I was desperate to get out, but the door was made of thick steel and locked. The handle was a bar of steel too. The liner was rising, falling and pitching with a lurch that made it heave before rolling back, and this rhythm was constant. It was difficult to keep my balance when I walked around. I lay down behind shelves of luggage – parcels, suitcases, bundles and packages – hoping someone, but not Crowley, would come and free me. I thought of Dad and Mam, Colleen and my brothers. But none of them could help me now, except Dad if he came to check the cargo. I was thinking that Mam would be upset in Queenstown and that she’d be worried sick about me. It was a crazy, stupid, mad thing to do, to run away from home. What kind of a boy runs away from a happy home? I felt sleepy from all of the woe and didn’t care anymore about anything. I started to cry, sobbing aloud, my chest heaving like the liner. Then I grew tired of the crying and decided to lie down, using my schoolbag as a pillow, with my coat as a blanket, even though my shoes were sticking out the bottom.
