Read Online Maggie's Door by Patricia Reilly Giff - Free Book Online

their berths on the
Samson,
the ship that would take them to America: Granda on top with the Caseys, Nory below with Patch and a girl named Lally who was going to be a maid in a great house in New York.
    That first night Nory drifted off to sleep thinking nothing could happen with Granda there. And hadn’t she always loved the sea? The ship would glide through it and at last she’d be in Brooklyn with everyone she loved.
Celia and Da twirling in the road.
How lovely to think of it.
    She wasn’t even that hungry. When they had boarded the
Samson
they’d been given food. A thin-faced boy with jug ears named Garvey had handed them bags of meal and biscuits.
    No matter that they’d waited in line for hours to cook the oatmeal on the passengers’ stove on the foredeck. No matter that all of it had been gone in moments and they had licked their fingers, wishing for another mouthful.
    One tiny bit of the meal was left on the side of Patch’s cheek. Nory had reached out with her finger to slide it into his mouth, then patted that cheek.
    “Is this the only food we will have for the whole voyage, your honor?” Nory asked the boy with the huge ears.
    Garvey plucked at his red shirt, looking important, but then he laughed. “I’m not your honor,” he said. “I’m just a steward—not even that, cook’s assistant. And there will be a little food in the morning. Every morning.” He’d leaned forward. “But the meal will be full of bugs.”
    What are a few wee mealy bugs?
she thought.
    “There will be stoves on the deck, not many, but you may be able to cook your meal.” He smiled, pulling at one ear. “And the wee bugs as well.”
    And then they were moving, with a terrible grinding. By morning there were other sounds that never stopped: so many people, women sighing, crying out in their sleep, babies wailing, one of them day and night, and poor Granda coughing. But the worst was the vomiting that went on and on.
    And once, just for the barest beat, the
Samson
seemed to pause in the waves, to lurch like a man with a cane. Patch, next to her, held her arm with a strength Nory couldn’t believe was his. “Are we sinking?” he asked, his teeth clenched.
    Nory was so terrified she couldn’t answer.
    “We are just out of the harbor,” Granda said. “It’s all right.”
    The next day Nory felt a lurch in her own stomach. The light was dim in the moving, rocking cabin; nothing was still. Everything had a terrible smell of old food, or old clothes, and someone must have been sick. Seasick, she told herself.
    She wouldn’t think about the slosh of water against the side of the ship, the smells, the swaying from side to side. She’d lie still so she wouldn’t wake Patch next to her; she’d try to stop rocking with the ship. Her forehead was filmy with sweat and her hands were damp. She was going to be sick too. But there was no place to be alone.
    She sat up, her head hitting the top of the bunk, and slid onto the floor. In one terrible moment she lost the food that Garvey had given them. A terrible burning was in her throat and a harsh wrenching noise came from deep inside her. And then Lally, the girl who shared her berth, was up and holding her forehead, gagging as she did it.
    “How long?” Nory asked when she could speak.
    “Forty days,” Lally said. “Maybe even longer.”
    Nory closed her eyes. Forty days was more than she could count.

FOURTEEN
    SEAN
    Enough to eat, a place to sleep. The rocking of the ship that made the passengers and even a few of the sailors ill didn’t bother Sean at all.
    He was used to the sea, to his brother’s currach. He remembered the roll of the waves, higher than any house in Maidin Bay, the rush of salt water slapping against the sturdy boat.
    Once he had even been swept out and under just outside the bay. He had opened his eyes to see a green world filled with bubbles, and then light as he came to the surface, gulping and choking, and felt Francey’s fingers grasping him