whale
Life on the ship took on a strange intensity. With the bunks already so crowded there was not sufficient space to create a ship’s hospital. The sick remained where they were and those who could bear it joined the passengers already sleeping above deck to give more room and air to those below. More would have gone, but the sea had grown rough again, and waves sometimes broke against the boat, sending foam and spray across bedding and blankets. On occasions of very heavy weather, sea water spilling across the deck would reach us in steerage, where it swilled anything loose upon the floor into corners. The humidity remained stifling. Gottfried Volkmann recounted his experiences of typhus in the wars against the French and was shouted down. No one wanted to hear about the smell of the bodies he had seen. Traugott Geschke and Samuel Radtke came to blows as a long-running feud over a bull was reignited, and Papa was forced to come between them and mediate. The doctor, people noticed, was nearly always drunk. He confused passengers, forgot their names. Amalie Schultze nearly took medicine she did not need because he believed her to be a different woman.
Mama had not spent much time with me in the bow, except to hand over or collect Hermine, but after Ottilie and Helbig died, she started taking me aside after prayers on deck, asking how I was, how the other women in the bow were feeling. One afternoon, having spent the whole day in bed, I looked up and saw her standing at the bottom of my berth.
‘Anna Maria told me you did not eat breakfast,’ she said, gripping the empty upper bunk to steady herself.
I had not realised the Wend had been keeping my mother apprised of my wellbeing, and I wondered whether my mother shared Magdalena’s opinions or whether Hermine’s birth had convinced her of Anna Maria’s skill.
‘I’m just resting,’ I told her. ‘My ankle hurts.’ The sea had grown thuggish since midnight and by morning the ship had been pitching with new violence. I had fallen against the side of the trestle when the ship plunged, spraining my ankle and slamming my shins so hard against the bench that I was convinced I had broken bone. The skin had already darkened to a mottled plum.
Mama leaned towards me and placed a hand on my forehead. I noticed her eyes flick to the unwell in their bunks.
‘Truly, I am fine. It is just my ankle. I tripped, earlier.’
‘No headaches? No pains in your stomach? You feel warm. Where is Thea?’
I shook my head. ‘With her mother in the kitchen galley. How is Papa?’
My mother sat down on the berth and smoothed the blankets. ‘Your father is stalwart.’
‘And Matthias?’
‘I have heard he is having a wonderful time being drenched upon deck. He has turned quite wild with the adventure.’
I smiled, but I could see that Mama was worried. She looked back at the hatchway, visible at the side of the half-opened curtain. Sea water was washing down the stairs.
‘He will come down if it gets worse than this?’ I asked.
She nodded. ‘People are talking of lashing themselves to their bunks.’
As if in response to this, the ship lurched and we grabbed each other.
‘God in Heaven.’
Mama glanced back at the hatch. ‘We shall be swimming soon. All this water.’
‘Mama, you’re hurting me.’
‘What?’
‘My arms.’
‘Oh.’ Mama let go, then lay down beside me. The ship plummeted and she closed her eyes. It was dark below decks, on account of the bad weather, but I could still see that the journey had thinned her face. It made her beauty a little harder, a little more jarring. I let my eyes fill with her, my mother, dark gem.
‘You are happy here with the other girls?’ She spoke without opening her eyes.
‘I am teaching Thea whitework. On calmer days, when we can hold a needle without the threat of taking out our eyes.’
‘Mutter Scheck takes good care of you?’
‘Yes.’
Mama opened her eyes and, taking my chin in her fingers, turned my face to hers.
‘What is it?’ I braced myself for warning. For criticism.
Her eyes looked black in the low light. Her gaze unnerved me.
‘What?’
‘I thank God for you,’ she said softly, more to herself than to me.
At that moment there was a cry from the hatchway. Both of us lifted our heads and saw that two people lay on the floor, water washing around them.
Mama sat up. ‘Oh no, it’s Elize,’ she said, and before I could respond she pulled herself out of the berth and rushed towards the main quarters, even as the ship tipped and sent her stumbling sideways through the curtain. She was gone.