Chapter 6
CHAPTER 6
SATURDAY, DECEMBER 7
The clock on the nightstand read half past seven. The sun was trying to rise, and Howard and Adelaide were still in bed. Howard loved Saturday mornings when he didn’t have to kiss his wife goodbye and hurry off to work. Today, he would join her in the search for Jack’s family. Addy had shared her frustrating attempts this past week, visiting five orphanages without luck. Like the hero in one of the adventure stories he’d read as a boy, Howard was determined to race to the rescue.
“I’ve come up with a plan for today,” he told her as they lingered beneath the covers. “I’ve thought of a way we might be able to learn more about Jack’s family.”
Addy snuggled closer. “Really? Tell me your plan, Mr. Forsythe.”
“Jack told us that he used to go to church to pray with his mother, right? I think we should go back to his old neighborhood and look for places of worship within walking distance of his tenement. Hopefully, Jack will recognize one of the churches and perhaps his priest or pastor can tell us more about the family.”
“I think you’re brilliant. You know that, don’t you?”
“Thanks. But don’t heap too many accolades on my head until we see if my plan works.”
He hoped that it would. And that it wouldn’t take all day. He would hire a carriage to drive them again, and the extra fees were slowly adding up.
They dressed and ate breakfast, and the three of them were ready to put his plan into motion when the carriage arrived. They crossed Manhattan to Jack’s old neighborhood and once again, a swarm of children quickly descended on them like flies around a honeypot.
“Stay here in the carriage, Addy,” Howard said. “It’s too cold for you to be walking around outside. I’ll tell the driver to follow Jack and me when we start walking.”
“All right. I’ll keep my fingers crossed.” Howard saw her shiver. The hired carriage wasn’t as warm or as weatherproof as the carriages Addy was accustomed to. Her family’s coachman had somehow managed to warm up the inside of them before setting out. Addy insisted she didn’t mind. But Howard did.
He climbed out, ignoring the urchins who darted around him, and walked with Jack to the front of the tenement. With his hands on Jack’s shoulders, Howard turned him around to face the street. “Pretend you and your mother are going to go to church to light a candle and pray for your papa. Do you remember which way you would start walking?”
“Yes,” he said without hesitation. “That way.”
“Let’s go. You lead the way.” They started in the direction that Jack had indicated while the horses slowly clopped along behind them. Howard scanned the sky above the tenements for a church steeple but didn’t see one beyond the jumble of rickety buildings and endless lines of flapping laundry. Jack halted twice, pausing to look around before walking again. He turned a corner, then spotted a stately brick church up ahead moments before Howard did. He started to run. “Jack! Hold on! Wait up!” Howard couldn’t keep up, forced to watch his step in the crumbling, potholed street. By the time he’d reached the church and had helped Addy from the carriage, Jack had tugged open the heavy oak door and disappeared inside. “I see what you mean about Jack running off on you, Addy. He’s fast, isn’t he? We should sign him up for the footraces.”
The sanctuary had the dusty stillness of an attic. If the building had heat, it wasn’t working. Howard could see his breath in the incense-scented air. But it was peaceful inside, and the beauty of the winter sun shining through the stained glass windows made him feel as though he had entered a kaleidoscope. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, and when they did, he saw Jack up front by a display of flickering candles. On the other side of the nave, three elderly women in shawls and kerchiefs awaited their turn in the confessional.
“You stay with Jack,” Howard whispered to Addy. “I’ll wait to talk to the priest.” She nodded and made her way down the aisle to where Jack had dropped to his knees, hands folded in prayer. Howard crossed to the booth, wondering what would become of Jack if God didn’t answer his seemingly impossible prayers.
When the last woman left the confessional, Howard slipped inside. He could hear the priest’s raspy breathing and glimpsed black robes and white hair through the metal grate. “Good morning, Father. My name is Howard Forsythe, and I’m here with one of your young parishioners named Jack Thomas. Would you have a moment to help us?”
“Yes, of course.” They both exited the booth and Howard shook the elderly priest’s hand. It felt like ice. “I’m Father Flannigan. How can I help?”
“I’m wondering if you remember that young boy over there. His name is Jack Thomas. He used to come here to pray with his mother and younger sister.”
