The next morning, and the one after that, and all the way to the day the ship would leave Belfast, Lute tried to find a soft spot in Slingshot. There was nothing but bitterness, resentment, and a downright hate for people. This was the last morning she would try. Lute went to find Sling at her usual morning spot, sitting outside a bar not too far from the docks. Reaching this place quickly, Lute was surprised to see Sling without a bottle of beer in her hand; instead, there was a piece of slightly worn paper, presumably a letter. Lute sat next to Sling, glancing just long enough at the paper to see that it was actually a letter, but not reading anything.
"Who's it from?"
Sling looked up slowly. "You...you were right. I need ta go home. It's time to go back."
Lute's eyes widened, surprised to see such a change overnight. Her curiousity ached to know the contents of the letter, but decided it was best to allow the information to be offered. She stayed silent.
"In New Yawk, I toldja my brudder, he left me dere. Well I got dis job, see, woikin' ta sell papers. I got to be real good friends wit' some a' da other newsies. My best friend...he's sick. Real sick. I shouldn't a' left. I need to go back."
Lute nodded. "Three o'clock. That's what time the ship leaves. Will you be there?"
Sling nodded silently. "I'll show you New York."
The bell on the ship, called the Morning Glory, sounded and rung through the air. It was an exciting sound for all the immigrants traveling to a new land, it was the call of freedom. Ben, Lute, and Slingshot all made their way down to third class. It was dirty and filled with either large families or teenagers, with only a few exceptions. Ben and Lute seached for the cleanest spot they could find, eventually settling down next to a set of hammocks which smelled better than the rest. Slingshot, on the other hand, plopped down near the ladder to the upper decks, even though it seemed the ideal spot for rats. Sling shrugged off that fact when questioned, just saying she was used to it.
This was a new and different experience for Lute. Though she loved her father dearly, she had been a little sheltered growing up and never knew too many people. Looking around, there were a great many interesting people on board. In a corner not too far away sat a dark haired girl, asleep. She gripped a shawl tightely around her shoulders, shivering a little bit in the cool Irish weather. Looking a bit closer, Lute noticed the girl had large hoop earings. Thinking of how different they were, she decided she would have to ask this dark girl about them when she awoke.
Next to her, Ben yawned. The both of them had gotten up very early that morning to make sure everything was packed, and that their house would go to someone who needed it. "I think I'll get wink of sleep, Lute," Ben said, climbing onto the upper hammock. "Wake me if you need anything, or if anyone tries to bother you."
Lute knew what he meant by that. Not just anyone, but if a boy tried to bother her. "I think I'll go talk to Sling, Da. I will be back here later." Ben nodded slightly, already half asleep. Waiting a moment until her father was fast asleep, Lute wound her way through the crowd of bodies to the main ladder. She was slightly surprised to see Sling talking to a boy, a few years older than the two girls were.
"Hey Lute, you find a good spot?" Sling asked casually as Lute approached.
"Yes, even hammocks," Lute replied, eyeing the rather short boy next to Sling.
"Good. Alright, I wantcha ta meet a good friend a' mine, Spot Conlon. He used ta be a newsie too, woikin' around da docks in Brooklyn, dat's part a' New Yawk, but he found hisself a job woikin' as-well act'lly Spot, ya nevah said what you were doin' heah."
Spot coughed and kicked at some of the dirt on the floor. "I woik as a waiter, on da foist class deck. Not da best job, but I'se met some real richies. Most a' dem are really hoity-toity like, y'know. But some a' dem is nice."
"Spot Conlon, waiter. Yeah, dat's t'reatenin'," Sling scoffed, then turned to Lute. "Y'know what da sad thing is? Dis piece a' scum-"
"Hey! I ain't no piece a' scum, I'se respectable!" Spot interrupted.
"I was kiddin'," Sling replied, rolling her grey eyes. "Anyways, as I was sayin' before gettin' so rudely interrupted, he used ta be one a' da top newsies in all of New Yawk. Prob'ly coulda woiked as Pulitzer's mail boy or somethin'. But, he liked da watah..."
Spot shrugged. "I'se liked it since I was a kid. Why d'ya think I woiked da docks?"
Lute smiled, finding the conversation amusing. "Did you swim much?"
