Murphy's Law by Rhys Bowen

together, shivering. After a freezing half hour, grateful for the warmth of the other bodies around us, we saw a
    large red building looming out of the fog. A building in the middle of nowhere. It appeared to be floating on its own in the middle of the ocean.
    "Ellis Island." The word went around the ferry and everyone jostled to try to get the first glimpse. It was imposing enough with its big brick arches and its shining copper turrets.
    "It's brand-new," I heard one of the ferrymen say. "Only been open a couple of months. The old one burned down in 'ninety-seven. They've spent all this time and money building a new one."
    It was then that I noticed we were not alone. A long line of ferries was waiting ahead of us, the first one docked and disgorging a steady stream of people.
    "Four or five immigrant ships came in last night," the ferryman said. "We'll just have to wait our turn."
    We waited and waited. It must have been past midday when we were allowed to dock. I tried to balance Bridie in one arm and my bundle in the other as we went ashore. Michael appeared at my side to take Seamus's hand and his bundle, too.
    "Don't worry," he said, watching me glance over my shoulder as we came down the gangplank. "I'll drop back in the line as soon as you're safely ashore, so that you can clear immigration first and get the money back to me."
    "It wasn't that," I said. "I was trying to see where O'Malley had gotten to."
    "O'Malley? Has he been bothering you again?"
    "Last night," I said. "Making stupid threats."
    "If that man comes near you again, I'll kill him," Michael said, then blushed when he saw my surprised face. "I could, you know. I might look young but I've done my share of fighting."
    "We're near the front of the line," I said. "With any luck we'll be through and away before O'Malley gets off the boat."
    We inched forward until we were standing under a big glass-and-steel canopy that led to the front entrance. Another line of people was brought to stand beside us. They looked very different and very foreign. There were women among them dressed head to toe in black, with scarves around their heads. There were men who looked like brigands, with wild beards and drooping mustaches. Then there were men in leather trousers,
    smart-looking women in fur coats, and a little girl who had a white fur muff around her neck, hanging from a chain that sparkled as if it was made from gems. What was a family like hers doing here? Someone said the ship had come from Germany. I suppose there must have been people from all over Europe on board. Anyway, there was a babble of outlandish tongues and a terrible smell, too. Even out here in the fresh air the smell of unwashed bodies wafted across to us.
    It was cold and bleak on the dockside. The canopy did nothing to protect us from the swirling mist. The flannel petticoat and wool camisole that worked quite well against our own wintery winds did little to stop this kind of cold. I wrapped Bridie inside my shawl and we shivered together. We inched forward, one step at a time but that big brick entrance never seemed to get any closer. More ferries arrived. More people crowded onto the dock. More languages, different smells. If there were all these newcomers in one day, how could the city hold them all? Where would they sleep when they came ashore? How many more days before New York was full to bursting?
    I kept my mind on such puzzles rather than on what might happen to me until we entered the building. Uniformed guards stood at the doors. "In you go, my fine cattle. We have nice pens for you inside," one of the guards called cheerfully, grinning to his fellow guard as he shoved the foreigners forward.
    "Leave your baggage down there and look lively," he snapped to us. "Don't worry, it will be quite safe. That's what we have watchmen for," as some people protested being parted from their worldly goods. We were shown into a vast baggage room, where we piled our bags and bundles before we were sent