Young Writers Society

On our second week at sea, the others that were fleeing Ireland and I decided to call our ship The Coffin Ship. We were crowded together, with barely a square foot to ourselves. If you moved, somebody took your spot. The ones, such as me, who had landed a spot near the railing, were the lucky ones. You could be seasick without throwing up on your own shoes. A different sickness was floating around the boat. It wasn’t the same that was killing our families back in Ireland, although it did kill half of us. It left you so weak that you could hardly sit up and gave you a nasty case of diarrhea for a week. I had a mild case of it, so I was one of the lucky ones that survived.

At least two died each day. We had to throw them into the ocean, with no ceremony, just a prayer. It kept the disease from spreading. One of the most horrifying burials was the burial of a little baby, no more than three months old. They didn’t even need two strong sailors to do it. One burly sailor held it on one hand and chucked it as far as he could. This was to keep the body from getting into the engines and clogging everything up. It still made me lose my small lunch of oatmeal.

For the duration of the ride, I stayed huddled in my little corner, hiding the necklace from others. I did talk to a girl. She was ten, and was coming with her older brother who was somewhere on the other side of the ship. We mostly shared our dreams of what would happen when we finally got to America. We discussed what the Statue of Liberty, the Beacon of Freedom herself, would look like. The girl insisted that the statue would shine with a white light, and be completely made of marble. I knew that She was made of metal, copper actually, so I knew that it would shine with the color of a new penny. But the girl’s vision was lovely, and I often saw just that in my dreams. A glowing pure white head coming out of fog to reveal the shining city of New York.

At the end of our third week, the girl’s disease took a turn for the worse. She looked just like Mama as she held my hand, clinging to me as the last breaths of life came out of her. “Promise me that you’ll live a good life in New York. Do it for both of us.”

I clung to her hand and said, once again, “I promise.” We went to sleep clinging to each other’s hands. She didn’t wake up.

I couldn’t look as a pair of sailors flung her lifeless body into the ocean. All I could do for the next few days was cry silently and dream of a new life in America.

After a week, the twenty of us that were left saw something in the early afternoon. It was sunny for once and there in the distance, on the horizon, just a speck really, was the Statue of Liberty! We all cheered, threw up our caps, and hugged each other. We hugged, danced with, and kissed random strangers. But they weren’t really strangers anymore. They were the people that had ridden to freedom with me. I tried to memorize faces, mostly young teenagers, such as myself, and adults. The captain of the ship came to tell us in person that we were to arrive the next morning.

I could hardly sleep that night. I was too excited, too anxious to finally step onto a free land, where even a lowly Irishwoman like me could find a job. I did manage to drift off, but all too soon, I could hear shouts of “There She is! There She is!”

We all crowded to one side of the railing, staring up at The Statue of Liberty, Lady Freedom, The Beacon of Hope and Opportunity! Oh, She looked marvelous! The torch in her hand seemed to point upward at God, thanking Him for making such a wonderful country. As She loomed closer to us, we leaned back as far as we could, so that we could keep an eye on her face.

Finally, She was behind us and we gave up. Staring straight ahead, I saw a pier that we were to land in and behind that was New York City.

The city was fine buildings made of wood and brick. The street was cobblestoned and I could see well off ladies and gentlemen walking quickly past the pier, away from the hideous stench of the smoke from the ships and the strong smell of fish. Horses pulled carts and carried police officers on the streets. Important looking people wearing suits and dripping in silk ties, golden pocket watches, and jewels strolled the streets, ducking into important looking buildings.

A boy who was at least three years older than me got tears in his eyes and said, “Thank God Almighty. It’s better than I could have ever hoped for.”

We settled into the dock, and the ramp started to go down.