Nodding, Spot replied, "Yeah, ev'ry day durin' da summah. Well, except foa' two summahs ago, I missed a couple weeks 'cause I was on strike wit' da rest a' da newsies. It was hot dat yeah too."
"Strike? Newsies on strike?" Lute asked, interested.
"Yeah, long story. Look, Spot, I need ta talk to ya some more, ya free aftah you serve supper to dem rich folk?" Sling asked.
"Sure. As long as dis lovely lady comes wit' ya," Spot said, smiling at Lute.
Sling elbowed him in the gut. "Listen Spot, you might t'ink you'se respectable now, butcha still ain't good enough for a nice goil like Lute. Now, it's a quarter aftah five, you bettah get up dere ta serve some cocktails or somethin'."
Spot glanced at his watch, part of the whole waiters' uniform, and panicked slightly. "Yeah, you'se right, I bettah get goin'. Meet me out on da port deck around seven, I'll brind some food foah ya two."
Sling nodded, and leaned on the ladder as Spot climbed up. Lute looked at her, a troubled look on her face. "What's the matter, Sling?"
Sighing heavily, she replied, "I got some news foah Spot, I jist don't know how ta tell him. I haven't seen him in so long...believe me, it was a surprise ta see him on board. But he was like me brother, always lookin' out for me. It's just...different now."
"It has to do with that letter, doesn't it?" Lute prodded slightly.
Sling nodded, absent-mindedly pulling the paper out of her dirty pants and fingering it. Blinking rapidly as if coming out of a trance, she looked to Lute. "Well, it's at least a week till we get ta New Yawk, we might as well meet some of our fellow passengers. Dere's usually some music bein' played outside, on da deck where we're also gonna meet Spot, we can go look."
"Yes, that sounds good. At least a week to New York?" She repeated, disapointed. "Oh well, it's sooner than I expected a week ago."
The climbed up the splintery wooden ladder, careful to avoid getting too many splinters. Sling lead the way towards what she called port side; Lute figured out that it was the left side of the ship. She could here some Irish jigs being played, not too far away. A wave of relaxation passed over Lute, hearing something familiar, something from her homeland, comforted her. Bumping into someone, she looked up into a pair of hazel eyes quickly. "I'm sorry! I didn't see you!"
"That's alright," the girl responded, with a British accent. "I should have been more careful."
Lute, wanting to be friendly, smiled. "Name's Lute McDonaghey, I'm headed for New York. And yourself?"
"Chelsea, though my friends call me Whisper. I suppose that is because I don't fancy being loud and noisy. I, too, am headed for America. Have you heard much about it?"
"Not really. I am traveling with an American-" Lute stopped, and glanced around, noticing that Sling had gone off somewhere on he own. "But I haven't really found out all that much, only that we will spend a few days in immigration. The American, she's nice, but I do hope not all Americans are like her. A little too much alcohol to please me."
"I would think that you would be used to that, being Irish." Whisper laughed lightly at her own joke, Lute only smiling slightly. "Well, I'd best be on my way, though we will probably see each other again on this voyage."
Lute nodded. "Nice to meet you," and walked towards the small selection of instruments playing "Blow the Man Down". Taking a seat, she looked at the girl sitting next to her, who was singing along.
"Singing hey-hey-blow the man down. And please pay attention and listen to me, give us some time, to blow the man down!" The girl clapped along with others as the song ended, pleased by the music. She chatted for a moment with a dark girl sitting to her right, then turned to her left, to Lute. "Hello, do you happen to be from Scotland?" she asked, in a Scottish accent.
Lute shook her head. "No, I'm Irish. Why?"
"No reason, really, I just like to know where people are from. This one here," she said, nodding to her right, "Is from Germany. Lots of interesting people on this ship."
"Yes, there are...um, what is your name?"
"Charlotte Blackette, a Scot soon to be American."
Lute introduced herself, and the dark-haired girl introduced herself in broken English as Jemima Eztabah. The threesome talked about the few-known facts of America they had heard, and sang along to the songs they knew. A few songs later, an Asian plopped down next to Jemima.
"Charlotte, is there food today?" She asked, in an accent Lute didn't recognize.
Shrugging, Charlotte replied, "If we get lucky. How are your English studies coming?"
The Asian girl held up a small tablet, where the English alphabet was scrawled. "Good?" she asked.
