As the two girls stood back, taking in the scene before them, Peg stepped from a cluster of laughing women, waved a hand that held a glass of sloshing liquid, and called rather loudly, “Over here. Join the party.”
Kathleen held back but Erma pulled her forward. “Come. Let’s join the fun.”
Someone passed Kathleen a glass filled with—something. She took a tentative sip, didn’t like it, so just held the glass in her hand and tried hard not to look too uncomfortable and conspicuous.
“I thought Mr. Jenks said about twenty girls,” she managed to whisper to Erma.
“Twenty from England. The other twenty have joined us from the Continent.”
“From the Continent? Mercy me!” exclaimed Kathleen.
“Many of the American men came from the Continent,” Erma explained carefully. “They wish wives from their home countries. Only makes sense.”
Kathleen nodded. She supposed it did make sense.
She hardly had time to think about it before a shout was heard over the din. “Here’s to America,” someone called, lifting her glass high in the air. More shouts followed. The party seemed to be getting more and more rowdy.
“Here’s to the men,” came another cry.
“Here’s to their wealth,” called a third girl with a hiccup and a giggle, and such a commotion followed her words that Kathleen could hardly think.
Mr. Jenks stepped forward then. Kathleen wondered if he intended to get control before things were entirely out of hand.
“Ladies!” he called. “Ladies!”
It took several cries before he made himself heard.
“Ladies. I wish I could ask you to take a seat,” he smiled at them. “But as you can see, there are no chairs available.”
“No problem!” shouted Peg, waving her glass in the air, and she plopped down on the carpeted floor, her skirts swirling out around her.
Giggles followed as one by one the women took her lead and settled themselves unceremoniously on the floor. Kathleen stood, her glass clutched in white-knuckled fingers, her eyes wide with shock at the scene. Never had she observed such unruly conduct.
“Ladies,” said Mr. Jenks again. “I know you are all excited about this new adventure. And it is exciting. I wish you all the very best as you begin your new lives—in a new home—with a new—” He stopped and raised an eyebrow, then smiled at them all, “—husband,” he finished, and was rewarded with loud cheers and lifted glasses.
Mr. Jenks had to wait further for the commotion to subside.
“We will be at sea for a number of days. I have a cabin located on the lower deck. It is easy to find, and I have posted my name on it in big letters. I will wish to see each one of you individually during the trip to make all the final arrangements.
“Many of you already have all of the particulars about the man you will be marrying, but a few—”
Mr. Jenks was forced to wait while the cheers filled the room again. Some girls pulled forth papers from hidden spots, like pockets, wrist purses, and bodices, and waved them in the air as they hooted. Kathleen even saw one girl raise her skirts and withdraw a paper from her stockings.
When the calls subsided, Mr. Jenks continued. “You will all need to see me. I will post a list with your name and the date and time that you are to appear. Please, try to keep the appointment. It will be most difficult to reschedule and could put your situation in jeopardy.
“You all have your room assignments. I know they are crowded but”—he stopped to smile—“you have good mates. We will do all we can to make the voyage as pleasant for you as possible.
“Now, I do have many duties to see to, so if you will excuse me. Please, feel free to stay and enjoy yourselves as long as you wish. The gentlemen here will be glad to serve you. And will show you back to your cabins, should you need assistance.” He surveyed the group one more time and then added, “Good-day.”
Mr. Jenks bowed and left the room to the cheers of the women.
Kathleen stood looking about her. Many of them were still on the floor. Some were even playfully rolling around, their skirts carelessly flying about them. Kathleen felt a little sick. Was this the kind of girl who “sold” herself to a man in America? Whatever had she done?
Her face blanched pale and she reached out to clutch Erma’s hand.
“I—I’d like to go to the cabin,” she managed to whisper. “Could—could you show me the way?”
Erma looked at her and her gray eyes widened. “Are you sick?” she asked anxiously.
“I—I think so,” responded Kathleen. “I—I—”
But Erma waited no longer. She took the glass, still filled, from Kathleen’s hand and set in on the table. It was promptly grabbed by another hand even before Kathleen could turn away.
Gently Erma led Kathleen toward the cabin. She did not rush. Kathleen had no trouble keeping up to the other girl as she limped along beside her.
“Here we are,” said Erma as she opened the cabin door with the key she withdrew from her bodice. “Just you lie down, lovey, and get some rest. The feel of the sea is strange to some. I grew up with it—so I never give it a second thought.”
“It’s not the sea,” responded Kathleen before she thought to check her tongue.
Erma’s face showed concern. “Something else, then? Do you have a sickness that you didn’t confess?”
All the girls had been grilled about their health.
“Oh no,” quickly responded Kathleen. “I’m fine—truly. It was just—just—well I’m not used to such—such bawdy behavior. I—I—”
“Oh that,” said Erma with a careless shrug.
“It was—was—oh, Erma, is that the kind of woman they expect us to be?”
“Now don’t you go judging too harshly,” said Erma firmly. “It’s all—well, it’s just a—a cover for their real feelings.”
Kathleen could only stare.
Erma reached out a hand to give Kathleen a boost up on to her bunk. It was too close to the cabin ceiling. Kathleen felt as if she would soon be gasping for air, but she tried to calm her unsettled nerves. Erma sat down on the lowest bunk opposite and studied her hands in her lap before lifting her eyes to Kathleen again.
“We—we might not have come from the best—best circumstances,” Erma began, “but at least we knew where we fit. Now—well, now everything will be different—new—rather—rather scary. For all of us. Oh, we know where we are going. The name of some unknown town. We know if we are to marry a farmer or a rancher or a hotel owner or—” She stopped and shrugged.
“We have been given a piece of paper with a name on it. Maybe a little information. Height, weight, age, coloring. Maybe not even that. But what do we really know? Does he have a temper? Is he quite sane? Will he make unheard-of demands? Use his fists? Drink too much?”
Kathleen drew in her breath. She had not thought of all those horrible possibilities.
“But Mr. Jenks said—” she began.
“Mr. Jenks is a man out to make a profit,” Erma reminded her.
Silence hung heavy in the room as Kathleen absorbed that observation. If she had felt sick before, she felt doubly so now. She rolled to her side on the narrow bed and put her hands over her face.
“I’m not out to scare you, lovey,” went on Erma quickly, “but we’ve all had to face the facts.”
Kathleen began to sob quietly, her thin shoulders trembling against the worn gray blanket of the bunk.
Erma stood to her feet and crossed to the younger girl.
“Why did you sign on?” she asked quietly.
“Because—because Madam, my stepmother, was marrying again. She didn’t want me—or so I thought. Turned out she did. Would have taken me as a housemaid. Oh, I should have gone. I should have,” sobbed Kathleen.