"Until I met my Elizabeth, I never desired to be enchanted by a siren. I never considered the absolute perfection of such a death. But now, as I sit in this cold cell, with the letters "F U C K" written in angry, bold letters above the door, I know it was all worth while. I would die a thousand deaths as long as I could drown in her ocean. . . "

***

It's been a long time since I have felt relief. But I feel it now. If I shield my eyes from the setting sun, I can just make out the Virginia coast line. America. I've finally made it.

This ship is full of the suffering, and as the only priest on board, I have counseled them all. Every last one of them trying desperately to escape the famine that has swept across Ireland, and striving for a new beginning in America. The Land of Milk and Honey. Every last one of them has endured starvation, the loss of land, family, and friends. I myself have come to escort orphans of the famine across the ocean to St. Patrick's Cathedral in Ravensport. And I myself is the one who needs counseling.

God works in mysterious ways, but how is any man to maintain hope with the sounds of the dead and dying to lull him to sleep? How can any man maintain faith in a father who allows his children to face such tremendous anguish? I have lost my faith in the Holy Spirit. And how can I not? My work provides me with every bit of evidence I need to doubt my Lord and God. I have seen the most righteous of men, the most loyal of women, the most innocent of children die by my feet. Is there no good left on this earth?

But, throughout my pain, I feel relief. I have come to a new world. The pain and suffering of Ireland is a thing in the past for me. But is it not my job to provide guidance to those most in need? Can I be truly happy knowing what I have left others behind to endure? Only time will tell. I can only pray -- and yes, I do still pray -- that God will reveal himself to my people and end their pain where I have failed.