Murphy's Law Read Online Free PDF Page A

Another few yards and I'd be safely on that ship. I lifted Bridie into my arms, so that her little body hid my face from the police.
    Another man was checking names off a list at the bottom of the gangway. "Kathleen O'Connor, son Seamus, and daughter Bridie," I said, loudly. "Here are the tickets."
    He checked me off and we went up the gangway, into the ship.
    It was dark inside there and the line of people swept us along into a sort of staging area. It smelled unpleasant--the same kind of boiled cabbage and
    urine smell as the rooming house had, but with something added that I couldn't quite identify.
    "Name?" A uniformed figure barked at me as we drew level with a desk.
    "O'Connor. Kathleen, Seamus, Bridie."
    "Just yourself and the two children, then?" "That's right."
    "And your husband? Where is he?"
    I was tempted to tell him it was none of his business. After all, we'd paid for the tickets, hadn't we? "He's in New York. Waiting for us."
    "He'd better be," the man said. "If he doesn't come to collect you from Ellis Island, they'll just send you straight home again. They don't want women and children who'll be a burden on the state."
    "He'll be there," I said. "It was he who sent us the tickets. Now if you'd please direct us to our cabin, so that we can leave our belongings and then get up on deck to wave good-bye."
    The man turned to another who was standing in the shadows behind him. "Hark at her," he chuckled. "Who do you think you are--lady muck? Women's quarters are down that way. Find yourself a bunk. You can take any one that's not occupied. And as for going up on deck--steerage means steerage. Next."
    I had been dismissed. The crowd behind me shoved us forward. There was nothing for it but to lead the children down the dimly lit passage. Bridie had begun to get scared. "I want to go back to Mammy," she wailed.
    "Remember our little secret?" I whispered. "You have to call me Mammy until we get to New York."
    "I want my real mammy."
    I looked around, hoping that nobody was listening. The passage was lined with cubicles, half shut off with slatted wooden doors. Inside each cubicle I could dimly make out six bunks-- three on either side. Most of them seemed to be occupied by shadowy figures.
    "Is there any space in here?" I demanded several times. At last someone replied, ungraciously. "Top bunk and you're welcome to it."
    "Where do we sleep, then?" Seamus asked.
    A hollow eyed-woman poked her head out from the bottom bunk. "The children have to share with us, unless the boy is over twelve."
    "I'm eight," Seamus said.
    "Well, then, he belongs in here," the woman said. "Send him up the ladder and he can lift up your belongings."
    "Go on up, Seamus," I said. "Stay up there with our things and I'll go check to see if there's anywhere better."
    With Bridie still draped around my neck and holding on for dear life, I went up and down the hallway until I was convinced that there were no better quarters lurking around any corner. I helped Bridie up the ladder and examined the bunk. There was a thin mattress, nothing more. No sheets, blankets, nothing. "Where do we get our bed linen?" I asked a neighbor.
    "Bed linen?" Her chuckle ended in a rasping cough. "You're supposed to bring your own, dearie. Didn't they tell you that?"
    I opened the bundle and found that there was a sheet in it, but no blanket. My shawl would have to do then. I was just trying to stow away our belongings on the little shelf at the end of our bunk when I became aware of a rhythmic thudding sound that echoed from the very walls. It was the ship's engines, now working up enough steam for us to sail.
    "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