A/N: Well, this was for a SHORT US History assignment. We were suppose to create a diary of a ship to the New World. We had to include the hardships, deaths, and tragedy. ::Sarcastically:: As interesting as that *may* seem..enjoy!

March 11, 1611

The ground in which I stare is salted in fresh rainwater and it is so blatant in the air, I could practically lick it off. I look yonder, rolling hills of the Scottish plains stretching for miles beyond my own sight. The air lay bitterly upon this land, as still as can be. Even for the month of March, it is unusually chilly and though I have many clothes to warm me, a deathly chill still lingers.

I remember it all too clearly. It was only a dread day ago my husband and I escaped from my rich, plentiful home. I led no worries but a day ago, and lived in prosperity. Slaves ran busily, cooking the abundant food and served it hot and warm. The manor, which I had lived all my life, was beautiful. It sat abound the grassy, rolling hills, overlooking the salty sea. The smell of fish never left, although I complained of it often. The Manor of Glasdun was my home, the only home I've ever known, and in such a swift time, I was forced to flee it.

They had come during the middle of the night. The company was hungry with vengeance and hatred. Though, they should see no shame upon it, for I am the one who goes against their beliefs. I am not sure if it is the fact that I am not Christian, or the fact that I am defiant that startles them so.

"Make haste for I see their torches yonder!" I cried. A dread fear swept over my body as I saw a party of around fifty rise above the green hills. The farms, grown centuries ago and once worked by serfs, were gone and the only thing which separated them from my home was the sheer ground.

As my husband, Nolan, awoke, I briskly searched for things to pack. I raced through my room, in panic. As the things were packed, which included an array of bodices, chemises, skirts, shawls, and scraps of food, I ordered two servants to ready our horses. The fire had reached the outskirts of the manor. A dread flame devoured anything it could, and for a mere moment, it seemed I would be isolated to burn with it. Nay, I would not falter to such a fate!

I took a final look about the manor. My parent's old paintings and books would be gone by morning. But o! this was the ground in which my beloved parents walked, and it was holy to me, and only me. And I would be letting it burn to ashes.

Sorrowfully, I tied the only bag I owned to the mare's back. The flames were spreading quickly, o so quickly. Nolan raced from the stone building and a haunting red filled the air. And thus we traveled for hours until the dawn finally approached. We ate what food we had left and continued on our way. The horses were weary and in spite of it all, I had forgotten I was carrying a child. What a horrid time to, as well.

My servants escaped and did what they wanted. The men who tried to slay me thought they did, however they were wrong. I had escaped and I was rid of their constant hatred. For now, atleast.

My husband was not frank with me, nor disappointed, although I practiced a religion other than Christianity. No one favoured me, only him. They were either too afraid or disapproving of my ways. I was druid, alike my parents, and even in my hour of death, I would not turn to their god.

This is horrid, this life is horrid, and there is nothing more that could deplete me of my happiness. If it were not for the dependency Nolan had upon me, I would surely sacrifice myself.

Yours truly,

Fay O'Chelsey

March 13, 1611

Today was the final day of riding, for Nolan had informed me of a ship to the Americas! I do not know whether to be exited or dismal. Though, I wish not to leave my native land.

"My husband, you have heard stories of the Americas!" I cried as the streets of early dusk began forming.

And thus he replied: "And they have been nothing but good. Fay, we have a chance to start a new life and you may do what you wish with your goddess and not a single person shall bother you. I thought you would be ecstatic."

Yet, I was not. I was stubborn, shrewd, and I was leaving my homeland. I did feel neither frightened nor ashamed, however. Dismal, I was, and though I was to start a new life and have the good mortality those in America said they had, I felt empty for I was without money, shelter, and hope.

Yours truly,

Fay O'Chelsey

March 26, 1611

O! how I never expected such cruelty. I pray to the Goddess each night for help, though She offers little but the hope that she is still with me, despite the tide of Christianity. I took my life in the manor, the servants, the memory of my mother and father.

Though I may try, I only remember little of my parents. Her face was deathly pale, though she was still beautiful. My mother's hair was golden and despite the hardships she faced, she still remained golden and sacred. And my father was dark-haired and swarthy. He was so stubborn, though my mother loved him despite it.

