I remember some other men on my ship staring longingly at the English coastline as we drifted away and muttering "God save the Queen" half-heartedly through chapped lips. Then there were those who turned their backs on the country the second they stepped onto the creaking wood of the ship, talking excitedly about leaving the Old World for the New, and more importantly their new lives. Lastly, there were me and a few others who cared little for either side. I would carry my English pride with me wherever I should go, but that didn't mean I was bound to that impoverished land where the rich fed off the poor and where Manchester coughed up clumps of black smog that choked the gray skies. But that didn't mean I was frothing with optimism over traveling to this new country either. From what I understood, land of opportunity or not, America was the land of the all-too-free and liberal egoism that was bound to get on my nerves. Still, my pride seemed to matter little when my stomach ached from hunger for food and my pocket book from hunger for money.
The clamor on the ship had begun to die down as more of the men retreated into their cabins and soon I was listening to the call and response of the waves slapping the base of the ship. I wrinkled my nose as the cool breezes nipped at my face which I imagine brought quite a shade of red to my skin. Once I'd wiped at my runny nose several times, I too gave in to the night and headed into the cabins.
The minute I threw open the flimsy door, I could hear some shouts and the clinking of rum bottles in the small warm bunks. The stench was enough to bat a few eyelashes at and I quickly climbed onto the small cot where I'd thrown my few bags earlier that today. I had just turned toward the wall to relax when someone jostled my shoulder. I ignored it until the action became repeated.
"Yes?" I asked my disturber.
"What's a young bloke like you heading to bed so early for?" His speech was slurred like the rhythm of the ship and his hot rank breath scorched my cheek.
"It's been a long day. I figured some rest would be good on my part."
"Rubbish! There's reason rightly to celebrate!"
"Aye!" a nearby Irishman called out.
"You'll be out of ale and rum before we even catch sight of the coast," I pointed out.
"It's o' no consequence! Once we reach America, I'll make money enough to buy all the bloody rum I want." A large wave shook the boat and he stumbled from the side of my cot.
"That depends on whether you're sober enough to even procure a job while you're there, git," I spat as he groped his way back to my bed.
"You're a clever-talking one! One of them high-end, educated fellows!" he jeered at me. Some of the other men responded by shouting small obscenities at me. The truth was that I probably had no more formal education than the others here, but rather I was taught much at home by my mother. I admit, it put me a little above most of the other people in my class, but I wasn't about to become arrogant about it.
"I'll drink to that tomorrow then. I'm not feeling it tonight." In truth, I didn't think my stomach could handle alcohol. I was a furniture craftsman by trade and had had little experience traveling on water. I cupped my hand around my abdomen and turned back toward the wall.
"Let 'im be, John. 'E's probably missin' some pretty girl he left behind in England."
"You must mean 'is mother!"
The cabin roared with laughter. I really didn't miss my mother because I hadn't seen her in years and God only knew there was certainly no woman of romantic interest in my life. My friends had told me how beautiful the American girls would be and how I'd instantly fall in love, but nothing of that sort interested me as much as securing a job for myself. Anything had to be better than the pathetic wages I'd been earning before.
"He's got reason to be scared," a Scot piped up. "Once we're there, he won't know a single bloke in the whole land and will have to start from scratch. Aye, it won't be easy."
The cabin quieted down at his words. He took a long drag from his cigarette and stared at the dirty floor, perhaps regretting his words.
That was the first and only time I ever felt any fear on that trip.
The rest of the voyage over went accordingly, give or take a few sicknesses among the passengers. Thankfully there was a practicing physician on board and the rest of were careful enough to avoid them until they were better. As I expected, the alcohol ran out well before we got there and the last leg of the journey was spent in a cranky, quiet and sober state. I could hardly complain about that. That mood, however, was instantly reversed the moment we could see the distant stretch of New York coastline approaching us.
The men hooted and hollered, husbands embracing children and kissing wives for those who brought their families along. The single men rejoiced as one while I kept my distance, not wanting to join in the foolishness. I simply couldn't act that way when sober.
To be honest, I was a little anxious about how the ship would be received, considering it was littered with Englishmen. The war both 70 years ago and the more recent one around 30 years ago hadn't been pleasant ones from what I've heard and I hardly wanted to enter a country full of hostile men. As the dock came more clearly into view, I left the deck to gather all of my things while the others continued cheering and yelling. I frowned a little at the single bag I'd brought with me, but I couldn't afford to bring another and frankly I hardly had anymore to bring as it was. The most precious cargo I was carrying, I figured, was the skill of my trade. That would subsequently bring me more belongings, or so I hoped.
I opened the bag and went through it quickly, making sure none of my wild bunk mates had taken anything from it, and that nothing had fallen out or been forgotten in another part of the ship. I was pleased to find everything in its place, namely my books. Heaven knows I would sorely miss those.
I peeked my head outside the cabins and saw the boat had reached the dock. I must admit that my heart started pounding from the realization that I'd actually arrived in the New World and that a brand new country was standing before me. I hastily grabbed my bag and rushed out onto deck, preparing to step back onto land after so many weeks.
It's embarrassing how much I had to control my breathing as I waited behind my shipmates to get off the boat. I both wanted to push them out of the way and rush onto the land and turn back around and go home to England. Somehow, I made it off the ship alright.
I came upon the Americans working the docks and immediately took a step back. I'd heard that the richer diet in this country had made them larger than the English, but I hadn't imagined it to be this much so. I was a small man as it was and this was easily intimidating. Afraid of harassment for my nationality, I tried not to make eye contact. However, it was they who approached me first.
"Welcome to America!" A large, calloused, and well-tanned hand clapped my shoulder. I stared down at it, fascinated, and finally looked up at the man. His face was darker than anyone I'd known and his accent made me smile a bit.
"Thank you so much, sir." I bowed politely. He flicked the top of my head. "What the-"
"You're not in England anymore, son! You're in America now! We believe in equality here. You're free now!"
My first instinct would usually have been to come up with some cynical retort about having too much enthusiasm or the irony of being in a free country that instituted slavery in its southern parts, but I was in New York after all, where there were no slaves and where opportunity was supposedly abundant. So, instead I smiled up at him and slowly laughed.
Welcome to America indeed.