Ashes (14 page)

My days started before dawn. First the dirty water from the day before had to be hauled out of the kettles, bucket by bucket, and dumped outside, though not too close to the laundry or the tavern, or in the yard between the two, else we'd be tracking mud all day and increasing the chances that a stray shift or pair of breeches would fall to the mud and need washing all over again. Then came the refilling of the kettles with water pulled up, bucket by bucket, from the well. After the clean water had been poured into the kettles, I again built fires under them. Proper laundering required boiling-hot water and lots of it.

Kate and Elspeth always arrived late and yawning. They rarely spoke to me direct, but from their confabs I learned they were both indentured servants; Kate from Scotland, Elspeth from Ireland, and they had three years of labor left to pay off their voyage to America. They reveled in gossip and rumor and thought themselves superior to me. 'Twas tempting to tell them what I thought of them, but our situation was too unsettled. My best course was to work hard and pretend that they did not exist. I contented myself with dreaming of the days to come, when I'd be mistress of my own house, my own farm, on land I owned in Rhode Island, whilst they'd still be toiling for others, likely with a passel of lemon-faced brats holding on to their skirts.

The work of the washing took ages to complete. White shirts and underdrawers, stockings, neckerchiefs, and handkerchiefs needed to be sorted and washed separate from those that were dyed blue, brown, green, or red. To loosen the dirt, the clothes were first boiled in the massive copper kettle. Then they were scrubbed with lye soap made from ashes and pig's fat. Sometimes this was done with a brush, other times against an old scrubbing board that liked to take the skin off a girl's knuckles. Stains–and near everything had them–were treated with lye or pipe clay and then soaked in soapy water. To lighten the marks of sweat, ink, and muck found on shirts and underdrawers, we'd use scalding-hot milk, vinegar, or fresh piss. After another good boil with soap the clothes would be rinsed and rinsed and rinsed again in cold water, twisted hard to remove as much water as possible, then hung on the lines in the yard.

White clothes were dried in the sun, dark clothes were dried in the shade to preserve the color. We spread them on hedges and hung them on tree branches and on the ropes that crisscrossed the courtyard between the laundry building and the back of the tavern. When heavy with shirts, shifts, and, breeches, the yard seemed a massive ship with sails made of billowing laundry ready to pull us all across the sea to unknown lands.

Once everything was dry, we'd check the hems and seams to make sure all the lice had been drowned. Elspeth did most of the mending, and Kate's specialty was ironing. Though I could have done both of their specialties, Widow Hallahan made sure that the chopping of firewood fell to me.

The fair weather of our first days in Williamsburg turned foul just as we lay down to sleep on Thursday night. We'd already brought in the dry clothes from the lines, thank heavens, and we slipped into sleep to the playful tune of rain on the roof tiles.

Hours later we were jolted awake by the heaviest clap of thunder I'd ever heard. Ruth awoke with a shriek. Thomas Boon gave a mighty bray outside, echoing the nervous whinnies of the horses stabled nearby. I heard a bit of shouting in the street and went to the door to see if a house had caught on fire or, worse still, if the sound had actually been British cannons firing on the town. A lad running in the rain assured me that thunder was the only cause of the unholy racket. Another mighty rumble and blast of wind sent him dashing away.

I closed the door against the driving rain and sopped up the puddles by the threshold. Ruth had already burrowed back under her blanket and was snoring softly. The wind howled and rattled the windowpanes. There would be no more sleep for me, that much was clear.

I spent the rest of the night emptying the cool dirty water and refilling the kettles, then tending the fires, so that the water was near boiling by the time Kate and Elspeth arrived the next morning. They had to start work right away instead of indulging in gossip for an hour, and it made them even more peevish than usual.

Their glum faces cheered me.

Widow Hallahan didn't arrive until Ruth and Aberdeen left to deliver clean shirts to the officers of the Virginia regiment. She bustled in faster than I'd ever seen her move.

“Pray tell me, lass,” she inquired of me breathlessly, “are you accustomed to kitchen work? Assisting a cook and the like, keeping up with a mighty tide of dirty pots? These sluggards”–she pointed at the scowling girls–“are barely skilled enough for the laundry. Don't dare trust them to work in the mister's tavern.”

I thought quickly. I'd learn more from tavern talk than the idle gossip in the laundry, though I would be more visible to anyone seeking me out.

Widow Hallahan's cheeks were flushed crimson and her hands were shaking. “Well? Can you do the work?”

“Indeed, ma'am, yes, I can.”

“Hie yourself to the tavern, then. General Washington arrives today!”

O
UR FORCE IS DAILY GROWING
S
TRONGER, AND
I
FLATTER MYSELF WE SHALL VERY SOON CIRCUMSCRIBE
C
ORNWALLIS WITHIN NARROWER LIMITS THAN HE HAS LATELY BEEN ACCUSTOMED TO.

–L
ETTER OF
V
IRGINIA GOVERNOR
T
HOMAS
N
ELSON
J
R. ABOUT THE TROOPS GATHERING AT
W
ILLIAMSBURG

M
ISS MARROW, A PALE WOMAN
of middle years with a nose that had been broken more than once, looked me up and down, handed me a scrub brush, and pointed to the collection of dirty pots. “More's a'coming. Make haste.”

