lives.
So remember, please remember and hear what I have to say. Maybe someday you will understand.”
Mary could form no words. Ma pulled back for just a moment and held Mary’s shoulders firmly.
“These clothes were your pa’s. Your real pa. A good man, I’ll swear it until the end. God rest his soul.”
Mary’s lip quivered.
“Captain Southwick was a friend to your pa. He too is a good man, someone of influence—an educated fellow,” Ma continued. “A kind gentleman who runs a good ship. We can put our faith in him. He can make something of you.”
Finally, Mary’s flood of emotions became words. “When will I see you again?”
Ma’s face crumpled, but then she put on a smile and threw her arms around Mary, enveloping her like a blanket warmed by the hearth.
“This is the hardest part of what I have to say,” Ma said at last, with pinched deliberation. “But I need you to listen. Are you listening, Mary?”
She nodded furiously, not minding that Ma called her by her true name in public. Because to Mary, there was no one else in the world except her and Ma.
“I tried to give you everything I could in this life, and it hasn’t been enough.”
“It has been enough,” Mary said as tears flowed down her cheeks, her head resting on Ma’s shoulder. “We have everything we need. We have each other.”
Ma exhaled. “Heed everything I have to say, darling. There are better jobs, more secure ways in the world, for a boy than a girl. I’ve told you this is so.
But you’ll never rise to any station as a stable boy, coming home to me and worrying about our basic welfare at every opportunity. And now, we have a debt on our heads.”
“I don’t want any other job,” Mary cried. “And I’m earning more now.”
“I know, my dear. But as God lives and granted me the gift of being your mother, I want you to live a life. Not just survive one. Not just scurry from fear to fear, in search of a place to rest your head and troubles. If I’d been born a man …
” At this, Ma choked, and then began again.
“If I’d been born a man, there’s so much more I could have done to prevent this heartache.
But I am not a man. Just as you are not.
But for now, my love, my heart, you can be—for a precious few more years.
And I need you to promise me something.”
Mary held Ma like it was answer enough.
“Promise me, my child, that you will not come looking for me. That you will not come back.”
“I can’t promise that,” Mary said at once, shaking her head and smearing tears on Ma’s scarf. “I won’t do that. Never.”
Ma rocked her in her arms. “The trouble of being a woman, Mary, is that women take care of everyone else before ever getting the chance to start their own lives. And a woman like me? In my circumstances?” she huffed.
“There is no climbing up. I am a risk to both of us. But for you? A ship’s boy making a modest wage, making his way in a proper trade?
By the sweat of your own labor, you might have better.
You might get a wonderful chance to truly live.
Not just the life that was handed to you, in this hovel corner of the world.
But the life I wanted for you. The life you deserve.
One with choice. Freedom. Until the day when you no longer need or want to pretend.
When you can be safe and also true to who you are. ”
Mary’s breath snagged and she struggled for air, but she heard every troubling word.
“I can do this and still come back. I’ll work hard, then return to look after you. I’ll pay the debt, I will! I’ll find you.”
“I know you would,” Ma said, with another embrace that threatened to crack the earth in two. “That is why you can’t. That is why I must flee—somewhere where these brutes won’t find me. And most importantly, where they will never find you.”
“No,” Mary said, shaking her head again.
No.
Ma took Mary’s hand and led her to the gangplank of Captain Southwick’s ship.
Mary felt limp, like her soul had been dragged out of her.
But she followed her mother’s sturdy steps as they boarded the merchant vessel.
How did she dare move? Mary did not know.
She would spend years looking at this moment, replaying it in her mind.
The trust between her and Ma stretched out like a taut rope, invisible, and yet a powerful tether all the same.
Mary fought to breathe. She tried and tried to breathe as she absorbed her surroundings: men pulling at lines thicker than snakes, another man shouting orders to take in the aft sail, a circle of others pushing their full force against a wheel to lift the anchor chain.
The deck rocked beneath her, an unsettling motion.
She’d never been on so much as a rowboat.
“Welcome to the crew, Mark Read. We’re so pleased you’ve joined us,” Captain Southwick said.
He wore a tricorn and a blue waistcoat with brass buttons.
“You’ve arrived just in time; we are ready to make way.
My second-in-command will show you to your hammock and give you a tour of the ship once we leave the harbor. ”
Mary looked up and blinked, taking in his wrinkles, his gray wig, and his well-fed belly. She’d never studied him, never truly seen him. He had only been the kind man who purchased Ma’s supplies. Did he know her father well? Did he know where she’d find Ma again?
I’ll find you, Mary vowed, whirling to face her mother.
“Take care of my son,” Ma said, holding her chin high and speaking with authority. “Watch after him, Captain. Care for him as if he were your own.”
“I’ll do everything I can,” Captain Southwick said, clapping a hand on Mary’s shoulder.
“Ma,” Mary said. She pulled away from the captain, and, trembling, fell back into her mother’s arms. She didn’t care if it made her appear weak.
“You’ll learn to be a man now, Mark,” Ma said. And Mary winced at the shift. “Be brave. You are, and always will be, the greatest joy of my life. Remember what I said. What I taught you. I love you. Don’t look back.”
It was Captain Southwick who finally pulled Mary away from Ma. Mary felt as if her head were underwater. She could make out none of the final words the captain and Ma exchanged before Ma descended the gangplank.
Mary ran for the rail, staring down at her Ma with shock and disbelief as Ma began to walk away. The shouts of the crew and sounds of the moving ship surrounded her.
Look back, Mary begged. Her vision blurred from weeping.
Her mother moved on through the crowd, slow and heavy. Mary wiped her eyes and squinted, careful not to lose sight of her.
Please look back.
“To your positions,” a man behind her barked at the others. Someone blew a whistle. The ship lurched forward, and Mary gripped the rail to keep her balance.
“Come with me, lad,” Captain Southwick said with tenderness, suddenly at her side. “It’s no use pining.”
She didn’t hear him or his steps moving away. Instead, Mary stood frozen at the rail, staring at her mother shrinking, until at last, Ma did turn around.
Scarf clutched to her chin, Mary watched Ma tremble, a finger pressed to her mouth. They locked eyes, or so Mary imagined, as they moved farther and farther away from each other.
Ma raised her hand, extending it out. Mary raised her own with a limp wave, the baggy sleeve falling down her forearm.
Ma did not move again. She stood steadfast and watched, fixed forever though the distance grew. Mary’s throat burned. Waves crashed against the hull. Her head pulsed and her raw eyes burned from the briny air.
But Mary did not budge. Not for minutes, maybe hours. Not until the dock was a gash of dark against the gray-blue horizon.
Only then did Captain Southwick return. “This way, lad,” he said softly. “I’ll introduce you to the crew and Master Tansley, my first mate.”
Mary peered up at him.
He considered her in silence, then beamed. “I remember well the day I set out on my first voyage,” he said. “It gets easier, lad. I promise.”
Mary blinked and remembered to breathe again. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been holding her breath. It was only then that Mary realized the coins were still in her pocket. What about Ma?
How would she live?
“You’ll start off working in the galley like all cabin boys,” Captain Southwick said. “But if you are anything like your pa, you’ll serve best with a ring dial and a sounding weight in hand. I’ll see to your training myself.”
“Sir?” Mary managed to utter.
“Time will tell, lad, but keen navigation runs in your blood.”