York? No little children like millstones around your neck? No man to fetch and carry for?"
I said nothing.
"Then I'm thinking we could come to a very nice deal that might suit both of us, Mrs. Kathleen O'Connor, or whatever your name is."
"A deal--why would I be wanting to do a deal with you?"
"Because you've no choice?" He was still smiling. I longed to slap his face again, but he had me pinned against the wall, my wrist firmly in his grasp. "If they find out who you really are, they'll send you back again, quick as a wink. Likely as not, they'll send the children back, too. What a sad thing that would be ... and I'm the only one who knows the truth."
I looked at him with loathing. "So what are you trying to say?" I managed to get the words out evenly. I wasn't going to let him know I was afraid of him.
"I'm saying that you'll be earning good money in the city, a smart woman like you. Enough money to share with an old friend--an old friend who knew how to keep his mouth shut." He was grinning.
"You're despicable," I said. "If you're thinking that I'd pay you a penny--"
"But if you don't, you'll never be safe, will you? And I tell you what, if you play your cards right, you won't have to pay the cost of a room. Because I'm thinking that life could be terrible lonely for a man in a big new country. And terrible cold nights, too. A man needs a warm body at night beside him, and you've as fine a little warm body as I've ever laid eyes on."
That awful hooded leer again.
"Not if you were the last man in America," I said. I wrenched my wrist free of him. "So go ahead and do your worst, Mr. O'Malley. You might find it's you who gets sent back as a troublemaker and a liar!"
I shoved him away from me and ran down the hall to my bunk. Let him do his worst, I kept telling myself. Why should anyone believe him? But my heart was pounding. Somehow I had to get through tomorrow and deliver these children to their father. I'd come this far. I wasn't going to let myself be beaten by the likes of O'Malley.
Six
Next morning we were woken early, given mugs of coffee, and shepherded up to the deck, where they pinned labels to our clothes, like so many pieces of luggage. The tags bore our names and the name of the ship we'd arrived on. I suppose they had to do this for all the people who couldn't read or write, but it was all I could do to keep my mouth shut about the indignity. I had to remind myself that today was probably the most important day of my life. What happened to me today would change the outcome of my whole future. I couldn't afford to make any slips. I had studied all the details on Kathleen's form until I knew her family particulars by heart. Now I just had to make sure I was in the line ahead of O'Malley and safely through before he got near the inspectors. I had even toyed with various stories in my own defense--my favorite being the jilted lover who would say anything to make sure I didn't join my beloved husband again. Enough people had seen me slap his face on the ship to bring credibility to that story!
We were jostled across the deck, down a gangplank, and finally onto a ferry boat that had moored alongside. They kept on loading until we stood there like a lot of sardines, packed so tight that we couldn't turn around. Bridie started to cry.
"They're pushing me. I want to go home." "But your daddy's waiting for us," I whispered. "In a little while we'll be going home with him, and you'll be warm and have good things to eat. ..."
And what would I be doing? Would I just deliver the children and he'd say thanks and I'd be off on my own, trying to find a place to sleep in New York City? I'd lived on my wits so far and everything had worked out. I'd just have to pray that it kept on doing so!
When the ferry was as fully loaded as possible we set off across the harbor, away from the city. After yesterday's winter sunshine, today was filled with dense, dank fog and the captain sounded our foghorn every few minutes, to be answered by neighboring mournful toots. The damp cold was worse than the brisk wind of the day before. It seemed to get into our very bones and we huddled 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 up a long flight of steps. Men in white coats stood at the top of the steps, watching us. As immigrants passed them, they stepped forward and wrote letters in white chalk on the people's backs. When we drew level with them they looked at us but didn't write anything. I wasn't sure whether that was good or bad.
Then suddenly someone said, "Eye inspection." Before I could react, I was grabbed and yelled out in pain as a sharp instrument was dug into my eyelid, turning it backward. Bridie screamed as they came toward her and wriggled out of the way of the assault.
"Check needed on the child," one inspector said to his fellow and wrote a letter in chalk on Bridie's back.
"Do you speak English?" the man demanded. "As well as you do," I replied.
"Oh yes." He examined my tag. "The Majestic, from Liverpool. Okay. Take the kid over to that room on your left. They'll want to check her eyes before you can go any further."
We joined the line at the door. A doctor in a white coat made me sit Bridie on the table, then his assistant held her while he turned back her eyelids.
