The two of them did as instructed, winding through the building and into a wooden cubicle, where they walked by a doctor who asked if they were ill and motioned them on when Kiara replied they were not. A man at the end of the table signed a paper saying they’d passed inspection.
‘‘Ya weren’t gone very long,’’ the coachman remarked when they reappeared.
‘‘That doctor did na even check us,’’ Paddy told him. ‘‘He jus’ asked if we was sick and told us we were fit to sail. He said we should hurry; the ferry leaves in less than an hour.’’
The coachman bade them farewell as a crewman relieved them of their trunk. Once the passengers were loaded onto the ferry and they had moved away from the shore, the coachman waved, tipped his hat, and strode off toward the carriage. Kiara felt an odd sense of loss watching the man leave. Perhaps because he was their last connection with their homeland.
Once aboard the ship, Kiara waited at the rail until a crewman loaded their trunk. ‘‘I’ll stow this fer ya, and ya can claim it when we arrive. Ya can take yar smaller baggage with ya.’’ He led them down a dark companionway to a long, gloomy space beneath the main deck. The hold was already teeming with noisy passengers.
‘‘Ya get two spaces,’’ he said, pointing to a six-foot wooden square built into the ship’s timbers along one side of the hold.
‘‘Wait! We’re entitled to a cabin. Our coachman was told the steerage was full. We paid six pounds and we should be havin’ a cabin.’’
The crewman gave a laughing snort. ‘‘They tell that same story to ever’one. The only cabin on this ship is the captain’s. There’s only steerage for passengers. Like I told ya earlier, ya each get a space.’’ He held his hands about a foot and a half apart.
He turned to walk away, but Kiara grasped his muscled arm with her slender fingers. ‘‘Wait! Ya mean that’s all the space we’ll be gettin’ to sleep on?’’
The sailor gave an affirmative nod. ‘‘That space is yar home until we arrive in America. Once we’ve set sail, ya can come on deck for a bit o’ air,’’ he said, then quickly took his leave.
‘‘Psst. You! Come over here.’’
Kiara looked toward the corner, where an auburn-haired girl was motioning her forward. The girl continued waving her arm in wild circular motions until Kiara and Paddy began walking in her direction. She bobbled her head up and down as though her frantic movements would encourage them onward as they zigzagged through the mass of passengers.
‘‘Do ya have bunk space yet?’’ the girl asked.
Kiara wagged her head back and forth. ‘‘No. We were supposed to ’ave a cabin, but they lied to us. Six pounds apiece they charged for passage.’’
‘‘They lie to ever’one. Come on, ya can share this space with me. Throw that baggage on the floor over there and join me on this stick o’ wood we’ll call a bed until we arrive in America. Ya can put your satchels on here. That way no one else will take yar space.’’
Kiara did as the girl instructed. ‘‘I’m Kiara O’Neill, and this is my brother, Paddy.’’
‘‘Bridgett Farrell. Pleased ta meet ya. Do ya have family in America?’’
‘‘No. We have only each other. Our ma and pa died this year—the famine.’’
The girl looked sympathetic. ‘‘Mine too. I got me an aunt, some cousins, and a granna livin’ in America. I’m gonna join them and get me a job in the mills. Granna says there’s work to be had if I come. Me cousins work for the Corporation, and they saved up the money for me passage. Where do ya plan to make yar home? In Boston?’’
‘‘No. We’re goin’ to a town called Lowell.’’
Bridgett slapped her leg and smiled. ‘‘That’s where I’m gonna be livin’. Are ya gonna work in the mills too?’’
‘‘I don’ know nothin’ about no mills. We’re gonna be servants on an estate. We indentured ourselves fer five years to pay fer our passage.’’ The complexity of her decision weighed heavily once she had spoken the words to Bridgett. Actually speaking the words of what she had done caused the full force of her decision to crash in upon her. ‘‘I think I’ll go up and watch as we sail.’’
Bridgett nodded. ‘‘Ya go ahead now. Me and Paddy will stay with the belongin’s and save our space.’’
