For three days the coastal steamer chugged along the flat coast of Texas, black smoke
pouring out of its smokestack. Two giant paddlewheels on either side of the steamer
splashed noisily pushing her through the water, and the two square sails fore and
aft filled with the easterly wind.
Mina was hungry. The only food on the ship was bread and warm water for coffee. Mama
had bought some provisions in Galveston, but Mina longed for a cup of milk and some
cheese to go with the bread.
"Papa, will there be food for us when we get to Indian Point?"
"Ja, sure, Mina." He was sitting on a box cleaning his shotgun.
"The Verein will have a place for us to eat and stay the night."
Mina liked this shiny new gun of Papa's with the polished wooden stock. She ran her
finger along the cold smooth barrels. No Indian would bother them with such a protector.
"Papa, could you teach me to shoot your gun?"
Papa stopped cleaning and looked at Mina. "Now, my kleine Mina, whatever
would you need to shoot a gun for?" There was a hint of a smile on the right
side of his wide mouth.
"Well, Papa, suppose there was an Indian who was not friendly, and suppose you
were out in the field somewhere. What would Mama and I do?" Mina waited a moment
to see if Papa would say something, but he just looked at Mina with a sort of sad,
faraway look in his eyes. Then he took a deep breath.
"Very well, Mina, I will show you." He handed the gun to Mina, and she
put the wooden stock against her right shoulder and looked down the barrels squinting
her left eye. She aimed toward the ship's rail.
"Now, find something to steady your aim, Mina."
She knelt beside one of their boxes, and put her arm on top.
"Pull the hammer back to full cock and center the front sight."
With the constant motion of the ship it was hard to hold the bead in the center.
"I have it, Papa."
"All right, now, squeeze the front trigger slowly."
Mina squeezed, and the hammer clicked against the cap.
"When we are on shore I will show you how to load it, Mina."
What would little Angelica do if she knew Mina was learning to fire a shotgun. The
thought of the look on her face made Mina giggle.
In the afternoon a cold wind began to blow from the north as the steamer entered Matagorda Bay. It was a flat empty coastline-no trees, no houses. Mina, Papa, and Mama stood with the Kaufmanns watching this lonely coastline. Mina was warmly bundled with a woolen scarf on her head.
Suddenly, around a bend in the distance Mina saw people on the beach, and an assortment
of tents.
"Papa, Papa, look." Mina pointed toward the beach.
"Indian Point," a sailor cried out.
"Those people must be Germans from other ships," said Papa.
"But why are there so many?" Mina looked up at him for an answer.
"Ernst, what does it mean?" Mama asked.
"Now, Minchen, do not fret. We may have to camp here for a day or two, but everything
will be all right." Papa's face had a worried look as though he did not really
believe his own words.
As they drew near the beach in the row boat, Mina snuggled between Papa and Mama.
Johanna was buttoned inside her coat. People gathered at the landing spot, watching
solemnly. The boat's bow ran up onto the beach, and the oarsman jumped out and pulled
it further onto land.
"We sure do not need anymore hungry Germans here," a grim faced man shouted.
"Oh, be quiet, Herman," said another.
"He is right, of course. You will go back to Germany if you know what is good
for you."
Mina looked at the group gathered on the beach. Their faces were haggard. She pulled
her coat more tightly around her. "Come, come now. What kind of welcome is that?" asked a man who began to help unload the boxes.
When the unloading was finished Papa shook hands with the kind man. "Many thanks.
I am Ernst Jordan from Wehrstedt, and this is my wife, and my daughter, Mina."
"My name is Peter Bauer from Ebstorf." He put his other hand over Papa's
as they shook. "Maybe we should all have stayed back in Germany."
"What has happened?" asked Papa. "Where is the Verein? "
"Ah, well, we do not know," Herr Bauer said with a deep sigh. "A
month we have been here, and no wagons have come to carry us inland. It is not good."
Mina looked around at the camp. The tents were lonely and drab, flapping in the wind.
Some were merely bedspreads or tablecloths stretched over branches.
"Papa, I want to go home to Germany. I do not like Texas." But she knew
with a sinking feeling that they could not go back.
"You know we cannot go back to Germany. So, first we shall make a shelter, and
then we shall see."
Somehow Papa's words made Mina feel better, more hopeful.
Herr Bauer loaned Papa a shovel and helped them dig a rectangular hole in
the ground. Mina and Mama packed the dirt into low walls.
"Well, there is one thing to be thankful for," said Herr Bauer.
"We have fresh meat for the catching-fish, turtles, prairie chicken. You will
become a hunter very quickly, Herr Jordan." He chuckled.
Papa stopped digging for a moment. "Ja, you see, Minchen, it is a good
thing I bought the shotgun."
Mama did not reply, but went on packing the walls. It was nearly dark by the time they covered it over with brush and small branches. Mama took out the gray blanket that had hung across the compartment in the Margaretha. It now became the roof of the dugout.
Mina had to crawl inside like a wild animal. It was dark and damp, but at least out
of the wind.
"Minchen, do we still have some food in the box?" Papa asked.
"Ja, Ernst, we have dried fruit and ship's biscuits. But not much."
"Then that will have to do." Papa turned to Mina. "Tomorrow Mina and
I will catch some fish-somehow."
"But, Ernst, how long must we stay here camped in this hovel?" Mama asked.
"I do not know, Minchen, but God will see us through."
"I knew we should not have come to this wilderness, Ernst. And now, see what
misery we have found." Mama put her face in her hands and began to weep silently.
"Minchen, you must do your part. God helps those who help themselves."
He put his hand gently on the back of her golden hair.
Mama straightened up suddenly. "I should not have listened to you-that would
have been my part!" Her eyes were brimming with tears. "What did you know
about Texas? What did anyone know?"
Mina crawled out of the tent and put her hands over her ears. A light rain had begun
to fall. She looked along the curving coastline cluttered with the motley tents.
There was one small house in the distance-a farmer's house, Mina guessed-and other
than that, nothing for as far as she could see but flat land and scattered small
ponds. "Mina," Papa came out of the tent, "come, you must not catch cold. Come inside the tent."
The tent did not look cozy, but there was nowhere else to go. Inside, Mama had spread
blankets. Mina lay down on the hard cold ground, and pulled the blankets around her.
She wished she were back in Opa's warm, cheery house.