March 1837
The ship creaked and swayed as Nicholas and his family boarded it, bags in hand and spirits dwindling. It was a blisteringly chilly morning in March when their voyage began, America bound. They were not alone in their passage, as it seemed to Nicholas that hundreds of other families crowded onto the boat's deck. So much so that Nicholas feared the boat would surely break if any more people got on.
Stacks of barrels and crates lined the docks, making the perfect resting place for birds and rats. Large nets hoisted a good majority of the cargo onto the ship, unintentionally bringing the rats with them. Men with push-carts rolled along the side of the ship, selling last-minute wares to boarding passengers for the journey. Nicholas had so wanted something warm to drink, as the chill stung him to the bone. But his father insisted that they hadn't enough money to throw away on such needless expenses. After all, he said, they would need to save their money for when they got off the boat.
If they got off the boat, his mother thought wearily.
Nicholas watched the sailors scurrying down ropes and ladders, and several of them took up the gangplank as the last of the passengers came aboard. It was then that he knew there was no going back. His family was leaving Ireland for good. Leaving behind his grandmother and aunts and uncles. Though young Nicholas was only four-years-old, he understood that he wouldn't likely see any of his relatives again.
He watched the other Irish families, much like his own, crowd together as they waved goodbye to those on the land. Some were cheerful in spirits, and others were sobbing. Nicholas hadn't wanted to leave in the first place. Although, the decision was of course not up to him. He filed in line with his brothers and sisters, each clutching a small sack holding their clothes and a few precious belongings. Nearly all of their furniture was left behind, along with most of the children's toys and all the family's animals.
Unlike most of the passengers, Nicholas's family were Protestants, and that made the difference among the others who were predominantly Catholic.
His family had booked passage for America on what seemed like a whim. Though Nicholas's mother was from Belfast, his father came from Cornwall and had become involved with a group of Northern Irish who were loyal to the king. One such man in that group had been killed for taking the side of the English, and another's house was set on fire, killing him and his entire family. After that, Nicholas's father and mother had decided it was time to go.
Birds squawked and screeched overhead under the unusually bright sun as Nicholas leaned over the side of the boat to look over.
"Go on," Nicholas could hear his father's low voice behind him as he ushered his family to move more quickly onto the deck. He took off his hat and ran a tired hand through his sweat-saturated hair. "Pick up your feet now."
Nicholas's mother was just behind his father, carrying two-year-old Thomas in her arms - Nicholas's only younger sibling.
"Why was I cursed to have such a brood of ungrateful little beggars?" His father muttered, and Nicholas saw his mother's expression fall as he said this. "Sure America doesn't need any more of your kind. Should have smothered you when I had the chance."
Nicholas turned and stared up at his father, trying to make sense of his words. But there was no making sense of them. He and the rest of his family had become accustomed to Edward Saul's hateful ramblings. Nicholas wondered why he had married his mother in the first place, or why he had even stuck around long enough to raise Nicholas and his siblings. He was certain that without his father, the family would be a lot happier. But he was also certain that the family would also be in financial trouble if his father decided to abandon them. It was an odd paradox, but there it was.
His mother, Mary-Kate Saul, set young Tommy down onto the ship so she could take a rest. Nicholas saw her sway from exhaustion, clutching the side of the boat before colliding audibly against the floor of the ship. This turned a few heads from the noise, and Nicholas's father was quick to offer his words of disgust.
"Clumsy woman!" He roared, striking her face with the back of his hand and sending her sprawling as she cried out.
All Nicholas could do was watch as his mother struggled to stand with the help of one of his older sisters, Pauline, who was the eldest at fourteen. He felt his other sister, twelve-year-old Margaret, take his hand in hers and Tommy's as she walked them toward the opposite side of the ship so they could look over the edge without feeling so crowded. Tommy was hoisted up by Margaret so he could see the water, and Margaret pointed out the different boats that were anchored in the harbor.
Beth, who was nine-years-old, lifted Nicholas up for a better view of the Irish Sea, and Nicholas asked how cold she thought the water to be.
"Oh, freezing I would imagine," Beth replied, her red braid toppling over her shoulder as she stared down into the water. "It's no water for swimming in, I will lay."
