BEA SAT WITH Mrs Kavanagh as she sorted her baby’s few things. Ma was too busy dealing with the sick. She made all of us scrub the bunks every day and shake out the lice from the blankets.
‘We have to keep clean so the sickness can’t take hold,’ she said. She looked exhausted. Her belly was so large now that it was hard for her to move. Da kept trying to get her to lie down but she would shake her head and move to help someone else. There was a young priest on board who seemed not much older than Liam Byrne. He spent all his time praying beside the bunks of people who were sick. Everyone was so busy trying to manage that I don’t think anyone even knew what day of the week it was. One day the mate John told us it was Sunday so the priest tried to get everyone to have some sort of mass. He called for everyone who could manage to come up on the deck and sing. I think we were all supposed to be Catholic but hardly anyone had the heart. I remember him reading aloud from the Bible. A few people were gathered around him, but the wind blew in the wrong direction and his words of comfort were lost in the air.
About twenty of the passengers were sick now and their relatives were too upset to think of anything else. We tried to help each other but there was one group who made Da cross. There were about eight young men who were travelling without family. None of them got sick and they didn’t seem to understand how awful it all was. If anything they looked bored by all the illness around them. One evening they started singing and tried to get some of the women to dance with them. A man from Galway tried to sweep my sister Bea up into his arms but she pushed him away. He shrugged and pulled one of Mrs Hughes’s little girls up to dance. I don’t remember if it was Louise or Leann but she started to dance happily making everyone smile, but then she suddenly collapsed. Mrs Hughes ran to her and for a while the child just lay still as though she were dead. Then she awoke screaming terribly and writhing about in pain. It was awful to watch.
Now the illness became more and more frightening. No one knew when or who it might turn on. A woman warming a drink at the fire for her husband suddenly dropped down quite senseless and had to be carried below.
Bea was the first in our family to take to her bed. We were sitting by the fire when Ma reached out and put her hand on Bea’s head.
‘You look pale, Beatrice,’ she said anxiously.
‘I’ve a terrible headache,’ Bea admitted, getting up to go, but as she did she fell forward and would have fainted onto the deck if Da had not caught her.
‘Help me, Henry,’ he called, and the two of them picked her up and carried her below.
‘Ma!’ cried Toby. He was frightened and ran into her arms.
She hugged. ‘It’s all right, Toby, stay with Slim. She’ll look after you.’ And she put Toby into my arms.
I didn’t know what to do. I was scared too and had no idea how to look after him. I just squeezed him close and it felt odd. I didn’t like the responsibility but Ma had work to do.
Bea soon had the most awful pain in her bones. Her feet began to swell and then her limbs up the body. She was covered in red and purple spots which turned into terrible sores with liquid running from them. Ma and Da were beside themselves with worry, and even Henry spent all his time fetching water for her, which he had carefully boiled to make it safe. Water was what everyone wanted but there was never enough to stop anyone being thirsty. All through the boat you could hear cries of ‘Water – for God’s sake, some water!’
Mrs Hughes’s daughter recovered but she was sick herself now. I got a headache and didn’t know if it was the fever or just worrying about Bea. I didn’t say anything because Ma was already so frantic with worry and I didn’t want to make it worse. I remember lying in my bunk looking over at Mrs Hughes on the other side of the boat. Everywhere was filthy and it made it difficult to breathe. On the deck a layer of muck had formed so thick that you could see footprints in it. Poor Mrs Hughes’s head and face were swollen so big that she seemed twice the size she usually was. I’d never seen anyone’s skin so white. Mr Hughes stood beside her holding a rosary he had got from the priest. He mumbled his prayers over and over but it did no good, for the next morning she too was dead. The sailors wrapped her in canvas and lowered her into the ocean.
Mr Hughes stood looking out to sea, a daughter in each arm. As his wife’s body disappeared from view he lifted his head. The rosary was still clenched in his fist and he called out to the heavens, ‘By this cross, Mary, I swear to revenge your death – as soon as I earn the price of my passage home, I’ll go back and shoot the man who murdered you, and that’s the landlord.’
A lot of people talked about their ‘landlords’ and blamed them for what we were going through. I hadn’t thought about ours. ‘Did we have a landlord, Henry?’ I asked.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Lord Cardswell.’
