Doctor Margaret In Delhi

Chapter Two

1855, January: Calcutta, India

IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT, the stillness of the ship woke me. I lay on the narrow bunk bed in the tiny cabin, wondering what could be the matter. After spending weeks—which had seemed nearly a lifetime—rolling and pitching about, and trying to keep my belongings secure in the cupboards, the eerie tranquility was unbelievable. Were we there already? I did not think so, for just that morning the grey-bearded Captain had said, "It's still one more day to Calcutta, ma'am."

Throwing off the covers, I jumped out of bed and peered through the small porthole. In the foggy darkness, I could only discern the outline of some thatched-roofed huts and flickering lights on the shore. Indeed, we had reached our destination! Unable to contain my excitement—and taking care not to awaken the lady who slept snoring on the opposite bed—I put on a petticoat, a dark gown and a bonnet. I made sure that I tucked in my long, fair hair, for I did not wish to get it wet in the mist. I tiptoed out of the cabin and proceeded towards the companionway. Despite the late hour, I could not wait to take a first look at India, the land I had read and heard so much about; the country of my dreams.

As I stepped on deck and walked up to the railing, the warm, misty night air and a rotten eggs like stench, from the floating sewage, engulfed me. Sailors bustled about, shouting instructions to each other, doing the chores needed to anchor the ship, while I stood with my elbows propped on the handrail and gazed out into the steamy, gloomy night. Where were all those lovely buildings I had heard some of the passengers talk about?

"Is Calcutta out there?" I asked one of the sailors.

"No, ma'am. We be just at the mouth of the 'Ooghly. A bit o' the ways to go yet." He touched his cap and hurried along.

So, it would still be some time before I would see my dear parents, sister and brother again. I sighed. While I believed the Calcutta Government House would have informed them of my arrival, I wondered if any of them might be at the docks to receive me. Likely not. For one thing, the American Mission at Futtehgurh was quite a distance up the Ganges River. I was not certain whether even Papa would be able to come all the way down. My thoughts turned to the last time I had seen them.

It was about five years ago, when I had just graduated from the Women's Medical College in Philadelphia. My husband, Robert, had come down all the way from Fort George in Niagara, Canada, to take me back to our first home. He looked very smart in his cavalry officer's red jacket. What is more, he had spared no expense and rented a carriage; we were to travel in style! I had protested that I could have ridden a horse, but he would hear none of it, saying that I had far too many portmanteaux, books and other paraphernalia. Indeed, there was quite a collection of medical books. Although, I suspected he was mostly considering my condition, for I was expecting our first child.

Robert helped me up onto the carriage and followed to sit beside me.

"Shall we go by Elizabethville?" I asked.

"Are you sure?" Robert looked at me with raised eyebrows. From his eyes I knew he wondered if I still wanted to see my parents, even though they had not replied to my letters and attended neither our wedding nor my graduation.