An exciting coming-of-age story of a brother and sister in an Ireland still under the harsh rule of the British, Out of Ireland brings alive the story of our ancestors who braved the dangers of immigration in order to find a better life for themselves and their families.
Intrigued? Well read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from Out of Ireland by Marian O’Shea Wernicke, which is out April 25th.
In the late 1860s in Bantry, Ireland, sixteen-year-old Eileen O’Donovan is forced by her family to marry an older widower whom she barely knows and does not love. Her brother Michael, at age nineteen, becomes involved with the outlawed Irish Republican Brotherhood, a secret organization dedicated to the violent overthrow of British rule in Ireland. Their fates intertwine when they each decide to emigrate to America, where both tragedy and happiness await them.
CHAPTER 15
Five months later, John and Eileen Sullivan along with young Thomas Sullivan had tickets in steerage on the steamship SS Abyssinia. They would depart from Queenstown for New York on the fifth of May, 1870. The passenger list contained two hun- dred saloon or first-class passengers and one thousand and fifty passengers in steerage, among whom were listed the following:
| John Sullivan | 42 | M | Farmer | Ireland |
| Mary Eileen Sullivan | 19 | F | Wife | Ireland |
| Thomas Michael Sullivan | 2 | M | Child | Ireland |
As the crowd on the dock in Queenstown pressed in around her, Eileen heard the squealing of pigs before she saw them. One by one, pigs, cows, and chickens were being dragged up the gangplank by the crew. A man next to her shouted out above the din, “Sure, we steerage people won’t be eating those fine specimens.” He spat in the general direction of the gangplank, and Eileen turned away so that Thomas in her arms would not see and try to imitate the man.
The child imitated everything people said and did these days. Now he was twisting in her arms, laughing at the animals, clapping his hands in delight. John stood close to her, lugging the bundles containing all they could bring. Two thin mattresses were folded around the blankets, shawls, and towels she had brought, and another sack held their mess kit, recently bought in Cork: two tin plates, a tin can for water, three tin mugs, two knives, two forks and three spoons, and a small tin basin for, as the merchant said, “When yous get seasick.”
They’d sold the few pieces of furniture they had. It hurt Eileen awfully when she could not bring along to America some of her treasures: the mirror her mother had given her, the rocking chair she had nursed Thomas in so many nights and days, the hand-embroidered pillowcases, and even some of the Christmas ornaments she had made for the boy, all left behind except the blue horse Thomas slept with every night.
Luckily, her cousin Kathleen had been happy to get every- thing, promising to return the loved objects to her, “If,” she said through tears, “you ever decide to come home again.” But hidden in the bundle Eileen carried with their few pieces of clothing were her three most precious treasures: a small bag of dirt from her parents’ farm, the single-pearl necklace Michael had given her, and the book she had stolen from Blackthorn House.
Now the crew was sweeping up the traces of the animals in preparation for the cabin passengers who were lined up, chatting happily, awaiting their boarding. Eileen had eaten little breakfast that morning in the boarding house in Queenstown, but she’d saved an egg and some bread for Thomas. She squatted now and held the child on her lap as she fed him bits of food while he gazed in awe at the sailors swinging up on the great masts, the gulls wheeling around them, and in the distance the sea, sparkling in early morning sun. The breeze off the ocean was sharp, and Eileen pulled her plaid shawl around her shoulders, her light brown hair secured tightly in a bun.
She watched the ladies and gentlemen in first class board, the ladies’ hats waving with feathers and ribbons, clutching their parasols, their hands covered in soft leather gloves, the silk and muslin dresses sweeping the gangplank. Their servants trailed them, carrying leather trunks, hat boxes, and suitcases. They laughed and chatted as if they were going on a summer picnic, not leaving their homes forever to cross a dangerous ocean for an unknown world.
Finally, after what seemed hours standing around waiting, Eileen saw the gates open for the steerage passengers. John pressed close to her, taking Thomas in his arms now along with the baggage. The child was asleep, his cheeks flushed pink, and his dark hair sweaty from standing in the spring sunshine all morning. They filed up the gangplank, swaying in the dock, and Eileen knew she was stepping away from Ireland itself, perhaps forever. She whispered a quick prayer that, God willing, the next firm land beneath their feet would be America.
©2023 Marian O’Shea Wernicke
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
MARIAN O’SHEA WERNICKE is the author of the debut novel Toward That Which is Beautiful (She Writes Press, 2020). She has also published a memoir about her father called Tom O’Shea: A Twentieth Century Man. Born in St. Louis, Missouri, to an Irish Catholic family, she entered the convent of the Sisters of the Most Precious Blood at age sixteen and spent eleven years as a nun before leaving the convent. Later, she met and married Michael Wernicke. Marian earned a master’s degree in English from the University of West Florida and went on to become a professor of English at Pensacola State College for twenty-five years. She lives in Austin, Texas. Find her online at www.MarianOSheaWernicke.com