I would give up anything in the world to see them again. I felt alone and unaided. Even Nolan could not pardon it. My shaw was now becoming less and less comforting against the coldness of the ship.

I brought nothing with me, save the bag. No money accompanied my husband or me. People thought of the ship ride so fervently and joyously, as though it was the boat that would one day bare them hither to a land of gold and riches. I thought of it as drear as I could. It was a horrid, horrid thing. The smell of fish was now greatly annoying, and it appended with the awful stench of human.

What a vile smell the populace was.

And o! how I wished for it all; the sound of the Celtic harps yonder, the clashing gray waves of the sea, and the rolling hills abound. Instead, fate has granted me with sickness, death, and atrocity.

Men are throwing the sick overboard for goodness' sake! We are starving and I crave for a sweet, hot meal like in the old days. Nolan has been the only person who dares comfort me. And yet, he depends on me as I do to him. If either of us died, I fear the other would follow.

And each day my stomach grows larger and conscious nags at me of guilt. And each day I say to myself: I am afraid of nothing, and I can bare this burden. Though, each day I am left thinking: Have I committed blasphemy? For there is no greater punishment than that. Nonetheless, I am positive I have not.

Yours,

Fay O'Chelsey

April 2, 1611

There is a woman aboard who calls herself Lorena. She is sweet-voiced with golden hair and a small, gentle face. The only woman I have been able to speak to is her, for she is the only woman aboard who speaks Gaelic. Though, when I speak with Lorena, I am reminded of my sorrow. She has lost her husband and four children and I fear the same for myself.

"Such a long trip," says she, staring into the ocean.

I look down, unwashed red hair like a curtain to my eyes, "And shall it ever cease? My eyes grow weary of staring into the endless sea, and my stomach ill of this rocking."

Lorena turned to me, icy eyes filling with water, "Would you prefer to stay in Scotland, hiding from those over-pious raiders? I think not! Life in the New World shall be rewarding, you shall see."

Though, I am certain it will not. Perhaps hiding would be better than staying aboard this deathly ship. Or is that not brave?

Yours,

-Fay O'Chelsey, Mistress of Glasdun

April 4, 1611

There has been a deadly outbreak of malaria aboard this ship. By the tens, they are shoving men, women, and children into the horrid blue, some not even dead! And I ponder of the decency of those onboard who are committing such. The Goddess would certainly not approve, for they are Her children and should be treated as such. Yet, the madness, like a disease of its own, is coming before any emotion.

The smell is sickening. I fear I will die of just that! Boredom is not the only burden I bare; though I thought that would be the only one. How foolish I was.

However, I do not fear for my own life, but those of Nolan and Lorena. He reminds me: "Have no worries, my Fay, it shall all pass." He thinks of me as stupid, some ignorant wife. I know that I may very well die. Is it that I am willing to face reality or I am gloomy that lead me to such pondering I do not know.

Yours,

Fay O'Chelsey

April 8, 1611

The population onboard has decreased to nearly half, I fear. We are beginning to become selfish, and I do not blame ourselves. The ship is crowded and there is dread food and drink. The deck is covered in the scent of fish and urine. No hope lingers but that of which we will survive this ill fate.

I think of myself as foolish when I look back at nearly a month ago and read the thought that life was horrible. I do not know how this doom could get worse. Dying seems better than being hunched up against a moldy wooden pole with dirty clothing and an empty stomach. However, this is only temporary. What will always tarry is the memory. If I could tie bricks to my feet and jump into the ocean, I would surely, though Nolan and Lorena depend on me more than I depend on myself. How unfair this came to be!

There is an olde piece of glass near the floor. I pick it up silently, for many are sleeping. My red hair is greasy and unwashed, pale, unmarked face drawn with worry, hazel eyes dim with depression. I am no longer the young, beautiful Fay of Glasdun, now I am a weary person aboard a doomed ship and carrying a child for goodness' sake! Yet, my appearance is not the only thing that has changed.

My vision is smeared and I sit alone in a deathly ship not wanting to close my eyes, or it will fall and I will certainly never cease from weeping.

I see Nolan and he pulls me into his loving arms, and for that mere moment I think of nothing but the love that I hold for him: no death, no misery, no fear.

