Tell Them I'll Be There by Gerard Mac Read Free Book Online Page B

at St Patrick’s. It helped that the officer was Irish and that Caitlin had her aunt’s address to go to. When the group divided into channels, male and female, Caitlin was chaperoned by the wife of the man from Courtown.
    Many people sharing a voyage and passing through Ellis Island made friends en route , friendships that lasted sometimes for the rest of their lives. Dan and his brothers and the young man from Courtown and his family vowed to keep in touch.
    It was a long trolley ride to Brooklyn but the boys and Caitlin were enthralled, enjoying every minute as they took in their first impression of Manhattan Island. From the Dublin boat the skyline along the Liverpool waterfront had seemed somehow majestic and intimidating but here the sheer height of the skyscrapers took their breath away as they leaned forward, crouching low to see the tops of the vertical buildings.
    It was fortunate. Dan realized when the trolley came to their stop, that before crossing the East River they had seen some of the better sights the city had to offer.
    â€˜Scholes Street!’ the driver called. Then: ‘Didn’t somebody want this dump?’
    â€˜Oh yes, sir,’ Dan said suddenly. And all four scrambled for the exit, thanking the driver profusely as Dan asked, ‘Is this it?’
    â€˜Guess so, son,’ the driver said. ‘The Navy Yard down there. OK?’
    â€˜Thank you,’ Dan said. ‘Thank you very much.’
    They watched from the grey sidewalk as the trolley car rattled on its way. Three boys in flat caps and clothing that marked them out to the casual observer as ‘new arrivals’, Caitlin’s cotton dress barely adequate even in that oppressive and humid July.
    At Immigration when asked if they had an address to go to, Dan had given the address of Caitlin’s Aunt Maureen who lived in some place called Albany. Do you know how to get there? he was asked. Oh yes, sir, he said with Tim in the background shaking his head at the lie. But Dan didn’t want any complications . He just wanted to get through. 
    On the dockside at Battery Park men of various nationalities and religions offered accommodation. A man wearing a cloth shamrock at his lapel gave them a piece of paper with the name O’Malley’s Guest House, Scholes Street off Manhattan Avenue, near the Navy Yard, Brooklyn, scrawled in pencil. It sounded all right but by now Dan was not impressed. Already a blueprint of the city was taking shape in his head. He only had to experience a place once and he could find his way around. Tim was the same but Michael could get lost in their own village – or so they teased him.
    Sitting quietly, watching the streets go by, Dan had noticed how the hotels and buildings looked shabbier at this ragged edge of town. He guessed that where they were heading would not be up to much and he was right. On Scholes Street they ran into trouble.
    It was just going dark as they ambled along examining the brownstone houses for the name ‘O’Malley’. Most of the shops now were at the Avenue end except for a grocery store and a tobacco shop. Further down was a small police station. Sailors in twos and threes on what they called shore leave were heading across the river.
    As the Dolan boys and Caitlin drew near a group in their whites, exhilarated at the prospect of a night out, decided it was time for some fun at the expense of these ‘micks’ as they called all Irish immigrants. At once they began to hurl abuse and taunt the already disorientated four. The boys ignored them until one of them made a gesture and uttered an obscenity that was clearly heard by Caitlin.
    Michael, who was closest to the sailor, reacted with a startling ferocity. He grabbed the sailor by the flapping collar of his uniform, swung him round and rammed his head against a brick wall. Two of the other sailors came to their friend’s aid but, just as incensed, Dan barred their way, his