Tamar Read Free Page A

Could get stuffy after three months. I’m not lookin’ forward ter it. I’m Polly Jakes.’ Climbing out of her bunk, she indicated her companions. ‘An’ this ’ere’s Sally Thomas and Jane Shilton.’
    Tamar introduced herself. Polly, Sally and Jane were emigrating to New Zealand in search of a better life and, hopefully, husbands. Polly was petite, pretty and cheerful and pleasingly round. Sally was slender and dark while Jane was solid but fit-looking with wavy black hair. Tamar judged them to be in their early twenties and immediately envied their obvious comradeship.
    ‘Phew,’ said Jane, fanning her face with her hat. ‘There’s no air in ’ere already. Let’s go up on deck, shall we, see what’s happenin’? You comin’, Tamar?’
    Absurdly pleased to be invited, Tamar hung her bag on a nail at the back of her bunk and followed them back through the swarming, din-filled married quarters and up the ladder to the deck. Most of the equipment and provisions strewn about just half an hour before had gone. As they moved towards the bulwark closest to the dock they heard a commotion below; looking down, they saw a group of well-dressed people standing around an enormous pile of luggage, some of which was being hoisted onto the shoulders of various crew members. Cabin passengers, thought Tamar.
    As a crewman lifted a particularly heavy-looking case, one of the women in the group shrieked, ‘Careful with that, you clumsy fool! My best Wedgwood china is in that case. If I find any of it broken when we reach New Zealand, I will hold you personally responsible!’
    The crewman looked at the woman, middle-aged and overdressed in a bustled gown bedecked with braid, fringes and piping,topped off with an ornate lace cap, its long ribbons flying in the strong breeze. ‘Of course, Ma’am,’ he replied. ‘I know ’ow yer valuables need ter be treated, Ma’am.’
    He plodded up the steep gangway, balancing the crate expertly on his right shoulder. As he neared Tamar and her new friends, he said under his breath, ‘They should be shoved up yer arse, Ma’am,’ and winked at the girls.
    Polly laughed out loud and Tamar held her hand over her face to conceal her smile, which she hastily wiped off as the party began to imperiously ascend. There appeared to be several families with children, as well as two or three single men. One of these was white-haired and distinguished-looking, while the other two were quite young, perhaps in their late twenties or early thirties. Each doffed their hat politely as they passed.
    From somewhere above a bell rang, evidently a signal the ship was about to cast off as crewmen began to untie ropes holding the ship to the dock, while more trunks and provisions were raced up the gangway. Emigrants began to line the bulwarks for what, for most, would be the last view of their homeland; many wept openly and children cried loudly at their parents’ distress. The Rebecca Jane shuddered as the tugboat towing her into Plymouth Sound moved away from the dock.
    Tamar felt an aching sadness and bit her lip to stop herself crying again. She would miss Cornwall’s harsh beauty, its wild coastlines and mists and rains, but most of all she would miss her family. But she knew she would never see them again in this life, so did it matter where she was? In a perverse way this made her feel better. She raised her head and let the sharp wind blow into her face and lift her hair.
    ‘You all right, luv?’ asked Sally.
    ‘Yes, I’m fine. It’s just that New Zealand’s such a long way away.’

    ‘I know, but think of them opportunities. A new country, new jobs. New men! They do say there’s three fer every unattached girl!’ She uttered the last comment with such enthusiasm Tamar had to smile.
    They stayed on deck until the dock and Plymouth itself had receded into the distance. The wind picked up as the Rebecca Jane moved into the sound; her sails were unfurled as the tugboat detached itself,