of
Jason Bolt
January
January 18, 1865
Two days out from New Bedford, and all are settling in. Our first few days have posed a challenge for all - for me, to control my temper, and for the brides, to adjust. Joshua and Jeremy arrived in the wheelhouse our first night out with word of mutiny, but it turned out to be but a small skirmish with some of the brides. This small band of complainers felt they were swindled - can you imagine? - just because they assumed something about the type of ship that would be carrying them! I must confess it gave me just a bit of delight to shame them into remembering that more sacrifices than this await them in Seattle. And I must say, they responded well to my instruction. The last two days have been spent in cleaning this ship from stem to stern, to the point that Clancey fears the ladies will wash away the dirt that holds this tub together. Tonight, we enjoyed a well-prepared meal in a clean kitchen. Ah, it's nice to have women around. They make the very best cooks.
January 22, 1865
A miserable day for nearly all, myself included. Rough seas encountered three days ago have caused an outbreak of seasickness among the brides. I confess I felt a touch myself for the first day, but men are naturally stronger, of course, and I set my mind against succumbing. The women, sadly, do not have this same resolve. A few have managed to avoid prolonged effects, but most refused to even try to overcome the malady. I tried telling them it was best if they could get out of their bunks and out onto the deck - at least there the fresh salt air might clear their heads. But they refused, prefering to remain below and wallow in their discomfort. The few who did manage to come on deck only did so to complain to me! As if I had control over the sea itself! In frustration, I finally had Joshua locate one of the women who claimed some knowledge of nursing, to see if something might be done to stop their complaining. It was an inspired idea, for apparently all these females really needed was to feel as if they were being attended to.
I also led a brief and poorly attended Sabbath service today, to appease those heartier god-fearing ladies who were determined to have their piety in spite of their dispepsia. It's something I must get accustomed to, I suppose, now that we are to have such a strong contingent of church-going ladies who'll be living among us. But church going hasn't been a strong tradition with the Bolts, and I've always found other ways to demonstrate my own faith. I suggested to Miss Pruitt, who seems to naturally assume the role of spokeswoman for the group, that perhaps the women would like to organize their own services in the future.
January 29, 1865
Tragedy today. A poor young man, one of Clancey's crew, fell overboard , and was lost to the sea. No one is quite certain why. All attempts to save the young man were to no avail. It was a stark lesson for all, but most particularly I think for the women. In one swift moment, the boy was gone from the deck. I could see the suddeness of this accident had a profound effect on many of the brides. Perhaps the harsh reality of this journey is starting to sink in, and they are coming to appreciate the sacrifices and risks they have assumed in chosing a life out west. As for me, it gives me no great pleasure to see the ladies robbed of any innocence, but I am accustomed to the price a frontier life may extract, and the suddeness with which it is sometimes paid. Far better they should start to realize the dangers now than to land in Seattle as naive as they left New Bedford.
February
February 4, 1865
Finally, the weather has cleared, and the ladies seemed to have adjusted to life on board ship - all signs of seasickness are gone. Yesterday was a particularly fine day. Most all the ladies spent the day on deck at one time or another. Clancey was fit to be tied when he saw them hanging their laundry from every ratline and rigging they could find, but I convinced him to indulge them. We have to remember that we must adapt, just as they must.I am encouraged by small changes in young Jeremy. His worries over his stuttering have kept him a virtual recluse for most of the trip. He feels no qualms about talking to Clancey's seamen, but let one of the ladies cast her fluttering eye upon him, and he scurries to our quarters or clings to my coat tails like an infant. It's difficult for me to see him struggle so, and even more so for Joshua, who has always been protective of him. Yesterday, teasing by one of Clancey's crew prompted a scuffle between Jeremy and the man, and Josh might have done the sailor some damage had I not seen them from the pilot house. I usually take the patient approach with Jeremy - it is Joshua who more often tries to goad him. But yesterday, I took Joshua's side when he complained that Jeremy was very good at speaking his mind with us. I told Jeremy to go find somebody else to talk to - a girl, preferably. Well, he did just that, much to our surprise. And of all people, that Miss Pruitt! I would have thought he might have chosen someone a little more soft-spoken, but I watched the two of them from a distance, and he seemed to be holding his own in the conversation. I doubt very much that Candy Pruitt is Jeremy's sort of girl, but at least it is a start.
