Dara Read online

  She calmed down somewhat on seeing that the intruder was a mere girl. Coughing and spluttering between sips of gin from the bottle she rose from the bed.

  Focusing her eyes on me in the dim light, she came right up to me and, looking into my face, mumbled, 'I don't know you. Who sent you?'

  Before I could answer, there was another question. 'How many months are you with child? It will cost you plenty, you know that.'

  Before she could go any further I burst out, 'I'm not wanting to get rid of a baby. The cook at the Crescent Hotel sent me. She said you would tell me how I could bed with a man and not get pregnant.'

  'So that's it, is it? Well, sit down on the bed.' She pulled up a wooden stool and sat facing me. 'You scratch my back and I'll scratch yours. You get my meaning?' she queried.

  I didn't and had no intention of scratching her filthy back or allowing her to put her dirty hands on mine.

  Seeing the puzzled look on my face, she gripped my knee, took another sip of gin, and whispered hoarsely, 'How much are you going to pay for the secret knowledge that all women would like to learn?'

  I opened my purse and offered her half a sovereign.

  Displaying three brown-stained teeth in what was meant to be a smile, she said, 'Make it a gold sovereign and I'll tell you all you want to know and show you how to do it.'

  I put the coin back in my purse and gave her a sovereign. Money was of no importance to me at the time as I had plenty of it. If she had asked for more I would have given it to her without any argument.

  She brought forth from a corner cupboard a piece of sponge about the size of a hen's egg, a small bottle of vinegar and a wooden clothes peg, pouring a small portion of the vinegar into a cup she then filled it nearly to the brim with water. Putting the sponge into the cup she held it down with a finger until it was well soaked with the liquid.

  'Alright, my dear, lie down on the bed and put your knees up.'

  Before I had time to cry out in protest she had stuffed the wet sponge right up my giny with the wooden clothes peg. Outraged and angry, I jumped off the bed with the diluted vinegar dripping down my legs and glared at her. 'What the hell do you think you are doing, taking liberties with my privates!'

  'Don't get yourself all worked up over nothing,' she replied. 'I had to show you how to do it. Now you know.'

  Her voice took on a more serious tone. 'Calm yourself, my dear. Sit down on the bed. I have more to tell you and a question I must put to you.'

  When I got settled on the bed she asked, 'When did you last have a show of blood?'

  'I've just had one,' I answered.

  She nodded her head. 'Then you will be alright. If you follow my instructions from now on you'll never have any worry about your monthlies; they will come along as regular as clockwork. But you must do it the way I say.'

  'I don't like mucking about with my privates like that,' I protested. 'It's alright a man poking his thing up there, but it doesn't seem right for anything else to be in my giny.'

  'Can you feel the sponge?' she asked.

  I shook my head.

  'That's alright then, you'll never know it's there nor will a man when he gets inside you. Take it with you wherever you go and you will never be caught napping.'

  She got on to her feet and brought me another sponge. 'Don't have a sponge in for more than a day. The vinegar loses its sharpness to kill off his seed so change about, day after day; that is why you are going to need two sponges. There you are,' she said, wrapping the sponge, the bottle of vinegar and the peg in a bit of old newspaper and handing it to me. 'That will be ten shillings.'

  I looked at the newspaper bundle in my hands. The whole lot couldn't have cost her more than sixpence, but I gave her half a sovereign as I wanted to get out of the place as soon as possible. Giving her the coin, I noticed her black-rimmed finger nails and made up my mind that as soon as I got back to the hotel my private parts would get a good wash. Looking back on those days, I'm very thankful the hotel cook and Ma Bustin took me in hand just in time. For there can be no doubt that with the way I was behaving, there would have been a baby in my belly before long. I've seen what happens to unmarried girls who have bastard babies. Their lives are not worth living and I was very fortunate to have escaped such a fate.