"Then I should not like to fall overboard," Nicholas said quietly, giving his older sister a decidedly serious expression as if in warning. Beth laughed and said she would not allow that to happen. And if he somehow did manage to do so, she would immediately dive in after him.
As Beth set Nicholas back down, he turned and saw Pauline helping their mother with the carpet bags. "You should sit down, love," Their mother urged Beth, placing a steady hand on the young girl's back. "You don't look well."
Mary-Kate Saul, who had left her own mother back in Belfast after many a sorrowful goodbye, adjusted her daughter's bonnet to shield the sun and pulled her woolen shawl tighter around her shoulders. "I am not feeling myself at all," Beth mumbled as Pauline took a carpet-bag from her hands to ease her balance. "I don't know what ails me."
"Do you think you are sick, Beth?" Pauline asked, taking the back of her hand and placing it against her sister's forehead. " rather warm."
Nicholas watched as his mother grew quiet for a moment, looking down at the water and then back at the people on the docks. " changed my mind. I don't want to go. It's not worth the trouble if you are ill," she said suddenly, beginning to turn away from the side of the ship. Pauline and Margaret stopped her, steadying her movements and speaking softly to her. Beth brought Nicholas and Tommy below decks before any more of a disturbance could be caused.
The crowded quarters below the deck were crowded, dark, and filthy. It reeked of human and animal waste, and the ship rocked unsteadily, throwing people from one side to the other. Nicholas wondered when he would see the light of day next. It seemed too crowded to be sanitary, especially with the chickens and dogs running around, not to mention the rats. Margaret once awoke screaming because a rat was nesting near her hair.
Water poured in from the holes in the floorboards above, drenching the cramped quarters with sea water. There were people vomiting in buckets from sickness, and babies crying so loudly that Nicholas couldn't hear himself think.
Pauline sat on one of the rickety beds that were bunked one on top of the other. She held Margaret, Nicholas, and Tommy close, while their mother sat with Beth in another bed.
When cholera and typhus broke out among the passengers, Beth was one of the unfortunates to catch the latter. Nicholas watched as his mother helped Beth to her feet and held a bucket for her to vomit in. He felt his stomach churn and wanted nothing more than to be the ship.
Nicholas got up and slowly made his way over to his mother and older sister, pushing his way through the crowded path. His father had spent most of the voyage drunk and of no use. It seemed no one in the family knew where he was at any given time. And the boat was so rocky from the storms and so crowded with sickness that they hadn't bothered to look for him.
There were men fighting over something in the corner, throwing punches at one another before both were knocked down by a gush of water that washed in from above decks. Rats and fleas were infesting the waste buckets. The groans from the children and adults alike as the boat swayed relentlessly back and forth, violently tossing passengers, made Nicholas wish they had stayed in Ireland.
There was a Reverend on board who read scripture and lead the others in hymns. It seemed to do little to raise their spirits.
Nicholas sat by Beth's side as she coughed non-stop, lying on the hard wooden bed in damp clothes. "It hurts, Ma," she cried as their mother sat stroking her hair back. "It hurts right here." She pointed to her abdomen, wincing from the pain. "A-and me back feels like it's being poked with a knife."
When the ship doctor examined her, he pointed out the dull-red rash on her stomach that had begun to spread down her legs. "She has a high fever, to be sure," the doctor stated as Mary-Kate looked at him worriedly and then back down at her daughter.
Beth began coughing a dry, hacking-like cough. "My head aches every time I cough," she sobbed, holding her own head, her eyes watering. "I have been coughing so much. Surely my head will explode."
"I doubt if it will come to that," the doctor confirmed. He looked to Mary-Kate. "She's experiencing bodily pain, is she? Frequent nausea is typical of sea-sickness."
"Her forehead's all but burning," Mary-Kate fussed, feeling her daughter's forehead, the doctor doing the same. "But she says she's cold as an ice box."
"Keep her as warm as you can," the doctor advised, pulling the ragged blanket back up on the girl. "If she succumbs any further, she could become delirious."
"Can't we take her above decks?" Mary-Kate asked. "To get some fresh air and stretch her legs?"
"No, her eyes will be too sensitive. Besides, I am sure the captain would like to contain any diseases to down here. If the crew falls ill, the ship might be in peril."
