His eyes were already closed, but his hand fumbled for my forearm. “It’s all right, Sarah. We will let it be what it is.”
17 July 1819
Dear Nina,
We are settled at Fish Tavern. Mother would call the place shabby, but it was once elegant and it has character. The rooms are nearly filled with boarders, but I’ve met only two. They are elderly widowed sisters from New York, who come to prayer meetings each evening in the dining room. I like the younger one quite a lot.
Father commands all of my attention. We came for the sea air, but he hasn’t ventured from his room. I open the window, but the squawking gulls annoy him, and he orders the window closed by noon. I’m quite devious—I leave it open a crack and tell him it’s shut. It’s all the more reason I must go to the dining room and pray with the sisters.
At fifteen, you are old enough that I may speak sister to sister. Father’s pain grows worse. He sleeps long, fitful hours from the laudanum, and when I insist he take some exercise around the room, he leans heavily against me. I must feed him most of his meals. Still, Nina, I know there’s hope! If faith moves mountains, God will rally Father soon. Each day, I sit by his bed and pray and read the Bible aloud for hours at a time. Don’t be angry at me for my piety. I am Presbyterian after all. As you know, we’re fond of our gall and wormwood.
I trust you’re not provoking Mother too much. If possible, restrain yourself until my return. I pray Handful is well. Keep your eye out for her. If she needs protecting for any reason, do your best.
I miss your company. Perhaps I’m a bit lonely, but I have God. You may tell Mother all is well.
Your Devoted Sister,
Sarah
Every day at specified times, the hotel clerk raised and lowered red and white flags near the steps that led down to the beach. At nine o’clock sharp, the red flag went up, signaling the gentlemen to take possession of the shore. I would observe them thundering into the waves, racing beyond the breakers, and diving. Surfacing, they stood waist-deep, their hands on their hips, and surveyed the horizon. On the beach, they tussled or huddled together and smoked cigars. At eleven, the white flag went up, and the men climbed the stairs back to the hotel with woolen towels draped about their necks.
Then the ladies appeared. Even if I was in the midst of prayer, I would mutter a hasty Amen and fly to the window to watch them descend the stairs in their bathing dresses and oilskin caps. I’d never seen ladies bathing. Back home, women didn’t go into the ocean in fanciful get-ups. There was a floating bathhouse in the harbor off East Battery with a private area for females, but Mother thought it was unseemly. Once, to my astonishment, I spotted the two elderly sisters I’d written about to Nina, moving gingerly down the steps with the others. The younger one, Althea, always took pains to inquire not only about Father, but about me. “How are you, dear? You look pallid. Are you getting outdoors enough?” When I’d glimpsed her among the bathers that day, she’d glanced back, and seeing me at the window, she’d motioned me to join them. I’d shaken my head, but nothing would’ve pleased me more.
The women always entered the water differently than the men, holding on to heavy ropes anchored to the shore. At times there would be a dozen of them stretched into the water, clinging to a single line, squealing and turning their backs against the spray. If Father was sleeping, I would stay at the window and watch with a lump in my chest until the white flag came down.
On the morning of August eighth, I was there at the windowsill, neglecting my prayers, when Father woke, crying my name. “Sarah!” Reaching his side, I realized he was still asleep. “Sarah!” he shouted again, tossing his head in agitation. I placed my hand on his chest to steady him, and he woke with his breath coming hard and fast.
He gazed at me with the feverish look of someone stumbling back from a nightmare. It saddened me to think I’d been part of it. During these weeks at Long Branch, Father had been kind to me. How are you faring, Sarah? Are you eating enough? You seem weary. Put down the Bible, go for a walk. His tenderness had shocked me. Yet he’d remained aloof, never speaking of deeper things.