“But I only want this one.”
“We shall take care of it as best as we can,” Alberto said, helping to hold the case, pulling it to rest partially on his lap.
“And the animals on this ship stink so,” Maria blurted, wrinkling her nose. “I thought the rains would at least wash the decks free of that stench. But it only seems to have worsened.”
“I sure hadn't expected to share our boat trip with horses, mules and sheep,” Alberto grumbled. “But we do have to, and the smell is one thing you'll have to learn to tolerate, Maria.”
The ship rose, fell and rolled some more, making the timbers creak in an almost weary-sounding fashion.
“When ever shall it end?” Maria sobbed. Her stomach ached both from the tossing of the ship and the lack of food, and her feet and fingers had grown numb from the continuing wet, cold dampness.
“Please quit fretting so, Maria,” Alberto said. “That won't make things any better.”
Maria chewed her lower lip. “Alberto?” she said softly. “Yes?”
“When the storm is over, can I please take these wet clothes off and put on a dress?”
He answered immediately and gruffly. “No. You cannot wear a dress,” he argued. “You know the dangers of that.”
“I still don't understand.”
“To wear a dress would be to show this ship's crew that you are a woman. You do know the dangers of that.”
“No, I do not,” she said angrily.
“I've told you. Over and over again.”
“I think you are wrong, Alberto,” she persisted. “I am not beautiful. No man would .. . did you call it… seduce me. You are funny, Alberto.”
Tensing, Alberto glared at Maria. “Maria, if you flaunt your .. . shall I say . . . your curves to these women-hungry seamen, you are asking for trouble. And, yes, my sister, you arc quite beautiful. Even a brother knows the beauty of a sister.”
“But to wear this ugly chimney sweep outfit for even another day almost breaks my heart,” she moaned. “I thought that once we left Italy behind, it would also mean to leave dingy ways of dressing behind. I so long to wear long, pretty dresses. The one Aunt Helena gave me is so lovely with its lace and bows. Please let me wear it?”
“No, Maria,” Alberto stormed. “I am to see to your safety and, damn it, you shall wear what I say. And please be sure to keep your hair hidden beneath that hat. That alone would give away the fact that you are not my brother.”
“Oh, all right,” Maria grumbled, then grew silent, listening. “Has the storm stopped?” she whispered. “The sea seems to be a bit calmer and I hear no more close thunder. Only occasional slight rumblings.”
Alberto quickly raised the blanket and searched the sky. There were still many gray, low-rolling clouds racing along overhead, but a rainbow filled another part of the sky in misty multicolors.
“Look, Maria,” Alberto exclaimed, tossing the blanket aside. “Isn't it so beautiful?”
Maria's eyes sparkled as she stood and straightened her back, looking upward. “They say that a pot of gold can be found at the rainbow's end,” she whispered. “Do you even think the one end of this rainbow stops where America lies waiting for us?”
“Maybe so,” Alberto said, looking slowly around him, stomping his feet alternately, sending small showers of water from his clothes. Since the storm's abatement, the activity on the ship had taken on a different note. The rain-soaked people began to move from their bunks, coughing, sneezing, wringing the water from their clothes and hair, and checking the welfare of their belongings.
The ship's crew scurried around, clearing the outer deck of fallen debris and shouting crude obscenities as they pushed their way through the throngs of people milling about.
Alberto leaned into Maria's face. “Now you remember what I said,” he whispered. “You keep that hat pulled down to hide your eyes and walk a bit stooped so no sailor will see your … uh … the size of your breasts.”
Feeling a blush rising, Maria cast her eyes downward. “All right,” she said. “I will.” She clung to her violin case as she watched Alberto reposition their trunks further up the deck, then scoot their bunks closer together.
“There. That's better,” he said. “If the sun ever shines again, at least we'll be where it can reach and warm us.”
Maria placed her violin case on one of the bunks. “Will it be as cold for the whole trip, Alberto?” she asked, shivering. She wrapped her arms around her chest, hugging herself.
“It is the month of October,” he said, walking to the ship's rail, to look far into the horizon, seeing gray meeting blue. Would he ever see land again? Had his Papa had such doubts when he had traveled from Italy to America? Setting his jaw firmly, he swung around on a heel to clasp onto Maria's shoulders. “Yes, it is the month of October,” he blurted. “And cold as it is, you must remember that in November even, we shall be sitting comfortably in front of a cozy fire in Papa's house. By God we will. Just you wait and see.”
Having suddenly pulled courage from Alberto, Maria lunged into his arms and hugged him to her, resting her cheek on his shoulder. “You always make me feel so confident of things in life,” she murmured. “Alberto, whatever would I do without you?”