Escape From Home Read Online Free PDF Page A

taken Mr. Morgan’s money!
    The three stayed as close together as they could. Amazed by all they saw, they kept reaching out to touch one another lest they be pulled apart.
    â€œLook there!” Maura cried with excitement.
    Mrs. O’Connell and Patrick stopped to look where she was pointing. It was a poster on a wall. Bold black letters blazoned:
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    C ORK AND L IVERPOOL S TEAM P ACKET C OMPANY
D IRECT TO L IVERPOOL
    Â 
    On the poster was a picture of a ship at sea, its smokestack pouring forth a black cloud, side wheels clearly churning. Below were smaller pictures of other boats next to times for departure. At the bottom of the bill, in the biggest letters of all, it read:
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    10 SHILLINGS ONLY!!!
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    â€œAre we to go on one of those ?” Patrick asked.
    Maura, after first looking about to make sure she was not watched, reached into her dress and removed the pins that held the packet containing their money and tickets. Sorting through the papers, she tried to find the right tickets.
    â€œAye,” she said nervously, a finger resting on one line of the poster. “The Queen of the West ,” she read. “Six hundred and thirty-six tons. Three hundred and fifty deck passengers. That’s the very one,” she said, thankful Father Mahoney had taught her how to read.
    Mrs. O’Connell turned her eyes toward the steady flow of people passing. “Are they all going?” she asked in wonderment.
    â€œI think so,” Maura said.
    â€œThere will be no one left in Ireland,” her mother whispered sadly.
    Patrick said, “Hadn’t we better find the boat?”
    But Maura had no idea where to turn. The streets of Cork were so close, the buildings so tall—Patrick counted some of five stories—it was impossible to see any distance. Maura worried that if the other two knew how tense and confused she felt, they’d abandon their journey in an instant. She led them blindly. Suddenly Patrick halted. “Look!” he cried, pointing ahead along the street.
    It was Mr. Morgan, and he was moving in their direction. With him were two armed soldiers.
    â€œMerciful God, help us now!” Maura exclaimed. Pulling their mother along, they dived into a narrow side alley and ran its length. Mrs. O’Connell coughed and gasped for breath. The alley emptied out upon a large avenue on which a crowd of emigrants was milling with their bundles, boxes, and wagons full of possessions. Maura, hoping they would not be noticed among them, led her brother and mother into their midst. She was afraid to look at her mother. Instead, she glanced at Patrick. He was grim, white-faced.
    As the crowd pressed forward, Maura began to wonder if anyone knew where he was going. Then they turned a corner. The river—some two hundred yards wide here—was before them again. To the right were many ships tied to the quay. Some had funnels smoking like the ships on the poster. The quay itself was piled high with barrels and crates. Cattle and horses were also there, milling about. Above, gulls swooped and squawked as if scolding people for their confusion.
    â€œDo you see Mr. Morgan anywhere?” Maura asked.
    â€œNot a sign,” a thoroughly chastened Patrick replied.
    Maura searched desperately right and left. To buoy their spirits she kept saying, “This way,” and continued to move with the crowd along Merchant Quay.
    It was Patrick who sang out, “Look over there!” Across the river a wooden sign had been erected. It bore the name they were looking for:
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    C ORK AND L IVERPOOL S TEAM P ACKET C OMPANY
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    â€œBlessed Saint Anthony,” Maura cried in relief. “That’s where our ship should be.”
    They hurried back across the river, over the same bridge they had traveled before, then moved on to St. Patrick’s Quay.
    Sitting behind a small table beneath the sign was a burly, ill-shaven man dressed in the wrinkled uniform of a