"Yes, very good. Lute, meet Krystal Mai, our Vietnamese friend. She's a lone traveler, like myself, so we kind of partnered up so I could teach her English. It's coming along nicely, Krystal."
Lute smiled, she had never met an Asian before. "You sound like you've known English a long time. Are you just now learning?"
Krystal nodded. "Char says I do good most days."
"Do well," Charlotte replied absent-mindedly.
Lute was starting to feel comfortable when Sling appeared again. "Hey Lute, ya hungry? We're s'pposed ta meet Spot in jist a few minutes," she said, glancing at the other two other girls. Jemmy had left to eat with her brother already.
Lute, suddenly akward and aware of growling stomachs, nodded. "Well, can Charlotte and Krystal come, I mean, will Spot be okay with that?"
Sling laughed. "Spot will be t'rilled. He loves bein' surrounded by goils, and you three will make him very happy. Go ovah by da lamp, see, and I'll go up to da kitchen and get Spot ta bring moah food. We should be down in jist a few minutes."
Lute nodded, and the three girls replocated to the lamp post, waiting anxiously for some food.
Soon enough the laughing of the two friends carrying food was heard. Spot was seen first, his white tuxedo shirt half unbuttoned and untucked, since he was off duty. He carried two baskets, steam still coming out of the top of one of them. Slingshot was close behind, carrying plates, forks, and cups all balanced. Spot grinned as he saw the two extra girls. "Well, well, well...looks like we'se gonna have moah fun den I t'ought!"
"Knock it off Spot, we're all heah foah dinner and dat's it," Sling said, shoving him lightly as they set down their burdens.
Spot frowned. "Aw, c'mon, don't I get a t'anks foah all dis food? And how 'bout some introductions, huh?
Lute stood and spoke in an even tone. "This is Charlotte, from Scotland, and Krystal, from Vietnam."
Pretending to be a gentleman, Spot took each one of the girls' hands and kissed in gently. "An honah ta meetcha," he said to Krystal.
She smiled and nodded. "Your name?" she asked.
"Spot Conlon, at your soivice," he replied. "I'se starved aftah watchin' all dem richies eat, so lets get out some a' dis food."
Krystal and Charlotte couldn't be happier. They had emmigrated alone, and had run out of their own food supply. Charlotte had confessed earlier to Lute that they hadn't eaten in two days. Sling handed plates and forks to the others, while Spot pulled out chicken, rolls, and carrots, all still warm and delicious looking. The five teenagers ate until no more was left, for they were all very hungry. Little discussion was made, they had to eat quickly before the food got cold.
Sling had finished first, not eating much more than a few rolls. She was usually content with a bottle of alcohol. Waiting patiently for the others to finish, she talked first when they were finally done. "Spot, I'm glad ya wanted ta have dinnah, 'cause I knew you were woikin' on a ship somewheah, jist not where. Anyway, I kinda got some serious news..." she trailed off, slightly uncomfortable under the watch of others. Pulling the letter out of the back pocket of her brown pants, she handed it to Spot.
Watching Slingshot, Spot was confused. She was usually very open and honest about everything, not timid like this. He had known her for almost five years, and in that time they had become very close, like brother and sister. This was definatly not like her usual behaviour. He took the letter and, carefully unfolding it, stood up to be closer to the light to read it.
Dear Slingshot,
I hope you get this letter, I have been trying to reach you for months, and heard that you might be in Belfast. Don't drink to much over there, I hear the Irish are a bunch of drunks. Well, here in New York things have changed since you left. Spot isn't in Brooklyn anymore, he's working on some ship.
Spot smiled as he read about himself, he always enjoyed hearing about himself no matter what the subject.
Dutchy has gone back to Germany, and Blink is working as a cobbler, he's apprenticed here in New York.
But that is not the real point of this letter. You need to come back. Your brother-he came looking for you, and is staying with the newsies for a couple of months, hoping that you get this and will return. That is the good news, good if you want to see him anyway. But I have some bad news. Jack isn't doing so well...he caught some sort of disease or something and he's really sick. He wants to see you, and if you happen to run across Spot at on of the docks in Belfast, him too.It's really bad, Jack even turned over being the leader to Race (I'm doing a good job) and can't walk much anymore. Come back quick, no one knows how much time you have. We've all been sick before, but not like this. Please come home.
