I sat in total darkness thinking of what had happened that day: I, Sarah White, was traveling to America, on a ship the Currier is its name. Yes, I have left my beloved Sweden, something I never dreamed in my life I would do. But it is said there is much gold in America. Perhaps Papa will become rich, perhaps... I should go no further. I believe I should keep heart, but when does heart turn over to greed? I must watch myself.
In my hands I clenched all my belongings: a diary, bundle of clothing, and a tiny sea shell. The shell was priceless to me, for my Mother had given it to me before she passed away. A tear began to trickle down my face. Roughly, I wiped it away. I began to talk, very quietly to myself: "You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Sarah! A big girl of 15 like you, crying! For shame!"
I looked down at my dairy, even though I couldn't see it, I knew it was there. My Papa had given it to me, long ago, and I loved it, (I still do love it!) and had written every word so painstakingly that there was still blank pages. But the diary, that too was shameful; I hadn't time to write anymore! I, being after all, the eldest, not to mention the only woman of the household (which consists of my Papa and two brothers: James and Michael), the responsibilities rushed in after my Mother died. I could not even write at night because that would mean candles, and that would mean money and that we do not have. If only I could write now, with nothing to do. But it was so dark in our cabin, and rarely did we get to go out, and if we did everyone(yes, and me), was so absorbed in taking in all the fresh, good air possible all thoughts of writing vanished in the blink of an eye. Oh well, as they say: (and I am ashamed to say that I began to talk out loud) "All play and no work..."
"What are you thinking of, my little Sarah?" Papa's voice came across the room.
How wretched of me! As if Papa didn't have enough work of his own! I ought not to be complaining!
"Nothing Papa."
"That's not true, Sarah darling." Papa replied. How dare I tell Papa, or anyone, something that's not true! It's unlawful. I prayed. Then I spoke to Papa again.
"I...I...was...well...thinking of...of...of...well...I..." I stuttered.
"Never mind Sarah. I know what it is." Papa said.
I sighed. Papa is so very smart. But next time I will answer him. Straight forward.
***
The ship rocked. My stomach turned. I groaned. I was beginning to feel ill. My head ached. I was so miserable. "I must be strong" I said to myself "I must..." I vomited. Then I felt my papa's arms come around me and I fainted.
***
When I came around I was laying in a bed, still in complete darkness. I was still gripping my only belongings. My stomach was soar, my throat was dry, and my head ached so badly I thought it might burst.
I could hear someone singing, a song that I knew, but I could not think of who or what it was.
Then my Papa touched me. gently, but I knew it was him.
"Sarah?" He said to me, quietly.
"Yes Papa?" I croaked.
"You had your Papa worrying there, Sarah dearest. Do you realize how long you where unconscious?"
"No Papa." I squeaked.
"Three days, Sarah, three whole days. I thought I might lose you."
"Oh, Pap..." my voice cracked. And, I thought my head might have cracked too, actually.
My papa knelt down and hugged me, somehow sent rays of hope through me. I felt courage. Papa whispered in my ear:
"Tomorrow, we may reach land." I sighed contentedly, even though I didn't quiet understand the wonderful news papa had just told me, I knew it was something nice. Then I fell into a peaceful, deep sleep.
