A Distant Dream Read Online Free Page B

Clarence, tears beginning to fall as Molly stared up at the ship, which must have looked like a big brown monster to her.
    â€œAnd yer will do one day,” he lied, picking her up along with his bag, and walking forward, as they followed a crew man who had loaded their trunks on each of his shoulders and was walking ahead. “But today we’re going for a sail in the
Bessie Belle.
”
    The sound of chattering and excited babbling could be heard from the quayside, as the passengers were directed to descend the ladder to the deck below. Clarence looked back as seven young girls and one more mature looking one, rattled up the gangplank noisily.
    â€œWait at the top, girls”, the one who seemed to be in charge shouted. “Best behaviour or you’ll be thrown in the brig by the captain.”
    Clarence grinned at her sauciness, then followed the others into the gloom below. The
Bessie Belle
had been pressed into service as a passenger ship, after its owner, a wealthy shipping agent, had decided it would be more lucrative to carry people than the bales of wool that he normally had carried to the mills of Lancashire. Thus, the hold had been converted by attaching rough planking around its walls. If the voyagers felt dismay as their feet landed at the bottom of the wooden ladder, because of the rancid odour that still lingered, they didn’t show it. Soon, when the hold was fit to bursting with humanity, the sound of the anchor being lifted met their ears. They were silent as the ship slipped its harbour moorings and headed out into the choppy waters of the Garavogue River. It was as if the passengers were holding their collective breath. Then one by one a comment was made, a conversation started, a wrap of sandwiches crackled or there was the sound of a bottle stop being opened.
    Bessie, having been given a basket of food by Sara, with enough to last the family a couple of days if they didn’t make pigs of themselves, brought out some bread, a lump of cheese, a bag of biscuits and a stone bottle filled with a homemade lemon drink. She laid it on a white table square, in the bit of space created on the planking by putting Molly on Clarence’s knee. The feast was eyed by one of the girls, who Bessie assumed, from the similar dark grey dresses that all of the seven nearby were wearing, came from an orphanage. She smiled and opening up the paper bag that held the biscuits, she offered one to her.
    â€œNo” said a sharp voice nearby, making Bessie jump, as if the person thought she was about to poison the young girl.
    â€œShe mustn’t, I am sure you wouldn’t have enough to spare for the others.”
    â€œSorry,” Bessie mouthed to the youngster and put the biscuits back in her bag. They could wait for a while until they were out onto the ocean.
    â€œI’ll go up on deck now that we’ve cleared the harbour,” Clarence said, staring sympathetically at a woman who had just been sick and was clearing up the mess as best she could. “Somebody has to keep an eye to Molly, so I’ll smoke my pipe then come back down again.”
    Others followed his example, no doubt waiting for the smell of sick to disappear.
    â€œAre yer bound for Adelaide?” He asked a man who appeared to be in his mid-thirties and was staring out across the ocean, seemingly weighted down with the troubles of the world on his narrow shoulders.
    â€œThat I am,” he replied. “And you?” Clarence nodded, about to light his pipe, but a playful wind kept blowing his matches out so the man cupped his hands around the next match and Clarence was able to start his pipe.
    â€œGeorge Comayne,” the man took Clarence’s free hand in his and shook it. “Recently from Westport, but my wife and I have decided to seek a better life for us and our children.”
    â€œClarence Filbey. Me wife and I have a little girl called Molly. We had a farm, been in our family for