"Well, what can we do?"
The doctor shook his head, staring regretfully at Mary-Kate. "Her blood pressure is too low for her to stand." He stood coughing slightly and covering his nose and mouth with a cloth smelling of oranges. "The stench down here is enough to floor an ox," he remarked, taking his bag and hurrying back up the ladder.
Beth lay in the bed, coughing and breathing ragged-like as her mother fretted and went to fetch another bundle of rags to keep her warm. Nicholas silently curled up besides Beth, snuggling against her shivering, thin form. "Is that you, Nicholas?" She asked in a hoarse whisper, giving a small smile as she turned to face her little brother.
Nicholas looked up at her, concern in his big baby-blue eyes. "I don't want you to be sick," he said quietly.
"Then I must stop immediately," she teased, laughing between her coughs. "After all, I have to recover if I am to set foot in America."
Nicholas took her larger hand in his smaller one, squeezing it and burrowing himself against her frozen body to warm her, hoping that would be enough.
She died anyway.
Nicholas sat up the next morning when he noticed his sister staring at him in the dim light of the day. Her eyes were wide open, her mouth closed and her muscles stiff. He felt her hand still in his, and it was colder than ever. "Ma!" He called, his voice shaking from the tears. "Ma!"
In less than an hour, the Saul family was above decks, saying goodbye to Beth as her body was laid out on a narrow plank, her eyes turned shut. Each sibling placed a kiss on her cheek, Pauline and Margaret sobbing with their mother. Tommy was too little to understand that Beth was gone forever, and Nicholas couldn't find it in himself to cry as he felt his father's sober glare on his back.
The Reverend stood near, reading out of his Bible as a few sailors took off their hats out of respect for the young girl. Beth's corpse was wrapped in a cloth sack, and heavy chains were placed around her legs and middle. At the Reverend's nod, the sailors dumped the body overboard, making a splash in the waves below.
Nicholas walked to the edge, looking over as Beth slowly disappeared under the steady rock of the sea. Once he was alone below decks, and his family had gone to sleep, Nicholas sat in a corner and cried silently, drawing his knees toward his chest.
When the ship finally docked in New York, Nicholas followed his father off the boat and onto the crowded pier. It felt refreshing to finally breathe fresh air that wasn't foul or full of disease. He looked up as nets carrying furniture and barrels were being lowered onto the docks by sailors.
The sky was cloudy, and the air was damp, promising rain. Thousands of people were hurrying off the ships, pooling onto the docks and shuffling along. Pauline kept a tight grip on Nicholas's hand, her other one carrying a one of the bags. Margaret held little Tommy as their mother followed behind.
Stacks of burlap sacks and barrels full of goods and imports lined the walls of the shipyards. Several ill passengers were huddled against there as well, too sick to move. Several of the dead were brought off the boats on planks, covered with cloth to hide their post-mortem expressions.
The people of New York seemed to be diverse in appearance and language, something that was strange to Nicholas, having not been accustomed to seeing such vibrance of culture.
Following the docks, the road was a mix of mud and cobblestone, and it was easy to step off the paved street and sink one's feet in the muck. The tenement room which was to be their new home, was only slightly more accommodating than the ship's quarters.
The Saul children slept on the floor, sharing a large blanket and snuggling together for warmth. With Edward Saul taking to drink and most of the time passing out from hitting the bottle, their mother was forced to get a job in a nearby wallpaper factory.
One morning, with their mother having already left for work at the crack of dawn, Edward awoke his sleeping children with a loud string of curses. He dragged Pauline up from the floor by her hair and told her to go down to the fish market to fetch breakfast.
Nicholas pretended to be asleep while peaking at his father and sister through one eye, all the while staying silent. He watched as Pauline hurried to put on her dress over her nightgown and then fumbled with the laces on her boots.
"Hurry it up, you slothful hussy!" Edward growled as Pauline quickened her pace, her hands shaking. Nicholas knew she was afraid of him, just like the rest of them were. Even their mother, it seemed, was too fearful of her husband to calm him. "Be quick about it."
