Journey of the Foundresses

We were all up for Mass the next morning which the Archbishop said in the library about 6:00.  It was very warm there, and we made our thanksgiving on deck.  Our Office took up most of the day, but during this particular hour after Mass, we spent every morning talking with our good Father, Archbishop Cushing, the most delightful interludes of the trip.

Every night after supper during our promenade on deck we usually met a little boy of about three years named Brian, with his inexhaustible father.  He was a dear little fellow and Sr. Patrick became his ardent admirer.  His father was a convert, and excellent young man who had hopes, if not dreams, of his little son someday being a priest.

During the quiet of the mid-morning, a man at the rail suddenly shouted, “Anybody wanna see a whale?”  Everybody did, of course.  There he was skimming along the surface with fin visible; and sometimes his shining black back, when he enthusiastically and lustily spouted a column of water into the air.  Where was he going so peacefully?  To Ireland?

The period of two or three hours after lunch until tea-time we spent getting Office said or any little home chores in our cabins.  It was about Tuesday or Wednesday when we had the courage to break away from the group of fourteen and relax in little groups of three or four.  On no occasion were we ever alone (except one!) except in our cabins.  It was our chief exercise of charity to accompany someone down to the cabins for shawls, etc. for it was a long trip and for one who didn’t feel well, perhaps even somewhat perilous.

It was turning very cold by this time and when we were promenading or meeting for tea, Msgr. Spillaine came out and engaged us in a lively conversation about his visit to Knock, which has a spirit even more noticeable than Lourdes, he says.

His Excellency took us to tea by a different route today, but we followed along—any novelty being a relief, and he stopped at what turned out to be his stateroom—chairs for fourteen and one that just fitted between the two beds, which we naturally left for him.  Everyone was delighted with this arrangement, and after getting settled he began his little talk.  It was on the love of God.  He divided souls into two classes: those who were afraid to find God, and those who were afraid to lose Him.  The former were afraid because of the sacrifices that would be asked of them, especially self.  There were others who did not want to lose Him altogether, in fact, wanted to find Him very much, but wanted some of themselves too.  These were content with mediocrity.  But those who were afraid to lose Him, gave up all; gave Him themselves, gifts of body and soul, and even, in our case, as he specified, the gift of speech.  These latter loved God.  They would reach the heights.  He classed us with this group.  It made one reflect:  how much people expect of us!

He broke the spell by exclaiming, “You can all wake up now and have tea!”  It was delightful to be with him and he talked mostly about his work.  It was easily seen he was heart and soul in it.

 There were a great many children on board and they were in their element today.  Nothing could sicken them.  They went racing around the complete circle of the deck, which is long, and if they happened to slip on the wet deck or get tipped against the rail, it only added to their glee!

M. Prioress, M. St. John, Sr. Veronica, and Sr. Grace were so sick that they had to bury themselves in their berths.  M. Imelda, Sr. Patrick, and Sr. Stephanie were also sick, but they thought the deck was their only salvation.  M. Agnes, Sr. Francis, and Sr. Carol were feeling a slight repugnance to the whole thing, while the rest were beginning to have experimental sympathy.  It was really something to watch (and feel) when the ship suddenly stopped almost still, then everything fell out from under it and down it plunged, down, down, down.  It was really frightening sometimes when the huge waves were actually on a level with our deck.  Then it began to climb—going up sideways.  We felt ourselves being settled back into our seats, or else tugged out of them, while we either gazed at a sky of fog, or straight down into the mouth of the Atlantic Ocean.

To be continued...