Chapters (71)
- Copyright Notice
- Dedication
- Part One
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Part Two
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Part Three
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Part Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Part Five
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Fifty-Seven
- Fifty-Eight
- Fifty-Nine
- Sixty
- Sixty-One
- Books by Barbara Taylor Bradford
- About the Author
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Michael was a gardener and Siobhan a housemaid. They were not paid very much; he knew that only too well, sure enough he did. Yet they managed better than their neighbors. He mentally hugged them to himself, because they were so caring of him in his time of dire need. His heart ached for his sister—his whole family. They were all dead now. Killed by this fearful land they lived in.
How he longed to leave this place.… If only he were a bird he could take flight … soar up and away … be free of pain and sorrow.
Blackie’s thoughts shifted to the opportunity he had, and Mrs. O’Malley. She was very kind to him. She mothered him and had taught him to read, far better than he had. She was the housekeeper for the local priest, Father O’Donovan. Both kept an eye on him and were now helping to plan his trip … a different future for him, if his uncle Pat could arrange everything. I know he’ll pull it off, Blackie decided. As usual, Blackie was full of optimism, a useful trait, he often thought. Keep smiling was his motto.
He had been inspired by Father O’Donovan’s confidence and filled with excitement about going to England, as thousands had before him. There was no work here, no opportunity for him to earn a few pennies. Even the grown men had no jobs.
The idea of adventure and opportunity overseas was fed by his proximity to the mouth of the river Shannon and the wild Atlantic Ocean beyond.
The wind had finally died down, gone out to sea. Blackie pushed himself to his feet. Stretching, and then pulling his coat around him, he headed for the edge of the cliffs.
He stood gazing out at the rolling waves tipped with white foam, felt as if the sea were calling him across the waters. In his imagination, he envisioned freedom from hardship, poverty and loneliness. He was impatient to be gone, could hardly wait for the day he would leave Ireland from the port of Queenstown. It was usually tough, even harsh, to cross this dangerous sea. Some did not survive the journey, so he had heard, and he believed it to be the truth.
Blackie knew he would. He would will himself to survive, in order to meet his uncle Pat in Liverpool, from whence they would travel on the train to Leeds. He had never been on a train before in his life; the idea of this intrigued him. His uncle had a good business in Leeds, repair work and building for the millowners and even some householders nowadays. He would teach Blackie everything he knew and make him a partner. One day.