O Goddess, do I pray this shall end soon.

Yours,

Fay

April 11, 1611

What a dread day. The sun did not come out from the horrid clouds, which lingered until dusk drew near. My child was born today, though I wish it was not so. A deadly stillness tarried in the air, and I feared for both of us. I chose to name her Nessa, for my mother's name was Ness.

She was a silent child, never whimpering. Her eyes were gray alike Nolan's, her skin pale and flawless, and hair golden like my mother. The only thing which made me smile at the slightest was the thought that Nessa looked like my mother.

People on the appalling ship did not approve of births. Lorena and another woman (though I could not identify for she did not speak Gaelic) assisted in the birth, solely. Others were to confined by their own selfishness to care about the welfare of others, simply themselves.

I made sure to thank each of them and with great praise.

Nolan was the most blithe, however. I was too weary (or perhaps sorrowful) to smile and was bound by repose the second I held her in my arms. Sleep, 'tis the only thing equal to death. I try to get as much as possible, though the stench keeps me awake for hours.

There is not a single moment which I do not feel faint. The sight of the dead decaying on board, the hunger, the malodor, it is all so horrible. I long to be held in someone's arms and be whispered sweet words of food, shelter, and land. I bet many aboard do as well.

Yours wearily,

Fay

April 25, 1611

I have been too grieved to write. The sickness of death and misery has indeed taken its toll, and the labour of feeding another mouth and having yet another depend solely on me is truly horrible. Though, beyond that there has been something that has driven my spirits far from here, or perhaps killed them.

I do not pray for the Goddess any longer, for although my entire life has been based upon the worship of Her, it seems as though She has abandoned my troubles and me. Fate has given me so many problems, countless problems, and all I ask for in return for my suffering is the comfort and safety of the one person who could make it better, and now he is gone.

It was a rainy day. The clouds never seemed to part and tarried for hours. The stillness in the air was haunting and fierceness of hunger devoured most movements. Something did not seem right, far from right.

As the shadow of night slowly crossed the land, the chill of early spring swept over the boat. It smelled ill, as always, and a light drizzle lingered upon the salty air. I figured stepping outside in the rain would wash both clothing and hair. In addition, I held my hands together just to clench a drip of fresh water.

The deck was particularly slippery and the risk of catching a cold was quite severe, though cleansing myself was more important, I feared.

Then I heard the faint voice of Nolan enter my ears: "Fay, my dear, it is raining! Please come back under the deck, I worry you shall catch a cold." He approached me, worry upon his fair face. I looked into his icy, misty eyes, and said thus: "Do you think I can stand it more in there than out here? There is more freedom out here, my husband. There is no awful stench, for it is all washed away, and no foul people to look upon, for they are all in the lower deck."

His eyes were pleading now. He should know not to try a shrewd woman in misery.

"Where is Nessa?" Nolan asked.

"She is with Lorena," I replied, wiping the rain from face, though more came swiftly. I tried to keep my voice as steady as possible, however fear and dread came over me as I attempted to sniff and turn my head unnoticeably. In this last week, I have wept more than in my entire life.

Yet, Nolan read me, and pulled me into his arms, cradling and rocking with the motion of the ship. It seemed better now, so much better. I was still weary from childbearing and my heart was still dread with misery, but in that single moment everything vanished.

He finally let go and I cried passionately: "I hate this horrid ship! I hate America! Why did we leave, Nolan? Was there nothing better? Colonist have lied, 'tis all lies! There is no happiness aboard this awful ship, only misery and death. I cannot handle in any longer! Pray for me when the Goddess has taken me."

And thus I pulled myself onto the wooden, soggy rail. My eyes steadied on the hungry water.

"Fay! Please, come back down!" He yelled, voice carried by the harsh wind. Something urged me to jump, swifter and swifter until I felt the mist of the salty sea cleanse me. As I felt an striking power (of death, perhaps), and hand caught mine.

"Let me go! Please, I beg of you! It will do me more good to see death than more misery!" Nolan's eyes were intensely pleading. I could then see five or six people staring at me as well, their eyes dark and miserable.

He pulled me back onto the ship, against my will. As I took my final step atop the railing, I no longer felt his comforting hand grab my own. And thus, he instead of me, was to the mercy of the clashing sea. I called his name, wishing anything but that, until I saw nothing but the gray sea, violent and deadly.

