CHAPTER ONE

"What do you mean, we all have to leave?" Emer Nugent demanded as she stared at the "Notice to Quit" clutched in her hand. She looked up for confirmation of her worst fears from the bailiff, the aptly named Mr. Penny, to which she always silently added the word 'pinching' for more than one reason. Mr. Penny sidled nearer, and Emer nearly gagged as the stench of stale whiskey hit her. "You know the harvests have been very poor anyway for the last few years, but this here potato famine has been the end of his lordship, as it has been for many other of the gentry hereabouts in County Meath. "Lord Devlin has been kind enough to pay all your passages. Rather than have you fight over who gets to go to Canada, the land of milk and honey as everyone says, you're all to be cleared off, and the estate sold." Mr. Penny leered at her. "Now of course, if you've a mind to forget all about marrying Garvan Dillon, and come settle in the gatehouse with me, I might consider letting you and the rest of the family stay." Emer's unusual aqua eyes, the colour of the sea, narrowed at once. She tossed her mane of rich burgundy hair as she replied, "I'm sorry. Garvan and I are betrothed. Under no circumstances could I ever consider breaking that arrangement to marry the likes of you. You've brought us to this pass, Mr. Penny, skimming as much as you could off the estate funds for your drinking and gambling, while collecting the rents month after month on cottages falling down around our ears. When my father was so foolish as to finally fix his roof a year or two back, you doubled the rent on his cottage! "For the past two years the potatoes have failed, yet you've done nothing but squeeze all the tenants even harder for their rent. You've taken the very food out of their mouths rather than allow them to fall into arrears and trust that they will all pay you back when times get better. "And now that the English government is demanding higher taxes per head on each estate, you're trying to tell me his lordship is being generous in forcing us to emigrate? That's nonsense!" "What else can you call paying your fare over to the New World?" the portly man argued.

She stepped further away from his looming presence. "It's a death sentence, and nothing more than a cost cutting measure!" "What the hell are you talking about?" he growled. "Unlike you, I can understand the newspapers very easily. I know it only costs five pounds a head to send us to Canada on the coffin ships, but twenty pounds in taxes according to the new government regulations. So Lord Devlin will save himself fifteen pounds per tenant, and gets the chance to fob the problem of Ireland's poor onto another government as well!" His beady little eyes widened for a moment, but then he shook his head. "Well, Miss High and Mighty, whatever way it adds up, the ship sails noon Sunday from Dublin, so you'd better get your things together and get moving." "Sunday? But it takes three days to walk to Dublin from here! And we still have to pack for the journey!" Emer protested. "It's your choice. Come live with me and save your family from eviction, go on the ship, or starve on the roads here in Ireland like the rest of you bloody Papists," Mr. Penny spat, as if the words were distasteful to him. '"Tis no matter to me, but you might like to consider your family before you turn up your fine nose at my offer." He stalked away from the door of the cottage without a backward glance, leaving her numbly staring after him. She grabbed her black woollen shawl off the peg by the door and paced outside her small cottage for a time, wondering why she suddenly felt as though she couldn't breathe. It simply couldn't be true, could it? If it were, what were they all to do? Though Emer had been scathing in her criticism of Mr. Penny and Lord Devlin, she was well aware of the fact that she and her family were the most fortunate people on the Kilbracken estate. Emer herself was governess to Lord Devlin's two small daughters, and as such not only received a free cottage, but clothes, food and a salary of twenty pounds a year. Her elder brothers Cormac and Martin also did well compared to many other Irish tenants, for they helped run the racehorse stables on the estate, and were fine trainers and riders of champion hunters.

Yet in spite of their relative prosperity, the potato famine which had raged throughout Ireland for the past two years, ever since that fateful day in October 1845 when the pratai had been taken out of the ground all over the country black and stinking, had caused untold suffering throughout the beleaguered land. Food had become scarce, prices had risen sharply, people had panicked, and many had already died or emigrated. Emer had never imagined that her own family would be part of the massive evictions scheme she had read so much about, but now it seemed that even the estate where she had grown up had fallen on hard times. Ever since the lady of the house had died in childbirth several years ago, Lord Devlin had fallen into dissolute ways, and the corrupt Mr. Penny had helped speed up the estate's decline. Emer gathered her shawl closely around her shoulders, unable to control her shivering. After a few more moments of pacing outside in the chill spring air, she knew she couldn't put off speaking to her family any longer. She hoped she seemed calm enough as she walked to the fourth cottage in the row, where, as she had predicted, the entire Nugent family had gathered to discuss the terrible news. "I say we should stay in Ireland, find work somewhere!" her youngest brother Cathan, at only twelve, shrieked to be heard. "So many have been forced out of Ireland already, there are bound to be people looking for good horse trainers!" "I agree with Cathan," Martin, Emer's second brother, and closest in age to her at twenty-two to her twenty, said quietly. His wife Nuala nodded also. "Ireland is full of horse trainers, Brother, as well you know," Cormac, the eldest, at twenty-three, said with a contemptuous snort. "But Cormac, I don't want to leave our home! What about our girls, Ailbhe and Blinne? Can you imagine us having to travel half way around the world with them?" Cormac's wife Ailis protested. "And what about the girls in our family?" their father Liam Nugent demanded angrily. "Four girls, sixteen and younger, off to Canada to find work! What are they fit for except farm labour and a few household duties in the scullery of a big house?"

"I can cook and sew as well, Da, we all can. Emer's taught us," Brona sniffed, offended. "And as for being too young to look after myself, sure, weren't you and Mammy married at the same age I am now?" "No dear, we were a bit older than sixteen, but near enough," her mother Breda reminded them all. "Can we stop the family gossip for a moment here, please!" Cormac roared as they all tried to talk at once. All of them subsided into silence as they fixed their eyes on the powerful figure, tall and blonde, blue-eyed, as handsome as a young god, Emer had always thought admiringly. But he was also far too fond of getting his own way, she reflected. What Fate did he wish to lead them all into? Cormac stood in the centre of the room and looked from one to the other, making sure they were all listening to him. "We must be calm, and practical. It's not the end of the world. Others before us have lost their homes. We have several days until the boat leaves. If we have to go to Dublin to board the ship, then I suggest that rather than waiting around until they smash the walls and roofs down around all our ears, that the oldest of us all go the city to look for work. "If some of us do manage to find positions, then we can all think about staying here in Ireland. If not, well, we will just have to take our chances and get on the Pegasus bound for Quebec," Cormac proposed. The Nugents all looked from one to the other, and Emer was the first one to speak. "I agree with Cormac. I'm not saying it will be easy, with so many to feed in a big city, and needing a roof over our heads as well, but it's better than being forced to go on one of those dreadful ships I've heard about from the papers. I'll pack up my things and be ready to leave at sunrise." "I knew you would be game for anything, a thaisce," her father Liam said, using his pet name for her, 'my treasure.' "I'll go with Cormac and Emer. Who else will come?" Martin asked. His wife Nuala offered, "If the younger girls or Cathan were willing to look after the children, then Ailis and I could go with the three of you looking for work. I'm sure I could find someone

who wanted my embroidery and knitting and weaving skills, and no one makes finer gowns than Ailis." "I'll look after your lads Oisin and Daig, Nuala, if Maeve will look after Ailis' daughters," Cathan agreed. "But I want to go with Emer. I'm thirteen, old enough to work at a job cleaning or cooking somewhere!" Maeve protested. "No, pet, you have to stay and help Da and Mammy get their things together. It will be a much harder journey for them and will take longer. You and Cathan should stay, and Roisin also, since she is the next youngest. You'll all have to take turns carrying things and helping each other," Emer coaxed. "Right, that's settled then," Cormac said with an air of finality. "We shall all go tomorrow except the youngest and oldest, and we'll meet up at the docks on Sunday at noon. Or, if we find work and lodgings, we shall send a message to the others saying where we are." "I don't like this. It's going to split up the family either way if we all have to go into service," Cara, Emer's fifteen-year old sister, complained. "I know how you feel, dear, but is it better to be all together in a foreign land, or see each other only sometimes, but in our own country?" Cormac asked. "I don't know. We've never been separated before. The Nugent family has lived and died on this estate for generations, yet overnight it's being taken from us," Cara sighed as she turned back to her knitting. "Now let's not be so pessimistic," their father Liam scolded. "I think we should try to stay in Ireland, find work in Dublin, or the lads can find jobs with the more horsey set over in England. "But Cara is right. If it is going to cause undue hardship and suffering, then I think we should seriously consider Canada as a fresh start, all together as a family." "I'm going to go over to see Garvan, Da, to tell him of our decision, and see what arrangements he and Oran are going to make," Emer said quietly. Her father smiled gently, and nodded. "Off you go then, Emer, and enjoy yourself, you two lovebirds." Emer heaved a mighty sigh. "Hard to enjoy anything now that we're

losing our homes, Da, but thanks all the same for the good wishes." She left the house and started to walk up the path to the last cottage in the row.

CHAPTER TWO As Emer walked up to her fiance Garvan's cottage, she chewed her lower lip pensively, troubled by her father's last words, to enjoy herself, even with such a dire fate as emigration hanging over their heads. Lovebirds, indeed. If only he knew...

She sighed heavily again. Her father and mother had such a perfect marriage. It seemed impossible for them to understand that not every couple was as much in love as they, or that her impetuous nature was rather hard to curb at times. It had been that very nature which had got her into the fix she was in now, with an engagement she neither wanted nor felt she deserved. Emer had danced with Garvan many times at one of the recent dances, partly because she loved to dance, and partly to get even with the girls in the village who had called her stuck-up, and had made fun of her for never having been courted. The gossips had made great sport of the whole affair, and before she had known anything about it, Emer had been landed with a fiance who, though a worthy man, had very little scintillating conversation, education, or any shared interests with herself. His brother Oran was slightly better, for at least he was interested in improving his ability to read, and joined in with Emer's family as she gave all the youngest ones lessons. But the most that could be said for the Dillon brothers was that they were a pair of very stolid farm workers with few prospects other than working for someone else tilling the soil for the rest of their lives. Still, as her father had said, the Dillon brothers were decent men, kind, gentle, tall, and handsome, and remarkably similar in appearance, with the same bright blue eyes. The only thing to distinguish them was their hair, for Garvan's was blond, while Oran's hair was dark brown. "I'm glad you're here, Emer. What have your family decided to do?" Garvan said without preamble when she tapped on the door and entered the cottage. "Those of us who are able and old enough are all leaving for Dublin in the morning to look for work. The old pair and the youngest children, with the babes, will be following on to meet us Sunday at the docks if we have no success. But if we do find work and a new home, we'll meet them at the docks to take them to our new place." "In that case, since two of the carts are going up to Dublin tomorrow to fetch some provisions, Sam the head driver says we can all go up together," Garvan informed her.

Her eyes lit up. "If we won't have to walk the whole way, perhaps we should rethink our plans, and all go with Sam," Emer said, relieved at the prospect of a less arduous trip to the distant capital. "What do you think about going to Canada, Emer?" Oran asked, looking at her expectantly, clearly interested in her opinions. "I've heard dreadful thing about the condition of the ships. Even though Lord Devlin has paid our passage, that doesn't include anything else. We will still have to feed and look after ourselves on a voyage that could last six to eight weeks, depending on the weather," Emer warned them. "A good point," Garvan said quietly. "We're going to need food and provisions as well, Oran." "I'll count up how much ready money we have, but if the lands are going to be cleared anyway, we should take as much food and other items as we can with us to sell. Otherwise we will only have to pay good money for it in the town," Oran advised, "and we all know how expensive cities can be." "Right, in that case we had better stop standing around yarning, and get on with the job, " Emer stated, and with an assurance that she would see them later, she took her leave of the brothers. Before she began her packing, however, she needed to go back to her parent's house to tell them the good news about the carts. "In that case, perhaps we should all go to town tomorrow," her father said. "Will we be ready by then?" his wife asked worriedly. "It will cost money for lodgings," Brona cautioned. "And what about all the food and animals and so on we will have to leave behind?" Cara asked querulously. Emer considered this point carefully. Then she replied, "I have to talk to Lord Devlin about our wages anyway, so I'll see if he'd be willing to give us a fair price for the pigs and poultry. I'll do the best I can, but if we all intend on leaving tomorrow, we'd better get to work." With that, she tidied her hair and dress, and headed up to the big house, where she paced anxiously in the white and black marble

foyer of the neo-Cassical eighteenth-century mansion, her head spinning with the enormity of all that had happened, and all that would have to be done to leave the only home she had ever known. After a half-hour wait, Emer was able to secure a brief audience with Lord Devlin, in which she explained her needs. "You can always stay, my dear. My wife was always very fond of you, you know. You were the daughter we never had, until of course our own little ones came along," the middle aged man said sincerely, though his general demeanour was one of lassitude brought on by too much drinking. "You've been an excellent governess, and we would be happy to keep you on as a part of the household." "But what about all the rest of my family, and the villagers? It seems unfair to throw us all out, if it's possible for some of us to stay." "I can't keep this place going. I haven't got the means," Lord Devlin said wearily, throwing his hands wide in despair. "Sell some of the land and the horses, then. You could still keep us all here working for you!" "No, the taxes would cripple me in no time. I'm already poor enough as it is," Lord Devlin lamented with a melodramatic sigh. Emer laughed contemptuously. "Poor! With this house, those clothes! Why, the price of even one of those leather bound books would feed a family for a year!" Lord Devlin sat up. "There's no need to be so rude, Emer Nugent!" Emer, undaunted, saw her chance to voice her real opinions. "Rude, is it? You're sending us off to Canada to be rid of us, and I'm supposed to be grateful? "I read the papers. Do you have any idea of the conditions on the ships? The accommodation for steerage passengers is worse than even your horses, mere animals, would have to endure, and the mortality aboard the vessels is high. "I'm sorry Lord Devlin, if I seem ill-mannered, but I merely speak the truth. You know I'm grateful for everything you and your wife did to get me an education and a position over the years, and may God grant that her soul rests in peace. I only hope when your time comes that your soul will be able to as well. I hope you can live

with yourself, signing as you have the death warrant of so many!" "I'm sorry for all of you, really I am, but it's done now. I can't change my mind even if I wished to," Lord Devlin said in his haughtiest manner. "So if you've come to lecture me...." "No, I haven't, sir. I've come for my salary, plus the money for my food and clothes and lodgings for the year that go with it. And my familys wages, plus a fair price for our livestock and poultry as well, since we shall be forced to leave all the animals behind," Emer demanded with a proud lift of her chin. Lord Devlin eyed Emer admiringly, but saw he would have little chance of persuading her to change her mind and remain. Quite an unsettling little filly, he thought to himself with a shake of the head. "Here, fifty pounds, Missy, for all of you, and I wish you and your family all the best, I really do. I shall be sorry to lose you, and your brothers," he added as an afterthought. "And we're sorry to leave. We were all born here, and believed we would all live here forever." "Perhaps it's fate, destiny," Lord Devlin declared challengingly as he rose from his chair. "I think a woman like you is wasted here in this sleepy little country backwater. Go out into the wide world, Emer Nugent, and show everyone what you're made of," he said with a polite bow over her hand, which he kissed softly before guiding her out the door and closing it firmly behind her. Emer stared at the closed door for several moments in bemusement, before pocketing the small leather pouch he had given her. Then she headed to the back of the mansion to seek out the housekeeper and butler. "Well, we've been given notice to quit, Mrs. Reynolds, so I've come to say goodbye and thank you for all your kindness." "When does the ship leave?" the elderly housekeeper clad ia black gown asked. "Sunday, but we're off to Dublin on the carts with Sam tomorrow to see if we can find some work so we don't have to go." "Aye, and perhaps you can sell your tickets at the docks to people who do want to emigrate," Mr. Reynolds suggested cleverly.

Emer smiled and nodded. "That's an excellent suggestion. We certainly will try it. The master gave me fifty pounds for wages and our pigs and hens, so I came to see if you could give me as many small coins as you can manage in exchange. If you take out a big coin, people think you're rich." "It may seem like a great deal of money now, but with your huge family, it will go quickly," the butler said kindly, as his wife got out two pillowcases and began to stuff them with food. "I know it isn't much, but you're welcome to it," Mrs. Reynolds said as she put in several pies and cheeses. "Really, you mustn't. You'll get into trouble!" Emer protested, wide-eyed. "Nonsense, his lordship never looks at the books anymore, especially since he struck it lucky on the gambling recently. Here, he gave me fifty pounds last week, but with him dismissing all the servants today, I won't be needing it. You take half," the housekeeper offered. Emer shook her head. "No, I couldn't." "Trust me, you'll need it. Just promise me that if you're ever in a position to do a kindness for another fellow creature, you won't walk away," Mr. Reynolds said soberly. Emer hugged him tightly. "Thank you, Mr. Reynolds, and God bless. I promise. And I won't forget your kindness." Emer hugged Mrs. Reynolds lingeringly, for the kind old woman had been a good friend to her over the years. Then Emer stopped off at her both her brothers' houses to tell them the good news about the carts, before returning to her parent's house. "I have seventy-five pounds here," Emer said, clinking down the coins and notes onto the table with a flourish, before showing her family the two bags of food. Her father Liam scowled. "We can't accept charity." "It's not charity, Da, it's what we would be entitled to for the rest of the week if we had stayed. Besides, Mr. Reynolds said we could pay him back if we were to be kind to the needy in future, and I promised him I would." "You're too soft-hearted, Emer, that's always been your trouble,"

her brother Cormac complained. "It's better than sitting around worrying about fancy clothes all day," Emer sniped, with a dig at Cormac's wife Ailis, who fortunately was out of the room. "Emer, that was unworthy of you," her mother berated her. "I'm sorry, Mam, it's just that Cormac is always so quick to criticise me, yet he ignores his own wife's failings. If I wasn't so kindhearted, you and Ailis would never have a square meal on the table in your house, and Ailbhe and Blinne wouldn't be able to read or write, now would they?" "You're right, Emer, I'm sorry," Cormac apologised. "I lack your firmness of character." "Boldness, you mean," Cathan teased. "That's the pot calling the kettle black, you little monster," Emer retorted, hugging her youngest sibling and ruffling his hair. "Sure, doesn't your name mean 'battler!' You did nothing but try to box your way out of Mam's belly for nine months, and you've grown even more pugnacious with every passing day." "I've followed your example, you spirited young hussy," Cathan mocked, striding across the room with a long-legged gait in imitation of Emer's own walk. The family all broke into fits of giggles, but Emer sobered quickly enough. After all, there was much to be done. "I'm going to start packing my things. Now remember, the ship will be cold and damp with no proper beds if we have to go, so we will need all the blankets. And if we do end up going to Canada, it's meant to be a savage country in winter, much worse than Ireland, so take all your woollens with you even though it is roasting at the minute." Emer went back to the silence of her own cottage, and sat down with a sigh. A million worries teemed in her brain, but the only thought she could focus on was what Lord Devlin had said. Maybe it was fate, destiny, which was sending her to Canada? Emer, though frightened by the prospect of leaving Ireland, was also very curious to travel and see something of the world. Though it would be a tremendous upheaval to leave the land of her birth, many others had emigrated and made a fresh start in North America.

Aye, but they were the lucky ones who had survived the passage, she reminded herself grimly. It was a long journey to Quebec, and one fraught with danger. Better to try to stay in Ireland if at all possible, though secretly Emer held little hope of their chances, and even less confidence that they would be able to keep the whole family together the way they had always been. Because of the potato famine and resultant hardships everyone was on the road heading to Dublin and Cork to look for work. Any places available in the cities were probably long gone by now, and all of the wealthy estates for miles around each city would have either a full complement of workers, or would have had to tighten their belts due to all the new government taxation, and dismiss most of their workers rather than bankrupt themselves. Ireland was such a poor country compared with England, but the lawmakers in London knew nothing of their plight, and cared less. No, if the Nugent family were going to save themselves, they were going to have to do it by the sweat of their brows, and with more than their fair share of luck from the good Lord. Emer rose from her chair decisively and rolled up the sleeves of her brown cotton gown. Sitting there wouldn't get the work done. And only tomorrow would tell what the future held for her and her family and friends. She would just have to do her best to deal head-on with whatever Fate had in store for them.

CHAPTER THREE The next morning, the entire assembly of Nugent, Dillon and Lynch families piled the two carts high with their possessions, and waved goodbye to their fellow villagers who had come to see them off. "We'll see you at the ship on Sunday one way or the other!" Emer called to their friends Marion Lacy and Aine Flanagan, and they set off on their journey. The children and Emer's parents all rode atop, while the four youngest girls took it in turns to walk. But when they came to any steep hills they all had to get out, and even help push the cart on

if it got bogged down. At midday, Emer was plodding wearily up the last hill with Oisin, her young nephew on her back. Suddenly a whole vista spread out before her, and she could see the busy hive of activity that was Dublin. "Where do you want to head for, Miss?" Sam asked as the cart arrived at the outskirts of the city. "With all this luggage, I think we should go straight to the docks and inquire for the ship. Then we can at least leave the things in the parcel office, and find lodgings." "Right you are, Miss." When Sam finally found the right docks, Emer and her brothers Cormac and Martin left the family at the gates as they went to search for their ship the Pegasus. The harbormaster told them they would have to make arrangements with the captain about the cargo directly, so Emer asked where the ship was berthed. "You're in luck, Miss. It just limped into port about a half an hour ago. Looks like they've had a rough crossing. Go speak to the captain, whose name is Jenkins, and then perhaps your family can leave all your things safely with them," the harbormaster said kindly. Cormac was reluctant to trouble the captain, since he was confident that they would all find work in Dublin and not have to go to Canada, but Martin agreed with Emer that they had far too many things, and nowhere to stay as of yet. "Sam has to go about his business and be back at Kilbracken before nightfall. He can't hang about here all day, or follow us around as we go from place to place in search of work or lodgings," Martin said. "We need a safe place for all our things." "Very well, let's go," Cormac said with a nod. So the three of them headed in the direction the harbormaster indicated with his stubby forefinger, and strolled up the dock where the Pegasus floated majestically despite its tattered appearance. Emer had never been aboard a ship before, but undaunted, she walked up the gangplank ahead of her brothers. Once on deck, she

heard the captain loudly complaining, "What do you mean; I can't have any more crew?" The shipping agent said, "You know Mr. Randall's policy, Mr. Jenkins! We only hire Canadian crews, so they're much less likely to jump ship in foreign waters. You'll have to make do with the men you have." "But there's so much to do! We'll never be ready to leave by Sunday," the captain's wife, a small, plump, dark-haired woman with mild eyes, made so bold as to say in small quavering voice. "With all due respect, that's not my problem, ma'am. You sail on time, and start turning a bigger profit on your voyages, or you're going to be out, mark my words. Just remember you have to answer to Mr. Frederick Randall, and a more cantankerous and miserly old weasel I've never met." The shipping agent shook his head pityingly, and stalked past Emer and straight down the gangplank. "How on earth shall we manage, dear? Ten men down, and both my cabin boys gone. Who is to do all the cooking and cleaning for everyone?" Mrs. Jenkins complained sadly. "It's impossible." Emer saw her opportunity, and seized it without hesitation. "Captain Jenkins, if I may make so bold, I'm Emer Nugent, and these are my brothers Cormac and Martin. "We've just been cleared off our estates in Meath by our landlord, and are meant to be sailing with you to Quebec on Sunday. We to came to Dublin early in the hope of finding work and a place to stay, so that perhaps we might not have to emigrate to Canada after all." "Yes, yes, I'm pleased to meet you, and I'm sorry for your troubles, but I have a thousand things to do, and hardly any crew," Captain Jenkins said impatiently. "Listen to the girl, dear. I believe she's about to suggest something beneficial to both of us," Mrs. Jenkins said quietly, taking her husband's arm. Emer took a deep breath, and proposed boldly, "If you will allow us to stay on board this week, and go out at night to look for permanent posts, my family and I will work for you during the day, doing whatever jobs you require. "And if we do have to go to Canada after all, I am more than willing to act as a cabin boy, cooking cleaning and doing all the

chores you require, as would my twelve year old brother Cathan." Captain Jenkins's eyebrows lowered for moment as he thought about Emer's proposal. Then he asked, "How many men and women in your party?" "Nine women, eleven men, plus four small children." Captain Jenkins looked at his wife for approval, and she nodded. "They could do the cleaning and so on, and get the ship in order, I suppose," he thought aloud. "How old are the boys in your group? "My brother is twelve, my brothers in law eighteen down to fourteen, and I am just turned twenty." "A woman as a cabin boy. It's unthinkable," the captain muttered gruffly. "No it isn't, dear. The girl says she can cook, clean, and sew, and judging from the look of her, she has spirit. Take them all," Mrs. Jenkins advised her spouse. "All right," Captain Jenkins agreed reluctantly. "Bring your things aboard and leave them on the deck, Miss Nugent. My mate Mr. Bradley will show you all what needs to be done, and you can stay aboard until the ship sets sail. The wages won't be much, but you will be fed and housed, so that should help your family a bit. "You can go ashore at six every evening after supper has been served, and try the houses and hotels to see if they will take any of you on permanently. If they don't, then I'll take all of the young men in your party on as crew. "You, girlie, and your young brother, can be cabin boys. You'll all get food, and the two cabin boys have their own berths up above in the main gallery. "The other men can go into the crew's quarters, but if you all want to stay together, then you can bunk down below in the hold with the others. You follow the rules, don't be cheeky, and we'll get along fine," Captain Jenkins said gruffly. "Thank you, Captain Jenkins, you won't regret this! My brother Martin can go for the carts, and Cormac and I will start work straight away." She shook his hand gratefully. Captain Jenkins turned back to his work, and his wife gave a grateful smile and then went below.

Thus Emer was left alone on deck with Cormac. He immediately rounded on his sister. "Have you completely lost your reason? We're meant to be going out looking for real work, not playing about on a ship!" "This is real work, and what's more, now we all have a place to stay without it costing us any money," Emer defended herself hotly. "You heard the captain. We'll be housed and fed, and earn money as well. And we can still go out to look for work. "Plus, if we don't find any jobs here in Dublin, we can still go to Canada and be fed and paid throughout the entire journey. That will save a great deal of money, and preserve that much more of our nest egg for when we get to Canada. I can't see what you're objecting to, Cormac!" "We know nothing about ships. I'm a horsebreeder, for pity's sake. This whole enterprise could turn out to be a disaster. And I doubt Ailis and Nuala will be happy about the fact that you've volunteered their brothers as sailors. Come to that, I'm not sure what Garvan and Oran will say either." Emer crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Look, Cormac, I'm not going to waste time standing here arguing with you. The captain and his wife need our help, and we need money and a place to stay. We have no idea what tomorrow may bring, so just for now, let's assume that the worst comes too the worst, and we have to go to Canada. Working on board ship is the best solution to all of our problems." "All right, I will speak to the others. I guess it can't do any harm," Cormac conceded. "But I wish you wouldn't be so headstrong and wilful, Emer." She rolled her eyes in exasperation. "For Heaven's sake, Cormac, you act as though I've committed a crime. I'm just trying to do what is best for everyone, don't you see? "I saw the opportunity and I took it. No one has been harmed by this. In fact, the captain and his wife are very grateful for my suggestion. It gets them out of trouble as well. You heard the shipping agent as well as I did. They'd have hardly any crew without us here. They're not allowed to hire anyone other than Canadians, and it would be positively dangerous to try to cross the Atlantic with so few crew. We'll be helping not only ourselves, but everyone aboard ship, making it safe for us all." "But we're farmers, not sailors, and you're a governess."

"Beggars can't be choosers." "You jumped right in without thinking of the consequences, just the way you always do! You always let your heart rule your head!" he fired back. "I do think of the consequences!" Emer retorted. "But I have to face facts and deal with our situation as it is here and now, not worry about a thousand things that might or might not happen." She began to stride down the gangplank, her skirts and petticoats flying in every direction. "Now, we've done enough quarrelling for one day, Cormac. Come on, let's get our things up on deck, and go find the mate," Emer concluded firmly. "She's like a ship in full sail," Captain Jenkins commented thoughtfully to his wife as they watched Emer from the poop deck. "She has spirit, that one. I think she will bring us good luck," his superstitious wife replied. "Well, you've obviously taken a fancy to our new cabin boy, so who am I to disagree with your instincts. They've never been wrong yet. But don't get too fond of Emer. The family might not even be staying on until Canada, you know." "I have a feeling they will," Mrs. Jenkins answered cryptically. "After all, fate brought her to us at the precise moment we needed her help, her and her family's." She glided quietly across the deck as she watched Emer struggle to carry up several bundles of clothes all at once. "Yes, my dear, I think this was meant to be. She'll do just fine."

CHAPTER FOUR True to Mrs. Jenkins's predictions, Emer and her family were not able to find any jobs in Dublin which suited them and allowed them to stay together. Either it was a maid's job for the girls, in which case they would have to live in at the house or hotel, or a job out in the country, working on the land, where they were willing to take one or two workers, but not an entire clan of two dozen souls. But Emer did not despair, for life aboard the Pegasus seemed to be full of exciting possibilities, and the family never had time to brood as the week flew past. They all had to scrub the ship from top to bottom after the last rough voyage, and prepare the hold for the two hundred and fifty passengers who were expected to board on Sunday. From the County Meath estate owned by Lord Devlin there were one hundred and eighty people, and the rest of the ship had been filled

with various families able to pay their own passage, or who had been offered the choice of staying to starve in their homeland, or emigrating at the expense of their landlords. Wherever they had come from, they all had to be provided for, and nearly the whole or Emer's extended family, apart from the young children, quickly settled in and got to work. Their first tasks were to scrub the ship from top to bottom, and to clear out the largest cargo hold, normally used only for timber, and install wooden beds for the expected passengers. They had to put up wooden walls at six-foot intervals from the front to the back of the ship, and then put four brackets on each side of the walls. Planks of wood were slotted into the brackets horizontally, before four guard-rails were hammered along the full length of either side of the ship. The result of their efforts were rows of bunks, with three rough beds from top to bottom in each section, with a storage shelf at the top, as well as more storage under the lower bunk. The rails would prevent everything from being cast onto the floor in the event of rough weather. Each bed was designed to hold two people, though they wouldn't both be able to lie flat at the same time, the planks were so narrow. The men did all the heavy lifting and carrying, while the younger lads and girls all helped hammer the brackets and guard rails into place. Once they had finished with that chore, at the end of fifth day, Emer's mother Breda suggested they start making arrangements in case they had to stay on the ship all the way to Canada. Breda decided that the forepeak of the ship would be best for them, since there was more room in front for storage, and more privacy. It was also some distance away from the large hatch which led to the decks above, and the ladder below to the main cargo hold full of stores and ballast. It would be warmer and drier in the event of a storm, and also out of the way of people walking up and down in the confined space. Her husband Liam took the hammer and some hooks, and drove them into the boards in the ceiling. Then they hung sheets between each section, and divided each section in half, so they would have a bit more privacy to get washed and dressed and so on. In spite of the children's protests, the four toddlers were

allocated the bunks at the bottom, as were Liam and Breda, and Mr. and Mrs. Lynch, and Ailis and Nuala's parents. They all laboured to store their most important items above and below, and once they had crammed in whatever they could, Emer and Cathan took the rest of their things up to their own cabin boy's quarters. The cabin boy's bunks were opposite each other on either side of the large cabin at the stern of the ship. They had simple sliding doors, but also a high bunk, a porthole apiece, and many shelves and drawers below the beds for storage. Emer was delighted with her snug but well-organized quarters, and packed her shelves with the provisions her family had brought aboard. She put all their surplus clothing and other personal effects on Cathan's shelves and in his drawers. They even had their own chamber pots, and now Emer wondered with a pang what the others were going to do below decks regarding appropriate sanitary facilities, especially once the Pegasus got underway. It had been primitive enough with just her family on board in port, let alone with hundreds of strangers sailing on a storm-tossed sea for the next few weeks. Emer surveyed the ship with a whole new eye now. Next she scouted around the ship until she found some flat pieces of wood and gave them to her brothers to saw holes in, and then located some buckets. They rigged up a makeshift privy at either end of the large cabin, which they partitioned off with some spare large planks of wood, and nailed the seats into place. Emer's mother was pleased with their arrangements, though when Garvan and Oran saw they might have to share the area with four unmarried young ladies, they shyly opted to sleep in the crew's quarters for the rest of the journey. With the four boys' and Cathan and Emer's bunks now empty, Cormac and Martin went out to buy more provisions, and stuffed the empty bunks with the provisions they would need for the journey. "Some of the lads were telling me today that sometimes if we get delayed by storms at sea, we might run out of food. I've gone to get some more cheeses, and some eggs, which we can eat hardboiled, and a cask of brandy and one of wine," Cormac indicated to his family. "We should get some fresh water as well, just in case," Emer suggested. Martin shook his head. "We'll get that as part of the ship's

stores." "Yes, but for cooking down here or washing, or whatever, it would be better to have access to our own supply, especially with all these women here, and Ailis getting near her time," Emer argued sensibly. The men blushed, but did as she had suggested, and went to buy several casks of fresh water as well. Though her elder brothers still clung to the hope that they would be able to find a job at a stable somewhere, Emer herself was not so unhappy at the prospect of going to Canada, for her new life as a cabin boy was very exciting in many ways. She helped with the captain's and his wife's stores, cooked, cleaned, scrubbed, mended sails, and even, after the first few days, got to climb up into the rigging. Much to her parent's horror, she borrowed one of Martin's shirts and waistcoats, and a pair of Cathan' trousers. Tying her lush burgundy hair up into a long plait which she concealed under a sea cap, she looked the picture of a fresh-faced young seafaring lad. Her brother Cathan also enjoyed himself immensely even though they were rushed off their feet most of the day. Despite their inexperience, the rest of the crew was very kind to the unusual family who had come aboard. The girls loved being flirted with, and Ailis and Nuala were delighted with the many pairs of weather-roughened hands willing to cuddle their children when they grew fractious or began to cry. The women's sewing skills and nimble fingers soon made them popular with every man aboard, as they moved from sail repairs and making, onto fixing and splicing the ropes, and then onto repairing the sailors' personal items of clothing, or making them new shirts. For all these tasks they were paid good money, and all the families' wages went into the common purse for the three families, which Cormac and his father counted every day. On Saturday morning they all accepted in inevitable, that they were going to Canada the following day with the rest of the crew and families from Kilbracken. Old Liam and Cormac counted their money three times just to make sure.

"There's nearly a hundred pounds here, in spite of all we've bought for the journey," Liam marveled. "It was a lucky day when your sister came to this ship. It will be a tidy sum to make a start on in Canada." "We have to get there first," Cormac reminded his father, his expression grim. "I know that, son, but there's no need to be so pessimistic all the time. We're a lot better off than many of the poor souls in Ireland. Perhaps it's for the best. We can make a whole new start in Canada or America, with more freedom than we've ever had here. You wouldn't want your girls to grow up with all the handicaps that being a Catholic entails in Ireland, now would you?" "I think girls nowadays have a bit too much freedom." Cormac scowled darkly as Emer came tripping down the stairs of the companionway into the hold. "Look at her, like a young hoyden with no maidenly modesty." "Aye, and I suppose I would be really modest if I climbed the rigging in my skirts now. Then I'd really put on a fine show for all to see," Emer jeered. "Da, tell her," Cormac insisted. "I can't see the harm, son," their father replied mildly. "The crew on this ship treat her well, and the captain's wife has taken a shine to her. You worry about your own wife's shortcomings, and leave Emer alone. I don't suppose Mrs. Jenkins has got a cookery book around here anywhere, has she?" Liam asked his daughter hopefully, and then winked. "Well, if she does, I'll be sure to ask if I can borrow it for Cormac, else he'll fade away to a thread. I'll be pretty busy around the ship, and doubt I'll have time to do my usual kitchen drudgery for you, Brother." "In that case, I think I'll dine with the rest of the crew in their mess," Cormac said as he visibly changed colour, and left quickly. Emer and her father laughed heartily. He patted his daughter on the shoulder. "Never you mind him. He's just envious of your beauty and brains, and the fact that no matter what, you have a knack for landing on your feet just like a cat." "Well, let's hope this journey doesn't have me landing flat on my..."

"Emer!" her father chided gently, and then chuckled. "You make sure hanging around with sailors doesn't lower the tone of your conversation, and you will look after Cathan and the other boys up above, won't you?" "I will, Da, and I'll come down and visit as often as I can. I'd better go now. We're loading the ships stores' and ballast this afternoon, and they'll need all hands on deck." "And we'll have to help store it all below," Liam replied. They both climbed the narrow stairs together, and up into the bright sunshine. Emer looked up and admired the ship for the hundredth time, still finding it hard to imagine that she was about to set sail for Canada in only a few hours' time. The Pegasus was a fine schooner, with three masts and a bowsprit protruding from the front. Emer knew there were twelve sails on the masts, and couldn't wait to see them all unfurled when they finally got underway. She and her father came up the companionway in between the main mast and the capstan. Captain Jenkins called to Liam, "Call down below to the others. Tell them to open up the lower hatch and then you can all make a chain to move the cargo along. That way we can get loaded much more quickly." "Aye, Captain." Liam waved, and called below to his sons, while Emer strode up the remaining stairs and on to the deck. Emer worked on ceaselessly, scurrying around on her bare feet as she went up and down the gangplank carrying crates, and helping her brother and brothers-in-law to roll the many barrels. She had worried at first about splinters, but the crew had warned her that shoes and boots could be far more dangerous on the deck of a rolling ship. Emer enjoyed the feel of the sun on her face, and the crisp salt tang she breathed in, though admittedly there were other less pleasant smells wafting along the docks as the sun ascended high in the sky, and the temperature rocketed. At about three o'clock, as Emer continued to lug her cargo aboard, she noticed a huge commotion on one of the docks nearby. It seemed

as though half of Dublin were trying to board the ship, and Emer couldn't take her eyes away from the teeming masses as people were dragged aboard by their arms, necks, and even legs and feet. Women were jostled in the throng, and children screamed loudly as they were either crushed, elbowed, or trodden upon in the mob's frenzy to get aboard. "All headed off on the Arcadia for Philadelphia," Charlie, one of the younger sailors, informed Emer when he saw her staring. "Is that what it's going to be like here tomorrow?" Emer asked, wide-eyed. He shook his head. "No, because Captain Jenkins runs a tight ship. He lets the women and children on first, the men after, and only ten people at a time. We'll start boarding them early tomorrow morning, so get all your chores done in the galley early. "Oh, and we have one passenger coming aboard, a Mr. Randolph, so prepare the best cabin for him, the largest one adjoining the gallery." Emer nodded, and finally managed to drag her eyes away from the pitiful spectacle of the desperate souls trying to board the ship bound for the States. They looked ragged, starved, and terrified. What would her own friends from Kilbracken look like when they had to board? And what of the other passengers, strangers from goodness only knew where? "Come on, Emer, pick up that end, there's a good fellow," her brother-in-law Tomas, a thin pale boy of fourteen, demanded petulantly. "Sorry, sorry, I'm coming," Emer apologized as she hurried over to lift the crate, her back and legs straining as they carried it from the top of the gangplank over to the companionway stairs. The other three Lynch brothers, Reamann, Peadar and Ultan, always listed in that order starting with the eldest, lined the top of the steep stairs. Each handed the box down to the next person as it disappeared deep into the bowels of the ship. "I say, Emer, this is going to be some adventure, isn't it," Reamann said with a grin, and then gave Emer a flirtatious wink and tried to kiss her. "Reamann, really, what will the captain say if he catches you fooling with his cabin boy! Besides, I'm engaged, and far too old

for you anyway," Emer scolded good-naturedly. "Two years between us isn't so much!" "Why don't you talk to Brona or Cara? They're more your age!" "Oh, Brona is far too serious and stuck up. All she wants is to be a farmer's wife! And Cara hasn't got your fiery locks!" "Fiery locks, fiery temper, Reamann! Be careful you don't get burnt," Emer returned glibly, and left the young man thoughtfully gazing after her, until her sister Cara, with her lovely long mane of blonde curls and cornflower blue eyes, came into view. Perhaps Emer has a point, Reamann admitted as he saw Cara stroll along the deck with a pile of sewing for the men. His three brothers began to tease him as Reamann continued to stare with his mouth open. He looked at them one by one and retorted, "Well, there's no harm in looking, is there?" "No, but if you want to keep your job, you'd better get on with your work!" Ultan scolded. "The captain and crew like me already," Reamann boasted. "They say I'm a natural born sailor, and could earn a fortune on some of the whaling ships out of America." Peadar frowned. "Mother and Father won't like to hear you talking like that! They have their hearts set on a little farm somewhere near Quebec." "I'm eighteen, old enough to make up my own mind, and old enough to marry as well if I like. Sure, and don't the old pair have you other three fine strapping sons to look after them in their old age," Reamann pointed out as he laboured on. "All the same, once this tub gets going, you might find you hate it. I hear the seasickness is terrible," Ultan cautioned. Emer returned just in time to overhear their last snippet of conversation. "The steward Mr. Bradley says drinking chocolate is the best thing for that," she revealed sagely, with a solemn expression on her lovely face. "Why, does it stop the seasickness?" Reamann asked hopefully. "No, but it's the only thing that tastes as good coming up as it does going down!" Emer repeated the witticism she had heard for the boys, and broke into peals of laughter as she saw the four faces

drop simultaneously. They began to laugh, then choked as their eyes widened. "Uh, oh, we're in trouble now!" Reamann groaned under his breath. Emer's heart sank as she suddenly heard a heavy footfall behind her.

CHAPTER FIVE Emer's back stiffened as she suddenly became aware of a looming presence behind her, and someone clearing his throat loudly as he attempted to stifle his own laughter. Emer turned to face him, and saw the most incredible man she had ever laid eyes on standing before her. Though Emer knew she herself was tall for a woman, this gentleman positively dwarfed her, with each of his hands big enough to fit both of her own in their palms. He was richly clad in a thick light-blue linen summer coat and a fine travelling cape. His immaculate white shirt, embroidered royal blue waist coat with a matching silk cravat, and skin-tight fawn-coloured breeches, all evinced that he could patronize the finest tailoring establishments in Dublin, if not the world. But even more impressive than his ensemble was his face, for Emer was certain he was a god come straight down from the heavens, perfection itself. She tried to look for a flaw as she scrutinised his visage, completely enthralled. His thick black hair, short and wavy on the sides, without any pomander to straighten it, fell to just above his shoulders, and

was so dark as to be almost blue. His fine black brows arched over pale brown eyes, the colour of gold, which seemed to take in everything with a penetrating stare. His nose was long and well-boned, his chin finely-moulded, with a deep cleft. His sideburns were neatly trimmed and quite short compared to the fashion of the period. His skin was a deep brown, and his strong jaw was cleanly-shaven. His skin looks as soft as silk, Emer marveled to herself. "I'll have to remember that sage piece of advice for future reference." The stranger smiled, though his merriment failed to touch his eyes, which maintained their hard and assessing expression. "My name is Dalton Randolph, and I'm to be one of your passengers tomorrow to Quebec. I was just shopping in town today, and since I was near the docks anyway, I thought I might as well bring my things straight here rather than take them back to my hotel. Is Captain Jenkins aboard, so that I may ask his permission to stow them in my cabin?" "He's away at the minute negotiating for supplies, but you're expected, sir, and so I'm sure he would have no objections. Show me where you've left your things, and we'll take them on board with all the other cargo," Emer offered, and signalled to Ultan and Tomas to follow her. "You're Irish," Dalton Randolph said abruptly. "You're not deaf," Emer quipped. "Humph." Dalton scowled. "Pretty saucy young lad, aren't you." "I'm sorry, sir, but I don't see what I or my brothers being Irish has to do with our loading your cargo, unless of course you subscribe to the notion, popular in the English press, that we're a bunch of idle, thieving vagabonds," Emer accused. "No, no, I- it's just, it was just something to say by way of conversation. I'm sorry," Dalton muttered. "Well, I suppose me and the lads will forgive you, since most gentry wouldn't usually take the trouble to converse with mere sailors." Emer grinned then, and strode down the gangway in front of Dalton as he paused in astonishment. Ultan and Tomas followed her, and Dalton was left to make his way

down to the dock alone. "This cart over here," he indicated. "Right, then, we'll look after these things, and we shall see you tomorrow, sir, with the rest of your luggage." She and the two boys unloaded the cart quickly and allowed it to drive away. Dalton got into his carriage, and jotted down his first notes concerning his assignment: "Captain not on board upon first arrival. Is hiring Irish crews, though strictly forbidden." He put his top hat squarely back on his head, and thumped the roof of the carriage impatiently for the man to drive on. Once the handsome Dalton Randolph had departed, Emer felt she could breathe again, and she and her two comrades brought all the cargo on board safely. He certainly was a handsome chap, fairly wealthy too judging from all the fancy goods he had left for them to bring aboard. She had seen food and clothing like it at Kilbracken in their better days before the famine had struck. She just hoped Canadians weren't quite as arrogant as the British. Though the less she had to do with the huge, spectacular-looking passenger, the better, she decided with a distinct shiver despite the heat of the day. Then Emer went down the companionway nearest the mizzen-mast, which gave access to the captain's quarters and the main saloon and gallery which were at the stern of the ship. Emer stripped her waistcoat and sea cap off, and placed them in her own quarters, before walking halfway down the gallery, and going through the door to her left. Behind the door was a small passage, with a ladder up to the next level where the captain's quarters and great cabin were situated. Another door led to the main passengers' stateroom. It was a long, fairly narrow chamber, with a large double bunk underneath a row of three portholes, and a dresser. There was storage space under the bed and in the other three corners of the room. A second door led out into the large open area of deck below the open quarterdeck deck, where there was a large fireplace for cooking and keeping warm.