‘But wasn’t he . . . I mean, isn’t he . . .?’
But Henry had no time to chat. He, Da and Liam were too busy trying to help some of those recovering to get air on deck.
My head felt confused. Lord Cardswell was the old man in the grand house, but he was Ma’s father, or so I thought – so did that mean that her own father, my grandfather, had sent the terrible Parker Crossingham to . . . I tried to make sense of it all.
Those who were a little better sat on the deck, their faces yellow and withered, with terrible dark circles around their sunken eyes. Da got Toby to go round with a damp cloth to wipe the fever from them but he hated doing it. He was afraid and didn’t want to touch anyone. I went with him and tried to be brave, but the truth is I was scared too and didn’t like the feeling of their damp skin. None of the children played any more and Toby followed me around as Hamlet the pig had once followed him.
Even the air didn’t feel healthy, for now we were surrounded by thick fog. Jack sounded a loud horn all the time in case another ship was nearby and we might hit it. How gloomy it was. We could not see, and between every blast of the foghorn you could hear the cries of the patients below. The fever made some of them quite mad and they would shout out in a crazy way.
I don’t remember the order of people dying after that. It was terrible but we almost got used to it. One little girl whose parents had already gone into the ocean soon followed her mother and father, but everyone just shook their heads as they tried to carry on living. By now about half the passengers, maybe fifty people, were sick. So many had died that the sailors had run out of old sails to put the bodies in. They began sending people to their grave in two meal sacks with a weight fastened at the foot.
I couldn’t bear it and tried not to think about what was happening. I sat on the floor, practising over and over putting the box of silver letters together as if I were working the printing press. Toby leaned against me, not wanting to be alone for a moment. I dreamed of helping Henry and Da with their newspaper when we got to Oregon.
When he wasn’t working, Jack would sit with us as well. How he loved to sort the tiny letters with his giant hands.
‘Make a story,’ he would say as he held out a handful of silver.
‘Once upon a time, a long time ago,’ I began, and as I spoke I sorted out the letters with their spaces on the wooden deck, ‘there lived a giant who had no friends.’ Jack looked at me and Toby sniggered. ‘He had no friends because people were foolish not to realize how nice he was.’ Jack smiled as I made up a story about a giant called Jack and his friend, a small girl called Slim who found a wonderful box which, when you said the magic words ‘Hard about!’ opened to reveal whatever sort of food you wished for.
Jack would neaten all the letters I had laid out, and when he was done I’d get up with our finished blocks, fit them into the press and pretend to churn out page after page. Jack loved that, and would work the handle of the machine for me when it got too heavy. He wasn’t one for conversation and he probably wasn’t one for books, but he smiled and smiled as we pretended.
At last, when no one could manage any more, the weather turned calm and those who were able to crawled up onto the deck. They lay about in a jumble, arms twisted under and over each other, women with shawls over their heads leaning up against men, whether married or not. One old man just sat in despair, his hat pulled low over his head, his hands in prayer. Even the children were completely still.
I think everyone would have stayed that way, but the captain came up from the cabin and after looking about gave the word to ‘double-reef topsail and make all snug’. I didn’t know what it meant but everyone said we should get ready for bad weather. As if we hadn’t had enough trouble. So many sailors had fallen sick that some of the healthy passengers now had to give a hand in the rigging. Both Toby and Henry helped, even though Toby was really too small. They climbed up with Liam Byrne, Da and Jack. How I longed for my old trousers so I could help. I was stronger than Toby but had to stand there, helpless, in my long skirt, watching the preparations and getting more and more angry.
Ma watched me, and one day she took the skirt from me. ‘I need to fix that,’ she said quietly. She sat on the deck with needle and thread for about an hour, and when she was done she held up a pair of trousers for me. It was so kind I wanted to weep.
I barely dared to ask, ‘Do they have pockets?’ Ma nodded and my happiness was complete.
Soon the sky became black again, and the rain descended in torrents. The water rose in tremendous waves and the captain sent us all below. Jack was at the wheel, the only one strong enough to hold Pegasus steady. I waved to him as we went down into the hold but he stared straight ahead through the falling rain. His wet hair clung to his head and his hands were white with the strain of holding the wheel.
