"You aren't going to go back to sleep, are you?"

The half-whisper was soft, and Hero thought that if it carried a hint of impatience, then it was just for show. She turned her head to find Seraph watching her with inquisitive eyes. "I honestly don't think I could," she admitted.

Her guardian gave a huff that said, 'Just as I thought,' as clearly as if his lips had framed the words. "In that case, Miss Grayson, may I suggest that you cease clinging to the rail and we find a couple of loungers and a blanket or three... At least until the mist begins to lift or the ship starts moving again."

"But—" Hero instinctively wanted to protest, but she really had no idea how long it might be before the morning sun penetrated the haze. "Yes, sir."

She felt him start when she looped her hand around his elbow, but he made no comment and she didn't remove it until they reached the portion of deck where a row of hardwood loungers had been set out.

"Have a seat," Seraph instructed. "I'll see if I can find a steward or work out where they keep the blankets."

Hero watched as he went inside and then quickly arranged two of the loungers so closely side by side that their arms touched.

---

Seraph pretended not to notice the way the girl had rearranged the furniture when he came back. He simply dropped the stack of blankets onto the empty lounger and, one after the other, shook out the top two and draped them over his charge. He nudged his chair out of the way to tuck the girl in, but then he pushed it back before he shook out the last blanket and slid under it.

The girl's arm snaked out from under the blankets to rest along the edge of the chair.

When he mirrored the gesture, her gloved fingers twined with his own.

Seraph leaned back, reached up with his free hand to shift his fedora forward and closed his eyes to narrow slits. Through his eyelashes, he saw her look heavenward and flash him an indulgent smile before she, too, relaxed in her chair. It took a full ten minutes before he heard her breathing even out into a gentle susurration that matched the wash of the waves against the ship's hull.

As the quality of light began to shift almost imperceptibly and he heard the low rumble of another engine in the distance, he brushed his thumb gently over her knuckles where their hands were entwined. "Miss Grayson," he whispered, coughing quietly before he repeated her name just a little louder this time.

"Wha'—" she muttered, pulling her hand free and trying to roll onto her side, only to be thwarted by the lounger's angles. "Sev'rus!"

Swiftly, Seraph pressed a finger to her lips, just hard enough to stop her talking any more before she was fully awake. "Wake up, Miss Grayson," he hissed, drawing out the sibilant. "I believe it may be almost late enough to merit returning to the prow for a better view." Brown eyes cleared and fixed on his face, and he lifted his hand.

"Thank you, Seraph," she whispered softly as she began to peel away the blankets that enfolded her. Once she was free of her cocoon, she took his arm once more as he guided her to the front of the ship.

Her head tilted as they came to a stop, like that of a small delicate bird, trying to pinpoint the source of some strange sound.

Seraph obligingly pointed into the all-encompassing mist before moving to stand at her back so that his body formed a protective cave around her, steadying her against the swell that was more noticeable there than nearer the ship's centre. A long minute later the ghostly silhouette of a ferry emerged from the mist, only for its prow to disappear again before they could see its stern. The city was waking up. Workers were making their way from Brooklyn, the Bronx and New Jersey to clean Manhattan offices before more workers with suits and briefcases arrived.

Hero started as a canon blast cut through the muffling blanket from Governor's Island. Then, like a gentle whisper, came the first breath of morning breeze, cutting under the mist and carrying it upward like tatters of cotton wool until the city was laid bare before them. Ahead stood the towering skyscrapers of Manhattan. To the left the shore was crowded with buildings. To the right were the green stretches of Long Island.

The ship began to thrum as its engines chugged into life and it glided at a stately pace toward the harbour. As they passed under the shadow of the Statue of Liberty, a cheer rose from the lower decks and Hero shifted closer to the rail and peered over, almost surprised to see the throng of humanity down below, to see the way that many among them seemed to reach upward as if to touch the verdigrised statue as one might touch a religious icon on entering a great cathedral. It was a homecoming for so many of them, but touched as she was, Hero knew that their America was not hers. For her — she glanced at the hands on either side of her own — for them, it was just another landmark on the journey. Even as a silent tear rolled down her cheek at the sight, she leaned back into the cradle of Seraph's arms and found solace in the only home she had.

 

 

 

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Additional author's note: Of particular relevance for reference purposes regarding the last couple of chapters was the series of web pages describing the experiences of American immigrants at http://www.gjenvick.com/Steerage/1905-FellowshipOfTheSteerage/index.html.