The good-quality passengers would normally have this area reserved for their recreation, but since it was going to be so crowded on the ship, the captain had designated that midships was to be used by the steerage passengers instead. Mr. Randolph would be allowed to have the gallery all to himself instead, and was to dine with the captain in his own quarters with his wife for every meal. Emer turned the key in the lock of the far door that opened out onto the deck amidships, and the boys began to bring Dalton Randolph's supplies into the stateroom. They piled them neatly in the lockers nearest the door. Emer got fresh linen out of one of the drawers under the bed, and began to make the bunk. Next she moved over to the small water closet across from the bed, where she laid out fresh towels and soap. She would come back to fill the ewers full of water in the morning. "It's so exciting, Emer. We're really going to Canada," Tomas whispered, as he looked around at the cabin. She nodded solemnly, struck by the enormity of it all. "I can't believe it myself. One short week ago, we were all happy at home in Kilbracken, and now here we are about to cross the Atlantic." "I know Ailis and Nuala have been really angry with you for suggesting we become the ship's crew, but me and the lads love it, honestly. Even Garvan and Oran are beginning to get the hang of things. It isn't the same as being on a farm, but you still need a lot of muscle," Ultan said, as he flexed his own small biceps proudly. "Your sisters have never approved much of me anyway, so no offence taken. I just hope we can all travel across the seas for six weeks without scratching each others' eyes out," Emer commented wryly. "I would be more worried about how your parents feel about all this." "Dazed would be the best way to describe it," Ultan admitted after a great deal of thought. "But they're a lot older than your parents, so I think it's harder for them to accept that things have to change. "Father lends a hand, and all four of them have been put in charge of belowdecks by the captain to ensure that the steerage area is kept clean at all times. But when he isn't working, Far just sits and stares into space, and Brona told me that me Mar cries all night."

"It's a big wrench for them, having to leave their home. But then, it has been for all of us. We just have to make the best of it, and remind ourselves that we're a lot better off than those poor wretches we saw earlier today. Suffering and deprivation have turned them into animals," Emer sighed. "I don't understand why any of us have to leave," Tomas piped up with his usual precocity. "I've looked around the docks here, and all I see are boatloads of food, oats, wheat and such like, being shipped to other countries. I know that the potatoes have failed, Emer, but if there's other food available, why send it all away to other countries where there is no famine when everyone here is starving?" Emer brought the boys into the saloon to show them her quarters and Cathan's, and they all sat down on the bunk as she pulled on her waistcoat. She tried to get all her unruly hair back under her sea cap again as she tried to explain the complex situation to her brothers-in-law. "It's the English government's policy, I'm afraid. They don't think that they should interfere with what they see as an exclusively Irish problem. "They also believe in what they call free trade, so that the merchants can get good profits from buying and selling, and stay in business and employ others to work for them, so that in turn those people can eat. "The government believes that if we didn't send food out by way of trade, we wouldn't be able to import, to bring any food and other goods into Ireland, because countries like America and Canada wouldn't think we were prosperous enough to be worth trading with. "So the men in charge believe they should keep sending the food out, since they say the amounts are so small compared to the overall production in the country, that it wouldn't make a difference to the people anyway," Emer highlighted for them. "Is what they think true, though?" She shook her head and sighed. "I'm afraid not, Tomas. Thousands starved last winter because of the usual seasonal scarcity of food, you know, as the harvest supplies begin to dwindle. And matters were made even worse by the total failure of the potato crop. "Even if we do have a good crop this winter, many more will die because of the high prices, and so many being evicted from the

land. It's only the end of May now, and a long way to October, when the potatoes will be harvested. They could come out of the ground looking fine as they did two years ago, and still end up rotting in the stores once again." They all shivered at this dreadful thought. "Will Ireland have a good crop this year, do you think, Emer?" Ultan asked despondently. Emer shrugged. "Who can say? But I really don't think so, and that's why I want to go to Canada, before things get any worse." "The blight can't last forever," Tomas pointed out. "Aye, I know that, but where do you get potato seeds from to plant more? From potatoes. There aren't any decent lumper potatoes to be had after two years of famine, so the people would all have had to buy seed this past spring. The price for seed will be very high, and people already living on scraps for the past two years won't be able to afford them. "Even if they did have seed, so many have been evicted, they might have no land to farm any more. Look at all the wandering folk we saw on the road on our way here to Dublin. All the homeless living in the streets and alleys of the capital. They've come from all over the country to look for work and a place to live. If they don't work or grow food, they won't eat. Dublin is their last hope, as it was for us, and we found nothing. We could try to look harder and further. We could try to sell our billets and stick it out. But how long would the money last, and where would we all live? "I don't want us to be among them, so that's why I'm glad we're going to Quebec. We have a place to live, work to do, food three times a day which we can share with our families, and best of all, nearly every one of us have wages coming in. It may not be exactly what we're used to, but it's better than anything we could have hoped for in Dublin." The boys all nodded. "I didn't like saying this in front of the rest of the family, but the truth is, I'm certain the situation in Ireland is going to get a lot worse before it gets better. So no matter how hard this journey is going to be, it really is best if we all leave now while we can." A sudden noise in the saloon caught her attention, and Emer silenced the boys with a quick movement of her hand as she stood up and walked out into the main salon.

Just to the left of her sliding door stood Dalton Randolph, so tall that he had to stoop even in the large spacious gallery. "I'm sorry to interrupt your fascinating conversation," he said somewhat gruffly, "but I had a few more things to bring aboard, and...." "Please, don't apologise, Mr. Randolph. The lads and I just finished your room, so if you'd like to have a look around and see if there's anything else you require, I'll take you there," Emer said politely. She tried to avoid the golden gaze which seemed to penetrate to the very depths of her soul. "That would be most helpful, my boy." With a sweeping gesture with one arm, he indicated that she should lead the way. "This is it, sir," Emer declared as she pushed open the door nearest the ladder. "We've put all your food stores in those lockers by the door, but there's still some room in this one." He began to reach for what he thought was a cupboard. "No, sir, that's the water closet," she corrected him hastily. Emer blushed as Dalton took a quick glance in, and then shut the door again tightly. He opened all three portholes to air the room, and then looked into the drawers underneath the bunk, and on the far wall. "Very fine. It seems most satisfactory," Dalton said without enthusiasm. Emer dared to meet his golden gaze with her own aqua one. "If there is anything you wish, you have only to ask. I'm to be your cabin boy. My name is Emer, and the steward is Mr. Bradley." "No, there's nothing wrong with the room," Dalton said impatiently. "Would you like to see the captain or his wife then, sir? Or have I caused you some offence?" Emer asked boldly as he continued to stare at her, his lips compressed into a thin line which revealed his ill-humour. "Boys, go up to the top of the companionway, and fetch down my boxes please, which you can put in this locker. I want to have a little talk with your brother here for a moment," Dalton ordered

suddenly. Then he pulled off his travelling cloak and gloves, and sat on the bunk to test it. Dalton scowled darkly. "In answer to your question, Emer, no, you have not cause me offence personally. But I would not have you filling your brothers' heads full of wild talk, and doom and gloom." She blinked at him in confusion. "Pardon?" "How can you presume to understand the complicated questions of government and economy, or predict the future of the potato crop? It seems to me you're in possession of very few facts, and even less understanding. You have no idea how harmful your idle chatter can be to rebellious men just waiting for a chance to attack their betters." Emer could feel her temper begin to soar, but at the same time she knew this man was a foreigner, a Canadian, and a paying customer on board the ship, while she was a mere cabin boy. She couldn't tell him exactly what she thought of his arrogance, but she was not going to allow his scathing criticism of her knowledge and ideas to go completely unchallenged. "I'm sorry, Mr. Randolph, if you disagree with me, but I always read the papers, follow the Parliamentary debates, and...." His brows shot up in surprise. "You can read?" "I went to school sir, aye. My whole family can read. I've taught nearly all of them, and my nieces and nephews as well." "Come from a big family, do you, boy?" Dalton asked, though without interest. "My family, including my four brothers-in-law, whom you've met, plus two other distant cousins, the Dillons, makes twenty four in all on board this ship. If you take away the four parents, I've taught all the others how to read," Emer said proudly. Dalton looked up as he worked out the figure of twenty, and then continued to stare at her silently. Finally she grew uncomfortable under Dalton's sharp scrutiny and lowered her own aqua eyes. "You're the gentleman, you know best," she said stiffly. "I'll keep

my mouth shut, and my opinions to myself. "Now, if you'd like to see the captain, we can go to his cabin to make inquiries. It's just up this companion ladder outside your door here," Emer indicated. She left Dalton alone in the cabin to follow on behind. On the deck above, Mrs. Jenkins was completely flustered by the last-minute preparations. "Emer, thank God you're here! Just look at what the captain has brought me!" she declared in a frightened voice, pointing to the poop deck one level higher. Emer popped her head through the hatch which led to the upper deck. She was confronted by a long sharp pair of horns and a fearsome pair of slanting yellow eyes. The horns took a sudden swipe at her. Emer jumped back just in time to dodge the charge, but fell down the ladder and landed on her posterior right at Dalton's feet. "Are you all right, lad?" Dalton asked with concern; as he bent down to offer her a hand up. "Fine," Emer wheezed, as she clutched her chest with her other hand and tried to get her wind back. "I'm fine, really!" she insisted, alarmed, as Dalton began to check her legs for sprains. "I just got a shock, that's all." "No, don't go up there!" she cried, clinging to Dalton's enormous hand with her own tiny one. "It's a goat!" "For milk for the tea and so on," Mrs. Jenkins explained in a hushed voice. They heard it stamping its hooves on the deck overhead. It was evidently a most willful beast. "Don't worry, Mrs. Jenkins, I've dealt with goats on the farm in the past. I'll get it tied up and milk it for you every day," Emer reassured her hoarsely. "Now, if I can introduce you to each other, Mrs. Jenkins, this is Mr. Randolph, our passenger down below, who has begun loading some of his things in his stateroom.

"Mr. Dalton Randolph, may I present Mrs. Emily Jenkins, the captain's wife. Is there any sign of the captain while Mr. Randolph is here, Mrs. Jenkins? He was rather hoping to get a chance to pay his respects," Emer asked, as the two shook hands cordially. "No, Emer, Mr. Randolph, I'm sorry. He's having a terrible time securing food for the crew of any decent quality for a reasonable price. He's had to go ashore again, and the good Lord only knows how we'll be able to leave on time tomorrow," Mrs. Jenkins fretted, chewing her bottom lip. Emer smiled in an effort to cheer the worried woman. "Never fear, Mrs. Jenkins, we'll get it all done, even if we have to work the whole night." Mrs. Jenkins smiled as she patted Emer's cheek. "You are a Godsend, child." "In that case, ma'am, I shall defer the pleasure of meeting your husband until tomorrow. I apologize for taking up so much of your valuable time," Dalton said with a stiff bow. Emer escorted him out of the captain's cabin and onto the quarterdeck. "I hope your trip back here hasn't been an entirely wasted errand," Emer remarked as she led the taciturn Mr. Randolph to the main gangway. "No, not at all," Dalton replied with another stiff bow. Without a word of farewell he stalked down the gangway and straight towards his carriage. "Now there is one careworn man," Reamann remarked as he and his other brother moved to join Tomas, Ultan and Emer on deck as they finished putting Dalton Randolph's things down below. "What makes you say that?" Emer asked curiously. "Just look at the way he stares at everything, as though he is determining the value of it, and walks like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders," Reamann observed as they all stared after Dalton's retreating figure. "We can't all be as happy and as carefree as you, you know," Ultan teased. "Aye, but all the same, he looks miserable for all he must have

scads of money. Ach, who know, maybe a marvellous sea voyage will cheer him up no end!" "Stranger things have happened," Emer murmured to herself as she watched the carriage drive away into the red gleam of the sunset. Shaking her head, she pulled her sea cap off to wipe the perspiration off her brow and ruffled her damp hair. Then she twisted her braid around the crown of her head once again, and pulled the cap back on tightly to try to prevent her luxurious burgundy tresses from slipping down her back and getting in the way of her work all the time. "Come on, we have to give the deck one more sanding and scrubbing tonight, so let's move," Emer chivvied her companions. She paused for a moment to watch the glorious sunset, the last one she would ever see in Ireland. She breathed in the sea air like a tonic, and listened for a moment to the whistling of the wind in the rigging. Then she went back to her never-ending round of chores, her spirits high as she looked forward to setting sail on the morrow.

CHAPTER SIX True to Emer's predictions, the crew did indeed labour the whole night ensuring that all the maintenance jobs aboard the ship were carried out, and that the repaired sails were all in place. Emer loved climbing aloft, for it afforded an excellent view of the skyline of the city, but Tomas in particular was quite terrified of heights, a problem that the crew tried to help him get over by ordering him up on the least excuse. If he was that scared when they were in harbour, he would be no use at all on the high seas. Emer would often volunteer to take his place, but her overtures were usually rejected. The first mate and bo'sun could see that she was only trying to protect the boy, but her taking on his chores might not be the best thing for either of them. She was supposed to be the cabin boy, and he a full member of the crew because he was male. Therefore, no leniency would be permitted. "He's an able lad. They all are. Give 'em a chance and they might get themselves a good career on this or another ship," Charlie the deck hand advised as they worked along side by side aloft on the mizzen-mast tying the topgallant sail to the yardarm. "I know they are, Charlie, but Tomas is genuinely terrified. The mate sending him up all the time just makes it worse, and we're still in port. Think what it's going to be like when the ship starts to roll from side to side," Emer said as she secured the sail, and then on the loud count of the bo'sun, began to heave the sheet up to fold it and furl it to the yard. "You just worry about yourself, Missy," Charlie advised. "The

missus is lovely, but the captain can be a right devil when things go wrong. If you're the nearest target, you'll get it. And the second mate Pertwee can be worse if he's had a bit too much to drink." This last comment was overheard by the rest of the men hanging over the yard, and they all laughed. "You'd better not tell the girl any more, Charlie, else she'll jump ship. Then we really will get hell from the captain. I hear she can cook like one o' them French chefs," Fred, another deck hand, called. "In that case, Emer, I take back every word I said, and will you marry me!" Charlie teased. This became a standing joke between her and the rest of the men, that they all wanted to marry her because she could cook and sew. Emer didn't mind the light-hearted banter, but Garvan objected strenuously when they came down to secure the mizzen topsail and he overheard. "She's marrying me, gentlemen, so I'll thank you to keep your rude remarks to yourself," he thundered indignantly. Emer blushed. "Garvan, they were just joking!" she scolded her blond fiance in an undertone. "I don't care. Those Canadian louts have no right to speak to you like that!" Garvan growled. "Those Canadian louts, as you have so loudly called them, are our comrades for the next few weeks aboard this ship, and we all need to work together. So I'm not going to put up with any hostility or jealousy, is that understood? I am a free woman still, Garvan, and I refuse to be treated like a piece of your property to do with as you will." "If I could treat you like that, Emer Nugent, I would make sure you were dressed like a lady and safely confined in the hold, not consorting with ruffians and swaggering about dressed as a man in those shocking clothes." "I don't see what's so shocking about a shirt and trousers. You all wear them. I'm completely covered from head to foot. Besides, this shirt and waistcoat of Martin's are far more modest than some of the low cut gowns I've seen the women hereabouts wearing!" The whole crew hanging on the yard began to laugh uproariously.

Fred said, "That wasn't a very good comparison to make, girlie." "Why not?" Emer asked as she hauled up the sail. "They're not exactly, er, um, ladies. They're plying their trade, er, showing their wares, so to speak," Charlie answered with a blush. "That's enough, I will not permit such talk," Garvan blustered. Emer's eyes lit up as she grasped what they were trying to tell her. "Oh, I see. They're prostitutes," she said matter-of-factly. Garvan choked, while a few of the men giggled. Her brother Cormac glowered. "Disgraceful!" "I don't see why! If men didn't pay women like them to do that job, they wouldn't have to walk the streets, displaying their wares as Charlie said," Emer replied indignantly. "Or is it that you don't object to them existing, you just object to my knowing about them?" "This is not the kind of conversation we should be having in front of a respectable governess," Oran butted in gently. Emer laughed. "Lord, I've heard far worse when the genteel Cormac over there stubs his toe on the bed-post in the morning, and that from two doors away." She grinned at her brother cheekily, as she furled the sail and tied it adeptly. "That's it, I'm telling Da!" Cormac insisted. "What, that I've seen a prostitute? You'd have to be blind not to notice them," Emer said airily, causing the crew to snigger again. "But before you permit yourself to get on your moral high horse, just stop to think that there's a famine raging in this country. Maybe some of those poor women, who look more like painted skeletons than voluptuaries, are walking those docks because they have no other way of feeding themselves or their children. Maybe whoring is a damned sight better than starving to death! "Or maybe they're saving up the money to get a passage on one of these ships the only way they can. So before you open your mouth, Cormac, just stop to think how lucky we are, with jobs, and our passage paid for. Who's to say what any of us would resort to in order to protect our families and stay alive?" Emer concluded with

a telling look at her brother. He now climbed down the shroud to the deck below looking as black as a thundercloud, with Garvan following on close behind. Charlie let out his breath in a whoosh. "Well, Emer, you sure told them. Old Cormac there looked mad enough to spit." "Ach, sure, we're always fighting. It's nothing to get worried about." All the same, she knew Cormac and Garvan were seriously offended by her outspoken ideas. Fred continued to stare at her. "What, do you disagree with me as well?" "No, Emer, not at all," Fred denied quickly. "I've just never heard a woman talk like that before. No wonder you and your brother fight." "Cormac may be the eldest, and a man, but anyone can see who's the head of your family," Charlie admired. Emer caught her other brother Martin's eye as the crew climbed down to lower the mizzen course yardarm to tie on the third sail. He urged gently, "Don't let Cormac upset you, Emer. He's getting more and more stuffy by the day." "Thanks, Martin. I appreciate having you on my side for a change," Emer said sincerely. "It's better siding with Cormac than getting caught in the middle, and besides, I always did like supporting the underdog. With your fiery temper and sharp tongue, Emer, the poor man never stands a chance." Martin winked at his sister then, and they continued their chores without any further incidents.

CHAPTER SEVEN The crew fell into their bunks exhaustedly as the darkness finally settled over Dublin Saturday night, and the moon rose high in the sky. Most of the work was now done, and the ship was as ready as it could be for the long voyage to Quebec. All was well on the ship, high spirited in fact. They were feeling so lively, in fact, that after Emer's argument with her eldest brother, the crew took to taunting Cormac with the word "Prostitute," muttered or called out from above every so often, just so they could see his back stiffen. Emer felt sorry for Cormac, but there was little she could do. In any case, her many chores on the ship ensured that she usually didn't see him or Martin and the Dillon brothers as often as she saw the Lynches, Charlie and Fred. Her daily routine aboard ship began at four, when she was called by the men just coming off watch. She would head to the main galley above, situated between the two companionways up to the poop deck and next to the corridors which led to the captain's living quarters and the two cabins for the first and second mates. Once inside the galley, Emer had to build up and stoke the fires as she heated water for breakfast and the senior crew's and passengers' ablutions. She was also instructed to put on a huge vat of porridge every morning, and follow the steward's instructions concerning Mrs. Jenkins' menus for the day. This morning they were to have steak and eggs, and Emer also hurriedly kneaded some dough for biscuits, a particular favourite with the captain.

On other mornings, so long as the fresh ingredients held out, she would beat flour with eggs and milk to make griddlecakes. Emer knew they would taste very different with goats' milk in them, and dreaded having to cross the wide Atlantic with no cow's milk for the children. Voicing her fears to Mr. Bradley the steward, he suggested she ask for some of the goat milk in return for looking after the cantankerous creature. Mrs. Jenkins agreed to the proposal with alacrity when she came into the salon that morning for breakfast. When the water was hot enough and while the biscuits and oatmeal cooked, Emer brought hot water to each cabin, and returned to set the table. Once she had milked the goat, set the table, and they had eaten, she then cleared the table and washed the dishes. Emer's next chore after the breakfast was to clean out the six main rooms in the stern, starting with the captain's cabin and salon. She made each bed, emptied each basin and chamberpot, and swabbed the decks. Then she would have to go above to swab the poop deck, and return to the galley to do laundry for the senior crew and any passengers on board. Cathan's duties were quite similar, except that he helped in the lower galley next to the gallery and passenger's staterooms, and had to keep the deck amidships in mint condition. He fetched and carried for the cook who attended to the crew, and also helped with their mountain of laundry and mending. Emer was also asked to lend a hand if things were particularly busy, and they were expected to help the lamp trimmer maintain his lanterns for the whole ship. But Emer's favourite task was to go down with the storekeeper and help measure out rations of oatmeal and ship's biscuit and so on for the crew. It was like being a small child raiding a secret cupboard full of fascinating objects. She especially loved siphoning off the crew's allowance of lime juice in the mornings, and rum in the evenings, from the huge barrels stored below.

By the time the morning chores were finished, it was time to start dinner. After that meal was completed and the dishes done, Emer might be asked to go up on deck to help with the sails, or give the ship's carpenter some assistance in his little store up at the front of the ship. Her brother Martin discovered he had some woodworking talent, and Emer would follow his instructions when required. Then it would be time for supper, and early to bed for an early rise the next morning. On the morning of their departure, Emer hadn't needed to be awakened; she was already far too excited about leaving for Canada to sleep. She went through her chores in a whirl that morning, and before she knew it, it was time for all the passengers to begin boarding. All the hands were on deck to help the steerage passengers board and get settled as quickly as possible, and as Charlie had said, the captain made sure that the throng was kept in order, and only ten women and children at a time allowed to board in and orderly but brisk fashion. As she watched, Emer saw many familiar faces from Kilbracken, such as Marion Lacy and Aine Flanagan, who looked white-faced with fear. But most of her friends and acquaintances, weary from their long walk, and dazed by the enormity of what they were doing, staggered up the gangplank almost blindly. Emer said hello to them by name, and they would each smile when they finally recognized her in her sailors' outfit, and then move below. Often Emer went down with them to help them stow their luggage, and the bunks soon began to fill. Busy though Emer was, she could not fail to notice the other wretches who boarded the ship. Some of them look like skeletons, and one of them, who spoke no English, explained that since they could get no ship from the western ports when they had been evicted from their homes, they had walked all the way from Donegal, almost three hundred miles away. Their feet were bleeding and raw, and many of the women were shivering even though it was a hot day in May. "They have fever," she said in a low voice to Charlie. "What should we do?"

"There isn't much we can do, except maybe to put the worst ones in the bunks at the back, furthest away from the others," he suggested. Emer led them below and indicated where they should put their things. Most of them were too exhausted to care where they slept anyway, and lay down placidly and began to doze. Emer also realised that very few of them had anything other than a few rags clutched to their bosoms or tied to their backs. "They have no food either, and barely the rags they're wearing to cover them," she reported back to Charlie, to see if he had any ideas as to what to do for the best. "We're required by law to provide them with pound of ship's biscuit or a pound of oatmeal per day for the adults, and a quarter of a pound for the small children." "That's hardly enough! When the potatoes were good, we used to eat about ten to fourteen pounds of them a day each," Emer exclaimed, horrified. "Still, it's true, Emer," the storekeeper said as he passed by, confirming Charlie's words. "Those are the rations." Charlie shrugged. "It may not be much, but it's better than nothing. I've heard tell that a lot of captains save money by not bothering to give the steerage passengers anything." She looked around the dark hold and sighed heavily. She had done her best by seeing to it they were kept together and given good bunks. That was all she could do at present. Emer was so busy trying to get everything ready for the midday sailing that she only gave a brief fleeting thought to whether Mr. Randolph had come on board. It was only as the crew began to make ready the lines and anchor, and she heard the clock of a nearby church chime midday that she heard the captain exclaim, "Tarnation! Look at the time, and still no sign of the high and mighty Mr. Randolph! I have a tide to catch, you know!" "But all his things are on board, dear. You'll just have to wait a little longer. Perhaps he's had some trouble with getting a carriage, or went to church this morning. It is Sunday, after all." "Right, I'll wait another quarter of an hour, but that's it," the captain huffed. He began to shout orders to the crew to ready

everything to get underway. Emer anxiously scanned the docks, where a small crowd of well-wishers had come to see off their relatives emigrating. But the minutes ticked passed, and still no carriage appeared. Where on earth was Dalton Randolph? Emer wondered anxiously, as the captain finally gave the order for the gangway to be untied. CHAPTER EIGHT In his hotel in the centre of Dublin, Dalton had wakened early in a foul mood. He had had very little sleep the night before, and in the hope of blocking out his melancholy thoughts, had imbibed far too much brandy, and smoked far too many cigars. His head throbbed, his throat felt like sandpaper, and he wrinkled his nose as he caught the reek of stale tobacco and spirits in the room. "Damn it, I refuse to spy, and I don't want to go back," he muttered to himself. But he rang for breakfast and ordered a bath to be brought up all the same. If he was to go back home to Quebec, this might be his last opportunity for a good wash and a decent meal, he reasoned as he padded around the room, and looked for something to do while the manservant laid out his clothes. He flicked through the papers idly, looking at the 'Letters to the Editor' section as he waited for his repast to be brought. He read with increasing interest the correspondence on the state of the Irish government's schemes, if any, to alleviate the situation brought about by the famine in Ireland, and their projections about the future potato crop. "Well, well," he murmured softly, as he was reminded of all the unusual educated cabin boy had said to his brothers the previous day. Then he scowled. The lad had probably been just parroting everything he read, Dalton concluded, tossing the paper onto the sofa in disgust. Then he told himself not to be angry with the poor lad, when it was himself he was furious with. Dalton knew deep down that he didn't want to return home to his dictatorial father and the fiance he had been lumbered with when his domineering patriarch and hers had decided that the best way to secure a joint shipping venture was to

unite their only children in matrimony. But what other choices did he have? He had been travelling around the Continent and the United Kingdom aimlessly for over a year, leading a life of idle pleasure which had begun to bore him within the first week. Certainly the ladies were lovely, his gambling winnings had amassed him a small fortune, and he had stayed and dined at some of the finest establishments in the world as he had done the 'Grand Tour.' "The trouble is, I should have done it when I was young, not at the ripe old age of thirty-five," he sighed, glancing at his father's reproachful letter on the mantelpiece. "It's meant to finish off my education, expose me to culture, and the possibility of romance. Instead it's made me even more bored and discontent than when I left home." He glared at the letter, and then tossed it in the fire. He certainly didn't need to read it again. It was about the hundredth in a typically aggressive stream of correspondence Dalton remembered well from his days at boarding school in England. But that last letter had been accompanied by a request that made him detest himself even more than usual. His father Frederick had written that if he were coming home soon, he should try to rendezvous with one of their fleet via Dublin. The Pegasus and its captain were losing money for the fleet by the hundreds, and his father wished Dalton to investigate the matter post-haste. Good Lord, it isn't as if we'd even miss a couple of hundred dollars, or pounds or whatever, Dalton thought moodily as he placed his breakfast into his mouth mechanically, almost without tasting it. "And I dislike deception, changing my name, pretending to be just an ordinary paying passenger," he thought aloud as he sipped his coffee. On the other hand if I have to go home, and this captain really is a thief or incompetent.... Dalton struggled with his decision throughout the meal and then as he got undressed and washed. Even a long soak in the steaming tub did nothing to restore his humour or resolve his situation in his mind one way or the other. A last walk around the town provided Dalton with a great contrast between the relative prosperity of Quebec and the appalling squalor

he saw prevalent everywhere as he gazed upon the capital. Dalton thought again of the outspoken young cabin boy's explanations yesterday concerning the situation, and he grew progressively more sorry at the harsh criticism he had heaped upon the boy's head. The lad, Emer, was it, obviously knew his own country better than a mere passing visitor. He also shouldn't have been so intolerant of a person who felt so strongly about alleviating the plight of the poor. After all, he himself had joined a number of charitable committees in Quebec to try to improve conditions there, though his father had denounced his membership of such bodies as nothing but a waste of time. Dalton, in a rare mood of introspection, reflected ruefully that perhaps he had only joined them to spite his father in the first place. In truth he had done little of practical value except make a few small donations, and some scathing remarks about any ambitious projects suggested by the leading figures on the charity committees. Dalton sighed, and trudged back to the hotel in an even blacker mood. "What's the use? My life is a barren waste no matter where I am, London, Rome, Paris, Dublin, Quebec," he sighed, gazing out of the window of his hotel room idly, before settling into the armchair by the fire once more to gaze into it as though it might somehow give him a clue as to his future. Dalton determined he would not go home at his father's beck and call. But as the hands of the clock moved to twelve and it struck as many bells, he decided he was being cowardly. Now galvanized into action, he jumped to his feet and reached for his coat. He rang the bell and began to gather his things hurriedly from around the room. He had sent his own valet home long before, when the man had informed him that he was needed because his wife was expecting. He now waved the hotel valet's services aside as he declared, "Never mind about my dress at the moment, I can manage my own waistcoat and cravat. Just throw everything into those suitcases, and tell the boy to get me a cab. Hurry!"

Just as the gangway had been stowed, Emer heard a rattling on the cobblestones, and called in relief, "Look, Captain Jenkins, it's Mr. Randolph here at last." "Well, put the blasted thing back in position, then," Captain Jenkins grumbled. The men quickly lashed the ropes to the deck once more as Emer and eight of the crew went down to remove all the luggage from the cab's roof. Emer got the last two suitcases and waited for Dalton to pay the driver, while the rest of the men scurried aboard and deposited the hat boxes and valises on the deck near the companionway which led to the passenger's quarters. Emer was nearing the top of the gangway, with Dalton in the lead, when she suddenly saw the rope coming uncoiled from the shackle. "Watch out, it's going to fall!" Emer cried. She pushed Dalton onto the deck and threw the suitcases aboard. The gangplank spun violently as the rope gave way. Emer leapt for the ship's deck, landing on her elbows and chest as the wooden board fell twenty feet and crashed down onto the cobblestones below, splintering into fragments. Her legs kicked as she tried to find a foothold to push herself up to safety, but there was none. The splinters from the deck tore into her palms, and her nails shredded as she clung on. Emer couldn't even call for help, for the wind had been knocked out of her by the impact of her fall. "I've got you, Emer, I've got you," a deep voice reassured her. She felt her hand grasped in one of Dalton's massive ones. More splinters dug into her forearms and elbows as he dragged her onto the deck to safety. Then he turned her over on her back and helped her to her feet. Before she could stop him, he flicked up the bottom of her shirt. "I'm sure you must have broken your ribs with that fall. Let me have a look." He suddenly placed his hands right on her breasts. Both started back in surprised dismay. "Good God, you're a woman!" Dalton gasped, deeply shocked and

embarrassed. One of his hands still stayed under the shirt, and moved to clasp her about the waist, while his other hand plucked the sea cap from her head, allowing her cascade of lush burgundy hair, which Emer hadn't had time to plait that morning, to tumble down around her shoulders to below her hips. "What difference does that make? Would you have let me to fall to my death if you had known?" Emer wheezed sarcastically in an effort to hid her discomfiture. She stepped back from Dalton's grasp, and managed to conceal her burning hot cheeks as she bent her head to tie her hair back and bundle it into her cap again. "No, not at all, I just mean I would never have presumed to.... Oh hell, you know full well what I mean," he barked, conscious of several pairs of eyes focused upon their altercation curiously. Emer was given no chance to reply as the captain came bustling up to her and asked with evident concern, "Good God, lass, are you all right? The wife and I saw the whole thing from the poop deck. You saved this man's life. If you hadn't pushed him out of the way, you'd both have been killed for certain!" "Captain, allow me to introduce Mr. Dalton Randolph, the man who came looking for you yesterday, our passenger. Mr. Randolph, may I present Captain Samuel Jenkins," Emer rasped as she held her aching sides. "And now, if you'll excuse me, I'll go below and start preparing that roast beef and Yorkshire pudding I promised you, Captain Jenkins," Emer said with a glaring look at Dalton as she started to hobble away. "Wait, Emer. The Captain's right, you did save me, and I'm very grateful," Dalton said, daring to look into her aqua eyes. Emer shrugged her shoulders. "You've repaid the favour, and more importantly, I've rescued your suitcases as well, so we can get underway at last," she said, scooping them off the deck, before making her way below. She only hoped Dalton would have the sense not to follow her after what had just happened. Her cheeks flamed, but even worse, she hated to admit how much she had enjoyed the feel of his big strong hand around her waist, touching her hair....

Good Lord, I must be coming down with some sort of disease, she thought to herself with a groan as she went back out for the rest of his boxes. Hell, I don't even like the man. A more ill-tempered, smug.... Handsome.... Emer never got to finish her catalogue of Dalton's many qualities which both intrigued and infuriated her, for the subject of her resentful thoughts materialised now, and insisted on helping her with the largest valise. "Really sir, there's no need. I'm the cabin boy. It's my job," she said, visibly bristling, as the sweat trickled down her back, and her unruly hair began to tumble down her back and into her eyes again. "Can we please stop this undignified struggle!" Dalton gritted out as he tugged at the handle of the bag, and Emer right along with it. "You're hurt, and only making things worse with your stiff-necked pride." Emer lost her footing and would have tumbled head-first down the companionway had Dalton not reached out and grabbed her around the waist, pulling her against his solid bulk protectively. "You stubborn little witch, you seem intent on breaking your neck aboard this ship, don't you!" he growled as he pressed her to him even more firmly, trying to subdue her struggles. But the pressure on her ribs was excruciating, and she practically shrieked, "Let me go!" Garvan was over to her side in an instant, and pulled Emer away. "That woman is my fiance, sir! I'll thank you to treat her more civilly, and keep your hands off her!" Garvan said menacingly, clenching his fists. "No, Garvan, you don't understand, he was stopping me from falling down the stairs. It's just that my ribs are so sore from my fall on deck a moment ago that I was in agony. He didn't mean to hurt me." Garvan looked at her for a moment, then nodded curtly. "So sorry, both of you. My mistake." Dalton bowed politely, though his eyes glittered dangerously as he sized up the handsome, strapping figure of Garvan and felt an unfathomable jealousy sear his insides.

"Please, Mr. Randolph, this way to your cabin," Emer said with as much dignity as she could muster considering all she wanted to do was howl in agony, and led the way. "I didn't mean to crush you. I just didn't want you to tumble down the stairs," Dalton apologised gruffly. "And I certainly didn't want to interfere with you and your beau." "He's not really my beau. He's just a man from my village that the gossips decided to marry me off to," Emer revealed, too sore and tired to care about what impression she was making by telling the truth so bluntly. She pushed the door open and placed the bags on the floor in front of the bunk. "Would you like me to help you unpack, sir?" "Later. First I would like you to tell me just what the hell the captain thinks he's doing employing a woman as a cabin boy!" Dalton snapped as he pushed her down onto the bunk by her shoulder, and towered over her. Emer blinked. Then she replied quickly, "We came when our estate was cleared, looking for work in Dublin. The captain was ten crewmen down, and the shipping agent said he couldn't hire any men permanently because they all had to be Canadian. "We needed a place to live while we looked for jobs, so I offered myself and the rest of the family as crew if we could stay the week. Since we haven't managed to find any work in Dublin, we've remained on board for the duration of the voyage." "And what did you do before you came here? Farmed the land?" Dalton asked abruptly. "We bred and trained horses, sir, on Lord Devlin's estate." "Surely you didn't do that as well, did you?" Dalton asked with a stare of disbelief. "No, I was the governess to Lord Devlin's two daughters." Dalton stared at her, horrified. "A governess! And yet you're here now dressed like a boy, fetching and carrying, cleaning out the chamberpots," Dalton asked in disbelief. "And mending the sails, swabbing the decks, climbing the rigging, and anything else that needs doing, aye, sir," Emer said proudly. "I'm not a slacker, sir. You have no need to worry. Your cabin

will be spotless, and you have only to ring if you need anything, and myself or my brother Cathan will come." "That's not what I'm complaining about, and you know it," he scolded, pointing a long finger directly in her face accusingly. "The work is far too heavy and degrading for a woman." Emer tossed her head as she stood up, sending the rest of her hair tumbling down her back all over again. "I've been doing it for the past eight days, and so far I haven't noticed myself dropping from exhaustion or being mistreated or degraded. "Now, if you have nothing further to criticise me for, sir, I have dinner to prepare, and you might like to go up on deck to watch us sail out of the harbour and up the coast." Emer stormed out of Dalton's stateroom and slammed the door behind her, and marched into the kitchen. "Cathan, get the scissors," she ordered decisively as she yanked off her cap. "Oh no, I can't, Mam and Da will kill us both for sure," Cathan protested when Emer demanded he cut her hair to shoulder-length. "Just do it. It will be more clean, easier to keep clean and to dry, and from the looks of some of the passengers below, a better way of avoiding lice. Go on, cut it all off." Her brother reluctantly grabbed a handful, and soon her unruly locks tumbled riotously around her face and hung down to just below her shoulders. She found a leather thong and pulled the thick mane back, and threw her sea cap in the corner. Then she wrapped the long tail of auburn hair in a cloth for safe-keeping. She could always sell it to a wig maker if times got hard in Canada. "There, that's much cooler now. Thanks, little brother. Now, let's get this roast done and those vegetables scrubbed and boiled." Through the portholes in the galley, Emer could look out and see the Pegasus gliding gracefully through the harbour. Her stomach began to flutter with excitement as she realised she was finally going to Canada. She heard the canvas sails wafting overhead as they caught the breeze, and longed to be on deck. She hurriedly beat the eggs and milk together for the Yorkshire pudding, then added the flour, which she sieved rapidly into the bowl. Wiping her hands on her cook's apron, she went out onto the

quarterdeck, where she saw all the steerage passengers lining both sides of the ship as they bid Dublin a final farewell. There was a great deal of sadness, but also jocularity as people began to swap information on what they knew about Canada. "Sure, doesn't everyone say America's streets are paved with gold?" "I'm not so sure about Canada," another man replied worriedly. "Maybe they're paved with silver then," a quick-witted wag answered. Emer began to laugh, and her spirits soared, until suddenly a ship just coming into the harbour fired off a signal gun, and the people on deck all ran to the starboard side to see what the disturbance was all about. "'Tis the end of Ireland! 'Tis the end of Ireland!" a man shrieked as he wept and moaned on the deck of the other ship. "What has happened?" Captain Jenkins called over to the other vessel. "Daniel O'Connell is dead! He died on the 15th of this month in Genoa while trying to go see the Holy Father in Rome!" came the chilling reply. Everyone on the deck except the crew crossed themselves, and dozens began to weep. Emer's eyes glittered with unshed tears, and she tried to find her way blindly to the galley. She walked unseeingly into Dalton's chest as he stood to block her way. His hands came up around her waist to steady her footing. "Good God, woman, what you've you done to all your lovely hair!" "Let me go," she whispered as her tears began to fall, and her ribs throbbed at the pressure of his vice-like grip. "You're not well," Dalton insisted. "You've had a bad fall, and there is no sense in trying to carry on being brave in your condition. You must have someone see to your bruises." "I'm perfectly fine," Emer protested as she managed to back into the corridor in the hopes of fleeing to the safety of the galley.

But as if to belie her own words, Emer's head began to swim, and with one last sigh, her eyes rolled up into her head and she fainted dead away. CHAPTER NINE Dalton reacted quickly when he saw Emer about to faint. He clutched her around her waist with one arm, while with the other he scooped up her legs, and hurriedly brought her into the captain's cabin. "I'm sorry I didn't knock," Dalton apologised to the startled Mrs. Jenkins as he pushed in through the partly open door. "But you can see she was hurt badly when she fell. Have you anything for bruises?" "I do, but you can't leave her here. The men will be coming in for their dinner in a moment," Mrs. Jenkins said, stammering in agitation. "Can you take her down to her berth, in the gallery below, the one on the same side of the ship as your stateroom? I'll look in the medicine chest to see if we have any liniment." Nodding curtly at the woman, who seemed more interested in ship's protocol than helping the injured, Dalton withdrew from the stateroom, and carried Emer down the ladder. He managed to slide open the door to Emer's room with one finger, and stepped inside the tiny cubicle. He laid the prone form gently on the bunk, and then went to his own room for some brandy and smelling salts. While there, Dalton also removed his jacket and loosened his cravat, and then unpacked one of his lockers hurriedly as he searched for a heavy bolt of linen. He unwound several yards of it, and snipped them off haphazardly with a pair of nail scissors from his toilet case. Then he returned to Emer's berth, and stripped her shirt off as he examined the bruises. Her chest was indeed black and blue, but as he felt her sides tenderly he was relieved to find that at least no ribs had been broken. Dalton was just finishing his examination of Emer when the captain's wife walked in, and gasped. "I'm sorry, I know what it must look like, my being alone with the girl partly clad like this, but I trained in London for a time to be a doctor. At least I know something about broken bones," Dalton revealed as he looked at the large pot of ointment Mrs. Jenkins had brought.

"Ah, arnica. A French concoction, but it will do in this case. And I have some linen to give her sides a bit of support if the ribs are cracked. If I sit her up, will you do the honours and wind it around her tightly?" Mrs. Jenkins's tense expression eased when she heard Dalton's explanation regarding his medical skills, and readily did as he instructed, no longer suspicious of his intentions toward the girl. "That's good, very good," Dalton encouraged the captain's wife as she wrapped the piece of cloth around Emer's slender frame. Then he split one end, and tied it in a secure knot at the back. "There, a fine job, if I may say so, Mrs. Jenkins. And if she wants to get the bandage off, she'll need someone else to help her. If I may, I'll keep hold of this cream for the next few days, and monitor her progress," Dalton said as he sat back, satisfied with their work. "Now, we can give her the brandy, and a bit of morphine for the pain," he said, before wafting the small bottle of sal volatile under Emer's nose. Emer coughed and spluttered, then clutched her sides with a groan as the pain rocketed through her. "I'm sorry. That must have hurt. Here, drink some of this," Dalton urged, as he saw her wince. He pressed the small flask of brandy to her lips. She drank it obediently like a small child, then began to sputter anew. "Here, drink up." "It burns." "Aye, but you've had a shock. Go on, all of it, my girl." She grimaced at the fiery liquid, but did as she was told. Dalton now gave her a second glass with a small amount of morphine mixed into it. "That will help you to rest, and will ease the pain." "I can't rest! The meal...." "Is just fine, my dear. The roast is exquisite, and the Yorkshire pudding batter is just about cooked. Cathan and one of your other brothers are looking after the captain's table at the moment, so I'll just say you're running some errands for me, and you can stay in bed until supper time," Mrs. Jenkins said kindly.

