Note: I am full grown in this little assignment, or you can pretend that I'm an orphan fourteen-year old girl. Journal Entries Kristen Ohlemeier

12/15/02

A. History

Stucky B-4

March 2, 1885, We set sail at four in the morning to the delight of everybody aboard from England of 85'. We shall reach Boston, Massachusetts in November of 85. This I am glad of for I do not want to spend restless nights aboard a cramped boat in the dead of winter. I shudder to think of sleeping any longer with the icy cold winds of the sea whipping across the upper decks and through the portholes of the lower decks to chill the passengers.

The sun has risen and there is not a cloud in the sky. The gentle rocking of the Mary Queen is welcomed merrily, putting infants to sleep, lulling older children to daydreams. I have caught myself either daydreaming or nodding off to sleep. You wouldn't guess that a long and perilous journey lay ahead of us aboard this vessel of loving people and jolly crew members.

April 10, 1885, Spirits, which were soaring for the first two weeks of the journey are now at a low. Ten passengers have caught influenza and three crew members came down with the fatal disease of Scurvy. Those poor people are getting worse and worse everyday, but the hardest part of having that sickness is that there is nothing that we can do about it.

Every night I pray for my health, the health of others, and pray that the voyage will not have any more sickness on this beautiful ferry, but I know that is an inevitable feat. My insides squirm every night with worry that I may come down with any of those two diseases that have found their way aboard.

I believe that the young orphan child beside may be coming down with pneumonia. His teeth are constantly clattering, his young-self shaking with fever. I have prayed that he will make the journey whole and healthy, but my hopes are running out for him. I have decided that if he does come down with illness that I will take care of him to the best of my ability and with the few resources at my disposal.

July 6, 1885, I really need to get after myself for not writing in my journal. Twenty-five people have died from influenza or pneumonia, but that doesn't include the orphan boy, whom I had taken it upon myself to care for. It is by pure miracle that he's still alive, but I must shoo him away from me. I believe I'm coming down with the flu myself. Shivering and shaking, it has now become difficult to choke down my food, hold a fork, and not to mention write.

One of the three, crew members that had caught scurvy went insane one frightful night. Running raving mad on the deck, scaring the remaining children half to death. It took three other boat attendants to subdue him. He ended up committing suicide dragging one of the boat attendants with him. It's hard to imagine death happening on that beautiful day, but it struck our dwindling population.

October 20, 1885, Spirits have gone up a little since we found out that we have less than a month left on this horrid boat of death. I no longer see this sleek craft as ferry to freedom, but more like a ferry to death.

In my last entry I did indeed catch the pneumonia, but the little boy I had helped get through the disease, helped me through as well. He told me that he had been in my debt since he had recovered. I think him immensely for the care he gave me and the encouragement to keep alive, I believe helped me survive on this crossing of seas.

November 12, 1885, The waves of the vast ocean rocked the ship violently as a storm ravaged the upper decks. It's icy cold wind stinging any exposed flesh. The lower decks weren't any better however. The freezing sea spray drenched us all in it's cold embrace.

The infants, children, and adults all cried out in pain, shock, and fever. Practically everybody has had some sort of sickness. Most of the passengers that have died were tiny infants, children, and the elderly. I have wept for all those lost on this passage of long months.

My hopes of sighting land any time soon are growing dimmer and dimmer as the sunlight fades from us. Winter is coming much too fast for my taste and it has left a bitter mood among the travelers and crew. My prayers that I will survive each day are becoming fewer and fewer.

November 16, 1885, The mood has changed dramatically since the watchman on deck at about three in the morning spotted the Boston Harbor lights. I could not ask for a more inviting sight. I was actually crying with glee at the prospect of finally reaching America. I must go and prepare my things for arrival and tell the young boy that we've made it to the land of freedom. I bid you farewell and wish you better fortune than I.