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January 16, 1865
I am overcome...appalled. No, there are no words to describe my deep mortification at this moment. We had not been aboard this vessel for even an hour when we discovered that it is...oh, I can barely write the words...a mule boat! Our accommodations? Stalls. Stalls! When challenged, Mr. Jason Bolt confirmed that we are indeed expected to sleep on piles of hay like livestock.
Miss Candy Pruitt (whom I know somewhat, having served with her on various church committees) has just now gone upstairs-I believe they call it "topside"-with some of the other girls in the hopes of convincing Mr. Bolt to turn the ship around and take us home. They seem quite determined. I could not bring myself to accompany them...I am feeling quite faint from this great shock to my system. It is enough to make me take to my bed-if only I had one!
January 18, 1865
Not only did Candy Pruitt fail in her mission to get Mr. Bolt to turn the ship around, but he has somehow managed to convince those ladies who took part in that attempt that the women are somehow in the wrong in all of this. As I write this, Miss Pruitt is assigning each of us to a group for the purpose of cleaning the ship and preparing a meal for everyone on board. Well, I did not take part in the "mutiny" and I shall not be taking part in this, I am sure!
January 20, 1865
I am ill. I have never been this ill. I think that I am dying.
January 29, 1865
I was feeling well enough today to attend religious services, led by Miss Pruitt. I found her sermon to be acceptable, if not inspiring. I would have much preferred a man to have delivered the sermon today as I feel that is more appropriate. I have been told that Mr. Jason Bolt performed this task on Sunday last but I was, of course, too ill to leave my bed and attend.
February 3, 1865
I do not understand this penchant that Candy Pruitt has for being in charge. First, leading a mutiny of sorts. Next, demanding that each of us be responsible for a given task for the remainder of the voyage! No sooner had I arisen from my near-deathbed when Miss Pruitt informed me in no uncertain terms that I had been assigned the task of hanging the laundry out to dry. With so many of us on board, this task will be required nearly every day and entails great physical hardship to the persons performing it. When I advised Miss Pruitt that the job would be inappropriate for someone of my breeding, she offered me a choice between the laundry or emptying chamberpots! I do not remember this young woman being quite so disagreeable when I knew her in New Bedford...perhaps it is the movement of the ship which has affected her.
As it happens, Miss Pruitt has assigned herself laundry tasks as well and I joined her on deck this morning with the intent of assisting as well as I was able. She requested that I hold the heavy basket of damp clothes while she hung them out to dry on the ropes which hold the ship's sails in place. I agreed because I wanted to avoid any further confrontations. Unfortunately, I found that I am still not fully recovered from my illness and after just a few minutes, I was unable to continue with my assigned duties and I told her so before going below deck to rest from my exertions. I learned later that she somehow managed to press Mr. Jeremy Bolt into service in my place. Is no one safe from this young woman's manipulation?
February 7, 1865
Although the weather has been greatly improved, the company on the ship has been quite dull. I find that I am able to talk a bit with Lavinia but I have little in common with the majority of the women who are my fellow passengers. Their level of breeding and sophistication is so far beneath my own that I fear most of them will be quite disappointed in their attempts to find husbands. Why, many of them cannot even fix their hair in a stylish manner! Today, I came upon a small group of the girls as they were attempting a french twist with the hair of someone named Frannie. After watching their bumbling attempts for some time, I felt I really must step in and show them what to do... and so I did. I admit to some degree of surprise when several of them smiled at me and expressed thanks for my intervention. After all, it was only a simple french twist which I could do in my sleep! Still, in my heart of hearts I must allow that their thank you's were somewhat gratifying.
February 14, 1865
Finally, I have cause to appreciate Miss Pruitt's lack of restraint when it comes to dealing with Mr. Jason Bolt. As a result of her interventions, the brides (as we have come to be called) were allowed to leave the ship today on a chaperoned tour of the city. I did not at first think that I cared to go, until I discovered that we would have a chance to see an actual royal palace! I was quite unprepared for the plainness of the building itself and wondered if perhaps Mr. Bolt was not playing a trick on us when he pointed it out. But the, what good fortune! The unattractiveness of the palace was forgotten when the Emperor himself (I shall have to ask someone of which country he is emperor) was driven by us in his carriage. I was fortunate to be in the front of our own conveyance and I was even so bold as to wave my handkerchief at him and his party as a greeting. Finally I have something of note to put in my journal and to write of to Mother and Grandmother.