"No, really," Emer protested, but fell back on the pillows as her head spun. "I think that puts an end to your arguments, my child," the older woman said with sharp look. "Now, if you don't mind, Mr. Randolph has to eat his dinner, and I have to play mother with the teapot upstairs, so you go to sleep, there's a good girl. I'll wake you at four so you can start preparing supper, but only if you feel up to it. Otherwise, we'll make do with Cathan, or we can send to the hold for your mother or one of your sisters to help us all out until you're feeling better." "I'm fine. No need to trouble them or my family. I'll just rest here," Emer promised, and shut her eyes. But Dalton was reluctant to leave. She was behaving far too meekly, and she needed to rest. So he elected to stay to keep an eye on the girl, if only to protect her from her own headstrong nature. "I had a very late breakfast, Mrs. Jenkins, so if you don't mind, I'll sit here with Emer for a few more minutes, just until she nods off, and then join you. Please make my excuses to the captain for me for my tardiness." He smiled in his most charming manner. "Yes, I shall. And thank you for all your help and kindness towards the little lass," Mrs. Jenkins said gratefully. She left him alone with Emer in the narrow quarters. "There's no need to stay, I'll be fine," Emer reassured the disturbing man who sat beside her stroking her hair back from her face with a cool cloth and holding a glass of water to her lips. "I'll stay until you fall asleep. So tell me, what did they all mean about that man Daniel O'Connell?" Dalton asked curiously as he nursed her. "'The Great Liberator,' that's what we all called him. He was a brilliant statesman who tried to win the vote for all Catholics in Ireland, not just propertied ones, and also started all sorts of movements to help the condition of the poor all over Ireland." "So he was a radical," Dalton said dismissively. "More than that, he was a revolutionary," Emer explained enthusiastically. "He had so many marvellous ideas, which he and his colleagues published in a newspaper called The Freeman's Journal." "A dangerous nationalist and subversive trying to overthrow the economic system of the country," Dalton said, quoting what he had

read in the paper that morning. "You really hate me, don't you," Emer remarked quietly, before her eyes shut, and sleep finally claimed her. Dalton pulled open her lids to peer into her eyes, and saw she was indeed out cold. He stroked her petal soft cheek gently, and murmured, "Hate you? My dear, if only you knew...." He leaned over and planted a soft kiss on her lips, then pulled the door shut behind him before returning to his quarters. He adjusted his clothing, and then went up to begin his assessment of Captain Jenkins, and enjoy the magnificent meal which Emer had prepared.

CHAPTER TEN By the evening, Emer's ribs felt a great deal better, and she was moving about a bit more like her old self. But she still found Dalton's presence on the ship most disturbing. His constant perusal with his golden eyes, and his perpetual stream of criticism were very unsettling, so she sent Cathan in to wait at table that night. The meal went off without a hitch, and she breathed a sigh of relief as Cathan returned with the last of the dishes and moved to pick up the pot of coffee and the cheese board and fruit basket. Suddenly Dalton's face appeared around the door. Emer nearly dropped the walnut cake she had baked as she heard a voice bark, "You should be resting in bed!" "I'm fine, really," Emer argued as she tried to brush back a stray lock of hair from her brow. "And you certainly shouldn't be lifting anything heavy," he continued as he took the cake out of her hands. "Please, Mr. Randolph, if the captain finds you here we'll all be in trouble. Besides, if I lay around in bed, and you keep taking me to task, I'm going to lose my position as cabin boy. So please, I know you don't approve of me, but for the sake of my poor family, just go now," Emer pleaded, tears of frustration and misery springing to her eyes. Why did Dalton Randolph seem so intent on persecuting her? She wondered wildly. "I'm sorry, let me start again," Dalton murmured, as he unthinkingly lifted his hand up to brush the stray lock of hair gently out of her eyes. "I actually came to compliment you on the fine meal, and walnut cake is my absolute favorite." He smiled then, showing even white teeth. Emer's aqua eyes gazed up at his face, completely mesmerized at the

transformation a simple smile had brought to his handsome visage. "What's wrong, have I got spinach in between my teeth or something," he asked as Emer continued to stare. "No, no, it's just that you look completely different when you smile, friendly, almost, well, almost human," Emer marveled, spellbound. "You ought to smile more often." "I'll have to remember to leave the horns and tail behind from now on. Or is it possible you bring out the devil in me, Emer?" Dalton teased, suddenly feeling cheerful and content. "I'm sure my brother Cormac would agree with the latter statement, sir. But I have a feeling in general that you're an absolute fiend towards your workers and servants," Emer answered truthfully. Dalton acknowledged to himself that she was right. "How do you know I have workers and servants?" he asked gruffly, trying to get the upper-hand once again. "They go with the fine clothes, expensive luggage, and your overall demeanor, of expecting your orders to be law and instantly complied with, and a general disregard for anyone else's feelings," Emer replied directly, as she finally managed to tear her eyes away from his enthralling golden stare. Dalton's nostrils flared, and he stepped back. "And you accused me of hating you!" He stormed out of the galley with the cake and cheese board, leaving Emer and Cathan to stare at each other in bewilderment. Cathan whistled. "That man's like mercury, constantly changing! You never know what he'll be like next!" "You're telling me." "Whatever you do, stay away from him, Sis. You wouldn't want to lose your job and berth here because of him." "We could always swap chores, you know. I can go below, and you stay up here," she suggested, before turning back to organising the coffee. Cathan shook his head. "No, Mrs. Jenkins would have a fit if she caught me cooking for the captain. But if you want me to do Mr. Randolph's stateroom and so on, I'll see if I can fit it in."

"We'll wait and see. If we get a chance to change duties, then yes. Knowing him, he'd go around with a white glove waiting for me to pick up individual specks of dust," Emer said, mimicking Dalton's habit of regarding everything with intense scrutiny. Then she crossed her eyes comically, so that they both fell about laughing. Cathan went to bring in the coffee, and as he cleared the dinner dishes, Emer washed them up quickly. She knew she was being cowardly not returning to the captain's cabin, but with the way she felt about Dalton Randolph, she was convinced she'd either drop the plates from sheer nerves, or throw them at his smug face. When Emer finished with that batch of washing up, she went below to join Tomas and Ultan, who were helping serve up the crew's meal in their dining room, which ran along the starboard side of the deck amidships. The stew she had helped Cathan prepare was going down very well, and she squashed in beside the brothers at the end of the table as she began to eat her share hungrily. Cathan came down a few minutes later, and they all compared notes on their first day at sea. All the brothers were content except Tomas, who openly admitted he hated the rigging. "I'll ask Mr. Bradley the mate to help us. I'm sure we can use another kitchen boy down here with all these mouths to feed," Emer said quietly. Tomas beamed at her with gratitude. Then the men who had been on watch came down for their share of the meal, and Cormac and Martin gratefully took the plates Emer offered, though Cormac never said a word to his sister. After the meal came the washing up and drying of all the dishes, so it was well after nine before Emer and Cathan finished in the galley. Then they had to go all around the ship with the lamp trimmer as the sun dipped below the horizon. As she crossed the quarterdeck amidships, she saw the steerage passengers were just finishing cooking their evening meals, and the smell of oats and turnips wafted powerfully through the still air. Just then some of the musicians from the Kilbracken estate came up onto the deck and with Emer's two sisters, Brona and Cara.

Emer saw that Brona was keeping company with Michael Molloy, a tall, well-built young farmer of about twenty whom they had known vaguely ever since he and his widowed mother had arrived on the estate about a year before. Emer also observed Cara making her usual sheep's eyes at Reamann Lynch, but he came up to Emer instead and twirled her around as he insisted on having the first dance. "No, no, I couldn't possibly, not dressed like this, but Cara is willing," Emer said, doing a bit of shameless match-making. "But if any ladies lack a partner, I can always dance the man's part as well." Her other sister Roisin popped her head down the hatch when she heard the band strike up a reel, and ran over to her sister. "Please will you dance with me, Emer?" "But you've been in bed seasick," Emer scolded, looking at her sister's white face. "I'm much better now, honestly. Just the first couple of figures of the dance, and then we'll let another couple in?" Roisin pleaded. "All right, my dear, two figures and that's it." One man called the figure for the dancers unsure of the movements, but since it was only a two-couple dance, a quadrille, it was relatively simple for everyone to follow. Emer didn't bother to look around the deck until the second figure, when she had to go across the set to change places with the opposite couple. Suddenly she found herself looking straight into Dalton's enormous golden eyes as he watched the dance. In spite of herself she risked a tentative smile. He smiled back, enjoying the view of her dancing so lightly on her feet with what he assumed to be one of her younger sisters in tow. After the third figure, Roisin admitted to being tired. Emer was about to give up their place in the set, when Dalton came forward, dressed only in his shirt, trousers, and waistcoat, and asked her if she would be so kind as to dance with him. "You'll have to push me in the right direction though," he warned. "But I've been dancing as a man. It will confuse people," she hesitated.

Dalton laughed heartily. "Even in those clothes it would be hard to describe you as anything other than womanly." "Here, Emer, take my shawl, and tie it around you," Roisin offered. She threw it across to her. Emer did as her sister had suggested. The flowered paisley shawl accentuated her small waist and shapely hips hidden under the baggy cotton duck trousers as she tied the ends around herself twice and made a bow at the side. "Right, ladies first, making a chain, so she will come across, take your left hand, and you put her around your back and follow her to face forward again. Then I will come back and we swing, my right hand to your left, just like in a ballroom, only you push off with your left foot, keeping your right one close to mine. Then we go forward and back, then dance in place, then forward and back, then we make a big circle, all four of us, to swing, and do the same again." "Just kick me, and I do promise to try not to trod on you or hurt your ribs again," Dalton said with a slightly dazed look on his face. The caller told them to get ready, and then the music began to play. "Slabhra na mban! Luaschadh! Isteach! Amach! Sa bhaile! Isteach! Amach! Luaschadh mhor! Aris!" "Ladies chain, swing, in, out, dance at home, in, out, big swing, again," Emer translated for Dalton loudly above the din. She began to laugh when the two men spun the ladies so vigorously that their feet began to lift off the ground. "Put us down, we have to do another ladies' chain!" Emer chuckled, and promptly landed on Dalton's foot as he tried to get ready to start again. "Sorry!" she apologised, wide-eyed with embarrassment. "Don't worry, my dear, you're as light as a feather." Dalton smiled then, and squeezed her hand, before relinquishing it as she crossed the floor to the man opposite for another ladies' chain. When Emer returned, Dalton once again marvelled at the slim strength of her lithe body as they swung around in a circle together. His hand lingered around her waist, savouring the contact. He became more and more convinced that all women should dispense with corsets.

They danced the rest of the set together without any further mishaps, and then Dalton bowed to her politely. "Would you care to try another, or are you too tired?" "I don't think I should. My ribs, you know. Besides, there are plenty of other women in the room lacking partners. It would be ungallant of me to monopolise a real gentleman, especially when I can dance the men's parts also," Emer declined, as her other two sisters ran up giggling. "It's to be the Talavera set next, Emer. You will dance it with Roisin, won't you?" "Have you all got partners? Because if you don't, this is Mr. Randolph, and he would be pleased to take a turn about the floor with you." Suddenly Emer's other sister Maeve appeared, and said, "I'd love to dance!" Dalton knew sheer frustration as Emer partnered her youngest sister, while he was left with Roisin. Though all of the girls were pretty in a fair-haired, wholesome sort of way, none of them had the same sparkle as their burgundy-haired sister, who had flung off the shawl around her hips with a flourish, and was dancing barefoot around to deck as though she had been born and raised on board a rocking ship. Emer kept an eye on Dalton throughout all of the seven figures of the dance, and they laughed jovially at his mistakes. Emer and Reamann danced the leading parts in the dance to show Dalton and Roisin and Brona and Michael, and occasionally they had to push and prod them into place. When Dalton had to promenade his partner, he had a tantalizing chance to touch Emer's soft shoulder as they circled around, but there was no opportunity for him to dance with her again, even though they frequently got to change partners and he had to dance with all the ladies in the set. But he got a chance to observe Emer with her family, and the way she danced was pure poetry in motion, she was so graceful yet lively. Dalton also noticed with a frown that her brother-in-law Reamann couldn't take his eyes off her, and as they danced the seventh and last figure, Reamann grasped Emer around the waist and stood her up on a barrel. "A song now, me darlin'!" he declared loudly for all to hear. They

echoed his request. "Let me catch my breath first," Emer panted, blushing prettily. She tried to get down off the barrel, but her way was blocked by her sisters. "Go on, Emer, a song!" some of the more bold Kilbracken girls taunted, for they knew she was shy about singing in public, and wished to embarrass her in front of the fine gentleman who kept staring at her as though he had never seen a woman before. Emer knew what they were up to, and for once she decided she didn't care. Her family had always said she had a lovely voice, even if she was too shy to do anything other than sing in front of her own brothers and sisters. The Kilbracken girls had seen her shyness as just another way of accusing her of being stuck up, so Emer took a deep breath, and stood tall. "Donall Og," she announced, and began to sing: A Dhnall ig, m thir thar farraige Beir m fin leat, is n dan do dhearmad; Beidh agat firin l aonaigh is margaidh, Is in'on r Grige mar chile leapa agat. M thirse anonn t comhartha agam ort: T coel fionn is dh shoeil ghlasa agat, Dh chocn dag id choel bui bchallach, Mar bheadh bel na b n rs i ngarraithe. Is danach arir a labhair an gadhar ort, Do labhair an naoscach sa chorraich'n doimhin ort Is t id chaona' aonair ar fud na gcoillteIs go rabhair gan chile go brth go bhfaighir m.

Do gheallais domhsa, agus d'insis brag dom, Go mbeife romhamsa ag cr na gcaorach; Do ligeas fead agus tr' chad glaoch chughat, Is n' bhfuaireas ann ach uan ag miligh. Do gheallais domhsa, n' ba dheacair duit Loingeas ir faoi chrann seoil airgid, Dh bhaile dhg de bhailte margaidh Is coeirt bhre aolta coi taobh na farraige. Do gheallais domhsa, n' nrbh fhidir, Go dtarbharf limhne do chroiceann isc dom, Go dtarbharf brga de chroiceann an dom, Is culaith den tseoda ba dhaoire in irinn. Och ochn, agus n' le hocras, Uireasa b'dh, d', n codlata Faoi deara domhsa bheith tana' trochailte, Ach grea fir ig is bhreoigh go follas m. Do bhainis soir d'om is do bhainis siar d'om, Do bhainis romham is do bhainis im dhiaidh d'om, Do bhainis gealach is do bhainis grian d'om, 's is ro-mhr 'eagla gur bhainis Dia d'om. When Emer had finished singing, there was a huge round of applause, and several damp pairs of eyes. Emer also noted with some satisfaction that her old enemies looked

positively green with envy. "What about you next, Margaret?" she called sweetly to one haughty lass whom she had a voice like a corncrake. Everyone burst out laughing. "Time for me to go," Emer said as she bounded off the barrel and into Reamann's waiting arms. "Cooks like a chef, sings like an angel, and has brains to burn," he praised to all who could hear. "And is old enough to be your grandmother!" Emer retorted, as she pushed him in the direction of the pining Cara, and then found herself staring at Dalton's shirt-front. She risked a look up and saw him smiling down at her with what might almost have passed for a kind look. "You have a beautiful voice. The tune was lovely, even if I couldn't understand a word," Dalton praised sincerely. Emer blushed and tried to move away, but he caught hold of her elbow, and insisted, "No, you can't go until you translate it for me. I want to know if the words are as lovely as the tune. Is it a love song?" "Aye, it is. All right, let me think a moment," Emer said as she moved up against the wall to avoid the couples lining up for another dance. "The song is called 'Young Donald,' and the first verse is, 'Young Donald, if you cross the ocean, Take me with you and don't forget, And on market day you'll get your present: A Greek King's daughter with you in bed.' Dalton's eyebrows lifted slightly and Emer blushed again. "Well, I warned you it was a love song, a rather suggestive one in that section, but the rest is very haunting." "Go on, you have no need to be embarrassed," Dalton urged. Emer took a deep breath, and continued,

"The second verse says, 'But if you leave I have your description, Blond hair you have, and two eyes of green, Twelve yellow curls in your crinkled hair Like to a cowslip or garden rose. Last night late the dog announced you And the snipe announced you deep in the marsh. You were ranging the woods, out there by yourself. May you lack a wife until you find me. You promised me, but you told a lie You'd be at the sheepfold waiting for me. I gave a whistle and three hundred calls, Yet there was nothing but a lamb bleating. A thing you promised and it was hard: A golden ship with masts of silver, A dozen towns, all market towns, And a lime white mansion beside the ocean. A thing you promise and it impossible You would give me the gloves of the skin of fishes You would give me the shoes of the skin of birds And a suit of the dearest silk in Ireland. O misery!- and it isn't hunger Or the want of food or drink or sleep Is the reason I am so thin and haggard: It's plain to see I am sick for my young man's love.

You took my east and you took my west You took before and after from me, You took the moon and you took the sun, And I greatly fear that you took my God.' "That's it, that's the translation," Emer concluded. "It's beautiful," he murmured, though from the way Dalton was looking at her she wasn't sure exactly what he was referring to, the song, or her hair. "You have to feel sorry for the woman, being deceived like that," he said uncomfortably, as the silence between them grew. "Oh, I don't know, some people like to be deceived. They fall in love with unsuitable people they can't trust, who aren't good for them, and they have to make the best of it," Emer replied with shrug as she glanced at Reamann and Cara laughing together, and saw Cormac and his wife Ailis across from them on the far side of the deck. "Or they marry for money, wealth, land," she added, with a pointed look at her sister Brona, who was clinging on to Michael Molloy's arm as if for dear life. Dalton read her looks, and said in a cool tone, "But you're engaged yourself. Tell me about the charming young Garvan." "There's nothing to tell," Emer replied honestly. "The girls who have just taunted me about my singing made fun of me for never having walked out with a man. We were at a dance, they all wanted Garvan, so to spite them I danced with him all night. "The next thing you know, the village gossips paired us off. I've had little say in the matter since, though I've tried to tell him we're not suited, and I would never marry without love." "But he's handsome, solid, reliable. You could do worse," Dalton remarked, though it cost him an effort to say it. "For a woman of my class you mean?" she said sharply. "I never said-" She shook her head. "You didn't have to. And in some senses, you

would be right. But we have no shared interests. I don't feel drawn to him, you know, er, physically, like in the song. And people have to be truthful with one another about who they are. "Their relationship in the song seems to be based upon nothing but deception. He lies to her, and she deceives herself into thinking he will take her with him. Then when he leaves her behind, she's heart-broken." She shook her head and sighed. "No, I shall marry for love or not at all, and I shall certain never marry for money. I'm not interested in golden ships or lime-white mansions, just true love." Dalton felt a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach at her words. She looked up and misinterpreted his expression. "Of course, you probably think there's no such thing as true love." "It hasn't been within the realm of my experience, no," he said stiffly. "Or that the man is justified, going off the make his fortune unencumbered by the girl and her fantasies. But there's something rather sad about Young Donald wandering around the woods at night all alone, unable to sleep, perhaps, because he's searching for the right woman, or because he's so discontent with his life, and roams from place to place thinking that travel will help him escape his woes." Dalton's face went stony, and he could stand the torture of her innocent remarks no longer. With a small bow, he thanked Emer for her company, and stalked into his stateroom without a backward glance. Once in the privacy of his cabin, he grabbed the brandy bottle and glass, and gulped down a goodly measure. Then he hurled himself into the one chair in the cabin, and sighed. She had cut too close to the bone in her interpretation of the man's predicament, for it reminded Dalton painfully of his own restless dissatisfaction with his life. Damn the woman, if she wasn't the most infuriating... lovely girl he had ever met. Emer blinked at his retreating back, and concluded once again that Dalton Randolph really disliked her. Shrugging forlornly, she said good night to the rest of her family and climbed up the ladder to the open deck to go see her parents.

After only a few minutes' chat with them, however, she couldn't stifle her yawns any longer, and kissing them and the children good night, she retired to her own quarters. Emer climbed into bed exhaustedly, and blew out her lantern to lay in the dark to look up at the stars. She wiggled around until she could poke her head and shoulders out of the porthole, and lay on her back gazing up at the millions of tiny sparkling lights in the sky. A movement out of the corner of her eye caught Emer's attention, and she saw Dalton several yards away manoeuvring his own head through one of his portholes. He looked straight at her. Timidly she stuck out one hand and waved. Dalton waved back after a few moments, and they both lay silently looking up at the stars for several minutes. Then Emer waved once more, called a soft good night, and went back inside her own room, where she closed the glass, and turned over on her side, cradling her cheek on her two hands. Isn't it strange, a man like that, gazing at the stars, she thought to herself, as she drifted off to sleep. Isn't that odd, she had the same thought I did, looking out like that, Dalton marvelled, once again feeling inexplicably drawn to the fiery young women with wild hair and fathomless eyes. For Dalton, haunted by visions of Emer's lovely body, vibrant face, and soft skin which he ached to touch, sleep was a long time coming.

CHAPTER ELEVEN Emer rose at four the following morning, and all her chores went smoothly until the store master came in to her in a state of despair. "You're not going to believe what they've done! We handed out to the steerage passengers a week's worth of oats yesterday, and every last one of them has eaten the whole lot!" Emer looked up from the breakfast dishes, and sighed. "There's no need to get so angry, Jim. Some of those people from the west of Ireland haven't eaten a good meal in months by the look of them. Perhaps the others just didn't understand it was meant to last a whole week." "We've only enough food on board for fifty days for the ship's passengers and crew. We'd better hope we don't have a long sailing at this rate. And now you and I are going to have to hand them out their allowance once a day." "But a pound of oats is scarcely enough for them to live on, with no milk or butter or anything else! You can't blame them for being poor and hungry," Emer argued. "Is it possible to get food from somewhere else for them also?" "What do you mean?" Jim frowned.

She looked at him in mild exasperation. "Well, the last I heard, the sea was full of fish. Couldn't we rig up some fishing lines, and whatever they catch, they can eat?" "Captain might not like it," Jim said sullenly. "Since you're going to have to tell him about the stores anyway, I should think you could ask him. After all, what harm can it do? Why not explain how poor they are. Some of them come from Donegal, and other places by the sea. If you give them a fishing line and some bait, I'm sure they will manage." "All right, but you come with me to the captain now, and then we have to get down into the hold to distribute today's rations," Jim stated flatly. "Oh, no, you go. I'll get Cathan and meet you...." Emer hesitated, wishing to avoid Dalton after his abrupt behavior towards her the night before. "It's your idea, so you're coming with me," Jim said firmly, propelling her along to the door of the captain's cabin, where he knocked sharply. The captain, running late because he had had to make some adjustments to the sails to catch the slight breeze, still sat at the table, with Dalton by his side. Emer shunned his gleaming golden gaze as she stood silently looking at the floor while Jim explained the situation regarding the ship's stores. "Emer here suggested, with your permission, Captain that we let these Irish westerners who have no food do some fishing for themselves, with a few lines and bait, like. Emer says they all used to eat about ten to fourteen pound of potatoes a day before the blight, so a pound of oatmeal a day really wouldn't be enough for them." "Oh, she does, does she? But we can't just have them wandering around everywhere fishing!" Captain Jenkins said impatiently. "Limit it to the forepeak, sir, and they won't be in the crew's way," Emer piped up, with a sideways peek at Dalton, who was still staring fixedly at her. "Right, I shall let you do it, then. If the wretches are starving, they are far more likely to get ill or die when the weather gets

rough. And believe me, it will," Captain Jenkins predicted grimly. "Right, see to it, Mr. Beckett, Miss Nugent, and report back if there are any problems." "Thank you, sir." Emer smiled, relieved. She then went below with the store master to dole out the rations into the small burlap bags which each passenger had been given. She and Cathan and Jim weighed and measured and poured the oats into bags unceasingly, until they were certain all had received their allotment. It was hot down on the deck reserved for their cooking with the fires blazing, and fights soon broke out about who was going to get to make their breakfast first. Emer suggested they all pool their oats together to get it cooked that much more quickly, then retreated from the melee to look around for some of the passengers from Donegal, who were easily identified because they spoke little or no English. She managed to get hold of some of the more fit ones, and explained to them briefly in Irish the arrangements for the fishing lines. Their weary faces broke into smiles, and one of them reassured her that he would fill a barrel before nightfall if he got the chance. Emer went below and fetched one of the empty oat barrels and brought it up on deck, where she lashed it to the rails with some strong rope. "Let's see you fill this, lads," she said with a grin. Then she brought the other three empty barrels up to lash them to the deck for rainwater. Jim looked over and said, "The Captain won't like that. They might get in the way." "There are no lines here to worry about, and you know yourself, in this hot weather, we'll need more water. Where's the harm in taking advantage of whatever nature sees fit to send us?" Emer argued reasonably. "All right, but if the Captain asks, it was your idea!" "Don't you usually collect rainwater for washing and on?" Emer asked in surprise. "No, miss. We're a logging vessel, you see, so not that many people serve on her. Captain Jenkins hates doing these emigrant

runs, 'cos the company wants us to treat them like animals. Cram as many as we can into the hold, and not bother to feed or water them. "One captain in the Randall fleet boasts he can fit six hundred on board, and his ship is smaller than ours! Last time he landed at the quarantine station on Grosse Ile, two hundred had died, and nearly all the others were sick with fever. "Captain Jenkins will only take so many, but Mr. Randall has complained that he needs to turn more of a profit, or he'll lose his post," Jim revealed, sounding quite aggrieved by the unfairness of the whole system. "But that's inhuman. Six hundred people in a space like the cargo hold below! Why, it's bad enough with two hundred and fifty." She shuddered. "And I reckon some of the captains take on far more than what they claim. The shipping agent is a bit thick with figures and such like. I think some of the captain take as many as they can for their fares, assume that most of them are going to die anyway, and pocket the cash with no one any the wiser." "That's appalling." He nodded. "Some of them don't even provide the necessary stores, even though it's the law now. They buy the food, but sell it for a profit, and again keep the money," Jim said, spitting over the rail in disgust. "It's criminal. Someone should put a stop to it. They're people, the Irish, not animals," Emer said furiously. "Aye, indeed. Look at you, Miss. You didn't want to leave Ireland to come to Canada. You had no choice. None of these poor devils have any choice either, do they?" Emer shook her head. "It's a disgrace. I can't believe anyone would be so cold-hearted and callous. But why doesn't someone tell the head of the shipping company? Get him to see that things are handled more fairly?" "Mr. Randall doesn't care, so long as he turns a profit. What difference does it make to him if they all starve?" Jim shrugged. With that grim remark, he strode away. Emer turned and saw Dalton standing behind her. "More subversive talk now on this ship, this time against your

employer!" Dalton snapped accusingly. "I know nothing of my employer! Mr. Beckett was simply telling me about the practices of some officers less scrupulous than Captain Jenkins," Emer defended herself as she strolled away towards the stern to go below to clean the cabins. "What exactly did Mr. Beckett say?" Dalton demanded as he followed her, and practically bashed his skull in as he forgot to duck under the door. "Damn and blast," he swore roundly as he clutched his brow in agony. Though furious with him for taking her to task yet again, Emer was moved to pity when she saw how badly he was hurt. "Good Lord, you're bleeding, sir. Come, lean on me, and we'll get you down to your cabin." Dalton took the offer of her shoulder as he saw stars. Slight though Emer was, she strongly assisted him as they made their way down the ladder, and she flung open the door to his room. He sat on the bunk, his head throbbing, while she stanched the flow of blood with a cloth, and then held the compress in place until she was certain the bleeding had stopped. "Now, I ask you again, what did Beckett say?" Dalton insisted a few minutes later. Emer repeated what she had been told word for word, while Dalton listened silently. "I see," was all he said at the end of her account. Emer sensed Dalton was displeased with her again, and guessed that he probably didn't believe such a horrendous story. She stepped away from him, and said quietly, "I'll put a plaster on it, sir, and then if you would like to retire to the gallery to do some reading and so on, I shall clean your room." Dalton stalked out as soon as she had finished her ministrations, and she heard him throw himself onto a low bench below the large window at the stern of the ship. Emer busied herself making the bunk, cleaning out the slops, and scrubbing all the surfaces of the cabin to make sure he couldn't find any dust.

Then she folded his clothes from yesterday, which he had flung onto the back of a chair, and took the shirt to be washed. There were also his evening clothes from the night before, and she carefully removed the jewelled pin from his cravat which he had flung to one side, and placed it in a drawer. She still hadn't unpacked all of his luggage after the exciting events of the day before, so she took the opportunity to finish the job, laying everything away neatly. She noticed that Dalton had many fine things, but also observed that they required mending, especially his stockings. Emer decided to make a start on his sewing, and gathered a number of items together from the first drawer. Then she went into the galley, where she soaked the two shirts, and left the sewing in a pile on her small chair. Once she had made her rounds of all the other cabins, scrubbing and tidying and emptying the chamberpots, Emer set the table for dinner, and went to the galley to see what the steward had left for her to prepare. It was a fine leg of lamb, and she found onions, garlic, and even some fresh rosemary. She made crisscrossing scores in the joint in several places, and rubbed in the garlic and rosemary, before putting it on a rack in a roasting pan, and adding a drop of water to the bottom of it. Then Emer put it in the oven to cook slowly, while she scrubbed the potatoes, carrots and parsnips. Next she sat down and began to darn Dalton's stockings. As she wrung out the shirts to dry, she examined them, and replaced the buttons which had been lost with some small horn ones she had in her sewing kit. She hung the shirts on a wooden clotheshorse by the fire to dry, and then Cathan came in with more wash from the crew, and some from her family. "Roisin and Maeve are both seasick. They've made a right old mess down below," Cathan grumbled as he shoved the things into the scalding tub with a stick. "How are the children?

"Fine, but they can't understand why they can't go out to play in the fields. It's going to be hard to keep them busy for the whole voyage," Cathan predicted. "They can take it in turns coming up to visit us, and I do have a couple of small books stored away in my bag for them to practice reading with. How are Mam and Da?" "Tortured trying to keep the place clean below. The privies are already overflowing, and many others have been seasick bedsides the girls. I have to go get some buckets of seawater now to wash the place down," Cathan said, wrinkling his nose. "You be careful. Don't overdo things. And make sure you scrub your hands when you handle the buckets and chamberpots, do you hear?" Emer cautioned as she bent over the tub. "Don't worry about me, Sis, I've scrubbed my hands so much they're nearly raw," Cathan said with a look of disgust on his face at the chores he had done. "Captain says he's going to put more privies up top for the men, in the forepeak, and if the women don't behave themselves, he'll make them use 'em too. Better go, I have a million things to do!" Once he had gone, Emer looked out on deck toward the forepeak and saw Garvan and Oran setting up planks of wood to construct some makeshift waterclosets. Martin and the carpenter were in a deep discussion about the design, judging from their hand gestures, and her brother Cormac was splicing some lines. Emer was satisfied that all her family seemed to be working well, and then looked around for her four brothers-in-law. They were all up aloft, and Tomas seemed to be doing just fine climbing in the rigging. But the wind was very slight, and though their progress had been good past the cliffs of Antrim, the Pegasus seemed to stall around Rathlin Island on the north coast. The captain tacked and veered in an effort to catch some wind. It was exhausting work, requiring all hands on deck for handling the sails. Emer was disheartened to note that even with all twelve of them unfurled, they were making little headway. Emer returned to her cooking below. The lamb was nearly done, so she put on the vegetables to boil, and then turned to scrub and

rinse the laundry. After she had wrung it out and hung it on the lines near each of the stoves, the meal was ready to be served. She put on her apron over her shirt and trouser, and then took the leg of lamb out of the oven to stand before being carved. Jim Beckett came in to help with the plates, and while he carved the joint for the captain, Emer scraped the bottom of the pan to make a rich thick gravy. As she was working, the mate Patrick Bradley came in to see if all was ready. He watched her for a moment as she readied everything, sniffed the food appreciatively, then commented, "My word, you'll make someone a fine wife one day. No wonder all the men get down on one knee to propose to you all the time." "It's just a little joke." Emer laughed uncomfortably, recalling this second joke they had taken to practising on Cormac, who seemed to avoid her as much as possible now. Emer decided if there were any leftovers, which the captain allowed her and Cathan and the steward to have, she would bring her share to Ailis and the children as a peace offering. Emer tidied her hair, and put on a clean apron before going in to serve the guests. When she got to the dinner table, she overheard Dalton repeating some of what she had told him that morning regarding the corrupt practices carried out by other sea captains, and she blushed. Captain Jenkins, to be fair, did not want to get others into trouble, and so he remained relatively silent. But Emer's blood boiled as she listened to Dalton probing relentlessly for information. This man was using her as some sort of spy? Perhaps he was a shipping agent or a government official, and he was deliberately following her around, inexperienced as she was in the world of shipping politics, in order to try to force her to make incriminating disclosures about the crew. Emer determined that the less she saw of Dalton Randolph, the better for all concerned. At last the uncomfortable meal was over, and the captain rose. "Well, I see, sir, that you take a healthy interest in the emigrant question. I beg you, if you have any influence at all, try to use

it to agitate for better conditions. I'm a humble sea captain, and can do little to help these poor souls. I only wish I could do more. My company's regulations forbid it," he said sincerely. "But you've stretched those regulations, and even broken them," Dalton accused. "For example, you've hired Irish crew, though I'm told it is against the company's policy. So you're just as guilty as the rest of the captains, if indeed they've done all I have heard." Captain Jenkins' teeth ground audibly. "Fine, then I'm guilty, and I admit it. Yes, I feed them. Guilty as charged. Put me in prison for not allowing them to starve, but I make no apology for it, sir. No, I don't cram them into my hold until it is full to bursting. Yes, my wife even helps them when they are sick and needy. If all those acts of charity are crimes, sir, then I am guilty, and I have no intention of denying it. In which case, you may happily report me to the Randall company when we arrive in Quebec. "I am certain of the outcome then. Mrs. Jenkins and I will be thrown off this ship which we have lived on for our whole married life together without a second thought for our motives in breaking Frederick Randall's despicable regulations. Then a less scrupulous captain will be hired to take my place, and the deaths aboard the Pegasus will increase proportionally with his greed. "If you can live with that on your conscience," Captain Jenkins continued bitterly, " then report me by all means. But may I say, at the risk of sounding insolent, that a decent man would see it is a question of honour not to abuse the power he has in his possession. "However, I don't suppose you are willing to admit that. To you and your class it's just a question of money, profits, squeezing as much as you can out of the labour under you to swell your bank balance." "Now hold on a minute," Dalton began to protest. The captain shook his head. "Our crews are amongst some of the worst paid in the world, certainly compared to what they could be earning in the States. But they want to be loyal to the company, and don't wish to be uprooted from their homes like those poor wretches down in the hold. "The crew on this ship do have loyalties, and allegiances. It's just a shame that our employer has let us down by lacking any scruples," Captain Jenkins concluded, as he turned on his heel and marched up the ladder to the poop deck. The two mates and Mrs. Jenkins also fled the room, thus leaving

Emer alone with Dalton. The silence hung heavy between them for a moment. Then she let fly with both barrels. "How dare you come spying here, using me to get you the information you want!"

CHAPTER TWELVE "Spying, Emer? What do you mean-" "Don't you dare try to play me for a fool! You work for the Randall company, don't you, and are trying to get Captain Jenkins the sack! That's why you're here, isn't it!" Emer accused. "No, no, I don't work for the company. I'm just trying to find out something of the nature of this crisis," Dalton denied hotly. Technically at least, he was telling the truth. He didn't work for the company. He and his father Frederick OWNED it. "It's the same crisis the world over," Emer said boldly. "The rich get richer, the poor get poorer, or do you all a favour and die, so that you don't have to worry about what to do with them, laying in the streets begging or dying, and scaring your horses. "But I have a question for you, Mr. Randolph. How much is enough? How much money and profit does it take to satisfy people like you?" Emer swung out of the main cabin and brought back his cleaned and mended laundry a moment later, just as he was about to get up to try to follow her. He stared as he recognised his own things. "Do you have to have dozens of shirts of the finest linen, hundreds of silk cravats, a diamond pin? Just look at those poor wretches fishing off the bow for their next decent meal! Why not come down and see the skeletons who have to subsist on a pound of oatmeal a day, while you dine on roast beef and leg of lamb!" she raged. His golden eyes glittered dangerously as she confronted him face to

face. Emer lowered her voice as she suddenly concluded from the look on his face that he wasn't going to listen to a word she said, and she had probably made the whole situation far worse for everyone aboard. "I'm sorry if you're offended with what I have just said. You can tell Captain Jenkins to dismiss me from service, though it looks like he and Mrs. Jenkins won't be working for the company much longer anyway. "But please don't punish them for my rudeness, any more than you should punish them for being decent, charitable human beings," Emer said with dignity as she could muster considering she was sure her words were falling on deaf ears. Pushing the pile of rich garments into Dalton's arms, she fled from the captain's quarters, leaving him stunned. Dalton turned over the clothes in his hands, and saw how neatly she had mended them. He brought them back down to his stateroom, and for the first time in his life put his own things away in the drawers. Then he removed his coat and waistcoat and lay on the bed with his arms behind his head moodily looking out the porthole at the coast of Ireland as it drifted past. Damned unsettling little woman, meddlesome, opinionated, Dalton grumbled to himself. But all the same he was deeply disturbed by Emer's criticism of his life. Deep down, he had a feeling she might be right. He was selfish and greedy, and no better than his father, for all that he disliked and had struggled against his high-handed ways for so many years, ever since.... Dalton sat up and opened the locker nearest the bed, where he had placed his small medical bag. He had bought it when he was twenty-one, less than six months away from being qualified. His father had destroyed his dream, cutting him off without a penny when he had discovered that his son wasn't at Oxford University after all, but working as a sawbones in St Bartholomews Hospital, London. Despite every rational argument Dalton had presented, Frederick Randall had refused to change his mind, and Dalton, terrified of poverty, had caved in and returned to Canada to work in his father's shipping office.

Since that fatal day over fourteen years ago, he had never been happy. Content, perhaps, but he had missed the excitement of the hospital, the thrill of helping people, saving lives, and he missed his friend Ralph Sommersby. They had been inseparable at Eton, and Ralph's enormous scientific curiosity had fired Dalton with an enthusiasm he had never felt since. Dalton and Ralph had exchanged occasional letters around the holidays and at Christmas ever since, but somehow Dalton felt almost ashamed, as if he had let down the only friend he had ever had in the worst possible way. Dalton looked at the gleaming steel instruments, and the little bottles neatly labelled. He tried to fool himself that he had brought the bag along with him because travel was so hazardous, and doctors were unavailable at worst, or quacks at best. But he knew the medical bag was more than that. It was his one remaining link with the past, and the only time he had ever been truly happy, freed from his father's restraints. The bag was a symbol of a long cherished dream he wished he had had the courage to fight for. But what was the use of keeping it now? Dalton felt the burden of the Randall Shipping company, and his prospective marriage to the beautiful if selfishly spoilt Madeleine Lyndon, like a millstone around his neck. The black leather bag was just another unpleasant reminder of his own weaknesses and failings. Angrily he shoved all the instruments and vials back inside haphazardly, and came to a decision. "There's no sense in looking back. You've made your bed, you just have to lie in it, even if it is made of nails," Dalton muttered loud, and moved to the porthole. Emer, just coming in with fresh towels for the room, saw him trying to heave the bag through the porthole, and cried, "Dalton, don't!" Dalton paused and looked at her, bathed from head to foot in a bright ray of sunshine as she moved forward into the room. Dalton blinked, for it was almost as though the light glowed from within her, as she moved closer and took his arm gently. She tugged, and the medical bag fell onto the bunk safely.

Dalton sat down with his head in his hands and sighed. Then he raised his head to rebuke her. "You shouldn't have interfered! You don't even know why I was throwing it away." "I only know it looks valuable, and that if it sank to the bottom of the sea, you might have cause to regret your impetuous behaviour some time in the future," Emer said quietly, as she closed the porthole. Then she moved to lay the towels on the shelf in the watercloset. "I'm sorry if you're angry with me again, Mr. Randolph. It seems I do nothing but irritate you. I shall change jobs with Cathan, and he can wait on you from now on." She turned to go. "No, no, don't do that, Emer. I'm sorry, truly. I've been unhappy about going back to Canada, and have taken it out on everyone here, especially you," Dalton admitted. "And I don't mean to argue with you all the time. To tell you the truth, I feel at a loss as to how to deal with you. You seem far older and wiser than your years, and I just feel so ignorant, like a callow youth." "Well, I am a teacher. Perhaps it's not too late for you to learn, if you're willing?" Emer asked, as she dared to turn and look into his eyes. "Maybe it's about time you turned to face and struggle with whatever it is that's making you so discontent, instead of running away from it?" "What makes you say I'm running away?" Dalton hissed angrily. "Now, sir, you're baring your teeth like a wounded animal at me again," Emer chided softly. "I said you were running away because you've travelled all over Europe, judging from the dozens of labels all over your luggage, and from the look of it, you've been drinking, smoking and eating far too much. "You have a brown complexion from having been out in the sun for many years, but underneath there is a sallowness which suggests too much indulgence and not enough sleep. "I've seen Lord Devlin back home carry on like you have for the past few years ever since his wife died. He will no doubt continue in his decline because his friends are just as feckless and idle as he. If you don't have any friends who care for you enough to tell you the truth, then I really am sorry for you.

"And I would have to guess you're very lonely. You're here all alone on this ship, with no companion, male or female, not even a valet. So I am offering you a bargain, Dalton," she said, risking using his first name again as she stroked his shoulder reassuringly. "If you can try not to snap my head off every time I speak, I should like to try to be your friend." Dalton laughed loudly at her words. Emer grabbed for the door handle abruptly. "I'm sorry I ever said anything. Now I've offended you again. Of course a cabin boy couldn't possibly be a friend to a man of your wealth and position. Forget I ever spoke." Dalton rushed to the door and barred Emer's way. "I laughed just now, not because the idea was silly, but because I had just been laying here thinking how much I missed the only friend I ever had, a great man, Ralph Sommersby. He was the finest doctor I've ever known. Now you offer me friendship, almost as though you could read my mind." "This friend, perhaps he could help, or your parents and family?" Emer suggested quietly. "I haven't seen Ralph in years. As for my mother, she died when I was born, and my father resents me for taking her from him. I have no brothers or sisters the way you've been so blessed. He's my only family," Dalton sighed. "Then you shouldn't be too proud to contact this friend of yours, Ralph, I believe you said his name was. Maybe he would be able to help you out of your despondency, sir," Emer said, looking at the floor to avoid the golden stare. "No, he's back in London. But you're here, Emer, and though I must admit I've never been friends with a woman before, I'm willing to try, on two conditions." "And what might they be?" "That you tell me the truth, even if you don't think it is what I want to hear, and you be patient with me if I lose my temper with you sometimes, and don't take it personally." "I promise, but those conditions must apply to you as well," Emer said with a small smile. "Let's shake on our bargain, then. Friends?"