Lorena came to me swiftly and held me as I felt the sharpness of tears strike me down. "'Twas my fault he died! 'Twas my fault!" I continued yelling in my own sorrow and rage. And she set her body next to my own and wept bitterly with me until the darkness of the night made it unable to sea.

Alas, there was no funeral, no flowers, no prayer for him. But o! I pulled a golden ring he had given me and threw it into the sea and said thus: "May the Goddess watch you, always." And headed to the wretched cabin, alone, completely alone.

Yours sorrowfully,

Fay, wife of Nolan, Mistress of Glasdun

May 1, 1611

I sit alone and confined in a small space near the stairs. My eyes are weary of weeping and my heart fell of sorrow. Nessa is with me, at my breast, gray eyes sparkling. O! how lucky she was not to see this horror.

Another disease has swept over the ship, though if I die, I would not care. The sick are numbering up to ten already, and it has been but three days! How I wish I could be back at Glasdun, rolling hills in my present, clean air abound. And how I wish my mother and father could be at my side, petting me and letting me weep freely.

I fear Lorena has caught it, whatever it may be. Her eyes are rimmed with redness, throat burning, and weariness never ceasing. What a horrid way to die, I tell myself every moment I stare into her crisp eyes.

"Fay, when you get to America, look after Nessa very well. I love her as I love my own child," said she, sickness blatant.

I replied calmly: "You can look after her for you shall go to America with me and we shall be neighbors."

"You are terrible at lying," Lorena smiled, blonde hair stringy and wet with fever. "Please, you must promise me for you and Nessa are all the hope I have."

"Very well," I petted her hair, soothing her, because with my luck, I would not catch it and live my life in misery.

Yours,

Fay

May 7, 1161

Lorena died the day after she spoke these words. I wept bitterly and cursed and struck the wooden pole as I did when Nolan died. It was merely Nessa and I now. It was Nessa and I against disease, hunger, death, misery…I feel as though I can write no more until a tiny morsel of happiness is restored to my body.

-Fay

May 14, 1161

I see land yonder! It is flat with dark pines and miles of grass. 'Tis the best sight I have seen all ship ride. Praise the Great Goddess! Praise the Great Goddess! I am more blissful than I have ever been. Though, I do wish Lorena and Nolan were standing beside me. Most happiness is lost because they are not with me. I killed Nolan, if I would have not been so miserable, he would have lived. And if Lorena had held on just a week longer!

'Tis just Nessa and me.

As the ship came to a halt, sound of scraping against the dirt and sand of the shore, I felt the excitement overwhelm me. The air was so fresh and clean I could breath it in like I could drink water! The only smell was the faint smell of vomit and sea, which bothered me less and less.

The people on the ship stared wide-eyed at the gorgeous site, as did I. We were all in complete awe at the beauty of America. As the wooden bridge was lowered, the people ran to escape, escape the misery, the death, the smell, the loss of food…

I picked up Nessa who was sleeping peacefully in my royal blue shaw near the lower deck. I had sailed to America, and I had lived.

As my torn and tattered feet stepped onto the sand of the continent, I nearly lost my breath. Though, I felt extraordinary. My eyes scanned the area, looking yonder at the grace and delicate nature of the New World and I gasped in amazement. Never again would I have to face that horrible ship.

I pulled the bag onto my weary back and as I attempted to wake up Nessa, I finally realized that she could never be woken up, she was dead.

I was alone and unaided in a frightful New World, though, even through the bitter weeping, I was no longer afraid of anything. I set down the dead child and got on my knees crying mercifully: "Praise Thee! Praise thy Goddess! Take her kindly! O Goddess!" until my voice was raspy and torn.

Then, I dug a hole and buried Nessa deep inside the earth. Coming to America was not worth it, I had lost too much. No matter the beauty of this place, the cleanness of the air, there was no one to enjoy it with. Now, more than ever, I wished to be home in Glasdun, overlooking the sea and rolling hills of Scotland. However, I knew that would never happen.

Finally, I picked up my lone bag and started walking, started my new life, more miserable than the last.

Yours truly,

Fay O'Chelsey