A VOYAGE TO REMEMBER
Chapter Four
Isolde headed down to the
steerage dining area, for it had just passed seven o'clock and she was running
late from observing the sea from on deck. Long wooden tables stretched across
the room, with benches lining them. To a first class person, it would have
seemed like an unfurnished area unfit to even sit in, but to Isolde, who had
lived on a working farm her entire life, it seemed to be fit for a king. On
either side was a large buffet. It seemed that the areas were separated by the
language you spoke, but the room was not filled, for they still had a large
number of people in Ireland to pick up. She suddenly felt a hand on her
shoulder and spun around. Shamus, with his bright hair, grinned down at her.
She let out the breath she had been holding.
"Care to join a lad for
supper?" he asked in the booming voice that she was still trying to get
used to.
"All right," Isolde
said quietly. "Let me just grab a plate."
Shamus nodded and walked off to a
far table. It seemed to have only a few redheads. Many of the Irish had not
arrived yet. Isolde waited in line at the buffet. Every food she could imagine
was there. She had never seen this much food in her life, excluding the
harvest, of course. She sighed and went to the table. She was happy to see Aine
and Flynn sitting across from her. She sat on the end beside Shamus. He was
having a loud conversation with the man beside him.
"Ah…" he said after
noticing her. "Tommy Ryan, I would like you to meet the lovely Isolde
Conway."
"How do you do?" Tommy
asked, reaching across to shake her hand.
"Just fine," she
replied, sending him a smile.
The group talked and had many
laughs throughout dinner. Many of the families with children had returned to
their rooms. It seemed that only the young adults were left. The men lifted the
tables and moved them aside. A raised platform in the front was created and the
music started. A few men decided to play the fiddle, drums, and a few other
instruments. Many of the men were drinking or playing cards while the women
danced their hearts out. Isolde sat in a seat while quietly sipping her beer.
She'd rather watch and observe.
The party was in full swing when
Tommy yelled something to her while taking a gulp of his own drink.
"What?" she asked with
a laugh, trying to hear him over the noise.
He suddenly leaned in close and
spoke into her ear, as if it was the most obvious question in the world.
"Would you like to dance, lass?"
"I'm sorry," she said
loudly back. "I don't dance well."
"Do you know how to dance to
an Irish jig?" Tommy asked with a smile.
Isolde shook her head while
looking at her lap. Tommy didn't bother to ask, but pulled her from her seat to
the platform, which now seemed to be a dance floor. She barely had time to set
down her drink. He yelled at the men to put a jig on. The fast beat tempo
roared in Isolde's ears. She watched Tommy. His top half was completely still
with a serious look on his face. His legs moved at a rapid pace. He suddenly
combined the fancy moves while turning in a circle. He stopped and looked at
Isolde with a grin.
"You try!" he said over
the music.
Isolde smiled and lifted her
skirts up to attempt to see what she was doing. She tried to move her feet at
that pace, but failed miserably. These Irish dances were much too complicated
for her. She had only learned a few classic waltzes at the farm. She was having
fun, though, and kept going on anyway as Tommy watched her with a laugh. She
looked ridiculous, but her face was bright with smiles. Her hair bounced around
her as she tried to spin. During her spin, she managed to trip on her skirt and
fall to the ground. Tommy thought she was hurt when her hair hung over her
face, but he knelt before her and saw her laughing hysterically. He grabbed
both her hands and pulled her up to a standing position.
"Thank you for the
dance," Tommy said with a dramatic bow.
Isolde giggled. "It was an
honor," she said, giving him a curtsey.
She suddenly glanced at the clock
hanging on the wall. It was nearly 10:20. Isolde apologized and rushed from the
room. Jack caught a glimpse of her ash-colored skirt fluttering through the
door.
"I think your little friend
just left," Jack said to Shamus while glancing up from his cards.
"What?" Shamus asked
confusedly, his drink taking effect on him.
"The brunette girl with the
accent," Jack continued. "You sat with her at dinner."
"Oh," Shamus said while
looking back at his hand, his cigarette back in his mouth. His head suddenly
snapped up. "Oh!"
Jack laughed and shook his head
while watching Shamus stumble to the door after dropping his hand. Jack took a
quick look at the cards. He was winning. The Irishman called after her when he
saw her almost turn the corner in the hall. Isolde spun around and saw Shamus
stagger towards her. She cautiously looked at him. He was drunk; she didn't
know how he would act.
"Where are you going?"
he asked with a slur that was becoming more noticeable.
"I'm going for a walk on
deck and then to bed," she said simply, wrapping her shawl closely around
her arms.
"Do you want me to join
you?" he asked, leaning against the wall.
"No," Isolde said with
a smile, patting his arm. "You go and have a good time with your
friends."
Shamus stared at her for a moment
and then nodded. He turned around to join the party. Isolde continued her way
to Harold. She wouldn't let anyone stop her.