"Friends," Emer confirmed, taking pity on the man who was rich in money but bankrupt in love. They shook hands, and once again, Dalton marvelled at how tiny and delicate she was. "I was just about to go down to the hold to see my parents and bring some leftover food to my brother's wife and children. I've had a difference of opinion with my brother, and need to patch up the quarrel somehow," she explained as she opened the door. "Would you like to come with me, or do you think you should sit down and start a letter to Ralph?" "I'll come with you, Friend. I should like to meet the parents who raised such an extraordinary daughter." Dalton pulled on his waistcoat, which he left unbuttoned, and followed her. She walked ahead of him on deck, and to her surprise, Cormac waved her over to him. Emer went hurriedly, considering his willingness to speak to her a good sign. "The girls and Ailis are seasick as well now. Can you go see them?" Cormac asked quickly. "So you're speaking to me again now that you need me!" she said with a glare. "I know, I know, I'm sorry, but..." She sighed, and softened her sharp features into a smile. "Never mind. See this food here? Lamb and potatoes and fresh bread. I was just on my way to see them all anyway," Emer said as she opened the cloth for him to see. "Thank you, Sis, you're an angel, and I've been a brute," Cormac admitted. He hugged her tightly and kissed her brow. Suddenly Fred passed by, and couldn't resist muttering the fatal word, "Prostitute!" loudly enough for all to hear. Cormac scowled and looked as black as a thundercloud, but not nearly as livid as Dalton, who ran up to the boy and seized him by the collar. "How dare you speak to her like that! I'll have you flogged for insolence, do you hear!" he bellowed, turning purple with rage as

he shook the boy like a ragdoll. "No, Dalton, you don't understand, 'tis a joke!" Emer pleaded, grabbing hold of his other arm before he could bring his fist up. "Fred wasn't being rude to me, he was taunting my brother. This is my brother Cormac, Ailis's husband, whom I was on my way to see. Please, Dalton let him go. It was all an innocent bit of fun that got out of hand!" Dalton let Fred go with a final shake. "You mind your language from now on, boy, or I shall speak to the captain about you," he growled. He was astonished at the extent of his anger over the whole affair. As Cormac tried to laugh off the incident and make polite small talk about the weather, Dalton acknowledged to himself that he couldn't bear to see any man touch Emer, harm her, or even come within ten feet of her, let alone insult her in such a way. He was relieved that this blond Adonis who had kissed her was her brother, and then recalled the other handsome, well-built man who had claimed Emer as his betrothed. He tried to tell himself it was only natural gallantry, trying to protect the young woman, but all the while he could feel his attraction for her growing in the most inexplicable way. "No harm done," Cormac said regarding the matter. "I have work to do, so I'll talk to you later. Please go see Ailis now, and then you can explain that little scene to Mr. Randolph." Cormac smirked as Emer's aqua eyes widened in alarm, and he took his leave. "Well, are you going to tell me or not?" Dalton demanded as they walked along the rolling deck silently. Emer stalled for time. "I, um, well..." "Remember your promise, Emer, the truth, even if you think I'll be upset," Dalton reminded her forcefully. Emer shrugged, and told him, "It's just that we were talking one day up in the rigging, and I mentioned how many prostitutes I had seen combing the docks of Dublin. Cormac was upset that I should even use the word, and I'm afraid he got even more angry when I defended them." "What did you say?" Dalton asked, trying to conceal his astonishment.

"That our family were the lucky ones, with food and money and a place to go, while the prostitutes were only trying to feed their families the same as the rest of us. I pointed out that none of could say what we might be forced to do to preserve life, or protect those we love," Emer repeated firmly. "We can't presume to judge them. No one can ever know what they might do if they were desperate enough." "You certainly are the darndest women, Emer Nugent," Dalton remarked cryptically. The admiration for her shone in his unusual golden eyes, but Emer though it was just another point upon which they would bitterly disagree. "Well, if men didn't pay for it, women wouldn't be forced into selling themselves. It's just the wealthy exploiting the poor all over again," Emer sniffed, and led the way down to the hold. "Just come down here and look at these people, and tell me that once they get to Quebec all their problems will be solved, and they will live happily ever after. I simply don't believe it. How many of these women and young girls might be forced into a life on the streets in America or Canada? "And the way some of them will be treated in the big houses where they work as maids might be just as degrading for them as being whores, morally even if not physically! "Just remember, if they're forced to selling themselves, they have people like you to blame for that," Emer said with a sweep of her hand as they descended the last rung of the ladder. He followed her down into the dark, dank hold. Dalton's stomach heaved as an overpowering stench of sickness and unwashed bodies assailed his nostrils. Dalton clutched Emer's shoulder convulsively as he looked around the murky hold full of spectres. He was sure he was having a nightmare, and prayed desperately that he could wake up.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN Dalton watched the mass of poor skeletal figures crammed down in the hold with a mixture of disgust and pity. The appalling stench of unwashed bodies and illness was enough to make him gag. He held his handkerchief to his nose as he followed Emer to the small enclosure at the forepeak of the ship where her family had taken refuge from the teeming mass of humanity. "You've met my sisters, Brona, Cara, Roisin and Maeve. These are my sisters-in-law, the boys' sisters, Ailis, and Nuala. And my mother and father, Mr. Liam and Mrs. Breda Nugent. This is Mr. Dalton Randolph, our one passenger up at the top of the ship." "Emer! Emer!" a small chorus of delighted voices piped up. Dalton could distinguish two boys and two girls in the dim light of the fetid hold as they threw themselves enthusiastically onto Emer, and she hugged and kissed each one of them in turn. "And what are their names?" Dalton asked politely, trying to control his voice. He felt a lump in his throat as he looked at the obvious affection between the family members, and especially for Emer. "This is Ailbhe, the eldest at five, and Oisin and Blinne are both four. Daig is three, but you're the cleverest of the whole lot, aren't you, my boy? You can do sums better than any of them!" Emer smiled as she bounced the four children on her lap as she sat on the edge of the one of the lowest bunks. "And how are you, girls?" Emer asked, looking up at her sisters who lay above. Maeve and Roisin groaned simultaneously. "Still seasick," Mave replied between gritted teeth. "You can see the conditions down here, sir, are not exactly what we are accustomed to," Emer's father began to apologise, as he picked up a bucket of sea-water and began to wash down the floor.

"We've managed to cram all our supplies into the spare bunks, but it seems unfair to take up so much room when the rest of the ship is so full," Emer's mother sighed. Nuala and Ailis' father came up then and remarked, "Yes, I know, Mrs. Nugent, but just look at all of them. Some of them are very ill for certain, and the last thing we want is to be exposed to disease." Liam sighed and shook his head. "We've already been exposed to it. Look at the floor. It's running with filth again. There's no point in trying to store anything down under the plank beds. It will only get ruined and cause worse dirt to gather. Everything is going to have to go up onto the top shelves. Start telling everyone that they have to take everything up off the deck so we can scrub the place down. If they can't do it themselves, then you and Mrs. Lynch can help them." "Girls," he said turning to his daughters, "The same applies to our things. They have to come up, so start packing the shelves now." "I can take more things up above to mine and Cathan's quarters if that will help any," Emer offered. Her mother nodded. "Take all the spare clothing and blankets, for they'll be ruined otherwise. And as much of the food as you can, since there's been a great deal of thieving about the place already." "Mother, you can't blame some of the poor souls. They're desperate. Just look at them. That's what I've been trying to tell Mr. Randolph here. The potato famine wiped out our whole way of life overnight. No potatoes, no food, no home, nothing to survive on except sheer willpower. We have so much. Don't begrudge them a few scraps," Emer chided gently, kissing her mother on her wrinkled cheek. "Now, let me take those things up, and I'll come back for Mr. Randolph in a few minutes. Da, could you be kind enough to show him around?" Emer asked, kissing her father as well. "Don't worry child, we won't let anything happen to your fine gentleman," Liam replied, as he returned the kiss. Then he led Dalton towards the back of the hold, chatting as quietly as they went. Emer gathered up as many parcels as she could, and Brona and Cara did likewise.

Ailis and Nuala simply lay back down in their bunks apathetically, while the children sat in the low bunk where Emer had left them, and played cat's cradle with a grubby bit of string. "How many are on board?" Dalton asked Liam. "Only two hundred and fifty, but you can see how crowded it is. At the back they're lying three to a bunk on their sides, or head to foot. It is impossible, as is the sanitation. Many of the ones from the west of Ireland are too weak to go on deck to use the privies there. In any case many of them have been too seasick to manage to get out of their bunks. If we just left it, we would be wading up to our knees in filth by now, and we've not even been at sea twenty-four hours. I dread to think what it will be like when we get into the open ocean, or when a storm blows up." "And you, why are you helping, Mr. Nugent?" Dalton asked as he gazed down at the deck trying to avoid the large piles of filth and puddles as they walked. "The captain was so short of crew, he hired myself and my wife, and the Lynches to look after things for a small wage. We have some help from Mrs. Molloy, Michael's mother. I believe you met Michael the other night at the dance. He's taken a shine to my next eldest girl Brona. "A few others from Kilbracken are willing to lend a hand down here, but it's foul work. Some of these poor devils can't even cook for themselves. I shall have to get Emer to do something about the provisions. Maybe she can give the weaker ones ship's biscuit only until they are strong enough to cook their oatmeal, but I fear they're done for anyway." Dalton stared at the dignified older man, his face careworn with worry for the passengers. "What makes you say that?" "Do you see the puffiness of the body?" He pointed to one unfortunate woman in a lower bunk. "We call that famine dropsy, you know, a terrible swelling of the body from lack of food. I fear they'll die in spite of anything we try to give them. But perhaps it is for the best," Liam sighed. "Look at those children." He pointed further up the deck. "They've been without food for so long, they will be permanently stunted even if they do somehow manage to survive." Dalton looked around in the near-dark and could make out grossly swollen torsos with tiny stick-like limbs attached, and shuddered. Children with huge eyes stared up at him unseeingly, and many just lay limply in their bunks waiting for death to take them.

"I had no idea it was like this," Dalton said raggedly. "We had heard something about the famine in the papers, but this is incredible. And you, Mr. Nugent, why are you and your family here?" "Because the government in England made the taxes per person on the estate where we lived so high that the landlord couldn't afford to keep us on the land any longer. We were quite prosperous in spite of the potato blight, but we were still forced to leave. "As Emer says, we're the lucky ones, with skills and education. These poor devils know only the land, and the potato. They have no money, for they've never worked for wages." Dalton's brows knit, and he paused to stand under the ladder to at least get a whiff of fresh air. "I don't understand. Surely people are paid a salary?" Liam Nugent shook his head. "They were all renting cottages and plots of land. They would sell their crop to pay the rent, and whatever was leftover, they got to eat themselves. "I see." "So once the potato went, it was then end for all of them. No food, no home, and now they've been forced to leave their homeland, their families in some cases, to board a ship which will in all likelihood kill them. "There's no food here either beyond the oats they get, and they're not as nourishing as the potato. So despite the fact that for some this is the best meal they've had in ages, or could expect compared to what they faced back home, many will probably die before they ever even see Canada. And if starvation doesn't kill them, disease probably will," Liam assessed grimly. "How is possible that things have been allowed to come to such a pass in Ireland?" Dalton asked as he walked on to the rear of the ship and saw the buckets of human waste overflowing out onto the deck from under the wooden partitions. The older man shook his head and made a tisking sound. "You'd never think I just emptied those a half an hour ago." Emer's father pointed, and turned back to summon help to clean them again. Dalton stopped his promenade of the deck and apologised sincerely. "I'm sorry, I can see you are very busy. I'll go now, but I would be pleased to talk to you again sometime about all this."

"Ask Emer. She's the teacher in the family, and has got more brains than you can shake a stick at," Liam boasted proudly. Liam said his goodbyes at the foot of the companionway as he hailed the Lynches and his wife, and told them to bring the cleaning things to the stern of the ship. Emer and her sisters were just making another trip above with their provisions, as he reached the stairs. Dalton eagerly followed them up onto the deck to free himself from the dark, depressing hell that threatened to swallow him whole.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN The stench of the hold lingered in Dalton's nostrils long after he had come back up on deck, and he gazed gloomily at the Irish coast as it passed by, relieved to see that the ship was finally making some progress, but knowing full well they were a long way from Canada. Dalton shuddered with dread at the prospect of returning to Quebec, for he knew once out on the open sea, conditions would grow far worse for the poor wretches below. Even looking at Emer's own family, well-off though they were compared to many, he could see that they were ill with seasickness, and very weary from years of hard work on Lord Devlin's estate. The girls certainly did not have the robust bloom of youth that the debutantes in Quebec possessed. And what of Cormac's wife, Ailis, who looked as though she were about to give birth any day now. How would she fare on the journey? Childbirth was difficult enough for women, without having to be subject to crowded conditions, seasickness, disease, and food of the poorest quality, like the ship's biscuit, often infested with weevils. "A penny for your thoughts?" Emer asked quietly as she came up beside Dalton to lean next to him on the rail. "Not worth it, I'm afraid. I'm just so confused, Emer. Nothing I read in the newspapers in Canada and England ever prepared me for the extent of the suffering I see. Why has this happened?". Emer reached out to pat his arm soothingly, and replied, "It's a bit complicated to explain, but I'll try to make it simple for you. To understand the Famine you have to go back a few hundred years to when the Americas were being colonised. They brought back the potato to feed people more cheaply. It thrived, and easy to tend, spending most of the year under ground. "As the land use began to change in Ireland, people became more and more dependent upon the potato. The Irish used to be predominantly a herding culture, cows and sheep, and ninety percent of Ireland was covered by trees. The trees went for ship-building for the English, and the animals were used for provisioning those ships for the New World. "Ireland has been nothing more than a British colony for centuries, subject to landgrabs by greedy adventurers, and the Irish people's own internecine struggles for power. Cattle could be raided and

run off by enemies. The potato could not. Grain could be burned in a field, but the potato was relatively safe under the earth. So you can see why the potato grew more and more popular as the main source of sustenance for the now almost eight million people here in Ireland." Dalton nodded. "When you put it that way, it makes sense." "With more trade to the new colonies opening up all around the globe, for example in Africa and the Far East, Ireland grew more prosperous, and the population began to grow. Access to land became more important as well, because rather than rearing cattle, the landholders started growing a great deal more grain in response to demand, and the higher the corn prices, the more land was used to grow grain. "So if things were more peaceful and they were growing wheat more successfully, why didn't the Irish eat more grain products? Why the potato?" Dalton inquired. "Potatoes were cheap, and also very valuable in grain production because they broke up the land for sowing, added nutrients to the soil, and also fed the people working on the land. "The French Revolution and Napoleonic wars forty years ago boosted grain prices and profits even higher, and so even more land was taken over for wheat, barley, rye and oats. Cultivating the land was more intensive, so the landlords needed more people to work the land. "In exchange for the peasants' labour, they were given access to small plots of land. Since the agricultural labourers could grow many potatoes on a small patch, the potato, with some milk, and perhaps oats, became the chief diet of the Irish peasant farmer. "There were of course pigs and poultry and cattle on the land as well, but for most people it was simply the potato, and the one which gave the largest yield was called the lumper," Emer outlined for Dalton as he listened intently. "So people worked, and really only got a piece of earth as payment? They still had to grow their own food also to survive?" Dalton asked incredulously. "That's right. Since in former times they had been given long leases, they always had a home for generations, which gave them a great deal of security and a close bond with their rented land. But after the Napoleonic wars ended in 1815, landlords wanted to see more financial returns from their property. They began to

insist upon money rents or rent paid in kind, a pig, cow or such like. "Sometimes the landlords would sublet their land, and others in turn would sublet that same plot to perhaps several different families. So, depending upon how greedy people were, the rents kept increasing. "In addition, the tenancies became yearly,instead of for life, so it made it far easier for the land labourers to be evicted if the landlord disliked them, or if they could find someone else willing to pay a higher rent. That competition, of course, drove the rents even higher." Dalton shook his head. "How could they pay rent if they had no money?" Emer nodded approvingly, pleased he seemed to be really listening to her at last. "A very good point. They had to sell their pig or cow and so on, or sell their crops, in order to get the money to pay. So of course that meant growing more potatoes and other foodstuffs not just for the family, but also to sell, or raising a pig or some chickens and hoping to get the best price they could for them in order to be able to pay their rent. "If the animal died, it often left the family homeless. And when the potato failed, if they ate the animal themselves, or tried to spend the money they got for it on food in order to avoid starving to death, they lost their land and their homes." "I can't imagine so many people living on the brink of starvation like that," he said with a shake of his head, before shifting his weight slightly against the railing to lean against it more comfortably, rapt in all she was teaching him. "You don't have to imagine it, Dalton, for you've just seen the results down in the hold. There was a partial Famine in Ireland in 1841. The country only just began to recover from that blight, when this famine occurred, only in this case it was a complete failure of the crop." "But surely there must be other ways for the agricultural labourers to make money. Look at the linen trade," Dalton pointed out, ruffling his hair in agitation at the hopeless situation Emer was describing. Emer moved away from the rail, and walked along the deck, heading back for the galley with Dalton by her side.

"That's true, the linen trade was once great, but it too is responsible for the widespread scope of the problem. The linen trade is still primarily a rural one, since the workers have to live near flax holes, supplies of water and so on. The linen workers would divide their time between linen weaving and growing their own food on small plots of land. The landlords who owned land viable for linen work could get high rents for their land, and so would subdivide their plots as much possible to get maximum rents. "Since young men could move out of the family home and into their own houses under this system, it meant earlier marriages, and so more children. The population increased rapidly, resulting in even more people dependent upon the potato, and working for no wages, only land. Even the worst land agriculturally could be used for flax cultivation and growing pratai, so of course the population increased even further. "But then the weavers were put out of business about twenty years ago by new machinery. All those weavers had to fall back on were the small bits of land they had, and the soil was fairly poor at best." Dalton interrupted to ask, "What about wool, cotton?" "The same problems. Better machines, less labour needed, so there was no point in carrying on with their looms. Yet the amount of exports increased out of Ireland all the time, grain, meat, food stuffs, thus pulling the society into two separate groups, the wealthy, and the impoverished subsistence farmers. "The gap was even bigger between East Ireland and West, North and South. In the south and west there are no oats to speak of, so the potato, and some fish if they lived on the coast, were all the poor people had. With no way of paying their rents, they were some of the hardest hit, as you can see from the shape of those poor devils down in the hold at the back by the overflowing privies," Emer sighed. "But I can't understand the incredible extent of the suffering. Why didn't the landlords do something about this?" Dalton wondered as he followed Emer down into the galley, where she started preparing the supper for the senior officers. She began to count the potatoes out of the bins, and then scrub them clean. "They might have if they had seen it with their own eyes, but a lot of them didn't. There's a great deal of absentee landlordism in Ireland. For years my country has been treated like an overseas colony, much like America before their revolution, or

Canada and India. Some of the landlords have never even set foot on their estates, and corrupt overseers can thus do as they like. "And if the poor dared agitate for better conditions, they were seen as troublemakers and thrown off their land. So when the Famine came, and we asked the English for help, it was received as just another passing phase of overall Irish discontent. "As I said, my family are lucky, for the Penal laws were repealed in 1829. But my father and brothers can remember what it was like to be discriminated against just for being Catholic." He stared at her in surprise. "What sort of things were proscribed by these Penal laws?" "We were not allowed to serve in the army or navy, the law, trade and commerce, or public office. Since those were the best paying jobs, you can see how the poor Catholics became completely tied to the land. "But in addition, no Catholic could vote, or purchase land. Any large Catholic estates were dismantled by a law which said that if a Catholic landowner died, his estate had to be divided between all of his sons. But if one of the sons turned Protestant, he got the whole lot. Thus his brothers were often utterly dispossessed, and the whole family cast out and left destitute." "That's appalling." She nodded. "Aye, but it was seen as their only chance for a good life. Being Protestant conveyed privileged you take for granted, and literally can't imagine living without. Education was forbidden for the most part, for Catholics could not attend or run schools, nor could their children be sent to be educated abroad." "That's unbelieveable. It's a wonder more Irish didn't emigrate long before now to try to gain their freedom," Dalton said, shocked at the extent of the suffering imposed upon the Irish at the hands of the English government. "Many have, but it costs money, and as you now know, there wasn't really any chance of agricultural labourers saving up their cash for the trip, since they had none. But many did leave. Unfortunately, they were usually the better off, and took their wealth out of the country with them. "As a result of the Penal laws, enacted in 1695, the upper classes were forced to leave the country, convert, or dismantle their estates. The middle classes survived by ensuring they got greater and greater profits from trade at the expense of others, even their

own families." She finished counting out the potatoes and cleaning the potatoes, and moved on to portioning and washing the vegetables. "And the other lasting legacy was that the people became mistrustful of the laws, for it did everything to punish them, and nothing to protect them. That's why Daniel O'Connell was so extraordinary. He was one of the first men in Ireland who was willing to use his status and power on behalf of the downtrodden. He tried to use English laws to actually help the very people who had been oppressed by them for so long," Emer said enthusiastically. Dalton shook his head. "Let's leave the topic of O'Connell for the minute. You've given me a great deal to think about already." Emer smiled. "And once I finish washing these last few carrots here, I have to go down to the other galley now to start their supper, or I'll get the rope's end. But I've got a couple of old copies of The Freeman's Journal we brought with us to pass the time if you're interested. And I'm sure I saw some old magazines and papers up in the captain's cabin." "I'll go look for them now. Thank you, Emer. Your father certainly told the truth, my dear. You are a wonderful teacher." Dalton smiled, and patted her on the shoulder. "It depends on the eagerness of the pupil." Emer waved, and descended to the galley below. Dalton returned to his cabin, and began writing down all Emer had told him while it was still fresh in his mind. There was just something about the passionate young woman that filled his mind and senses utterly. He longed to get closer to her, to understand her better. All he had seen and heard, well, it was as remarkable to him as the evident love their family all bore each other. Dalton was learning a great deal about the Famine, it was true, but he had the feeling Emer was teaching him a great deal more, about life, and love. And as he gradually fell more and more under what he could only describe as her spell, he became increasingly eager to be her most apt pupil. CHAPTER FIFTEEN Dalton worked on with his studies until Emer called him in for supper, a succulent loin of roast pork, with potatoes, carrots and parsnips, and a meringue with fruit for the sweet.

During the meal, Dalton asked the captain and mates all he could about the Famine, and then returned to his cabin, where he again began to scribble down notes. Emer found him still at work when she had to go into his room to return more of his mended clothes. "My, you must have a great deal of letter writing to catch up on," she commented as she saw the huge pile of papers on the bunk. Not even pausing to look up from his writing, Dalton said, "I have the old issues of the papers from Sunday with me. I'm writing some letters in response to certain thing which I find particularly objectionable, especially in view of all you've told me about the situation in Ireland." "But Mr. Randolph, it will be weeks before you can post them, and even then it will take weeks before the letters can return across the Atlantic. I fear you might be wasting your time," Emer cautioned. "I don't think so. In view of all you've told me, I just feel I have to do something to try to help. I doubt the Famine is just going to disappear overnight, and the more I read, the more I agree with your assessment that I overheard the other day, that things are going to get far worse even if there is a good crop this October. "So little is being done to help the poor souls now, and as their last little wealth and reserves of strength dwindle, more and more people will have to go to the workhouses and soup kitchens, which simply won't be able to cope. Or they might just die on the roads by the score. "So I'm sending banker's drafts to support the Quakers and other charitable efforts I've found the addresses for, and only hope I can do something to alleviate their dire suffering." Emer looked down at his dishevelled black locks, and unthinkingly lifted a hand to smooth them down. "You're not such a selfish man after all, then, are you?" she stated softly as she stroked his silken hair. He took her hand and squeezed it. "Selfish, yes, ignorant, yes, but I'd like to think I can change, if you'll help me." "You have to do that all by yourself, Dalton, but only if you want

to. If you care about someone, you have to accept them as they truly are, not try to remake them into what you would wish them to be." Emer allowed her fingers to rest in his strong grasp for a moment before moving away from the table slightly. "I like the way you say my first name with that lovely musical accent of yours," he teased, his gold eyes shining up into her aqua ones. Emer blushed. "I'm sorry, sir, I didn't mean to presume." "You've called me Dalton before, you know." "I hadn't realised. I'm sorry for being so forward." Emer hung her head as she moved to put away some of his things in the dresser. "No, no, not at all, I welcome you treating me less formally. 'Sir' makes me sound old enough to be your father." Emer grinned cheekily. "You are nearly, aren't you?" "Thirty five to your twenty. Yes, I suppose I am," Dalton sighed, and pushed the papers from him moodily. "But that doesn't mean we can't be friends, does it? So I insist on you calling me Dalton, at least when we're alone together." "Yes, sir." Emer winked, and closed the door behind her. It was only after she was gone that Dalton recalled her words about caring for someone, and he sighed deeply. In only two short days, he had come to care for this girl and her family so deeply, it was alarming. Instinct told him that for Emer's sake, especially in view of the great age difference between them, not to mention other dissimilarities of class, breeding and so on, he should not permit himself to get too close to her. The last thing he wanted was gossip, and her ending up with a ruined reputation. He resolved to talk with her only in public places, such as on deck, and not be alone with her in his stateroom too often. Dalton rose from the chair and stretched, and moved all of his papers and ink and pens to the gallery. He piled up the books and newspapers he wanted to consult next.

Then he pulled on his jacket, and took a walk around the deck to clear his head before resuming his studies. Emer longed to continue her simulating talk with Dalton, but she was kept busy sanding and swabbing the decks, and could only gaze longingly at his figure as he perambulated around the Pegasus. As the sun set into the glimmering blue sea, Emer made her way to the forepeak to see how the fishermen were getting on. After asking permission from Mrs. Jenkins, they smoked and cured the fish in the bottom galley, and stored it in a large barrel. Emer wrinkled her nose disgustedly as she caught a whiff of herself in her fishy clothes. Just then Fred came by and remarked, "Good Lord, girlie, have you been smoking them, or swimming with them?" "I'd better get another set of clothes from one of my brothers," Emer remarked ruefully. "No, there's no need. There are plenty of clothes in the slop chest." "Slop chest?" "It's where we keep spare clothes, especially for sailors who haven't many. You get loads of shreds and tears, and don't ways have time to fix them, or get things dried when the storms blow up and we have to put out all the fires. It's over here, in this corner of the crew's mess. Just take what you need, and scrub those things out and give them back to Martin and Cathan." "Thanks, Fred." Emer managed to find a pair of short trousers which didn't need to be tied around her waist with a length of rope, and a shirt with sleeves just about the right length for her. There was a fawn-coloured waistcoat as well. Emer checked the state of the rest of the clothes, and saw that many of them were in bad need of repair. She returned to the galley and sat down by the fire to sew, until old John the lamp trimmer came in to start his rounds. She brought the lanterns to the front of the ship, and took the opportunity to go below to say good night to her family. Emer saw that their seasickness had diminished somewhat, and though

the smell in the hold was not very pleasant, her parents and the Lynches had done their best to get the sanitary situation under control. "Are you eating well enough?" Emer asked, as she brought the remains of the captain's and crew's meals down for them. "It's hard to get the chance. The cooking fires are so crowded above," her mother said. "But I don't like you giving Nuala and the girls your share of food, Emer." "Aye. You're working very hard, and need to keep your strength up," Liam scolded. "I'm all right. I eat well in the mess. We're given two pounds of meat a day, plus all the ship's biscuit we like. I can even have all the coffee I want, and also get my tots of lime juice and rum, which I'm trading with Charlie and Fred for some of their lime juice. I think we should give it to the children and Ailis, so they don't get scurvy." "All right, but so long as you're having some yourself," Emer's mother agreed. "But I feel so sorry for all the others. We have provisions, while some of them haven't got a thing. Emer told them about the barrel of smoked fish she had put up. "We still have a barrel of fresh, and the men have promised we shall fill all the barrels tomorrow, and smoke them again. We'll hand out the fresh fish with the rations in the morning. "But once we get out into the open sea, we might not be able to keep fishing. Fred also told me that they put out the fires when the weather gets rough, so we had better smoke as much of the mackerel and so on as we can while we have the chance. "Plus the mistress says we have to watch our fuel consumption on the stoves and fires, or else we will really be in trouble if we start to run out," Emer informed her family. "I know you'll do the best you can, Emer," her father said as he kissed her good night. Then she moved to tuck the children into bed, and gave each of them a kiss. Emer checked Roisin and Maeve next. They complained of sickness and also feminine complaints. In order to make everyone a bit more comfortable in the forepeak of the ship, Emer brought the bucket at the front of their makeshift

home up to the railing and threw the contents overboard. Then she lowered it on a rope to wash it out, and returned below. "There, I've got the mess out of the way. Try to get some sleep, and I'll see you all tomorrow," Emer said as she restored the bucket to its corner, and kissed her sisters good night. Emer went up to the galley, where she scrubbed her hands thoroughly, and made a start on her sewing. Emer heard the strains of a reel being struck up as she finished off sewing one of the garments in her pile. She went out to the mess to put the repaired garments away, and looked at the assembled crowd, fewer in number than the night before, and nowhere near as jolly. Her hopes of seeing Dalton were dashed, however, for though she waited for quite some time, he did not emerge from his cabin. Shrugging, and refusing her dozenth offer to dance, Emer made her way to her quarters in the gallery, where she found Dalton still absorbed in his studies. She hung her own lantern over Dalton's head to improve his light so he wouldn't strain his eyes, but he hardly seemed to notice her until she murmured, "Good night, sir." "Oh, yes, er, thank you, and good night," Dalton said brusquely, resisting the temptation to ask her to sit and answer some of his questions. Dalton's sharp golden eyes noticed Emer looked exhausted, and in any case, he knew he had to maintain his resolve not to be alone with her. Emer sighed, and, loosening her clothes, lay down on her bunk. The scratching of Dalton's quill on the other side of her door eventually lulled her to sleep, but not for the first time she found herself wishing Dalton Randolph wouldn't always be so mercurial and off-hand with her. CHAPTER SIXTEEN The following morning brought a few surprises for the entire crew aboard the Pegasus. At last the wind had begun blowing strongly, speeding them along the northern coast. Just as Emer was finishing the breakfast dishes, Captain Jenkins called in to her, "This will be your last glimpse of Ireland. We're about to pass Malin Head."

Emer wiped her hands on a towel as she hurriedly ran to the rails to catch a last glimpse of her beloved homeland. There were many tears as the steerage passengers came up on deck to say farewell, most likely forever. She noticed some of them grew fretful and ill-tempered for the rest of the day as they attempted to come to terms with the fact that there was now no going back. Several fights broke out at the cooking fires that day, and Charlie and Fred were called upon to stay below and help keep the peace. Many hadn't even got anything to cook by midmorning, since Emer and the storemaster had been mustered on deck early to go up into the rigging to furl some of the sails, and they were now clamouring to be fed. As Emer returned to the galley, Jim Beckett came looking for her and said, "Right, ration time, before some of the blighters starve." Emer cringed at his words, and followed the storemaster down to the confined space. Just as she began hauling on one of the sacks roughly, she heard a terrible groan. She jumped in surprise, and the storemaster looked at her sharply. "Quit fooling about, and take it above!" "I, er, I can't, it's a bit too heavy," Emer said quickly. "This one's better." But another groan was emitted from the bag as she accidentally stepped on the corner of it. Before Emer could stop him, Jim opened the bag, and pulled out a rather scruffy looking young man of about her own age, who stared at him wide-eyed. "Good Lord, that's all we need, a stowaway! Or did you put him up to this, helped him on board!" Jim accused. "I've never seen this poor man before in my life," Emer defended herself. "But look at the state of him. He must have been desperate to smuggle himself aboard. He's in rags, and look, he doesn't understand a word of English." "Well, I have to turn him in to the captain. I blame you for this, Missy. You weren't going to tell me, were you?"

"I know he's done wrong, but surely there must be something we can do with him besides punish him," Emer pleaded. "He looks as though he'll blow away in the next strong breeze!" Jim Beckett spat in disgust, as he dragged the stowaway up the ladder by the scruff of his neck, and then paraded the young man and Emer before the captain on the poop deck. "We have a stowaway, Captain, and this girl here was trying to conceal him!" Beckett accused. "No, I wasn't! I was simply surprised, that's all. I stepped on him, and he groaned. I had no idea he was living down in the cargo hold!" "Damn and blast it. That's all we need, a stowaway. What's your name, boy?" Captain Jenkins growled. The emaciated young man stared at the forbidding face of the captain, and looked to Emer in panic. She asked him his name in Irish, and then demanded to know where he was from and how he had got aboard the Pegasus. Then Emer translated has words for the captain. "He says he's called Seosamh, Joseph in English, and he comes from the Aran Islands off the west coast of Ireland. His family are all dead from the fever, so he sold their fishing boat in Galway and walked all the way to Dublin.He bribed one of the night-watchmen at the port to let him aboard, and he's been hiding below ever since." "Aye, and stuffing himself with our stores, no doubt!" Beckett shouted. "We're still in sight of land, Captain Jenkins. I say we chuck him overboard right now." "No, you can't do that! He'll drown for sure!" Emer protested angrily. "If he fished on the islands, he'll be useful to you on the ship, Captain. He can work off the price of his passage. Or I'll pay five pounds pay if I have to rather than let him drown. I'll share my rations with him if there isn't enough to go around, though I'm sure his fishing skills will be an asset. Please, sir, if you thrown him into the sea, he'll perish for certain." The captain stood silently, thinking over Emer's proposal. At length he agreed. "All right, I'll hand him over to our Mate Mr. Bradley, and he'll see what he can do. But since he doesn't speak a word of English, he's your responsibility from now on. You'll see to it that he has minimum rations and performs his duties well,

since he has to pay the five pound passage by the sweat of his brow, for I'll not take your money or dock your wages because of this criminal. "Take him below, scrub him, and give him some clothes from the slop chest, then hand him over to the Mate. "As for the rest of the crew, I want them mustered. They're to clear all the passengers out of the holds right now, with no exceptions. Everyone is to come up here, and be counted. Then we're going to search this ship from top to bottom to make sure we have no other stragglers on board, is that clear? And then we're going to run a tight ship to Canada. No more fighting, arguing, or not rationing properly. Clear?" "Aye, Captain," she and Beckett both said smartly. Then she hurried to find Bradley, explaining to Joe all that had been said as she went. She had never seen a more relieved looking young man in her life. When she found Patrick Bradley, she repeated what the captain had said, and his command about inspecting the ship before they went out into the Atlantic with all possible speed. The first mate followed the captain's orders, and assembled the crew, who began to help the steerage passengers get up the ladders and line up on deck. Emer hurriedly went about her extra chores. She got a bucket of seawater, which she put on to boil for the stowaway while she went to find him some clothes, and then put him in one of the large tubs to soak. She turned her back, and when he said he was ready, she collected all his filthy clothes and hurled them overboard. Leaving the clean clothes behind, and a plate of food for him, she went below to join in the search. With the captain's permission, while the hold was empty, her parents and the Lynches and Emer and Cathan and the four Lynch boys broke off their search to scrub the hold from top to bottom while everyone was up on deck. They emptied the buckets, and scrubbed clean the bunks which people had dirtied also. They had been so weak, they had been unable to do anything other than lie in their own filth. It was dirty, disgusting work, but as Liam pointed out, it was the only way to try to make the prospect of a six-week crossing of the

often rough North Atlantic even remotely bearable. Emer threw out the worst rags she found, and even scrubbed under the bunks where the filth had rolled underneath and begun to accumulate. Finally, coming up on deck into the bright sunshine again, Emer looked at some of the filthiest of the sick people, and speaking to them in Irish, indicated for them to follow her. She took them into the galley, where Seosamh had just finished his ablutions and small meal, and indicated that they should try to clean themselves in the tub as well. Then she led Seosamh back to the Mate, and with a small wave he thanked her for her help, and followed the grim-looking man as meekly as a lamb. Emer went back to the slop chest and brought some clothes for the bathers. Though the women protested at having to wear men's clothes, Emer argued that they were better off in them than naked, and they would be able to get up and down the ladders more easily to take fresh air and exercise. In the end the women took them, and Emer threw their ragged, filthy petticoats and dresses over the side. Emer decided she would go through her own clothes later and give them some other things. There was no point now, since no one would worry about how respectable they looked down in the hold anyway. At any rate, voluminous skirts would only get in their way whenever they had to negotiate the steep ladders if they wished to move around the ship freely. Charlie came into the kitchen for a quick visit, and declared, "Good Lord, the captain will skin you alive if he catches you doing all this!" He pointed to the tub and then the pile of clothing from the slop chest. "But we always keep the stoves going for food and warmth, and have to boil water for the wash anyway. As long as the fires are hot, where is the harm? I'm not using any extra fuel, and they're all sharing the seawater." "All the same, Emer, if you help one, you have to help them all," Charlie cautioned. "Well, why not help them?" she fired back, tired of defending her compassionate actions to people who had never known a day's want in

their liveds. "They're too feeble to help themselves, and they have no other clothes. They can't just lay there in their own vomit and excrement!" "Just be careful, Emer. Don't go sailing to close to the wind, or the captain will flog you just like the rest of us," the young man warned with a shake of his head, before heading off to resume his duties. "I'll remember," Emer said grimly, as she encouraged the women to hurry, and then sent them back to join the others on deck. At last the search and the cleaning was finished, and the captain was satisfied that only Seosamh had stowed away on board. But now they had a head count. There were a total of 253 souls on board the Pegasus. She looked at the bony women and emaciated men, and wondered how many of them would ever live to see Canada. She offered up a quick prayer, and went about her chores, wondering what on earth Dalton was going to say when he found out she had been helping a stowaway. She only hoped the dour man wouldn't put it down as yet another black mark against Captain Jenkins for being too lenient and not following the Almighty Randall regulations. But rules were meant to be broken, if lives were to be saved. She had not been about to allow them to throw the poor man Joe overboard for the sake of a five pound fee. And she certainly wasn't prepared to treat people like animals just to keep her job as cabin boy. She was determined to help her fellow emigrants as much as she could, even if it meant sacrificing her growing friendship with the handsome but enigmatic Dalton Randolph. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN Emer had cause to be grateful for the fact that she had spoken up for him, for Seosamh, or Joe as she told the others to call him, proved an invaluable member of the crew. He worked all day without complaint, and gave the benefit of his expertise to all those who wanted to take a turn fishing. He became devoted to Emer as he followed her about, asking for translations of what people said, trying to learn English, and sitting by her side in the mess as they shared their meal together. He fetched and carried water for her, and helped with the wash,

and any other chores he saw her doing. "You don't have to help me, you know. You have your own work to do," Emer reproached him as he tagged along beside her everywhere day after day. "But I want to help. If you hadn't defended me to the captain, he would have thrown me overboard. I could see it in his eyes." "If you want to repay me, then just be a model sailor from now on. Who knows, maybe Captain Jenkins will keep you on, or give you a reference for another ship's job at the end of this voyage" "All the same, Emer, you've saved my life, and I owe you." Emer grinned. "In that case, do me a favour will you, and allow yourself to be called Joe. Seosamh is too much of a mouthful for these English speakers." "Joe it is, then," he agreed, and went back to work aloft. She was pleased he had turned out to be such an asset, and a fast friendship developed between them which she was sure would tend to romance if she ever permitted it. But no, she had to admit that her feelings for an entirely different man were growing as the journey progressed, so she tried to pair him off with Cara whenever she could, though her younger sister seemed to still have eyes only for Reamann Lynch. But no one on the ship could fail to notice the way that Joe's thoughts and feelings were tending. Dalton knew the burning pain of raging jealousy as he saw the two young people together constantly day and night. He knew that Emer had agreed to help the young man out of the kindness of her heart, just as she helped others. But the naked admiration he saw in the young man's eyes and the closeness they shared as crewmates disturbed him greatly. In spite of his resolve to avoid Emer so as to not compromise her position or reputation, Dalton found himself seeking her out on all sorts of pretexts. When he did, their topics of conversation ranged far and wide, from the Famine in Ireland, to the life and works of O'Connell, to poetry, art, music, and literature. Dalton was amazed at how well-educated and informed she was, and how similar their tastes.

If I had been looking for the perfect companion, I couldn't have found anyone more suited to me, Dalton reflected one night as she sat working on her endless pile of mending, and played a game of chess with him at the same time in his cabin. "Your names are all very unusual. Take me through your family, and tell me what they mean," Dalton asked curiously as he moved one of his pawns. "Let's see. Cormac is the eldest, so I'll start with him. Cormac is a popular saint's name, and means 'son of the charioteer.' They used to use chariots quite a lot in Ancient Ireland," Emer explained quickly when Dalton raised his brows inquiringly. "Martin is the same as in English, another saint's name, as are the names Blinne and Breda, from Saint Bridget," she continued. "Ailis is like Alice, and Nuala is a shortened form of Fionnuala, which means 'white shouldered.' Liam is short for William. Ailbhe means 'white,' and is a heroine from our mythology, who won the love of the great warrior Finn Mac Cool." "Finn Mac Cool?" Dalton asked with a smile. "It's too long a story to go into now. You were asking about our names, so don't distract me, or I'll forget someone. Let's see, now, Oisin is another one from mythology, and means 'deer,' because he is the son of Finn Mac Cool and his wife Sabhra, who was turned into a deer, and raised him as a fawn until he eventually got turned back into a human form." "That sounds like an interesting legend," Dalton said sincerely. "But Finn certainly sounds like busy man with the ladies!" "I'll tell you a bit more about him another time, if you're really interested. Daig is next, and his name means 'flame,' or 'fire'. Cara also means red. They were both flaming red-heads when they were born, though you wouldn't think so to look at them now, they are so fair. "Roisin is like Rose, another red-head who has mellowed into brown. Brona means 'sorrow'. My mother lost some babies in between us, hence she and I are four years apart in age. Poor Mam was trying to prepare herself for the worst. "Maeve is the name of a great queen of Connacht, the west of Ireland, who figures in the Irish legends, or history if you believe all the stories. Her name means 'intoxicating, she who

makes men drunk,' presumably with her beauty and charm," Emer laughed. Dalton grinned. "Well she's only young yet, but she looks as though she might live up to her name one of these days, if her eldest sister is anything to go by." Emer blushed up to the roots of her hair, and ignored his flattery as she continued her list. "Cathan means 'battler.' I suppose you'll say that's a good description of me as well," she mocked. "Then there's Reamann, like Raymond in English, Peadar, which is Peter, Tomas, the same as in English, and Ultan, which means "a man from Ulster', up in the north. He was born there, though the Lynches later moved back down south when Lord Devlin sold his other estate in Ulster. I think that's everyone in my family now." "No it isn't, for you have cleverly avoided telling me your name's meaning," Dalton accused, pointing a chess piece at her, which he had picked up to move. "All right, but it's a long story," Emer warned. "Again from the myths?" She nodded. "That's right, and you're not allowed to laugh. After all, I didn't choose my own name, my parents did." "I promise not to laugh," Dalton reassured her, trying to keep a straight face. "Tell me the whole saga." "Emer was the daughter of a great king called Forgall Manach, and was said to possess the six gifts of womanhood," Emer began. "What are they, according to the Irish?" Dalton inquired as he moved his queen across the board to take one of her pieces. "They are the gifts of beauty, voice, sweet speech, needlework, wisdom, and chastity," Emer said with a blush, as she moved one of her pawns, and then bit off the end of the thread and laid the garment she was sewing aside. "You have all of them except the third, though when you're nice to me like this I could almost forget your sharp tongue," Dalton teased with a gleam in his golden eyes. Emer picked up another sock to darn and threw it in his face. Dalton laughed and threw it back. "Go on, tell me the rest. What

happened to the legendary Emer?" "You promised not to laugh!" Emer complained in a wounded tone. "All right, I'm sorry. You have all six gifts, my dear, with more than your fair share of all of them, as you well know," Dalton praised. Emer, slightly mollified, continued, "The other great hero of Irish mythology, C Chulainn, which means 'the hound or guarddog of Ulster' fell in love with Emer at first sight, and asked for her hand in marriage. She replied that though she loved him, she couldn't marry until her eldest sister had wed. "In any case her father refused the match on the grounds that C Chulainn had yet to gain his reputation as a great warrior fit for a king's daughter. So C Chulainn went off to Scotland to train in the art of war, and earn his beloved's hand. "But her father Forgall, despite his promise, tried to marry Emer off to another great king from the south called Lugh Mac Ross." "Oh dear, did this Lugh get her against her wishes?" Dalton asked, as he moved another piece on the board. She shook her head. "No, because when Lugh found out she was in love with C Chulainn, knowing of his growing reputation as a powerful warrior, Lugh was too frightened, and declined Forgall's offer." "This C Chulainn must have been some man!" Emer nodded. "He was indeed, hence the nickname. But unfortunately for Forgall, he under-estimated him, and didn't wish to keep his word. When C Chulainn finally came back from Scotland a great warrior, worthy of Emer's love, her father refused to even let him in the gates. "C Chulainn was so angry he leapt right over the wall, and slaughtered twenty-four of the king's retainers. Forgall was so terrified of C Chulainn's anger that he jumped off the ramparts to his own death rather than face him in battle, or be taken captive. "Then C Chulainn and Emer lived happily ever after, and he also got two huge piles of gold and silver as well to placate his anger," Emer concluded. "That was a fascinating story, not unlike the legends of King Arthur and the knights of the Round Table, where the men have to do

brave deeds to win their women's love." Emer nodded her agreement. "Aye, very like them. I suppose many couples are in the same position, what with parental opposition, lack of money, or circumstances which prevent them from being together, obstacles that have to be overcome. And of course, even then, not every story like that has a happy ending." "What of you, Emer? Would your romantic knight have to do some brave feats of derring do to win your heart?" Dalton asked, his golden eyes boring into her own aqua ones intently. Emer laughed shakily. "I don't know. It's out of the realm of my experience. As I said before, people fall in love for a hundred different reasons. But perhaps they value each other more if they have to strive to attain their goal, to be worthy of the person they love. I'm not sure. I've always believed that if you love someone, you try to accept them for what they are. They have to do the same if they wish to lead happy and contented lives with one another." "That sounds like the voice of experience. Who are you thinking of?" Emer shrugged. "Well, my parents, for one. They're not only in love in the romantic sense, but also the best of friends. They can complete each other's sentences when they speak, know each other's thoughts and feelings, likes and dislikes, and yet always manage to surprise one another. I'd like to be in love like that. To share that kind of closeness and intimacy. "But it's so confusing. If you observe other couples, they act like they can't stand each other, fighting all the time, disappointing one another, and it's like, hmm, like it was just, well, the physical side of marriage that brought them together. Then when the attraction wears off, they become strangers, or worse, enemies even." "Of course, some men just marry to have children as well," Dalton commented, thinking of his own father. "It would be nice to think that the person you fall in love with could satisfy all your needs, but I believe a great number of couples are unfaithful to each other, or else there wouldn't be prostitutes," Emer sighed, and then blushed. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said..." "No, it's quite all right. I'm not as touchy about that subject as Cormac. I will admit to being a man of the world. I'm no virgin, Emer, but nor am I obsessed with women," Dalton confessed.