February 6, 1865
Only three days from Rio, according to Clancey's navigator, a Russian named Dimitri, and I find myself in something of a panic. Rio de Janeiro is our first port-of-call, and it is my impresion that none of these ladies have been much further than a few hundred miles from home. As word started to spread among the girls about our impending arrival, they fell into a passion. Most of them seem of two camps. One group seems to consider the prospect of going ashore in a "heathen" place like Brazil the same as entering the gates of Hell itself. None of them have been to Rio, but they declare the place full of pagans, or (even worse to some) Catholics! But even more frightful, the second group looks upon our stay in Rio as a lovely lark - a chance for grand adventure. As if this were a Sunday social! I am now reminded that these ladies are as anxious for the company of men as our loggers in Seattle are for the company of females. We have not spent the better part of a year traveling, finding, and beguiling the finest flowers of New England, simply to turn them loose on the streets of Rio! Every last one of these girls will leave this place as proper as she arrived, if I have to tie each and every one of them inside their stalls to do it! I have but a few days to figure a way to handle these females during our stay. I count once more on a blessed combination of inspired rhetoric and divine intervention...February 11, 1865
Oh, what a hellish two days it has been! I'm only now recovering from the combined effects of conspiracies, quarrels, and rum. My mistake was listening to Clancey, the besotted scoundrel! He convinced me that the best way to keep the ladies from wanting to enter the city was to convince them it was dangerous to their health - a tale not far from fact, from what I now know of the place. This way, we would be able to spend time in the city without the encumberance of the ladies. I confess now to a selfish motive, beyond the obvious vested interests of the Bolts in keeping the ladies beyond reproach. The last several weeks of the trip have been a tremendous frustration for me. As the leader of this lace expedition, I understand fully my duty to keep a clear distance from the ladies. Joshua and Jeremy are somewhat freer to enjoy female companionship, but for my part, I think - no, I know - it best to remain aloof. But I am, after all, only a man. A man who, like those at whose request we have taken on this chore, has not enjoyed the company of a lovely woman for some time. Discounting the occasional indulgence in San Francisco or Clearwater, I have never in my life spent so much time constantly in the company of young women. Lovely, clean, sweet-smelling, clear-skinned, doe-eyed young lasses, all. Although I find much of their behavior trivial and nonsensical, still, they are intoxicating to be near. I feel like Prometheus, with a cluster of juicy, tantalizing grapes forever held just beyond my reach.So, leaving the ladies with a seeimingly plausible story about possible plagues, my brothers and I, along with Clancey, took shore leave last evening. Oh, what an evening - one about which I only wish I could remember more. One of Clancey's men directed us to a cantina near the market but the city is filled with such places, and the soft sweet music of guitars seemed to pour out of every door. We settled in with an ample supply of rum, and soon found ourselves in the company of some of the most beautiful women I have ever seen, as warm and exotic as this beautiful, tropical place. Sadly, much of the evening is clouded by the effects of the rum, and an equally intoxicating young woman named Maria. Joshua found another young woman whose name I don't recall, to keep himself entertained. Although we both left Jeremy on his own with Clancey for a period of time, I don't believe he showed an interest in any of the other young girls we met that evening. I suppose it's too soon to expect that much of a change in the boy.
I admit it took more than the usual amount of effort to leave my bunk this morning. I would have happily stayed all day had not that Miss Pruitt demanded to meet with me and my brothers. She's a formidable young woman, I'll give her that, but she has the most uncanny ability to pick the least opportune moment to complain. The brides (as even they have started referring to themselves), demanded that they be allowed to go ashore. I thought perhaps we might still be able to avoid the nuisance of such an excursion when one of the ladies actually argued in favor of staying on board. But we were hopelessly outvoted. So tomorrow, we are off to arrange something resembling a tour for the brides - a very much organized and chaperoned tour, to be certain.
