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Ripley
Genealogy Moschel
Genealogy
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1863
In the spring on 1863 I was 23 and about to cross the Atlantic Ocean with my wife and two small children. It was the turning point of my life. I was sacred to death wondering if I was doing the right thing. I had gone over and over the decision in my mind; Honora and I had discussed it endlessly; and in the end I decided our future was in America, not Ireland. We had been married five years and the future in Ireland looked dim to this young man viewing his current and future responsibilities. Our daughter was born on December 10, 1859, and we named her Johanna. Then less than a year later our first son was born and we named him Jerry. By naming him Jerry I knew I was honoring not only my father, Jerry, but my brother, Jerry, who had gone to America five years earlier. I honored my father, but I missed my brother terribly. For those five years my brother Jerry lived in New York. His letters encouraged us to come and be with him. He sent money for the voyage, and in the end it was his encouragement that convinced me to move across the ocean. My father was inconsolable with our decision to leave, but I knew my sisters would care for him well. I needed to think first of my family. It was a horrible, wrenching decision; but after it was made in early 1863, I never deviated from my course. We were to going to a new life and I prepared for it in every detail possible. We lacked enough money to travel by steamship, so our crossing was by sail. We were told to have provisions ready for a 70-day journey. Everyone hoped, naturally, that it would be shorter but you had to plan for the worst. First you needed a strong chest to carry your provisions. It was better if it was a sailor's box that was broader at the bottom than at the top so it would be steadier on board ship. In order to care for ourselves we took a water can, wash basin, baking dish, tin pot, can for drinking, pot to hang on the stove for heating, tin plates, small dishes for tea, spoons, knives, and forks. Everything was marked carefully because security was an issue. We took minimal clothing. The men had short jackets and coarse trowsers and the women had a long bed gowns and dark shawls. Bedding for the family was carried. We took fishing tackle for when we got closer to the coasts. Everyone had brandy to use as bribes, and if you didn't use it, you sold it at the end of the trip. Food and water preparation was most important. We took 30 stone potatoes, 1 1\2 cwt. of oatmeal or flour, 1/4 cwt. biscuits, 10 lbs. butter, 10 lbs. bacon, 25 lbs. herring, brandy, 1/2 gallon molasses, and a little vinegar. We were also advised, and we did, to take castor oil, colocynth and rhubarb pills, epsom salts, and senna. The water needed amounted to one gallon per person per day. We also brought oatcake we made the last week before departure. The oatcake was baked three times until it was hard as slate. Last, and most important, we took a piece of sod. We wanted to have a piece of the old land in the new land. Our live wake was the night before we departed. Our small cabin was filled with family and neighbors. We forced merriment but knew the real feeling of everyone present. It was exactly the same as when we had the live wake for Jerry. I knew I was hugging my sisters and father for the last time. We then made our way from Limerick to Liverpool where we had to wait for another week for good weather to start our adventure across the sea. We left Liverpool on May 15, 1863, and arrived in New York 63 days later. Next to my experience during the famine years, this is the most misery I have ever experienced or seen bestowed on a group of people. Honora and I were 23 at the time and Johanna was 3 1/2 and Jerry 2 1/2. If I had known what I was subjecting them to, I probably would never have crossed. About 5% of ship's passengers died enroute because of the combination of sickness, horrible accommodations, unhealthy conditions, and violent storms. As steerage passengers, we experienced the worst. Imagine, if you can, 63 days mostly holed up in steerage decks. We had little water and keeping clean was difficult. Vermin and filth were our companions on the trip. Many of us became too sick to cook, but the worst of the worst were the storms at sea. Most of us in steerage had never sailed before and we were shut down in the hold in the dark amongst sickness and misery almost impossible to describe. The journey started out calm enough, but 20 days into the journey the storm came and lasted for eight days. The waves would break upon the deck, and to those of us below, it sounded like the ship was going to break apart. The utter terror when we could hear the sailors being called by the captain's trumpet to upper deck is a fear I have never known before or after. We knew the trumpet sounded only at worst of times; and however bad it was then, it would be getting worse. Our air was foul because we were locked below deck for the duration of the week's storm. We were thrown from one side to the other as the ship rolled and my fear for young Johanna and Jerry being crushed to death was real. It happened to others. Water came through from the deck above and our beds were soaked and the water on the floor was ankle deep. We thought, wrongly, that the ship was sinking. Of course we could not have lanterns lit and we had not cooked in days. Even today in dreams I can hear the shrieking and crying of men, women, and children from those days. Those memories will never fade. After the big storm passed, we had what resembled a normal time on board. We could get above our deck; we could have wash days; and we could once again cook and gain some strength. We found ways to pass the idle time and each time we saw a ship we waved wildly and enthusiastically. By the end of the voyage our water was entirely useless and we had to use salt water. Then it happened. Someone saw land. Within seconds we were different people. People with hope. I shall never forget that moment. The four of us were alive, by God's grace. I then thought for the first time since the storm started we might make it to America. Our introduction to America was Ward's Island off of New York City. Passengers who were contagious were sent to Staten Island for quarantine. Because we were relatively healthy, we were sent to Ward's Island to rest from the voyage. Within two days we went to New York City where I hoped I would find Jerry from our previous arrangements. I knew where he lived and our challenge was finding him in this big city. I cannot adequately describe to you now what it meant to see my brother Jerry. He represented both my past and my hope for the future. When we saw each other, we could not speak. We cried like babies for what seemed like hours, not the minutes I'm sure it was. Then Honora introduced Jerry to his niece, Johanna, and his namesake, Jerry. I can still vividly picture how my brother Jerry looked when Honora lifted young Jerry from her arms and handed him to Jerry. Jerry was beaming from ear to ear. Our introduction to America was turbulent. We arrived on July 17, 1863, the day after the four-day Draft Riots of New York were quelled. Little did I know or understand at the time just how strong the feelings were in the country for the tumultuous events of the day which all stemmed from the Civil War. The Union had passed legislation earlier in 1863 for conscription for all ablebodied men between the ages of 20 and 45. There were provisions in the bill for draftees to obtain exemption by paying $300 or supplying a substitute. The Irish immigrants, in particular, were opposed to the bill and what they considered to be this rich man's exemption. The opposition turned into four days of rioting with 1000 people killed, 50 buildings destroyed by fires, and $2 million dollars worth of damage. My brother Jerry had been part of the Draft Riots the days prior to our arrival and was still reeling with its effect on him. Jerry had arranged for us to live in the 4th Ward of New York City. When we arrived the tenement population was nearly 300,000 inhabitants to the square mile. Squalor is the only word that comes to mind. My hope of the last few days since we had first seen land was now being compromised by our surroundings and the news of the Civil War and its possible effect on us. I had put my family through so much. Now I was faced with appalling living conditions and thousands of miles away from anything that was familiar to us. Had we done the right thing?
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