Terra Mechanica: A Steampunk Anthology (20 page)

Before the man could say another word, she turned and led the boys away, with the first-class passengers staring after her. She finally breathed a sigh of relief when they made their way through the doors. She turned and knelt down in front of the boys.

“Are both of you alright?” she asked, lifting the hair from their brows.

“Henry! Joseph!” a woman's voiced called out from behind her. “What have you two done now?”

Concern etched in the woman’s worried brow as she rushed over. She was dressed plainly in worn yet well-cared-for clothing. Ada smiled. “Are you their mother?”

“Yes. My name is Agnes. I'm so sorry if they have caused you any trouble. They keep disappearing on me. I tell them to stay off the top deck, but they don't listen.”

“They're just boys being boys. No harm done.”

“Ma, I'm hungry!” the boy with freckles cried.

“I know, I've got some dried meats and a bit of oatmeal.”

“Again?” the other boy said, looking sad.

Agnes looked embarrassed. “We have to ration, boys. I'm sorry, but it will help fill your bellies.”

Ada ran her thumb over the wallet of the gentleman she had pilfered from.  She noticed several bills inside when she opened it. Most of the passengers had come prepared for a long journey. She smiled as she thought of how annoyed the man would be when he realized he had
misplaced
his wallet somewhere. It served him right.

“Would you permit me to treat your boys?” she asked, resting her free hand on the struck boy’s shoulder.

“Oh no, miss. I couldn’t! It would be wrong and too much trouble for you.”

She smiled. “It's no trouble at all. The gentleman who found them on the deck assured me that it was his treat.”

“If you’re sure . . . We don't need no charity.”

“No, I assure you it isn't that. He just wanted the boys to have a good meal, since they were refused on deck and I don't want to eat alone.”

“Then we'll gladly accept,” the mother said.

“Good.”

It did not take her long to track down a deckhand, who fetched them the food for a bit extra. He brought them a serving of bacon, fresh fruits, a pot of coffee, and a healthy slab of fat for both boys.

The two ladies enjoyed their meal as the boys laughed and poked one another. For a time, she didn't feel as alone. It was more than worth the depletion of the morning pickings.

“Is your man with you?”Ada finally asked.

Agnes nodded. “He works in the boiler room.”

It was a common story in those days. If a family couldn't afford the tickets to travel, any able-bodied member was to work during the trip to pay for their stay. It allowed poorer families to travel while providing extra bodies for the ship. Even so, it was a hard life in the fiery depths of the boiler room. Most who worked inside rarely got to see the sky for the duration of the trip. Some couldn't handle the heat. Others coped, but only barely. None had a choice.

“What of you, m'lady?”

Ada smiled wryly. “I'm no more a lady than you. In these times, all we can do is survive.”

The older woman eyed her for a time and before slowly nodding. “I hear you. Times are difficult for all. We can only hope that the future will be better.”

“Better times in better lands.”

“To America. May it be better for us all.”

After they had polished off the last of the morning meal, Ada said her farewells to the family. Though she yearned for someone to talk to, where she didn't have to hide who she was, her heart couldn't take listening to the boys for much longer. The memories were too painful.

The remainder of her trip across the ocean was quiet and uneventful. She spent her time playing cards and studying maps of the New World. With the money she had been able to save, she knew she could buy some land through an intermediary in New York, get what she needed, and move out there. The land and the sea had fed her family once, and that was all she would need.

Finally, after a long journey and many weeks at sea, land was sighted. She and many other passengers scanned the morning horizon as the Statue of Liberty, the gallant lady holding a gear in one hand and steam valve in the other, welcomed all who believed in a cleaner, freer way of life. It was the promise of a future they all yearned for, one they desperately hoped would come to pass.

When the massive ship docked, First Class was separated and allowed off first. For those who had money, admittance could be bought, enabling them to bypass the immigration checks and waiting period. For others, especially those who had to work for the voyage, it was a far longer and more unpleasant stay. Ada did not wish to use what money she had to expedite her stay. She was a survivor. She could wait the time and deal with the harsh conditions that gossip told her awaited. After all, she had endured worse. Hopefully, once she set forth, she could leave all of that behind her.

She waited hours in a long immigration line until a chubby man with a dirty uniform handed her papers that seemed too fragile and all too precious. “Now, you make sure you don't lose these,” he warned her. “If you do, you are stuck going through the waiting period again. Don't want that to happen to a pretty girl like you.” He winked at her. Ada's first desire was to gag, but she smiled and found a spot in line.

That night, she kept a small blade within the confines of her bodice. She knew what kind of going-ons happened in places like these, especially to a woman who was traveling alone. She heard the occasional cry of a victim, drunken brawls, and fits of frustration by people who were disgruntled at how they were being treated. For the true poor, though, they, like Ada, were used to such and far worse. They knew better than to complain.

She was not surprised when one drunken man who decided to spit at the immigration officers was hauled away. She had no idea what they did to him, but she never saw him again.

At the end of the week, it was her time to go. She presented her papers to a young man in a uniform who seemed to care more about his appearance than her first encounter.

“Is there anything you wish to declare, miss?” he asked her.

“Only that I can't remember the last time I slept in such luxurious surroundings.” She smiled at him wryly. 

He had the good grace to blush. “I'm sorry about that, miss. We do the best we can but there are so many who come through here, we just don't have enough beds.”

She reached over and patted his hand. “Believe me, I've had far worse.”

He smiled at her. “I hope you come to find this new land to be a better place than this island.”

