Even as they watched the light breaking brighter and brighter, the ship’s whistle gave three loud blasts. There were three more from shore, and Nan clutched Bess’s arm. “See, there it is—Ireland, the coast of Ireland. See the lights?”
“Sure an’ ’tis me home,” Maureen had come up behind them, “the grandest place in all the world.”
“What county is that?” Nan looked to Maureen for information.
“I’m not so certain,” Maureen replied, “but I’m after thinking that that’s the coast of Donegal, and a lovelier spot you’ll not find for many miles. Beyond lies Londonderry and after that you’ll be seeing Portrush and then at last Belfast! It’s beauty, beauty all the way.
“Your America, it’s fine and grand with all its tall buildings and great cities, but me heart is warm for Ireland. There me mother and father and little brothers and sisters will be waiting. Oh, it’s good to be back.” Maureen wiped tears from her eyes.
“Come, Maureen,” Nan and Bess were close to tears too, for her pang of homesickness had turned their own thoughts back to America. “Come, let’s go down into the dining room. Let’s see if we can find one big table so that we can all have this last breakfast together.” As she finished speaking, Nan tucked Maureen’s arm through hers and started.
It was a merry breakfast and a sad one in the weird light of the dining room, half daylight, half electricity. There were people glad to be home and people sad to be parting from newfound friends. Breakfast was eaten hastily, so that everyone was up on deck waving goodbyes, calling last minute messages, urging care, and trying to joke, all in one breath, as the great steamer settled to anchor and a small tender nestled up to it.
Maureen’s dad, a burly looking Irishman with eyes of the deepest blue and lashes long and heavy, came aboard and took her in his arms. “Sure and ’tis good to have me baby home agin,” he said. “And it’s mighty fine you’re looking in that perky new bonnet.” He pushed her straw hat up and looked into her eyes. “And it’s not changed a bit you are after all that long journey,” he added.
He turned to her friends, “And you’ll not be comin’ to Ireland this trip?” He sounded genuinely disappointed. “But you’ll be comin’ back.” He smiled kindly down upon them all. “And then you’ll be stoppin’ here and we’ll be meetin’ you and you’ll be off to Dublin Town with the likes of us.”
Nan liked Maureen’s father. So did her friends. As he and Maureen went across the gang-plank to the tender, they all hung over the rail and waved. “We’ll be seeing you in London,” Nan called.