THE DUNBRODY FAMINE SHIP

You may remember that one of my goals for this trip was to discover the journey my Great-Grandmother may have taken from her home in County Westmeath to the port from which she sailed enroute to New York, probably in the 1850s (after the worst of the Irish Famine, but during the years of massive emigration from Ireland.)  I had grown up with the tradition that Great-Grandma, at the age of twelve, was put onto a sailing ship somewhere along the coast of Ireland, trusting that she would be met by her two older brothers in New York.  She was alone, and "Aunt Hettie" placed a black shawl around her shoulders to keep her warm during the trip.  (That black shawl is on the top shelf of the closet in the office, by the way, wrapped in tissue paper.)  That tale has haunted me, inspired me, and made me question if I might have inherited any of the O'Connor(s) strength of character.

Then, a number of years ago I was contacted by a distant cousin on Grandma's side who was beginning a genealogical search of her mother's side of the family.  Our common denominator was Great-Grandma O'Connor(s).  Cousin Shannon had grown up with the same touching tale of Great-Grandma sailing to New York as a lone child.  Recently, however, she had come across a different version.  Obviously, Great-Grandma did emigrate here, but it may have been in the company of her mother and brothers, forced from Ireland because of high taxation after the death of her father.  She may have landed in New York, but the family ended up in the Chicago area with Great-Grandma matriculating at a girls "finishing school."  Wow! Our version had been that Great-Grandma was a servant girl in New York, or wherever little Irish girls fresh off the boat were employed.  Either story is fascinating, and it's probably a toss-up as to which version is true..  No matter which, Great-Grandma proved to be a strong and exceedingly tough woman who, per my Mom, drove my grandfather crazy, and eventually wore down a Midwestern Catholic Bishop who could take no more and finally built a church in the small community of Herrington, Kansas.

So...today, we're driving to the Dunbrody Famine Ship, the reconstruction of an actual ship that sailed from Ireland to various points in the New World from 1845 until it was wrecked in 1875.  No matter whether Great-Grandma was in steerage or a cabin, this is most likely the type of ship on which she sailed.

BC was stunned at how small this ship (technically a barque) really was, considering it criss-crossed the Atlantic for years.  Steerage passengers truly lived in sub-human conditions, and the term "coffin" ship was coined because, often, half the passengers died before they reached America.

If you were in steerage, which G-G'ma may have been, your entire family lived on and in this bunk along with their belongings. In her case, if she was alone, perhaps a relative or someone she knew would let her live on their bunk. She would not have had her own. 

I believe there were twenty such bunks on this ship--ten on one side and ten on the other.  The toilet (a bucket) was under the stairs--emptied if the weather allowed access to the deck, otherwise not.  Steerage passengers brought their own food with them as they boarded.  If weather permitted, passengers were taken to the deck to cook their meager meals, otherwise they ate bread, baked before the voyage.  The hatch could be opened, but was often kept shut.  The largest number of passengers the Dunbrody ever carried was 179.  As a comparison, the twenty tourists in our group made it seem uncomfortably crowded!

The "interactive" part of this tour included two women--one a passenger in steerage, the other a well-heeled matron sailing in a cabin.  As we sat in the section of bunks pictured above, a worn woman carrying a baby dragged in and began to tell us her story.  She and her husband, with their five children, were sailing to the New World in search of anything because, for them, anything was better than starving in Ireland.  Unfortunately, her husband had just passed away and been buried at sea, and she was now alone with her children.  Her story--true enough, I know--though delivered calmly, if not fatalistically, was intense and I, for one, thought..."There but for the grace of God..."

As the poor woman crept out of our area, the woman (above with BC) who, with her husband and children, was traveling in one of the forward cabins, marched in.  Her family had paid 25 pounds each for this voyage, and she was not getting her money's worth.  She and her husband were sailing to America to manage a prosperous shop for her husband's brother.  (The smart one who left Ireland early.)  She was disgusted with the ship, the food (her family ate with the captain), and especially those filthy steerage passengers and their families.  "So thin they frighten my children," she snarled.  She wouldn't have to be making this trip if it wasn't for these ne'er-do-wells who hadn't paid their accounts at her family's store or, frankly, if her husband hadn't allowed them to carry an account.  She glared at our group, whirled, pointed to BC and accused, "You, Sir!  You look familiar. You owe me money!"  A weaker man would have fallen backwards off the bench but BC--without a pause--pointed back heatedly and announced, "That wasn't me.  That was my brother!"  And thus began one of the best improvisations I've ever seen.  She was trained, BC was winging it.  The exchange lasted a few minutes, ending only after she threatened to call in the captain and BC jumped to his feet, and shouted, "You do that!  Get the captain."  She marched out calling "Captain, Captain"...dignity mostly intact.  BC got applause!  I passed out.  As you can see, our haughty passenger and BC stayed best of friends as our paths continued to cross while we visited the Dunbrody Emigration Visitor Center.

Later in the day, we drove back to Kilkenny stopping along or turning off the road as we saw interesting views, signs or sites.

A tiny stream near a roadside chapel.

The wonderful dry-laid stone walls along the road.

Yes, we crossed this bridge coming into Inistoge.

Jerpoint Abbey:  A Cistercian Abbey dating from the 12th century which eventually became the property of the Butler family of Kilkenny Castle fame.  Ireland is a small island.

BC even looks kind of Irish. Maybe, except for the sneakers.