Touched by Fire by Irene N.Watts

anything like this. Where I worked in Hamburg, there was a flush toilet. I didn’t expect anything grand, but this is awful,” Rosie says.
    We wash under one of the cold-water faucets, one for each of the ten basins – five on each side of the wall. Several women are there already. One wipes her little girl’s face, and the child puts out her tongue to lick the water.
    “Mama, it tastes of salt!” Her mother explains to her that the water comes straight from the sea. Bubbe would say salt is healthy!
    We wash as best we can, hurrying to make way for the line of women waiting for us to finish. There are no cloths to clean the basins.
How are so many of us going to wash and do our laundry?
Ten basins are not very many. Next time, I’m going to bring a rag to wipe the basin before I use it, even if I have to tear it from my petticoat!
    “Can you imagine what this place is going to look and smell like after a few days at sea?” Rosie says.
    “I’d rather not, Rosie. In his first letter to us, Papa hinted about steerage conditions on board. I didn’t expect much, but this is pretty horrible. I am glad Mama and Devora are not here. Papa and I will have to save up more, so that they can travel second-class. Oh, my goodness, just listen to me! If my grandmother were here, she’d say, ‘Who do you think you are, a rich American lady, already?’ ”
    “Come on, let’s get out of here and explore a bit.
Mamma mia
, Miriam, the ship is moving.” Rosie grabs my arm. “The floor is sliding away from us.” Engines clatter and jangle, and the ship sways, tilting from one side to the other. We are on our way to the other side of the world!
    A bell rings, and I almost collide with the steward, who calls out that supper is being served in the dining room.
    “Go all the way along the alleyway, straight ahead,” he says.
    I am surprised. I don’t really know what I was expecting – that we’d line up along the corridor, I mean alleyway, and pass bowls of food along from hand to hand?
    When we get to the dining room, we see long wooden tables and benches set up in rows. A knife, fork, and spoon and a bowl and mug are laid for each person. On the tables are baskets of fresh white bread, dishes of jam, and jugs of cocoa. The stewards bring big tin pots filled with potato and vegetable stew. It is a welcome meal, the first for many hours. We help ourselves and eat as fast as possible, taking our empty plates to a side table, so that clean utensils can be set for the women waiting their turn. There are too many of us to be fed at one sitting. Women with children are served first, but Fanny noticed us and took Essie on her knee, so that we could squeeze in beside her.
    We take a long time settling down after supper. The cabin is small, and it is hard for all of us to sort our belongings and get into our bunks. My arm throbs, and there is a red bump where the doctor injected the needle. The engines grind, and the noise is so close to my ear that, even on the top bunk, I feel as if I am resting right on top of the machinery. Next door, a baby wails. I am too excited to go to sleep. The lightbulb dims.
    Rosie and I whisper about our plans for tomorrow. We are going to go up on deck as soon as breakfast is over.
    Pearl’s voice interrupts us, “Are you planning to talk all night? I need my sleep.”
    I don’t know why, but she makes me want to laugh. I try to stifle my giggles in my pillow.
    “Don’t, you’ll suffocate in the seaweed,” Rosie whispers, and that starts me off again.
    Pearl sits up. She sounds exactly like my old teacher. “I warn you, girls, I’ll call the steward if you don’t stop talking!”
    “Shame on you, Pearl,” Tanya says, “inviting men into the women’s quarters.”
    Now everyone is laughing, except for her. But, ten minutes later, when she begins to snore, Riva shakes her by the shoulder and tells her to be quiet. Magically, Pearl is silent from then on!

12
“WRETCHED REFUSE”
    T his