Free Touched by Fire by Irene N.Watts

words: “Hurry up.” Rosie shakes my shoulder. For a moment, I don’t know where I am.
What does she want?
I cannot have slept all the way to America. I look up at the huge ship towering over us and read the name on the side, SS
Amerika
.
    Officials herd us up a gangway and check our tickets and luggage. Then we are on board! An officer points us towards a twisting staircase that leads down to the lowest deck, where we will spend the next fourteen days. There is no time to look at anything. Rosie is behind me and warns me not to fall.
    The stairs are very narrow and seem to go down forever. I have trouble managing my belongings. People jostle, trying to calm excited or fretful children. Some women are sobbing because they have been separated from their husbands, sons, or fathers. I turn my head to look for Rosie, but now there are several women between us. I have lost sight of her. I drag my suitcase with one hand, my other holds the basket, and my bundle is somehow wedged under the same arm. I am in front of an impatient woman who deliberately pushes me.
    “I’m moving as fast as I can,” I say, turning my head to look at her. She is huge and wears numerous shawls over her bulky frame. I feel dizzy from trying to keep upright and prevent my possessions from slipping away from me.
    “Go on, you’re holding us all up,” she says, poking me with the corner of her case. She tries to get past me on the stairs.
Why is she in such a hurry?
The ship won’t leave till all the passengers are settled. I catch my heel on the slippery iron step, but even without a hand free to grip the railing, I manage to stumble on into the darkness without falling. Once down, it is like landing in a cold dark pit.
    A steward in a white coat stands at the bottom of the stairs, which I thought would never end. He points towards the long, narrow, dark corridor, which he calls an alleyway, to find our berths.
    I pause for a moment to catch my breath and wish I hadn’t, for the air is foul and damp, smelling of bodies, sweat, and fear. Mixed in are the odors of grease, wet wool, and oil. We are deep in the hold of the ship, close to the engines. Something runs over my foot.
Is it a rat?
Of course I’ve seen rats before, skittering over the cobbles in the Barn Quarter, beady eyes staring out from under pushcarts, but this close? Ugh, it is all I can do not to scream!
    The steward orders us to move along. I suppose the men’s cabins are at the other end of the ship. I’ve never been on a liner before and have no idea how things are arranged. I’ll make sure I find out, the way I always do. I’m not afraid of pogroms or fire here, but I need to know what to do if something bad happens. The first chance I get, I will go up on deck and find out where the lifeboats are.
    This is not the time to think about danger. Everyone on board has been saving and waiting for this moment. What is important is to remember how lucky I am to be going to my papa. As I walk past rows of little rooms like train compartments, peering through the narrow open doors of each one, I look for berths for Rosie and me. So far, they are already occupied by women and girls of every shape and size, speaking in Yiddish, Polish, German, Italian, and Russian. There seem to be four wooden tiers of bunks on each side and not much space in between.
Wherever are we going to keep our luggage?
The first ten cabins are already full or have only one empty bunk left. Rosie and I decided to try for two top berths, so that we’ll be more private. We’ll be the ones climbing over other passengers, not the other way around. I smile, thinking of the fat lady trying to climb up onto the narrow berth.
    I’m out of luck – the next three cabins are full too. I’ve just about given up hope of finding two upper berths, when I discover the next cabin is still unoccupied. Slipping on the greasy floor, I almost fall again in my eagerness to claim our berths.
    I throw my bundle on the top bunk and