‘Good luck, Jack!’ I called, but he didn’t hear me.
Once more we were tossed about, one minute carried up by an angry billow, the next plunging into a deep hole. The roaring wind was drowned by the tremendous noise of thunder and lightning. The temperature dropped and we were cold.
The whole family huddled in the lower bunk and Ma pulled Mrs Kavanagh in to be with us. There was hardly room with Ma’s belly but we were glad of the warmth of each other. The ship rolled from side to side as the sea swelled. The timber planks buckled and bulged, then shrieked and shuddered. Each time we thought it must surely be the end the Pegasus righted herself once more. Toby was terrified and clung onto me like he would never let go.
‘Slim, Slim,’ he moaned, but you could hardly hear him for the sound of the sea and the cries of the other children. A mountainous wave rose up and the wind howled out his fear. The ship was propelled to the lip of a wave and then hovered there. For a brief second, time was suspended as we waited to be dropped down into the jaws of a whirlpool, where we expected to be swallowed whole in a final, terrible squeak of timber.
Just when everyone thought they could take no more, the storm died away. It was late afternoon when we were allowed to climb back up on to the deck. How odd it was after all the noise and commotion to find everything looking so calm and beautiful. The sun was setting and the orange, red and pink colours which glowed on the water made it seem as though we were gliding through a sea of liquid fire. The afternoon was clear, with a gentle breeze making a ripple on the surface of the water. Down below, calm was restored and a woman no one had even known was sick was found dead in her berth.
By morning the wind had dropped so completely that the water looked like a piece of clear green glass. You couldn’t believe it was the same sea. Now everyone got on with jobs. Washing was done and soon the rigging of the ship was covered with the passengers’ linen hanging out to dry. Most of it was just rags but everyone did what they could. We tried fishing with anything that could be made into a line. Padlocks and bolts were used for weights, with wire hooks made from scraps. Even with such simple gear quite a lot of fish were caught and soon my hand was cut from pulling on the line.
Everyone was so happy to have fresh food that one of the men took up a fiddle and another began to dance a jig in his long boots. He wore a light blue flannel shirt and a green scarf, and seemed so handsome and happy. Henry joined in and the two fellows tried to outdo each other with skill. Henry was not such a good dancer but he had wonderful energy and made everyone grin as he leaped about. It wasn’t long before everyone was standing in a circle shouting out encouragement. Toby, who had hardly left me since Bea had fallen ill, suddenly got up and joined in. Henry grabbed his hands and my brothers tried to out-dance each other.
It was so nice until Jack suddenly tumbled to the floor. We had seen it too many times. Someone well one minute and quite senseless and apparently dead the next. Everyone liked Jack – we all knew that he had taken the wheel to get us through the storm and he was always so nice and cheerful. The mood now was terrible and my heart pounded.
The music stopped as I ran towards him. ‘No! Jack! Jack!’
He didn’t answer. His eyes were closed and there was no response even when I shook his giant huge shoulder. I couldn’t bear it. He was my friend.
‘He’s too big to be sick,’ I yelled as the men came to carry him below. He was so big that it took six of them to get him to his berth.
‘I want to go with him,’ I called, but Ma thought it wasn’t right.
‘We’ve got our lovely fish supper,’ she tried, but I didn’t want any. It should have been a delicious treat after weeks of biscuit and bad water, but it meant nothing to me if Jack was not there to share it.
No one said very much as they ate. Everyone was exhausted and the poor members of the crew who were still well had to work doubly hard. There was hardly any wind and they had to tack over and over again. The overworked mate seemed to be everywhere dealing with food one minute and the next stretched across a yard, reefing a topsail.
I think we all thought we had left death behind, but with incredible speed the two oldest Byrne brothers, who had had such plans, both passed away, leaving Liam in his striped nightcap to say goodbye alone. How odd that the one who had been so seasick had survived the fever. A few who had been ill again appeared on deck, weak and weary. We were all desperate for fresh water. Bea seemed a little better at last, but Ma looked exhausted from tending to her. Mrs Kavanagh just sat on her bunk not moving. She missed her baby, and sometimes rocked from side to side as if still holding her. She sat with her straw hat looking ready to leave. I remember thinking that it was a cheerful-looking thing for someone so sad.
