Chapter Four

In years to come Umbertina would say she could not remember the long weeks of the passage over, only that it was miserable sharing those stifling dormitory quarters in the hold with the other women and children (the men were put elsewhere); trying to sleep without privacy; trying to feed and care for the children, wash diapers and menstrual napkins and clothes stained with vomit from seasickness and the nausea caused by the fetid air; trying to keep a decency of person and clothes that they no longer felt, since the way they were made to bunk like animals soon gave them the conviction of being animals. At the end the captain had to order some of the worst to clean themselves and to throw the worst of their garments overboard before the quarantine officer set foot on the ship. Some who were fearful of being sent back had hidden their sick ones; others struggled to stand up and look well.

The day was fair and clear when they reached New York Harbor, and the little group from Castagna was at the rail of the deck to see the approach, their eyes fixed gravely with the importance of the moment.

For years they had been hearing from Domenico Saccà about the wonders of Cato, where there were factories and great houses and gas-lit streets and everyone had work. Now, as they sailed into New York Harbor, Cristina Muzzi looked about her, awed, and said, “If this is only New York, what can Cato be like?” In their safe old age, they would remember what Cristina had said and laugh. But at the moment there was no laughter, only relief and thankfulness.

“È bella,” Umbertina exclaimed almost in surprise as they steamed past the harbor islands and she saw, in the thick green on shore and the fine wooded hills that arose from the New Jersey side of the Hudson, the promise of a beneficent and plentiful nature; and in the wonder of the newly completed Brooklyn Bridge her eyes read the marvels to be accomplished in this world of new men. All about them in the busy harbor were signs of industry and commerce in the great traffic of tugs, steamers, cargo barges, and ferryboats.

By the time they boarded the tender that took all the immigrants ashore to the landing stage of Castle Garden at the Battery, Umbertina’s anxieties had turned to hopefulness. Even as they were herded into the Rotunda and lined up to give their names and birthplaces to a registrar who noted them down in a large ledger, her spirits kept up. Then they were asked their places of destination. Serafino said New York. The others from Castagna said Cato and were told where to go to get train tickets.

She and Serafino embraced the Saccà brothers, Gino Gualtiero, and the weeping Cristina Muzzi and her children before they separated. The Longobardis, penniless now, had to stay in New York until Serafino made enough money for the trip upstate.