In the morning, there was a jagged grey strip on the horizon. Bridget, an early riser, was one of the first to see it. For a long moment, she savoured the view. Then, she returned to the hold to tell Alice.
Her friend’s eyes widened as she picked up Delia and danced towards the steps. ‘Let’s go and see America,’ she said.
As the word spread, people poured onto the deck and competed for space. Parents lifted children into the air. Even those who’d barely been able to stir from their bunks made their way up to have a look. The only shame, they agreed, was that such an important day hadn’t been blessed with better weather. The morning was grey, and the breeze carried spits of rain. The sea churned, its spray slapping their faces. But what of it? Their destination was within reach.
‘We could swim to Boston from here,’ said one man, as he hoisted up his son for a better view.
‘That we could,’ said a woman. ‘Before we know it, we’ll be there.’
Their excitement lifted Bridget’s heart. Soon, their new lives would begin.
The crew said the weather would grow stormy and that this might delay their arrival. The warning was enough for some passengers to take shelter in the hold. More remained where they were, anxious not to miss anything.
Hour by hour, the north-easterly wind strengthened until Bridget, always one of the last to leave the deck, decided it would be better to shelter below. The gale kept lifting her skirt, and the rain stung her face. With every gust, the brig gasped and creaked, a reminder of how flimsy it was. How ill-suited to a storm. By this point, the Massachusetts coast was shrouded by the downpour. There was nothing to see.
On her way, she met the sailor who’d first warned that the weather was going to change. He appeared worried. ‘The wind’s blowing us too far to the south,’ he said.
‘What are you going to do?’
‘Everything we can, but we won’t reach Boston today. We’ll have to hope we stay safe, and then we’ll plot a new course tomorrow.’
Down below, the mood remained buoyant. If the rolling of the sea was making people ill, at least they were confident that their journey would soon be over. All they had to do was wait, and they were accustomed to waiting.
Periodically, Bridget and some of the others went up to have a look. Within minutes, they were forced back down again. With every hour, the weather became more violent. Lightning flashed across the sky, followed immediately by growls of thunder.
In the early evening, she noticed that the ship’s sails had been torn and were no longer working. Again, she met the sailor, who explained that they’d dropped both anchors. Nevertheless, the force of the waves continued to push the vessel to the south-west.
For the first time, she was afraid. A sudden vicious gust forced her to cling to one of the masts.
‘Heading towards Cohasset Bay.’
‘Isn’t that good news?’
He paused before speaking again. ‘Maybe . . . if we can avoid the rocks.’
Her fear became more urgent. ‘What can we do?’
‘Pray,’ came his reply. Quickly, he thought better of it. ‘Please don’t say that to the others. There’s a danger they’ll become hysterical.’
‘Should you not talk to them and explain the situation?’
‘No,’ he said, and hurried away.
In the hold, there was growing understanding of their predicament. Several people were saying the rosary. Others were singing a hymn. Alice gripped Delia as though the child was in immediate danger of being torn from her arms. Nearby, a man attempted to reassure his wife. All of this was being done in the dark: no sooner had someone managed to light a candle than the rolling of the ship would extinguish it.
Bridget wondered if she should tell them what she’d learnt. She decided there was nothing to be achieved by causing panic, for panic there would surely be. She was considering what to say to Alice when Eugene Hester entered the hold. Even in the grainy light, she could see that his eyes were as large as those of a cornered animal.
He began to speak, except between the wailing wind and the crying and the singing and the praying, it was hard to hear.
‘Will ye listen to me?’ he roared. ‘If ye value yeer lives, will ye listen to me?’
It took a few seconds, but the commotion died down.
‘They say there’s a danger we could be washed ashore, and the problem is . . . the area we’re in . . . well, there are rocks.’
A woman screamed.
‘Hush,’ snapped a man.
‘How close are we?’ asked someone else.
‘I believe we’re close enough,’ said Eugene. ‘And if we do hit the rocks our chances of survival are poor.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ said Alice to Bridget, in a furious whisper.
‘I didn’t realise,’ she lied.
Already, people were scrambling towards the steps. Others looked to be gripped by fright, unable either to stir or speak. More were too sick to move and would have to remain in the hold no matter what happened. Two men started reciting an act of contrition.
Eugene flapped his long arms as if trying to scare away crows. ‘We need a plan,’ he shouted. ‘We can’t all run onto the deck. That won’t help.’
No one was listening. ‘It’s too late for a plan,’ someone yelled. ‘It’s every man for himself.’
