THE HIGH SEAS
The doctor and I had been alloted a stateroom together, but I was
subsequently given one down below, where I said Mass the first morning
and heard confessions every evening. The chief steward was a Catholic
and he was very kind. I had permission to say Mass in the second-class
saloon, which was the largest on the boat, and nearly all the men came
to Holy Communion. Our first Sunday out I said Mass for the lads below.
As I proceeded with the Mass the seas became very rough, so that the
book fell off the altar three times; the chalice, however, never moved.
Many became sick, and the Red Cross section was busy. On the first day
out we donned our cumbersome life-belts, which we wore all the way
across the Atlantic. I took mine off only while saying Mass. They hung
on the berths at night. During the day the men walked up and down the
upper deck; sometimes there were drills, etc. We saw no vessels. Every
day we plunged forward through rough seas, and in the afternoons, as I
sat in my little stateroom hearing confessions, I could hear the dull
pounding of the waves on the sides of the vessel.
I was very pleased with the example the Catholic officers gave the men.
Every one of them came to confession and Communion on the way over.
One, the old quartermaster, who was confined to his cabin with a severe
attack of _la grippe_, could not come to Mass with the others, so I
gave him Communion in his cabin towards the last of the voyage. The
second morning afterwards, however, as I walked back and forth making
my thanksgiving, I stopped quickly and peered out over the sea. I could
see very faintly, across the water, a long, serried line of hills that
looked greyish-blue in the early morning--the hills of Ireland! I ran
quickly to tell the quartermaster, who had been born in Ireland and
had still a true Irishman’s great love for his native land. He was not
there. I was surprised, as the doctor had told me that he had given
orders that he was not to leave his cabin till after we reached port.
As I went out on deck again I noticed, up forward, leaning over the
gunwale and looking towards Ireland, a great muffled figure. He wore
one khaki great coat, and another, thrown loosely about his shoulders,
gave him a hunched appearance. It was the quartermaster!
I went forward quickly: “Captain,” I said, “didn’t the doctor tell you
not to leave your stateroom till we docked?”
He didn’t say anything for a second or two, and I noticed a mist had
come into his eyes. Then he pointed far across the grey waste of
waters. “Ah, Father,” he said, “but there’s Ireland!”