several small chunks of bread. “When I say ‘three,’ throw the bread as far as you can!” Marie-Grace reminded her. “One, two, THREE!”
Both girls tossed their bread to the birds. Squawking, the birds eagerly dived for the chunks. Annabelle giggled. “Let’s do that again!”
Mrs. Rumsford, with her baby in her arms, came out on deck as the gulls snapped up the last crumbs of bread. Mrs. Rumsford gave Marie-Grace a smile of thanks. Then she called, “Come, Annabelle. We’ll walk the baby out here for a bit.”
As Annabelle ran to join her mother, Marie-Grace looked out over the railing toward New Orleans. She could see the spires of St. Louis Cathedral, and even though she was excited about the trip, she felt a pang of sadness at leaving the city. She knew that in the weeks she would be away, she would miss her home, her dog Argos, and all her friends, especially Cécile.
An early spring breeze was blowing as Marie-Grace watched the crowds of people on the shore. Men in dark suits and ladies in bright dresses were hurrying along the levee, rushing to catch boats. Street vendors were crying out the goods they had for sale, and carriage drivers were calling to their horses. Laborers were shouting as they carried cargo to and from the boats. Newly arrived immigrants were clustered along the levee, too, many talking in foreign languages.
Above all the noise came the sound of an old man’s voice. He was standing by the Liberty’s gangplank, arguing with two crew members. A girl in a brown dress stood near the man, and behind her, porters carried two large trunks. I wonder what’s happening? Marie-Grace thought as the steamboat’s bell clanged again.
The elderly man called up to the captain in French-accented English. “May I have a word with you, sir?”
Captain Smith, a tall man with steel-gray hair and thick gray eyebrows, was smoking a pipe. He nodded to the two men at the gangplank, and the crew members stepped aside to allow the new arrivals aboard.
As Marie-Grace and the other passengers looked on curiously, the elderly man came puffing up the stairs from the main deck, followed by the girl and the porters. The man had white hair and a kind face. He introduced himself to Captain Smith as Monsieur LaPlante, owner of a small hotel on Canal Street.
Monsieur LaPlante gestured to the girl. “This young lady is Wilhelmina Newman. Her father was staying at my hotel but, very sadly, he died a few days ago. Now she must travel back to her grandmother in New Madrid, Missouri. Your steamboat will stop there, won’t it?”
“Yes,” Captain Smith said. He tapped his pipe on the railing. “Does she have a ticket for a stateroom?”
Monsieur LaPlante looked concerned. “Well, the child came to New Orleans as a deck passenger.” He gestured to the main deck below. “Could she not travel back on your deck? She has very little money, but she must get back to her home as soon as it can be arranged.”
“The deck is no place for a child traveling alone,” said the captain. “Besides, most of those passengers have just come from Europe and hardly speak English.” Captain Smith shook his head. “If the girl does not have family or friends with her, she’ll need a ticket for a stateroom.”
“Ah, what a shame!” said Monsieur LaPlante, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “She has no one to take her home. I was told that you were a charitable man and might help the child.”
Wilhelmina stepped out from behind Monsieur LaPlante. She was very thin, with red hair and pale skin. She looked tired, but she spoke out boldly. “My ma was German, and I speak a bit of German, too. I could manage all right on the deck.”
She said her mother was German, Marie-Grace realized. So both of her parents have passed away. Marie-Grace’s own mother had died several years ago, and her heart went out to the girl. What would it be like for Wilhelmina to travel all by herself? Marie-Grace wondered. Wilhelmina was wearing a faded brown calico dress with only a light shawl. Surely she’d be cold on deck. If only there was another place for her to sleep…
With a start, Marie-Grace remembered the extra bed in her tiny stateroom. For a moment, she hesitated. She was shy, and this girl didn’t seem very friendly. But how would I feel if I was in her place? Marie-Grace wondered. She decided to take a chance. “Wilhelmina can stay with me,” she offered quietly.
Captain Smith turned to Marie-Grace. “What did you say?”
Suddenly, everyone was looking at Marie-Grace. She felt her face blush bright red, but forced herself to speak louder this time. “Wilhelmina could share my stateroom,” she told the captain. “I wouldn’t mind at all.”
“What a good idea!” exclaimed one of the passengers. She was a plump woman in a cranberry-colored dress, and she looked at Wilhelmina pityingly. “The child would be much better off in a stateroom.”
“It would be an act of charity to take her back to her family,” added Sister Catherine, and Sister Frederica nodded in agreement.
Wilhelmina scowled at them. “I’m not a child,” she said, lifting her chin. “I turned eleven last month. And I don’t want charity—just passage home.”
She’s my age, thought Marie-Grace. It would be nice to have someone besides Annabelle to talk to. “It wouldn’t be charity. I’d like company,” Marie-Grace said quickly. “There’s an extra bed in my stateroom, too.”
Captain Smith tapped his pipe again. “We can find a place for your trunks down on the main deck,” he told Wilhelmina. “And if Miss Gardner is willing to share her stateroom, you can travel for free.”
Wilhelmina’s eyes widened. “I need to have both my trunks with me.”
“Her father left those trunks for her,” Monsieur LaPlante explained.
The captain frowned at the pair of trunks. One was old and caked with dirt. The other was smaller and had shiny brass fittings and a bright brass lock. “There isn’t room for both those trunks in the stateroom,” he said flatly. He pointed to the smaller one. “You can keep that one, and we’ll put the other one with the cargo. We’re leaving in a few minutes, so decide whether you want to stay here or come with us.”
Dr. Gardner looked at Wilhelmina with concern. “I urge you to accept Captain Smith’s offer,” he said.
“Indeed, it’s a generous offer, child. You could travel back in comfort,” Monsieur LaPlante said. “And if you don’t leave now, we’ll have to find someone else to take you back to your family.” The old man wiped his brow. “I don’t know how long that will take.”
“But I have to get home now!” Wilhelmina protested. She looked even paler than before, and she seemed unsteady on her feet.
“Are you feeling ill?” Marie-Grace asked, reaching out a hand to her.
“I’m fine,” declared Wilhelmina. She brushed Marie-Grace’s hand away. “I guess I’ll come with you, but…” She closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. “I, um…” Wilhelmina’s face turned a sickly shade of white. Then she collapsed in a heap onto the deck.
2
Gold Rush
Everyone gathered around the fallen girl. Sister Frederica cradled her in her arms, and Dr. Gardner checked her pulse. He turned to Marie-Grace. “Grace, please get my bag. It’s in my stateroom.”
“Yes, Papa,” said Marie-Grace. Her father always carried his medical supplies with him in a small black bag. Marie-Grace ran to her father’s room and grabbed the bag. She was rushing out the door again when she almost collided with a well-dressed young man wearing eyeglasses.
“Excuse me!” said Marie-Grace, hurrying on.
“Can I help you?” asked the young man.
“No—but thank you,” Marie-Grace replied.
As soon as Marie-Grace returned with the bag, Papa dug inside it and pulled out a bottle of smelling salts. He opened the bottle and waved it under