From April 30 through May 9, 2014, I had the pleasure of
vacationing with my husband in Ireland. Our son knew how much I’d always wanted
to visit the land of my paternal ancestors and gifted us with a 35th
wedding anniversary trip. Armed with a guidebook each, we did enough research
to know which areas of the country we wanted to explore and our hotels were
booked accordingly. But what I always love about traveling is that not
everything goes as planned. One of my favorite museums was in a city we hadn’t
originally studied.
Because our hotel for nights 4&5 was in the south of
County Wexford, we had the opportunity to visit The Dunbrody Irish Emigrant
Experience in the city of New Ross. (The previous name was the Dunbrody Famine
Ship, but obviously this one sounds more intriguing). As a bustling port, New
Ross was also the site where the William Graves & Son company imported
goods (timber, cotton, sugar) from North America in the mid-1840s. When the
Potato Famine hit in 1845 (lasting until 1849), many lower class Irish could no
longer pay the rents on their tenant farms. Many were given the ultimatum by
their landlord: the poor house or passage to North America, with the landlord
paying the approximate 3 pound/person fee.
The 458-ton ship was built to exact specifications to one
from the fleet used by Graves & Son, and had 2 first-class cabins, the
captain’s cabin, crew’s quarters and a steerage compartment. Before boarding
the ship, we viewed displays that described the circumstances of the Potato
Famine and listened to first-hand accounts of those who had traveled and then
written to relatives back in Ireland. We saw the bunks below decks, noted the
approximate 7’x7’ space (approximately twice the width of first-class bunk & same length) that often housed an entire family. On each bunk were
the names of the occupants from one voyage made in March, 1849. The list showed
often 4-7 people shared the space—a couple and their children, a widow with her
4 children ages 3 to 13, or a bunk with the names of 4 unrelated women.
Passengers provided their own bedding, as well as utensils for eating and
drinking. The shipping company supplied weekly to each adult 3-1/2 lbs of
biscuit, 3-1/2 lbs of flour, oatmeal or rice, or a proportionate quantity of
potatoes (5 lbs for every 1 lb of other items) issued no less that twice a
week. Three quarts of water per day was allotted for each adult. (The
assumption is smaller amounts were allotted for children, but that fact was
never mentioned.)
Being a first-class passenger allowed you unfettered access
to the deck and fresh air, weather permitting. As a steerage passenger, you
were allowed above decks for a very short (1-2 hours) period per day. Walking
through the small spaces (often having to duck our heads) in a tour group of
about 15 people made me wonder how 200 people could have shared the small
space. If any of you have traveled with young children on an airplane or in a
car, you know how testy they can get a being confined. Imagine that behavior on
a voyage that lasted up to six weeks and often in rough seas. Because of the physical
state of undernourished people and the lack of adequate sanitation, many
passengers contracted typhus and cholera and died. Mortality rates of 20% to an
alarming 50% soon renamed the vessels to Coffin Ships.
What tugged on our heartstrings were presentations by two
women taking on the roles of a steerage and a first-class passenger. Dressed in
clothes appropriate to their positions, these women related their stories for
why they were making the trip. The steerage passenger, Mrs. Doolan, jostled a baby
in her arms as she talked (in her thick brogue) of her ailing husband whose
efforts on their farm hadn’t produced marketable potatoes, and how when faced
with debtors’ prison, they agreed to emigrate but she fretted because they had
no connections, no job waiting, and only 40 schillings remaining. She worried
about her husband’s health and having enough food for her 5 children. Next a well-dressed wife of a shopkeeper, Mrs.
Fairchild, stepped up and, with a haughty expression, shared that her family (husband
and two kids) were traveling so her husband could help his brother manage a
thriving store in Philadelphia. The dichotomy between the lifestyles was
glaring and poignant. Especially when we learned that halfway through the
voyage Mr. Doolan died and right before landing in New York, Mrs. Doolan also
died so the 5 children arrived on foreign soil as orphans. I only hoped they
were looked after by some of the other passengers but who knows?
Hearing these actors deliver the life histories of people
who actually sailed looking for a new life made history come alive. As we were
leaving, my husband spotted a printed manifest of the voyage depicted in the
museum and noted that two men with the surname of “Carroll” were among the
passengers. Further research is needed to determine if either of those men is a
distant relative. The facts learned in that 90-minute tour will stay with me
for a long time because the presentation was made personal.
Many of my stories involve characters who are first- or
second-generation emigrants from Europe or the British isles. This museum presentation
is always in the back of my mind as I develop those family histories. So far,
only one of my titles (a contemporary) is set in Ireland but I now have so much
research to write another.
Find my books here on my website or on Linda Carroll-Bradd’s Amazon page.