February 17, 1865
Well, the ladies have at last had their grand tour of Rio de Janiero, and I must admit, it was a rousing success. Thanks to our gracious host, Captain Thomas Baldwin, we managed to keep the ladies busy, but still safe from harm. I know I told them of the plagues to frighten them, but the fact remains that such dangers were present in Rio - those and other dangers too horrible to mention to frail young virgins such as these. Thankfully, the brides are for the most part an obedient, compliant bunch, for they were content to remain with the group for each of our outings.Tomorrow we depart Rio, with four new souls on board the Shamus O'Flynn - the Reverend Simonton and family, missionaries bound for the city of Lota in Chile. Baldwin asked that we transport this family as a personal favor, and after all he did for us to accomodate the ladies, I hardly felt we could decline. And I assumed the ladies might be comforted by having a minister aboard. Clancey was fit to be tied, however, for it means he must give up that stale hold he calls his cabin. Still, with the rest of our "cargo", there was simply no other place for them.
February 21, 1865
Since leaving Rio, the voyage has become routine again, and as we approach the Straits, the weather is less favorable, leaving most of us spending more and more time below deck. Perhaps I can blame that on my recent mistake, or perhaps on the Simontons, for if they hadn't taken over Clancey's cabin, then the old reprobate wouldn't have been forced to bunk with us. And if he hadn't been spending so much time below with us, we wouldn't have started that poker game last night that turned into an all night binge. Clancey has more stories than any man I've ever met, and between the lying and the drinking, it was a night I might have well remembered forever. Sadly, too much whiskey and too many cigars turned it into a mere whisp of a memory, and gave me a hangover the likes of which I've not known for some time. Clancey never seems to suffer much from the effects of his carousing, except that he couldn't be roused the next morning, so I took his watch, for the throbbing in my brain kep me from sleep. Just as I had settled into a quiet spot in the wheelhouse with a warm cup of coffee, one of the brides, Miss Riley, joined me. Of all the ladies on board, I've had the most occasion to speak with her, and I must say, she strikes me as just the sort of woman we need in Seattle - bright, capable, eager, and with an uncommon degree of strength. Still, at first I winced at the sight of her, knowing how, in that state I was in, I must have appeared. However, we had a pleasant chat, and I managed to convince her to try her hand at the wheel. She was remarkably able! It must be because her father was a sea captain, for otherwise, I would never have thought a woman could take to such a job. Indeed, another of the ladies stopped by, Ms. St. James, looking for her young brother, and though she tried her hand with the ship, she was not nearly so adept. Before the afternoon was over, the wheel house had attracted quite a few people, including Miss Danforth, and finally, Jeremy. Jeremy had the youthful wisdom to refrain from indulging the evening before as I had, so he was in a fine enough mood. I tried to encourage him to talk to the ladies, which he did, but still, it is difficult for him. But he had no problem leaving me to dangle with Miss Riley's questions about Lottie's, and in fact, seemed to delight in my temporary ability to distract the ladies with words. It didn't occur to me that some of these ladies might have a problem with a saloon! Oh well, I know Lottie, and she'll have won them over before their dainty feet touch the dock in Seattle.February 27, 1865
I had given our temporary passengers, the Simontons, little thought since they boarded ten days ago. I presume it took them a few days to get their sea legs. Evidently, however, they have made their presence known. I didn't attend yesterday's service, but word has passed to me that some of the brides were offput by the nature of the Reverend's sermon. The ladies are a contradiction to me! They travel halfway round the world, and why? To be wives and mothers, by their own admissions. But let the good Reverend suggest that such is their duty, and hear the harpees cry! I suppose his tone might have been a bit heavy-handed - he strikes me as the fire and brimstone sort. And perhaps the distinction between desire and duty is more important to these ladies than I realize. Fate or free will? An eternal question...