The priest shuffled closer to the display of candles, squinting as he studied Jack. He slowly shook his head. “I’m sorry. So many people come and go, you see.”
Howard refused to give up. Maybe he didn’t recognize Jack in his new clothes. “Mrs. Thomas was a young mother from a nearby tenement. She had two small children, Jack and his three-year-old sister, Polly. They used to come here to light candles and pray for their father’s safe return.”
Father Flannigan had been shaking his head, but he suddenly stopped. “Wait! Was the father a sailor who was away at sea?”
“Yes!” Howard shouted with excitement. Addy and Jack both looked up at him. Jack scrambled to his feet and raced over, his shoes slapping on the stone floor and echoing in the sanctuary.
“They used to come quite often,” Father Flannigan said, “but I don’t think they’ve been here for a while.”
“I’m sorry to say that Mrs. Thomas passed away in October. The authorities took Jack to an orphanage, and he was accidentally separated from his sister. We’re trying to find her.”
“Ah, yes. I remember now. The girl was an odd little child. Good as gold during Mass. Never talked or said a word. Some kids get restless, you know? They cry and make a fuss. But she was a dreamy little thing, like she was listening to the angels. Very sweet, but something about her was not quite right.”
Howard remembered Jack’s reaction when the boys from his tenement criticized Polly, and quickly squeezed Jack’s shoulder in warning. “What about Mr. Thomas? Do you remember anything that might help us locate him? What type of ship he worked on? A fishing vessel? Cargo ship? A passenger ship, maybe? Or where the ship was headed? Jack says his father is expected home around Christmas, but with his wife gone, and the tenement rented to someone else, the poor man won’t know where to find his children.”
“I see. I see.” The priest stroked his chin as he pondered Howard’s questions. “From what I can recall, it was a steamship of some sort. I believe he worked in the boiler room. I got the impression it was a cargo ship, not a passenger liner, but I could be mistaken.” He looked down at Jack, resting his hand on the boy’s head for a moment. “I’m very sorry to hear about your mother, son. She was a lovely woman.”
Howard thanked Father Flannigan for his help and gave him one of his business cards in case Jack’s father inquired at the church. Then they walked outside into the bright winter light. “What now?” Addy asked. She gazed up at Howard, believing in him to do the impossible and find Jack’s family. He had won her admiration and respect when his scheme to find her grandmother’s lost son had worked. They had found him and reunited the pair. Addy was counting on his cleverness to do it again. He had to think.
“Jack, do you know your father’s first name? Do you remember what your mama called him?”
“Sometimes she called him deer . It made me laugh because he didn’t have antlers.”
Howard managed a smile. “Can you remember anything else? Might you be named after him? I assume your full name is John and that Jack is your nickname?”
“What’s a nickname?”
“It’s a shorter version of a name, or sometimes a description of a person. A person with curly hair might have the nickname, Curly. My full name is Howard, but sometimes my mother calls me Howie.”
“My mama called me Jack.”
He was getting nowhere. And Addy was shivering. “Do you remember where your father worked before he went away on the ship? In a factory, maybe?”
“I don’t know.” The boy seemed near tears.
“He’s too young, Howard,” Addy whispered.
“Tell us anything you do remember about your father. Anything at all.”
Jack thought for a moment, biting his lip. “He was very strong. He used to throw me up in the air and catch me again and make me laugh. Sometimes he carried Polly or me on his shoulders. He used to sing songs to us at bedtime.” The boy’s voice began to tremble. “His beard felt soft when he kissed me.”
Howard guessed that this loving father hadn’t abandoned his family permanently. “Those are wonderful memories, Jack.”
“Mama and Polly and me cried when he had to go away, but he promised he would be home in time for Christmas, and he said he would bring us something special from his travels.”
“It sounds like he loves you and your family very much.”
Jack’s voice grew softer. “We went to see his ship sail away and wave goodbye.”
Howard’s heart speeded up. “Do you remember when that was? Was it springtime or summer maybe?”
“When it was hot. We walked a long way and Polly got tired.”
“Very good, Jack. You’ve helped a lot. I think I know where to go next.” He boosted Jack and Addy into the carriage and asked the driver to take them to the nearest pier or shipyard.
“What do you have in mind?” Addy asked as the carriage lurched forward.
