Lit by the waning moon, and dressed in tongs and a shirt from my role as bargeman, I led Sandy up from the docks in search of our night’s lodging. After a few blocks, we saw a large home with a sign: “Mrs. Hoffmeister, Rooms and Board.” For 50 c we got a room larger than ours in Stanwix Hall, but more cheaply furnished. Our supper was mostly thin cabbage soup and coarse bread, followed by a thin slice of mutton and a boiled potato. The bed was of the cheapest kind, with sagging ropes. We awoke early, itching with bed bugs bites. Breakfast was thin coffee, watery porridge with skimmed milk and burnt toast – dry. Needless to say, we did not linger.

Our steamer, the Sultana under captain Calvin W. Appleby, was due to arrive that evening, but would not be coaled and ready to depart until 10:00. As it was Sunday, Sandy and I dressed our best and availed ourselves of the opportunity to attend services. There we were treated to dreadful hymns and a homily on hell fire and damnation. These were redeemed, to a degree, by the social that followed. There, I drew the attention of two hopeful young women my age, one a maid and the other a shop girl, but lost their interest when they learned I was in transit.

Meanwhile Sandy was talking to a shy boy of perhaps thirteen years, who seemed smitten by her. There was an animation and glow in her that I had not seen before. I reflected on the difficulties she would have in finding suitable companionship, and, eventually, a partner. I certainly had no intention of using Paula’s tale as a guide by sending her to a molly house to find a man of suitable inclination.

When the social ended, I followed the suggestion of one of the girls I had conversed with and walked to the staircase locks, a series of five ascending and five descending locks that transited a ridge between the town and the interior. It was very different watching them from land than from the deck of the coal barge. Even Sandy, who has little interest in mechanics, found them fascinating.

Afterward, we luncheoned at a hoffbrau or German tavern near the docks. The food was unique, as the Germans seem to relish all things sour. We had sauerbraten (beef marinated in vinegar) with sauerkraut (fermented cabbage) and potatoes. Again, we had beer, which made Sandy rather silly.

Before our dessert, our places were cleared by an epicene boy. He had a dainty manner and sweet face marred by a swollen bruise on his left cheek. He reminded me of Little Edward, but older.

“What is your name dear?”

“Hans, mien Herr.”

“Do you speak English, Hans?”

“Yes, they teach English in school, but most I speak Deutsch.”

“I see.”

“What happened to your poor face, dear?”

“My vater, he hit me.”

I could tell this was a source of embarrassment to him, as he sped his clearing of our places. So, I decided not to question him further – not that I had much chance as he hurried off to the kitchen with our dirty dishes.

After a delicious cherry cake with a long German name, we went down to the lake front, as the stores were all closed for the Sabbath. There families were picnicking and children playing in the water under the watchful eye of their parents. A mother came up and asked if my sister could play with her daughter. I helped Sandy with her shoes and stockings so she could wade in the lake. Then I settled in the shade of a tree to read a book Mr. Mott had given me. It was Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus, a strange tale of a doctor who believed he could return life to the dead.

“Is that an interesting book?”

I looked up to see a pretty young woman addressing me.

“Well, it is a very unusual tale, and … yes, it is very interesting.”

“You will forgive me for being so bold, but I have been observing you for some time, and have come to a rather startling conclusion.”

“Yes?”

“I hope you will forgive me if I am wrong, and I mean no offence, but I think you are a woman. Am I right?”

I was shocked, but saw no point in lying to one so perspicacious. “Yes, you are right.”

“Do you enjoy being a man?” This was a very direct person.

“I do, but the joy is not unalloyed.”

“I can imagine. I too have thought of cutting my hair and binding my bosom as you seem to have done … but I have never had an example before. That is why I had to approach you. I hope you will forgive me.”

“I do.”

“Do you find the advances of men … annoying, perhaps repulsive?”

“Let us say that I have yet to find them attractive.”

“Yes, precisely! Women are so much more … attractive.”

“Yes, some are.” I was beginning to feel stirred as I had been with Caroline.

“Of course not all men are equally unattractive. For example, a man like you is particularly attractive. I wonder if you would you like to come my rooms and share some … refreshment?”

“I would, but alas, I have a charge to watch over,” I nodded to Sandy, “and will be on a steamer west tonight. Still, I would like to know your name.”

“Gertrude Hobbs. Isn’t that a horrid name? I so wish it were Guinevere – or even Gary.”

“I am Bill when so attired, nee Nancy. … You know, you could change your name.”

“I am not so brave.”

“I find you very brave! How else could you approach a complete stranger as you have?”

“Perhaps you are right, but I have my family to consider.”

“Being an orphan, I have no such considerations. So, perhaps you are no less brave than I.”

“Perhaps. I wish we come be … closer. Still, meeting you has provided me with an example. I feel myself changed, as though a spell had been cast … no, lifted. … Yes, as though some invisible chains had been broken!”