Sincerly,
Mush and Race
Reading it twice to make sure he hadn't missed anything, Spot looked up. "Wonder wheah dey got a typewritah," was all he said.
Sling rolled her eyes. "Spot, please! You have to get off the ship in New York. We gotta see Jack!"
"An' your brudder?" Spot asked cautiously.
Lute looked up at this. Sling had told her how she hated her brother for what he did to her. The name, Jack, was mentioned now, she assumed that was the sick friend. She looked to Sling.
"My brother..." Sling said slowly. She paused, then her eyes flashed a look of pure hatred. "I ain't got a brother anymore. Mine died, as far as I'm concoined." She rose, grabbed the bottle of beer that had sat next to her, and walked off.
Spot sighed and looked at the three girls still there. "Sorry 'bout Sling...she was hoit pretty bad by her brudder, but she don't like the whole concept of emotions. Says it gets in da way of thinkin' straight." He shrugged, not sure what to say. "It's da foist time in a real long time she's hoid anythin' about him...it's gotta be tough. She'll be back to her bright self by morin', though. So what about you three? Ireland...been dere, Scotland...been dere...Vietnam? Hoid of it once."
Krystal grinned. "Not many people been there. My family, there are still there. It can be nice. But it rains half the year, too hot other half."
"New Yawk can git pretty hot at time too, and rainy, and snowy, I guess it jist depends on da time a' year. It's only Novembah now, so it ain't gonna be dat cold, not compard ta January, but it'll be prolly as cold as Belfast was. Maybe some snow, I dunno," Spot said. "Why'd ya leave Asia?"
"My family was poor. They had nothing...we had nothing. I want some of those American opportunites people speak about. And not building railroad, like the Chinese in California, but real opportunity. That is why I first must travel to Greece, and get this ship there. The train....it took a long time. But I am here now, and happier than in Asia."
Charlotte nodded. "Yes, American opportunities. I have heard a lot of stories about the famous, and infamous, New York City. Can you tell us about it?"
"Yes, tell us something about the real city!" Lute chimed in.
"Geez, you sound like a reportah foah Hearst or somethin'...awlright, lets see...New Yawk. Well, dere's a lot of people dere. Lots a' imm'grants like you ladies. But dey's mostly divided up...da Italians go ta Little Italy, da Chinese ta Chinatown, dere's a Irish district, I guess dem Scots go dere too...dere's Brooklyn, wheah I lived, lots a' rich people dere. Manhatten, wheah Sling lived, is right across da Brooklyn bridge. If ya go uptown, dere's vaudville stages, lots a' diff'rent types a' entertainment dere," Spot said, thinky fondly of his home. "Y'know, I t'ink Sling is right, I should get off at New Yawk...I kinda miss it now dat I t'ink about it. An' besides, I gotta see home my Brooklyn boys are doin'."
"These areas for different people, are you forced into them?" Krystal asked.
"Nah, a' coise not! America's a free country, dey can't foice ya ta do anythin'."
"Good. So I want to live in Brooklyn like you, I can?" Krystal asked, obviously somewhat taken by Spot.
Spot gave his signature smirk. "Yep, and I'll add dat Brooklyn is an excellent choice. It's gettin' kinda late though, and I'se gotta go clean up in da dinin' hall. May I escort you ladies to your livin' quatahs?"
The three girls glanced at each other. "Sure," Charlotte said. After putting all the used dishes into the baskets, Spot led them to the ladder down to third class.
"I'll hafta say good-bye heah," Spot said. "I hope you'se all enjoyed da food. Sleep well, watch out foah rats. Sometimes dey crawl into da hammocks."
Lute gulped. "I hope not!"
"Well, it's a good sign if rats are on board, it means da ship won't sink. I gotta get goin' now, it was nice meetin' all of ya fine ladies." He turned to Krystal. "Especially you," he said quietly to her. He shifted a plate in one of the baskets and hurried off to the dining hall. The girls all said good night to each other, and left for their own hammocks.
Slingshot had left Spot again, and she was sorry for it. She paced to bow of the ship, the cool air keeping her senses alive, the beer bottle keeping cold and slowly emptying. How can he be back? Where'd he figure out I would be there? Why would he bother to look? These and other questions rushed through her head, swirling around too fast for her to figure out an answer.