When the ship finally heaved and swayed out into the Atlantic a short time later, Kiara stood at the rail and watched her beautiful Ireland fade out of sight. All that she held dear was left behind save Paddy. She’d never again see the beauty of her homeland, visit with the friends and neighbors whom she held dear, or put a sprig of heather on her ma’s grave. But even if she’d made the wrong decision, there was no turning back now. She shivered against a sudden gust of wind and pulled the warm woolen shawl tightly around her shoulders. ‘‘Selfish lass,’’ she murmured into the breeze.
‘‘Ya should be thankful the good Lord saw fit to save ya from a certain death instead of feelin’ sorry for yarself. If ya hadn’t agreed, ya would na even have this shawl to keep yar body warm.’’
After what seemed an eternity on board the ship, Kiara was more than a little grateful to see the shores of Boston in the distance. So many times she’d been certain they would never make it. Sickness had sent many a stiff, unwashed body overboard to a watery grave, and while it had reduced the number of people on board, it left everyone wondering if they’d be next.
Kiara had entertained Paddy with stories she’d learned as a child—telling him of the fairies and their craftiness, of superstitions that had guided the lives of their people. It had eased the hours of boredom and gave them both a sense of home, which they desperately missed.
‘‘Our people saw that the sun, moon, and stars all went west to die away so that they could be reborn and rise another day,’’ she’d told Paddy at the beginning of their trip. Now, standing at the end of their journey, she wondered if it might be true for people as well. Her journey west had been a small death—an end to the girl she’d once been—a dying to the people she’d loved and known all of her life. Would she be reborn to rise again?
‘‘Just look at it all, Kiara!’’ Paddy exclaimed. ‘‘Fer sure it’s a grand city.’’
‘‘Stay close at hand, Paddy. There’s bound to be pushin’ and shovin’, what with everyone wantin’ to get on dry land again. I don’t want to lose sight of ya among all the others.’’
The boy danced from foot to foot. ‘‘Isn’t it excitin’, Kiara?
We’ve finally arrived at our new homeland.’’
Kiara smiled down at her brother, thankful he hadn’t succumbed to the dysentery contracted by so many of the passengers during their voyage. His health had actually improved on the journey, and she had begun to relax as they drew closer to Boston.
However, just when she had thought there were no other concerns, medical inspectors boarded the ship, and she watched with increasing trepidation as they denied entry to passengers who showed the slightest sign of illness. What if they were refused entry after the long and dreadful voyage? She pulled Paddy into her embrace and issued up a silent prayer the inspectors would find nothing wrong with them.
There was little control as the crowd carried them forward.
Kiara heard Bridgett’s voice and strained to see around the hefty woman in front of her. She smiled at the sight of her new friend, who was jumping and waving from among an assemblage of passengers. Bridgett had pushed ahead, and her group had already passed through the medical inspection. ‘‘Meet me on the dock,’’ she called out.
‘‘Aye,’’ Kiara hollered back.
‘‘Over here! Hurry along now, and let loose of the boy so I can check him. Hand him over, for you’ll not step foot off this ship until he’s been examined,’’ the medical inspector commanded as he tugged at her arm.
Begrudgingly, she loosened her grip and continued praying while they both endured the examination. ‘‘You’ll do,’’ he said, pointing them toward the passengers waiting to disembark.
Kiara flashed the inspe
ctor a smile and grasped Paddy’s hand.
Now that they were in America, where he would have proper nourishment and fresh air, he could flourish and grow into a strong young man. He would be reborn—they both would.
‘‘Move into that line,’’ she said. ‘‘Once we’re on the wharf, we need to be findin’ Bridgett and then locate our trunk. It will likely take a while, but perhaps we can find a place to sit.’’
‘‘Or walk around and explore.’’
‘‘I’ll be wantin’ to remain near the ship. The coachman told me we should stay close at hand while they’re unloadin’.’’
‘‘Why?’’ Paddy asked, his sparkling brown eyes filled with wonderment.
‘‘Because thieves come to the docks, and they steal cargo and trunks that are left unattended. At least that’s what he told me. I do na want to take a chance on losin’ the belongings Lord Palmerston’s servants packed for us. And Ma’s teacup is in there too.
I would rather die than be losin’ Ma’s teacup.’’
‘‘You would?’’
