LAND IS SIGHTED
The next morning all the cabins on the boat looked as though a cyclone
had struck them. The cabins belonging to the girls from Lakeview Hall
were no exception.
"Bess, if we go on collecting things at this rate," Nan protested to her
friend, "we'll have to buy new luggage. Nothing short of a huge trunk
will hold everything."
"I know it," Bess laughed. "And it's so hard to throw anything away."
She was holding favors from the costume ball of the night before in her
hand. "I simply can't part with these."
The two girls were packing. It was very early in the morning, but the
boat was due to make its first stop shortly, and they wanted to be on
deck when land was sighted. "I can't part with these either," Nan held
up the limp bags of a half dozen balloons. "A handsome army officer got
them for me last night, by climbing up on a chair and pulling them by
their strings down from the ceiling."
"Wasn't the ballroom lovely, though?" Bess paused in her packing, while
she remembered the lights and the palms and the balloons and the other
decorations. Then she recalled all the people in fancy costume marching
around, dancing and singing.
"The nicest thing of all," Nan paused in her packing too, "was that
glass promenade through which you could see the stars and the sky
overhead. The moon was so big and full that no other lights were needed.
I shall never forget it--nor that quartet of sailors that sang all those
funny old sea ballads and then danced the hornpipe."
The girls laughed together at the recollection, and then busied
themselves in earnest. Nan kept the balloons for a couple of children
back in Tillbury whose idol she was. Bess kept the favors, because she
couldn't bear to throw them away.
Again and again, the ship's foghorn blasted the early morning quietness.
"I'm sure we must be almost in sight of land." Bess hurried faster.
"But the steward promised," Nan protested, "that he would tell us so
that we would be up on deck when land was sighted."
"You don't suppose he has forgotten?" Bess questioned.
"I don't think so," Nan was a little worried too. "But let's hurry and
get out of here. I wouldn't miss seeing Maureen off for anything."
"Oh, is she getting off here?" Bess took one last look around the cabin
to see whether she had all her belongings.
"Sure an' she's headed right for Dublin." Nan tried to give an Irish
turn to her sentence.
"You'll never see her again?" Bess was wide-eyed as it suddenly dawned
on her that they were saying good-by, perhaps forever, to their
shipboard acquaintances.
"Never say that," Nan unconsciously interpreted the lesson Hetty's
grandmother had taught so sweetly several days before. "You never know
when or where you will meet these people again. Have you kept many
addresses?"
"Oh, just dozens," Bess answered. "If I ever hear from a third of them
again, I'll be happy."
"I feel the same way," Nan agreed. "Only Maureen, Hetty and Jeanie have
all agreed to have tea with us in London. I knew you would all approve."
She looked up at Bess.
"Approve? Of course," Bess agreed. "Tea in London with Maureen, Hetty,
and Jeanie. Oh, I hope they won't forget."
"They won't," Nan said confidently, as she got up from her place on the
floor by her bags. "There, I'm all packed and ready for the steward to
come and put the tags on them. Are you?"
"Just a second--yes, I'm all ready, too, now." Bess closed hers. "Let's
go up on deck." So they went up and out, and saw, for the first time
while on the boat, the sunrise. The sky was full of promise for a bright
day.
Even as they watched the light breaking brighter and brighter, the
ship's whistle gave three loud blasts. There were three more from shore,
and Nan clutched Bess's arm. "See, there it is--Ireland, the coast of
Ireland. See the lights?"
"Sure an' 'tis me home," Maureen had come up behind them, "the grandest
place in all the world."
"What county is that?" Nan looked to Maureen for information.
"I'm not so certain," Maureen replied, "but I'm after thinking that
that's the coast of Donegal, and a lovelier spot you'll not find for
many miles. Beyond lies Londonderry and after that you'll be seeing
Portrush and then at last Belfast! It's beauty, beauty all the way.
"Your America, it's fine and grand with all its tall buildings and great
cities, but me heart is warm for Ireland. There me mother and father and
little brothers and sisters will be waiting. Oh, it's good to be back."
Maureen wiped tears from her eyes.
"Come, Maureen," Nan and Bess were close to tears too, for her pang of
homesickness had turned their own thoughts back to America. "Come, let's
go down into the dining room. Let's see if we can find one big table so
that we can all have this last breakfast together." As she finished
speaking, Nan tucked Maureen's arm through hers and started.
It was a merry breakfast and a sad one in the weird light of the dining
room, half daylight, half electricity. There were people glad to be home
and people sad to be parting from newfound friends. Breakfast was eaten
hastily, so that everyone was up on deck waving goodbyes, calling last
minute messages, urging care, and trying to joke, all in one breath, as
the great steamer settled to anchor and a small tender nestled up to it.
Maureen's dad, a burly looking Irishman with eyes of the deepest blue
and lashes long and heavy, came aboard and took her in his arms. "Sure
and 'tis good to have me baby home agin," he said. "And it's mighty fine
you're looking in that perky new bonnet." He pushed her straw hat up and
looked into her eyes. "And it's not changed a bit you are after all that
long journey," he added.
He turned to her friends, "And you'll not be comin' to Ireland this
trip?" He sounded genuinely disappointed. "But you'll be comin' back."
He smiled kindly down upon them all. "And then you'll be stoppin' here
and we'll be meetin' you and you'll be off to Dublin Town with the likes
of us."
Nan liked Maureen's father. So did her friends. As he and Maureen went
across the gang-plank to the tender, they all hung over the rail and
waved. "We'll be seeing you in London," Nan called.
"Don't forget," Bess followed suit, "it's tea in London in coronation
week."