Louisiana Johnson

Sialing to the New World

The docs are crowded with people from all over England. Women, crying for their sons not to go, young wives giving their husbands deep and passionate kisses before they go. "Don't forget to send for me!" A woman yells to her lover. Her blond hair was tied into a messy bundle that sat loosely above her neck. Her big green eyes are fixated on her everything, welling up with congratulatory, yet seldom, tears. Her love stares back with deep heartbreak covered by a reassuring smile for her to remember him by. The men of England are going to southern America to work and create a new living for their families. Some have 2 generations of of family land waiting for them to claim while others must start from scratch. English men begin pulling in the plank from the doc preparing the boat for sail off. "Wait!" A sudden shout from the crowd arises. Everyone stops and looks around in a fury trying to find the one responsible for such a startling outburst. "You there!" It says again, "hold the plank!" Eyes shoot to the left side of the doc to see a man pushing madly through the crowd holding two heavily packed duffle bags above the women's heads. The English men exchange looks with one another, nodded, and began to replace the plank. "Thank you my good man" he says and he drops his bags on the ground to catch his breath. The ticket manager then appears at the top of the plank on the boat to see what all the commotion was about. He was a tall heavy set man with a mustache that twitched with every facial structure that he made. He towered over the men at the bottom of the plank, blocking the sunlight from their eyes. He wore a navy blue suit with gold buttons in the cuffs and front of his jacket. He strongly placed his hands on his hips and glared down at the rather unpunctual young man. "Where is your ticket?" he asks. The young man looked up trying to identify the shadowy figure on the boat. "Pardon?" he replies. "Where is your ticket?" The ticket manager demands. The young man rummages through his worn pockets in search for his boarding ticket. He picks up his bags and flings them over his right shoulder with his ticket in his left. He rushes up to the ticket manager and hands it to him joyfully. "Here you go." He says with a smile. The manager looks at him up-and-down with his icy blue eyes and then looks at his ticket. "What's your name" he asks without looking up from the paper. "What?" The young man replies. "What.is.your.name? What are you, deaf?" the manager says annoyed. The young man, quite embarrassed now, replies "What? oh, no sir. My name is Alex, Alexander Bureaux". The manager stares Alex down in disbelief searching for a smirk or a small giggle. Alex stares blankly back. The manager fixes his glasses and says, "You're Alexander Bureaux? From the Bureaux Family?" Alex looks puzzled and says, "Why, yes." The manager narrows his eyes and checks him out again. "Is something wrong sir?" Alex ask with sincerity. "No!" the manager replies, as if snapping back into reality. He then cracks a wide smile, exposing his perfect white teeth. "Welcome aboard Mr. Bureaux. My name is William Charleston, but-you can call me William of course- it will be a pleasure to have you aboard the Mona Lisa." He begins shaking his hand madly and continues to flatter Alex as they walk towards the middle of the top deck. Alex becomes uneasy and tries to pull his hand from the commotion. "Thank you Mr. Charleston," Alex starts. "Please, call me William sir." William requests. "Okay, um, William," he starts again. William smiles like a newborn baby. " May you please show me to my resting area?" Alex says. " Why yes Of course Mr. Bureaux. Anything for the young master. Would you like any room service? Some wine perhaps? Finger sandwiches? Tea? A little, afternoon entertainment eh?" William responds, elbowing Alex in the arm. " Um, no thank you William. I just want to go to my room and settle in first, then maybe I'll lie down and get some well needed rest" said Alex. "Well, alright," said William, "off we go to your room then". The bells chime, signaling the departure of the boat. Men rush to the boat rail, waving their hats and hands to their loved ones one last time with half-hearted promises of seeing one another again. Tears are shed, "goodbyes" are shouted, and blessings are sent with them. The men continue to wave and shout until they could no longer hear the voices of the women. The journey has now begun.