She read over the letter from Race and Mush again. Jack couldn't walk? Worse than Crutchy? This couldn't happen! She downed the rest of the beer and tossed the bottle into the dark Atlantic Ocean. Everything was becoming too complicated. She sat down, leaning against the cold metal bars to get some sleep. Shivering a little, she drifted off quickly.
"Who's it from?"
Sling looked up slowly. "You...you were right. I need ta go home. It's time to go back."
Lute's eyes widened, surprised to see such a change overnight. Her curiousity ached to know the contents of the letter, but decided it was best to allow the information to be offered. She stayed silent.
"In New Yawk, I toldja my brudder, he left me dere. Well I got dis job, see, woikin' ta sell papers. I got to be real good friends wit' some a' da other newsies. My best friend...he's sick. Real sick. I shouldn't a' left. I need to go back."
Lute nodded. "Three o'clock. That's what time the ship leaves. Will you be there?"
Sling nodded silently. "I'll show you New York."
The bell on the ship, called the Morning Glory, sounded and rung through the air. It was an exciting sound for all the immigrants traveling to a new land, it was the call of freedom. Ben, Lute, and Slingshot all made their way down to third class. It was dirty and filled with either large families or teenagers, with only a few exceptions. Ben and Lute seached for the cleanest spot they could find, eventually settling down next to a set of hammocks which smelled better than the rest. Slingshot, on the other hand, plopped down near the ladder to the upper decks, even though it seemed the ideal spot for rats. Sling shrugged off that fact when questioned, just saying she was used to it.
This was a new and different experience for Lute. Though she loved her father dearly, she had been a little sheltered growing up and never knew too many people. Looking around, there were a great many interesting people on board. In a corner not too far away sat a dark haired girl, asleep. She gripped a shawl tightely around her shoulders, shivering a little bit in the cool Irish weather. Looking a bit closer, Lute noticed the girl had large hoop earings. Thinking of how different they were, she decided she would have to ask this dark girl about them when she awoke.
Next to her, Ben yawned. The both of them had gotten up very early that morning to make sure everything was packed, and that their house would go to someone who needed it. "I think I'll get wink of sleep, Lute," Ben said, climbing onto the upper hammock. "Wake me if you need anything, or if anyone tries to bother you."
Lute knew what he meant by that. Not just anyone, but if a boy tried to bother her. "I think I'll go talk to Sling, Da. I will be back here later." Ben nodded slightly, already half asleep. Waiting a moment until her father was fast asleep, Lute wound her way through the crowd of bodies to the main ladder. She was slightly surprised to see Sling talking to a boy, a few years older than the two girls were.
"Hey Lute, you find a good spot?" Sling asked casually as Lute approached.
"Yes, even hammocks," Lute replied, eyeing the rather short boy next to Sling.
"Good. Alright, I wantcha ta meet a good friend a' mine, Spot Conlon. He used ta be a newsie too, woikin' around da docks in Brooklyn, dat's part a' New Yawk, but he found hisself a job woikin' as-well act'lly Spot, ya nevah said what you were doin' heah."
Spot coughed and kicked at some of the dirt on the floor. "I woik as a waiter, on da foist class deck. Not da best job, but I'se met some real richies. Most a' dem are really hoity-toity like, y'know. But some a' dem is nice."
"Spot Conlon, waiter. Yeah, dat's t'reatenin'," Sling scoffed, then turned to Lute. "Y'know what da sad thing is? Dis piece a' scum-"
"Hey! I ain't no piece a' scum, I'se respectable!" Spot interrupted.
"I was kiddin'," Sling replied, rolling her grey eyes. "Anyways, as I was sayin' before gettin' so rudely interrupted, he used ta be one a' da top newsies in all of New Yawk. Prob'ly coulda woiked as Pulitzer's mail boy or somethin'. But, he liked da watah..."
Spot shrugged. "I'se liked it since I was a kid. Why d'ya think I woiked da docks?"
Lute smiled, finding the conversation amusing. "Did you swim much?"
Nodding, Spot replied, "Yeah, ev'ry day durin' da summah. Well, except foa' two summahs ago, I missed a couple weeks 'cause I was on strike wit' da rest a' da newsies. It was hot dat yeah too."
"Strike? Newsies on strike?" Lute asked, interested.
