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The morning dawned, April 9th. The rising sun found crowds of people who’d been waiting since dark had fallen, to be first on the ship, or to get a ticket at a cheaper price. The MacLeans stood together, each guarding a creel or a chest or a sack. They were dressed in their warmest clothes, but still the cold of the early spring morning seeped in.
Neil, seeing Muirne shivering, came close to put an arm around her. “It’s Scotland trying to tell us goodbye,” he said, which made her smile.
“Either that or trying to come with us,” she quipped. She looked over at her brother in the teal-grey light. He did not look much better, despite the days of rest and Jenny’s good food. Muirne wondered if there was to be a health inspection, this side or the other. She sent a quick prayer for Neil to keep in good health.
There was more waiting, as the ship’s crew sought to make room for more passengers to increase the profit from the voyage. In fact, it was past noon and they were all famished when they were visited by Charlie, who’d brought along oatcakes smeared with homemade preserves, and bacon rolls. Other groups looked on enviously, or sent a messenger to procure their own food, as they devoured it all quickly.
“How did ye know we’d not sailed?” Gillan asked.
“How do ye know the sky’s blue?” Charlie replied. “We’ve seen a few friends off now, and they always manage to wait till the end of the day. Not sure why. Leastwise, you’re not standing there for weeks, as I heard happened before. They’ve only just started leaving at scheduled times, so you’re lucky,” he said with a grin.
Jenny had come up behind him. Even though they’d already said goodbye, apparently she had also known there would be a wait. She brought little presents for each person. A tin of tea for Sheila, a tiny sachet of lavender and sage for her brother, three little books for the older children, and playing cards for Alisdair. Jenny and Gillan hugged fiercely.
“You take care of that beautiful family,” she said to him.
“And you yours, Jenny. Thank you. God bless ye, sister.”
They all heard a loud, low horn. “See? How lucky ye are,” Charlie said. “Not even three o’clock, and they’re starting with the passengers. Fair winds!” He hugged or touched the shoulders of each again, as did Jenny. It was obvious they could not bear to turn away, so Gillan, his eyes full of held-back tears, pulled his plaid over his head and hoisted their wooden chest. “Time to walk on, lads and lasses. Here we are.”
They joined the slow-moving, shuffling line. Every third step Sheila slipped her hand into the folds of her arisaid to feel the shape of the tickets. They arrived at the ticket-taker’s seat and handed over the papers. He ripped a tear almost all the way through each, checking each person’s identity before handing them back. A careless nod, and they were on board. Someone directed them to follow the crowd down below decks, and there they saw the berths with the marked off lines for large parcels. Otherwise, it was first come, first pick.
They shuffled through with all their bags, not wanting to relinquish any of it, and settled on a patch in the middle of the ship. Gillan explained that it might be the best place for avoiding the rocking of the ship. They unrolled the bedding they had brought and laid claim to the space. Sheila motioned for them to go back up on the open deck to see off the boat. “I’ll see to the things. I’ve said my goodbyes, but ye might like to see us pull away from the docks.” Muirne elected to stay with her mother, not feeling up to watching the land pull away so slowly that it looked possible to swim back.
When the others had left, Sheila pulled out Jenny’s gift of tea. She opened it, and saw nestled in among the black crackled leaves, a tiny envelope. She opened it carefully, and saw the bit of sand, and the variety of seeds inside. Her eyes filled, and her hands dropped with the box into her lap. Muirne came over and sat beside her, glancing in.
The seeds and bit of soil must have been part of Jenny’s own store, taken from the island, in hopes that they’d have land again someday. Sheila stifled a sob, which captured the attention of several onlookers, still arranging their own bags and bedding. Muirne put her arm around her and lay her head against her shoulder. She stared into the dark creaking depths of the ship, seeing the long empty days stretch in front of them.
One man looked over kindly. “Dinna fash, mistress. We shall make it across this wide ocean, and have a new start. I know it.”
Muirne was more irritated with his optimism than thankful for his kindness at the moment, but it helped interrupt her sad thoughts. She nodded in his direction, not really being able to see him through the blur of tears. Her mother’s labored breathing eased, and she hoped Neil was able to wave to Jenny and Charlie. She felt exhausted all of a sudden, and laid across their bags. Leaving a hand on her mother’s foot, she fell into an instant doze.
Up on the deck, the rest of the family were standing, waiting for the signal of movement. Every once in a while they waved at those on shore, grinning or smiling. The minutes stretched on as they watched the last people in line filter up the plank and have their tickets torn. The parties who had waited to see if they could get on at a discount, mostly single men or women with children, were now arguing with the ticket-taker. Apparently he was having none of it.
Neil was watching the action, feeling quite detached and queer, when he heard his name. Someone else’s Neil? he wondered. But no, he spied Letty, running forward through the crowd, waving her green kerchief in the air.
“Letty!” he called back, waving an arm. She stopped suddenly, putting her hands to her mouth.
“You are going then?” she called.
“I guess so!” he said, earning a few chuckles from those around him observing the exchange.
“I—I shall miss you,” she stuttered. “Write to me, won’t you?”
“I—” but then it was Neil’s turn to stumble. Why didn’t she ask me before? “Aye, I will.”
Letty clasped her hands in front of her then, her face the picture of longing. Neil was looking at her, wondering where they had gone wrong, then started as he heard the loud, low horn again, signaling some new action for the crew. He held up his hand, and Letty did the same, the other on her heart. Neil felt a tickle coming up his throat, and turned to cough into his elbow. When he looked up, Letty was gone. The harbor whistles started then, and he felt the ship move.
Neil’s eyes darted around the dock, where knots of people were lingering. He found his aunt and uncle one last time, waving and shouting their goodbyes along with the other hundreds of people on shore. He saw no more of the green kerchief. The feeling drained out of his arms. Feeling like he might throw himself over the railing, he clamped down on the rail a moment, then went below to find his family.