Da sat on the edge of the bunk looking exhausted while Ma tried to see to those around her. He was not a strong man and helping the crew had tired him out. ‘Surely we have been through the valley of the shadow of death,’ he sighed, but it was not over yet.
Despite all her looking after so many sick, Ma had kept well. Bea was getting better and Henry, Toby and I seemed to have escaped. We itched with lice but the ship’s fever had not caught us. When Ma began to let out low moans I thought she must have caught the sickness and Bea and I tried to make her comfortable. Da was helping on deck and Toby ran to fetch him. Ma clung onto my hand – I didn’t know what was happening.
‘Laudanum?’ I shouted to Bea. ‘Shall we get the laudanum?’ I felt panic grip my throat at the thought of Ma being ill. She was everything to us and we couldn’t manage without her.
‘Bea – not Ma, not Ma. It can’t be Ma who is ill,’ I cried.
Bea shook her head while she helped Ma lie down. ‘It’s not the fever. It’s the baby, you idiot. It’s coming!’
I felt so foolish. She was having the baby. Well, I had no idea what to do. Da raced down the steps, and soon all the women who were well enough were helping. They sent Da and me back up on deck to boil water, and only Bea was allowed to stay below. Da paced up and down, listening all the while for noises from the hold. At last there was a great cry from a baby and a cheer went up on deck.
A little while later Bea appeared, smiling. ‘You’ve to come down now,’ she called.
We went down one at a time to see the new member of the Hannigan family who lay in Ma’s arms. Even I thought it was quite a sweet little thing. It was a girl. I thought we probably had enough girls.
‘A little sister for you, Slim,’ said Ma. ‘She’ll look up to you.’
I looked again at the baby. That hadn’t occurred to me, that she might look up to me. I gave a little smile. Perhaps I could teach her a thing or two. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.
‘Look, Peg, an American baby!’ declared Da with delight.
‘But we’re not in America,’ said Toby.
‘Well, sure and we’re on our way,’ replied Da. ‘She can’t be a baby of the sea, now, can she?’
Da was practically dancing with delight. He announced to all who would listen that, as we had all been through so much, the new American Hannigan child should be called Hero. She was the Hannigan hero. She was the hero of our great adventure.
Everyone thought this very fine, and even the captain sent down a little whiskey to wet the baby’s head. I couldn’t stop grinning. I don’t suppose I was all that bothered about the baby but I was so happy that Ma didn’t have the fever; that she was going to be all right. I saw that some of the women were whispering with Da, who looked serious, but I was too busy taking a turn to hold the baby to pay attention.
While I sat on the bunk with my new sister, Ma lay in her bunk, trying to smile at me. ‘I’m sorry, Slim,’ she said. ‘I know you’re not keen on a baby.’
I shrugged. ‘It’ll be fine, sure it will,’ I said, trying to sound confident. I had never held a baby before and was terrified I might do something wrong.
Ma smiled as Bea took baby Hero from me. Then she took my hand and said, ‘Whatever happens, Slim, you know I depend on you. I rely on you to do the right thing for the family.’ She gave me a long hard look. Then she took off her Claddagh ring and slipped it onto my finger. It was too big and only fitted on my thumb.
‘Remember,’ she said, ‘the heart is for love, the hands for friendship and the crown for loyalty.’
I wasn’t sure why she was giving me her ring, but I nodded. She pulled me down to kiss me on the head.
I felt grown up then, as if she trusted me. I felt so happy – but in the night, while I was asleep, everything changed. I awoke to crying. Henry, who never cried, sat beside me sobbing and Toby was inconsolable.
Ma was dead. It was not the fever that had taken her from us, but having the baby.
‘She just wasn’t strong enough,’ said Mrs Kavanagh, who knew all about losing the most precious thing you could imagine.
All I could think was that I should have bought some of Mr Holloway’s pills. The money I had found on the Custom House steps was still in my pocket and the coin seemed to burn against my leg. Perhaps Ma had had the dropsical swellings and I could have made her better.