"Yeah, long story. Look, Spot, I need ta talk to ya some more, ya free aftah you serve supper to dem rich folk?" Sling asked.
"Sure. As long as dis lovely lady comes wit' ya," Spot said, smiling at Lute.
Sling elbowed him in the gut. "Listen Spot, you might t'ink you'se respectable now, butcha still ain't good enough for a nice goil like Lute. Now, it's a quarter aftah five, you bettah get up dere ta serve some cocktails or somethin'."
Spot glanced at his watch, part of the whole waiters' uniform, and panicked slightly. "Yeah, you'se right, I bettah get goin'. Meet me out on da port deck around seven, I'll brind some food foah ya two."
Sling nodded, and leaned on the ladder as Spot climbed up. Lute looked at her, a troubled look on her face. "What's the matter, Sling?"
Sighing heavily, she replied, "I got some news foah Spot, I jist don't know how ta tell him. I haven't seen him in so long...believe me, it was a surprise ta see him on board. But he was like me brother, always lookin' out for me. It's just...different now."
"It has to do with that letter, doesn't it?" Lute prodded slightly.
Sling nodded, absent-mindedly pulling the paper out of her dirty pants and fingering it. Blinking rapidly as if coming out of a trance, she looked to Lute. "Well, it's at least a week till we get ta New Yawk, we might as well meet some of our fellow passengers. Dere's usually some music bein' played outside, on da deck where we're also gonna meet Spot, we can go look."
"Yes, that sounds good. At least a week to New York?" She repeated, disapointed. "Oh well, it's sooner than I expected a week ago."
The climbed up the splintery wooden ladder, careful to avoid getting too many splinters. Sling lead the way towards what she called port side; Lute figured out that it was the left side of the ship. She could here some Irish jigs being played, not too far away. A wave of relaxation passed over Lute, hearing something familiar, something from her homeland, comforted her. Bumping into someone, she looked up into a pair of hazel eyes quickly. "I'm sorry! I didn't see you!"
"That's alright," the girl responded, with a British accent. "I should have been more careful."
Lute, wanting to be friendly, smiled. "Name's Lute McDonaghey, I'm headed for New York. And yourself?"
"Chelsea, though my friends call me Whisper. I suppose that is because I don't fancy being loud and noisy. I, too, am headed for America. Have you heard much about it?"
"Not really. I am traveling with an American-" Lute stopped, and glanced around, noticing that Sling had gone off somewhere on he own. "But I haven't really found out all that much, only that we will spend a few days in immigration. The American, she's nice, but I do hope not all Americans are like her. A little too much alcohol to please me."
"I would think that you would be used to that, being Irish." Whisper laughed lightly at her own joke, Lute only smiling slightly. "Well, I'd best be on my way, though we will probably see each other again on this voyage."
Lute nodded. "Nice to meet you," and walked towards the small selection of instruments playing "Blow the Man Down". Taking a seat, she looked at the girl sitting next to her, who was singing along.
"Singing hey-hey-blow the man down. And please pay attention and listen to me, give us some time, to blow the man down!" The girl clapped along with others as the song ended, pleased by the music. She chatted for a moment with a dark girl sitting to her right, then turned to her left, to Lute. "Hello, do you happen to be from Scotland?" she asked, in a Scottish accent.
Lute shook her head. "No, I'm Irish. Why?"
"No reason, really, I just like to know where people are from. This one here," she said, nodding to her right, "Is from Germany. Lots of interesting people on this ship."
"Yes, there are...um, what is your name?"
"Charlotte Blackette, a Scot soon to be American."
Lute introduced herself, and the dark-haired girl introduced herself in broken English as Jemima Eztabah. The threesome talked about the few-known facts of America they had heard, and sang along to the songs they knew. A few songs later, an Asian plopped down next to Jemima.
"Charlotte, is there food today?" She asked, in an accent Lute didn't recognize.
Shrugging, Charlotte replied, "If we get lucky. How are your English studies coming?"
The Asian girl held up a small tablet, where the English alphabet was scrawled. "Good?" she asked.
"Yes, very good. Lute, meet Krystal Mai, our Vietnamese friend. She's a lone traveler, like myself, so we kind of partnered up so I could teach her English. It's coming along nicely, Krystal."
Lute smiled, she had never met an Asian before. "You sound like you've known English a long time. Are you just now learning?"
