I’ll do ma own books, I dinnae trust anyone else. But I’ve done all this before, it just takes planning. And money, o’ course.’ Myrna scrutinised Tamar for a minute. ‘I suppose you’d no’ be interested in that sort o’ a career yeself? Ye’ve the looks, and your manner is certainly appealing.’
Tamar smiled and shook her head. ‘Thank you, no,’ she replied. ‘I don’t think that’s what my mam had in mind for me.’
‘No, probably not,’ said Myrna with a rueful laugh. ‘I do see the hard edge ye need for that line o’ work, though. But ye’re right, I think ye’re bound for better things. And as I said, it’s no’ an easy life. And besides, I’ve an idea yon wee doctor has taken a fancy to ye.’
‘John Adams? Me?’ said Tamar, genuinely surprised.
‘Aye, him that moons over ye every minute ye spend together. Have ye no’ noticed the way he’s always looking at ye and contriving to talk to ye when ye’re on deck?’
‘Well, yes. But I thought he just liked my company. I like his. In fact I’m quite fond of him and his different ideas, but that’s all. He’s … I don’t know … he’s just John.’
‘Oh dear,’ murmured Myrna. ‘Someone’s going to be disappointed. Ye could do a lot worse for yeself, lassie.’
‘Mam always said we’d know when we met the right man. She said we’d get this feeling, a sort of knowing , like she and my da had. She said there’s no mistaking it. I want to have that when I meet the man I’m going to marry.’
‘Aye, well, maybe your mam did have one o’ those marriages, and a lucky woman she was if she did. But Tamar, it doesnae always work out like that,’ Myrna replied gently. ‘Sometimes ye settle for what’s close enough. Ye’re only seventeen and I ken ye dinnae think so, but ye’re a naive wee thing. Och, no doubt that’ll get knocked out o’ ye in the next few years, New Zealand is still a rough colony, but dinnae pass up a good opportunity just because ye cannae settlefor something less than your dreams. Otherwise ye could well still be dreaming when ye’re auld and lonely and it’s too late. Dinnae let that happen, lassie. It’d be such a waste.’
Tamar was silent.
‘It’s just a word o’ advice. Look beyond what ye first see. And dinnae mistake lust for love — it’s no’ the same thing. Being lonely isnae a verra nice thing sometimes, especially for a woman. I ken that well.’
‘I know,’ Tamar responded sincerely. ‘But as you say yourself, I’m only seventeen.’
‘True. There’s plenty o’ time yet,’ replied Myrna, helping herself to two more biscuits.
C HAPTER T HREE
D ays later, when it seemed the temperature could get no hotter and the wind was a mere memory, a strong breeze swept across the ship and snatched away several hats, tossing them overboard to bob lazily on the slow swell. The crew cheered; after weeks with almost nothing to fill her sails, the Rebecca Jane had finally been picked up by the strong southeast trades.
She made up for lost time sailing down the western coast of Africa. The weather was more often fine and when it did rain, the ship’s tainted fresh water supply was replenished. There was delight in encountering sea life; luminous algae, dolphins and porpoises, whales and deep sea birds. Some passengers amused themselves by shooting at sharks and snaring albatrosses with a hook and line. The great sea birds were made into soup, although the sailors never touched it, believing the old superstition that albatrosses were the spirits of drowned sea captains. Small fish caught over the side also made a welcome change from preserved meat.
As the Rebecca Jane approached the Cape of Good Hope and turned east across the bottom of Africa, the weather became noticeably cooler. It was no longer pleasant to spend evenings on deck and as the ship neared the Roaring Forties, the harsh latitudes below the Cape, passengers were again largely confinedbelow decks. A little more