hand, furtively and quickly, so her parents would not notice.
Kathleen had waited hours to open the letter. She knew it was from Michael, and she wanted to be alone when she read his farewell. His words warmed her heart: He had not forgotten her. He would come back. And surely it would be a comfort to him to see her in the crowd when his ship sailed. Michael’s letter was the final push toward accepting Ian’s offer.
Ian let Kathleen off at the wharf before proceeding with his donkeys. He would pick her up on his way back.
“Excuse me, sir, which is the ship bound for London?” Kathleen shyly asked a sailor who was just unloading a cutter. The man grinned at her.
“The prison ship?” he asked meaningfully. “Can’t miss it, lass. See there where all the people are standing? They’re also hoping to get a last look at the rascals bound for Van Diemen’s Land. Is it your brother or sweetheart, my dear?”
The sailor let his gaze wander over Kathleen’s body. “Oh, the husband, is it?” He grinned. “Well, you won’t see much more of him in this life. But if you’re looking for a new one, I’d be happy to have you, sweet. Such a pretty thing, a fellow’d gladly take the stowaway as part of the trade.” He nodded toward her belly and reached for her arm.
Kathleen pulled herself free and ran in the given direction. Some fifty people were already waiting there, Gráinne Rafferty among them.
When Kathleen moved to join her, Gráinne spat.
“Well look here: the whore who dragged my Billy into misfortune,” she shrieked. “Fine little Mary Kathleen who could have had the steward but took the worst rogue. Trevallion don’t want you no more, that it? They should send you away, not my Billy who never did a bad thing in his life.”
Gráinne cursed and howled as those standing around looked rather compassionately at Kathleen. Finally, she managed to get away from the old cook—without learning where Gráinne and her family lived now or how they were doing.
It had turned not into a radiant spring day but rather a gray, rainy morning. Kathleen was freezing in her thin maternity dress. It had belonged to her mother, who had worn it through all five pregnancies. Now it was ragged, and Kathleen’s shawl did not keep her warm either. And she was getting hungry. She hadn’t had breakfast before sneaking out of the house. The baby in her womb kicked in protest.
Nothing was happening on the wharf. Though the crowd of those waiting grew larger, the prisoners were nowhere to be seen. Around noon, sailors appeared on deck to adjust the sails. And then, as Kathleen shivered with cold and hunger, a train of six prison wagons approached. Prison guards were on the boxes of the wagons, and soldiers guarded the train. The soldiers were well armed, and as the train got nearer, they took up posts between the waiting crowd and the wagons. Kathleen’s hope of exchanging a few words with her beloved sank.
Worse still, the wagons were driven right up alongside the ships. The prisoners only had a few steps to take on land before they were pushed on deck. A few threw themselves, sobbing, to the ground to kiss Irish soil one last time. Others walked stoically without looking back. Still others tried desperately to glimpse their loved ones in the crowd on the wharf.
The men in the last wagon hardly had this opportunity. Their hands and feet were heavily chained, and they dragged themselves onto the ship, driven roughly by the guards who struck at them, yelling. Kathleen cried out when she recognized Michael among these unlucky souls. She called his name, but all the others in the crowd cried out to their husbands, brothers, and sons. There was no way the prisoners could pick out the voices of their loved ones.
Michael did not look around. He could not guess, after all, that she was at the wharf. When he disappeared into the belly of the ship, Kathleen collapsed, sobbing.
“Now, now, don’t cry, lass. It’s not good for the
Kathleen had waited hours to open the letter. She knew it was from Michael, and she wanted to be alone when she read his farewell. His words warmed her heart: He had not forgotten her. He would come back. And surely it would be a comfort to him to see her in the crowd when his ship sailed. Michael’s letter was the final push toward accepting Ian’s offer.
Ian let Kathleen off at the wharf before proceeding with his donkeys. He would pick her up on his way back.
“Excuse me, sir, which is the ship bound for London?” Kathleen shyly asked a sailor who was just unloading a cutter. The man grinned at her.
“The prison ship?” he asked meaningfully. “Can’t miss it, lass. See there where all the people are standing? They’re also hoping to get a last look at the rascals bound for Van Diemen’s Land. Is it your brother or sweetheart, my dear?”
The sailor let his gaze wander over Kathleen’s body. “Oh, the husband, is it?” He grinned. “Well, you won’t see much more of him in this life. But if you’re looking for a new one, I’d be happy to have you, sweet. Such a pretty thing, a fellow’d gladly take the stowaway as part of the trade.” He nodded toward her belly and reached for her arm.
Kathleen pulled herself free and ran in the given direction. Some fifty people were already waiting there, Gráinne Rafferty among them.
When Kathleen moved to join her, Gráinne spat.
“Well look here: the whore who dragged my Billy into misfortune,” she shrieked. “Fine little Mary Kathleen who could have had the steward but took the worst rogue. Trevallion don’t want you no more, that it? They should send you away, not my Billy who never did a bad thing in his life.”
Gráinne cursed and howled as those standing around looked rather compassionately at Kathleen. Finally, she managed to get away from the old cook—without learning where Gráinne and her family lived now or how they were doing.
It had turned not into a radiant spring day but rather a gray, rainy morning. Kathleen was freezing in her thin maternity dress. It had belonged to her mother, who had worn it through all five pregnancies. Now it was ragged, and Kathleen’s shawl did not keep her warm either. And she was getting hungry. She hadn’t had breakfast before sneaking out of the house. The baby in her womb kicked in protest.
Nothing was happening on the wharf. Though the crowd of those waiting grew larger, the prisoners were nowhere to be seen. Around noon, sailors appeared on deck to adjust the sails. And then, as Kathleen shivered with cold and hunger, a train of six prison wagons approached. Prison guards were on the boxes of the wagons, and soldiers guarded the train. The soldiers were well armed, and as the train got nearer, they took up posts between the waiting crowd and the wagons. Kathleen’s hope of exchanging a few words with her beloved sank.
Worse still, the wagons were driven right up alongside the ships. The prisoners only had a few steps to take on land before they were pushed on deck. A few threw themselves, sobbing, to the ground to kiss Irish soil one last time. Others walked stoically without looking back. Still others tried desperately to glimpse their loved ones in the crowd on the wharf.
The men in the last wagon hardly had this opportunity. Their hands and feet were heavily chained, and they dragged themselves onto the ship, driven roughly by the guards who struck at them, yelling. Kathleen cried out when she recognized Michael among these unlucky souls. She called his name, but all the others in the crowd cried out to their husbands, brothers, and sons. There was no way the prisoners could pick out the voices of their loved ones.
Michael did not look around. He could not guess, after all, that she was at the wharf. When he disappeared into the belly of the ship, Kathleen collapsed, sobbing.
“Now, now, don’t cry, lass. It’s not good for the
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