Kiara tousled her brother’s hair and laughed. ‘‘I’m supposin’ that’s an exaggeration, but I would be very sad to lose our only keepsake.’’
‘‘Then we’ll be stayin’ close by the docks and watch carefully for our trunk. Look! There’s Bridgett, and she’s already come across her trunk.’’
The coachman had been correct. A variety of unseemly-looking men wandered the quay, watching with interest while the cargo was unloaded. Occasionally one of the thieves would skulk forward, hoist a trunk, and scurry off without notice. Once the passengers realized what was happening, they began giving chase, sometimes with success but generally not, leaving tearful families lamenting the loss of all their worldly goods.
‘‘There it is!’’ Paddy pointed toward their baggage and rushed from her side.
Kiara caught sight of Bridgett, who was now moving in their direction. It appeared as if she’d convinced a young man to carry her trunk. Both Bridgett and Kiara reached Paddy at the same time. He had planted himself atop the hump-backed trunk and his lips were curved in a smile of pure delight. His enthusiasm was contagious, and Kiara leaned over and pulled him into an approving hug.
‘‘Ya’ve a good eye, Padraig O’Neill,’’ Kiara said.
Bridgett nodded toward a building across from the dock.
‘‘There’s a lady over there what tol’ me where we can buy our tickets to Lowell at the train station. I don’t think it’s far off.’’
‘‘If it’s not far, perhaps we can just drag the trunks along with us.’’
‘‘What if the woman gave me improper directions? We could be draggin’ those trunks until our arms are so weary we can pull them no further. Do ya not think it would be safe for Paddy to stay with the trunks while we go and make arrangements for the rest of our journey?’’
Kiara studied the boy, uncertain whether she should leave him alone.
Paddy’s shoulders squared and he raised himself up straight and tall. ‘‘You and Bridgett can count on me. I’ll protect the trunks with me life.’’
‘‘I’m more concerned about you than any old trunks,’’ she said, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. She knew his young ego would be crushed if she insisted he go with them, so she cautioned him to be careful and hurried off with Bridgett. The train station was exactly where the woman had promised. The ticket master explained that if the train arrived on schedule, it would be leaving for Lowell in an hour.
The two girls nodded in agreement. They purchased the tickets and then followed the man’s directions to find a small shop, where they purchased biscuits and cheese enough to tide them over until their arrival in Lowell. Paddy was still sitting astride the trunk when they returned, with his short legs draped down on either side. The boy looked almost as if he were riding one of Mr.
Connelly’s horses back in Ireland. Kiara smiled and waved. ‘‘I’ve paid for our train tickets and got us some biscuits and cheese,’’ she announced. ‘‘We need to get our trunks to the train station. Jump down and let’s get movin’.’’
‘‘Can I have a biscuit? Me stomach’s growlin’.’’
‘‘Fer sure ya can, but after we get ourselves to the station. We can’t go missin’ our train to Lowell.’’
Paddy nodded. He was such a good-spirited little man, Kiara thought. He understood the need to see to the work first and he never complained. Together they pulled the trunk up and dragged it along behind. Kiara thought it unnaturally heavy, but then again, she was unnaturally tired. She had fretted over most every mile across the ocean—worrying that Paddy would take sick, fearing someone might steal him away and harm him, stewing over whether they’d have enough to eat.
Kiara was blessed when the baggageman came forward to take the trunk from them at the station. Bridgett handed her trunk over as well, then tossed the man a penny. Kiara regretted her inability to offer him the same, but she had no choice. She’d not been given money to waste.
Paddy hurried to find a seat and motioned Kiara to a place by the window. He positioned himself nose against the glass, anxious to be started. Kiara smiled and handed him a piece of cheese and a biscuit. ‘‘And here’s yar lunch, little man.’’
He immediately devoured it, wolfing down the simple fare as though he hadn’t eaten in weeks. It was good to see him with a hearty appetite and feeling well.
‘‘Do ya think there will be someone who can help us find Mr.
Houston’s estate when we get to Lowell?’’ Kiara asked Bridgett.
Her stomach had suddenly begun to tighten into a knot, clamping down upon the biscuit and cheese she had eaten in sharp, jabbing pains.
