Murphy's Law (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #1)

"When can we go up and wave good-bye?" Seamus asked.


"I'm sorry, but they won't let us," I said, stroking back his hair the way I always did to my youngest brother. "It seems that we have to stay down here, because we haven't paid enough for one of the fancy cabins."

"But she'll be looking for us. I said I'd wave." He had been so brave until now--the man of the family, staggering across the dock with his big bundle. Now his lip quivered.

"She'd never have picked us out among all those people," I said. "She'll think she sees us waving with everyone else up there."

We had no idea when we left the dock but a gentle motion finally gave us the hint that we were at sea.

Four

Anyone who thinks that Atlantic crossings are glamorous should have traveled with us on that ship.

It wasn't terrible--it was clean enough and they fed us, a big pile of bread and butter, tea and coffee, plus a hot meal once a day. When

I say hot meal, it was actually a big pot of stew, dumped at one end of a table with the cry, "Come and get it while it's hot." Some people said it was better than they got at home. I don't know what their homes were like but it certainly wasn't as good as the meals I used to make for my da and the boys. But it was edible. I'll say that for it.

The worst thing for me was the darkness and lack of air. I was always in the open air. It was a two-mile walk from our cottage to the village and I did that most days. On fine days I was only inside when I had to be. My mother always said I was too wild for a girl, and I suppose I was--always clambering over rocks or even swimming in the ocean when nobody was looking.

We steerage passengers were allowed up on deck for an hour a day. The rest of the time we were locked away down in the hold, with the constant throb of the engine and the stale smell of unwashed bodies and worse. We were all herded together in a big open area with pipes running across the ceiling, lit by a couple of electric lightbulbs. There were benches around the walls and two long tables in the middle where we had our meals. The tables had sides to them, like trays--to stop the crockery from sliding off in bad weather, I supposed. There was nothing to do but to sit and hope that the time passed quickly and pray that the sea didn't get too rough. The children quickly found other little ones to play with. Seamus was off right away with the other boys. They'd huddle in the farthest corner, playing marbles, or disappear down the passages, trying to find ways out of our prison--only to be caught and sent back by the stewards. I didn't try to stop him. The children needed something to keep them occupied and it was good to see the boy playing.

Bridie, on the other hand, clung to my skirts and refused any suggestion that she join the other girls. She hid behind me when other children made friendly overtures and sat playing quietly with a sorry apology for a rag doll and a few scraps of fabric, which were her treasures.

We adults sat around with nothing to do, waiting for the next meal to break the monotony. The men smoked or played cards. Some of the women knitted and gossiped. I kept myself to myself. I didn't want to risk making any kind of slip

of the tongue. So I soon got the reputation of being standoffish and snooty, but I didn't care. Just let me get as far as New York and I would be free.

By the end of the first day that gentle swell had grown to a real Atlantic roll that sent plates and cups sliding down the tables. People started to feel sick. Then I realized what the other smell had been--it was stale vomit. Myself, I believe that more people were made sick by the smell and lack of fresh air than by the rolling. I tried to tell the steward that, when he came to swab up the floor for the tenth time.

"If you'd only let some good fresh air into this place, or let us take a quick stroll on deck," I said.

"If I let you up on deck, you'd have the ll'uns blown away in no time at all," he said, not unkindly.