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out into darkness.
    A girl about his own age edged over beside him.
    Barry stared straight ahead.
Don't talk to me,
he thought.
Don't notice me.
    "What happened to your face?" she asked.
    "I fell against a post," Barry said, not looking at her.
    She laughed. "You must have been falling-down drunk, then, for this ship's steady as a rock."
    The singer was finishing:
    Oh, the last rays of feeling and life must depart
    'Ere the bloom of that beauty shall fade from my heart.
    "That was good," the girl said, "but he shouldn't be singing such a sad ould song. Aren't we all sad enough?" She faced him, sticking out her hand. "My name's Mary Kelly, what's yours?"
    "Barry O'Neill." She had a cap like his own and hair dark as his, but spiky. The coat might have been her father's, for it trailed to her ankles and had lapels on it that stuck out from her shoulders like wings.
    The music had started again and he caught a glimpse of Pegeen Flynn among the other dancers. She was still with the fellow in the fat white jacket, but now Barry saw that what he was wearing was a padded life jacket. It made him look as round as he was long, and took away his neck. He and Pegeen held each other at arm's length, swinging around and around, Pegeen's black skirt billowing like a balloon, her red hair streaking behind her.
    One of the straps of the boy's life jacket swung loose, clipping people as they passed, and he stopped and refastened it. Pegeen hugged her arms around herself as if she were cold with the standing, and then she and the boy were dancing again.
    Mary followed the steadiness of his glance. "Do you know Pegeen?"
    Barry shook his head.
    "I just met her tonight, myself," Mary said. "She's not a bit happy. I pushed her out there and told her to dance. She might as well; there's no turning back now. That's my brother, Mick, she's with. He's wearing that stupid life jacket because he's deadly afraid of the water. He can't swim. Well, none of us can, I suppose. He says that life jacket will be on him day and night till we reach New York."
    "Good idea," Barry said, though he thought it must be uncomfortable. Imagine wearing that thing in bed. He let his gaze wander over the crowd, checking again for Jonnie and Frank, feeling himself relax when he saw there was still no sign of them.
    "I told Pegeen there's not a bit of sense being mopey," Mary went on. "Of course, it's easier for me. I have my ma and da with me, and Mick as well."
    The music had stopped and Pegeen and her partner stood, waiting. Barry glanced quickly at the coil of rope. From here he couldn't even see the glove. But it was there, and so were the two men carrying on a serious conversation. Would it draw too much attention to himself if he just said "Excuse me" and climbed past them?
    Mary was waving and shouting, "Pegeen, Mick, over here!"
    Their heads turned, and Barry saw that they were coming toward him and Mary. He pulled the peak of his cap lower and began moving away.
    "Don't be going now. I want you to meet my friends." Mary had a hold of his arm. She was calling out again to Pegeen. "Don't you feel better now, the both of you? This is Mr. Barry O'Neill. We'll have to get him at the dancing, too, for I think he needs a bit of cheering up."
    "Barry O'Neill." Pegeen took a step backward.
    And then some terrible force smashed into Barry, sending him reeling against the railing, almost cutting him in two where his kidneys would be, maybe, pounding the breath out of him.
    Jonnie and Frank Flynn.
    "He's yours, Jonnie," Frank said, and Jonnie had his fists up and he was hopping from foot to foot in his newly polished boots, shouting, "Come on, me boy, come on, me boyo. We found you at last."
    Barry tried to get up, but his legs had turned soft as porridge. He crawled, stood, and was smashed down again by Jonnie Flynn's fists. His cap flew off.
    "You got him a good one. Look at the blood, would you?" Frank shouted.
    "He didn't do that," Barry wanted to say. "I got that from the