Krystal nodded. "Char says I do good most days."
"Do well," Charlotte replied absent-mindedly.
Lute was starting to feel comfortable when Sling appeared again. "Hey Lute, ya hungry? We're s'pposed ta meet Spot in jist a few minutes," she said, glancing at the other two other girls. Jemmy had left to eat with her brother already.
Lute, suddenly akward and aware of growling stomachs, nodded. "Well, can Charlotte and Krystal come, I mean, will Spot be okay with that?"
Sling laughed. "Spot will be t'rilled. He loves bein' surrounded by goils, and you three will make him very happy. Go ovah by da lamp, see, and I'll go up to da kitchen and get Spot ta bring moah food. We should be down in jist a few minutes."
Lute nodded, and the three girls replocated to the lamp post, waiting anxiously for some food.
Soon enough the laughing of the two friends carrying food was heard. Spot was seen first, his white tuxedo shirt half unbuttoned and untucked, since he was off duty. He carried two baskets, steam still coming out of the top of one of them. Slingshot was close behind, carrying plates, forks, and cups all balanced. Spot grinned as he saw the two extra girls. "Well, well, well...looks like we'se gonna have moah fun den I t'ought!"
"Knock it off Spot, we're all heah foah dinner and dat's it," Sling said, shoving him lightly as they set down their burdens.
Spot frowned. "Aw, c'mon, don't I get a t'anks foah all dis food? And how 'bout some introductions, huh?
Lute stood and spoke in an even tone. "This is Charlotte, from Scotland, and Krystal, from Vietnam."
Pretending to be a gentleman, Spot took each one of the girls' hands and kissed in gently. "An honah ta meetcha," he said to Krystal.
She smiled and nodded. "Your name?" she asked.
"Spot Conlon, at your soivice," he replied. "I'se starved aftah watchin' all dem richies eat, so lets get out some a' dis food."
Krystal and Charlotte couldn't be happier. They had emmigrated alone, and had run out of their own food supply. Charlotte had confessed earlier to Lute that they hadn't eaten in two days. Sling handed plates and forks to the others, while Spot pulled out chicken, rolls, and carrots, all still warm and delicious looking. The five teenagers ate until no more was left, for they were all very hungry. Little discussion was made, they had to eat quickly before the food got cold.
Sling had finished first, not eating much more than a few rolls. She was usually content with a bottle of alcohol. Waiting patiently for the others to finish, she talked first when they were finally done. "Spot, I'm glad ya wanted ta have dinnah, 'cause I knew you were woikin' on a ship somewheah, jist not where. Anyway, I kinda got some serious news..." she trailed off, slightly uncomfortable under the watch of others. Pulling the letter out of the back pocket of her brown pants, she handed it to Spot.
Watching Slingshot, Spot was confused. She was usually very open and honest about everything, not timid like this. He had known her for almost five years, and in that time they had become very close, like brother and sister. This was definatly not like her usual behaviour. He took the letter and, carefully unfolding it, stood up to be closer to the light to read it.
Dear Slingshot,
I hope you get this letter, I have been trying to reach you for months, and heard that you might be in Belfast. Don't drink to much over there, I hear the Irish are a bunch of drunks. Well, here in New York things have changed since you left. Spot isn't in Brooklyn anymore, he's working on some ship.
Spot smiled as he read about himself, he always enjoyed hearing about himself no matter what the subject.
Dutchy has gone back to Germany, and Blink is working as a cobbler, he's apprenticed here in New York.
But that is not the real point of this letter. You need to come back. Your brother-he came looking for you, and is staying with the newsies for a couple of months, hoping that you get this and will return. That is the good news, good if you want to see him anyway. But I have some bad news. Jack isn't doing so well...he caught some sort of disease or something and he's really sick. He wants to see you, and if you happen to run across Spot at on of the docks in Belfast, him too.It's really bad, Jack even turned over being the leader to Race (I'm doing a good job) and can't walk much anymore. Come back quick, no one knows how much time you have. We've all been sick before, but not like this. Please come home.
Sincerly,
Mush and Race
Reading it twice to make sure he hadn't missed anything, Spot looked up. "Wonder wheah dey got a typewritah," was all he said.
Sling rolled her eyes. "Spot, please! You have to get off the ship in New York. We gotta see Jack!"
"An' your brudder?" Spot asked cautiously.
