Journey of the Foundresses

After breakfast more Office to be said and as we had to be at the dock by 11:00, the time went by quickly as we endeavored to get order out of the chaos of our luggage.  We had faithful Br. Kieran happily wetting the “O” stickers.  When the time arrived, he drove us down to the pier in groups of four or five, and it was difficult to squeeze through the throng of sightseers gathered to see the Boston pilgrimage off.  Archbishop Cushing was there, of course, and stood protectingly over Mother Prioress as two reporters came up for information.  There was a band there, too, of course, and nothing is most conducive to nostalgic feelings, especially in our case.  It was during one of those stirring tunes that we at last stepped off the soil of Erin for the last time and boarded the tender.  There was great confusion and noise and we were there some time before we finally got under way—after having our pictures taken innumerable times, news and candid alike.  Archbishop came out in what looked like a Corvette, dark grey, very formidable indeed.  They were making sure nothing would happen to him in Ireland anyway.

As soon as we arrived on board the Britannic, Mr. Tyers, Chief Steward of tourist passengers, who deserves special mention in this story, met us down at our cabins on “B” deck.  He was very kind in settling us in and arranging time for meals, etc., assuring us of his help all through the voyage, which he certainly gave.
The first thing to be done was to have lunch, for the dining room had been kept open today for the late tender—it was now after one.  Archbishop Cushing gave us the honor of escorting us down to the dining room, where we had a corner reserved for us, and shared with two other nuns taking a group of Postulants to the States.  It was during lunch that we felt the ship getting under way.

After lunch of course we spent the afternoon “arranging couches.” It was impossible to obtain facilities for saying the Office in Common, as we were three in two of the cabins and four each in the other two.  We had so much “State Room Luggage” that it filled up all the corners, which were not very far apart either.  Someone, I will not say who, remarked joyfully about this time that it wasn’t a bit rough at all; in fact you would hardly know that you were moving…with the inward question, no doubt, “How do people get sea-sick?”  She was sadly disillusioned by a novice who had not been very sea-worthy on the way over.  “Oh, Mother, wait!  We’re not in the deep water yet!” at the same time laughing rather sadly at having to be a wet blanket.

Dinner was not until 6:30, which made us somewhat later for bed than we were accustomed.  The most amusing thing, at our table at least, was the almost constant ordering of ice cream for dessert by one of the novices.  It must be said though, that they parted company forever one day later in the week.

We had to prepare for bed in the four corners (for privacy), and as two of the bunks were lowers, two could retreat into these.  There were little ladders up to the top bunks, but Sr. Grace scorned such formalities and simply, well, got in.  The other novice enjoyed climbing the ladder, and only a few times had to “get in” by method no. 2, because the ladder was under the bunks, having been put there to make more space.

We said Compline together, and of course the Salve.  Every night of the voyage, even when it was impossible to do anything but endure, at least a few managed to congregate in one of the cabins and recite Compline and the Salve with a great deal of fervor, calling on our Queen of Citeaux out here in the ocean where she was indeed our Star of the Sea, resolved at all costs to say good night to her as the rest of the Cistercian Family were doing, safe and snug in their cloisters.

To be continued...