Devotion(48)

Thea inched closer to her mother on the bench. ‘Mama, can you help them?’

Anna Maria nodded, lips pressed together. ‘I have been treating some for fever.’ Looking at Thea, she added, ‘I have a little of that remedy in brandy we packed, but everything else is dry and I have trouble accessing the kitchen.’ She hesitated. ‘There are some who do not like to see me use it for distillations.’

I glanced around the bow and saw Christiana sitting with Henriette on their bunk, showing her a thimble. ‘It’s my grandmother’s,’ I heard her say. ‘She gave it to me for my hope chest.’ Henriette responded by describing the embroidery on a tablecloth.

I turned back to Anna Maria. ‘Are you talking about Magdalena Radtke?’

‘She is one of them, yes.’ The Wend followed my line of sight and, as if she felt her gaze, Christiana looked up, thimble on her index finger. There was no warmth in her face as she stared at Anna Maria.

‘Did Magdalena say something, Hanne?’ Thea asked.

‘I . . . I heard her. The night Elizabeth died.’

Anna Maria placed her palms down on the surface of the table. ‘I might have been able to help that child.’

‘Mama, perhaps if you assisted the doctor in his ministrations, these people might –’

‘I tried, Thea. He took offence. He didn’t even do me the honour of replying, only gave me a look of such utter scorn . . .’ She took a deep breath. ‘As though I haven’t birthed a multitude of children, healed those too poor to pay for the quackery of him and his kind.’ She sighed. ‘It’s all right, girls. I will help those who ask for it. Thankfully, there are some who do not share Magdalena’s poor opinion of me.’

Thea glanced over to where Ottilie was sleeping in the bunk nearby. ‘Mama, Ottilie hasn’t been eating. She can’t keep anything down. Mutter Scheck sent for Dr Meissner yesterday, but when he came, he didn’t give her anything. He told us to watch for fever, but did so without even bringing a hand to her forehead himself.’

Anna Maria shook her head in exasperation.

‘He’s supposed to make daily rounds, isn’t he?’ continued Thea. ‘To check on the health of all passengers? To ensure cleanliness? Well, he hardly ever comes into the bow. Ottilie has been unwell since we set out, and he only learned this yesterday. And when he came, Mutter Scheck made the mistake of complaining about the food, and he told her she was welcome to give her rations to those who desired them.’

It was true that the provisions on board were hard to become accustomed to. The largest meal of the day was dinner, held at one o’clock, and usually consisted of salt pork or beef. It was heavy food; it did not sit well with us. At night Thea and I sometimes listed the things we missed. Pears. Sweet peas prised from pods. Raw, shredded cabbage. Sour apples.

As if reading my mind, Anna Maria asked us who had been assigned cook within our mess.

‘Christiana,’ Thea and I said in unison.

‘If all the doctor is going to do is tell us to fumigate with vinegar, I’ll see if I can’t keep you well with better food,’ Anna Maria muttered. ‘At the very least I might see if I can’t entice the sick girls here to eat a little more.’

Anna Maria had a word with Mutter Scheck that evening, and the following day Christiana was excused from her duties. Our mess’s fare improved dramatically. Salt pork baked on ship’s biscuit, which soaked up the fat and grew soft and flavoursome. Dumplings cooked in broth. Rice pudding that held the possibility of a rare, submerged prune. If Mutter saw Anna Maria boiling her herbs in the time now permitted to her in the kitchen galley, she never mentioned it to us.


The days grew warmer as we travelled further south, and by the time the Kristi passed Madeira, one month after our departure from Altona, the weather was uncomfortably hot. Bible pages wrinkled under damp fingers.

The nights became so muggy it took all my energy just to breathe in and out. Thea was slick with heat next to me. Anna Maria told us that Samuel Radtke had produced some pieces of sealing wax that had melted together.

Mutter Scheck, determined to keep us all from listlessness, produced a number of needles, white thread and cotton. ‘No need to waste your time aboard this ship,’ she said. ‘Think of the life you will lead in the colony. The home you will make. Keep these hours filled now, and you will be grateful you did not succumb to idleness when we arrive.’

For all that I had detested the drudgery of domestic chores at home in Kay, it was a relief to have something to take my mind off the oppressive atmosphere below deck, off the sweat that trickled down my spine and gathered in the small of my back, the smell of bodies and the sound of arguments. The heat shortened tempers, made people less willing to apologise for the inevitable conflicts arising from living in such close quarters. Anna Maria told us that over forty people were now confined to their beds in steerage, suffering from fevers, and that families were anxious. She had taken to smoking their beds with juniper and cloves, having run out of gentian and rhubarb tincture, and that night in bed Thea whispered to me that her mother was also using her book, privately, to make paper seals that might be worn on the bodies of those who were accepting of such things. When she saw my concern, she told me what was written on such seals: ‘Spare them all, Adonay, because they are yours. Your unfathomable spirit is in everyone, you who love life.’ The words remained on my tongue long after Thea fell into sleep beside me.