When I woke there was no sound. No sound but my heart's beat, which seamed so loud. I couldn't know if it was night or day, but I supposed it was night since there was no one with me. My head felt a little better, so I began to think of ways to amuse myself. I must say I have quiet an imagination, and now I suppose, will be one of the times it will come in handy, although usually, all it does is cause me to stop what I am doing, seemingly to do nothing. My thoughts drifted now and I began to think of America. I think there will be lots of trees, yes, and lots of streams and flowers. A very pretty place to be. And I think the first thing James will do is pick me some flowers to put in my hair. James is very sweet like that. I guess he'll grow out of it one day, but since he's only five, there is no harm done in being sweet to his sister, is there? At least not in Sweden. What will the people be like in America? Will the boys bully James for being so sweet? If they do I'm sure Michael will lick them good, and that will cause trouble, and then, oh, how Papa will scold! I mustn’t fret now. I must be good. That will be their affair, not mine. "Yes, Sarah," I said to myself "you are a nosy little thing, you know it?" "yes, I know it." I replied to myself. I giggled. I have a way of talking to myself I suppose. I mostly scold. I wonder if I will have any friends when we get to America? Yes, I think I would like that. Who doesn't? Although, I miss my dear friends from back home so much that I'm sure I couldn't love them near as much. Let me see, I think that I would like my friend's name to be Margaret. Yes, and I will call her Meg. Or Maggie, because that sounds sweet and friendly. Or perhaps her name could be Rose. That sounds fresh and springy. Or no, it could be Margaret Rose. Yes, that sounds nice. Both together. Yes. And I shall call her Maggie Roses, (I giggled) just between us. But what will she call me? There's not so much you can do to Sarah. Just plain old Sarah. The only thing I can think of is Sarry, and that sounds well, sorry. I sighed. Mother liked my name. I ought to be proud of it. Then a thought crossed my mind: Not only did Papa and Mother give me the sea shell and the diary; they gave me my name. Something I can't possibly lose. And I'll keep it with great pride.
Just then I heard steps coming toward me, I didn't know who it was, but I knew it wasn't Papa. Then the someone was right beside me standing over me.
"Sarah...Sarah, i's me. You better now. right?" I heard. It was James.
"Jamesy darling. What time of day of night is it?"
"It morning Sarah. early. Is Sarah better now?" James still talked like a baby.
"James," Papa came in and said. "You may leave."
"Yes Pappy." James replied. 'Pappy' was what James called Papa.
"It's morning Sarah." Papa spoke to me.
"yes Papa."
"And, land has been sighted."
"PAPA!"
"Yes Sarah, but it will take at least a day to reach it."
'"Oh Papa." My voice spelled bitter disappointment.
"I have to go Sarah. Go to sleep if you can." And then, Papa left.
I closed my eyes and, like Papa said, I tried to sleep. But, I couldn't. Thoughts of America wouldn't leave my head. Land had been sighted. Yes! America. Or, was it? Papa hadn't said. I was sure it was. It must be. And if it was that meant it was home. Home. Yes, I like the sound of that: America is my home. And I shall have a friend named Margaret Rose(Maggie Roses) and we shall love each other dearly. I lay awake for what seemed like hours then I finally did fall asleep. When I woke up I heard much commotion above me. many people were moving around. "We're here!" I said out loud to myself "We have finally reached America! My home!" I was so excited that I jumped up, and flung myself around, looking for the door. Finally, I found it and I ran out. I ran into stair case which quickly I ascended and when I arrived at the top, the light nearly blinded me.
"Hey, girl!" a voice called out "You go back quick, we can't have none of you up here now! Go!" Obediently, I turned and descended the stair case. Again, all was blackness. I sighed and groped my way back to my room and sat down on my bed. I waited. And waited. Until Papa came in.
"Sarah." He said in a firm voice.
"Yes Papa?" My voice was uncertain and questioning. Was he upset with me because I had run up the flight of stairs, when I wasn't wanted? It seemed for forever before the suspense was broken, and father spoke:
"It isn't America, Sarah." was all he said. My heart sank. Wasn't America! No, no, that couldn't be! But Papa had said it, sure enough.
"But Papa!" I nearly screamed. I got some wild notion into me that it was his fault. "But Papa!"
"I know, Little Sarah, I'm upset too. But we must get over it. the question is: do we stay here? Or, do we go on, and hope to find America?"
"Not go to America!! But Papa! Surely you don't mean that!"
"Yes, Sarah. I do."
"Well, Papa," I sighed quietly "It is your choice."
"Sarah, I asked you a question: Do we stay or not?" Papa was firm.