  As it happened I had my men without any dire consequences. One of the happy consequences of my association with these gentlemen was a considerable sum of money hidden in a leather pouch under my skirt and in a similar pouch my jewellery was tucked in safe and secure. With this small fortune under my skirts I was able to travel first class and well able to afford a shared cabin.

  After booking a berth in what was referred to as a 'second cabin' on Mr. Samuel Cunard's paddle steamer 'Britannia', all of one-thousand-one-hundred-and-fifty tons as the booking clerk kindly informed me, I made my way through Liverpool's docks, passing several masted sailing ships with their long bowsprits reaching out over the quayside.

  Leaning wearily against the chandlers' shops were groups of sailors, glassy-eyed and washed out after a night of debauchery in the city's taverns and brothels.

  The gangway was crowded with emigrants and their luggage. An officer standing under a huge red funnel which was belching heavy black smoke waved me below to the steerage quarters when I reached the deck but, when he caught sight of my booking ticket, was all smiles and servility and, with a bow, directed me to the poop and instructed a seaman to carry my leather bag to the intermediate cabins. We made our way across the deck which was cluttered with luggage, masts, spars, and rolls of sail cloth.

  As I entered the cabin and before the door was shut behind me a loud authoritative voice demanded, 'Who are you, that you presume to enter my cabin before knocking?'

  It was my fellow passenger with whom I was to share a cabin. She was a large, bulky woman and, by the look of her, weighed all of twenty stone.

  'My name is Dara Tully and I am to share a cabin with you for this voyage,' I answered.

  'Tully? Tully?' she repeated. 'I don't recall hearing that name amongst all the county families that I am acquainted with. Who are your family that they allow a girl of your age to travel alone without a chaperon? From your speech you are no gentlewoman and not a member of society.'

  She was obviously going to worm the truth out of me before very long so I thought it better to make my position clear right from the start.

  'My family are poor crofters and I have recently been in service in a hotel as a chamber maid. And I would be obliged if you will allow me time to unpack my luggage before you ask any more questions.'

  She huffed and puffed as the blood rose to her face when she got the unvarnished truth of my background. She was an aggressive, overbearing woman with heavy features, flabby pendulous lips and protruding fish eyes.

  'A common chamber maid sharing my cabin. Whatever next? I won't have it,' she shouted. 'I'll see the Captain at once.' And, before she slammed the door behind her, 'You can pack your clothes back into your bag. You are not sharing this cabin with me.'

  I unpacked my luggage and was sitting on my bunk contemplating what I could do next when the door burst open and in marched 'Her Ladyship' accompanied by the Captain of the ship, a short, well-built man with a jovial red face and a merry twinkle in his eye.

  He started off by saying, 'I understand, Miss, we are having a problem in this cabin.'

  Getting to my feet and offering my hand, which he shook gently in an absent-minded way, he took stock of me.

  He was about to say something else when I got in first. Speaking with that high-toned voice that I had heard the lady guests use at the hotel, I said, 'Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Miss Dara Tully and I'm very pleased to make your acquaintance, I'm sure.' I gave him a sweet smile as I looked directly into his eyes and, shaking him by the hand once more, said, 'How do you do?'

  He was taken aback by the society accent and answered, 'Very well, Miss.' Then searching his mind for something to say, 'I hope you find the cabin comf
ortable and to your satisfaction.'

  The twenty stone of fatty flesh of 'Her Ladyship' was trembling with indignation. Spluttering in her fury, she shrieked that I was 'nothing more than a common serving wench who had no respect for her betters', and then commanded the Captain to throw me out, bag and baggage, or she would report him to Mr. Samuel Cunard.

  The Captain smiled when he heard her threat. He straightened his shoulders and drew himself up. 'Mrs. Ponsonby, please do calm yourself. I am sure you are mistaken. There seems to be no reason for complaint. Indeed, I think you are most fortunate to have as a travelling companion on this voyage a charming young lady with such refined manners.'