"Oh, I see," Emer said, and swallowed hard before speaking to steady her voice. "But there's been no one special, no, er, mistress or wife in all these years?" "No, neither, just some fairly nameless, faceless pleasure-taking on my part I have to admit being ashamed of afterwards," Dalton revealed candidly. Emer couldn't think of any reply to his statement, and in any case it seemed far too intimate a topic of conversation. The thought of Dalton in the arms of another woman filled her with an all-encompassing jealousy Emer had never experienced before. She looked down at her sewing again quickly. "That's why I admire you and your family so much, but you especially. You're so warm, friendly in a genuine way, not pretending or doing things for form's sake, if you see what I mean, looking after people because you have to." Emer snipped the thread and stood up abruptly. "Well, this has been a fascinating conversation, Mr. Randolph, but it's very late, and..." "I can see I've shocked or offended you," Dalton apologised as he blocked her way, and hoped to prevent her from leaving him. "No, not at all, I just have to get up early." Emer thus snatched at the first excuse she could, and with a quick good night, she scurried out of the door before Dalton could stop her, her face flaming, her whole body feelling flushed and tense. Dalton sighed, and poured himself a full glass of brandy, which he sipped moodily as he stared long into the night at the empty chair Emer had just vacated. As he sat, he tried to remember her face, her eyes, when he had revealed how lacking in genuine warmth and love his past life had been. For her part, Emer fled into her cabin to be alone with her whirling thoughts. As Emer gazed out at the stars in the sky, she realised she was making the biggest mistake of her life. She was starting to fall in love with Dalton Randolph. Though she tried to tell herself it was impossible, Emer knew her attraction for him grew with every passing day aboard the Pegasus. "I must stop it, I must," Emer whispered into the cold darkness.

She resolved that she would have to avoid Dalton more in future, or else she would be truly lost.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN The rest of their first week aboard the Pegasus passed relatively uneventfully, with Emer doing her chores during the day, and visiting her family down in the hold at night in an effort to avoid the alluring Dalton Randolph. But there was little wind, and in the scorching heat of the sun it was hard to cool off down on deck, let alone in the fetid hold. Her father and the others assigned to keep the hold clean worked ceaselessly. Even the forepeak, though in the open air, began to take on a dreadful smell from the fish and privies. All those who could get that far onto the deck were forced to attend to their sanitary needs there, but many of the passengers in steerage were too ill or apathetic to do more than stagger to the back of the hold, and some never even made it that far. Emer tried to get her sisters in law to rally themselves by giving

them a mountain of mending from the slops chest, while she did the finer work on Dalton's clothes and those of the captain and two mates. But generally Nuala and Ailis just sat or lay in the bunk, and continually complained about food and conditions, even though they were already making a significant dent in the provisions they had brought aboard for the whole family. Emer warned her father one day, "You're going to be reduced to eating the ship's oatmeal at the rate they're going. One flitch of bacon already gone, and we've only been at sea a week. I'm warning you, Da, if the voyage lasts longer than fifty days, there won't be any food at all aboard. So try to get them to use some discretion." "I will try to get them to cut down, but it's hard to cross Ailis when she's in that condition," Liam sighed, as he lifted the second bucket and accompanied his daughter up the companionway to throw the stinking messes over the side. Though Emer tried to avoid looking at the bucket, she couldn't help but notice the red clots on the top, and whispered frantically, "Good God, Father, some of these people have the bloody flux!" "I know, I know! Why do you think we keep changing the buckets?" he said in an agonised whisper. "I'm going to go tell the captain, and see if we can't do something to get more privies down here. Martin and the ship's carpenter should be able to rig something up. And you scrub your hands in soap and water now, but I'm going to go see if I can't get some gloves from somewhere. If this spreads all over the ship, none of us are going to get to Canada," Emer predicted grimly. Emer went to the captain's cabin, where he was diverting Dalton with a lesson in navigation, showing how he took the readings from the poop deck and plotted the course on the chart with a ruler and compass. "Permission to speak freely, Captain." His grey brows drew downwards. "As if you ever do anything else, Miss Nugent," the captain said, not unkindly. "It's come to my attention, sir, that certain of the passengers have the bloody flux. I would like to make a case for arranging more sanitary facilities for the passengers above and below, with as many buckets as you can spare.

"Also, that we make hot water available to the passengers below for washing their hands and so on, even if it is only sea water. If that or any other disease spreads through the ship, dozens could die." "The flux, is it? Hmm. Very well, I shall consult the carpenter on the matter, but I think the extra privies will also have to be on the forepeak," Captain Jenkins replied. "Sorry to contradict, sir, but the most seriously ill people will never be able to make it up the ladder. They can't now, in point of fact, which is why I'm afraid the problem will spread like wildfire." "All right, I have noted your request, and will do the best I can," the captain agreed impatiently. "Thank you, sir." Emer turned and left the captain's cabin, and noticed with a sinking heart that Dalton hadn't looked at her once in the entire time she had been in the room. Dalton let out his breath with a sigh as he allowed himself to look at Emer's retreating back. It was becoming more and more difficult for him to avoid her, for the simple reason that he often deliberately tried to seek her out in spite of his resolve to not allow himself to get too close to her, or permit himself the liberty of such an intimate conversation as their previous one with her again. But all the same, Dalton missed Emer's lilting conversation, her smile, her laughter, and the warmth and softness of her as they casually touched, their hands meeting on the ladder rail, her elbow brushing against his arm as they walked together side by side. Dalton tried to turn his attention back to the charts, but after a few minutes of vain effort attempting to concentrate on the captain's information, he excused himself by saying, "It's rather warm in here, so if you don't mind, I'll go up on the poop deck. And besides, you have far more to do than stand here talking to me. You need to speak to the ship's carpenter about that rather pressing matter." "Aye, that I do. Damn and blast, how I hate these emigrant runs. Treating them like animals, and not having the facilities for them, not even a doctor. I blame the company, that's who I blame. I want to help these poor wretches, but there is only so much I can do on a lumber ship," the captain sighed, and then looked out his porthole. "And look at that! The wind is dying again. Yet another tacking and adjustment of the sails. Tarnation, we eve been

becalmed twice now. We'll run out of food before we ever get to Canada at this rate, fish or no fish." Captain Jenkins called the muster for all hands on deck, and while they worked the sails, he consulted the ship's carpenter. As soon as the sailors came down from aloft, they all began constructing another eight waterclosets, two for below, and six for above. Then they turned the hoses on the ones on the forepeak already in use, and were told to stoke the fires in both galleys to boil water for them to wash in on deck. The crew took two of the laundry tubs and brought them forward, and hid them behind two makeshift wooden partitions. Emer went below and made the announcement in English and Irish, but was dismayed when she saw how many people wished to avail themselves of the facilities. "You can't all go! Da, tell them." "We will have to arrange it by rows in the ship then," Liam bellowed over the din. "I'll give you a button to show it is your turn, and you give it to my wife up above." Emer pulled her mother to one side, and remarked, "Some of these people are absolutely filthy. Our friends here from Kilbracken aren't so bad, but those others are covered in dirt. I'll bring some clothes from the slop chest, and if you could throw their old clothes over the side, we might at least get rid of some of the lice on board. They're hopping with parasites." "They'll be pretty angry, especially the women," Breda warned. "Just say it's captain's orders." Emer went up to the galley to supervise the laundry and the water for yet another group of bedraggled and dazed famine victims. She checked through all the slops for suitable clothes, which Cathan took to the forepeak, and then sat down to finish mending Dalton's second drawer of clothes. Only another four drawers to go, she thought wryly, admiring the soft cottons and linens, while at the same time resenting his plenty whilst so may were in rags below. If only.... But Emer pushed the thought from her mind. Even if Dalton were willing to share some of his fine clothes with the others, by the end of the voyage the hold passengers would be just as filthy as when they had started.

Emer stirred the stew she had made for the crew's dinner down below, and then went up to the captain's galley and looked in at the turkey roasting slowly. It was turning a rich golden brown colour, and Emer cut the potatoes up into wedges, and basted them in the turkey fat so they would roast crisp and golden. Then she cut up some carrots and turnips, and put them on to boil. She finished wringing out the wash, and hung it in front of the cast iron stove. The fact that much of the wash was her family's made her feel guilty. She went into her cabin and began pulling out piles of clothes from the shelves until she found her own. Apart from her best summer weight dress, a fine dark-blue cotton gown, and two skirts and two blouses, and some underclothes and petticoats, she bundled the rest of her clothes back up and brought them to the forepeak, where she handed them to her mother. "Here, if these fit anyone, they're welcome to them." "But Emer, all your summer clothes!" "It doesn't matter, Mam. Lord Devlin paid for them all anyway. What use have I for them now? If I do get another post as governess, they'll provide clothes in my stipend, so it makes no difference. I've kept one good dress, and some other things. But the captain will have my hide if I empty the slops chest, and the sailors have nothing to wear as a result." Her mother nodded, and kissed her. "Thank you, dear. And when you get the chance, sort out my things, and bring them here." "Mam, there's no need..." "There is. If you're willing to give up your things, so am I," Breda said firmly. Emer did as her mother had instructed. As it was Emer would have to explain about the slops chest to the captain. She took the opportunity of doing so after she had served the fine turkey dinner, when she hoped he would be at his most affable. Captain Jenkins knit his brows, and said, "I wondered what you were doing with that huge pile of sewing. Still, if you took the trouble to repair them, and these people really are in need, then I can't really be angry with you. But you can take no more, now, do you hear? If a storm blows up, I can't have the crew running around in soaking clothes. They'll catch a pleurisy.

"But I'll let you make hot water available to them every day, if they wish to wash their things, and hang them from the yard arm, but only up forward, is that clear?" "Aye, captain." Emer thanked him, and went below to tell her father the good news. She also brought him and the others several old pairs of gloves the bo'sun had allowed her to take. "Use these for the scrubbing out and so on, and make sure you wash every day when the hot water comes," Emer cautioned her parents and the Lynches. But despite their huge efforts to maintain some standards of hygiene on the ship, the first dozen fever cases appeared on the following Sunday, two weeks after they had set sail. Emer knew there had been several very ill looking passengers who had shivered and trembled, but were too weak to complain. What might have once passed for a simple chill soon became a disease of the most violent form, with high fever, vomiting, and the sweat lashing off the ill patients in rivers. The skin of the sufferers turned yellow, and in the small narrow bunks they could do little other than roll from side to side feebly, trying to get comfortable. "The first thing you've got to do is get the healthy people out of the bunk next to the sick ones," Emer said decisively, when her father told her that the ill had been taken badly quite suddenly in the middle of the night. "Where can they go? They can't lay on the floor. It's swimming with filth," Liam protested. "Get the floor cleaned up, then, and we'll see if we can't get some hammocks or something rigged up like they have in the crew's quarters." Her father was skeptical, but Emer insisted, "They can't lay next to the other person when he's vomiting, or doing something even worse! I'll go talk to the captain. You can get the healthy people in the bunks to go wash themselves and their clothes above, though I fear it may already be too late. We will have to keep an eye on them to see if they too come down with the disease." Liam agreed reluctantly.

Emer climbed back up onto the deck into the glowing June sunshine, trying not the let her fears get the better of her. She squared her shoulders and headed aft. Emer went to the captain as she had promised, and he assigned several crewmen to rig up hammocks using old nets, and leftover bits of sail. He also instructed that the men take out any spare hammocks from the crew's quarters to give to the steerage passengers. The ship's carpenter, David, and Emer's brothers Martin and Cormac, went below to hammer in sturdy hooks to suspend the makeshift sleeping tackle from, and soon the centre of the ship was festooned with the ghostly-looking shrouds. She looked on for a moment, then went back to her regular shipboard duties. Dalton was glad to see her, and used Emer's appearance in his cabin to clean it that morning as an opportunity to try to mend fences with her. They had been polite but distant ever since their chess game nine days before, and he could stand their coolness towards one another no longer. "Emer, I would speak with you for a moment. Would you care to sit?" "No, thank you sir, I have to be getting on. I would just as soon carry on working while we chat if it's all the same to you," Emer said as she turned her back to him and began to fold his mended clothes and put them away neatly in the drawers. "I'm sorry if we've both been busy, er, preoccupied, if I've been distant with you. But the truth is, I, well, I thought you were offended by our last private conversation, and I was hoping you would get over it, would come around, so to speak. "But you still seem, well, aloof, and once again I want to reassure you, that I never had any desire to offend you or jeopardise our friendship, Emer. You did say to be honest, after all," Dalton apologised. Emer turned to face him, and read the earnest desire to continue their friendship in his countenance. She hated being at odds with him, and so she declared firmly, "No, sir, I wasn't offended then, nor am I now. It's true you've seemed

distant, but you have your correspondence and reading to keep you occupied, plus the captain and mates and Mrs. Jenkins for company as well as myself. I really have been very busy, and thought I had better leave you to yourself for a while, since you yourself seemed, well, embarrassed and uneasy in my presence after our last conversation about love and such like. "You are quite right, Mr. Randolph, I did stipulate complete honesty as the basis for our friendship, so it would hardly be fair of me to complain if you took me at my word. But if you're angry or embarrassed in front of me, you have only to say." " No, not any of those things. I told you the truth, that's all. And I am telling it to you now. I miss our chats, Emer, and our dances on the deck. I would like very much to return to that companionable ease we once had with each other. It's going to be a long voyage, and I must confess, no one suits my tastes and interests so well as you," Dalton admitted, though his unease at his dependency on Emer's company had by no means disappeared. "Fine, if you're sure, then as soon as I finish this evening, shall I come in for a game of chess or draughts?" "If you would be so kind." Dalton made a polite little bow, and before he realised what he was doing, he took Emer's hand and kissed it. Emer jumped back, startled, and pulled her hand away quickly. "Oh no, now I've offended you again," Dalton groaned. "I'm sorry, I don't know why I did that." "No, I'm not upset, just surprised, that's all," Emer quickly denied. "I've had my hand kissed before, you know. Hand kissing is a normal social gallantry, nothing to be embarrassed about. It's just that I don't think of myself as a fine lady in these clothes, and with the mucky jobs I do around here, I wouldn't advise getting that close to my hands again, sir!" Emer grinned, trying to cover her unease. "Quite right," Dalton said stiffly, wrinkling his nose, and then laughed. But all the same, he stared at Emer from under hooded lids, trying to find any sign of either rejection or receptiveness. But Emer seemed her usual pleasant self as she rushed through the rest of her chores. After bringing some fresh towels, she scurried out of the cabin, and went into the captain's quarters to be alone

with her swirling thoughts. The place where Dalton's lips had touched her skin still tingled, sending small shocks thrilling sensation up and down her flesh, and leaving her breathless. She had never been kissed on the lips, but now put her hand up to her mouth, and wondered what it would be like for those warm, vibrant lips to touch hers. Then she squared her shoulders, and began to tackle the tidying for the Captain and Mrs. Jenkins. It was just a gallantry. It meant nothing, Emer tried to tell herself over and over again. But all the same, a small flame of hope burned in her heart that Dalton might be coming to care for her as much as she was becoming fascinated by him.

CHAPTER NINETEEN Late that night, Dalton impatiently went in search of Emer, and despite the stench, he braved the steerage hold to satisfy his longing to see her again. As he went down the last steps of the companionway, he heard Emer's voice. She was reading aloud from a story-book. His eyes adjusting gradually to the murky light cast by the lanterns, carefully make his way forward and silently drew back the makeshift curtain. Dalton saw Emer on one of the bottom bunks with all the children curled up around her listening intently. But as one little head after another began to droop, Emer laid the book aside and kissed each pale innocent face as she tucked the four of them into the bunk and blew out the lantern. Emer rose and went into the second compartment in their makeshift tented off area, and Dalton heard her murmuring to her sister-in-law Ailis, who ordered her about like a servant, demanding that Emer fetch this and that for her. Finally, Ailis got out of her bunk to go to the toilet, with Emer helping her, and then, without a word of thanks, Ailis blew out the lantern with a melodramatic sigh.

A few moments later, Emer came out from behind the curtains. In the dim half-light Emer could only make out a huge looming form standing near, but from the size and sheer magnetism, she knew it could only be Dalton. She wondered how long he had been standing there watching her. Had Dalton seen her with the children, heard Ailis' incessant complaints? Emer sighed. It was silly of her to have worried about a simple kiss on the hand, for how could a man like Dalton ever be interested in a mere governess? Or worse still, an ex-governess who had been reduced to working as a shipboard skivvy? she thought gloomily as she walked towards Dalton. "Why the huge sigh, my dear? Trouble?" Dalton asked, his concern evident in his tone. Emer shrugged as she went to wash her hands in the bucket nearby. "No, nothing out of the ordinary." "Come, dear, you need a bit of fresh air," Dalton said kindly, noting the weary lines etched in her face, and the dark circles under her eyes. Dalton took Emer's hand firmly and led her onto the deck. Emer, too tired to protest, took comfort from his strength and soothing presence as he led her up to the rail at the poop deck. Dalton sat himself on the hard boards, before pulling Emer down to nestle close beside him. They leaned their backs against the rails and sat silently gazing up at the stars. "You've been working much too hard, Emer. You'll wear yourself out before your next birthday at the rate you're going," Dalton chided softly, stroking her hand lightly as he looked up at the night sky. "There's always so much to do, besides my job, I mean. And I know Ailis is always complaining, but it's nearing her time, and I'm sure she can't be very comfortable," Emer replied in an unusually subdued manner. She was unwilling to spoil her precious time with Dalton either arguing or talking about her family, when all she wanted to do was escape from all her woes for a little while in his beguiling company. "She's been spoilt and indulged by her husband, and has gotten so used to getting her own way, she just takes more and more advantage of all of you," Dalton criticised mildly.

"It's only natural, though, isn't it? When you love someone, really love them, you want the best for them," Emer said quietly as she turned to look at his handsome profile. "Yes, but a certain woman I know wouldn't let anyone spoil her or treat her like a queen upon a burnished throne, now would she?" Emer's throat went dry. "I wouldn't let any man treat me like an object, if that's what you mean. I want to be an equal, not protected and wrapped in cotton wool simply because an accident of birth made me a woman instead of a man," Emer replied, hoping she hadn't revealed her delight at the implications of his words. "Yes, my dear, that's very commendable. But you must allow that under certain circumstances, say for example, when a woman is in Ailis's condition, she does deserve special consideration." "Yes, yes, of course, but as you just pointed out, to overdo it is to ruin the woman's character, and allow her to become selfish and self-indulgent." "No fears there where you're concerned, then, is there, Emer? You're the least selfish person I've ever met. I doubt all the riches in the world would ever change that." Emer blushed and rose to her feet. "That's a fine compliment, Mr. Randolph, but one I hardly deserve." Dalton caught her hand before she could walk away, and desperate not to lose her company, maintained, "But it's true. Charlie told me you gave all your clothes away to those poor wretches down in the hold, and also give away as much of your food ration as you can in addition to having to share it with Joe the stowaway. All your efforts are very commendable, my dear girl, but also very foolish. You need to keep up your strength." "Really, I do so little." She stepped away and moved to descend the ladder which led down to the gallery. She was bone-tired, but she had promised Dalton her company. He looked at her so longingly in the dusky half light of the lantern, her heart went out to him. "Come, I promised you a game of draughts." She smiled shyly. "Ah yes, checkers, as they call them in Canada. Are you sure you're not too tired?"

"Not at all," she lied, aching to stay with him for as long as possible. As they played in his cabin, Emer tried to be entertaining, regaling Dalton with tales of Finn Mac Cool and his band of warriors, the Fianna. But he could see her eyelids drooping, and after the third game, he took Emer's hand across the table as she moved to set up the pieces again, and said, "No, you've beaten me into a cocked hat and you know it. To win again would be to rub my nose in defeat," he teased, and then rose to pour them two glasses of brandy. "No, really, I shouldn't," Emer protested. "It will relax you, and help you sleep. It's also good for any minor aches and pains, and some say it's beneficial in warding off fevers. So please, drink it up, there's a good girl, and then go to bed," Dalton urged. Emer could barely keep her eyes open, so she did as she was told, and gulped down the fiery liquid quickly. She choked as it hit the back of her throat and sent a molten trail down to her stomach. Dalton laughed as he patted her on the back until she could breathe again. "No, my dear, it's meant to be savoured in the mouth, like this." Dalton took a sip, and without any premeditation, he bent over Emer, and fastened his mouth upon her own. Whilst holding her head still with his fingers interlaced in her lush burgundy hair, he parted her lips, and then transferred the brandy to her own mouth. Emer, dazed with fatigue and the strange sensations which coursed through her veins, dare not move as the brandy entered her mouth, to be followed a moment later by Dalton's tongue. She swallowed the liquor before she gagged on it, and then Dalton's kiss deepened further as he began to explore the recesses of her mouth thoroughly, slanting her head sideways as the thrilling passionate contact carried them both away. Emer's inner defences warned that the kiss was wrong, dangerous even, but her natural curiosity, and sensitivity to Dalton's needs stopped her from protesting or struggling. She had wondered before what his kisses would like, and her voyage of discovery was truly astounding. Emer could hear small cries coming from her throat as he wrapped his arms around her, and her

breasts came up against his solid chest when Dalton pulled her out of the chair. She stretched up on tiptoe, and her arms began to go around his shoulders. Even more than her own burgeoning needs, Emer could sense Dalton's longing and his fears, for if she rejected him now, it would dent their relationship irreparably, she knew. Dalton was not a man who could trust others or his own feelings easily, and she sensed that for him too, the growing attraction between them was a completely new experience. Dalton broke off the kiss when he felt his physical response so achingly that he knew if he didn't pull away, he might shock Emer and run the risk of losing her. But instead of the horror he expected to see on her face, she simply smiled, and quipped, "Thank you for the lesson, in drinking brandy, of course. Good night." Emer closed the door softly behind her, and Dalton let out a ragged sigh. He hadn't meant to kiss her, which made his behaviour all the more puzzling. He had longed to for days, yet when it had finally happened, it hadn't been the cold-blooded, controlled, determined lovemaking he had experienced in the past. He had just drifted into the kiss unawares, and the sensations had been quite alarming. Delightful, but certainly completely unexpected. "Good God, man, you can't go around kissing the cabin boy," Dalton muttered to himself as he thumped his head with the palm of his hand, and proceeded to throw back another snifter of brandy to steady his nerves. Then he undressed and flung himself down on the bunk, and warned himself over and over again to stay away from Emer, and not take advantage of her youth and availability by kissing and fondling her. All the same, sleep was a long time coming, as he replayed the kiss over and over again in his mind, and his desire burned within him like a blazing inferno.

CHAPTER TWENTY The following day aboard the ship brought an increase in the number of fever patients, but though many of them had yellow-tinged skin and suffered from violent vomiting and extreme fever, others began to display different symptoms entirely. Some were raving and thrashing about, while others were begging for water and asking to be allowed to go overboard for a swim. In addition, there were more and more cases of the bloody flux, and a general bowel complaint became prevalent amongst many of the passengers as they got down to the last of their personal provisions, and ate the rather rotten remains of cabbages, and turnips, which they devoured tops and all. Mrs. Jenkins, in spite of the captain's orders to stay away, consulted her medicine chest and went below to see what she could do to alleviate their suffering. Emer's parents and the Lynches worked ceaselessly to keep the hold clean. Emer's own family weren't suffering from either of the pair of strange fevers, but the two youngest girls, Roisin and Maeve, were still persistently seasick despite the relatively calm weather, and the children were all oddly listless. Nuala, who querulously announced that she was also expecting a baby, demanded more rations, pointing out that it was a waste feeding the girls when all they did was throw it all back up anyway.

"Since you're not seasick, then, Nuala, I would suggest you at least take your own children on deck for a bit of fresh air, and some exercise for yourself," Emer said, with a edge to her voice which the insensitive Nuala failed to catch. "Oh, couldn't you do it, Emer? I feel so weak and listless from hunger. Perhaps I could go up, but I'm absolutely starving at the moment," Nuala whined. Emer rounded on her sister in law furiously. "You dare mention that word on this ship when those poor wretches at the back are dying! All the oats and fish in the world isn't going to make them get any better. Look at you, twice as big as I am, complaining you're starving. You ought to be ashamed of yourself. "Now get up on that deck, and you too, Ailis, so I can clean up this mess without you constantly nagging me and getting in my way," Emer gritted out, as she held a bowl under Maeve's chin while the girl was sick. "Well, I never!" Ailis said haughtily "Then maybe it's about time you did!" Just then she caught Dalton's eye as he descended into the hold. Emer blushed and turned back to Maeve to mop her face, hating Dalton to see her and her family in such a state. Her sailor's outfit was covered in all sorts of unmentionable filth, and her unruly burgundy hair had come loose from its leather thong to tumble riotously down over her shoulders and into her eyes. Dalton stepped forward to come to the beleaguered Emer's rescue, and said politely, "Ladies, if you would do me the honour of escorting me above now, I shall bring the children up on deck in a moment." Both women simpered at the tall, incredibly handsome man, and Emer noticed sardonically how prompt they were to scurry up the ladders with Dalton. She gathered up the children, and holding one of them in her arms, she led the other three in a little line to the foot of the stairs. "Come on, Blinne, you're a big girl, you can walk up yourself, and help your sister." Oisin was also able to walk up a few of the stairs even though the ship had begun to roll, but Daig's head lolled listlessly on Emer's

shoulder, and she felt his forehead was burning up. As soon as Dalton came back down for the children, she said quickly, "Here, Dalton, you take the girls up. I'll bring Oisin and Daig. I need to see Daig in the light." Dalton stooped to pick up the girls in one arm, while he steadied Oisin so that Emer could get a firmer grip on his hand. Emer followed Dalton up the stairs, and then he turned to her and took the child out of her arms, brushing up against her breast as he did so. A sudden gust of wind caused Emer to start falling backwards. Dalton instinctively grabbed her and held her tightly to his side. "You're ill? You're not going to faint, are you?" he asked worriedly, gazing into her aquamarine eyes intently, his lips only inches from her own. "No, it's the only deck rolling," Emer denied hurriedly. "Come, let me look at the boy." Dalton cradled the child in his arms gently as she stepped back to examine him. Emer could now see that Daig's cheeks were flaming red, and his neck and jaw all puffy and swollen. "Oh no, I fear it's mumps! Put him down, quickly, before you become infected!" Emer gasped, horrified. "It's kind of you to be so concerned for my safety, dearest Emer, but I've already had it as a child. Have you?" Dalton patted her on the shoulder reassuringly. "Aye, I have, but it's very dangerous for pregnant women, and Ailis and Nuala are both expecting." "Oh, God," Dalton groaned. "Ailis might be all right, but Nuala just told me..." "I know, I know, she's expecting. That's how my mother lost the twins she was expecting after I was born, and also a baby after Cathan, when he and the girls came down with it." "How awful for her," Dalton said sympathetically, as he held the boy tightly to him, and marvelled at how the child snuggled against him so trustingly.

"What can we do, Dalton? There might be other cases on board, and it's very dangerous for grown men to catch it, or so I've heard. The neighbouring landlord at Kilbracken caught it as a grown man from his only son, and was unable to have any more children after that." "I'll speak to the captain," Dalton said decisively. "I believe we should put them in the unoccupied stateroom across from mine, and there is also the gallery and the deck adjoining it if we start getting more patients. I can make a case for quarantining the children up there, since you and Cathan and I have all had it, and we can nurse them up there easily." "We?" Emer asked, wide-eyed. "No, really, Mr. Randolph, you're very kind, but this is my family, and...." "It will be a problem for all of us if it spreads. Besides, I was trained as a medical doctor for a time, so while it was some time ago, do recall a fair bit of what I learned, and know what I'm doing. "You do trust me, don't you?" Dalton asked with a hint of anger as she continued to stared at him. He stroked Emer's dishevelled hair away from her face and gazed deeply into her eyes. Emer dipped her head in embarrassment as she struggled to subdue the thick tresses whipping around in the wind into a neat plait at the back. "Yes, of course I trust you, Dalton," she sighed as she lifted her head to gaze up at him candidly. "But think of the inconvenience to you. And besides, you are after all an important paying passenger. The captain won't approve." "It's no trouble at all, I assure you. I shall tell him it was all my idea, so he can't possibly stand on ceremony. The main thing is to stop it from spreading. Now, let's get these children up to the stateroom straight away." The captain was reluctant to give over the fine passenger stateroom to the sick children, but when Dalton explained to him how dangerous the mumps were, not only to pregnant women, but also men, including his crew, Captain Jenkins gave his consent. Emer prepared the double bunk with fresh sheets, and hot water and basin and ewer sets and cloths. Then she made some makeshift sick beds for the children out of old sails stuffed into large pillowcases, in case she had to put them on the floor and let an

adult use the bunk.. "At least there is a watercloset in here for them, and good idea about several basins," Dalton observed as he helped her pull more clean sheets and towels out of the bottom drawer of the dresser. "I'll have to bathe them in cool water to get the fever down, so could you get one of the tubs out of the galley, and tell Cathan to come and help me?" Dalton instructed as he yanked off his silk coat, unbuttoned and removed his waistcoat, and then began to roll up his sleeves "I'll help you," Emer offered. Dalton shook his head. "You have enough to do with your sisters down below. In any case you'd better hurry back and tell Nuala and Ailis where the children are and what's happened. Then go about your duties. The crew will be wanting their dinner soon, and you might also consider putting up some broth for the children." Emer nodded, and as she watched him gently taking off Daig's little coat, she impulsively went up to Dalton and hugged him. "Thank you, Dalton. I don't know what I'd do without you," she whispered. Dalton kissed her lightly on the lips. "The feeling is mutual, my dear Miss Nugent." He smiled, his golden eyes glowing down at her affectionately, and then he turned his attention back to the suffering toddler. Emer did as Dalton had instructed, and was just finishing cooking the dinner in the upper galley when she heard a loud crash of thunder and saw a jagged flash of lightning streak across the darkening sky. The captain called for all hands. Emer put out the fire and left the dinner for the officers on the stove to keep warm as she was summoned aloft. The rain was pouring down in torrents as they climbed the rigging to furl some of the sails, for the wind was gusting so violently they began to fear the whole ship might capsize. "Just leave the main topsail. Everything else comes in," the bo'sun bellowed over another clap of thunder. "Jut when we were going to eat dinner too," Fred grumbled. "Cathan said it's all ready. As soon as we come down, we can eat,"

Emer called into the wind. Fred's eyes lit up. Emer and Joe were sent to the fore mast, while Fred was told to climb the main mast. Wrestling with the heavy, slippery sails was an difficult task at the best of times, but the sea rolled under them sickeningly, and more than once one of the lads lost his balance and tried to hang on until one of his ship-mates righted him. Joe the stowaway, worked closely beside Emer, watching her like a hawk, and lending a hand in tying up the sails to the yardarms as her fingers grew progressively numb with cold. They were up on the foremast, yet even high in the air, Emer could smell the fetid stench coming from the forepeak and the hold, and heard the groans of the sick passengers. She worried about her family, being cooped up down below, and was anxious to finish the tasks aloft so she could go down to visit them. But the dinner had to be served in the officers' mess as well, so a visit to the steerage section would have to wait. Emer climbed down carefully, despite Fred's offer of, "Race you to the food!" shouted from the main mast. Through her streaming hair she could see his jaunty little figure scurrying down the companionway which led to the crew's galley. Many of the men were already down, but Emer stood stock still on the spot as something high up in the mizzen mast caught her eye. Squinting her eyes against the stinging rain, Emer recognised Tomas, her youngest brother in law, struggling to keep his grip on the rigging. "What's the matter! What's wrong!" Joe shouted in her ear above the roar of the wind when he saw her stop dead in her tracks and stare, the rain streaming down her face in rivulets. "It's Tomas! He's in trouble!" she called back as she began to run toward the mizzen mast. Suddenly a huge swell cast the ship up in the air about ten feet. Joe caught Emer by the waist as she began to roll perilously close to the side of the ship. She struggled to get to her feet, but froze in terror as a white object landed on deck in front of her with a sickening thud.

Emer's heart nearly stopped as she reached out a trembling hand to roll over the body and look at it. Despite her fervent prayers, she knew in her heart that Tomas was dead.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE "Don't do it, Emer," Joe urged as he grabbed her wrist to stop her from looking at her dead brother in law, who had fallen from the mast high above as the sea raged and the storm roared all around the Pegasus. She shook off his impeding arm frantically and turned the corpse over. Tomas lay there, completely at peace. The rain washed his face clean as the blood flowed out of his caved-in skull, leaving gobbets of bone and brain on the rough wooden boards, which began to spread out to cover the deck in a sickening slick as the icy rain teemed down. "Dear God, no!" Emer whispered, trembling. Joe had to forcibly haul her to her feet as she knelt there clinging onto the boy's drenched shirt, her fingers gripping him convulsively. "Get inside! I'll find a sail or something for him!" Joe ordered. "No, I can't leave him like that!" Emer shouted. She struggled to hold on to Tomas and lift him. "You'll be washed away by the next big wave, Emer. Now go! Look, the captain is waiting for his dinner above! There's nothing you can do for him now. You have your duties, Emer. Leave him and go! I'll take care of him," Joe insisted, shaking her until he saw the light of sense return to her unusual aquamarine eyes.

Joe forcibly hauled Emer to the door leading to the upper galley, and she clung weakly to the handle of the door as her stomach emptied at the horror of what she had just witnessed. She watched from the relative shelter of the doorway as Joe bring an old sail and wrap up the boy. He took him down to the crew's quarters, where he could lay until the weather calmed and they could give Tomas a decent burial at sea. Then he returned to clean the deck. Emer brushed her dripping hair back from her forehead as she struggled to retie her leather thong again with trembling hands. She forced herself to go into the galley even though her stomach was heaving, and served up the meal onto six plates and brought them into the waiting diners. "Good God, girl! What on earth has happened!" Captain Jenkins exclaimed as he took in her soaking clothes, bespattered with blood, brains and vomit. Emer looked down numbly, and then apologised. "I'm s-s-sorry, s-s-sir," she stammered as her teeth chattered. "I didn't realise I looked so bad. Tomas Lynch is dead, sir. He fell from the rigging onto the deck." Mrs. Jenkins moved to put her arm around Emer, and led her gently from the room before Dalton could reach her. He sat down again abruptly as the five men in at the table turned their glances to him, and said gruffly, "Please pass the salt. Excuse my manners for reaching across." The meal passed off in silence, save only for occasional nervous giggles as things slid to and fro violently on the table top as the ship continued to bob up and down like a cork. Dalton had to force the food into his mouth as he chewed mechanically, using all of his willpower to stop himself from running out of the room to find Emer, enfold her in his arms, and comfort her. Mrs. Jenkins took Emer to the galley, and gave her a clean dry set of clothes to wear from the slop chest, before saying, "I'm sorry about young Tomas. He was a fine lad. But things are going to get far worse aboard this ship, Emer, and we have to be strong. I expect you to carry on and do your duty. Any show of weakness could be at your peril."

Emer raised her eyes to Mrs. Jenkins' plump maternal face questioningly. "Admit it, Emer. Tomas was weak. He was afraid of heights. What happened to him out there just now would have occurred sooner or later. On board this ship one error, one mistake, can mean the difference between life and death. I know you love your family, Emer, but you must look out for yourself as well," Mrs. Jenkins warned. "We all look after each other in our family. I can't just turn my back on them!" Emer argued through frozen lips as she dried her dripping hair on a towel, before moving to strip off her sodden clothes. "Even if it means your own death? You can't help them if you get killed!" Mrs. Jenkins said sharply, shaking Emer by the shoulders. "Is that why you go visit the sick behind your husband's back then?" she challenged. Mrs. Jenkins sighed. "You're young, my dear, too young to throw your life away senselessly. All I advise is for you to be a bit more cautious in future. If I know you, you would have gone up to try to help him, and you might both have been killed." "I couldn't reach him in time," Emer lamented, as the tears began to fall into her lap. "I was just about to go up for him when...." "Forget it. It's finished now. You tried your best, but Tomas still died. Sometimes you just have to accept that you can't save everyone, Emer." "No, I can't, Mrs. Jenkins, but I can at least try," Emer said firmly, as she finished dressing and then returned to the galley to pour the coffee and dish out the dessert. After all, someone had just died, but life went on, and the niceties had to be observed, she thought with a bitter pang. "You'll have to put out all the fires below after this. The weather is worsening." Mrs. Jenkins took the coffee tray, and with one last sympathetic look, she disappeared. Emer knew she had already put her fire out. She was just about to pass the reminder along to Cathan in the lower galley when he came in a short time later with a plate of food for his sister and said quietly, "Joe told me about Tomas, about what you tried to do for

him. It must have been awful." "It was. Listen, is everything all right down below with the meal? And has the fire been put out?" Emer asked distractedly, as she pushed the plate of food to one side, unable to stomach it at the moment. "I've been having a turn nursing the children until just now, when Mr. Randolph came back from having his dinner. Fred's served up the crew, and I guess him being a regular sailor, he'd know to put the fire out. We've all eaten now except for you." "Right, then. I don't want to go back in there to face them, not after they've just seen me such a mess. You go in and clear away the table, and I'll make a start on the dishes in the mess below." "All right, Sis. But try not to take it so hard. You did everything I could." "I'm the one who got him the job." "Aye, but he should never have gone up. He was supposed to be working with the other crewmen on deck more, like David the carpenter. That bastard Pertwee sent him." Emer heaved a ragged sigh. "He sure does hate the Irish. Now thanks to him, there's one less of us." Cathan kissed his sister's cold cheek, then went to do as she had instructed. She went down to the crew's galley with a heavy heart, and began to collect the enamelled tin plates in a large heap. Her progress was slow due to the ship rolling from side to side, and then from stem to stern like a bucking bronco. Emer fell against the table, and dropped half the plates, and then had to stoop to pick them up again. But as she finally collected the last of them and neared the door to the galley, she smelt a foul odour. Running inside to put down the plates with a thump and clatter, she saw the entire galley was on fire. Now the one thing she knew was more dangerous than a storm was a fire on a wooden ship. Emer forced herself to face head on the terror of the flames as she grabbed two water buckets and tried to douse the blaze.

"Fire! Fire!" she cried. But no one heard; the crew were all above on watch or working the ropes. Emer tried to tackle the inferno with the water from the laundry tubs, but it still crept up the wall inexorably, devouring the wood like a hungry animal. Joe suddenly appeared behind her on the deck, and gaped. Emer nearly wept with relief. "Get some help! Tell the captain to come quickly," she cried. "Come out of there!" Joe begged. "Go, get someone now, or we'll all be killed!" Emer shrieked as she desperately beat at the flames with an old bit of sail, before running to the tool locker and grabbing an axe. Swinging the tool with all her might, she heard the burning wood splinter. She carried on chopping down the wall between the galley and the main saloon, showering the deck with burning debris. The flames which had been licking the ceiling, and threatening to set alight the upper deck, were no longer quite so dangerous. Emer began to stamp on the fragments of wall which were still burning, and douse them with rain water from a couple of buckets she dipped in the nearest water barrel. By the time the mates arrived and Dalton, she had just about succeeding in getting the fire put out. They formed a bucket brigade with her to douse out the rest, and then Pertwee checked for sparks while Emer sat down exhaustedly amid the soaking ashes. The first mate, Patrick Bradley, stared at her in amazement. "My God, you've saved us all. Quick thinking, girl! Are you all right?" Emer nodded, her voice only able to come out as a thin croak as she tried to cough out all the smoke she had inhaled. The captain came down to look at the damage then, and Dalton and Emer could only stare at each other longingly across from each other as the captain exclaimed over the incident.

He then attempted to make a small joke by exclaiming, "Really, Miss Nugent, you're the worst crewman I know for ruining clothes!" Emer's self-control snapped, and she began to weep over Tomas, and how close they had come to losing the ship and most likely perishing in the storm. Dalton once again wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her senseless. Instead, Joe picked her up off the deck like a small child, and carried her to her bunk at the back of the damaged saloon. Through the thin partition, the captain could be heard issuing orders to clean up the mess and get the carpenter to repair the damage. "It could have been a lot worse," Captain Jenkins remarked to Dalton in an awed tone. Dalton numbly stood rooted to the spot in horrified fascination, unable to erase the image of Emer against the roaring backdrop of flames. "It could have burnt the whole ship if she hadn't chopped down that wall and stopped the floor from burning right through. I don't care what the Randall Company says, I'm giving her a bonus for her heroism, both now and in trying to save young Tomas." Mrs. Jenkins surveyed the ruins of the galley, and rolling up her sleeves, began to get to work cleaning up the mess. "For once I'm glad someone didn't take my kindly-meant advice," she remarked cryptically. Then she urged Dalton, "You'd better go check on the children. Make sure the smoke hasn't affected them in any way." Dalton nodded silently, and did as he was told. But the vision of Emer in the flames as he stood by helplessly was etched in his memory, no matter how hard he tried to dispel it. He couldn't bear to think about what might have happened to her if she hadn't been able to put the fire out. He heard the captain say gruffly, "There will have to be a full investigation, though. Whoever is responsible for this is going to get the rope's end"

"It couldn't have been the girl herself, I suppose?" the second mate, Mr. Pertwee, asked bluntly. "No, she was up with us cooking, and Cathan was clearing away," Mrs. Jenkins said angrily. "Yes, but if the boy was clearing away, that means she was down here," Mr. Pertwee persisted. He had never approved of the saucy young woman, with the face and figure lovely enough to tempt any saint, working as a cabin boy. It was only flying in the face of fate having a woman on board ship anyway, he maintained, subscribing to one of the traditional sailors' superstitions wholeheartedly. "I will look into the matter!" the captain roared, and stormed out, leaving the rest of the crew feeling distinctly on edge.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO The storm in the Atlantic raged on for the next three days, but on the fourth afternoon things grew calmer, and at last Tomas was able to be given a decent burial at sea. In that he was not alone, however, for when Emer finally managed to get down below with several other crewmen to help clean out the filth which had accumulated in the hold during the long storm, they found seven people dead in their bunks. Two of them were amongst those in the last stages of starvation, while the others had been fever patients. Emer looked in horror at the black rash on their skins, and the puffiness of their faces. She pulled on a pair of sturdy gloves as she began to help scrub out the place from top to bottom. As she came up on deck with an overflowing bucket, Joe came up to her and said quietly, "The Captain has organised the funeral for two o'clock day. You're going to have to tell his family soon." Emer had not yet had the chance to tell the Lynches, so busy had she been with cooking, cleaning, working the sails, nursing the children, and cleaning up after the devastating fire in the galley. All of her male family members had elected not to brave Nuala and Ailis' reactions in their present conditions, and so left it to Emer to tell them. Joe had called them cowards, but Cormac had replied angrily, "Emer got him the job, even though he really didn't need it. It's all her fault, so she can tell the family." Emer's heart had sunk then, and she had been in a black depression ever since, which not even Dalton's many kindnesses to her could lift. It was as though she were living in a freezing fog of greyness. She began to notice gloomily that Dalton avoided looking at her when she came into a room, as did the rest of the crew. Even he blames me, she reflected miserably.