‘‘Don’ ya be frettin’. Me granna promised they’d be watchin’ for me arrival. They can help ya. Of that I have no doubt.’’
The train lurched forward, then stopped, then lurched again.
The jerky motion caused Kiara to let out a squeal. Her stomach did a funny flip-flop.
‘‘ ’Tis nothin’ amiss,’’ Bridgett told her. ‘‘I’ve been on a train before. It’s always like this. Soon we’ll sail along as smooth as ya please. Why don’t ya have a rest? We’ll be there before ya know it.’’
Bridgett’s words helped calm Kiara’s fears, and the stabbing pain eased enough for the rocking motion of the train to lull her to sleep. When the train hissed and belched to a stop, Kiara jolted awake with a start.
‘‘We’re in Lowell already?’’ Her fear returned tenfold. She could barely swallow.
Bridgett pressed her nose against the train window and peered out onto the platform, her eyes scanning the crowd gathered there.
‘‘Do ya see your granna?’’ Paddy asked.
‘‘No, but they’ll be here. Come on, we need ta be gettin’ off,’’ Bridgett said.
As soon as they were inside the station, Bridgett marched up to the ticket counter and talked to the ticket master. She was there only a few minutes. ‘‘He says there should be a wagon outside ya can hire to take you and the luggage wherever ya need to go. He did na know my granna. Says he’s not acquainted with the Irish.
Kinda insultin’, he was. Come on. I’ll go outside with ya and see if we can get ya on yar way. Don’ ya be fergettin’ to come and see me. My granna says most all the Irish live in the Acre. Ya be rememberin’ that so ya can come visit.’’
Kiara agreed as they walked toward the wagon parked in front of the station. ‘‘Can ya take us to the estate of a Mr. Bradley Houston?’’
The driver looked down from his perch and fixed his gaze on Paddy. ‘‘If you got money, I can get you there.’’
Paddy looked up at the driver with obvious admiration. The man shoved his hat farther back on his head and gave Paddy a grin.
‘‘Get on up here, boy,’’ he said. He jumped down from the wagon, and while he loaded their trunk and satchels in back, Kiara bid Bridgett farewell. Kiara turned in her seat, waving at Bridgett until she could no longer see the girl. She barely kne
w her, yet she felt as though she’d lost yet another member of her family.
The drive to the Houston residence was nearly fifteen minutes by coach, and Kiara was thankful they’d not been forced to walk the distance. The driver tipped his hat, and Kiara walked to the front door while Paddy remained with their luggage. She had barely lifted her hand to knock when the front door flew open and a dour-looking woman pointed them to the rear of the house.
‘‘Not so different from Ireland, is it, Paddy? The likes of us will always be shoved out of sight.’’
Paddy was busy examining their new home. ‘‘It’s not such a big house, is it? Not like Lord Palmerston’s at all. Do ya think this is the right place?’’ the boy asked.
‘‘We’ll know soon enough,’’ Kiara replied. The same austere woman was waiting for them when they arrived at the rear door.
‘‘Good day, ma’am. I’m Kiara O’Neill and this here’s me brother, Padraig. We’ve come from Ireland to work for Mr. Houston.
Here’s our letter of introduction.’’
The woman took the letter and motioned them into the kitchen. ‘‘Wait here.’’ She stopped short and turned back to face them, her features softening. ‘‘Have you eaten? I hear tell there’s many a passenger that starves to death on those coffin ships coming from Ireland.’’
‘‘Aye. We got some biscuits and cheese in Boston,’’ Kiara said.
‘‘But I’m still hungry,’’ Paddy added.
‘‘I’ll have the cook bring you some food. Was Mr. Houston expecting you? He didn’t say a word.’’
Kiara shrugged. ‘‘Lord Palmerston said he wrote to your master.’’
Moments later a man with a receding hairline and pale skin walked into the room. Kiara couldn’t decide if it was his thin lips or long forehead that gave him an unkind appearance. His gaze settled upon her as he held her letter between his finger and thumb and waved it aloft.
‘‘I must admit that even though I received my cousin’s letter, I never expected you to actually arrive in Lowell,’’ he said.
Tracie Peterson & Judith Miller - [Lights of Lowell 01] Page 19
