Chapter 7 – The Devil and Job
Louisa Sophia and A Legion of Sisters
A gust of burnt-coal-scented wind flowed through the carriage window, followed by a puff of fine gray soot. Louisa coughed and covered her mouth with her sleeve. Gabrielle and the Mère put handkerchiefs to their faces. As her eyes watered, Louisa gave thanks that the greenish brown river was far enough away that the waste billowing out of the smokestacks of the factories lining the Seine seldom reached them at St. Denis.
Their carriage jerked to a stop, and Louisa hurried outside, hoping to find relief. Like a fog, the ash and dust hid the mid-morning sun behind a haze of gray. The cotton of her dress could not suppress the smells of dank water, smoke, and excrement both human and animal that made her eyes water as her feet touched the ground.
She had disembarked from the carriage beside a long wooden dock paralleling the shoreline. Two narrow, keel-bottomed barges of considerable length were moored to the pier. Workers carried boxes of goods off one barge while another line of men rolled barrels onto another.
Louisa found her friends, and they huddled together without daring to speak. When she opened her mouth to say something, a foul, acrid taste spoiled her tongue. To her amazement, the longshoremen and riverboat sailors seemed impervious to the pollution, bantering away as they transferred the Tours’ luggage to the barge.
“Let’s go to Rosalie’s Potluck for lunch.”
“But Addy makes the best stew.”
“Don’t care, I’ve rotten luck there. The last three times, I got nuttin but broth.”
The men’s conversation drifted away as they moved to the barge. Behind a handkerchief, Eugénie’s eyes squinted as she gave Louisa her “See, I told you so.” look.
Louisa turned away from Gaiety.
You won’t make me feel guilty about that damn fish stew.
Still, a tinge of sorrow passed through Louisa. The soup she hated would have been a treasure to these dock workers. It’s not her fault they gambled for their lunches at potlucks. For all his faults, her uncle gave her skills to provide for herself. Never would she need to wager a meager salary for a chance to be the first to dip a ladle in a pot of soup in hopes of getting some of the prime bits.
A trim older gentleman stood near the gangplank wearing a fine, wool suit with a tall gray top hat. By his ramrod posture, manicured imperial beard, and sharp eyes taking in every detail around him, Louisa deduced this to be Colonel Theuvez. At the recognition, she had to push against her training.
Taught by her uncle to identify men like the colonel with a glance, he also tried to instill in her a fear of such men’s immutable sense of justice. Since she wasn’t working, Louisa had nothing to fear. She promised to learn as much as she could, to better understand the thinking of men like him.
A sailor wearing a heavy blue peacoat and a straw boater’s hat spoke to the colonel, who nodded. The colonel waved to Mère de la Nativité, and they exchanged nods. The nun, still holding a cloth to her nose, motioned for the girls to begin boarding. With the Mères in the lead, everyone lined up at the gangplank. Despite the haze of soot, the colonel introduced himself and shook each girl’s left hand before letting them proceed.
Last, in line, Louisa clasped the man’s hand in a firm grip when he offered his.
As they shook, the colonel said, “And you must be the infamous Mademoiselle Sophia. I am Colonel Theuvez. It is a pleasure to meet you.” He chuckled. “Madame Veuve Le Ray must have been mistaken.”
Louisa’s eyes narrowed. At only 1.6 meters tall, Louisa tilted her head back to meet the man’s intense brown eyes. She put on her prettiest smile and squeezed his hand harder. “The pleasure is mine, Colonel, and I assure you, the headmistress did not exaggerate.” Louisa wanted to spit as some ash settled on her tongue, but she stayed in proper form.
His eyes twinkled, and the lines around them grew more pronounced. “Are you sure? I should have found the horns by now if what she said were true.” His grip grew more vigorous.
A devil? Does Buttons really see me that way?
To hide that his words had left her nonplussed, Louisa hurried to say, “I save them for the true sinners.”
He laughed and disengaged from their handshake. In less than a heartbeat, the light in his eyes faded, and melancholy filled his voice. “As with Job, the devil has already done his worst.”
The hurt in his words pricked Louisa’s heart as she thought, How sad.
He sighed. “You should go to your cabin and out of this mess. In a few hours, we shall have clear skies again.”
Louisa bobbed her head and hustled down the wooden plank. When she reached the ship’s edge, she hopped to the deck, ignoring the sailor who held his hand out to help her down from the gunwale. She navigated the narrow walkway against the railing and headed to the stern. Dodging the barrels lashed to the majority of the main deck and heading for the cabins jutting up from the last third of the boat.
With long poles, the crew pushed away from the dock and Louisa skipped to steady herself on the shifting deck. When she was sure no one could see her, she spit over the side, trying to get that foul taste out of her mouth. Louisa paused at the door leading to the quarters and turned toward a loud racket coming from the middle of the river.
The strangest and loudest ship Louisa had ever seen moved through the water using a very unusual system. A large chain rose from the river and ran over a blunt metal-covered bow to wrap around a giant winch in the middle of the boat. The chain continued over the ship’s metal deck and dropped off the sawed-off stern, disappearing under murky river water. Black smoke puffed out of vessels small smokestacks, powering an engine that turned the winch. With each crank of the big wheel, metal screeched and banged as the chain pulled the ship forward. Clang! Bang! Screech!
Three barges similar to hers followed in the chain boat’s wake. With the first tethered to the floating winch, ropes tied the three together. The last ship’s crew tossed a giant rope to two sailors at the bow of her barge, adding them to the river caravan.
As fascinating as this means of propulsion was, Louisa ducked through the door leading to the cabins as a coughing fit overtook her. She entered a narrow hallway to the sounds of chattering girls. She coughed a few more times and gasped, trying to catch her breath. Though dank, her lungs found the stale air a welcome relief. There were four doors in the hall, two to a side. Marie’s snorting laughter led her to the last door on the right.
“There she is.”