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“I wonder what type of house Papa lives in?” “I don't know. But you needn't worry about that. I'm sure it will be nice.” “Alberto?”
“Yes, Maria.” Alberto said impatiently, suddenly feeling the need of sleep. He had many days of responsibility for Maria's safety stretched out before him.
“I wonder if the house will have a place where we can take a bath and real beds to sleep on,” Maria said quietly.
“I'm sure all houses in America have bathing facilities and beds,” Alberto answered. “Now, will you please get to sleep?”
There was a short pause. The only sound that could be heard was from the scratching of the dog that lay stretched out in front of the hearth.
Maria squirmed uneasily, her gown having worked up above her knees. “I wonder what type of work Papa found?” she whispered again.
“Hmm. It's funny. He never wrote of that,” Alberto said.
“And, isn't it just awful, Alberto?” she said even more softly. “Isn't what awful?”
“Oh, you know. Father warned us of the cruelties of a man named Nathan Hawkins and how terribly mean he is to the Italians who have settled in the same town Papa has.”
“Aren't you even a bit afraid, Maria?”
A burning anger made her dark eyes flash, trying to envision such a man. The Italians had planned to find a better life in America. Not a life of slavery. “No. I'm not afraid,” she hissed. “I am anxious to meet this evil man.”
“What?” he gasped loudly.
“Yes. I want to meet this man who is treating Papa and our people so po
orly.”
“Why the hell would you want to meet him? He'll try to be just as cruel to us.”
Maria had never been given cause yet in her life to hate. . . and was now feeling the difference it made inside herself as this hate continued to build, causing her to even suddenly feel like an entirely different person. She frowned deeply. “Why? Because there must be a way to make him pay for treating people so badly.”
“Maria,” Alberto sighed heavily. “Sometimes your sense of adventure gets in the way of logic.”
“But there does have to be a way, Alberto,” she said, sighing deeply. “There just has to be a way.”
“Get to sleep, Maria,” Alberto grumbled. “We've much to do in the next day or so.”
“Okay, Alberto. Good night.”
Maria felt a warmth next to her body, and welcomed her brother's arm thrown across her back. . . .
Chapter Two
One week at sea, and Maria and Alberto feared the worst. . . that possibly they wouldn't even have the opportunity to see the great expanse of rich land called America.
Huddled together in a corner, beneath a water-soaked blanket, they trembled in unison.
“I'm so afraid, Alberto,” Maria whispered, feeling a fresh, wild spray of sea water washing over the flooring of the ship, settling around her. “If only we could have afforded a cabin. What if we're even washed over-board?”
The ship continued to heave and pitch, and the wailing of the wind matched that of the many others who were also seeking a new way of life in America. Alberto lifted a corner of the blanket, to search his eyes around him, seeing once again the jammed upper deck of the crude ship called the Dolphin. As far as the eyes could see through the blur of the rain and the seawater's haze, bunks were lined up, filling the empty spaces of the upper deck, and on these bunks were members of families, huddled, sharing what had suddenly become a nightmare for all.
Feeling a sick ache at the pit of his stomach, Alberto pulled the blanket back down, a barrier being used to separate him and his sister from what mounting fear that he could … a fear that seemed to increase with each added lurch of the ship. He placed his arm around Maria and pulled her closer to him.
“It'll be all right, Maria,” he said thickly. “You'll see. It'll be all right.”
Maria reached for her violin case and placed it on her lap. “My poor violin,” she cried. “It will be warped for sure. Then how can I pull beautiful notes from it? How, Alberto?”
“If anything happens to your violin, we shall purchase you another one when we reach America. I promise you that.”