March
March 2, 1865
We have finished our second day navigating the Straits of Magellan, and already, I have new-found respect for Clancey. He chose this route over a trip around Cape Horn, for he says that at these latitudes, changes in weather can be particularly dramatic, and while the Straits are a slower, more treacherous way, it was not, as he put it, "as apt to distress the darlin' girls." Despite his role as curmudgeon, he's grown fond of the brides, I can tell, and sees himself as much their protector as I. And since we entered the Straits, and the mastering of the ship through these rocks and shoals has become so difficult, I've not seen him take hand to bottle during the day. He's remarkably temperate these days - and he's a far better mariner than I gave him credit. I was beginning to fancy myself something of a seaman after handling the ship through calm open seas, but now I appreciate what a true captain is.March 5, 1865
I decided to attend today's service, for the grumblings about the Simontons have continued. And besides, I've come to have my own reasons to regret ever agreeing to take them along. Simonton's tried his lecture with me a few times, but I told him I wasn't interested in his views of me as a "traffiker of innocent women." I laughed, in fact, and told him that for the most part, I felt as though I was the one being trafficked by the brides, that these were no shrinking violets and he needn't worry about the ladies, for they could well take care of themselves. But then, last night there was a lovely little party on shore - just a scrap of beach near where we anchored, with a big bonfire, and some innocent music. But to Simonton, it must have seemed the very devil's dance, as he watched safely from the ship, clinging to his pious family. The problem was, not all his pious family was with him. His sneak of a son Tom had come along with us, promising his father's permission.But today's sermon was the straw that broke the camel's back. The Reverend was convinced that these "wanton women" - those same ladies who just days ago were "innocents" being "trafficked", had lured Tom ashore with their siren song, and he told me so as soon as we returned. I tried not to laugh at the old man - the truth is the ladies abhor this boy, who made himself obnoxious to them. Simonton determined to use today's service as an opportunity to further lecture the ladies on the wages of sin. The comparisons he made! To every wanton female in the Bible he could recall! I admit that I may have my doubts as to whether some of these ladies are the type of women we were hoping for, but to the last one, none of them could be considered beguilers. I happened to have a seat at the side where I could see some of their expressions as he made his poorly veiled accusations, and it infuriated me to see that some of these women actually were made to feel guilty! Others were simply too angry for words. Simonton is a bully, and needed to be shown as such. Well, perhaps there's a bit more to this hand of God business than I ever thought, for suddenly, a verse from Proverbs came to me, and I read it to the gathering. I'll never know what caused me to remember that particular passage, but I'm thankful I did, for it did seem to ease some of the girls' hurt feelings.
March 11, 1865
I must say I never appreciated how truly uneventful this voyage is until today, when we nearly became part of an international incident. I do wish some of our Argentine acquaintances had warned us about some embargo Spain has placed against Chile, the reasons for which I still do not understand, for Chile has been independent for nearly 50 years. But most of today's near calamity I place squarely on Clancey's shoulders - him and his stupid pride. We sailed in sight of a number of ships today - the waters off the coast of Chile are teeming with them. When a Spanish man-o-war tried to stop us, Clancey decided to make a run for the free port of Lota, and would have succeeded too, except he over shot his mark by a few miles and tried to land at the blockaded port of Coronel. We lost two of the brides to a dead faint when the man-o-war shot across the starboard quarter, and for once I can barely fault the ladies for their temerity. But when the Spaniards boarded to determine we weren't agents of the Chilean government, some of the women screamed in fear they might be carted off to a Spanish prison, while Biddie Cloom seemed positively delighted at the prospect.March 14, 1865
Things seem to have returned to some level of normalcy. How odd to think of this place as normal! A year ago, our lives were very much different, and thousands of miles away. And now our lives, and those of these women, will never be the same. I know what we have done is what we had to do, and I think that we've tried our best to do well by these women. But the truth is, there are no guarantees, not for any of us, and I worry that I may have done them some irreparable harm by seeming to promise things not within my power to promise. I can't permit myself these doubts, yet there are times when they overwhelm me. Perhaps I'm only a little homesick myself. At least I have the luxury of sailing towards my home. The brides are sailing away from theirs, perhaps never to return.March 21, 1865
Today we left the coast of Chile behind, and Clancey says it will be some days before we see land again. The Consul, Dr. Silver, threw a lovely little party for the ladies on shipboard last night, which was a fitting end to our visit. Dr. Silver was as gracious as Capt. Baldwin in Rio. Even his wife opened their home to us for a luncheon last week. Normally, I wouldn't choose a luncheon, but it seemed more relaxing than dragging the ladies through yet another native market, so I chose to go to the Silvers' home, and I was glad of it. Even though the chatter at the meal was a bit tedious, after the meal I found a path that led to the beach, and took a few quiet moments by myself while the others were off in the gardens and elsewhere.Or so I thought. A leisurely nap was interrupted by a young woman who apparently felt compelled to converse. After the constant companionship of females for these two months, my first instinct was to be polite and then make an excuse. But I confess, I was more than a little charmed by this young woman, and after an enjoyable afternoon in her company, engaged in the improbable chore of collecting seashells, I was surprised to find the dark mood that had plagued me for days was lifted.
