Sons of an Ancient Glory (16 page)

“Perhaps you should at least consider it,” she ventured.

“Perhaps,” he murmured, glancing away.

There was so much Finola longed to say to him. She ached to tell him that she felt his pain, wanted to ease it somehow. She wished, too, she could communicate how brave she thought he was, how much she admired him for all he had managed under such impossible circumstances.

But it would sound too much like pity, and she suspected that if there was anything Morgan could not bear from her, it was pity. So she simply squeezed his hands once more and, with some difficulty, hauled herself to her feet. She even managed a smile at her own clumsiness.

“I think I would like to go outside after all,” she said, forcing a note of brightness into her voice. “I'll go and change. You will go with me?”

He hesitated, then nodded. “Aye. Sister Louisa has taken my recitations.” He paused, studying her. “Thank you, lass.”

At Finola's puzzled look, he added, “For caring. Thank you for caring.”

Finola had to fight back her own tears. “I do…care, Morgan. I care very much.”

Turning then, she hurried from the room before she foolishly said more than she intended.

Some come with rattle of drum…
Joyous epiphanies.
Others gain a place through secret pain
And silent agonies.

A
NONYMOUS

New York City

Late June

P
erched on the edge of her bunk, Quinn O'Shea held her breath against the foul stench that seemed to ooze from the hull of the
Norville
. It was early morning, and although she could not see outside, she sensed that the day was fine.

They had put in at New York Harbor five days ago, but instead of being allowed on deck they had been held “between ships,” as the sailors referred to steerage class, the entire time since their arrival. Steerage passengers like Quinn had been set to scrubbing and scraping with sea water and lye, trying to rid their part of the ship of its accumulated filth and vicious odors.

As if any amount of scrubbing could hope to rid this rotting old heap of its stink,
Quinn thought with a scowl. She was quite certain that the disgusting smells of decay, unwashed bodies, and an entire host of treacherous diseases were imbedded in the damp wood of the hull forever.

Ignoring the blather of the women nearby, most of whom were either arguing the merits of America or exchanging fearful imaginings about what lay ahead, Quinn turned back to her letter writing. She already had at least a dozen or more letters ready to post to Molly, but she went on with today's, for she had promised her younger sister not to spare even the smallest detail about the voyage.

She had not kept that promise, however; not entirely. There were
some
things about this ocean journey she would keep to herself, for fear of frightening the girl. When the time came, she didn't want Molly to balk at making the trip.

But for the most part, Quinn had written honestly of the ship's crowded conditions, the spoiled rations and food shortages, the miserable damp cold, and the seasickness—the relentless, enervating seasickness that had stricken so many, but which somehow Quinn had managed to escape. She was determined that Molly must not be allowed to harbor unreasonable expectations about the crossing, for wouldn't that only make the truth more bitter still?

At least for now, however, Quinn would keep some things to herself: the worms and vermin in the food stores, the stench of vomit, the dysentery that had become epidemic by the third week of the voyage, the countless dead bodies tossed out to sea like so much worthless rubbish, the ever-present terror of almost everyone in steerage throughout the journey.

…It is rumored that today we will all be inspected for disease. Everyone has been busy praying that no serious
illness will be found among us, for otherwise we could be kept at hospital for weeks.

The sooner we can get off this coffin ship the better, to my way of thinking! I am eager to manage a bit of privacy
and begin looking for a position. The sooner I find work, the sooner I'll be able to send you your passage money.

Remember now, Molly, you must be patient and have faith, for it will take me some time to locate a position….

Her little sister would have to have faith for them both, Quinn thought grimly, for she had precious little left, once the law and Millen Jupe had finished with her.

She ended the letter, addressing the envelope to Molly alone. For an instant she held the pen suspended above her sister's name, then went on in firm strokes. There was no use in adding her mother's name, after all. To Mum, she was as good as dead, and there was no changing the way things were.

It was midafternoon when word came down that the ship would more than likely be held in quarantine.

All sick passengers would be taken to the hospital on Staten Island for detention, while “further medical inspections” were continued aboard the
Norville
.

