Anna's Crossing: An Amish Beginnings Novel by Suzanne Woods Fisher Page B

Creek for beef, bickering over the price of meat at cattle markets in Plymouth Hoe, and visiting agents for the Tamar Valley market gardeners to negotiate the price of greens. All things Bairn should be doing, while Mr. Pocock searched the shores for a cure for his gout.
    Bairn turned his attention to ordering a few deckhands to bring the empty water casks. They rolled them along the deck and lowered them over the side into the longboats, then made their way to Plymouth for filling. Bairn watched the second longboat head toward shore with empty casks and tried to shrug off the feeling of gloom that descended.

    In the quiet, Anna heard something like thunder above deck. She lay there, still sleepy, and fuzzily tried to figure out what the ship’s noises were revealing. She heard loud squeaks and groans of a turning chain, then a sharp jolt as the ship came to a steady quiver and there was silence, broken only by the slap of water against her side and the pad of the seamen’s feet on deck.
    After the initial shock of being at sea, her mal de mer had begun to ease up, thanks to the suggestion of using a hammock made by the ship’s carpenter—Bairn. As she felt less miserable, her awareness of her surroundings grew.
    She started to realize that the Charming Nancy had a language of her own: constantly talking, murmuring, whispering. Soft, gentle, soothing sounds, unlike the harsh noises made up above by cursing seamen. Timbers groaned, bells rang, masts creaked, sails flapped, as if the ship were an enormous living creature. It was an epiphany for Anna, to feel connected, protective even, of this aging old vessel that was doing her best to see the little church over the deep waters.
    On this July morning, Anna lay in her hammock, already sweating in the summer heat. She leaned over and reached for the top of her chest to get a handkerchief and a small bottle of lavender water. She sprinkled some onto a piece of thinlinen and pressed it over her nose. It helped, she had found, to mask the smell. To her surprise, she might just miss this old wooden Lady, but not enough to pass up a chance to get off the ship in Plymouth and get right back on one that was heading to Rotterdam. She swung the hammock by pushing a foot against the wall. She was actually enjoying a little quiet despite the sweltering humidity of the morning, so hot she felt as if she was slowly melting.
    It was all too peaceful to last.
    Anna yanked the handkerchief off her face. Had they finally reached Plymouth? She barely finished the thought in her mind as an eleven-gun salute from the harbor startled everyone awake. Wonder and worry made her jump from the hammock and run to the portal by the cannon for her first glimpse of Plymouth.
    The captain! She had to speak to him at once.

    Bairn walked along the deck, supervising the seamen who scoured the deck with soft sandstone. Now anchored in Plymouth harbor while the captain secured provisions, the ship would undergo make-and-mend days: torn sails patched, leaks caulked, a mast repaired.
    He heard his name called and turned to see Anna standing at the top of the companionway. He walked toward her to see what she wanted.
    “May I have a word with you?” She turned and hurried down the companionway.
    He followed her down but stopped on the second-to-last step, blinking against the sudden darkness after the bright sunlight. Rank smells assaulted him: stale sweat, vomit-soakedfloorboards, chamber pots. He held the neck of his waistcoat to his nose. It was not only the smells that made his heart quake, but the hacking coughs that filled the lower deck. He tried not to gag. Decker had complained bitterly of the stench of the lower deck, but he assumed it was an exaggeration because he despised the Peculiars.
    If this was the result of a few rainy and windy days on the channel, how would the Peculiars survive a trip across the Atlantic? “I’d prefer to talk on the upper deck.” He hurried back up the stairs and took