Mina awoke to the sound of heavy stomping overhead. She could not think where she
was. Her bed was rocking back and forth, back and forth. Then Mina opened her eyes.
A dim light filtered into the small compartment. Close above her were rough planks
of the ceiling-not the delicately carved flowers of her own bed. She was on the Margaretha,
and this morning they sailed at dawn.
On deck above her head sailors were up and about, shouting to each other. Mina could
not stay in bed any longer.
"Papa, Mama, wake up, we are about to leave." Mina dressed quickly.
Papa chuckled. "Well, Minchen, there will be no peace until we get up."
Mama yawned and stretched in the berth below Mina's.
"Hurry, or we will miss everything." Mina climbed down from the berth to put on her shoes. "May I go up on deck to watch?"
"Nein, Mina, you wait for us," Mama said getting out of bed. "Go
sit on the bench."
Mina went out through the curtain, sat down heavily, and leaned against the mast.
The light coming in through the doorways was growing brighter. Any minute now the
sun would rise, the Margaretha would sail, and Mina would miss it all, sitting
and waiting down in steerage.
Finally Mama pulled aside the curtain, and they all went up on deck and stood at
the rail. Mina looked at the line that held the Margaretha to the quay. As
she rocked, the line became taut and loose. It seemed to Mina that the ship was pulling
on the line, anxious to be on her way across the great ocean. Mina looked up at the
two towering masts-their yards strung with a maze of lines. The sails were still
furled.
On the quarter deck Captain Libben stood with his hands clasped behind his back,
looking aloft. He was a stout man with a gray beard and mustache, and he wore a black
billed cap squarely on his head. He watched as his sailors climbed up the rigging
to the yardarms. On either side of him stood the pilot and the First Mate.
Then Captain Libben gave the command to the First Mate who shouted, "Loose the
topsails." Mina saw the square sails unfurl, flap, and fill with wind as the
sailors turned the big winches to trim them.
"Heave ho," sang the men cranking up the anchor. The ship steadied, and
began to cut smoothly through the water with the wind.
"Oh, Papa, we are moving!" The quay and all the waving people on it were
slipping away. The Margaretha glided slowly past a forest of masts and rigging
of the other ships. Sailors on these ships stopped their work and waved as the Margaretha sailed by, and Mina waved back. The wind pushed them out into the wide harbor, away from other ships, away from Bremerhaven.
Papa and Mama put their arms around Mina's shoulders. Mina looked up at Papa. His
eyes were sad as he gazed toward the flat coastline.
"Are you thinking of Opa?" Mina asked.
"Ja, kleine Mina, and of Germany. We shall never set eyes on our
Fatherland again."
Mama watched as the harbor grew farther and farther away. "Auf Wiedersehen,
our Fatherland," she cried raising her arm to wave, her long skirt blowing in
the breeze.
For Mina, leaving Bremerhaven was not as hard as leaving Opa and their big house
in Wehrstedt. Back there she felt that something inside her was being torn out, leaving
her cold and numb. But now she felt only a surge of excitement through her body.
"Auf Wiedersehen," repeated Mina, "we are off to the new land."
Papa smiled down at her. He looked so fine in his long black coat.
"Ja, my kleine Mina, you are right. We must be glad, not sad,
for we are on our way to Texas and our new life."
Mina turned her face into the fresh seabreeze, and bounced up on her toes. "Oh,
Papa, I am so excited. Will it really be like paradise in Texas?"
"That is what they say, Mina."
Mama clasped her hands together. "Just think, our very own land to farm!"
Mina watched as the flat coastline disappeared over the horizon, until all she could
see in every direction was the gray restless ocean. Germany was gone forever. One night after Mina was settled in her berth, the wind began to blow harder and harder until it was howling. She could hear the waves beat against the hull of the ship at her head. The ship began to roll back and forth. Every box in steerage was sliding this way and that. The tin dishes flew about, clanging and rattling. Some
of the children began to cry. Mina's stomach felt queasy, and she hugged Johanna
close.
"Ernst," Mama called to Papa, "I feel sick." Papa held a chamber
pot beside her berth.
"It will be all right, Minchen," Papa assured her.
But as the ship rolled more violently, Mina held onto the side of her berth. One
moment she felt she was standing on her head, the next moment on her feet.
"Papa, Papa, the waves will turn us over!"
"Nein, Mina." Papa's voice was strong and sure. "This is a
sturdy ship, and Captain Libben knows his business."
She heard Anna cry out in the next compartment, "Papa, we shall drown!"
Mina thought of the angry waves outside. She imagined herself bobbing about in the
dark water, trying to keep her head up.
Then a wave dashed against the hull, bringing Mina out of her vision. It hit so hard
that the Margaretha seemed to stop, and with a shudder, heeled over until Mina thought they would capsize.
People screamed and cried out in the dark, "Dear God, help us, help us."
The ship righted herself, and rolled in the opposite direction. Mina clung to her
berth with both hands to keep from being thrown against the hull or onto the floor.
"Papa, I wish I was home in Wehrstedt. I wish we had never come on this terrible
ship. I hate it, Papa, I hate it. I want to go home." Mina felt the warm tears
running down her cheeks, and she was shaking all over.
"You must be brave, my kleine Mina, and trust in God." Papa reached
over and held onto Mina's hand. His hand was rough and warm.
The Margaretha bucked and rolled. Another giant wave slammed into her hull.
The sea was trying to pull her down, down into its depths. The Margaretha
creaked and groaned as each new wave rolled her over.
Another wave, and another, pounding, pounding on the ship's sides. Only a thin wall
separated them from the raging, foaming ocean.
"Ernst, you must pray to God to save us."
"Our God in heaven," Papa began, and his voice encircled them with its
strength. "Help us through this night, and give us courage to help ourselves."
The waves continued to pound the Margaretha, but Mina relaxed her grip on
the berth.
She felt ashamed that she had been such a baby. She thought of Captain Libben and
his helmsman at the wheel guiding the ship through the storm. She thought of the
blond lady on the bow cutting bravely through the water, and of Papa's words, "give
us courage to help ourselves." I want to be brave like Captain Libben and Papa and Roland, thought Mina.
At last dawn came. The wind was still blowing, but not as hard. Mina could hear the
pump throbbing as it pumped out water that had leaked in during the storm. She opened
her eyes and looked about the dimly lit compartment. Their boxes had shifted, and
there were no cups left on the pegs above her head. Her dress and shoes were safely
tucked into the space between her berth and the wall. Mina pulled her dress on over
her head, put on her high top shoes, and buttoned them.
Papa came in through the curtain, and Mama stirred.
"Minchen, just stay in bed for awhile. The storm is over, and you will soon
feel better."
Then the cook's voice from above, "Coffee is ready."
"Come, Mina, let us find our coffee pot and cups." Papa helped her jump
down from the berth, and together they began to pick through the clutter on the floor
of the big room. Other passengers were stirring about, picking up belongings.
"Aha, here is the pot." Papa found it under the bench that circled the
mast.
They climbed the steps, and went out onto the deck. The sky had cleared and the sun
felt warm on Mina's face. The ship creaked as it rolled, but Mina knew now that it
was strong. She looked up at Papa and took his hand.
Papa smiled at her. "I told you, kleine Mina, that this was a sturdy
ship. And more than that, you are a sturdy girl."