"I don't know Papa." I had to think. And believe me, I was, my mind reeled: Stay here? Were is here? Is there a village? Will we be on our own? Are other families from the Courier staying here? How long did we have to decide? Did Papa already ask Michael? He was 13, he might have some logical input. But Papa had asked me and that was all I need worry about. Would America be hard to find from here? Did the sailors know the way?
"What about Michael?" I asked, even though, perhaps I shouldn't have.
"I haven't asked him yet." Papa replied. "But, James wants to stay, even though his reasons aren't good ones(he doesn't like being on the ship), he is still a member of the family, and thus, his choice must also be considered."
"Papa? What is the land like?"
"There's my sweet, sensible daughter: it is good, and the hunting will be profitable."
"And Papa, is anyone else staying here?"
"Yes, Sarah. five other family's have already decided to stay here." I would much rather be 'Sarah of America' than 'Sarah of somewhere we don't know what is' but, it might better for all of us.
"I am not sure. Papa," I said "perhaps we ought to stay? It may be safer."
"that is what I am thinking Sarah, it may, and we might have to take that chance."
Papa agreeing with me gave me comfidence."Yes Papa. I think that we ought to stay. It is safer. If other families stay also. How many did you say Papa? Five? Well, more would be better, bur, all the same, perhaps it's for the better, the less people the less mouths to feed, but, also the less help we have if there is to be trouble, which I'm sure there will be sometime, still, it might be good, because even then less people to get in the way, but it depends on the problem, if for instants if was to be a bear, well, we could shot that, and even eat it-I like bear meat, don't you Papa?- but if we, somehow happen to be attacked by savages then the more people we have, the better the odds, but..."
"Sarah, would you let me get a word in edgewise?"
"Yes, Papa." I said shamefully.
"We will stay."
"Yes, Papa." I said in a quiet voice.
"I shall tell Michael and James. Are all your things together?"
"Yes, Papa." How could they be otherwise? But, I must not be saucy. Papa left the room. All the same, I believe I'll make sure that it's all there. I dug into my sack: two bonnets, three dresses, three aprons and my ink and quill. Yes, that's all right. Then I felt my diary, just to make sure, and my shell. I have everything. Now what? I can't just sit here, can I? Papa didn't say to go anywhere though. But still, I mustn't be to dependent on him. But he did tell me to gather my things. I'll stay here till I'm told otherwise.
My Papa came back. I couldn't see him, but I heard him and I knew it was him. He had Michael and Jamesy with him.
"Come along Sarah, their ready for us above." I followed close behind Papa into the blinding light. When I could open my eyes I saw the land that we where by. It was a very beautiful place, although I could not see all of it, it was a nice little beach, and I could see lush, green grass and trees and streams later on.
"Oh Papa!" I exclaimed "It's beautiful!"
"Yes Sarah, it is." was all Papa said, and I knew not to bother him any more than I had.
We were permitted to go on land, for good, I half heartedly hoped. I wouldn't miss the ship, and I certainly hoped this land would be good. yes, I certainly hope so. As we stepped ashore I hoped for the best.
***(several weeks go by, in which a small village is established, but Sarah is still not used to the new land yet)***
Papa has said that I might write in my diary now, and so I stepped outside to do so. I sat down next to the house in a little chair that Papa made. This is what I wrote:
I have not written since we left Sweden. That was five months ago. I believe I have become more of a woman since then. I look more like a woman. You, my diary are my one little childish pleasure, did you know? Yes, you are. But this shall be the last time I write in you, my diary, Because as I said; I'm woman now.
It began to come to me then: I had left my home, my Sweden, I had set out for America, and made it only this far. I still wish that we could go on to America, but this I am sure will be better for the safety and health of the family, I have left all my dear friends, my house, my relations, every physical thing that I took comfort in now left behind. Now I willingly give up my diary that I so longed for. Call it what you will, I call it courage.