Pauline put on her bonnet and began searching for her shawl. Edward watched her for a moment before growing impatient and stormed over. "You ignorant, disrespectful slut!" He yelled, grabbing her by her shoulders and throwing her against the table. She hit the table with a loud thud and fell to the floor in a crumpled heap. Nicholas didn't see her move for a while.
Later that night, when it seemed everyone was asleep, Nicholas heard Pauline's whimper and cries somewhere in a further corner of the room, followed by his father's insistent hushes for her to be quiet. Not fully knowing what to make of it, he quickly closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep and not get in his father's way. He didn't want whatever was happening to Pauline to happen to him.
The next morning, their mother was at the factory once again and the children were left alone. Pauline and Margaret were mending some clothes at the table while Nicholas was chasing Tommy around the room, their giggles echoing off the walls.
When their father walked in, the four Saul children grew quiet. Edward stared at Pauline and shook his head, a disgusted look on his face. Pauline looked nervous, her breathing becoming more unsteady as Margaret took her hand under the table.
Nicholas quieted Tommy who was still squealing cheerfully and jumping about.
"Get out of this house," Edward said finally, speaking to Pauline who looked up at him in terrified alarm. "You should be working, like your mother. You are more than old enough now, and you should be making your own way. It's time you earned some money for this family. Unless you want the rest of us to go hungry and homeless, you thieving whore. Go into the town and find work."
The rest of the children were quiet as he said this. Pauline looked from their father to her siblings. "But what about them? I will not be able to take care of them if to be working all day."
"Margaret will," Edward responded as if it were obvious.
Pauline was quiet for a moment, exchanging a look with her sister. "I don't think Margaret can-"
"Don't make me repeat myself," he interrupted, crossing his arms. "Leave and find work, or I will throw you across my knee until you cannot sit down for a week, so help me."
As he left the room, Pauline stared down at the clothes she had mended and then over at Margaret who looked just as astonished.
Slowly, Pauline stood and began gathering her things in a small bag wordlessly. Margaret was sniffling, and Tommy simply cooed and waved his arms for Pauline to pick him up.
As she stepped outside the tenement to leave, the three remaining children hurried to her side as she embraced them tightly. Margaret hugged her twice, afraid to let her go.
"Don't leave, Pauline," Nicholas urged, frowning up at his older sister. He was terrified that she wouldn't come back, like Beth, and he wasn't sure if he could hold in his tears this time.
"I am not leaving forever," Pauline said softly, kissing his hair. "I will come back for you all. I promise."
That goodbye was the last Nicholas would see of her for a long time. It wasn't until nearly 15 years later, when he sat waiting in his cell at the Tombs prison that he would see her again. Only this time, it was he who was telling her goodbye.
It was only the beginning for young Nicholas Saul, and as soon as he was old enough to run away, he did. He had been a baker's apprentice by age eleven, but after several accounts of abuse brought on by his employer and his father at home, Nicholas had enough and decided he must make his own way in the world.
It had been hard to part with young Tommy, but he knew he wouldn't survive long on the streets. Margaret, by this point, was married with a family of her own and couldn't afford to take more mouths to feed. So Nicholas found his way among the guttersnipes and street arabs in the Five Points area of the city.
At age thirteen, he fell in with a gang of pickpockets and newsboys where he met his best friend for life; a fellow immigrant and runaway, his name was William Howlett.
Once the majority of the gang, including the leader, was rounded up and carted away by the police to juvenile reformatories several years later, both Nicholas and William split from the dwindling gang and moved down to the Fourth Ward along the waterfront.
A small gang of young toughs welcomed the friendship of these two well-accomplished pickpockets, and the leader of this gang immediately took a shining to both boys. Before long, William and Nicholas became his right-hand men, and ultimately took over leadership once the previous leader felt there was more money to be made elsewhere and moved on to join a burglary gang with criminals of notorious reputation.
By age sixteen and fifteen respectively, Nicholas and William were running the most violent and murderous gang of river pirates to ever terrorize the East River, conducting the majority of their raids in the early hours of the morning. They became known as the break of day thieves, or more commonly, the Daybreak Boys. And both Saul and Howlett were the great war chiefs to be feared by all.
But overtime, even the toughest and most brutal chiefs lose the battle. After all, everybody owes and everybody pays.