  Before she had time to answer, he took me by the arm and steered me through the door saying, 'A word with you, Miss, before I get back to the bridge.'

  Closing the door of the cabin firmly behind him he continued, it doesn't bode well for you having to share a cabin with such a haughty lady. In time she may come off her high horse and condescend to be more considerate of your feelings. This ship is fully booked and there is not another bunk to spare anywhere, otherwise I would have you transferred to another cabin.'

  He smiled at me and, putting a fatherly hand on my shoulder, said, 'I know it's going to be very difficult for you, Miss Tully, but try to be patient with her. Take a promenade around the deck and when you get back to the cabin you may find her more agreeable and sociable.' Stepping back a pace, he gave a brief salute and hurried back to the bridge.

  I was met with stony silence when I got back to the cabin so, after a few minutes of being treated as if I didn't exist, I departed to explore the ship.

  My cabin was on the starboard side of the vessel and looking to the left I could see great confusion with officers shouting to seamen stepping over a swarm of luggage. Moving warily towards the aft deck I suddenly found myself overtaken by crowds of people rushing towards the steerage quarters below decks. Pushed about by the crowd, I was jockeyed willy-nilly down the steps with people carrying their luggage pressing hard up against me, intent only on getting below to secure the best bunks for the voyage.

  It was sheer bedlam in the steerage quarters and I was thankful that I had a cabin on deck even if I had to share it with an ogre. The whole place was in an uproar. Women screaming at their children, babies suckling at their mothers' breasts, others bawling their heads off. Men struggling with luggage trying to stow it beneath bunks, occasionally losing their tempers with the children and their women and clouting them across the head with a flat open hand.

  There were slatternly women already maudlin drunk, passing a half empty gin bottle to their friends who were droning through a song that was popular at that time in taverns and low dives.

  They never got past the first stanza:

  'Your husband gave to you a ring,

  Set around with jewels rare;

  You gave him a better thing-

  A ring set around with hair.

  Tra-la-tra-la-tra-la.' but they obviously didn't know the rest of the song because as soon as they finished their tra-las they started on the same words again.

  Curses and bad language rose harshly above the general noisy swell of the hubbub coming from the emigrants as they pushed hither and thither. There being little or no ventilation, it was suffocatingly hot with a mustiness adding its contribution to the odour from unwashed bodies and babies' puke. One or two men started to ogle me so I strove to regain the level of the higher decks before they could get their hands on me.

  I'd had enough of men with their lecherous advances and was sickened by my own shameful behaviour with them at the hotel. One of the main reasons for my decision to go to America was to cast off the past and begin a new life among people who knew nothing of my background.

  The 'Britannia' was just leaving the dockside when I got on deck. Within the hour we were in the Irish Sea and heading for the Atlantic Ocean.

  Come nightfall, with Mrs. Ponsonby and me undressing in stony silence as we prepared to bed down for the night, it seemed my head had hardly touched the pillow and I was off into a deep sleep. Sometime in the middle of the night the ship began to roll very hard and I was awakened by Mrs. Ponsonby moaning loudly in her bunk.

  Lighting a small oil lamp attached to one of the cabin walls, I was about to ask her if she was in pain when, with a face greyish green with nausea, she leaned over the side of her bunk and disgorged the contents of her stomach. I thought she would never stop.

  She spewed continuously for over five minutes until the floor of the cabin was covered in vomit. The stench was unbearable to my nostrils and the sour smell hung about me like a graveyard wraith. It was in my throat and choking me with nausea.

  Collecting shoes, clothes, warm overcoat and blanket, I got out of the cabin before I spewed up myself. It took but a few minutes to dress and put on my overcoat. Luckily there was no one about to see me in a state of undress.

  Tearing a small piece of material from the bottom of my petticoat, I wiped as much as possible of the vomit from my bare feet and put on my stockings and shoes, for my toes were becoming numb in the cold night air. Groping my way along the deck, I found a place near the rail sheltered from the wind and under a lifeboat hanging from its davit. I settled down on the deck with the blanket around my legs and the thick overcoat close to me to keep me warm.