She went about her chores with a heavy heart, and tried to avoid what she perceived as everyone's accusing stares, which were actually one's of pity over all she had been through. She nodded grimly at Joe's information, and then caught the second mate Pertwee looking at her with his usual leering gaze. Normally Emer would have just ignored it, but today her unhappiness at Tomas' unfair treatment and her own caused her patience to snap as she demanded, "And just what do you think you're staring at!" "The woman who has brought us all this bad luck! You were responsible for that fire!" Pertwee accused. "That's not true! I'm the one who put it out! You were there, you saw me yourself!" "You left the stove door open after serving the meal, and the burning logs fell out onto the floor. So it's your fault, and you will be flogged for it today, right after that brat's funeral." "You bastard!" Emer hissed. She unthinkingly raised her fist to strike the second mate. Her hand was grabbed by Joe with lightning speed. As he wrestled with her, the second mate spat a wad of tobacco onto the deck right in front of Emer as he stalked away with a triumphant grin. "Let me go, Joe! It's his fault Tomas died. I'll bloody kill him!" "Emer, Socradh thu fein. Calm down, now, stop it!" Joe hung onto her with a huge bear hug, and eventually subdued her struggles until she collapsed weakly against his chest. She panted in fury, however, and in the briefest and coarsest manner she knew how, told Joe exactly what she thought of the second mate and his accusations. "If you're already facing the cat for the fire, hitting a superior officer would only make matters worse," Joe berated her as he hung onto her with one arm around her waist. "But he sent Tomas aloft-" "It was all hands on deck, you know it was. We had to get the sail down. No one was to blame. Calm down, just stop and think for a moment before your temper runs wild."

With his other hand he smoothed her burgundy tresses back from her face and kissed her on the cheek. Emer acknowledge the truth of Joe's admonitions, and ruffled his hair. In the end, she heaved a hugged sigh, and snuggled against his shoulder for a brief minute. "I'm glad we didn't throw you overboard. You're a good friend, Joe, and I don't deserve you." She smiled gently. Emer looked up and saw Dalton staring at them in the distance, and though she raised a tentative hand to wave, Dalton looked at Emer as though he believed that she were guilty of the worst crimes she had been accused of as well. He turned away without a sign of friendliness. But Emer had little time to worry about the mercurial moods and accusations of the arrogant Dalton Randolph, for she had to go below to tell the Lynch family what had happened to Tomas, and that the funeral was to take place shortly. She climbed down and went to the forepeak to tell her sisters-in-law of Tomas' fate. Now she had to suffer in words what she believed she could read in Dalton's eyes. "This is all your fault! I shall never, ever forgive you!" Nuala screeched. She threw herself on the bunk in a fit of hysterics. The Lynches went pale, and Ailis called her all the evil names she could think of. "I'm sorry, Da, I tried, I really did try!" Emer whispered, backing away from the grief-stricken family. "It's not your fault, do you hear me, Emer!" Liam chided her. "Don't ever take the blame for something you didn't do! If you could have saved him, you would have, in a way Cormac and Martin or even his own brothers would never have dared." "But I got him the job on the ship." "Which he loved! He was turning into a fine sailor. God chose to take him. It wasn't your fault!" "Yes, Da," Emer sighed, but still sounded unconvinced.

Matters became even worse at two o'clock when Emer had to endure the funeral. She stood numbly throughout the service, with her head down, avoiding everyone's accusing stares. Then, true to the second mate's words, as soon as the bodies were committed to the deep and the burial service said, she found her arms seized. Despite Joe's attempts to help her, Emer was dragged to the main mast and tied there by the wrists. "It is my unfortunate duty to have to mete out punishment to this crew member for allowing the galley to be set alight," Captain Jenkins announced to the gathering. "Though she did manage to finally put out the fire, it was her carelessness that caused it in the first place, so she is to be given a dozen lashes. Bo'sun, carry out my orders if you please." Cathan and Joe tried to defend Emer, and Fred looked as though was about to speak. But suddenly he shut his mouth and slunk away to the back to the crowd. Cathan whispered to Joe urgently in Irish, "It was Fred! He served up the crew. He was the last one down there when the mess had emptied out. I saw him. I went down for my meal after nursing the children, and then came straight back up with Emer's plate." "It won't make any difference, lad," Joe advised, restraining the young boy forcibly. "The captain will go ahead with the punishment anyway." "I'm going to tell Emer, so she can defend herself even if you aren't willing to!" Cathan insisted, ducking under Joe's arm as he tried to hold him back Running over to Emer, who was standing numbly with her head resting against the main mast, Cathan repeated in Irish exactly what he had told Joe. Emer's head lifted, and she turned her glowing aquamarine eyes to her brother's pale face urgently. "Say nothing! Fred is too weak a person to take his punishment like a man." "But it's not fair. You're innocent!" "I deserve to be punished for letting Tomas die." Cathan stared at her openmouthed.

"Everyone thinks it's my fault. I can see it on everyone's faces, yours, the Lynches, even Mr. Randolph. So you will say nothing, little brother, do you hear? Promise me!" Joe pulled a stunned Cathan away and hugged his head to his chest so the boy wouldn't have to witness his sister being flogged. The bo'sun Mr. Taggart, a kind wiry man in his mid-thirties, gently pulled the shirt down over Emer's shoulders and said, "Sorry, lass, I know it ain't your fault. But orders is orders." Jim Beckett the steward looked as though he would protest, but Emer met his eye and shook her head. She mouthed "Thank you," and steeled herself for the first blow. Taggart was just about to take the stroke when the second mate demanded the privilege of flogging the guilty party. Emer's heart sank. She was determined to be brave in front of the entire ship, but she knew Pertwee would beat her with every ounce of his strength. She idly wondered where Dalton was, and hoped he wasn't there in the crowd to see her like this. A forlorn hope that he might speak up for her went unanswered. But Mr. Bradley, the first mate, having overheard her heated exchange with Cathan, and seeing the gloating satisfaction on Mr. Pertwee's face, suddenly demanded, "No, I'm the senior officer here. I shall punish her." He grabbed the cat out of the second mate's fingers. Though he put up a struggle, Pertwee eventually relinquished the whip made of knotted rope to his superior, and stalked away. Though the first mate did not put his back into it, the ropes bit into Emer's skin painfully, and she gritted her teeth as the tears sprang to her eyes. She could feel the skin on her back shred, and frantically fought back the urge to cry out. Her only thought was of the pain, and her longing to see Dalton, even if they did think her guilty. Just as the first mate counted ten, Emer got her wish, for with a roar, Dalton stepped forward, and bellowed, "What is the meaning of this! What has this girl done to deserve such treatment?" "She was responsible for the fire in the lower galley," the captain

said flatly. "But she put it out. We were all there! We saw it with our own eyes!" Dalton said in confusion. "It was her fault it started in the first place, with her negligence down in the galley," the captain argued, his face turning puce at having been contradicted in public. "But she wasn't in that galley, she was in the one above, with your wife. You know yourself that she had just come off the deck, still covered in her brother Tomas' blood. How could she have been to blame?" Captain Jenkins paused at this, recollecting it just as clearly as Dalton, and following his line of reasoning to its logical conclusion: he had punished the wrong crewman. But his need to save face took precedence over his desire to be fair. "I will not have my authority or judgment questioned by anyone on this ship, do you hear,sir? Two more lashes, and be quick about it, Mr. Bradley. We haven't got all day." Dalton was torn between love for Emer and duty to his father. He could tell the captain who he was, and order the flogging to stop, but what then concerning his investigation of the captain's and his colleagues' dishonest practices? Dalton looked at Emer, and saw the relief as well as anger written all over her face. "Get on with it, if you please, Mr. Bradley. I'm getting a bit sunburnt here!" Emer declared with false bravado. Dalton turned his eyes away, and sighed. "I'm sorry, Captain. You are correct. It's your ship, and I had no right to interfere." Emer steeled herself for another blow, pleased that Dalton had at least tried to defend her, but angered that he should embarrass her by asking for mercy when she herself had begged for none. Finally the last two lashes were given, and Jim Beckett moved to unite her wrists. "You're a brave lass. Never let a peep out of you, unlike some of the lily-livered lot around here," he said loudly, before adding in a whisper, "I've given Joe some cream, but I'm afraid salt in the wounds is still the best thing for this."

"Thanks, Jim, I appreciate it." Emer smiled wryly as she pulled up her shirt to cover her breasts, and then took a few small staggering steps away from the mast. The first mate caught her by the elbow before she fell, but Emer hissed through gritted teeth, "Let me do it by myself, please!" With her head held high, she walked through the crew, which parted in front of her. Without a glance at Dalton, she headed below, with Joe and Reamann following close in her wake. "You were so brave," Reamann marvelled as they took her down to her quarters and helped her rub salt and then the steward's special cream into her wounds. "Foolish, more like. Taking someone else's beating for them," the first mate chipped in, suddenly appearing from around the door. "I heard what you said to your brother. My parents are Irish, you see, so I understood just about every word." "You know Emer wouldn't have turned him in, even if he did deserve it," Joe remarked quietly as he worked. "But you didn't take the beating for the fire, did you, Emer? You blame yourself for Tomas' death, and wanted to punish yourself for it. You know, not one of us thinks it was your fault, however hard a time the rest of the family have given you over the whole affair. Just remember that, girlie," Patrick Bradley said. He left Emer alone with her friends while he sought out Dalton to tell him the truth. He could sense the great attraction they felt for one another, and wanted to mend fences between them if he possibly could. "I've had a few beatings in my day, and I'm afraid this looks fairly bad, for all Mr. Bradley was trying to be gentle with you, Emer," Joe tisked, as he rubbed the salt into the wounds and she saw stars. "You're telling me!" she groaned. "I ought to throw that useless bastard Fred overboard. He nearly got us all killed, and you into trouble!" Reamann threatened. "And after you saving the ship and all, this is how the captain treats you." "Just forget it. Revenge is pointless," Joe said forcefully. "If you want to help her, then take her part against your two spiteful sisters. You know Emer did everything to help Tomas, and I will not have her upset any further by this whole shocking tragedy."

Reamann promised that he would speak to Ailis and Nuala. Just then there was a tap at the door, and Cormac, Martin, Garvan and Oran all peered around the door. "Sorry, I'm not just at my best now, if you could come visit later," Emer said in her poshest imitation English accent, and they all began to laugh. "I have to say I am proud of you, Sis. You took your punishment like a man, even though it was so unfair," Cormac admired grudgingly. "That's high praise indeed coming from you," Emer murmured against her pillow. "Cathan told me everything. You should have let him tell the truth," Martin chided, stroking his sister's burgundy hair softly. Garvan added, "And Joe here told us all about how you tried to save Tomas. No one blames you for his death, though I imagine Ailis and Nuala might have said some harsh words that they'll regret later. I understand how it must have been quite a shock for you, seeing him die like that." "Yes, yes, it was." Emer nodded, allowing a tear to fall for the dead boy. "Well, just you look after yourself, Emer, and the next time the ship goes on fire, let those buggers all burn," Oran said angrily. The men all turned to look at him in surprise. "Why Oran, if I didn't know better, I'd say you were Emer's fiance," Martin teased. They all laughed, until a loud clearing of the throat behind them alerted them to Dalton's presence in the gallery. "I'm the nearest thing to a doctor on this tub," he said gruffly, "so if you will excuse me a moment, gentleman, I'd like to check her wounds, and make sure she doesn't get an infection." "Of course, Mr. Randolph. We have plenty of work to do anyway. Come on, lads, let's give the girl a bit of peace," Cormac said, as he bent forward to kiss his sister on the cheek. "Mammy and Da said to tell you they're proud of you, and Ultan and Peadar would be here as well, only they're stuck on watch. I'll

see you soon, Emer." The other men all kissed Emer on the cheek as well, and Dalton grew more and more irritated as Joe seemed to linger. He looked up at the tall dark man, and saw the glow in the golden eyes. "I um, I'll leave you to him then, shall I?" Joe asked in Irish, and felt a stabbing pang of jealousy when Emer nodded. "Thanks Joe, I'll see you later," she mumbled as if in a trance. She turned her aqua eyes to Dalton, the naked hunger in her eyes betraying her feelings for him. Joe shuffled out of the room, despair crushing his heart, but then he shrugged. He loved Emer, and wanted her to be happy. If Dalton Randolph could make her happy, who was he to interfere? "Emer, my dearest girl, Patrick Bradley just told me everything. You should have told the truth and spared yourself all this. And I swear to you, I had no idea about what the captain had planned. I would have tried to stop it if I had known," Dalton said softly as he stroked her aching back with another cooling cream. He wiped his hands on a cloth before brushing her hair out of her eyes, and carefully tying it back in its leather thong. "It wasn't your place to interfere as a simple passenger. I'm afraid you might have ruined your relationship with the captain now, contradicting him like that in public," Emer sighed, enjoying the feel of his fingers on her tender flesh. Dalton had been very disturbed by what the first mate Patrick Bradley had told him of Emer's state of mind, and her conviction that he also blamed her for her brother in law's death. As he rubbed on the cream, he said carefully, "I haven't seen you very much recently, what with the storm and fire, and looking after the children. I thought that rather than suffocate you with concern, I would leave you to cope with Tomas' death in your own way. I wanted to comfort you that night when you came into the mess, but Mrs. Jenkins' got to you before I did, and then Joe after that. "I've missed our little chats together, Emer. I don't want you to think I've been angry with you, or unfeeling regarding your plight. But it seems like Joe is always with you, and we can never be

alone together," Dalton murmured, as he stroked Emer's cheek. Emer's eyes widened and she managed to turn on her side, clutching the sheet to her bosom. "Then you aren't disappointed in me? You don't think I was to blame for the fire, and well, you know..." Dalton took her hand and kissed it. "How could I be disappointed in you, when you saved the ship single-handedly,and tried to go aloft to save Tomas? I'm proud of you, Emer, damned proud. I can't think of anything that you could possibly ever do which would make me change my mind about that. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you when you needed me. I thought you had Joe and the rest of your family to support you." "They've tried, but I've missed you as well, Dalton." Emer admitted shyly. "Plus, my duties on the ship, and then looking after the others doesn't leave me much time. And I thought you were being well, a bit cool because you were angry with me, but that's all cleared up now, isn't it?" She smiled softly. He sighed heavily. "I'm sorry I'm such a moody brute, Emer. I want to be with you. But as you say, there are vast numbers of people all requiring your attention, and I feel like I just don't fit in with your life," Dalton said carefully, trying to be honest with her about his feelings without openly declaring his infatuation with her. Emer raised her hand to stroke his silky dark hair softly. "Then I will just have to set aside some special time for you, friend. What about last thing at night in your cabin? A game of draughts and perhaps, well, a brandy?" she proposed with a blush. Dalton leaned over to kiss her lightly on the lips. "It's a deal, friend. Thank you, my dear," Dalton breathed as he nuzzled Emer's cheek. "I'll look forward to our nights together eagerly. Now you get some rest, and as soon as you're feeling better, I'll expect you to keep that promise." Emer gazed after Dalton longingly as he kissed her once more and left her alone to get dressed, and shook her head at the double meaning of his words. I want him, she concluded with a sigh. It may be wrong, and it may all end in tears, but I love Dalton Randolph, Emer sighed, as she stiffly pulled on a clean shirt, and resumed her duties aboard the Pegasus as best she could considering her back felt as though it were on fire.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE Emer's back was stiff and sore for several days after her undeserved flogging, but Dalton rubbed the cream in for her morning and night. Though Emer was worried about her own family and their well-being, she was oddly happy with the pattern of her life aboard ship. She worked tirelessly cooking and cleaning, washing and helping the fever patients down in the hold and the children confined with the mumps. Apart from her nieces and nephews, another ten children had come down with the illness by the end of their third week at sea, but fortunately no adult cases had as of yet appeared. Her sister Cara volunteered to help with some of the nursing work above, and since she seemed the healthiest of all her sisters down below, and had had the disease in the past. Emer accepted her help. Dalton, Cathan, and Cara nursed them in the spare cabin, and Emer would go around to relieve one or the other of them whenever she had a chance. Gradually she noticed that Cathan and Cara always left her alone with Dalton, and as she bathed the children's feverish foreheads, Emer would find herself bumping up against him, or notice him staring at her from across the room like a cat stalking its prey. "What's the matter, have I got something on my face?" Emer asked once, as she tried to feed a child some ship's biscuit with a smear of honey spread on it to make it a bit more palatable. "You do now." Dalton smiled down at her, and suddenly stooped to lick her cheek, before moving his mouth over to cover hers. A tap at the door caused them to spring guiltily apart. Mrs. Jenkins came in to see the sick patients, so Emer used her entrance as an opportunity to escape from the claustrophobic presence of the enigmatic Dalton Randolph. Emer could sense his attraction for her almost as though he had spoken his feelings aloud. Yet always there was a distance between them which Emer was grateful for on the one hand, but uncertain of how to broach should she so choose. All she knew was that Dalton's kisses were completely intoxicating. Though they started out light-hearted enough, and were often no more than a peck on the cheek as she came and went from the sick room, in the evenings, over a snifter of brandy, their passion for

each other was rising closer and closer to the surface. Emer kept telling herself she ought to avoid him, for to love a man like Dalton Randolph was to risk her very soul, but one pleading glance from his golden eyes and she melted in his arms. "He doesn't trust me," Emer decided one Saturday morning as the ship completed its third week at sea, when she tried to puzzle out his strange attitude towards her. Dalton once again began to blow hot and cold, greeting her sullenly as she entered his cabin to do the cleaning away, and laying the last of his mended garments in the drawer. He's afraid of his own feelings, but frightened of my reaction even beyond his fear of losing control, she determined as he watch her in wary silence. Emer knew she would never allow herself to make the first move, but she reflected that it couldn't do much harm to be less skittish in front of him. Though Emer was frightened of her own emotions too, she was fairly certain that she could trust Dalton to be truthful with her, and not deliberately hurt her feelings if it could possibly be avoided. Once they arrived in Quebec, they would go their separate ways, and she would be all alone, with only memories of him to treasure. But she felt sure that they had found something special with each other. Wasn't that enough to make it worthwhile for them to see where it all led? Moverover, Dalton was in almost every respect the kind of man she'd always dreamt she would meet and fall in love with one day. If she had the chance to snatch a few hours of happiness with him, where was the harm? The next day being Sunday, exactly four weeks after they had set sail from Dublin, Emer determined to attire herself in her Sunday best and spend a special day with Dalton. The day was to be special, but for many grim reasons, and would be one she would long remember for its turmoil and sorrow. Emer's plans for a romantic day with Dalton started out well. At first he seemed distant, as he usually did in the mornings despite their friendly evenings together. But the sight of Emer in her blue gown at the breakfast table caused his thoughts to turn to scenes of domestic bliss, with Emer

always by his side to pour his coffee and serve his eggs just the way he liked them. His golden eyes glowed at her across the table, and she smiled back warmly. Suddenly the ship heeled sharply to starboard, and Captain Jenkins threw down his napkin with a growl. "Damn and blast! Another storm! Mr. Bradley, all hands please! You too, Miss Nugent, only please take off the petticoats before you climb the rigging, or we really will have a bad accident this time!" he snorted as he stamped about the cabin gathering his things. Patrick Bradley gulped down the last of his coffee, while Mr. Pertwee grabbed two pieces of toast, and ran out onto the deck. Emer hurried to her cabin, where she doffed her gown and petticoats with a crushing sense of disappointment that her plans for a special day had been spoiled. She yanked back on her shirt and duck trousers as fast as the rocking ship would allow. All the fires had to go out, and then she climbed aloft to help with furling most of the sails, coming back down the mast tired and soaked. Once she had changed her clothes again, she and Jim Beckett the steward had to climb below to hand out ships' biscuit, and get out a barrel of salt pork for the crews' meals. Below in steerage, many of the fever patients had worsened. Before the storm blew up into its full fury, she and the crew hurried to bury at sea the eight poor souls who had died the night before. It was heart-rending work, made worse by the fact that many other passengers in the hold were terrified of contracting the fever, and wouldn't lend a hand to aid the sick, let alone take the corpses up onto the deck. In the end Charlie and Fred had to bring boat hooks down, and haul the corpses up the ladder that way. Once on deck, the captain said a few quick prayers, and once the bodies were wrapped in a bit of old sail with something to weigh them down, they disappeared over the side. Emer sighed and went back down to see her father, who was wading up to his ankles at the back of the ship in the most unmentionable filth.

"Here father, let me help you," Emer sighed. "I think you'd better look at Nuala. She's complaining again, and says she's passing blood." "It's not the flux, is it?" "No, I think it's the baby." He sounded as though he had aged twenty years in the course of the month. "All right, Father. You know she's not speaking to me, but I will try." Emer made her way to the front of the ship again, and went to Nuala's bunk. The woman let a cry out of her which rivalled the howling wind as she was tossed from side to side in the bunk, and begged for Martin. "He's on watch at the minute. Try to stay calm until he gets here," Emer said as she pressed a cool cloth to her face. "I can't. I can feel it coming, oh God, I'm losing the baby," Nuala began to weep. "I fell down the ladder this morning, and I've been in such pain ever since." "I think I'd better get Mr. Randolph here. He has some medical experience. He'll know what to do." "No, no, don't leave me, Emer!" Nuala begged. Another spasm of pain ripped through her. Emer looked around in despair. "Maeve, Roisin, I know you're sick, but this is an emergency. Go up to the deck amid ships, you know, where we did the dancing. Go through the door on the left, and find Mr. Randolph. Then stay with the children if no one else is there, and stop feeling so sorry for yourself!" Maeve began to cry, and then Emer noticed that Roisin looked bright red and was trembling. Emer sighed. "Never mind, I can see you're both sick. For Heaven's sake, girls, I told you to be careful! You look like you both have the fever!" Maeve's skin was ghastly yellow in the dim light which filtered through from the open hatch above, and she began to weep. "Where's Brona?"

"With Michael. He's got terrible stomach pains and fever also," Maeve revealed. "And Cara, where is she?" "She was up top, helping mother in the privies and at the wash tubs with some of the women who are really sick." "I can't leave Nuala like this! Roisin, you must go get Mr. Randolph, and hurry!" Roisin, though the least ill of the two, could manage a feeble stagger at best, but off she went as she had been instructed, while emer located the rags her mother had brought with them for their monthlies, and tried to pack Nuala's thighs to stem the flow of blood she spied as soon as she looked under the poor woman's skirts. When Dalton finally did come down into the hold about half an hour later, he carried the prone Roisin in his arms, and laid her out on an empty bunk. He scolded Emer roundly. "She delivered your message and promptly collapsed. You should never have sent her! She could have given the children the fever on top of their mumps." "I had no choice! Look at her, she's about to miscarry! What was I supposed to do, abandon her?" "I'm sorry, sush, it's all right, I'm here now," Dalton hugged her to him briefly, kissing the top of her head as he moved to her side to look at Nuala. "What happened to her?" "She fell down the ladder this morning. I don't know how far she fell. She's been in agony ever since. " "I've brought some medicines, but I fear nature will take its course in these matters," Dalton sighed, after quickly examining the suffering woman. Together they forced some medicine down her throat as Nuala thrashed about on the bed, but nothing seemed to alleviate her plight. Finally, mercifully, Nuala let a huge scream out of her and fell unconscious. "Is it all over?" Emer asked numbly as she lifted the sheet covering Nuala's legs and looked at the dreadful mess in the bunk.

He nodded quietly, and then turned away, shaken to the core. "I, I can't do it, Emer, I'm sorry," Dalton muttered through clenched teeth. Emer hugged him around the waist with one arm as she led him away gently, and said, "If you'd be kind enough to look at Roisin and Maeve whilst you're here, I would be very grateful. Maeve is here." She led him into the second set of curtains at the forepeak, and when she was certain Dalton couldn't see, she bundled up the bloody mess in the sheet, and tried to stanch the flow of blood still oozing from the unconscious woman. Emer clutched the bundle to her chest tightly as she ran up to the rail and threw it overboard, saying a prayer as she did so, but was unable to pause in her grief, for Dalton shouted her name urgently. She ran back down the ladder again at lightning speed. "What is it?" she asked in alarm. "She's still bleeding badly. Give me some more sheets, and we'll pack her with them," he said more calmly, his voice becoming steadier and his colouring more healthy. "Here, take these," Emer said, pressing the last of their linen into his hands. "I'm sorry I let you down a minute ago," Dalton muttered as he laboured manfully, trying to save Nuala's life. "No, you were right. It was my office as a member of the family and a woman, Dalton. You have nothing to reproach yourself for." "Some doctor I would have made," Dalton remarked bitterly, while he packed the junction between Nuala's thighs with the wadding. "An excellent one, if the progress of the children and the fever patients you've been dosing with your medicine is anything to judge by." She put her arm around his neck and kissed him softly on the cheek. His pained eyes met hers for a lingering moment, until he pulled the sheet away to see if his efforts had been successful. But they were so soaked that they dripped as he pulled them away to try to replace them with a petticoat emer had found. He stepped away from the bunk with a shake of his head and said, "I have to find Martin. She's going fast."

"Dalton, your hands! You can't go to him like that!" Dalton looked down numbly, then stepped over and stooped to scrub in the bucket under the stairs, but he could hardly manage, his hands were shaking so badly. "Here, let me," Emer offered gently. She grasped the bar of soap, and lathered her own hands before lathering his. Then she dunked them all into the water. Dalton sighed, "I'm letting you down again." "Never, Dalton. You could never let me down. Stop being so hard on yourself." She stretched up and kissed him on the lips, and he finally let go of her hands, which he had been clutching tightly ever since she had helped him wash them. "I must go. I'll be back," Dalton promised. He ran up to the ladder to find Martin, while Emer returned to the bunk and sat with Nuala, holding her hand gently as the life ebbed out of her. Ailis, waking up from her sound sleep, looked over at her sister's bunk in horror and shouted, "Don't you touch her! Get away! You let Tomas die! Now you're killing my sister too!" Ailis slapped and pummelled Emer with all her might, until Martin entered the curtained off area and dragged Ailis off of his sister. When she refused to calm herself, he slapped her face. She collapsed like a rag doll and began to weep. "Stop it! Stop it! Emer was only trying to help. You have no cause to treat her like that except you've always been jealous of her." "She's letting Nuala die! Look at the blood! She's a murderess." Martin pushed the raving woman aside as he bent to take his wife's hand. He stayed with her, talking to her softly, stroking the hair back from her cheek, until she breathed her last. Emer, covered in blood, her cheek bruised and her eye blackened after Ailis' frenzied attack, stood by her brother's side for a time.

Dalton, beside himself with fury at the futility and unfairness of it all, now rounded on the other woman and berated her. "Emer did everything she could to help Nuala, just as she tried to go aloft to save Tomas. He fell before she could reach him. You have no right to treat her like this when she does nothing but devote herself to looking after your entire family." "You say that, Mr. Randolph, because you've been bewitched by her, just like all the other men on this ship. I've seen the way you look at her, like you can't bear to let her out of your sight. Like you want to strip her naked and...." Emer's head shot up. "That's enough, Ailis!" she warned, her eyes glittering dangerously. "Mr. Randolph doesn't have to listen to your scurrilous attack, not after trying to save your sister's life. "I'm sorry you hate me so much, after all I've done for you and the children, but you have no call to take it out on him, especially when he has helped your girls Ailbhe and Blinne! Now lie down in your bunk, or go to the privy, but don't ever speak to me or ask for my help again, do you hear!" Emer bent to kiss Nuala's rapidly cooling brow, and pointedly ignoring Dalton's shocked expression over what Ailis had just said, she turned and fled.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR Emer took refuge from the horror she had just witnessed in the hold by heading to the empty crews' galley. Her sister in law Nuala was dead, and Dalton now thought she was some sort of strumpet looking for his attentions thanks to Ailis' bitter words. How could she ever look him in the face again? She washed her hands and face in a basin, and then forced herself to concentrate on her chores in an effort to block out all she had seen and heard that day. She moved to open the barrel of salt pork for the crew's rations, struggling with the large wax-sealed cask until at last she got the top open. She rinsed the salt from the meat using a colander, before putting it into a saucepan to heat, then onto the plates. Cathan came in wordlessly to help her serve up, and she forced herself to go through the motions for a time until everyone had been served. She was numb with cold, and could feel herself trembling. She prayed fervently that she wasn't coming down with any of the dreaded diseases which lurked down in the hold. Emer looked at the bottom of the pork barrel, where the last few pieces of remained. She rinsed them quickly, but didn't bother to heat them for herself. Then she went to her bunk to change her bloody clothes. There she scrubbed herself from head to toe with a wash rag and the tepid water from her basin, and dried herself. Once she was decently clad again, she went in to see the children, and sat down with a sigh. It was peaceful in the children's room, and she curled up on the large bunk with her nieces and nephews, and some of the other children bedding down on the makeshift hospital, and began to read to all of them. Some of the children from the ship couldn't read at all despite their age, so she gave all of them a lesson in the alphabet with some slates and pieces of chalk she had brought with her to keep the family's children entertained on the long voyage. Dalton entered the cabin silently, and watched Emer's lovely face as she smiled at the children's progress, or laughed good-naturedly at their mistakes, though she could see from her eyes that inwardly, she was grieving for Nuala, and deepy upset by the tense state of affairs with Ailis. Emer's sharp-tongued sister-in-law had been at least partly right

in her wild accusations, for Dalton throbbed to possess the fiery beauty with hair like living flame despite all his attempts to deny his passionate inner longings. Dalton's moody behaviour towards her recently had been a result of too much drink, not enough sleep, and an agony of mental indecision, made worse by this own feelings of unworthiness and futility in the face of the crisis aboard the ship. The children's mumps had been easy, but he knew Emer did the worst nursing jobs on the Pegasus without quailing or complaining. She had even coped with Nuala's crisis without breaking down. He had been weak, pathetic.... "I have no right to want her. She is far too good for me, though my father would laugh his head off if he heard me say so," Dalton muttered. "Dalton! I didn't know you were there!" Emer gasped as she looked up and saw him standing in the doorway looking like a grim spectre. "I just came, to see if you were all right, and to take my turn with the children. Any sign of Cathan or Cara?" "Cathan is doing the meal duty for the crew. Cara was here a moment ago. I relieved her." "I just came to tell you that we're going to have to make more room in here. There are four more cases down below." She nodded. "Take our ones out, then. They can sleep with me and Cathan." "But you need your rest, and they can get into all sorts of mischief up here," Dalton argued, disliking the idea of their peaceful little nest in the gallery being intruded upon, even while he knew he was being selfish. "Well, we can't put then down in the hold and expose them to fever! I won't do it, Dalton, not after what just happened down there." "No, of course not," Dalton sighed. "But you must get your rest, and your bed isn't big enough for the girls to sleep in with you." "I know. Cathan's bunk is bigger than mine. If we empty out some of the drawers, they can sleep in them, and then that way we won't have to worry about them falling and hurting themselves." "I'll come and help you," Dalton offered. "No, you'd better go get the other four children, and I'll gather up these ones and move them out," Emer said as she put the things away the children had been playing with, and stood up from the bed.

He stood there staring for a time, long enough for her to say, "Is there something the matter, Dalton? Are you still upset about what happened with Nuala?" "No, not really. We did all we could. Why do you ask?" "I, well, I just never seem to know where I am with you, Dalton. One minute you're happy, laughing, and well, hugging and kissing me, and the next moment you treat me like a leper. I don't understand what you want from me." Dalton's bland facade crumbled when he saw the tears glittering in her aquamarine eyes. "God, if only you knew Emer, you'd run a mile!" Dalton rasped. His arms flashed around her and held her tightly to him, while his mouth swooped down over hers, taking her breath away. He backed her up against the partition behind the door, and leaned his body into hers, so that she now had no doubt of his needs. "Dalton!" Emer gasped, more in surprise than shock, and concerned at the children being present. Dalton, filled with guilt, and convinced she was about to reject him, pushed himself away, and then tugged down the tails of her shirt, which he had lifted in the course of his passionate embrace. Before they could say another word, they both heard giggles coming from the other side of the door, and Cara popped her head around to look in. "It's all right, there's no one here at the minute except the children," Cara tittered. Dalton and Emer stood rooted to the spot as Reamann followed Emer's golden-haired sister into the room and proceeded to kiss her passionately as his fingers worked to undo the small row of buttons at the front of her gown. Emer blushed as her eye caught Dalton's and she saw his face close up. She stepped forward, and accused, "So that's why you were so keen to volunteer to come up here and nurse the children!" Her sister jumped a foot. "Emer! I didn't see you there!" "How long have you and Reamann had an, er, understanding?" Emer demanded. "Now hold on a minute, this is just a bit of fun. I don't want to marry her or anything," Reamann replied hotly.

Both women's faces went white, Cara's with shock and mortification, Emer's with wrathful indignation. "You've been trifling with her in front of your own nieces and nephews when she's been meant to be looking after these sick children, and now have the nerve to say that to me!" Emer stormed, her fists clenching and unclenching in fury. Reamann smirked. "If you're so innocent, Emer, then tell me what you've been doing spending so much time with Joe all these weeks, or this man here for that matter! Just what were you two doing hiding behind the door, if you don't mind my asking!" Emer's eyes widened in astonishment. Dalton's teeth ground together audibly. But before either of them could reply to Remann's accusations, the young man added more gently, "No harm's been done, Emer. I swear. It's just been a little kiss and cuddle, nothing more. Cara's a nice girl, but marry her? I'm too young, with no job or prospects. I'm sorry, all of you. I swear it won't happen again." Reamann sauntered out the door without a backward glance. Cara burst into tears the moment he left, leaving all the children even more wide-eyed. Emer dragged her out into the saloon and tried to calm her. Cara wailed tearfully, "It's all you fault! He's always loved you. I'm only second best, even though you don't care a fig for him, and I would do anything for him!" "Oh, Cara, please don't cry. He's young and foolish. He doesn't mean half of what he says. I'm sorry you're so unhappy, pet, but perhaps it's best you know what he's like now, before you get in over your head and end up getting hurt," Emer soothed, rubbing her sister's back. "I know what he's like, but I don't care. I still want him," Cara sniffed. Then she turned to Dalton, who had stepped out of the room and closed the door, leaving the children in the care of the eldest of the emigrants for a moment. "I'm sorry Mr. Randolph, I've let you all down. I'll go back down to the hold now, and look after the sick down there from now on." On a choked sob, the girl fled. Dalton and Emer stood silently for a few moment, not daring to look at each other. "I, well, I'm sorry about what they both said, Mr. Randolph, and

about yet another little scene on the part of my family that you've been forced to witness." "No, perhaps Reamann is right. They are both young, and can't possibly know the difference between true love and a stirring of the loins. You and I are older and wiser, aren't we, Emer? We can be trusted to choose partners suited to ourselves in every respect. "I'm sorry things haven't worked out with Garvan, your fiance, but Joe is a worthy young man," Dalton said, tight-lipped, and stalked out of the cabin, leaving her staring after him. Stunned, she went back into the children's sick room and sat on the bed dazed at all that had just happened. Then she gathered her nieces and nephews and their things together with a sigh. She couldn't believe all that Reamann had said. Worse still, that Dalton seriously thought there was something between herself and Joe. Then she sighed. To be accused of being romantically involved with Emer not once but twice in the space of an hour must have given him pause, and cause him to re-think their relationship. A man in his position wouldn't want any gossip aboard the ship to get out of hand, for either his own reputation or hers. Back to the grim stares and cold shoulder, Emer sighed, as she passed Dalton in the corridor, his arms full of two sick children he had brought up from the hold. "Do you want me to help bathe them?" Emer offered quietly. "No, find Cathan and send him to me, and if you could bring some broth?" Emer shook her head. "The storm is still raging. There are no fires allowed until it dies down." "All tempests blow themselves out eventually," Dalton remarked cryptically. He pushed past Emer abruptly, not even looking at her, and headed to the room to tend the children, while she moved her family into Cathan's quarters, and ached deep within as though her heart would break.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE Emer spent the rest of that stormy Sunday in a well of misery, with Dalton not speaking to her, and her family all either angry with her or ill. The ship tossed to and fro like a wild animal on the rampage, and became progressively damper and colder as the rains teemed down, but they could not light any fire to lend comfort to the cheerless vessel. The hold passengers became more and more ill, and Maeve and Roisin began to decline rapidly. Even worse, many of the first fever patients, who had got out of bed and shown signs of being on the mend, had all suffered serious relapses, including Brona's beau Michael Molloy. Brona was beside herself with despair, and Emer forced her to lie down in her bunk for a while to rest while she took over Michael's nursing. Looking over at her mother, Emer saw Breda trembling with cold. Pushing the cool cloth into her father's hand for a moment to tend to Michael, she sat down next to her mother and demanded, "What is it? What's wrong?" "I think I have the fever, but I'm not sure. I feel hot, but there's this terrible stabbing pain in my side, over here on my right. Perhaps it's just a female complaint." Breda shrugged. "How long have you had it?" Emer asked. "Since early yesterday, I think. Oh, God, it's so sore!" Breda gasped, as the ship rolled. She clutched her side as beads of sweat poured off her forehead, and she collapsed on the bed. Emer rose hurriedly to get her father. Just then Dalton materialized before her. "Dalton, thank God! It's my mother! She has fever, but her right side only is paining her," Emer cried as she hung onto his arm. Dalton stooped to kiss Emer, but suddenly straightened as if recollecting the strained state of affairs between them, and walked over to the bunk, leaving Emer behind near the stairs. He examined her quickly, and knew from the tender flesh that it was the appendix. He also knew with a bleak sense of dread that judging from Breda's condition, it had most likely ruptured. "Damn it, if only she had complained sooner," he grumbled to himself.

But an honest voice inside his head told him it would have made no difference. He wasn't a fully qualified surgeon, and even if he were, how could he have operated on her in the middle of the raging Atlantic? "What is it? Will she be all right?" Emer asked breathlessly, turning her face up to his so that all he would have had to do was tilt his head slightly to kiss her. Dalton stiffened and step back from her in the tight space, and declared, "I'm sorry, Emer. She has a massive infection inside her. I can give her something for the pain, and more besides if you want. But otherwise there's nothing I can do. She's just going to lay there suffering until the poison inside of her eventually takes her life." She stared up at him, horrified. "No, you can't! I can't let you do that, Dalton! How can you even suggest such a thing?" He reached out to stroke her cheek, but Emer slapped his hand away violently. "Don't touch me! You want me to allow you to kill my own mother!" she hissed, shock and dismay etched on her lovely features. Dalton grabbed her by the shoulders. "Believe me, Emer, if there was anything I could do, I would do it gladly! I would try to operate if it were possible, but it would kill her and spread contagion all over the ship! Now, do you want me to tell your father, or will you? You can see she's going out of her mind with suffering, and it's only going to get worse." "No, it can't be true-" "I'm sorry, Emer, if there were any other way, I would do it." Emer looked at her mother, grey with pain as she rolled from side to side on the bunk, and chewed her lower lip until it bled. She watched her writhe in pain, clung on as the ship rolled again, and then made the only decision she could. "I'll get Father. But you will say nothing of what you just said to me, nothing, do you understand?" "Yes, I understand. I do know something about the Catholic sense of sin. But it would be more of a sin to let the appendicitis take its course." She nodded curtly, then took a deep breath to steady herself. "Let him have a few minutes alone with her to say goodbye, and then just give her the medicine, and may God forgive us both." She crossed herself, then stepped away from him to find her father. "Emer, I'm truly sorry. If there were any other way, I would do it

in a minute...." Dalton murmured, holding out his hand to take hers. She pulled away from him. "It's not your fault she's sick. I know you're only trying to help." Dalton struggled to find the right words. "No, that's not all. I mean I'm sorry about all the rest as well." Emer only understood rejection as he avoided looking directly at her. He's sorry for kissing me, sorry for being friends with me, she concluded with a pang. She stiffened, but refused to let him see how much she was hurting. "Think nothing of it. It makes no difference to me. I'm just the cabin boy, Mr. Randolph, remember?" With her head held high, Emer marched to the back of the ship to get her father. After kissing her mother goodbye on the forehead, she fled the stinking hold, and went to be alone with the sick children. She broke the news gently to Cathan and relieved him from his nursing duties as he ran below to bid his mother a tearful farewell. Emer sat huddled in the darkening cabin without bothering to fetch a lantern as she tried to come to terms with the sudden loss of her mother. As she lay on the bunk listening to the noises that surrounded her, the surge of the ocean, the howling of the wind, she began to grow calmer, and more accepting of her mother's fate. Perhaps it is for the best that she went that way, instead of from one of those horrible fevers. And God only knew what sort of suffering lay in store for them all on the other side of the Atlantic in Canada. The storm began to abate, and with it her tears, but oddly, Emer still felt terribly queasy, though normally she never suffered from seasickness. Her head began to throb, and she had a violent urge to relieve herself. She used the chamber pot, and started to feel a bit better. Emer washed her hands thoroughly and drank some water, then lay back down for a moment longer. When she was certain it was safe, Emer went into the galleys and lit the fires to start cooking the dinners, and put on a huge vat of pork and beans for the men, and a saddle of mutton for the captain's table. Emer dragged her way through the rest of her evening chores in a haze as her back ached, her mouth went dry, and she began to shiver.

Pure stubborn pride and a reluctance to make a fool of herself by relying upon Dalton when he obviously didn't care about her prevented Emer from going to bed, or consulting Dalton about her symptoms. At about nine, just as she was getting into bed, she began to feel as though her stomach were on fire, and her bowels loosened so quickly she had just enough time to get to her chamberpot. Then she began to wretch violently, and was alarmed to see in the watery lantern light that her bodily fluids were all bright green. "Good God!" she muttered. She had never seen anything like it in her life, despite all she had seen of the fevers down below. She forced herself to drink some water before laying back down in the bunk. "I'm not going to go to him. He doesn't care about me. He told me so himself," she groaned as her head hit the pillow, and darkness finally claimed her.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX Two hours later, Dalton climbed up from the hold and headed for his cabin, bone tired and heartsore at the deaths of Breda and several of the fever patients he had been so sure were going to get well. He stripped off his filthy clothes and threw them out the porthole, despairing of ever getting them clean, and not wishing for Emer to waste her time scrubbing them or running the risk of catching something from them. He noticed that his cabin was empty and looked as though it was untouched since morning. There was no welcoming lantern lit for him, and no sign of the chessboard or the snifter of brandy which were the usual tokens of her presence. She must be very upset and angry about her mother, and the way I've treated her, Dalton guessed. Though he was certain he had made the right decision so far as not getting any further involved with her, as he looked around the cheerless room and stared at the empty chair she usually occupied, he found himself missing Emer more than he could bear. But Emer rejected me when I tried to comfort her today. I must be wrong about what she feels for me. Reamann said she and Joe were close, though when I had asked her about that in the past, she denied it, Dalton reflected, confused. He was just about to pick up his nightshirt when he paused. "No, I shouldn't, it's not proper at this hour," he muttered, but all the same, he turned to his dresser and pulled out a clean pair of trousers and shirt, and donned them quickly instead. Not bothering with shoes or a waistcoat, he padded out into the gallery, and tapped softly at Emer's cabin door. "Emer are you awake? I need to speak to you," Dalton called softly. Getting no response, he was about to turn away when he noticed an odd smell. His concern grew at the unearthly silence in the cabin, and he rapped more loudly. "Emer, look, I know it's late, but if you can hear me, open the door!" When he got no reply, he slid open the door quickly, and his eyes widened in alarm as he saw her laying there deathly pale and noted the green contents of the chamberpot. Dalton called for Cathan across the gallery as he mopped Emer's face with a cool cloth. "What did you have to eat today down below?"

