The Pride of Galveston was docked in the Gulfport, Mississippi, harbor, the cruise ship’s blue smokestack rising like a dolphin’s fin from its gleaming white decks. My husband, Willem, helped me up the gangway, a porter behind us carrying our bags.
We’d flown here from Canada to embark on a journey we’d dreamed about for most of our 40-year marriage—a grand tour of the Caribbean islands. I couldn’t help but recall the last time I was on a ship, my only voyage until now, a lifetime ago….
It was 1953. I was 20 years old, aboard the Ryndam on a 10-day crossing from the Netherlands to Nova Scotia, leaving my whole world behind. I’d bought a second-class ticket with the money that Willem, then my fiancé, had saved from his meager earnings as a farmhand in rural Ontario.
All I had were the clothes on my back and my wedding dress, packed in a small suitcase. I’d bade farewell to Amersfoort, a city still struggling to recover from the ravages of war, and to my widowed mother and four younger siblings.
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I spent my days at sea pacing the Ryndam’s decks, the salt breeze on my face, a prayer on my lips. Lord, bless this journey. Be with Willem and me, always. Beyond sight of land, the entire world seemed to be water. I couldn’t tell what lay behind me or what lay ahead. I felt completely adrift. Was I doing the right thing? Could I make a home so far from everything and everyone I knew?
Forty years had taken away those fears, and answered my prayers. Willem built a successful cabinetmaking business. We raised four children, three daughters and a son. I’d grown to love my adopted country, even if our responsibilities left little time or money for vacations. This cruise was a celebration of all we’d accomplished, the life we’d created from scratch.
The Galveston’s captain greeted us on deck. “This brings back so many memories,” I said, gazing up at the finlike smokestack once more. “The last time I was on a ship, I was coming over from Holland.”
“Ah, then you might be interested in this vessel’s history,” the captain said. “She once carried immigrants from Europe. Back then, she wasn’t known as the Pride of Galveston. She was built for the Holland America Line. They named her the Ryndam.”