“Please! I just need to get a doctor for my boy!” a voice called out from behind her. “Please let me through!”

She took her papers from the young man and turned. A middle-aged man with a tired, dirty-looking face was being restrained by two immigration officers.

“Now sir, if your boy is ill, we can't let you through! He has to stay for the full quarantine period.”

“But you don't have a doctor!” the man protested.

Ada almost turned to leave, but then she saw Agnes holding a wrapped form in her arms with one of the brothers clinging to her skirt, whimpering. Ada looked closer and could see that the form was the boy in question. His face looked ashen and damp.

“Sir, we told you that we already had a surgeon look at him and—”

“That man was drunk! He tried to cut my son's arm off when he is only ill with a fever.” The father looked angry and afraid.

“If it's just a fever like you say, he'll be fine in a few days.”

“No! We've already been waiting three days with him sick. This morning he wouldn't even open his eyes. It's too cold and damp here. I've got to get him to a doctor!”

The officers continued to restrain him. “Sir, there is nothing we can do. You'll have to wait.”

The man looked helplessly on. His eyes met Ada's for a brief moment before he looked away, desperate for a miracle to save his son. Ada turned to go, but at that moment she thought of her brother. She had held him in her arms as he died as people walked around them, ignoring her pleas for help. How she had wished someone, anyone would stop. But no one did.

“Excuse me,” she said, walking over to the officers who turned at her voice. “Is there nothing that could be done?”

The officers glanced her over, wary of her finer clothing. “Unless he can pay an expediency fee, he has to wait like the others. We can't let some plague run loose.”

“What would it take to get them through?”

“Twenty dollars for the family,” one officer said gruffly.

She stared at him. That was a small fortune and far more than the cost of traveling in the ship. “How could they have that much in American dollars if they haven't set foot on US soil!”

“We can take the equivalent in gold,” the other officer said.

Ada bit her lip. “I'm sure . . .” She turned to Agnes. “How is he?”

Agnes shook her head, tears dripping down her cheeks. “If he doesn't get any medicine soon, I don't think he'll last the night.” Ada looked back at the officers. The eyes of one of the officers were cold, dead to sympathy. But the other looked uncomfortable and pained.
He's the one
.

She hesitated, wondering again if she should simply turn and walk away. She was about to, even if it did damn her soul. This had nothing to do with her. It was just life. Cold, cruel, but life. That's the same mindset of the people who had walked by her brother when they were kids.

But she put her hand into her pocket and withdrew the watch. She glanced at it before she held it out to the guard with the eyes that still showed some sliver of humanity. “Will this do? I know it's not a gold coin, but it's made out of gold and it works. It's worth at least what you are asking.”

The guard with the cold eyes scoffed. “If it's not a gold coin, it's worthless. Just a piece of immigrant trash.”

But Ada paid him no heed. She met her eyes with those of the other guard. She held his gaze, imploring him. “Please. Just look the other way and let them go.”

The guard glanced at her and then the watch before looking over at the family. “I can't just let them go.”

“He'll die. And unlike your friend I don't think you want that on your conscience.”

Still, he hesitated, and started to look away from her to the other guard for direction.

She knew she had to get him now or it would be too late. “Someone didn't care enough to help my brother,” she continued. “He died in my arms because no one cared enough to keep us warm. Everyone kept looking the other way. Don't make that little boy grow up without his brother.”

It was the truth. Ada and her younger brother had been in a similar situation when they were children. Winters in London were the worst. Ada and her brother used to peer through windows and imagine themselves next to the warm fires, laughing with families or working alongside bakers or butchers. Anything to drive away the cold. But the daydreams ended when a shop owner or constable would chase them away, back to the dark where not even their imaginations could protect them.

That was always the heart of the matter. The people who should have been protecting them had long disappeared. All that remained were empty stomachs and small, frozen hands clinging to each other for warm. They had promised each other that one day they would have their own fire.

Then Robert fell ill. If no one had helped them before, she knew no one would help a sick child. Still she tried. She begged, she sobbed, even considered selling herself to help him. But he died in her arms, going to sleep shivering one last time while she watched, her tears frozen to her face.

When she couldn't wake him, she ran to the first constable she could find. But by the time she had convinced someone to listen and return with her, his body was already gone. For a moment, she had foolishly hoped his body being gone meant he was alive and searching for her, but a world filled with the cold of winter, in season and heart, had taught her better. Not even the dead were safe.

It took her years to change her life and many difficult choices. She had given up far more than her pride to survive. There had been no one to rely on but herself. Now she was here, half a world away, seeing history repeat itself.

There was no way in hell she’d let it.

His gaze met hers, searching to see if she was lying. But there was no lie. She had lost him. Failed him. She would not fail this family. Slowly, he took the watch from her and nodded. “All right, they can go.”

“Here now!” the other guard exclaimed, but the younger guard held up his hand.

“Let them go, Liam. We both know that boy won't make it through the night if we don't. I don't want to live with that. We've watched enough good folks die here. Just let them go.”

The other guard glared at Ada but sighed and finally relented. “They won't get past the guard tower without stamped papers. They'll have to go through the tear in the fence.”

The younger guard nodded. “Thanks, Liam. I'll take them there. “

Liam grunted. “You get caught and it's your neck in the noose, boy.” Then he turned and walked away, shaking his head.

“Get your things, but travel light. Blend in with another group as soon as you are passed the fence. They don't bother to check the papers before you get on the boat for the mainland.”