Good Hope by O'Neill C.M

Author:O'Neill, C.M.
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Independent
Published: 2022-09-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

One could easily mistake the weather deck of the Drommedaris for a Turkish bazaar had it not been that almost every piece of cloth or clothing was white or as close to white as possible. Several lines ran from every conceivable structure, and over it slapped and danced under- and outer garments, bedclothes, and baby clouts. Every female hand on deck, except for the surgeon’s wife, had been doing laundry since the crack of dawn. The days were hot and humid this close to the equator, with afternoon showers on most days. The women depended on today’s rain, for they needed the fresh water to soften the laundry on the lines.

The women were grouped around three large tubs, all filled with seawater. The first had a curb board for washing, and the next two were for rinsing. It was an exercise in futility, for the soap did not take well to the saltwater. Instead of lathering, it floated on top like clabber.

“This will never dry,” Elsje complained. Anything rinsed in saltwater took forever to dry, and once it did, the salt in the fabrics would soak up any hint of moisture in the air and turn the garment damp again.

“Let’s pray the afternoon shower will rid it of most of the salt,” Mrs. Boom’s reply came from where she stood bent over the tub of insincere soapy water.

“Do you not have an herb or a droplet of oil we can add to the soap next time to improve the smell a bit?” She had tied her hair back with a handkerchief and another wrapped over her mouth and nose, one arm resting on her knee for support and the other rubbing a shirt vigorously up and down the scrub board. “Ever since I got pregnant with the girls, I can’t stand the smell. It sticks to the back of my throat.”

“I have no idea how to make soap. We used to buy ours from a lady down at the docks,” Danielle replied. She and Elsje were wringing the garments from the second rinsing tub and hanging them over the lines. “Why don’t you let me do the washing then? We can swap tasks.”

“No, my sweet, if you do this, your hands will be as rough as one of them sailors. You’ll scrape the skins clean off poor Antoonie’s bottom when you change his clout.”

“Or Sebastiaan’s face,” Elsje chimed in a voice meant to be secretive, but hardly was.

“What?” Danielle protested before thinking better of it, her cheeks instantly flaming.

Elsje was a perennial pest, and nobody was safe from her sharp eyes and wicked humor.

“Oh, don’t tell me the two of you have not laid a finger on each other. What with all the time you’ve spent together over the last few weeks?”

“Leave off, Elsje,” her mother chastised. Danielle reflected on the truth of Elsje’s observation with a small, rueful smile. She gave Elsje a leer through her slitted eyes and caught the end of a bed sheet as it flicked towards her, and the dance continued; she twisted to the left and Elsje to the right.

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