“I’m hoping Jack will recognize something about the place or maybe the brand of shipping line. If so, I can ask if there’s a ship due to arrive home around Christmas, and maybe they’ll let me see their employment records and we can find out if they have a sailor with the surname Thomas.”
“You’re brilliant. You know that, don’t you?”
Howard winced. “Don’t celebrate yet. There are a lot of shipyards in this city. We might be searching for a needle in a haystack.”
As luck would have it, Jack did think he recognized the first pier they visited on the East River, about a mile from the tenement. But docks lined the riverbank as far as they could see in both directions, with dozens of ships being loaded and unloaded on the dozens of wharfs. “Let’s just walk along here a little way, Jack, and you can tell me if you see a ship that looks familiar. Addy, you should probably wait for us in the carriage. It’s damp and cold here by the water.”
She shook her head. “I want to go with you.” The wind that blew off the river was brisk, nearly snatching their hats from their heads. The area stank of dead fish and rotting garbage. The noise of machinery and squabbling gulls made Howard want to clap his hands over his ears, especially after the silence of the church sanctuary. Addy held tightly to his arm as they made their way north along the river. Jack seemed to have lost much of his enthusiasm and didn’t run ahead of them this time.
“Are you looking at the different kinds of ships, Jack? Do you see a paint color or an emblem that reminds you of your father’s ship?”
“I think the chimney looked like that one,” he said, pointing to a smokestack that was painted black, red, and white. “And I remember that sign because it has a seagull on it.” He pointed to the emblem for Patterson & Sons—a white ring with their name surrounding a red circle with a seagull.
“Excellent! Good job, Jack! Let’s go talk to them.” They found the main office, which was a hive of activity because of a recently arrived ship. They had to wait several minutes before talking to the man in charge, but at least it was warm inside the office. At last, the manager turned his attention to them.
“I’m Jacob Patterson. How can I help you folks?”
Howard breathed a sigh of relief that the owner seemed friendly. He gave Mr. Patterson his business card, and as briefly as possible, explained how the search for Jack’s father had led them to this office. Mr. Patterson was in his early forties and kept gazing at Adelaide while Howard spoke, apparently smitten by her beauty and aristocratic bearing. Howard didn’t like having men stare at his wife, but if it helped them find Jack’s father, so be it.
“I would like to help you folks,” Patterson said when Howard finished, “but I should warn you that we aren’t the only shipping line that paints our smokestacks those colors. Our emblem is distinctive, though. And we do have several ships that are due to arrive during the month of December. Because of the holidays and all.”
Addy must have noticed Mr. Patterson’s interest in her because she gave him a dazzling smile and took over the questioning. “That’s completely understandable, Mr. Patterson. But I wonder if it might be possible to look at the employee records for those ships and see if there is a sailor on your payroll with the surname of Thomas?”
“Oh, but there would be hundreds of names to search through, ma’am.”
“I understand. This looks like a thriving, prosperous business, and I’m sure you are a busy man. My husband and I would be willing to read through the names on our own, if you’ll allow it.”
Patterson was so charmed by Addy that he not only gave them his record books, but he even offered Addy a chair. Jack stood at the window and watched the activity on the pier while he waited. He seemed tense and alert as if studying the faces of all the laborers to see if one of them might be his father.
Howard found three men with the surname Thomas in the book he read through. Addy found a fourth in hers. The records gave first initials only, and not the sailors’ full names, but none of them started with a J for John or Jack. It took well over an hour to peruse the names of all the men on all the ships that were due to arrive this month, and in the meantime, Patterson had gone outside. Addy showed him the results when he returned. “May I ask one more favor?” she said, smiling sweetly. “May we leave business cards and a short note for all the sailors named Thomas, so the right one will be able to find his son Jack?”
“Sure. But maybe I should mention that foreign ships put into port on these docks and anchor alongside our ships. Your missing man could have found work on one of them easier than on mine. Foreign sailors sign up to work in their home countries and sometimes jump ship when they get to America. Happens all the time, and then the captains need to hire new workers.”
Howard saw Addy’s smile vanish at the hopelessness of it all. They had reached another dead end. He thanked Mr. Patterson and they walked back to the carriage, where the hourly fare had continued to add up. By now, everyone was shivering, including the horses. “That’s all for today,” Howard said, masking his frustration. “Let’s go home and warm up.”