"Pork, salted, and then cooked with beans," Cathan replied sleepily. "Why?" "Nothing, just fetch me some water and a cup of coffee if there's any left in the pot, and then go back to sleep," Dalton said quietly as he held the basin for Emer while she opened her eyes blearily and was violently sick again. "What's wrong with Emer?" Cathan asked, wide-eyed. "Nothing serious, just a bad case of food poisoning. Go on, get those things for me, son, and leave your sister to me," Dalton instructed gently. Cathan nodded, and Dalton sat down to make himself comfortable for a long night of nursing. Emer suffered a great deal from the food poisoning, but despite her brave protests that she didn't need or want his help, Dalton stuck by her, performing all the nursing duties she required without complaint. She was deeply embarrassed by his attentions in the confined quarters, but with the rest of her family ill or busy, there was no one else to help, even were Dalton willing to leave her in peace. When she wasn't being ill or using the chamberpot, Emer lay exhaustedly on the bunk, her head heavy, her eyelids drooping. The few times she was conscious, Dalton would read to her until he was certain she was sleeping peacefully again. Then he would tell Cathan to keep an eye on her while he went below to check on the progress of the fever patients, whom Mrs. Jenkins was nursing bravely though they had little medicine or any ideas on how to effectively combat the various diseases. Finally on the fourth morning, Emer could open her eyes without her head swimming, and saw Dalton, unshaven and with his clothes and hair dishevelled, sitting by her bedside. "Have I caught the fever?" Emer rasped, her throat raw from having been sick so frequently. He shook his head. "I was terrified that you did at first, but I've seen green vomit and flux before. I went down to the galley and found the remains of the salt pork barrel. You must have got the last pieces, and they were pretty rotten." "They sure were! I should never have eaten them, but I thought they were meant to taste like that. Have any of the others become ill?" "No, they were all fine, though I hate to say that there have been quite a few more deaths since you were last conscious, including some of the crew."

"My sisters? The boys?" Emer asked in alarm. He shook his head. "No, none of them have died, but they aren't well either. You know about your sisters, but Cormac and Martin had the yellow form of the fever the last time I saw them." "My mother. Have they buried her yet?" she asked quietly. He nodded. "They have. If it's any consolation to you, she took the medicine and went to sleep, and never felt a thing after that," Dalton reassured her, brushing her matted hair back from her forehead. "She was a good woman, the best. I couldn't bear to see her suffer." "I know. I'm sorry. It isn't the sort of death you would wish on anyone. We did the right thing." She swallowed hard, and nodded. "How did Da take it?" "He's trying to be strong, Emer, but it's very hard for him losing her like that. We will all just have to be patient with him, and keep any eye out to make sure he looks after himself properly." "And Ailis? Any sign of the baby?" He shook his head. "Not a sign, though to hear her, you'd think she was the only woman in the world to ever have one, and her with the two girls already." Emer chuckled weakly, and then admitted, "I'm worried, though, Dalton. This voyage its rapidly becoming a nightmare. The mumps, the fevers, the flux, Nuala and Ailis's pregnancies, and now Cormac and Martin being ill. And it's not just because they're my brothers that I'm afraid. With the crew coming down ill like this, it's the thin end of the wedge. The sickness must be all over the ship by now, and we're going to be even more short-handed so far as properly trained crew are concerned." Dalton nodded. "Aye, Captain Jenkins has changed from six watches to four on board. But he has at least told Jim Beckett to recalculate the rations below to account for the thirty deaths we've had so far, so those still alive do have a better chance of survival. Your friend Joe is on full rations now, and is filling out nicely from the poor stick he was when you found him in the cargo hold. "Oh, and your father has also got them redistributing clothes and such like for anyone who died who had anything to spare, so the worst off have something to take with them to the New World, poor devils." "I must get up. There's so much that needs doing," Emer croaked, but after a brief struggle to sit up, she fell back on the pillow after a moment. Dalton put his hand on one shoulder and insisted, "You're not well enough yet. Everything possible is being done for them. You need to lie still and wait for the poisons to work their way out of you body. You'll be up and about in another two or three days, but you must rest, Emer, and drink lots of fresh

water. Otherwise, you really will end up getting one of the fevers, and then you'll be beyond helping anyone." Emer nodded, too weak and exhausted to argue further. "All right, I will try, Dalton, but you will tell me if anything happens to my family, won't you?" "I will, but you must prepare yourself for the worst, Emer. The Lynches have been stricken as well. I must go down now to see if I can help, but only if you promise me you'll drink this brandy and rest." "First, could you let me have some water and a cloth so I can get this foul taste out of my mouth," Emer requested wearily. Dalton helped her sit up. She pulled the thin sheet up around her, but not before Dalton saw her naked breasts and blushed. "I'm sorry, to embarrass you, Emer. I'm not sure how much you remember of the past few days. You've been unconscious for most of the time, or looked as though you didn't know who I was. I've been nursing you for the past three days ever since you got taken ill. I, um, well, you know, there wasn't anyone else, and I couldn't leave you like that," Dalton apologised. Emer finished rinsing her mouth and spat into the basin, and then took a hefty swig of the brandy Dalton held out for her. "Put the chamberpot down, Dalton, and come here and sit by me for a moment," Emer asked quietly, patting the bed beside her. Dalton hesitated for a moment, and then did as he was told. He emptied the chamberpot out of the porthole. After washing his hands in the basin, he sat down beside Emer on the narrow bunk. "This is for taking care of Nuala, my mother, and me and the children, and for being gracious enough to apologise for embarrassing me, even though I don't feel the least bit ashamed in front of you," Emer said quietly. Stretching up to reach his mouth, she kissed Dalton on the cheek with all the ardour her weakened body could muster. It was more than enough for Dalton, who moved his mouth to her lips, then groaned as his tongue twined sinuously with hers in the cavern of her mouth. His hand slid under the sheet to cup one of her rounded breasts. Then he pulled away abruptly and turned his back to her as he ran his fingers through his hair and gave a ragged sigh. "I mustn't, Emer, it's not right, and I have to go," Dalton said quietly. "That's all right, I understand," Emer said in a small hurt voice. "I just wanted to thank you. To show you there were no bad feelings between us over my mother, or any of the other disagreements we seem to have continually, that's all. Go now. I promise I'll go to sleep." Emer smiled softly.

Dalton turned around to face her, and tucked the sheet up to her chin. "No, no hard feelings, my dear. Not between friends like us. But you're ill, and I don't wish to take advantage of your youth and vulnerability, can you understand?" Emer gazed up at him lovingly, and they both knew as they stared into each other's eyes for what seemed an eternity that they had crossed an invisible boundary somewhere on their journey together. They were both sure now that it was only a matter of time before they became lovers. To Dalton, being united with Emer felt as inevitable as the sun rising and setting in the sky. With a last quick kiss he slid the door shut behind him and headed for the hold whistling a happy tune. Emer stared at the closed door, listened to his footfalls fade away into the distance. But it was all right. He would be back soon. And when he was.... Then the love that was growing between them would finally be allowed to flower. Though the atmosphere on the ship was growing increasingly hellish, Emer was sure that her little piece of Heaven in Dalton's arms would be her true salvation.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN Emer convalesced from her food poisoning gradually, and was forced to endure Dalton's close scrutiny for another four days. It was the most inimate she had ever been with anyone in her life, and every passing moment brought them closer and closer to the time she was sure all the barriers between them would tumble away and they would become lovers at last. Now she knew what it was to be in love, not just in the physical sense, for Dalton certainly made her heart flutter every time he was near. No, it was more to do with their meeting of minds, of true respect as the foundation for their love, and above all, her longing to be worthy of him in every way. On a sunny Tuesday morning early in July, Dalton allowed her out of bed, and planned a special treat for her now that he was confident that Emer was fully recovered. Emer felt nearly back to normal, and had risen to prepare the breakfast and to go and see her family, who all seemed well except for Ailis, who refused to even look in her direction, and her father, who sat staring into space when he wasn't helping swab the decks. Dalton took Cathan into his confidence concerning his surprise for Emer, and arranged for some special treats Cathan said she liked to be taken out of his private stores and got ready. But his final way of pampering Emer was to arrange for Cathan to bring one of the laundry tubs into his stateroom in the evening, and fill it to the brim with fresh hot water and plenty of foamy suds. Cathan siphoned off the water from the full rain barrels, while Dalton went through his toiletries and found some clean-smelling lavender soap. Emer wondered what the two were putting their heads together about all day as she went back and forth from galley, to the hold, to the children's sick room. She got the surprise of her life after dinner when Cathan insisted that she go to Dalton's stateroom straight away, and he would take care of all the crews' dirty dishes, and the lamps as well. "You don't have to cosset me any more, you know. The wounds from the lashing have healed, and it was only a simple dose of food poisoning."

"I know, but Mr. Randolph is going to keep you pretty busy, I would guess. He said there was a serious matter of business to be attended to, and on no account should you be disturbed," Cathan said seriously, trying to stifle a grin. Emer's brows raised in wonder, but she took Cathan at his word. After untying her apron and tidying her hair, which she longed to scrub, as best she could, she knocked on Dalton's door. "My brother said you wanted to see me urgently?" Emer asked as he blocked her way into the room. He grinned broadly. "Yes, I do. Come in." As he removed himself from her line of vision, Emer saw the table was set with a cloth, sparkling porcelain dishes, and two crystal goblets with a bottle of champagne. "What's all this?" she gasped. "A special treat. Doctor's orders for his patient." "Really, I can't accept, it's too much," Emer said, backing away in embarrassment at the seemingly romantic gesture which she was certain Dalton hadn't really intended. "Don't be silly. When is the last time you ever accepted a gift from anyone? Where's the harm in me spoiling you, when you do so much for everyone here?" "Really, Dalton, I don't do all that much," Emer denied, blushing. "Besides, I can't accept. I seem to do nothing but take your help. I really shouldn't. You're the passenger, I'm only the cabin boy." "For once, let's forget the unhappy circumstances that have reduced you to your present state in the world. Please just allow yourself to accept this friendly gesture without any pangs of guilt." "But Dalton, really, I-" "Look." He pointed as he swung back the door to the watercloset which he had used to conceal the scalding tub brimming full of suds. "You wouldn't want to let all that lovely hot water go to waste, now would you?" Her eyes bulged, and despite herself, she smiled. "You shouldn't have gone to so much trouble, Dalton, really. I have chores, and besides, I

couldn't possible impose on you by using your room for a bath," Emer said, though the offer was indeed very tempting. "Nonsense, it's no imposition, I assure you. I'm certain you could use a good long soak, if only to get off the rest of that ointment from after your flogging. I seem to have done nothing but rub foul smelling concoctions on you since the moment I came aboard this ship five weeks ago. In addition to that, you seem to have done nothing but wallow in filth and kitchen grease. "So get in that tub before it goes cold, and I'll leave you alone if you like. Or, if you prefer a bit of company, I can read to you from my volume of Shakespeare, if you don't mind." "No, no not at all," Emer murmured, wondering at the change in Dalton. He seemed almost happy for the first time since she had met him. Emer was no fool. She had discovered by his insistence on her remaining, and his careful arrangements with Cathan, that Dalton had indeed planned this as a romantic interlude for the two of them. The question was, if she went along with his plan, would she regret it? And would he? Like Dalton on the night she had become ill, Emer had concluded that they had wasted enough time hiding their feelings for one another. If I didn't always have to be so damned civilised and sensible, I would have torn his clothes off and loved him till he begged for mercy, Emer admitted to herself, unwittingly echoing Dalton's own feeling upon the matter. At length she nodded, and then gestured for Dalton to turn his back. She stripped off hurriedly and slipped under the mountain of suds. Then Emer said, "All right, you can sit on the bunk now and read to me." "What play would you like? I can try to do some funny voices as well if that will please you," Dalton offered with a cheeky grin. "Are the sonnets in your book as well?" "No, but I do have a book of poems too," Dalton said as he rose briefly from the bunk and looked in one of the drawers. "Poetry?"

"There's no need to sound so stunned. I'm not a completely insensitive businessman, you know. I studied humanities at Oxford for a time before I ran off to London to do my medical studies, which alas, I never finished for family reasons. I've always loved literature, but poetry above all." "But English is such a rough language, especially compared to Irish," she teased, "let alone the continental languages." "People always believe that French or Italian are the most romantic of all the European languages, but we have some wonderful love poetry of our own as well, of which the Sonnets of Shakespeare are only a few," Dalton argued. "Pick something you like, then, so we can compare tastes," Emer replied as she scrubbed her feet and ankles with the sponge, feeling a warm flush flow though her body as she watched Dalton move around the cabin with such an air of wanting to be the perfect host for her. If she had had any doubts about his true feelings for her, his special surprise had put them to rest. Dalton riffled though a few more pages of the old leather-bound volume, then paused. "Ah, here's one of my favourites." He cleared his throat and then recited, "The passionate shepherd to his love,' by Christopher Marlowe. 'Come live with me and be my Love And we will all the pleasures prove That hills and valleys, dales and fields, Or woods or steepy mountain yields, And we will sit upon the rocks, And see the shepherds feed their flocks By shallow rivers, to whose falls Melodious birds sing madrigals, And I will make thee beds of roses And a thousand fragrant posies, A cap of flowers, and a kirtle

Embroider't all with leaves of myrtle, A gown made of the finest wool Which from our pretty lambs we pull, Fair lined slippers for the cold, With buckles of the purest gold, A belt of straw and ivy-buds With coral clasps and amber studs, And if these pleasures may thee move, Come live with me and be my Love. The shepherd swains shall dance and sing For thy delight each May morning: If these delights thy mind may move, Then live with me and be my Love.'" Dalton's golden eyes glowed at Emer as he read the poem with great enthusiasm, but she couldn't resist teasing him. "If that is one of your favourite poems, then I suppose you must also know 'The Nymph's Reply to the Shepherd' by Sir Walter Raleigh?" "I certainly do. Do you want me to read it?" "No, I think I can remember it. It goes something like this." "'If all the world and love were young, And truth in every shepherd's tongue These pretty pleasures might me move To live with thee and be thy Love. But Time drives flocks from field to fold, When rivers rage and rocks grow cold, And Philomel becometh dumb,

The rest complain of cares to come. The flowers to fade, and wanton fields To wayward winter reckoning yields: A honey tongue, a heart of gall, Is fancy's spring but sorrow's fall. Thy gown, thy shoes, thy beds of roses, Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten In folly ripe, in reason rotten! Thy belt of straw and ivy-buds, Thy coral clasps and amber studs, All these in me no means may move To come to thee and be thy Love. But could youth last, and love still heed, Had joys no date, nor age no need, Then these delights my mind might move To live with thee and be thy Love.'" "You're too young to be such a hopeless cynic, Emer," Dalton commented wryly, as he picked up a handful of suds and planted them firmly on the tip of her delicate nose. "I know, Dalton, I was just teasing. Let's have something more idealistic then, shall we? Can you find 'To Althea from Prison," by Richard Lovelace?" "A bit patriotic for a wild Irishwoman like you, isn't it? Hurrah for the king and all that?" Dalton opined as he flicked through the volume quickly to locate it. "It's still a lovely poem, and it's the way I would feel about Ireland if we had one strong leader to take control and guide us in our struggle for freedom. The names of the sides involved may have changed over the

centuries, but the desire for liberty is the whole reason why the United States was formed, and why so many people emigrated to the New World, famine or not." Dalton looked at her with undisguised admiration as she lathered her slender arms and shoulders, and then nodded. "I never thought of it like that before, but like so many other things in my life, I take my freedom for granted. Ah, here it is. Would you like me to read it aloud?" "If you don't mind." Dalton's rich sonorous tones sent thrilling vibrations up and down Emer's spine as he read, "When Love with unconfined wings Hovers within my gates, And my divine Althea brings To whisper at my grates: When I lie tangled in her hair And fettered to her eye, The Gods that wanton in the air Know no such liberty. When flowing cups run swiftly round With no allaying Thames, Our careless heads with roses crowned, Our hearts with loyal flames, When thirsty grief in wine we steep, When healths and draughts go freeFishes that tipple in the deep Know no such liberty.

When, like committed linnets, I With shriller throat shall sing The sweetness, mercy, majesty And glories of my King, When I shall voice aloud how good He is, how great should be, Enlarged winds that curl the flood, Know no such liberty Stone walls do not a prison make Nor iron bars a cage, Minds innocent and quiet take That for an hermitage If I have freedom in my love And in my soul am Free, Angels alone that soar above, Enjoy such liberty. Emer looked up at him and sighed. "You see, a lovely poem." "Yes, lovely." Dalton smiled lazily as he moved over to Emer and taking the soap from her slender fingers, began to lather her hair. Emer stiffened slightly, but then allowed herself to relax again as strong fingers massaged her scalp sensually. "I've always wondered what it would be like to do this," Dalton remarked quietly as he lifted a ewer of warm water and rinsed her hair, and then lathered it again. He dabbed at her eyes with a towel to make sure no soap got in them, and Emer was completely mesmerised at the warm and affectionate man she saw before her.

In only five short weeks they had become so close, almost as though they could communicate without words. Emer grew frightened now of doing something to spoil their intimacy with her inexperience and nervous tension. But as Dalton rubbed her hair, and then worked his way down her neck to her shoulders, before gently soaping her back with the sponge, Emer knew if he wanted her to become his lover that night, there was no way she would have the strength to refuse even if she wished to. It felt so natural being with Dalton like this. Surely it couldn't be wrong for them after all they had shared together thus far? Dalton dropped the sponge in the tub as he savoured the feel of Emer's petal-soft skin with his fingers, and sighed. "Those scars, Emer. It's such a pity. You should have told the truth about Fred. It was a foolish thing to take the punishment he so rightly deserved. Many men have died from infected wounds, as you well know." Emer shrugged. "Fred couldn't have stopped the punishment even if he had confessed, and the captain isn't exactly fond of him. If he had found out it was Fred who was responsible for the fire, he still would have beaten me, and then Fred. Only for him it probably would have been a hundred lashes instead of only a dozen. I'm sorry if you find them ugly." "There's nothing ugly about you, my dear, as well you know," Dalton reassured her, planting a kiss on her damp brow. "Are you going to have a bath as well?" Emer asked through a face full of suds. "I suppose I might as well, if the water is still warm," Dalton said, his eyes never leaving her face. "It's boiling, thank you," Emer breathed as her eyes locked with his. "I'll just get some clean clothes then," Dalton murmured, rising from his knees to go over to the dresser, where he began to pull open several drawers. Emer sat for a few minutes longer, soaking away all the dirt she had accumulated since the voyage. While she lay there, Dalton returned to her side and dried her hair, wrapping it tightly in a turban, before ruffling it with another towel, and then picking up his comb to work the tangles out of it.

"This is my idea of luxury," Emer said contentedly. "A hot bath, nice soap, and someone to wash and comb my unruly hair." "You should never have cut it, you know. It's one of your chief beauties." "It will grow back, and besides, one day it will be silver with old age. Are you trying to tell me I won't be beautiful then?" "You'll be lovely until the day you die, my dear. Your eyes and hair are lovely, but nothing can match the beauty of your personality, the woman you are inside," Dalton praised sincerely. His hand moved down in the water to cover her heart in a gesture which moved her beyond words. When she found her tongue again, Emer quipped, "You must be forgetting my one flaw, that I'm lacking in the gift of sweet speech, remember?" "Ah, yes, the great Coe Chulainn and the mythological Emer. No, I could never forget that sharp tongue of yours, not after your complete mockery of the 'Passionate shepherd to his love,' but all the same, you can be very sweet when you wish to be. I'm glad we don't fight so much any more," Dalton admitted. He turned his back so she could get out of the tub, and began to unbutton his waistcoat and untie his cravat as he did so. "I'm glad too. I don't think I would like you as an enemy," Emer stated as she climbed out of the tub, dried herself, and put on the silk dressing gown that Dalton had left out for her. "All right, I'm out of the tub. This seems a bit like false modesty after you've been nursing me for the past week," Emer observed with a grin, holding up one sleeve so Dalton could see how long it was. "It is rather large on you, my petite darling, but for once I'd like to see you in something other than trousers ten sizes too big for you, becoming though they are. It's too late for you to pile on all your petticoats and lovely blue dress. So just turn around now, so I can maintain my modesty, and have a seat on the bed." As she folded up the offending sleeve of the black silk robe, Emer turned her back. Once she heard Dalton give her the all clear, she sat on the bed and asked, "Would you like me to read to you now?"

"No, I want you to help yourself to the food on the table, and tell me about your day. You might also include a story from mythology while you're at it." "Oh dear, there are so many," Emer sighed, as she nibbled the cheese, olives and other delicacies, and then set up the chess board while Dalton soaked in the tub. She glanced over at him timidly, and then decided to brazen it out. Rolling up her other sleeve, Emer ventured over to the tub, and began to imitate the assistance that Dalton had given her. She lathered his hair, marvelling at the feel of it between her fingers, and then rubbed his scalp until he let out a deep sigh of pleasure. Emer worked her way down the tight column of his neck until the tension eased there, and continued on down to each shoulder, kneading one, then then other strongly with her supple hands until they were no longer knotted. "Does that hurt?" Emer breathed against his ear as she worked on a particularly hard spot. "No, you have healing hands, my dear," Dalton sighed with pleasure as Emer continued to sweep down his back with sensual strokes. Then she worked her way back up again, and ran her hands down his arms. "Would you like a glass of brandy?" she paused to ask. "That would be lovely," Dalton replied, keeping his eyes closed so as not to break the spell. Emer poured the glass and pressed it into his hand before lathering his chest and arms. She rinsed his hair and washed it again. "Lean back, make yourself more comfortable," Emer urged softly as he sipped the drink she had poured, and gave himself up to her tender ministrations. "I'm meant to be spoiling you, Emer, yet I seem to have got the best of the deal," he observed, opening one golden eye to peer at her as she leaned over him, her abundant burgundy hair, set free from its usual confining thong, tumbling in gloriously damp,curling disarray down over her silk-clad shoulders. "I've already had my turn. Now it's yours." As both his golden eyes opened suddenly opened, she felt Dalton could look directly into her soul.

"Emer," he started to stay, in the hopes of revealing his true feelings to her. She pressed one slender finger to his lips. "Don't spoil it. Every time we speak, we quarrel." Dalton raised her hand with his own and pressed the palm to his lips, then ran his tongue along it up to her wrist. "The last thing I want to do with you right now is fight, you must realise that, Emer." "You don't have to say anything, Dalton. Sometimes the feelings are so deep, they're beyond words." "Help me rinse my hair so I can get out of his tub?" he requested softly. She nodded and carefully poured the ewer of water over his head before rubbing his hair with a towel until it was merely damp. "Do you want to turn around?" Emer shook her head. "You've seen me. Now it's my turn." Dalton's eyes never left her face as he rose from the tub. Emer's mouth went dry as his masculine beauty became fully revealed to her. Dalton rose out of the suds like a sea god emerging from the tempestuous oceans. Her eyes widened as she took in Dalton's long legs and lean hips, and fierce masculine arousal. His stomach was flat, and his chest and shoulders broadly muscled. In short, he was beautiful, beyond anything Emer could ever have imagined. "Now you've seen all of me, as I have you. You can still leave this room, now, Emer, and I will understand. But you surely must know what will happen if you stay," Dalton said quietly, finishing drying himself off. "I leave the choice entirely up to you."

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT The pleading in Dalton's eyes for Emer to stay with him as he stood before her wrapped in nothing but a towel would have been enough to convince Emer even had she not already made up her mind to remain and spend the night with him as her lover. Emer moved now to turn the lantern down low, and took Dalton's hand, which she put to her lips and kissed in imitation of his caresses in the tub. "Would you mind very much if I stayed?" she asked as she lifted her head to bring her lips to within a few inches of his own. "Mind? My dear, it would be my fondest wish. But I warn you now, Emer, though I would try to be gentle with you, it will not be...." "I know it's difficult the first time, but I'm not afraid. I trust you, Dalton, always, you must know that by now," Emer reassured him as she brought up her hand to stroke his cheek lovingly. Dalton lowered his lips to hers in a kiss which he tried to keep gentle. But the feel of Emer's body pressed against him clad only in the thin silk robe was enough to drive him wild with longing. And though he was no virgin, no previous hurried fumblings on the part of paid companions could have ever prepared Dalton for Emer's completely uninhibited response to his lovemaking. Terrified that Dalton might still change his mind if she showed the least sign of fear or pain, Emer imitated his every caress as they clung to one another. Emer allowed her tongue to explore his mouth, and pulled aside his towel when Dalton parted her robe in the front and began to feast on her rosy nipples. Emer felt like a piece of clay being moulded and shaped into whatever Dalton desired most as her innate sensuality took control of her body. Her mind ceased to register anything other than the pure sensations of Dalton's lovemaking. The robe and towel fell around their feet in a heap unheeded as Dalton lifted Emer up into his arms and laid her down on the bed. He continued to kiss her deeply as he trailed feather-light touches down her stomach with his fingers, before finally daring to move lower to part her legs and to stroke her to a fever pitch before daring to insert a finger gently inside of her.

Emer's cheeks burned with pleasure as she felt Dalton's incredible exploration of her innermost being continue, almost until she couldn't bear the sweet pain of unsatisfied yearning. Passion coursed through her veins like a heady wine, and sensing rather than hearing her sigh of contentment, Dalton tried to stretch her tight young flesh further in the hope of easing the pain she was bound to feel at their joining. Summoning up all his imagination as he recalled an old acquaintance's boasts about how he pleased his women, Dalton suckled her nipples while his second and third fingers tantalised her delicate flesh. Then he moved lower and lower, nuzzling and tasting every inch of Emer's body, and all the while wanting more, greedily nibbling like a hungry child. Emer lay completely hypnotised by the spell his mouth and fingers were working upon her as Dalton worshipped her body with his own. Finally, after what seemed an agony of expectation, he did indeed prove so bold as to fasten his mouth over the moist core of her femininity and began to arouse her even more thrillingly. The sound she made, half way between a cry and a moan, brought Dalton's face back up level with her. "Did I hurt you?" "No, no, it's just, oh Dalton!" Emer panted as her body ceased to be her own. Against his fingers, he could feel the flood of dampness deep inside her which told him Emer was ready for him, nay, burned for him. Though alarmed by her shuddering sighs, Dalton was too fascinated by her pleasured response to pull back even if he wanted to. Driven by his own needs as well as her obvious desire, he bent her knees as he moved between her thighs. Rubbing himself against her slick softness until she clutched him to her eagerly, Dalton carefully began to ease himself inside of her. The fingers of one hand laced through her hair, while the other clasped her buttock as he tried to keep a grip on his rampaging desires. Dalton's breathing grew ragged as he felt her flesh begin to yield and he finally entered her completely. Emer gritted her teeth to prevent herself from crying out as Dalton filled her, and seemed to go on forever.

But at last he stopped pressing into her, and Emer took his full weight as Dalton clung onto her like a man grasping a life preserver. Resting on both his elbows, he began to move with long, sure strokes. The sensations of his deep thrusting and the feeling of burgeoning fullness set her afire all over again, and Emer sensed her already swollen and twitching flesh clench below. Dalton made a choking noise, and then grasped her buttocks with both hands. "Oh God!" Dalton practically shouted. He set up a fast and furious rhythm which Emer instinctively followed, until she felt something like a small explosion inside of her, and saw a rainbow of colours flashing in her mind. In a voice she barely recognised as her own Emer called out his name, and felt the heat fly to her face, and all the way down to her tingling toes. Then they finally floated back down to earth together, completely satiated and spent in each other's warm embrace. Emer lay stunned but happy in Dalton's arms. All the love poetry she had ever read hadn't come close to finding an adequate description of the incredible sensations becoming Dalton's lover had produced. But perhaps it isn't like this for everyone, or is only like this with the person you love. And perhaps it isn't so special for Dalton, Emer reflected sadly. After all, he'd admitted he'd done this before. Dalton for his own part lay in the bunk like a man struck by lightning. Never had his experiences prepared him for anything like what he had felt as he had lost himself in utter abandon, feeling only the sheer delight of Emer's body as it connected electrifyingly with his. Dalton tried to move off Emer so as not to crush her, but her hands stroked his back and buttocks. She murmured against his shoulder, "You're fine, not too heavy. Stay, please." Emer kissed his chest and throat, and Dalton sleepily moved his head down to kiss her tenderly. As their tongues sensually intertwined, Dalton felt himself harden again. Sensing the change and seeking to move closer to him, feel him deeper inside her, Emer arched under him. Dalton moved then, with increasingly sure strokes as he watch her rapturous expression. He drove them both ever higher, each reaching peak after peak of pleasure as he made love to her with no restraint or doubt.

Though surprised at his persistent ardour, Emer knew no fear, but matched his desire with her own. She kissed him, stroked him, and marvelled at his male body, which in the shadowy light of the low burning lantern seemed to her the most fascinating sight she had ever seen. Even better than looking at Dalton's magnificent body was exploring it from head to toe with her slender fingers, and Dalton left no part of her untasted as he made love to her like a man intent on coaxing every drop of pleasure from her, and then finding more ways to delight her. Emer's feelings went beyond words as she lost track of how many times they climaxed together, each joining sweeter and more sensually tender than the next. But at last, sensing his need to lie quietly wrapped around her, Emer held Dalton tightly and pillowed his head against her breasts. A drowsy numbness finally began to overtake them, and Emer could hear Dalton's steady breathing, which signalled to her that he had finally fallen asleep. She smiled softly, and shut her eyes, marvelling at how wide awake she was, yet had just experienced the most wonderful dream.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE Emer lay awake in Dalton's arms after their incredible night of passion, savouring the feel of his body, and knowing that though she longed to sleep, she would have to get up when the watch came off at four. All too soon, Emer heard the heavy footsteps above her head on the poop deck, and the ship's bells chime. With a last lingering kiss on Dalton's lips, she managed to untwine her limbs from his without waking him, and tiptoed out of the cabin door. Once in her own quarters, Emer hastily washed herself in the freezing water from the basin, and then donned a clean set of work clothes. She breezed through her chores that morning light-heartedly, and then went to visit the sick children, who were all looking much better. There was no sign of Dalton anywhere, but Emer decided not to wake him for breakfast, since she was certain his manly exertions from the night before must have worn him out. She hugged her memory of all they had shared to her like a silk shawl, warm and sensual against her skin, and sang as she worked in the galley. After she had finished all the cabins except Dalton's, Emer went down into the hold, where she found her father with even more fever patients on his hands. She flushed guiltily at her recollections of how she had spent the night when he observed, "Well, there's one of us blooming on this voyage at any rate." He patted her on the cheek, and then waved to her as she went below to dole out the provisions. Fewer and fewer people were able to cook for themselves because of their illness, so Jim Beckett allotted them all ship's biscuit that day, and some of the smoked fish. "Is there a storm blowing up again, do you think?" she asked. "Can't be sure, but it will save the poor devils the bother of fighting over the fire above at any rate." Jim shook his head, and disappeared. After she had finished handing out the stores and organising food for the crew with the steward, Emer returned to the stern of the ship. Unable to contain her longing to see Dalton once again, she tidied her hair and clothes, and tapped very lightly at his door.

A loud "Come in!" indicated that Dalton was finally awake, and Emer practically skipped into the room and moved over to kiss Dalton good morning. Her heart sank and her stomach began to churn as Dalton avoided the kiss by holding her away from him at arm's length, and muttering nothing more than an arctic good morning. Emer looked up at him, her puzzlement and hurt written all over her face. "If you're here to clean the cabin, I was just finishing my morning shave. I'll be out of your way in a minute," Dalton said flatly, as if Emer were a mere servant. Emer barely recognised the man who stood before her, tight lipped, with a closed, wary expression on his face which boded no good. "I don't understand, Dalton. Have I done something to offend you?" Emer managed to get out through clenched teeth as she fought back her nausea. "No, I just have to finish shaving, that's all. Come back in a few minutes when I'm gone." Emer glanced over at the bed that they had shared the night before, and saw that it had been stripped. "Dalton, what happened to the bed? Where are the sheets?" "I, um, they were, oh for heaven's sake, can't you guess?" Dalton growled. His head hammered painfully, and felt as though it were going to burst. He knew he hadn't drunk more than a thimbleful of brandy, so he couldn't possibly be suffering from a hangover. But when he had awakened in the morning and found Emer gone, he had done nothing but replay their whole experience together over and over in his mind. He had got out of bed eager to find her, tomake sure she was as happy as he. Then he had seen the sheets. The stark evidence of Emer's lost virginity had shocked him out of his romantic delusions like a bucket of ice water over his head. Attacked by an acute fit of remorse, Dalton had determined, rather belatedly, that he had to get a grip on his rampaging desires. Under

the pretext of being kind to Emer, nursing her, he had in actual fact ruined a complete innocent almost half his age. What made it all the more despicable in his mind was that even now, in spite of being fully aware of the enormity of what he had done, Dalton wanted Emer so desperately he had all to do to stop himself from tearing her clothes off and dragging her back to bed right then and there. Dalton gritted his teeth and tried to busy himself shaving. His hands were shaking so badly, he prayed he wouldn't cut his own throat in the process. "The sheets were damaged, my fault, I'm afraid. They were beyond repair, so I threw them over the side. There are some clean ones in the drawer. But you can go about your other duties now. There's no hurry about fixing the bed," he said seemingly nonchalantly as she continued to stare at him wide-eyed. "After what happened last night, I don't understand how you can treat me like this, as though I were a complete stranger!" "Emer, should never have.... And we mustn't, not again. It was my fault things got completely out of hand, and I have no wish to ruin your reputation or prospects for a happy marriage in the future to someone more suitable for you than I could ever possibly be," Dalton sighed, risking facing her for the first time. She stared at him as though he were speaking a foreign language. "I don't understand what you're trying to say. Let me see if I've got this straight. You think last night was a mistake, and you want me to stay away from you from now on, but it's for my own good?" Emer repeated, disbelief at his callous betrayal etched on her lovely face. Dalton tried to keep his voice steady. "I took advantage of your youth and inexperience, and I'm afraid I would only use you, take further advantage of your availability to seduce you." "Now just a minute! I don't recall any seduction going on here last night. I thought our desire for each other was mutual. I became your lover because I wanted you, Dalton. And I thought you wanted me. Or is it that now you've had me, you're just no longer interested? You got what you wanted all along, and now wish to move on to pastures new? Find another nymph?" "No, Emer, it's nothing like that!" Dalton was stung into denying heatedly. He put down his razor and wiped his face, then came out from behind the door of the watercloset.

"And you accused me of being cynical!" she gasped, longing to throw the chamberpot at his head. Dalton took a deep breath and steadied his voice before responding more gently, "Emer, for once, please don't argue with me. Just listen to the voice of reason. You're nearly half my age, and I don't wish to ruin your life because of one night of passion which I should have had the sense to stop before it went too far and you were hurt." "It's too late for regrets, Dalton, since I'm already 'ruined' as the parlance goes. It is ridiculous to talk of other men wanting to marry me now, and that's not even mentioning the fact that I might already be with child! It only takes one time for it to happen, and I seem to remember that you and I did it more than..." Dalton's self control began to slip as he recalled their night with painfully alluring clarity and raised his hand as if to ward off a blow. "Enough, Emer, that is quite enough. I don't wish to talk about this subject any more. I forgot myself, and I'm sorry. I can't promise you anything once we get off this ship, so our friendship has to end here and now, before any more damage is done. If you eventually find yourself in trouble, then by all means you can contact me, and we will make whatever arrangements you feel are necessary. But otherwise, I can't ever...." Emer's eyes narrowed as she looked at him with absolute fury burning in her piercing aqua gaze. "Even if I were 'in trouble' as you put it, after what you've just said, Dalton Randolph, you'd be the last person in the world I would ever turn to for help! This isn't about me, is it, about protecting my virtue, since in the eyes of the world I now have none. No, I think it's about how you feel. "I got too close, didn't I?" she guessed. "I got too high above my lowly station as cabin boy. I thought we were friends if nothing else. I could have stopped you last night. I could have said no at any time. You gave me the chance to walk out of here, remember? "Your kisses are impressive, Dalton, but I had every opportunity to think rationally and leave. I chose to stay, and that's what you blame me for. If I had asked for money afterwards you would have thought nothing of it. Instead I gave myself to you for nothing, because I wanted to be with you. Now you don't even want to speak to me." He hung his head and remained silent. Her voice began to crack as she bit out, "After all we've shared for these past weeks on the ship, this is truly unworthy of you, Dalton. If

that's is what you really think of me, it's a wonder you didn't just let me die of food poisoning!" "Really, Emer, you're being hysterical," Dalton scolded, though he could see she was completely sincere. "What I am or am not I of no concern to you any longer, Mr. Randolph," Emer hissed. "As of now, you have your wish. I won't speak to you, and will make every attempt not see you either. I shall exchange jobs with Cathan, and that will be an end to this whole sorry situation." With a toss of her flaming burgundy hair, she slammed out of his cabin without a backward glance. Dalton let his breath out with a sigh, and poured himself a stiff brandy from his small flask. "Once a dishonest bugger, always..." he uttered in a fit of intense selfloathing, as he tossed back another glass. Damn the girl, she had this terrifying ability to read him like a book every time. That was she how she had got so close to him in the first place. Dalton knew he had to keep his promise and avoid her, or else he was truly lost. But oh, how he longed for her to be by his side just once more, he groaned inwardly, as he gulped his third glass of liquor for breakfast, and desperately tried to stop his hands from shaking with the most acute desire for her warm soft flesh...

CHAPTER THIRTY Emer fled to the lower galley, where she scrubbed the pots, pans, work surfaces and laundry with a vengeance, trying to work out her fury and disappointment over Dalton's callousness on the inanimate objects rather than lashing out at her friends and family. Cathan came down at midday from nursing the children and asked, "Sis, what on earth are you doing down here?" "I fancied a change, that's all," she sniffed, trying to hide her red eyes with her fall of burgundy hair. "Oh no, you and Mr. Randolph haven't had another fight again, have you?" "What makes you say that?" She looked up sharply, proclaiming them guilty as charged. "Well, he was stinking of brandy at eleven in the morning when he came in to look on the children. After I cleaned the room and made the bed and dumped the tub as he ordered, he locked himself in his room, and as far as I can tell he's just sitting there. There's no noise or anything." "What make you think it has anything to do with me?" "You look mad enough to spit nails, that's all. Didn't you enjoy the little surprise he asked me to help with?" "I don't want to talk about it!" she snapped. "Men and women, humph. No sense, any of you! And you're the worst, Emer. You have half the men on the crew pining for you, but no, rather than choose one of them, you have to set your sights on the rich toff who wouldn't take a second look at you off this ship unless you were wrapped head to toe in mink!" "He's not like that and you know it! Who helped nurse the children and me and Mammy when we were all ill?" Emer found herself defending Dalton in spite of her anger at his cavalier treatment of her. "Ha! That got you!" Cathan gloated. Her eyes widened. "What do you mean?" Cathan grinned cheekily, ruffling his sister's hair. "It shows you've got it real bad for Mr. Randolph, even if the two of you do fight like cats and dogs."

She stiffened and scowled. "Never mind that now. I want you to change duties with me from now on, and tell Cara we need her back up here to nurse the other children. I'm going to go work down in the hold from now on. The fevers are spreading like wildfire, and we have to do something to nip them in the bud." "I don't see what you can do, Emer. Mr. Randolph and Mrs. Jenkins are doing everything they can, but they're still dying down there." "What's the state of the rainwater barrels?" "Nearly full after that last amazing storm. Why?" "Can you get me more seawater while I cook this stew. And I'll also need Tomas' clothes from your room. I'll go get the rest of mother's things." Cathan looked at her quietly and then said, "You can take Mrs. Lynch's and Maeve's and Roisin's as well. Da says they're going fast, only he didn't want me to tell you because he said you looked so happy this morning he didn't want to spoil things." Emer really did begin to laugh hysterically then, so that Cathan shook his sister by the shoulders. When she still didn't calm down, he summoned Joe, who slapped Emer until her laugh came out as a choking gurgle and she began to weep in earnest. "I'm sorry, love, I didn't mean to hurt you. But you have to pull yourself together," Joe soothed as Emer sat on the floor of the galley in a heap. He wrapped his arms around her and cradled her against his chest like a child. "You didn't hurt me, Joe. I just feel like everything is falling apart and I'm powerless to stop it," Emer wept. "Tell me what's got you so upset. Maybe I can help. Is it Dalton Randolph? You really love him, don't you?" Joe asked, though it cost him an effort to get the words out. Emer shook her head. "It doesn't matter now. It's over, finished. I was foolish to ever think that his simple kindness could be anything more than mere politeness. We've just been thrown together on this ship, and once we get off, this fake little world will end, and we will be back to reality. There's no magical prince in my future, that's for sure, and at the rate we're going, I'm not going to have any family left either."

Joe decided he had to be cruel to be kind. "Stop feeling so damned sorry for yourself, Emer. You aren't the only one here who has loved and lost, as well you know. I've lost all my family, and the one woman in the world I've ever loved is engaged to someone else, and in love with another man. "As for the real world as you call it, this ship is it. The crises we've been through together already, and any other awful events we will have to endure before we get to Canada, show what we're really made of, warts and all. I need you to be strong, Emer. True, love is important, but there's duty too. "You can't let yourself fall apart over Dalton Randolph. He simply isn't worth it. You're a wonderful woman whom any man less of an arrogant snob would see was worth her weight in gold even if you didn't have a penny to your name. "I'm sorry about Tomas and your mother, and about the girls. But the children at least are well, and we have a long way to go before we can give up fighting for survival. It's going to be a struggle every inch of the way to Quebec. "And even if we do get there alive, we will have to fight for jobs, houses, everything we need to survive, let alone anything we might aspire to one day. So please, Emer, learn from your suffering, and then move on. If Dalton doesn't love you, let him go," Joe urged. "And you, Joe? What will I ever do without you in Canada?" Emer snuffled as she wiped her tears on her sleeve, and looked up at her earnest brown-eyed young friend. "I'll never leave you, no matter what. If I can't marry you, you could always make room for another brother in your family, couldn't you?" "Always," Emer promised. "You know, Mr. Murphy, I'm glad we didn't throw you overboard that day." Joe smiled and kissed her. "Not half as glad as I am." He rose to his feet and helped her up off the floor. "Will you be all right now?" "Sure, there was never anything wrong with me," Emer managed to joke. "Tidy your hair and bathe your eyes, and you'll look just fine. Chin up, girl!"