Lute looked up at this. Sling had told her how she hated her brother for what he did to her. The name, Jack, was mentioned now, she assumed that was the sick friend. She looked to Sling.
"My brother..." Sling said slowly. She paused, then her eyes flashed a look of pure hatred. "I ain't got a brother anymore. Mine died, as far as I'm concoined." She rose, grabbed the bottle of beer that had sat next to her, and walked off.
Spot sighed and looked at the three girls still there. "Sorry 'bout Sling...she was hoit pretty bad by her brudder, but she don't like the whole concept of emotions. Says it gets in da way of thinkin' straight." He shrugged, not sure what to say. "It's da foist time in a real long time she's hoid anythin' about him...it's gotta be tough. She'll be back to her bright self by morin', though. So what about you three? Ireland...been dere, Scotland...been dere...Vietnam? Hoid of it once."
Krystal grinned. "Not many people been there. My family, there are still there. It can be nice. But it rains half the year, too hot other half."
"New Yawk can git pretty hot at time too, and rainy, and snowy, I guess it jist depends on da time a' year. It's only Novembah now, so it ain't gonna be dat cold, not compard ta January, but it'll be prolly as cold as Belfast was. Maybe some snow, I dunno," Spot said. "Why'd ya leave Asia?"
"My family was poor. They had nothing...we had nothing. I want some of those American opportunites people speak about. And not building railroad, like the Chinese in California, but real opportunity. That is why I first must travel to Greece, and get this ship there. The train....it took a long time. But I am here now, and happier than in Asia."
Charlotte nodded. "Yes, American opportunities. I have heard a lot of stories about the famous, and infamous, New York City. Can you tell us about it?"
"Yes, tell us something about the real city!" Lute chimed in.
"Geez, you sound like a reportah foah Hearst or somethin'...awlright, lets see...New Yawk. Well, dere's a lot of people dere. Lots a' imm'grants like you ladies. But dey's mostly divided up...da Italians go ta Little Italy, da Chinese ta Chinatown, dere's a Irish district, I guess dem Scots go dere too...dere's Brooklyn, wheah I lived, lots a' rich people dere. Manhatten, wheah Sling lived, is right across da Brooklyn bridge. If ya go uptown, dere's vaudville stages, lots a' diff'rent types a' entertainment dere," Spot said, thinky fondly of his home. "Y'know, I t'ink Sling is right, I should get off at New Yawk...I kinda miss it now dat I t'ink about it. An' besides, I gotta see home my Brooklyn boys are doin'."
"These areas for different people, are you forced into them?" Krystal asked.
"Nah, a' coise not! America's a free country, dey can't foice ya ta do anythin'."
"Good. So I want to live in Brooklyn like you, I can?" Krystal asked, obviously somewhat taken by Spot.
Spot gave his signature smirk. "Yep, and I'll add dat Brooklyn is an excellent choice. It's gettin' kinda late though, and I'se gotta go clean up in da dinin' hall. May I escort you ladies to your livin' quatahs?"
The three girls glanced at each other. "Sure," Charlotte said. After putting all the used dishes into the baskets, Spot led them to the ladder down to third class.
"I'll hafta say good-bye heah," Spot said. "I hope you'se all enjoyed da food. Sleep well, watch out foah rats. Sometimes dey crawl into da hammocks."
Lute gulped. "I hope not!"
"Well, it's a good sign if rats are on board, it means da ship won't sink. I gotta get goin' now, it was nice meetin' all of ya fine ladies." He turned to Krystal. "Especially you," he said quietly to her. He shifted a plate in one of the baskets and hurried off to the dining hall. The girls all said good night to each other, and left for their own hammocks.
Slingshot had left Spot again, and she was sorry for it. She paced to bow of the ship, the cool air keeping her senses alive, the beer bottle keeping cold and slowly emptying. How can he be back? Where'd he figure out I would be there? Why would he bother to look? These and other questions rushed through her head, swirling around too fast for her to figure out an answer.
She read over the letter from Race and Mush again. Jack couldn't walk? Worse than Crutchy? This couldn't happen! She downed the rest of the beer and tossed the bottle into the dark Atlantic Ocean. Everything was becoming too complicated. She sat down, leaning against the cold metal bars to get some sleep. Shivering a little, she drifted off quickly.