‘Where does that leave the women?’ asked Alice, before kissing Delia’s head. ‘Come on,’ she said to Bridget. ‘We’d best go up and look.’
‘I’m not sure you understand how bad it is.’
‘You stay here if you like. I want to see for myself.’
‘Fine. I’ll – I’ll come with you.’
As stark as Eugene Hester’s words had been, Alice appeared shocked by what she saw. In front of them, the waves were crashing against the rocks, causing great plumes of water to rise into the air. So ferocious was the Atlantic that it looked capable of reaching in, picking someone up and tossing them about. Terrified for their lives, passengers clung to the gunwales. Others huddled in prayer, their precise words lost in the wind. The sky was the greyish brown of dried mud.
I’m going to die like my father, thought Bridget. I’m on a bigger boat, in a different place, but I’ll die the same way.
‘What are we going to do?’ said Alice, wrapping her arms around Delia.
Before she had the chance to answer, the ship was swept forward. Then, with a thunderous crack, it slammed into a wall of stone. A splintering sound filled their ears. The Mary and Elizabeth was going to break apart. Those who had remained below would be dead within minutes. It wouldn’t take much longer for the entire ship to sink.
Despite the spray lashing her face, Bridget noticed activity to their right. She turned and saw several people, Captain Talbot among them, attempting to launch the long boat, a rowing boat, which, in better circumstances, would be used as a tender. While their chances of reaching the shore were slim, staying on the main ship meant certain death.
‘Over there,’ she shouted at Alice, who immediately saw what was happening. They began to run, but a sudden lurch threw them onto the deck. Mercifully, Alice was able to keep hold of Delia. They picked themselves up and proceeded, more carefully this time, towards the long boat. All the while, they were battered and pummelled by the storm. Breathing was almost impossible.
Somehow, the small craft had been eased into the water. It was overcrowded. Bridget counted fourteen people on board: five women, the rest men.
Everything was happening quickly now. If they didn’t move, they would be killed. Stubbornness took hold of her. She had travelled too far and endured too much to accept death without a fight. This was their chance for survival, and she couldn’t let it pass.
Beside her, Alice was crying. ‘Please save my baby,’ she screamed at the people in the smaller boat. ‘Whatever about me, you’ve got to save my baby.’
Throughout, Delia remained mute. Perhaps she was too scared to make a sound.
‘We’re all leaving together,’ said Bridget, doing her best to sound emphatic. No sooner had she spoken than a woman tried to elbow her to one side. The push, though weak, caught her by surprise. She took some seconds to recover. As she did, the Mary and Elizabeth smashed into the rocks again. This collision was even more powerful.
‘If you give Delia to me,’ she said to Alice, ‘you can climb down to the boat. There’s a rope over there.’ She gestured to their left. ‘I’ll pass her to you before climbing down myself.’
Alice hesitated.
‘Go, will you?’ she shouted. ‘You have to trust me. There’s no other way.’
Alice followed her orders. She took hold of the rope and jumped. She almost fell into the water, but, with the help of one of the men, managed to struggle on board.
When Bridget attempted to follow, the woman who’d pushed her a minute before did so again. As the woman clambered onto the long boat, a huge wave toppled the craft and sent everyone spilling into the water.
For a few seconds, Bridget could see Alice’s terrified face. She was trying to reach the upturned boat. Every time it looked as though she was about to do so, it bobbed away again.
Never had Bridget felt so powerless. ‘Please,’ she roared into the wind. ‘Please help.’
But there was no one to come to their aid. When she looked again, Alice had vanished into the froth of the ocean.
Before she could draw breath, the main ship was thrown against the rocks once more. The force sent her staggering back. An almighty groan indicated that the Mary and Elizabeth had been torn asunder.
The ship tipped forward, and Bridget felt water lapping at her feet. The sensation paralysed her. A shrieking sound filled her head. All she could see was black. If she was conscious of anything, it was of the baby pressed tightly to her chest, like a barnacle to a stone.
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered to Delia. ‘I’m sorry.’
The water was enveloping them. As cold as the grave. As dark as purgatory. Soon, it would swallow them.
Memories rained down on her, her thoughts not of what she’d lost but of what she’d had: the happy days at home; John Joe who’d promised to buy her a library of books; Norah who’d brought nothing but joy. Even on this journey she’d had the friendship of a fine woman who’d done her best to raise everyone’s spirits. But Bridget couldn’t dwell on these memories. Nor could she fight any further.
Her story had come to an end.