Read In Dublin's Fair City for Free Online

good day to be sailing, I said to Daniel, Sid, and Gus, who walked beside me to the waiting cab. I had forbidden Daniel to come to the ship to see me off. I didn’t think I could handle emotional scenes at the gangplank. And having forbidden Daniel, I could hardly allow Gus and Sid what I had denied him.
    “Anyone would think I was journeying to the North Pole or across the Sahara Desert the way you three are looking at me,” I exclaimed, looking from Daniel's face to Gus's and Sid's. “Fashionable people go to Europe all the time. They pop back and forth across the Atlantic as if it were a pond. It should take me no more than a week or two at most, and then I’ll be back.”
    I hugged my friends, then I went to hug Daniel.
    “Good-bye, Daniel. Take care of yourself, won’t you?” I put my hands on his shoulders and brushed his cheek with my lips. His arms came fiercely around me, almost crushing the breath out of me.
    “You take care of yourself,” he whispered. “No more stupid risks. Remember that I love you.”
    I climbed into the cab, my heart beating very fast. I think it was the first time he had actually told me that. I looked out and waved jauntily as the cab set off up Sixth Avenue at a lively pace. The White Star Line pier was at the bottom of West Tenth Street, close enough to walk, really, and I could have saved the expense of a cab if we’d all walked together, with Daniel carrying my valise. But I had money for expenses, a letter of credit, and my stupid pride. I didn’t want to risk shedding a tear at the dockside.
    We emerged from West Tenth to the hustle and bustle of West Street. Porters, seamen, and passengers were scurrying around the great ship, picking their way among stacks of cargo like a lot of ants around a picnic basket. The ship's twin funnels sparkled in the morning sunlight. She cast a great black shadow over the scene below. Truly a majestic sight, and this time I was really able to savor it. When I had departed from Liverpool, not only had I been a bundle of nerves at sailing underan assumed name, but I had two terrified children in tow—Kathleen O’Connor's little ones, en route to their father in New York. I had written to Seamus O’Connor telling him that I was going back to Ireland and would try to visit Kathleen's grave, if I had time, but had received no reply. Seamus wasn’t the greatest when it came to penmanship. I felt a pang of regret that those children were no longer part of my life. Maybe they’d come back to New York in the winter, I thought. I didn’t allow myself a pang of regret for my own child. No good would come from dwelling on that.
    I paid the cabby and assigned my humble luggage to a porter who looked at it with distaste, when compared to the piles of steamer trunks that were going aboard and led me to the second-class gangway. I went aboard without looking back, my heart racing a mile a minute, and showed my ticket to the purser at the top of the gangway.
    “This way, miss,” I was told pleasantly, and was handed over to a steward who took my train case from me and escorted me along a never-ending corridor to a small cabin. It was hardly big enough to swing a cat, but at least it did have a porthole. The view wasn’t the greatest, obscured by a lifeboat hanging out from the deck above, but at least I could see daylight and a glimpse of sky.
    “Your bags will be brought up right away, miss,” the steward said. “Have a good trip. We’re expecting good weather all the way. That's a blessing at this time of year, isn’t it? It's no picnic when we have to outrun a hurricane, I can tell you.”
    I thanked him, wondering if I was expected to give him a tip. Such questions had not been necessary when I traveled steerage. Before I could fumble for a purse, however, he gave me a cheery grin and left me to examine my quarters. Not that the cabin took long to examine. There were two bunk beds along one wall, a chest of drawers, wardrobe and mirror on