The Next Ship Home: A Novel of Ellis Island

“I’m sure you’d do the same for someone in need,” Alma said warmly.

But Francesca didn’t know if she would be so giving to a stranger. She thought again of the stolen bills she’d taken in the bunkhouse and shook her head. “Not everyone would do what you have done.”

Alma smiled, her pleasure evident by the glint in her eyes. “I’m glad you’ll get to meet my brother Fritz, too. He helped me convince Mr. Lancaster to hire you. He said he’d like to meet this woman who has managed to convince his dutiful sister to be so bold.”

She smiled. “I meet your brother.”

Alma glanced at the docks as a ferry pulled in with a new load of passengers. She sighed heavily. “I’d better get to my post. I’m about to be very busy. And we need to cancel your reservation for the ship!”

“Andiamo!” Francesca said, following her new friend inside, her spirits flying as high as the gulls wheeling across the sky.

*

Travel case in hand, Francesca joined the line in the registry room. Hundreds of people were waiting in various lines and on benches, waiting to be called for final inspections. She watched the inspectors from a distance, how they looked over their notes and asked the immigrants questions. The process lasted a matter of minutes, sometimes even seconds. At that point, they’d wave the immigrant through, or for the occasional few, the immigrants were asked to step aside to await further instruction. At last, she wouldn’t be one of them.

Eyes fixed on the staircase leading to the exit, she couldn’t help but daydream about what lay ahead. The Lancasters were so wealthy she could scarcely imagine what their home would be like. Their kitchen must be large, stocked with beautiful cookware and herbs and foods she’d never seen before. She’d work hard to learn new dishes and new techniques, do her best to please them. Her cooking skills were rudimentary, but she knew she had a knack for it. Sister Alberta had always told her so. In no time, she’d woo Mrs. Lancaster with bread rubbed with olive oil and rosemary, and her fresh pasta with lemon, herbs, and wine.

Two hours later, she, at last, advanced to the front of the queue. She instantly recognized the inspector behind the desk. He was the man who had entered the medical examination room when she and Maria had been forced to expose their breasts. He had also been the one to threaten her with deportation. Her palms grew clammy, and all of the joy she’d felt during the morning evaporated. This man would look for reasons to send her home.

He stared at her intently a moment before reading her name, assigned number, and date of birth. “Is this correct?”

She nodded.

“Why did you come to the United States?”

She had practiced this line many times and knew it well. “I wish to make new start with work.”

The inspector’s gaze traveled slowly over her face, lingered on her chest, and continued south and back again. If he aimed to make her feel uncomfortable, she wouldn’t show him he’d accomplished his goal. Her eyes never left his face.

He pursed his lips, his eyes lingering on her chest again. “My, aren’t you a pretty one. Women who look like you shouldn’t travel alone.”

She made sense of the words slowly. He wanted to intimidate her, or coerce her into admitting something that wasn’t true. She’d seen it too many times from her father, and she knew what to do with a man like that. Though her hands shook, she stuck out her chin. “I come for job. Work and make money.”

“Yes, indeed, you’ll work for money.” He leaned over his desk and winked.

She flinched and muttered a stream of Italian.

“We speak English here, miss.” The inspector bared his teeth. “Now, is someone here to greet you?”

“I have job.” She pushed the signed employment waiver across his desk.

His brows shot up. “Marshall Lancaster? He’s the biggest tea merchant in the city.”

She nodded. “I am his cook.”

“I’ll need to review your papers, Miss Ricci. Make some inquiries to see if it’s an authentic signature.”

She shook her head to show she didn’t understand.

He said slowly, “I need to see if these are real.”

That, she understood. Panic flared inside her. What if he decided the signature was a forgery?

His eyes roved over her frame again. “But. I’d be willing to let you go, if you paid a small fee, that is.”

“Fee?” she asked.

“A…price.” He winked.

She knew what the man wanted. They had all been the same, the men who needed to feel powerful, those who had been mocked and ridiculed as children. Those who were unloved. They were starved inside, and desperate to prove to themselves they were strong and worthy, to feel whole again. She knew the kind all too well. She’d seen it with the polizia in Sicilia at times, and with her father. Their need to wield power over others was weakness disguised, and this vile man was no different. Still, he was her way into the country, like it or not, and she must play his game.

“You sign, and I give something for to you.” She tripped over the English words.

He leaned forward. “And what might that be, Miss Ricci?”

“Is there place we can go? I show you.”

Hunger flickered in his eyes. “Meet me at twelve o’clock, sharp, outside the clerk’s office. Do you understand?”

She peered at him with a hard stare, until he finally looked away. Now he knew she wasn’t afraid, that she was in charge of herself, her body. “Sì. I see you at twelve.”





17


It had been a long morning, partly because Alma had been running from one end of the immigration center to the other all day, delivering paperwork, corralling children in the halls, and assisting Dr. Murphy during his medical inspections, and partly because she knew Francesca was waiting for her. Alma had hours left before she could leave, and the staff still had a few hundred immigrants left to process.

Francesca must be through inspections by now and was likely impatient to leave a building that must feel like a prison to her. Sometimes Ellis Island felt like a prison to Alma, too, as if she were locked up with the masses in some alternate hell she couldn’t escape. Other days, she almost enjoyed her work. She’d begun to acclimate to the busy days and had made a friend in Helene. They rode the ferry together to and from work and sometimes ate lunch together.