Molly O'Ryan stood on the dock with tears running down her pretty face. The wind whipped her long, straight, red hair. She watched her Father bartering with the fine, English gentleman. She knew full well what he was doing; he was selling his eldest daughter, a girl just turned 18, so that her brothers and sister would survive the coming winter. Times were more than hard in Ireland in 1869; they were desperate. She could see the Englishman turn and look at her and then turn back to Father. The deal was done; money changed hands; Father, too ashamed to face her, turned and walked away. Molly watched to see if he would turn back, but he never did before disappearing into the crates piled on the docks.

The Englishman walked toward her. Stopping, he looked her over almost with distain. “I am William Ingram. Mister Ingram to you! You will be attending to my three children. We are leaving within the hour for America. Pick up your bag and follow.”

The Englishman turned and walked away. Molly picked up her thread worn satchel and hurried after the man. She knew the situation; Father had heard the tale in the tavern this morning and had known to approach Mr. Ingram: An English gentleman, his wife, and their three children were traveling to Saint Louis in America. He had business holding there. Their proper English nanny had taken ill on the boat out of England and had died during the night. The boat, a large, modern vessel with both sail and smokestacks, had docked in Ireland for only a few hours to pick up cargo and steerage passengers.

Molly hurried up the ramp to the boat. Mr. Ingram was speaking with an officer who let her pass. She followed the Englishman into the rarified world of the First Class passengers. He led her to a cabin. Entering, she faced a somber-faced woman in her mid-30’s and three children. The children were sobbing.

“Caroline,” Mr. Ingram spoke to his wife, “I have obtained this creature to care for the children. Give her instructions and tend to her. If she proves to be satisfactory, you may keep her after we have arrived in Saint Louis. Otherwise, you may employ a more suitable nanny. I will be in our cabin.” With that, the man walked out of the cabin.

For the next hour Mrs. Ingram laid out a series of rule and expectations. Most of them had to do with keeping the children clean, occupied, and out of sight and sound of her husband. Mr. and Mrs. Ingram occupied the next cabin. Molly would sleep on the daybed in the children’s cabin. She would eat with the children in the cabin; the steward was instructed to bring food at mealtimes; her husband did not believe in children eating with adults.

Mrs. Ingram introduced her children, who were distressed at the sudden death of their long-time nanny. The children were Susan, aged 10, William Junior, aged 8, and Thomas, aged 7. They were to be addressed formally, Miss Susan, Master William, and Master Thomas.

“I must join my husband. I will be in to look in on the children after dinner.” Mrs. Ingram left the cabin.

Molly stood, alone and frightened. She could feel the boat moving away from the dock. A loud whistle blew. Molly knew she was leaving Ireland forever.