Quinn had already suffered one shipboard medical examination, and, even though she knew nothing at all about such procedures, she was sure it had been little more than a hoax. With at least eight hundred or more passengers aboard the
Norville
, it would have required an entire team of medical inspectors to do a thorough job. Instead, one health officer and two assistants had made a brief walk-through of the ship, nodding or jabbing a finger at those passengers who were either blind, deaf and dumb, or simply too ill to stand. Quinn had passed the preliminary inspection as slick as goose grease.

But now they were coming through again, and this time they seemed to be taking a closer look at some of the steerage passengers. Quinn knew for a fact that the ship's officers had hidden several passengers before the inspections even began, especially those who appeared to be suffering from communicable diseases, such as smallpox and typhus. Evidently, the ship's master was willing to resort to any deception at all if it would avoid a long delay in quarantine.

Obviously, they hadn't considered her cough a serious threat. Nor did she. Who would
not
have a bit of a cold after spending more than a month in the frigid, wet belly of a rotting old ship like the
Norville
?

But the incessant hack made her vulnerable. When the fish-eyed medical inspector jerked a finger in her face and pronounced her “fevered, probably consumptive,” her heated protests met only a stony stare. The inspector moved on, and Quinn was herded to one side with the others who had been culled from the steerage list. Moments later, they were ordered to board the skiffs below for transportation to the hospital.

Like a condemned prisoner, Quinn could now only stand and watch with growing horror as others were singled out for the same fate. Families were torn apart during the selection process: wailing mothers dragged away from their children, husbands separated from their anguished wives, screaming orphans snatched from one another's arms.

It was like being trapped in a nightmare, where the ill and afflicted were punished for their infirmities by being sent off on a journey to hell. And their loved ones could do nothing but stand and watch, looking on as their families marched off to their doom.

It was almost dark when the crowded launch swung around in the shallow water just off Staten Island. The patients for the hospital were ordered out of the boat, and Quinn immediately found herself plunged knee-deep in water. Nearly losing her footing, she hoisted her small poke holding her letters to Molly and her one change of clothes as high as she could manage while she scrambled for the shore.

Suddenly, she heard a child cry out behind her. Whipping about, she saw a small girl with panicked eyes submerged almost to her neck in the water.

“Mum! Mum! Help me, Mum!”
Flailing her hands, the child bobbed erratically as she screamed.

Quinn lunged forward in the water, thinking of nothing but the child. Without warning, she slipped, losing her balance. In sick horror, she saw her parcel sail out of her arms and into the river.

Quinn staggered, grasping for the small poke that held her few meager belongings and the letters over which she had labored for weeks. But it was already sinking from view.

For a moment she could only stare in disbelief. Then the child's shrill cry roused her, and she again started toward the little girl. By now, however, others had reached the panicked child, and a woman, whom Quinn took to be the mother, had her firmly under the arms and was pulling her to shore.

Quinn turned and headed back, finally collapsing on the beach, out of breath and badly shaken from the loss of her things. All her letters were lost to her—and to Molly! Moreover, she now hadn't a clean change of clothing to her name! How could she apply for a position looking like a tinker?

But she had no time to mourn her misfortune. An official-looking man wearing an armband marched up and immediately began to herd everyone up the beach toward the hospital.

In the gloom of early dark, Tompkinsville, as it was called, appeared a dismal, squat structure, much like a prison. Even before they reached the building, Quinn's senses were almost overwhelmed by some deadly, vile stench that must, she was certain, pervade this entire island.

The smell of death. A great tide of death, all about her, waiting to suck her into its ugly mouth.

Quinn's stomach rebelled. Her mind scrambled for a way of escape, for as sure as she was standing on the shores of America, this was a death-island!

Just when she would have bolted and run, big Bobby Dempsey came up beside her. “Don't be a-scared, lassie,” he said in his deep, lumbering voice. “We don't need to be staying in this place too very long.”

Surprised, Quinn looked up at him. “Why, whatever are
you
doing here, Bobby Dempsey? Sure, and there's nothing sickly about you!”

The burly man shifted his weight, staring down at the rock-strewn beach. “They said I looked to be an eejit, said I'd maybe have to go back to Ireland.”

Quinn stared at him in astonishment. Bobby Dempsey was a big, clumsy rock of a man, with eyes as sad as an orphaned pup set deep in a face that looked to have been battered in one too many faction fights. He was a bit dull and slow-thinking, no great bargain as brains went, but he was no idiot either and didn't deserve to be humiliated in such a way.