and your dirty cunt go to a watery grave over the ship's rail before we reach New York.'
The man was obviously insane with a dangerous quick temper and I feared for the days ahead. Waiting until I could no longer hear his footsteps, I picked up the blanket and made a dash for the steerage quarters and the safety of the company of the emigrants below decks.
Stumbling down the steps, I emerged into the steerage quarters where there were only one or two small oil lamps to relieve the gloomy atmosphere. I peered fearfully into the dark shadows between the rows of bunks. God knows, I thought, who is lurking in there, ready to jump out at me.
It came to me then that I would never know who it was that threatened me with a 'watery grave'. His face was never visible as it was always in the shadow, whereas what little light that came from the ship's lantern shone on my face. He would, throughout the voyage, be able to recognize me. There was no doubt in my mind from the way he uttered his threat that he meant every word of it and in the days to come would be stalking me and waiting for the opportunity to push me over the ship's rail. It could be any one of the seamen or any of the male passengers on the boat. Shuddering at the thought of being suddenly tipped overboard without warning I resolved I would move about with great care, always on the alert, looking for any man taking too much interest in me, or with an injured arm.
Impatiently waiting for the dawn, I spent the rest of the night wide awake sitting under one of the oil lamps with my hand resting on the hand of the dagger in my stocking. Escaping from the fetid air of the steerage and emerging into the bright daylight made me blink my eyes until they became accustomed to the change of light. Leaning against the ship's rail and looking at me with some amusement was a tall open-faced clergyman of middle years.
Because of my fears and the need of a trustworthy man I ran to him exclaiming, 'I'm in great danger. Will you please help me?'
His face immediately became serious and showed concern.
'Of course. What can I do to help you?'
Offering my hand I said, 'My name is Miss Dara Tully.'
'And I am,' he answered, 'the Reverend Robert Blake of the Presbyterian Church. You appear to be in some distress. Now tell me what can I do to relieve your anxiety?'
Leaning against the rail with us both looking out to sea, I told him of the night's events. As I related what had happened his face became more and more serious. He was silent for some time after I had finished speaking, and continued to look out to sea with a very stern expression on his face.
'What can I do?' I asked anxiously.
'You, Miss Dara, you cannot do anything, but I can. From now on, until we get to New York, I will be as close to you as your own shadow, guarding you night and day. When you are in your cabin you will keep the door locked and will open it to no one but me.'
His voice, rich and elegantly pedantic, reassured me that I was now safe under his guardianship.
When we opened my cabin door the stench was overpowering. I looked inside; the oil lamp was still burning and I caught a quick glimpse of Mrs. Ponsonby still lying on her bed covered in blankets with her face to the wall.
As I had already given the Reverend Blake my reasons for sleeping on deck, he expressed no surprise and, shutting the door, said, 'Come with me; that cabin will have to be cleaned before you can use it.'
He spoke to a seaman who fetched a mop and two buckets, one with a long piece of rope attached to the handle. Throwing the bucket over the side, he played out the rope until the bucket was full of sea water.
Mrs. Ponsonby, on her bed with her face turned away, ignored us while we watched the seaman who mopped and rinsed the floor three times with fresh sea water before we accepted that the floor was now as clean as a new pin. His face lit up when I proffered a few shillings as payment for his service.
'Now, young lady,' said the Reverend, 'into bed and catch up with lost sleep. Lock the door as soon as you get inside and don't open it to anyone but me. I will be back at midday with some food.'
From that day on I was in the constant company of Robert, as I came to call him. As the days went by I almost forgot about the menace of the man intent on murdering me and, much to Robert's concern, became forgetful about always being on my guard.
When he learnt of my desire to improve my education, almost all my daylight hours were taken up with lessons in English literature and grammar, Robert's favourite subjects. He set me essays to write so that I could improve my spelling and use of words, and fired my imagination with his enthusiasm to such an extent that in the years to come I never lost interest in the written word and became an avid reader of English literature whenever books were available to me.
When we were about four days' sailing time from America the ship began to roll very badly shortly after we got to bed and it tossed so heavily that more than once I nearly fell out of my berth. Within the hour the wind began to roar and howl as if determined to destroy everything afloat. Mrs. Ponsonby, moaning and groaning, turned over and spewed on to the cabin floor. Making a quick decision to move myself below decks, I collected my clothes and got out of the cabin. The force of the gale winds was so violent and the pitch of the ship so steep that I found it almost impossible to keep on my feet, and I was flung against the ship's rail.
Terrified, clinging with all the strength of my arms and hands to the rail, I viewed with horror and abject fear mountainous forty feet high waves crashing down on the deck. Shivering with cold and drenched to the skin, I heard the planks and woodwork of the lifeboat above my head splintering and cracking as it swung like a mad thing from its davit. The smoke stack was making loud cracking sounds and I feared that it would be blown over and set fire to the cabins on the deck. Seamen came from below, no doubt on Captain's orders, with strong heavy chains and began to lash the stack more firmly to the deck.
Peering through the sea spray and catching sight of the entrance to the steerage quarters, I got to my feet with the intention of making a dash for it. As I was waiting for a lull in the wind the ship suddenly pitched hard over to starboard. Seeing the deck heaving up before me I turned round to hold on to the rail with all my strength and then fell to my knees as the ship lurched further towards the raging sea until it was almost lying on its side. Something hard struck me on the back of the head and before my forehead hit the rail and I passed out, I heard above me a man's voice cry out in fear. When I came to my senses, my hands were still clinging fiercely to the rail. Feeling very dizzy, my head throbbing painfully, I crawled on hands and knees back to the cabin and collapsed on the bed. Oblivious to the storm raging outside, I dropped into a deep sleep.
By morning the raging wind had blown itself out and, although there was a heavy swell, it was calm in comparison to the night's violent gale. Robert awakened me about eight in the morning by which time the seas had gone down very considerably. Briefly, I explained my adventures during the storm, after his startled exclamation at seeing the swelling on my forehead, and asked him to allow me to sleep till noon as my head still ached. When he departed I fell into bed thankful that I could continue my slumbers.
By the time he returned at midday I was up and dressed and, although feeling rather delicate, was much refreshed after sleeping most of the morning. He had given a lot of thought to my account of what had happened during the storm and told me of his suspicions that the man who had threatened me with a watery grave had attempted to do just that when I was standing at the ship's rail the previous night, and no doubt would have succeeded in his evil intent but for the ship rolling so suddenly on to its side. It was his opinion that the man had rushed towards me with outstretched hands as I turned to hold on to the rail but flew over my head when I dropped to my knees, kicking me accidentally with his boot on the back of my head as he passed on to his own watery grave.
Later that day, in conversation with the Captain, Robert was informed that one of the seamen was missing and was thought to have been swept overboard during the storm. It seemed to Robert that the Captain felt no sorrow over the loss of this man as his reputation was of the worst. Constantly getting into fights because of his vile temper, he had become most unpopular with the rest of the crew and it was rumoured that he was responsible for the death of a man during a brawl in one of the back streets of Liverpool. One of the crew had seen him washing the blood from a deep arm wound on their first night out from Liverpool. No doubt the result of another fight in that port, the Captain had concluded. I thanked God for my lucky escape and looked forward to arriving at New York and getting the whole dreadful affair behind me.
Three days later we were piloted into New York's bay and its magnificent harbour. In the distance I could see the 'Great Western' and other ocean-crossing vessels lying off Sandy Hook, waiting for their next voyage across the Atlantic Ocean. The sun was blazing down on hundreds of wooden cottage-type houses which made up the city on
