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 Tom headed up the gangplank. The ship was teeming with
settlers from all over Europe. This was the
last stop before the open sea.
It was a cargo freighter, which had unloaded its riches from
the colonies and then loaded up with settlers for the return
trip. Not a decent
place for women and children, and certainly not set up for human
cargo. The ship was
cold, damp, crowded and filthy. If Tom made it through this
journey, without sickness or starvation taking over, he would get to
America.
As the ship sailed away, he stared back at the
misty, emerald hues of the Irish shore and burned his last vision of
Ireland
into his mind and heart.
When the last vestige of the green mist had slipped away, he
was suddenly gripped and sick with fear. Tom hastily leaned over the
rail and then threw up.
He glanced around, praying no one had seen him retching. He longed for Seamus to be
at his side, the way he always had been. He had never felt more alone
in his life. He buried
his head on his arm and his lips moved
silently ....
“Hail....Mary, full of grace..."
Copyright 2003 Connie Lynne
Smith
All Rights Reserved
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