February 15, 1865
Miss Biddie Cloom, a good friend to Candy Pruitt, came to me early this morning before I had completed my own preparations for our return to the city this day. It seems she had heard from one of the other girls that I might be able to assist her in styling her hair in a more becoming manner. Although I believe Miss Cloom would do well to take my advice on a good many more beauty matters, I agreed to assist her and she was most grateful. In fact, her thanks were so constant and effusive that I feared that I might become ill with the headache. It did not happen, however, and I must admit that my ministrations made a vast improvement in her appearance today.
February 18, 1865
We are off again. I fear that after the excitement of our excursions into the city of Rio de Janeiro, I will find life at sea very dull indeed. Many of the women are forming friendships on board but it will be difficult for me to do this, for obvious reasons.
I overheard a conversation between two of the brides today regarding Miss Pruitt and Mr. Jeremy Bolt. I had not realized that there seemed to be some interest shown on his part toward Candy...I had assumed that the times I had seen them talking together had been instigated by her solely for the purpose of influencing the Bolt brothers in one endeavor or the other. Even Candy must find Jason Bolt rather formidable, as I do, and his brother would seem to provide an easier path to that gentleman. Miss Cloom and Miss Taylor, though, would have it that there is an attachment forming between them. I shall have to observe more closely. I suppose it is not outside the realm of possibility that Candy has some affection for the young man-his
appearance is not unpleasant, though his manner is quite shy. On the other hand, he does own one-third of a mountain which, I am told, is worth quite a bit of money. Miss Pruitt is nothing if not practical.
March 5, 1865
Reverend Simonton, that dreadful little man, officiated at Sunday services today. He has apparently decided that we women have somehow managed to lead astray his rascal of a son, Tom. His diatribe against all women was most upsetting and he managed to make me feel somewhat guilty even though I'm sure I had nothing to do with encouraging that pimply-faced boy to go ashore yesterday. Well, someone should tell this gentleman exactly what his son is up to when his father is not keeping such a sharp eye out. Why, just this morning I was warned by Anne Scarborough to watch where I walk when strolling on the deck. Apparently the boy has found some areas of the hold where he can hide and peek up through the knotholes in the floorboards to catch a glimpse of the ladies undergarments! What a cad! The reverend seems to feel that his son is above reproach but were I not so put off by his dour manner, I would certainly set things straight with him!
March 9, 1865
A most dreadful and remarkable event occurred today. It seemed as if young Tom Simonton's antics this past week have become worse than ever, as if he believed that his father's position would protect him from any punishment. Today, I had entered the brides' quarters alone to fetch my needlework, but when I tried to return to the deck, my way was blocked by the boy. He was demanding a kiss in exchange for letting me pass! I must confess, I was quite frightened and unsure of what to do and in my confusion, I must have cried out. Suddenly, Mr. Joshua Bolt was there and before I knew it, Tom was stretched out on the floor with blood gushing from his nose! The sight of the blood made me feel even more faint and I would have fallen to the floor myself had not Mr. Bolt caught me in his arms and set me down gently. He apologized for the young man's behavior toward me and said that he had seen him follow me to the hold and had, thank God, decided to investigate.
After making sure that I was indeed unharmed, Mr. Bolt took the Simonton boy rather roughly by the arm and led him from the hold. He later sent Miss MacQuire down to me in the event that I required some assistance. I found Mr. Bolt's actions to be most gentlemanly throughout my ordeal and hope that he will suffer no negative repercussions as a result of defending my honor.
March 10, 1865
I have been most touched by the concern the ladies have shown following my ordeal yesterday. I told no one what had happened but I later learned that Miss Serena Jacobsen was in our quarters the entire time...playing with her cat behind some barrels. She told her sister and some of the other brides of the event and of Joshua Bolt's intervention with Tom and, before I knew it, I was surrounded by ladies who were clucking sympathetically and wondering if I were alright. I admit that I did not know most of their names but I was gratified just the same.
Candy has told me that apparently there will not be any repercussions for Joshua Bolt. The Simonton boy is too embarrassed to report to his father and I am sure that none of the Bolts will tell him. Candy has asked the brides to keep silent as well. The Simontons are only with us for a few more days and there would be little to gain-I sincerely doubt that the Reverend would believe them, in any case. I, of course, would like to forget the whole humiliating experience! The gall of that boy, thinking that he could obtain a kiss so easily from someone of my status and experience!
To Be Continued.....
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