Tamar Read Free

Tamar closed her eyes in relief and the Kellows relaxed visibly as they surged forward.
    The deck was pandemonium, crowded with emigrants saying goodbye to friends and family and children running about shrieking with excitement or wailing in confusion, piles of luggage, ropes, provisions, boxes and bales, live chickens in crates and fresh dung from the ship’s milking cows. All this was overlaid with the sharp smell of the sea and the reek of a slightly stale catch from the fishing boat moored at the next quay.
    ‘Pay heed!’ bellowed a seaman, standing on a large cask to get the passengers’ attention. ‘I am First Mate of the Rebecca Jane , bound for New Zealand. We expect the voyage to take three months, less if the wind favours us, and in the interests of shortening our running time we will not land at Cape Town. The Master will be aboard shortly and we will head into the sound in an hour. Move your trunks over to the afterhatch for the lumpers to take down, but take out what you need now because we’ll not be opening the hold for another month. Take the rest of your belongings below. The Second Mates will show you where to go. Cabin passengers will be boarding shortly. All non-passengers ashore.’
    Tamar turned to George Kellow and his wife, mouthed ‘thank you’, smiled at his wink, then dragged her trunk to the afterhatch, already surrounded by a mountain of scruffy-looking luggage. As she moved towards the main hatch there was a mad crush as people fought to get down the steep ladder first for the best berths. When it was Tamar’s turn to descend into the creaking belly of the ship, she could barely make out her surroundings. As her eyes became accustomed to the gloom, she saw there were no best berths.
    A man’s voice called, ‘Single women over here!’
    Tamar moved towards what she assumed was the front of theship, where a young crewman held yet another list. He looked up and asked, ‘Name?’
    ‘Miss Tamar Deane,’ she replied.
    ‘Papers?’ Tamar handed over her certificate of passage and confirmation of medical examination and the crewman ticked her name off.
    ‘Through this door and you’ll see the single women’s quarters.’ He pushed the door open with his foot and pointed. ‘See? Bunks on your left, put your gear on one, you’ll be taking your meals at the mid-ship tables back the way you’ve come. Matron’ll have a word when everyone’s settled.’
    Tamar stepped into the cramped and stale-smelling cabin, closed the door behind her and looked about for a bunk. Remembering what Brigid had said in her letter about the incessant noise from married couples and families in the middle of the ship, she chose the berth furthest from the door. The bunks were built one above the other, extending from the hull into the centre of the cabin. She dropped her gear onto the bottom one, a very narrow space she could see she would have to get into feet first. There was a small shelf at the back but nowhere else to put her things, with only a small curtain at the front for privacy.
    Wearily she pulled her thin blanket and a sheet out of her travel bag and spread them on the sad-looking mattress. She bent down to examine it closely, looking for wildlife and other unpleasant signs of past use, but could not see properly in the gloom. The four lanterns in the cabin did little to penetrate the murk.
    ‘Don’t think there’s anythin’ livin’ in ’em, an’ they smell like they’ve ’ad a good wash, but yer never can tell!’
    Tamar jumped at the voice, hitting her head on the top bunk. Hearing a giggle, she turned and saw she had walked past three young women reclining in the bunks nearest the door.
    ‘You gave me a fright!’ she gasped.

    ‘Sorry, luv,’ said the speaker, a girl with heavy blonde hair tied back with a green ribbon. ‘Thought you’d seen us on yer way in.’
    ‘No, I didn’t, I’m sorry. It’s quite dark in here.’
    ‘It is,’ said the blonde girl. ‘An’ cramped.