Joe chucked her under said body part, and with a last kiss on the cheek, he left her alone in the galley with her brooding thoughts.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE Emer finished cooking the meal and cleaning up after the men in a more positive, even bellicose frame of mind after the argument she had had with Dalton that morning over the fact that he didn't believe they could ever have a future together. Well, they might not, but that did not mean the rest of the poor souls on the ship were to be consigned to hell, not if she could do something about it. As soon as she finished her regular chores, she went down to the hold to seek out Mrs. Jenkins and get permission to put into effect her course of action. Mrs. Jenkins listened patiently to her proposals to scrub the patients and the hold. "I think the captain will agree. I've drawn the same conclusions myself. The people laying next to each other in the crowded bunks have contracted the fever quickly, and it seems to take off whole families. "Most of the people who got clean clothes and a wash at the start of the voyage are still healthy, so if you're willing to give up the clothes, then we shall let you have the soap, water and fuel. I have a few old things myself I'll let you have. But where on earth can we start?" "With the healthy ones. We can get them to wash out their clothes as well, and dry them on the deck below, then move on to the sick ones, and throw their old clothes overboard," Emer suggested. "Right, you can have your brothers-in-law to help you from the crew, and to supervise the male bathers. I shall help you, and perhaps your sisters that are still well would be willing to lend a hand?" "Brona will help, I'm sure, but Cara is up with the mumps patients. We've had a few more cases, and she can't be spared." "Right, well, in that case it will have to be the three of us. Get all the tubs on deck, and I'll go fetch some old clothes the captain doesn't wear, and the rest of the slops from the chest. I have some good bolts of cotton fabrics as well, which I was intending to make into new shirts for the captain. But if Ailis wouldn't mind running up some more shirts and trousers for the men for the slop chest, I'd be very grateful." "I'll see to it that she does."

The rest of the day passed by in a whirl of activity as one by one, all the passengers washed themselves and their garments, and put on the changes of clothes Emer provided. Then while they were all on deck, Emer and two of the boys scrubbed out the filthy bunks, as well as the floors and privies. Every healthy passenger who could lend a hand was summoned to help fetch and carry water, and Mrs. Jenkins gave them all extra rations and a tot of rum and lime juice apiece that night to lift their sagging spirits. "I don't know if all this hard work is going to make any difference," Mrs. Jenkins sighed as she signalled for Emer to fetch some men to remove another dead body from the hold, "but so far, this isn't nearly as bad as some of the runs from Ireland we've had these past two years, even though it's been so desperately bad for your family." Emer followed her gaze to the bloated corpse and shuddered. "Aye, it has been, but so far we lost Tomas, Nuala and my mother to accidents and other illnesses, not to the fever.. So we can only hope. A lot of them were dying of starvation anyway, so that might be the main cause of their death, rather than the fever itself. You know, they were so weakened already by lack of food, that they hadn't the strength to fight the disease." "And with the yellow fever, it comes back, and then they get weaker and weaker with each successive bout." She nodded, her eyes lighting. "That's right, I've noticed that myself. But the ones who were treated promptly, made to rest, and who were not so run down and exhausted, seem to have made a full recovery." "It's the seasickness as well that is so debilitating, not to mention the flux," Mrs. Jenkins pointed out as she labored. "And the bloody flux. We've lost another five of those patients since yesterday, but at least it hasn't spread all over the ship," Emer said, crossing herself and offering up a quick prayer. "What else should we do now, do you think?" She gazed around her at the skeletal women before her. "My guess would be that as soon as we have the hold here scrubbed down, we take a look at the crew's quarters, and make sure they all wash properly as well. Soap and hot water for everyone, including the fever patients."

"I'll tell the boys to get started on it as soon as they finish in the hold," Mrs. Jenkins agreed. "We might as well take advantage of the good weather and the hot fires and water while we have them." "How much further to Canada, do you think?". "We're make very slow progress, I'm afraid. I would hope another week, but if we have any more delays, we might start running out of food and water." Emer sighed. "Just one more cross to bear." "And you bear them very well, my dear." "I only wish could do more." "You've done more than I've ever seen anyone do, and for complete strangers, no less. It makes me ashamed that I've done so little these past two years. Damn the Randall regulations. Just wait until I get to Quebec. Sam might not be willing to give him a piece of his mind, but I certainly will." "Oh, please, Mrs. Jenkins, don't get into trouble on our account." The older woman smiled. "It seems to me you've had nothing but trouble on all of our accounts, so it's the least I can do." "Thank you, Mrs. Jenkins. It was down to you that the Captain hired us." "Best days work either of us ever did," she said with a wink. "And please, dear, call me Emily." Emer stared at her, and said shyly, "Well, only when the captain isn't around. Thank you, Emily." "Now, my girl, you're finished, send the next lady in," Mrs. Jenkins said to the thin waif she had been tending to. Emer handed her some clean clothes and a small scrap of towel to dry herself with, before throwing her louse ridden clothes over the side. The sun dipped lower in the sky as Emer and the others hauled the most ill patients up to the foredeck, and scrubbed the women. They were painfully thin, and the yellowish tinge to their skin was quite alarming. The patients with the black rashes she was particularly careful with, and not only threw out all the clothes they were wearing, but any other

rags she found in their bunks, and their blankets and sheets as well if they had any. "Why did you do that?" Reamann asked, staring. "They have nothing left now." "Because for one thing, they are more likely to die than the others, so those bit and pieces will make no difference to them. And for another, this is the most serious of the two fevers. I know the yellow fever is terrible because they keep relapsing, but if you've noticed, nearly every single person with the black rashes has died. It's far more dangerous than the yellow variety, even though the relapses are quite bad." Reamann nodded and headed back down below with her to continue scrubbing out the bunks with warm water and soap. "Aye, I've noticed that as well. It makes sense to me." He worked on in silence for another moment, then said, "Emer, about the other day in the children's cabin--" "Really, Reamann, I have no wish to quarrel with you on that subject again. We've both made our feelings perfectly clear, and...." "No, we haven't," Reamann interrupted sheepishly. "I've been foolish and I've hurt you and Cara. I said some rotten things to you in front of Mr. Randolph, and I'm sorry if he took offence. I can see you're fond of him, and I want you to know I wish you both well." "Nothing will come of our acquaintance, I assure you, so there's no point in even discussing the matter further." "I know, but I was jealous, and I'm sorry. The truth is that I started out at first to, I, well, I used Cara to try to make you jealous, thinking you'd come around in time and view me in a more favourable light. They say that love can grow over time, with mutual respect and so on. I was hoping you might one day come to see me in that light." She shook her head and moved to the next bunk to inspect it. "No, Reamann, you know it's impossible. We shall always be the best of friends, but anything more between us would be dishonest, and unfair to you. If I'm not willing to settle for second best, you shouldn't be either." "Well, I am, though I don't mean it quite the way it sounds. I've come to realise over the past few days, ever since Cara stopped speaking to me, that I do care for her," he admitted in a low voice as he stooped to clean the next bunk.

"Do you think your father would give us permission to wed, and do you suppose you could ask the captain if he would perform the service for us?" She stared at him in surprise. "Don't you want to wait until we get to port, so you can wed in a proper church?" He shook his head. "No, I don't. The one thing that this voyage has taught me is that life is too short to wait for what you want. Seize every opportunity before it's too late, that's my new motto," Reamann said firmly. "But this is all so sudden. You've heard the old adage, 'Marry in haste, repent at leisure'?" "Aye, but I know Cara loves me, and I promise you, Emer, I will try to make her happy." Emer continued to scrub the bunks for a few moments while she considered Reamann's astonishing news. "All right, Reamann, I'll talk to the captain, but you'll have to ask Da yourself." "Thanks." Reamann grinned as he hugged her to him. "Well, my dear, it looks like we're going to have a wedding in the family!" Reamann kissed her on the cheek lingeringly, reluctantly relinquishing all the hopes and dreams he had ever centred around Emer, and then went to find Mr. Nugent. Emer smiled softly at his retreating back. Suddenly she saw Dalton in the shadow of the mast watching her with an expression on his face that could only be described as glowering. "You can't be planning on marrying that young puppy!" Dalton grated out harshly as he stepped forward to shake Emer by the elbow. Emer jerked her arm free, and hissed, "It would be no business of yours if I were. You made your feelings perfectly plain this morning, so there's nothing more to be said." "Poor bastard. I feel sorry for him. What number is he in line, third or fourth, tenth?" "I beg your pardon! Until last night I was a..." "But you seem overly eager to repeat the experience now. My father was right, all women are.."

"Don't you dare say that to me, you swine! Men only say that about the women they want but can't have!" Dalton smirked. "Not true in my case, then, is it?" Emer slapped him soundly across the face, not caring who saw or heard their argument . "My mistake, and one which I won't repeat again even if you begged me!" Dalton used his superior strength to back her into the dark corner by the privy and held Emer so tightly she could barely breathe. "Let's put your brave words to the test, my dear!" He proceeded to kiss her bruisingly until she ceased to struggle. Emer managed to pull her lips free before she lost complete control, and gasped, "Please, Dalton, why are you doing this to me?" "Because, damn it, I can't help myself. I can't bear the thought of you marrying Reamann or anyone else!" He trembled in her arms, and kissed her again. When he finally lifted his lips, Emer laughed shakily. "Reamann is marrying Cara, not me," "Do you swear?" Dalton demanded, shaking her, before kissing her again. "Yes, he just wants me to go ask Captain Jenkins to perform the service as soon as possible. He never really loved me, not like, like this," Emer sighed, as she lifted one hand to caress Dalton' cheek. Her use of the word 'love' shocked him out of his reckless pursuit of Emer. "I'm sorry then, my mistake." Dalton released her abruptly, and backed away. "I meant what I said this morning. I'm sorry if I lost my temper just now, and said vile things didn't mean. But nothing like this can be allowed to happen again, Emer. Not ever." Dalton was gone before Emer could stop him. But she knew even if she had, it would have been pointless, not to say degrading, to plead with him. She could see also that now he was angry with himself as well for having been goaded into revealing his feelings through his jealous

display over Reamann. There was no point in trying to be rational, when the feelings between them raged out of control every time they came near one another. Perhaps he'll come around in a few days, Emer thought with an inward sigh. But did she really want him to? Joe had said to learn a lesson from her pain, and move on. No, there was no point in pinning her hopes on Dalton, when according to Mrs. Jenkins' calculations, they would soon be reaching Quebec and the end of their voyage together. It's over. Forget you ever met, ever made love with, the arrogant Dalton Randolph, Emer counselled herself as she returned to her scrubbing of the filthy bunks with a heavy heart.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO Emer's tireless efforts on the part of the sick passengers down in the hold was appreciated, even if they had no way of determining as of yet whether it would prove beneficial. But Emer carried on regardless in order to take her mind off of Dalton's betrayal, and her other troubles as well.

The few times Emer accidentally saw him, Dalton looked away from her as though she were a leper, and Emer was sure her heart would break. Emer's sisters Maeve and Roisin got weaker despite her efforts, and on the following day, they both slipped away peacefully, one in the early morning, and Roisin in the sweltering afternoon. Another six of the black fever patients passed away as well, including Michael Molloy's mother, and Mrs. Lynch. Mr. Lynch had also taken a bad turn in the middle of the night, and had had no one to nurse him because Brona and Emer were so busy with the others. Ailis had refused to go near any sick people, even her own ailing father, because she was so terrified of dying herself. Fortunately, though Ailis wasn't willing to help nurse the sick, she was willing to ply her needle, and sat in her bunk with the mountain of cloth Mrs. Jenkins had given her. She sewed on night and day to make new clothes for the sailors' slop chest, and for any completely destitute passengers who needed clothes after they had been scrubbed up top on the foredeck. Ailis still wouldn't speak to Emer unless absolutely necessary, but Emer was too tired and heart-sore to care. The bodies of her sisters and friends were committed to the deep with an astonishing rapidity necessitated by the scorching temperatures outside, and the stench in the hold grew unbearable again despite all the efforts they had made to keep the place clean. "The fever is still spreading," Mrs. Jenkins sighed as she nursed another case of black fever. "We don't know that for certain," Emer insisted as she scrubbed the deck nearby. "The woman was in the bunk right next to the man who had just died. She might have already been sick when we washed her, and in any case she should have had more sense than to lie next to him in that condition." Emer continued to scrub on in thoughtful silence until Mrs. Jenkins interrupted her thoughts. "I think you're right though, Emer. Many of the people in the hammocks seem to have avoided contagion," Emily Jenkins observed suddenly as she looked up. Emer lifted her head and followed the direction of Emily's glance. "That's true, there were a couple of them ill at first, but they seem to have recovered."

"Maybe if the weather stays good, the healthy people can sleep up on the decks in the fresh air. I shall ask the captain for permission," Emily said decisively, and bustled up the ladder purposefully. Emer continued to scrub the deck until her back and knees ached, and then went over to her family's living quarters and looked at the bunks speculatively for a moment. "Brona, Da, can you come here for a minute, please?" she called to her family. Just then Cara descended the stairs also. "What's the matter, Emer?" her father asked wearily. "These bunks, that's what's the matter. They are full of our stores, and the sick are still crammed in at the back. The children are up above and the girls and mother are gone. We don't need so much space anymore." "Mr. Lynch is gone as well," Brona said quietly. Emer looked down at the now-empty bunk with a crushing sense of despair, and crossed herself. "Poor man. At least it was quick." She forced back her tears as she said decisively, "I want us to move ourselves all into this first row here, to give up these spare beds to those that need them. Brona, Cara, you help me take the stores of food out, and we'll need to sort through Mr. Lynch's things as well. Anything we don't need, anything taking up room, I want to get rid of it. "That will free up eight bunks here. Brona, we can move Michael up here to the front with us, and also poor old Mr. O'Reilly, Marion Lacy, and Aine Flanagan from Kilbracken. They have no one else left to look after them." Her father nodded, but Ailis protested shrilly, "But there's hardly any room as it is, and I'm getting close to my time. What about Martin and Cormac. Where can they sleep?" "They are up with the crew anyway, and I might add that they got sick with the fever from sleeping down here. So we must clear this place out, scrub it down, and let some of the other people come forward so they're not laying next to sick people." The girls moved up and down the ladder piling the provisions on deck, while Emer scrubbed the place out, and then helped move some of the people crowded in the stern forward. "What are you going to do with the food? I'm far too ill to cook for myself," Ailis whined.

"That's right, daughter, what are you going to do with the food?" Liam asked. "I'll bring some of it to my cabin to keep in reserve, but we have so much here that I think we should give some of it away, put it in with the rest of the ship's stores." "But Emer, we need to eat as well," Brona protested. "I know that, but this food was originally intended for all of us when we first started out from Kilbracken. But we aren't twenty-four people any more. The boys and I get generous rations from the ship's stores, and we've been giving you all the leftovers as well as what you already have down here. I'll leave the fresh water and brandy kegs, and some cheese and water crackers, but we've so much here it's silly to keep it all for only four people," Emer said logically. "Keep something for Michael, and the other two sick people," Liam agreed. "But what about the rest?" "We have a load of dried vegetables and beans. I'm going to go up and see if I can make some broth for the most ill patients, and soup for all the others. Let's face it, when we arrive in Canada, we can't go around the streets of Quebec with flitches of bacon and barrels of salt pork under our arms." "But, Emer, we could sell it," Cara pointed out. "No one would buy it in a place where food is plentiful, and I will not have these poor wretches starving while we have so much," Emer countered firmly. Her family stared at her for a few seconds, and then Brona said reluctantly, "All right, you win, but you will be sure to keep some of it for us, won't you?" "There's plenty here. I don't think we need to worry on that score. Just give me some time, and you'll all have some lovely hot stew before you know it." Brona and Cara took some of the food to the stern and put it in Emer's cabin under the bunk. Then Emer sought out Mrs. Jenkins to ask permission to carry out her plan in the galleys. When Emer entered the captain's cabin, Dalton was sitting writing in the large window. Emer felt a constriction in her chest as though someone had grabbed hold of her heart and squeezed. She avoiding looking at him as she explained her errand.

Mrs. Jenkins protested, "But what will your family eat? Really, Emer, you're worn down to a thread. I know you haven't been sleeping, and now you're taking on all this extra work. There is only so much you can do." "My family have plenty, and as you yourself said, the ship's stores may not last if we don't reach Canada soon." "All right, but I will not let you use up all of your stores at once, just in case we encounter any further delays to Quebec. There's also the fish the men have been catching thanks to Joe. I want you to make soup and stew every day, but only one big pot of each, mind, and you may hand out a piece of cheese each with the morning rations. Use your judgment to see how far the food will stretch. I shall just go ask the captain for his views upon the matter. "But I'm sure he will thank you for your generous offer, as do I. I only wish we could increase the daily allowances of food, especially in view of how many passengers we have lost, but as you know, it would be most imprudent at this point." "There are the extra stores for the crew," Emer pointed out. Emily Jenkins shook her head. "No, we couldn't do that. I know they have plenty, but the Randall Shipping Company would have our heads on a platter if we used the crew's rations for the steerage passengers." "But if they're starving?" Emer argued angrily. "No, Emer, I'm sorry. It's not permitted, and neither myself nor Captain Jenkins can discuss the issue further. Please wait here while I go above and speak to him about the first matter." Emer was forced to endure the silence in the cabin, until finally Dalton threw his quill down in exasperation, and declared, "She's right, you know. You don't look at all well, and all this extra work will only leave you open to illness yourself." "I'm fine. There's no need for concern, if concern is indeed what you feel for a mere cabin boy," Emer replied with a lift of her chin. "Emer, damn it, you are the most exasperating female..." "I'm lacking in the third gift of womanhood, remember?" she fired back. Dlton took a deep breath. "Emer, I can't stand seeing you like this...."

"Then I'll go down to the galley below, and you won't have to. If you'd be so kind as to tell Mrs. Jenkins where I've gone, I'd be grateful. I have to start dinner now anyway." "Emer, wait, please!" Dalton called. But Emer's emotions were far too raw. She ran from the room as though the hounds of hell were after her. Dalton leapt up from his chair to follow her, but then sat down heavily with a sigh. She's getting on with her life. She doesn't need you complicating things for her when she has so many other people depending on her, he reminded himself. Forcing himself to take up his pen again, Dalton resumed his account of the fevers he was witnessing first-hand, which he was penning for his old friend Ralph Sommersby.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Dalton's resolution to avoid Emer's charms lasted another two uncomfortable days as he tried not to

look at her while they were in the hold or on deck together. Generally he kept to his quarters or the children's sick room for fear of running into her, but he couldn't avoid her forever in the small confines of the ship, and he grew more and more lax about permitting himself a small glimpse of her at least a few times during the day. Emer finished her chores in the galley cooking for the crew and making the soup and stew for the steerage passengers. It was a bright sunny July afternoon, so she decided to go up to the foredeck to try to clean the appalling privies. Armed with gloves, and buckets of sudsy hot water and brushes, she and Reamann, now eagerly awaiting his marriage to Cara, which was set for the following day, went forward to tackle the job together. "We've been at sea for six weeks now, and there's still no sign of land," Reamann sighed. "I know. I'm worried too. But we haven't had much wind, and all that tacking and veering has end up putting us a bit off course." "The first mate thinks we might have a storm coming this way." "Really? But it's such a lovely day. That sun is blazing," Emer observed as she pulled off her waistcoat and flipped it over her head to protect her neck from the strong rays beating down on her. Emer pulled a handkerchief soaked in vinegar over her face as was her wont when dealing with the smelliest chores, and now Reamann did likewise.

Then they both pulled on their gloves, and began to empty the buckets. They rinsed them over the side, and then scrubbed them several more times before returning them to the deck. Then they did the same to the wooden seats and floorboards in each watercloset, until Emer's back ached. Suddenly she heard a shout from the Mate for all hands on deck. "What is it, do you think?" Reamann shrugged. "Another change of direction, fiddling with the sails or something." But Patrick gave them the bad news that a storm was coming. Emer looked up to see the black clouds gathering on the horizon in the distance. As the crew dispersed to make ready for the approaching tempest, Reamann and Emer were about to go below to put out the fires, when all of a sudden they heard the most appalling singing coming from high above their heads. Peering up into the strong slanting sunshine, Emer detected Fred and Charlie sitting aloft in the crow's nest, still on watch for any sign of land since early that morning. "My God, they've been up there all day! No one went to relieve them!" "They're hardened sailors, Emer. They're used to long watches." "But they've been out in the sun all that time. Look, they're as red as lobsters. You remember a few years back how sick Garvan and Oran were when

they stayed out in the fields too long and got burned." "You're right, they could be very ill, delirious even." "Fred, Charlie, can you hear me? It's Emer. You must come down, there's a storm on the way!" Charlie's only response was a cackle. Fred bellowed, "Let it come, I'm ready for it!" as he waved his fists in the air. She tried again to convince them to come down, but they continued carousing up at the top with a flask of rum Emer knew he kept his and his other traded rations in. "Hare and hounds, they've not got a lick of sense between them what with the grog and heat stroke. We have to go up and help them." Emer threw down her cleaning implements as she prepared to climb the shroud leading to the top of the main mast. "Are you mad! That storm is going to hit any minute!" Reamann shouted. She looked up and shuddered. He was right. The looming black clouds were heading straight for them. Just then Dalton came on deck to see what all the commotion was about. Joe too came up to find her, and agreed with her assessment of the situation. "She's right, they need help. Someone has to go up there, but not you, Emer. I'll go get them down."

"Don't be silly, Joe, there are two of them. I'm coming too!" She began to scramble upwards like an agile monkey. Reamann shouted, "No, Emer, come back! You'll all be killed!" Dalton moved forward to try to stop her, but his cry of reprimand was lost on the gathering wind. Emer got up to the crow's nest with little difficulty, but once she saw the condition of Fred and Charlie up close, she knew getting them down was going to be no easy task. They were bleary eyed, light-headed, and Fred was inclined to fight her every step of the way. "You have to come down, now! The storm will blow you out of here like a feather. Come on, Fred, you must try to help me!" Fred grinned at her inanely. "But it's lovely up here. Look at that view." "Fred! Charlie! Listen to me. You have to come down now, captain's orders!" Joe commanded in his sternest tones. "I can't do it," Charlie mumbled. "I can't see." "Joe and I are right here. We'll help you, only you must hurry," Emer reassured them, tugging on Fred's shirt. Charlie was willing to try to descend by himself, but Fred struggled, clinging onto the rail of the crow's nest, until finally Emer lost patience and spat, "Do you want to die?!"

"No, but I can't do it. I'm too scared!" Fred blubbered. Emer's anger abated when she saw the genuine terror in Fred's eyes, and said more calmly, "It's all right, I understand. You and I will do it together, then. You get on the shroud, and I'll be right behind you. I'll climb on behind you so you won't fall. Come on, the others will beat us down below for supper if we don't hurry." Dalton had to wait in an agony of suspense as Emer and Fred made painfully slow progress down one rope rung of the shroud at a time. Joe fared no better, for Charlie missed his footing more often than not, and at one point not only lost his grip, but also knocked Joe off balance. Dalton choked back Emer's name, forcing himself to remain silent. He knew any lapse of concentration on her part might cause her to fall. He gasped for breath and clung tightly to the rails as he watched Joe hanging helplessly in midair. Emer looked over and saw Joe dangling from one hand on the underside of the ropes. Charlie himself was hanging upside down with one of his legs caught, and no way to cling on with his hands. She had to make a choice quickly. "Hang on tight. I'll be right back." Emer let go of Fred briefly while she moved over and grabbed Joe's wrist before scrambling back up the shroud a few rungs so she could pull him up through to the right side of the shroud again. Once Emer was certain that Joe was safe, she called, "Hang on Fred, I won't be long," and clambered down

to grab Charlie by his shoulders and pull him to a sitting position on the ropes. Then she got his hands back on the rungs firmly. By that time Joe had recovered sufficiently to help him the rest of the way down. Emer made her way back to Fred hand over hand, and inch by inch they descended to the rails. She gripped Fred's arm tightly as he managed to put his feet on the rail, but then began to sway. Emer, terrified of him falling overboard, jumped the rest of the way and landed on top of Fred, where they teetered over the side for a moment before Emer lunged forward, and they both tumbled safely onto the deck. "Emer, thank God!" Dalton cried as he moved forward to hug her. Emer, having had the wind knocked out of her, could say nothing, but she shoved her way out of his embrace angrily to go check on Fred. Once safely on the solid wooden planks, Fred had began to weep, and just then, the impending storm finally released its fury, pelting down rain like a waterspout. "You saved me, Emer, and after what I did to you as well. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I'll tell the captain the truth now," Fred cried above the thunderous rain thrumming on the deck as he pulled Emer into his arms. "What, and get a beating yourself? Forget it, Fred. I already have." Jim Beckett and Patrick Bradley came up now to take the two sunstroke sufferers away.

Joe pulled Emer to her feet and held her tightly. "I thought I was done for when I slipped. You've saved my life again, Emer." "Think nothing of it, Joe. That's what friends are for." "I always pay my debts. " He stooped to kiss her, and then headed for the crew's quarters to get dry. Dalton continued to stand off to one side in the hopes of getting near enough to Emer to tell her how he really felt. "Emer, I need to speak to you in my cabin now," Dalton heard himself say through parched lips as he stared at her like a man possessed. "But, sir, there's no point, it's all been said...." Emer began to protest, not wishing for another argument with him after all she had just been through. "I'll give you five minutes to finish whatever chores you have to attend to. But if you aren't in my cabin at the end of those five minutes, I'm going to come looking for you!" Dalton threatened gruffly, his golden eyes glittering like topazes as the rain ran down their faces in rivulets. "Aye, sir." Emer saluted him sarcastically. She headed went below to put out food for the men and bank down the fires. Visiting the captain's cabin, she did the same there, all the while stalling for time. She was undecided as to whether or not she should obey Dalton's terse command and go see him.

Emer dallied for ten minutes, deliberately trying Dalton's patience. In the end curiosity and the need to see him again got the better of her. Still dripping in her soaking clothes, Emer went below and tapped at the stateroom door. "You're late!" Dalton barked as he flung open the door roughly. "Chores, sir," Emer lied. "Get in here now, and take that towel to dry yourself before you catch your death," Dalton demanded, practically throwing the cloth at her. He silently paced the room like a caged animal as she did as she was told. Finally Emer looked up at him inquiringly. "You wanted to see me, sir," Emer asked coldly, as she stood in front of him with her back stiff, and a wary look in her aqua eyes. "I want.... I need.... Oh hell, Emer," Dalton groaned as he pulled her to him and kissed her until she was breathless. At first Emer struggled, not willing to be toyed with as she had been before, her hurt at his rejection still painfully keen in spite of the fact that she hadn't laid eyes on him for more than a few seconds in the past few days. But as Dalton's kiss deepened, her blood began to stir, and she felt her hands rise up to imitate his caresses as they ran their fingers through each other's hair. They pulled closer together, fitting their bodies intimately into each other's, almost as though they were two halves of the same whole.

Dalton lifted his lips and murmured against her mouth, "God, Emer, I nearly died when I saw you up there. I've been such a fool, and I've treated you dreadfully. "You were right from the start. I am scared of you. I can't promise you anything except the here and now, but for however long this voyage lasts, I want to be with you night and day, side by side. "I've lied to you about how I feel, in the hope of protecting you, but this is the absolute truth. I can't be as noble as I'd like. I want you, damn it, even if in the eyes of the world this is all wrong," he confessed openly as he planted hot kisses along her cheek, and down the slender column of her throat. Then he lifted his lips and risked looking into her eyes, which he saw were heavy with what he dared hope was passion. "But the choice is yours, Emer. I won't force you, you know that. You can still walk away now, Emer, and if you know what's good for you, you will." Emer stared at Dalton, stunned. She raised one small hand and held his chin still as she searched his face for the truth. His confession was so incredible. Dalton had treated her for the past few days almost as though he hated her. It was difficult to bring herself to trust him. But the longing for her burning in Dalton's golden eyes, coursing through his body as he held her tightly to him, was blazingly apparent. At length she smiled softly and ran her finger along his lips sensually. "Thank you for the generous offer of escape, but I want you Dalton. I think I always have."

She stretched up then to kiss him back with all the imagination her mind could conjure up. She opened her own mouth, and parted his lips with her tongue. The throbbing in Dalton's head and loins swept all reason aside as he tugged her trousers off, and then removed his own. He entered Emer quickly, and in spite of her surprise at the suddenness of his arousal, she was ready for him. Arching her back and crying out his name, they both climaxed together almost instantaneously. When Dalton finally quietened, he began to chuckle. "God, I feel like a callow youth with my first woman when I'm with you. All sanity and any romantic finesse I might possess vanishes completely." Emer smiled as she held him tightly, savouring the weight of his body on top of hers. "I haven't any complaints, Dalton. It's the same for me too, or hadn't you noticed?" "Well, what it lacks in skill, it makes up for in feeling. I've missed you, more than words can say, my dear," Dalton sighed, as he turned onto his side, taking her with him. Cradling her head on his arm, he began to stroke her back and trace the curve of her from breast to waist down to her hip. He holds me like he's never going to let me go, Emer reflected, but she didn't dare voice the thought aloud. It would seem too intimate somehow. So she just grinned and said, "I missed you too, but I should think you already knew that from my response to you just now."

"God, and now I'm going to have to let you go back up to do your chores," Dalton groaned, and kissed her until she was breathless. "We can hear the captain if he shouts all hands," Emer replied as she snuggled up closer to Dalton in the bunk, determined to stay and savour their time alone together. She caressed his midriff, then thigh, and kindled the flames of his passion anew. "I can't think of the last time I got to spend a rainy day in bed, can you?" His eyes lit with hope and desire. "Do you mean it? Can you stay?" She smiled. "I can stay, but I think we'd better lock the doors just in case." Dalton rose to do as Emer had suggested, and then brought a glass of brandy back to the bed with him, which they sipped together out of the same glass. Their lips met as they savoured the fine liquor and each other. "Emer, I'm sorry about...." "Sush, Dalton, don't spoil it by reminding me of the past few horrible days. I can see why you did it, thinking you could protect me, but I'm a grown woman. I make my own decisions. I want you. Nothing matters except the here and now, the way you make me feel when we're like this together," Emer breathed against his lips, and reaching down to stroke his already hammering loins. He put down the glass with a clink and rolled her over on her back with the most passionate abandon.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR Fortunately for the lovers, the storm didn't abate as rapidly as it had come. They were able to snatch a few precious hours together in Dalton's cabin, giving in to the sensuality they had fought so hard to keep in check. Emer suppressed any of Dalton's attempts to converse with her, for what they shared seemed to Emer to go beyond words. She didn't want to spoil it by arguing with him or allowing Dalton to attempt to analyse his feelings. She craved only the pure joyous sensations of being made love to by Dalton. Emer knew he had some feelings for her, but was not yet ready to face up to the seriousness of them. That it was love she was fairly certain. But though he was so much older, Dalton was far more inexperienced in that area of human emotion than herself. Emer could see he had never allowed anyone to get too close to him before, so she couldn't blame him for being frightened. As magically passionate as their interlude was, Emer knew she couldn't stay in the cabin forever, much though she would have wished to. "I have to go now," Emer breathed, kissing him lingeringly before rising from the bed and disappearing into the watercloset to have a quick wash and then get dressed. Dalton pulled her back down on the bed when she came out, and murmured, "Visit me later, please?"

"If I can, I will," Emer promised. With a last lingering kiss he released her, and lay back in his bunk with a sigh. With a small wave Emer and appreciative look at his stunningly handsome physique, she let herself out of the stateroom, shutting the door softly behind her. Dalton sighed, and lay moodily in the bed inhaling the fresh clean scent of Emer left on his pillow. Though she had only just left him, already Dalton missed Emer's warmth dreadfully. He ought to have hated himself for giving in to his desires again so rampantly after only two days, but the fact of the matter was, he had never felt more alive in his life. Every touch, every kiss, set the blood throbbing in his veins. It was as though he had been sleep-walking through life until he'd met the lovely auburn beauty with eyes as fathomless as the sea. He had done nothing but seek endless rounds of pleasure in his travels, and found nothing but disappointment. How ironic that at the moment he had given up all hope of happiness and resigned himself to returning to Canada, he had met a rare woman who embodied bliss and all that was beautiful in the world. He buried his head in the pillow, clinging to the last remants of warmth her slender, supple body had left behind, and let the ship rock him to sleep, to dream of all they had shared, and all he had begun to dare to hope for in his newly awakened and now optimistic heart, which had hungered for love, and at last found a taste of it.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE After another incredible night in Dalton's arms, Emer rose drowsily as the four o'clock watch came off. With a final kiss on Dalton's lips as he slumbered peacefully, Emer returned to her cabin. Emer washed and put on her Sunday best. The dress lifted her spirits and offering up a prayer of thanks for all she had found, as well as a prayer for all the loved ones she had lost. She was excited for Cara, but worried too. Yet Reamann was intent upon the wedding now that he had made up his mind, and so she also prayed for a long life filled with happiness for them both as she worked. Marriage. It seemed such a vast undertaking, especially when they had no idea what even the next hour at sea would bring. They had been tossed and buffeted by the winds of fate so much already. But what could anyone do except keep a weather eye for storm clouds, and trust to fate? She also offered up a prayer that the tempests between she and Dalton were over now. There was nothing she treasured more than their peaceful yet

passionate times together. The prospect of being able to wake up by his side for the rest of her life was not something she ever dared think about, but all the same, a little spark of hope flared in a corner of her heart and there she treasured it. She and Dalton might be from different classes, but she was well educated and hard-working. He was a businessman, who had to manage investments, she had no doubt, to make his money, but surely he would benefit from a partner at his side who was well-educated and presentable, and not afraid of hard work? With that happy thought, she rolled up her sleeves and got started on her chores. After cooking a huge breakfast for the crew and the steerage passengers, and several pots of soup and stew, she went below to the hold to see how the passengers had fared during the night. She learned that another six people had died from Kilbracken, and been buried in the night as the heat in the hold increased due to the scorching summer weather. Emer checked on a few of the other very serious cases, and then returned to her family. She examined her father in the sunlight which shone down into the hold, and noticed worriedly that he was looking feverish. "Come children, we must bear up. The fate of all these people in the hands of God now, and we don't want to spoil Cara and Reamann's special day," Liam coaxed, as he took Cara's hand and twirled her around to admire her simple pink gown. "You look as pretty as picture, child. Very like your mother on her wedding day. God, that takes me back a few years," Liam sighed.

Then he simply sat on the bunk wearily and waited for the family to get ready. "Are Cormac and Martin coming too?" Cara asked softly. "They're already waiting on deck for you. I reckon they're more excited about this than you are, Cara. I think they were beginning to wonder if we were all going to end up a bunch of old maids," Emer joked despite her worries over her father's yellowish tinge, and the fact that he kept clutching his stomach. Suddenly Brona appeared from behind the curtain with a rather frail, but washed and formally dressed Michael Molloy. "We have something we would like to say to you all," Brona announced suddenly. "Michael and I have talked about it sensibly, Father, and if you and Reamann wouldn't mind very much, Cara, we should like to be wed today as well." The rest of the Nugent family gaped in astonishment at the pair. Michael said hastily, before anyone could argue, "I know it seems a bit sudden, sir, but I've admired Brona for a long time from afar, and I would like to wed her now, before we get to Canada. "I have a fine property waiting for me that my uncle bought on the frontier, near the mountains, and I want matters settled between us in case, well, in case I don't make it across. I don't want Brona, or any of the rest of you for that matter, ending up homeless and destitute." "Really, Michael, it's very generous of you to be concerned about our welfare, but really, marriage is such a huge step--" Liam began to protest.

But Brona cajoled her father with a hug and declared, "Please, I do love him. Let us have your blessing." Emer, stunned and slightly envious, bit back her comment about Brona managing to marry well just like she had always intended, and said instead, "Well, hurrah, a double wedding. You don't mind, do you, Cara?" "Not at all," she said, giving both sisters a kiss. "Brona and Michael are right. We have to seize the day, and every ounce of happiness that comes our way, for there's sure to be plenty of sorrow soon enough." Emer patted Cara on the back, and put her arm around Brona. "Then come on, let's go up there and show the rest of those people just what a fine family we have." She checked over Brona's green gown one last time to make sure she looked clean and tidy, and then helped her father up the ladder as the others followed along behind. Cormac, Martin, Garvan and Oran were all waiting to the right of the makeshift altar the captain had thoughtfully had the carpenter and Martin put up. The children all filed on deck with Cathan to watch their two pretty aunties get married. Captain Jenkins was astonished at the news that he had two couples instead of one, but he agreed to perform both ceremonies. Once the vows were exchanged, and Cara's mother's gold ring was placed on her finger, and Michael's mother's ring on Brona's, Cormac set up three cheers, and there were many kisses and hearty congratulations all around. There was a small wedding feast afterwards with the food that Emer had prepared earlier that morning,

plus some cheese and crackers, bacon and ham, and the keg of brandy the Nugent family had brought with them. The musicians amongst the passengers who well enough to attend the festivities struck up a reel, and all the men had a turn dancing with the brides, including Dalton. There were songs sung, and tall tales told, and a great deal of mirth when Cara threw her garter according to tradition. Oran Dillon caught it from amongst the whole crowd of bachelors, setting off a great deal of giggling. There was an even bigger roar when Brona threw hers. It flew straight in Dalton's face, so that he was forced to catch it. He looked at Emer, and she blushed. Joe commented softly, "Perhaps it's a good omen. It's a pity we haven't got a bouquet or two to see which woman gets married next." "Knowing Sara Collins over there, she'd probably catch them both!" Emer jibed to cover her embarrassment. She pointed to the homely girl across the room who was looking at Joe with a predatory gleam in her eye. Though Emer enjoyed the wedding feast, she could see that her father and Michael were looking rather frail. She tried to stay close to her father's side, but at one point Dalton took her firmly by the hand and demanded, "Oh, no, Emer, you can't escape from me that easily." "Dalton, I can't dance with you like that, not in front of everyone. They'll guess about us for sure," Emer whispered frantically as she felt herself melt under his caressing hands.

Dalton grinned lazily as he pulled her into his arms and held her more tightly than was strictly necessary for the waltz. "Most of them probably know by now anyway. All we have to do is look at each other, and it's like shouting an open declaration at the top of our lungs." Emer became caught up in Dalton's spell as he laughed, teased, and led her around the floor dance after dance, until her head began to spin. Dalton was just about to stoop and kiss Emer's tempting ruby lips when there was a commotion on the foredeck, and someone shouted from aloft, "Land ho!" Everyone on the deck began to cheer. Everyone except Emer and Dalton. Emer blinked. The spell was broken. She could hear Dalton's thoughts almost as though he had spoken them aloud. They had arrived. He was home now. Their voyage together was nearly at an end. There would soon be nothing left between them but a cluster of sensual memories of their heated passion, a blissful moment in time, all too fleeting. It would all be over soon, too soon... Dalton released her from his dance hold and said quietly, "It will still take us time to get up the river. Then we have to go through quarantine procedures at Grosse Ile before they let us off the ship."

Emer nodded. "Another week or two, perhaps?" she asked quietly. He nodded. "Perhaps three, depending and wind and weather and the authorities. But it's all yours, Emer. You have only to say." Emer sighed, her sparkling mood fizzling out abruptly as her heart filled with dread. "I have things to do now, Dalton, but I'll come and see you later, if I may." Dalton stroked her hand sensually before putting it to his lips, his tongue sending shivers up and down her arm. "I shall eagerly await your visit, my dear." Dalton returned to his cabin with a heavy heart. In only a few more days, he would be home, and back in the rigid strait-jacket his father imposed upon him. Back in the cold, soulless house his father had actually named after himself, Frederickton, such was his arrogance. Back to being alone, even in a room full of people, for no one knew him, only what he represented, wealth, power, privilege. Back to a life without love, for no one in his world would ever understand or forgive him marrying so far below his station. He wasn't sure what would be worse in their minds, the fact that she was a governess, or the fact that she was Irish. For some, most likely the latter, and there was nothing to be done about it. Ireland was as much a part of Emer as the air she breathed. The trouble was, she was beginning to feel just as much a part of him. He thought again of the two happily wedded couples, and for a moment, he almost went back on deck to

find Emer, and ask Captain Jenkins to marry them as well. But no, he was far too old for such youthful folly. And far too unsure of himself and her for such an irrevocable step. He might have been under her sensual spell for the past few weeks, but the real world, his world, lay only a few miles away up the Gulf of St Lawrence. And it was not a place where Emer could follow. He sighed heavily and went into the gallery, where he sat at the desk and drew out paper, pen and ink. The real world beckoned. His fantasy life with Emer was over. It was time to work on his report regarding the Pegasus to his father, no matter what the consequences. And consequences there would be for certain, he knew. His main challenge would be to tell the truth to his domineering father, and try to do something to relieve the immense suffering he had experienced first-hand. Ignorance was not an excuse he could take refuge in any longer. Emer had opened up a whole new world to him. While he could never be part of it, any more than she could be part of his, he was determined to make the most of his life, of every day, just as Emer did. She laughed, loved, and met each day with the kind of courage he only wished he possessed. His life would be barren and desolate without her, but even on the most stony ground, seeds could sprout and grow. They might never be able to see each other again after the ship docked, but for the sake of the love he felt for Emer, he was determined to live by her brave example. He squared his shoulders, lifted his pen, and began his report. Every pen stroke felt like he was

committing the ultimate betrayal, but he was unable to see any other way forward into the future... Emer returned to her duties, knowing that while one part of her family's voyage had ended, her challenges were just beginning. Brona and Cara were now married. Her formerly strong clan had dwindled to a shadow of what it had once been. Canada was a strange new land, and she was no nave fool. She and Dalton would have to part company soon. She felt as though her heart was going to crack in her chest at the prospect of having to say farewell to the man she was sure was the love of her life, the partner of her soul. But as much as she longed to cherish their love, it was foolish to cling to hope. Her passionate lover had offered her no promises other than their kisses and caresses, and she had asked for none. She knew the way the world worked. A man in his position in society could offer nothing respectable to a penurious emigrant governess without raining censure down on his head. She only prayed that their burning hunger for one another had not left her with a child to worry about in addition to all her cares and responsibilities. Her own status in society was low enough now without having that burden to bear too. If circumstances had been different, we could have wed today as well, Emer thought with a sigh. If I had been slightly more wealthy and well-born, and he less so. But then, if that had been the case, they most likely never would have met. In only a few days, they would be in port. As difficult as life had been aboard the ship, all their needs had

been met readily enough. Now they would have to negotiate a strange city, in a strange land. They would need to secure food, lodgings, and employment as soon as possible. What was to become of them all, especially the ill and the children? It didn't bear thinking about. Yet it was all Emer could think about as she spotted a craggy rock in the distance. It was an apt metaphor for her relationship with Dalton. It could shelter you for a time, even save you from shipwreck, but it couldn't sustain. It was barren and desolate, and could dash you to pieces in an instant. She had hungered for love and seen that need in Dalton. But unlike herself, he wasn't prepared to undulge in the full banquet. He was more than content to dine on one or two dishes, and leave the rest untouched. He lacked the courage to reach out and take what he wanted, to partake of his fill, and also lacked the courage to change. Emer, on the other hand, wanted it all. She hungered for a man who loved her body and soul, and was prepared to meet life and love head on, not cower from it when it became difficult, as it inevitably would. Emer knew Canada would be fraught with many challenges, but she prayed she would have the strength to meet them head on. Parting from Dalton would be one of the hardest things she had ever done in her life. It would be like ripping the heart from her body, but do it she must, for all their sakes. Her hunger for love had brought her to Canada safely. Now her heart's hunger would have to remain unsatisfied, as her family's hunger became her main responsibility.

And it was a responsibility she could never shirk no matter how much she loved Dalton Randolph, and yearned for him with every fiber of her being. Emer lifted her mop and bucket, and taking one last glimpse of the rapidly approaching Canadian shore, headed belowdecks with a heavy heart. Don't miss the second volume of The Hunger of the Heart Series, The Hungry Heart, also available from HerStory Books: http://www.HerStoryBooks.com Historical Note: Though Emer and her family are fictional, all the details of the famine, their voyage, and life on board the coffin ships are taken from many first-hand accounts of the Famine and its resultant suffering. The sources quoted in the text, where mentioned, are accurate, and the texts are the originals. Any readers looking for further information can consult Robert Whyte's The Famine Ship Diary, 1847, Mercier Press, Dublin: 1994; The Great Hunger, Cecil Woodham Smyth, Hamish Hamilton, London: 1962; and The Great Famine: Studies in Irish History, 18451852, edited by R. Dudley Edwards and T. Desmond Williams, The Lilliput Press, Dublin: 1994. These are just a few of the excellent books available regarding this most tragic event. As for the poetry, I hope you enjoyed my choices; it is the Renaissance literature and history scholar in me bursting out every so often. Until next time, here's wishing you bliss! The Editors HerStory Books