last time. She had spent so many years so close to this land. How could she leave it? Buttercups and daffodils were just beginning to bloom along the hedges, bursts of bright yellow that brightened the damp April morning. The trees were alive with the noisy chatter of birds. In her heart Tara said goodbye to the emerald meadows and headlands, to the ditches harboring fox borrows and the stone walls that hugged the gently sloping hills. The land had no answer back. There was nothing here for her anymore. Nothing but sorrowful memories.
Tara and Padraig arrived in Queenstown and boarded the great ship with a horde of other emigrants. She sensed the nervous eagerness of those around her, and tried to quell her own trepidation. What would happen when the ship landed in New York? Some of her shipmates already had jobs arranged in America. She was sure—or was hoping, anyway—that the money from the sale of the farm would take care of her and Paddy until she found gainful employment. And a permanent place to live. Many of her fellow passengers were going to live with relations. For the first time, she realized just how tenuous, how inadequate her plans were.
She located the sleeping accommodations for herself and her brother. Well below deck, they were, in steerage. As humble as their third class berths were, they’d still taken a large chunk of her money. The rest of it Tara carried in a pouch hidden beneath her skirts.
Tara took Paddy back up to the deck so they could view the shoreline as the ship pulled out of the harbor. High above them, on the first class deck, people dressed in finery the likes of which Tara had never seen waved to friends on shore and toasted each other with champagne. They seemed oblivious to the shabby emigrants massed on the deck below.
The ship churned out of the harbor and into open sea. At last Tara’s doubts began to lift. She was doing the right thing. America was a young country, bursting with life and possibilities. How could she fail to find a place for herself there?
It was reassuring that the ship carrying them there was so large, though she had nothing with which to compare it, since this was her first time on the high seas. Perhaps many ships were this big. She leaned over the rail to read the white letters painted on the hull. Even its name denoted size, she thought with satisfaction.
Titanic
. Now there was a grand name for a ship.
Chapter Five
B y the second day of the voyage, Tara grew accustomed to the rolling motion of the sea. Others were not so lucky. They stayed below in their bunks most of the time, suffering from queasiness and groaning in discomfort.
Paddy felt seasick not at all. He quickly became pals with another Irish emigrant his own age, one Danny Flaherty. Tara had some misgivings about the friendship. Little Dan had a wild streak in him. She could see that at once in the crooked grin and the cocky walk that was much too precocious for a six-year-old. The way he spoke to her bordered on insolence! Very soon Padraig and his cohort were busy exploring every corner of the ship, including areas where they were forbidden to go. The third class steward had to return the pair of sheepish-looking boys to her several times, after they were caught in some minor misadventure or other.
“They sneaked into Boiler Room Number Six,” the steward told her on one occasion. “It’s dangerous—no place for a couple of kids.”
The steerage passengers quickly settled into shipboard routines. The men smoked pipes and played cards, while the women passed their time sewing and gossiping with each other.
Tara tried to be friendly with some of the other Irish, but she soon realized she was the target of gossip. “Too young to be traveling alone,” she’d heard one old biddy sniff, when she thought Tara was asleep. “And a girl lookin’ like that? She’ll come to no good when we land, mark me words. She’ll end up in the clutches of some evil man, rougin’ her cheeks and
Tara and Padraig arrived in Queenstown and boarded the great ship with a horde of other emigrants. She sensed the nervous eagerness of those around her, and tried to quell her own trepidation. What would happen when the ship landed in New York? Some of her shipmates already had jobs arranged in America. She was sure—or was hoping, anyway—that the money from the sale of the farm would take care of her and Paddy until she found gainful employment. And a permanent place to live. Many of her fellow passengers were going to live with relations. For the first time, she realized just how tenuous, how inadequate her plans were.
She located the sleeping accommodations for herself and her brother. Well below deck, they were, in steerage. As humble as their third class berths were, they’d still taken a large chunk of her money. The rest of it Tara carried in a pouch hidden beneath her skirts.
Tara took Paddy back up to the deck so they could view the shoreline as the ship pulled out of the harbor. High above them, on the first class deck, people dressed in finery the likes of which Tara had never seen waved to friends on shore and toasted each other with champagne. They seemed oblivious to the shabby emigrants massed on the deck below.
The ship churned out of the harbor and into open sea. At last Tara’s doubts began to lift. She was doing the right thing. America was a young country, bursting with life and possibilities. How could she fail to find a place for herself there?
It was reassuring that the ship carrying them there was so large, though she had nothing with which to compare it, since this was her first time on the high seas. Perhaps many ships were this big. She leaned over the rail to read the white letters painted on the hull. Even its name denoted size, she thought with satisfaction.
Titanic
. Now there was a grand name for a ship.
Chapter Five
B y the second day of the voyage, Tara grew accustomed to the rolling motion of the sea. Others were not so lucky. They stayed below in their bunks most of the time, suffering from queasiness and groaning in discomfort.
Paddy felt seasick not at all. He quickly became pals with another Irish emigrant his own age, one Danny Flaherty. Tara had some misgivings about the friendship. Little Dan had a wild streak in him. She could see that at once in the crooked grin and the cocky walk that was much too precocious for a six-year-old. The way he spoke to her bordered on insolence! Very soon Padraig and his cohort were busy exploring every corner of the ship, including areas where they were forbidden to go. The third class steward had to return the pair of sheepish-looking boys to her several times, after they were caught in some minor misadventure or other.
“They sneaked into Boiler Room Number Six,” the steward told her on one occasion. “It’s dangerous—no place for a couple of kids.”
The steerage passengers quickly settled into shipboard routines. The men smoked pipes and played cards, while the women passed their time sewing and gossiping with each other.
Tara tried to be friendly with some of the other Irish, but she soon realized she was the target of gossip. “Too young to be traveling alone,” she’d heard one old biddy sniff, when she thought Tara was asleep. “And a girl lookin’ like that? She’ll come to no good when we land, mark me words. She’ll end up in the clutches of some evil man, rougin’ her cheeks and
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