We chatted on, sharing feelings and verbal intimacies almost as close as physical intimacies. We only ceased when Sandy ran up.

“I’m hungry, Miss, … er, Bill.”

“Shall we go back to the hoffbrau for another dessert?”

“Yes, that would be wonderful!”

“Well, I better let you feed your charge. Here is my address, should you care to write.”

“Thank you, Gwen.”

Having no where else to go, we stayed at the hoffbrau until it closed. After, we sat in the dark on a nearby bench waiting for the steamer to begin coaling. To pass the time, I told Sandy the story of Doctor Frankenstein as far as I had read.

Suddenly, my narration was broken by high pitched screams, the sound of slaps and muffled threats. I had Sandy hide, drew my colt, and went to investigate. I crept along in the shadows until the moon, in its last half, revealed a large man dragging Hans by his ear and the back of his pants. Hans’s tear stained face glistened as he cried “No!” and “Please!” to no avail.

“Ye’ll make a fine bummboy. Ye may not like the idea now, but soon ye’ll be cravin’ a big cock up yer arse. Anyways, yer mine now. I paid a fin for ye – but I don’t begrudge old Goebbels a dime – ye’ll make me a hundred times as much.”

I stepped into the moonlight so my colt could be seen. Assuming my fierce visage, I said in a deep voice “Unhand the lad. I have five shots here, and killed a scum like you a week ago, so drop him now and raise your hands.”

Fortunately, he did, as I did not know if I could have shot him in cold blood.

“I know you have sleeve guns.” (The Sargeant had warned me.) “At four feet you might kill me, but at this range you have no chance. Drop them one at a time and kick them over.”
I was rewarded with a pair of Derringers.

“Hans, stand over there, to the side. … you, take off your cravat and braces. … Lay on your stomach and cross your hands behind your back. … Hans, tie his hands with his cravat.”

With him so disabled, I approached and tied his hands to his feet with his braces. Finally, I stuffed his handkerchief in his mouth and pulled Hans back into the shadows. We found Sandy, then rounded the corner and ran for the coaling station.

We arrived just as the Sultana was pulling in. Henry and Becky were waiting outside the office and greeted us warmly.

“Who da boy?”

“Hans, another escaped slave.”

“But he be white?”

“Yes, but he was on his way to slavery nonetheless.”

“Miss Nancy?” said Becky.

Hans looked at me startled, but said nothing.

“I’s thinking. I’s got money now and Mr. Mott, he make me freedom papers. I don’ wanta go to no Cannan. I wanta go to St. Louie wid you.”

“Why ever would you want to do that?”

“Cuz I need to take care o’ my chil that is comin’. I know how to do hair real pretty and I bet lots of ladies in St. Louie would pay me to do it. I don’ know nutin’ bout Cannan or Canada or whatever in the hell it is. So, can I come? I can pay my own way.”

“You know that if you go to St. Louis, there is always a chance you could get sent back?”

“Yes m’. I’s willin’ to take my chance.”

I did not know how to deny her. “Alright, you can come.”

“Good, I be Sandy’s maid till we gets there.”

“What about you Henry?”

“I’s on my way to Cannan an' not turnin’ back.”

“Good for you, dear!”

Henry took my Shefield out of his pocket. “This – it have your makamashi.”

“My makamashi?”

“Mmm … it story be story of you. It makamashi keep me safe. Now you take back for keep you safe.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, in Cannan, I be making my makamashi.”

“Alright. Thank you.”

“What about you, Hans? As you heard, we three are on our way to St. Louis, and Henry is going to Canada. Do you wish to come – or stay?”

“If I stay, that man will take me, aber ich habe kein Geld, um dorthin zu gehen. Er … I haf no money to go.”

“Can’t you go home?”

“No. Vater, he throws me out. He says I vill never come back.”

“Then you shall come with us – at least for now.”

“But I haf no money.”

“I have money.”

Just then a young ship’s officer appeared to arrange the coaling and, as it happened, to conduct Henry and Becky.

I paid Hans’s fare out of my wages, for I could not use the money Captain de Peyster entrusted to me for Sandy. I got a cabin for Sandy and me, but let Hans sleep on a bench in the common area. There were some boiler repairs to be madie, so we were not underway until midnight. All the while, I scanned the dock for Hans’s abductor. He never appeared.
Once we were underway, Captain Appleby sent for me.

“I know about Henry and am told you plan to disembark at Erie. Why is that?”

“I need to go to Pittsburgh to catch a riverboat.”

“Then you had best disembark at Conneaut as there is a corduroy road from there to Pittsburgh which is better in every respect than the road from Erie.”

“Unfortunately, I might have mail awaiting me in Erie.”

“We will be discharging and loading cargo in Erie, and the post office is in sight of the dock. So you should be able to get to the post office and back before the ship departs again. ... Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“No, you have been very kind and helpful. Thank you very much.”

“Sleep well, young lady.”

Satisfied on every point, I fell into a deep sleep.