Coffin Ship by William Henry

knowing they would never see it again, others must have felt cheated by the beautiful but barren land that could no longer sustain its people. What were their thoughts as they sailed out past the Aran Islands?

    Notice of Henry Cumerfort’s ship Sarah Milledge arriving in Galway and notice of the birth of his grandson.
(The Galway Mercury, 17-7-1847)
    As the ship ploughed westward, most of the pas-sengers were crammed into narrow compartments below the main deck. Few had been to sea before this sailing and, as on other famine ships, a wave of seasickness would likely have swept over many of the passengers before the Irish coast had even faded from view. [4]
    The frightened passengers huddled together in the cramped steerage quarters clutching their rosary beads to their chests as the ship rose and fell with the swell of the ocean. Apart from the threat posed by the unknown watery depths below them, the passengers also feared an outbreak of what was termed ‘ship fever’, which all too often resulted in death, followed by a lonely burial at sea.
    Four days into the journey, the fourteen-year-old-boy was discovered hiding in the hold. His captors were initially very angry and presented him to the captain, but the issue was soon resolved and the boy was passed into the care of his sisters.
    The days of sunshine and clear skies that followed had a calming effect on the passengers. They soon became accustomed to the roll of the sea and found the journey more bearable. At meal times they queued in an orderly fashion to cook their meagre food rations on the small stoves available on the open deck. For women such as Mary Sweeney, who had a husband and eleven children to take care of, the ship’s cooking arrangements can’t have made her job easy.
    As the weeks passed by, and the coastline of America drew ever closer, there was a growing sense of hope aboard the ship. A fiddler occasionally played some popular tunes that made children scramble to their feet and try their hand at Irish dancing. With the ship making good time under favourable winds, there was a general air of optimism amongst the passengers. As the St. John surged forward, its sails billowing in the strong winds, people began to speculate about what the land of hope and promise would bring. During the first week of October the ship entered the waters of the New World and excitement levels reached a crescendo. The passengers knew they were close and they competed for space along the gunwales each day, their eyes scanning the horizon for the first glimpse of the American coastline. They were almost there. Memories of their homeland, where hunger stalked every road and boreen, began to fade away. The following poem, which was published in the Galway Mercury on 5 September 1846, describes the hardship the passengers had left behind: [5]

    Tea being served on board an emigrant ship.
(The Illustrated London News, 20-1-1849)

    â€˜Soup Time’: soup being served on board an emigrant ship.
(The Illustrated London News, 20-1-1849)
    â€˜Song of the Famine
    (From the Fireman)’
    Knee deep in the furrow
    The peasant stands,
    And he wringeth in sorrow
    His toil-worn hands;
    And wan and woe smitten
    His forehead – for care
    And famine have written
    His misery there.
    He hath delved and upturned
    Of his garden a rood,
    Where blighted and burned
    Lies his rot-stricken food;
    The earth he had riven,
    Its rottenness baring –
    He looketh to Heaven,
    Heartbroken, despairing.
    Now enter his cottage.
    Where starving in common,
    Lie shivering dotage
    And suffering women;
    Yet, pause if you cower –
    By contagion are scared;
    Here fevers devour
    What famine hath spared.
    For drink hoarsely craving
    On the damp ground reclining,
    See writhing and raving
    In the pestilence pining,
    â€™Til death, hailed with pleasure,
    Blackened corpses, now strews ’em
    His child – his heart’s treasure –
    And the wife of his bosom.
    Oh, God, in