The tavern had been hired to supply an officers' dinner to celebrate the arrival of General Washington and the rest of the Continental and the French armies. In the interest of profit Mister Hallahan decided that the tavern should also serve customers as it did every day, so Miss Marrow was burdened with her daily tasks in addition to preparing the feast. She did not stop moving, flying from table to hearth to larder to smokehouse to cellar and then back again. Her commands to me were sharp and short: “Peel them taters. Shuck them oysters. Wash out that pie plate. Knead that dough. Pluck them pigeons. Slice the ham thin.”

Shucking oysters gave my belly an unexpected turn. The innards of an oyster look like a massive snot sneezed out of an ogre's nose. But there was no time to indulge in queasiness. When the oysters were shucked, I had to beat dozens of eggs for the cakes.

The smells of cinnamon, rising bread, and roasting meats were a vast improvement over the stench of dirty breeches and lye that hung in the laundry. The speed of the work was much faster, but 'twas a welcome relief to be away from the sharp-tongued nattering of Kate and Elspeth. Miss Marrow gave me leave to eat all of the ham and brown bread, and drink all of the cider, that I wanted, long as I kept working whilst I ate. Thus properly victualed for the first time in months, I felt strong enough to cook for the entire army.

By midday the front room was crowded with gentlemen and officers shouting in excitement and demanding meat pies and ale. Miss Marrow gave me a clean apron to pin atop my skirt and thrust a heavy serving tray into my hands.

“The mister will show you who gets what. Don't say nothing to nobody, and hurry back.”

The rest of the afternoon I fair ran between the front room and the kitchen, serving the gentlemen, clearing away their dirty plates and mugs, and taking care of the washing up, while Miss Marrow continued to cook up the parade of dishes that would be served at the officers' feast. The men were so excitable about the prospect of battling the British in the days ahead that they paid me no mind, long as the food and drink kept coming. To my frustration, all the talk was about the newly arrived troops, mostly arguments about how many soldiers were there. For all the shouting and huzzahing, no one said anything that helped me understand better if Williamsburg was a safe place for us, or if we should flee as soon as darkness fell.

Late in the day the front room emptied as the gentlemen hastened to the encampment to be a part of the ceremonies honoring His Excellency George Washington. Miss Marrow and I both jumped out of our shoes at the monstrous sound of twenty-one cannon blasts. Mister Hallahan hurried in to tell us 'twas just a salute for the great general and his French friends, not an attack by the redcoats. Shortly after that, a fine wagon pulled up to the front door. We packed the food into crates and boxes, which were carried out to the wagon by handsome French soldiers. Several crates of wine were also loaded into the wagon.

After it drove away, Miss Marrow filled a plate with two slices of peach pie and set it on the kitchen table in front of me, saying simply, “You done good work. Thank you.”

She ate in the front room with only Mister Hallahan for company. In truth, I felt bad on her account. First time all day she'd been able to sit herself down and take a bit of ease, and she had to listen to the pompous twit boast about the money and good fortune the war had brought to his establishment. Seemed to me he was sweet on her, though he had a wife at home busy with five children, according to Kate and Elspeth. I peeked through the door and saw Miss Marrow hastily eating her well-deserved meal, whilst the mister held forth about how he much preferred to work for the French, as they paid in coin where the Patriots paid mostly in promises. The poor woman was so bedraggled, she could scarce keep her eyes open, much less pretend to be interested in what he was saying.

I knocked and entered the front room.

“Pardon, miss,” I said. “But I've finished with the washing up. Is there anything more you'd like me to do?”

Before Miss Marrow could answer, Mister Hallahan turned and looked me over. I gave a shudder, feeling as if a goose had walked across my grave.

“Who did my mother hire you from, girl?” he asked.

“She hired me on my own account, sir,” I said, chiding myself for not waiting until he'd gone. “I'm freeborn, sir.”

“She has papers, the missus told me,” Miss Marrow added.

Hallahan sipped his mug. “She helped you in the kitchen, as well as serving out here?”

“Couldn't have done it without her,” Miss Marrow said. “Go on back to the laundry, Isabel. And thank you again.”

  *  *  *  

I found Widow Hallahan snoozing by the fire, a basket of buttons and a shirt in her lap, and no sign of Kate or Elspeth anywhere. I cleared my throat loudly. The old woman blinked the sleep from her eyes and sucked at her teeth.

“Done already?” she asked, as if I'd been gone a few moments instead of the entire day.

“Yes, ma'am,” I said. “The French fellows came for it all in a big wagon. Mister Hallahan seems most pleased.” I looked around the laundry. The fires under the washing kettles had gone out, but the ashes and cinders had not been removed. “Where are Kate and Elspeth?”

“Ugh.” She shook her head. “Making cow eyes at the soldier boys, of course. Why are lasses so bedazzled by a uniform, can you tell me that? More Frenchies, I hear, in addition to our boys. You know what that means, don't you? More white uniforms to clean. Why do the Frenchies stick their lads in white uniforms? Do they not know that the business of war is filled with mud, blood, and dung?”

She stood and put her hand to her back. “Least our boys wear sensible togs, them that has uniforms. We can take some pride in that, we can.” She yawned. “Your sister went off too.”

“Beg pardon?” Fear stabbed at me. “Ruth isn't out delivering with Aberdeen?”

“Nay, the boy brought her back early. Said the whole camp's a hullabaloo what with all the new folks a'coming and a'going, and His Excellency parading about, and redcoats hiding behind every bush–”

“Ruth left,” I interrupted her. “You let her wander off on her own?”

“Work for the day was done, not my place to tell the girl to stay or to go.” She studied me hard. “Some reason you don't want her out there? Somebody looking for her, mayhaps?”

I grabbed my hat and scarf from the peg by the door and dashed outside without answering.