"Both eyes are red," he commented to the assistant. "Possible trachoma. Need to keep her for observation."
"What do you mean, you need to keep her?" I demanded.
"In the hospital observation unit," the man said expressionlessly. "If it's trachoma, she'll be sent back where she came from."
"Of course her eyes are red," I exclaimed indignantly. "She's been kept standing outside in the bitter cold, hasn't she, and she's been crying. When she cries, she rubs her eyes and they get worse. There's nothing wrong with her eyes. They're as bright and clear as the light of day itself."
"You Irish could sweet-talk the hind leg off a donkey," the man said, but he managed a ghost of a smile. "Wait on the seats over there and bring her back in an hour."
It was the best I could hope for but it meant that my shipmates would have gone ahead of me, both Michael and O'Malley. I sat the children down, instructing them not to move whatever happened and followed the crowd into the great hall they called the registry room. The entire room was full of wooden benches, and the benches were full of people. I could see now why the guard had made the joke about cattle. The benches were separated by iron railings, and so the whole effect was of the stock pens on market day.
"Where do you think you're going?" A guard grabbed my arm. "Back into the line and wait your turn."
"I just have to talk to a shipmate," I pleaded. "That's what they all say." He frowned at me as if sizing me up, "Although I could be
persuaded to get you through all this in a hurry. ..."
"You could? That would be wonderful." "For a small fee, of course. Shall we say twenty dollars?"
He wanted a bribe! I looked around to see who might have overheard. Other guards were standing nearby. Now I started to wonder--was this whole place corrupt? If I had to bribe somebody before they'd release me, then we'd be here forever. Unless they had listened to O'Malley. Then I'd be sent straight back to Ireland. I tried to spot his bright red cravat among the throng, but it was impossible. There must have been close to a thousand people in that room and more streaming in all the time.
I hurried back to the children, who hadn't moved an inch, and I watched the clock on the wall until the hour was up. Then I took Bridie back to the doctor.
"You see," I said triumphantly. "Take a look at her eyes now. Not a speck of red in them, is there? Tell me when you've seen brighter eyes?"
He laughed as he looked at them. "Bright as the light of day, like you said," he said. "Off you go and good luck to you. You're lucky to have a very persistent mother, little one."
"Oh, but she's not my ..." The last of Bridie's sentence was lost as I whisked her away. That was close. I'd have to make the children understand that I had to play the part of their mother for just a while longer.
We joined the line to enter the registry room. "Name and ship?" An inspector turned over my label as if he was delivering a package. "O'Connor, Majestic, huh? The bench for names beginning with O is full at the moment. Sit over there until we tell you to move forward."
I perched on the end of a bench with the children. As we sat there, watching people move past us, I had time to take in the very size of it. I'd never seen a church even half as big as that room--or as high, either. If you looked upward toward the vaulted ceiling, it was like being in a great cathedral. A huge American flag was draped from the balcony, which ran all the way around the hall. A babble of languages surrounded me and rose to echo back from that high ceiling.
Every so often a name was called and someone ahead of us got up, looking around anxiously before shuffling away down the aisle, but the hall never seemed to empty out. Then, by midafternoon, when the children were complaining about being hungry and I could feel the pangs of hunger myself, a buzz of excitement went around the great hall. Figures appeared on the balcony above--men in top hats and finely dressed ladies. They stood there, peering down at us. Was this the afternoon amusement for the New York upper classes--to take the boat to Ellis Island and see what riffraff had landed today? Looking around me, I had to admit that we did rather resemble a zoo. Mothers had babies at their breasts and little ones climbing over them. Men were to be seen scratching themselves. The Majestic crossing had not been pleasant, but at least we had come through with no vermin on us. We could give a prayer of thanks for that.
When quite a large crowd had gathered on the balcony, a voice addressed us through a megaphone. "To all of you newly arrived in our great country, welcome. Willkommen. Benvenuto. I am Edward McSweeney, administrator of Ellis Island, and today we are honored to host our neighbors from New York City. His Honor, the mayor of New York, and other dignitaries from the city, have come across the chilly harbor to perform the official ceremony of dedication of these new buildings. As you may know, the old Ellis Island burned down three years ago. We have now built it up again, bigger, better, and fireproof!"
He waited for applause, not seeming to realize that most of his audience didn't understand a word he was saying. There was polite clapping from the ladies and gentlemen on the balcony.