We have been at sea for six days. We were delayed by some mechanical problems in Liverpool, but were confined to our ship. It is bigger than I could have ever imagined. The other girls in my cabin are Megan, Joan and Clarissa, and they are all Scots like me. We all became friendly and had some good talks before we sailed. The conversation often touched on the way the English look down on us. “After all,” Joan said, “ Most of us can read and write better than most of them. We have all read good literature, including poetry, which is a lot more than some of those girls from London can.” Megan produced a scrap of newspaper that said “Of all the immigrants . . . the Scotch are most welcome . . . they bring muscle and brain and tried skill and trustworthiness in many of the great industries of which . . . they are the most successful.” It was from a Canadian journalist writing to a British newspaper.
The day we left was hard. Though we could not see our beloved Scotland we all wept as land faded into the distance. Soon Ireland was also far behind and we were in the open sea. A storm kept us in our bunks for the first two days, using the bucket especially left in our cabin for seasickness. The smells in our cabin – a mixture of used chamberpots, vomit and smoke from the coal-fired engines – drove me out on deck, where the clean sea air soon cleared my head. There were only a few of us seated in the dining room that night, but the thick soup and hot tea were very welcome.
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