stood in the corners of the steamy pantry. If we were awake, we were on duty one way or another, and always under the watchful eyes of Gaade and Matron Jones. Nothing roused their fury more than stupidity. As a stewardess with absolutely no experience, I had more than my fair share of stupid mistakes on that first voyage: dropping teapots, constantly getting lost in the maze of halls, botching the errands I did remember. Iâll never forget the look on old Colonel Ripperâs face when I mixed up his laundry delivery with Lady Feathertonâs extra-large unmentionables. My eyes smiled even now as I recounted the incident to Steele.
âThere he was, standing in his dinner uniform in the middle of his cabin intent upon the large white flag he held in one hand. With the other, he scratched his bald head, confounded by what was, in fact, an enormous brassiere dangling on the tip of his cane. âGood Lord, Ellen,â heâd finally said, red-faced and wide-eyed, when it dawned on him what heâd retrieved from the laundry bag Iâd left him, the one that was clearly not his. âItâs like the billowing sail of a double-masted brig!ââ
Steele laughed.
âAnd whenever Meg and I saw Lady Feathertonâs great girth coming down the deck, Iâd only to lean in and whisper, âThar she blows!â to send poor Meg into a fit of giggles. Oh,Meg.â I shook my head and smiled, lost in the mist of a good memory. âI wouldnât have survived it all without her.â
The truth of my words echoed in the dining room, tolling through my fog like a shipâs bell. I survived because of Meg. That horrible night, sheâd given me her life vest. Insisted upon it. Her last great act of service to me.
A dry lump lodged in my throat as I took my hankie and dabbed my stinging eyes, uncomfortable under Steeleâs scrutiny. I swallowed and shifted in my seat. âIâm sorry.â
He nodded, but the apology was not for him. Not really.
âTake your time.â He scanned his questions. For a man who made a profit on words, he was surprisingly stingy. Had he any words of comfort, he kept them to himself.
Unready to continue, and unwilling to sit still, I stood and rang for Lily. Twice. Where was that girl? My throat was parched. I turned to stare out the window while I waited.
In all the weeks that Iâd been at Aunt Geraldineâs before we sailed, Iâd never truly appreciated all that Meg did. Or how well. To be honest, I hardly noticed her at all. My aunt had hired Meg the year before, I believe. Most of the time a cup of tea would appear on the end table before Iâd even realized I wanted it. Earl Grey, milk and two sugars. My bed was always turned down and warmed up no matter what hours I kept. My clothes neatly pressed. Meg was simply a part of the house, really. If I rang a bell, I knew Meg would run as surely as I knew water did when I turned the tap. âYou just have to get to know them, is all,â sheâd said, when Iâd returned to the second-class galley a third time because Lady Feathertonâs soup was too cold, then too hot, and eventually too late. âTheyâre people just the same as you and me, Miss Ellen.â
I had my doubts about Lady Featherton, but for the most part, the passengers were patient with me, and I improved over the winter as we crossed the Atlantic from Liverpool to New Brunswick and back each month. Six days at sea, serving passengers from dawn to dark; six days at dock to clear them out, clean her up, and board again; and six days back to Liverpool. With Megâs help, I learned how to serve hot soup, steep strong tea, and carry five plates at one time just as well as she could, though I never got the ten-shilling tips Meg did when the passengers docked. Many even offered to hire her for their personal staff. But she never even considered it. âI couldnât leave you, Miss Ellen. I made
Marion Chesney, M.C. Beaton