  Despite the hard wooden deck under my back I must have dozed off because the next thing I remember was feeling a rough calloused hand Moving up between my thighs. The fingers of the hand squeezed the lips of my giny before I became wide awake to what was happening to me. Seething between fear and anger at this outrage, I slid my hand down the outside of my right leg and got a good grip on the handle of the dagger hidden in my stocking, brought it up quickly and prodded the sharp end at the arm between my thighs. Whoever it was let out an almighty yell which was followed by a stream of filthy language as he rocked back on his heels. I couldn't see his face but only the outline of his form, for there was only a ship's lantern behind him. By its dim light he could see my face but his remained in shadow.

  'You will pay dearly for that, you fucking steerage whore,' he threatened with a hoarse voice. I felt his hand groping for one of my feet. Sitting up suddenly I leaned forward with the dagger in my hand. He must have seen the blade for he moved just out of my reach.

  'You rotten stinking cunt, my arm is soaked in blood! I'll cut your bloody throat wide open if I get my hands on you.'

  My blood curdled; I was in a cold sweat and scared out of my wits. Swallowing down the fear that was beginning to grip my throat, I whispered in a menacingly gruff voice, 'Make one, just one, move towards me and I'll cut your ears off and stuff them into your filthy mouth.'

  He moved back a pace and stood up. He was about to walk away when he turned to me, his voice choked with anger.

  'I've got to stop this bleeding, otherwise I would deal with you now. But get this straight, I'll have my eye on you night and day from now on. You won't get away with it. A pox on your twat,' he grunted. 'I'll see to it that you and your dirty cunt go to a watery grave over the ship's rail before we reach New York.'

  The man was obviously insane with a dangerous quick temper and I feared for the days ahead. Waiting until I could no longer hear his footsteps, I picked up the blanket and made a dash for the steerage quarters and the safety of the company of the emigrants below decks.

  Stumbling down the steps, I emerged into the steerage quarters where there were only one or two small oil lamps to relieve the gloomy atmosphere. I peered fearfully into the dark shadows between the rows of bunks. God knows, I thought, who is lurking in there, ready to jump out at me.

  It came to me then that I would never know who it was that threatened me with a 'watery grave'. His face was never visible as it was always in the shadow, whereas what little light that came from the ship's lantern shone on my face. He would, throughout the voyage, be able to recognize me. There was no doubt in my mind from the way he uttered his threat that he meant
every word of it and in the days to come would be stalking me and waiting for the opportunity to push me over the ship's rail. It could be any one of the seamen or any of the male passengers on the boat. Shuddering at the thought of being suddenly tipped overboard without warning I resolved I would move about with great care, always on the alert, looking for any man taking too much interest in me, or with an injured arm.

  Impatiently waiting for the dawn, I spent the rest of the night wide awake sitting under one of the oil lamps with my hand resting on the hand of the dagger in my stocking. Escaping from the fetid air of the steerage and emerging into the bright daylight made me blink my eyes until they became accustomed to the change of light. Leaning against the ship's rail and looking at me with some amusement was a tall open-faced clergyman of middle years.

  Because of my fears and the need of a trustworthy man I ran to him exclaiming, 'I'm in great danger. Will you please help me?'

  His face immediately became serious and showed concern.

  'Of course. What can I do to help you?'

  Offering my hand I said, 'My name is Miss Dara Tully.'

  'And I am,' he answered, 'the Reverend Robert Blake of the Presbyterian Church. You appear to be in some distress. Now tell me what can I do to relieve your anxiety?'

  Leaning against the rail with us both looking out to sea, I told him of the night's events. As I related what had happened his face became more and more serious. He was silent for some time after I had finished speaking, and continued to look out to sea with a very stern expression on his face.