"Next!"

He was pushed forward in the line until there was only one person between him and man at the desk. He was cold and tired. It had been a long lonely journey. He tried to repress a shiver as he tried not to think of his mother. She had left to come to America two years before and find work. He hadn't heard from her in over 6 months. Things were desperate back home and when his Uncle had booked him passage, he wasn't given a choice, he was going. They promised they would send word to her that he was on his way, but he didn't know how they could possibly reach her when she ignored their last 3 letters. 

"Next!"

The woman in front of him stepped forward. She presented her suitcase and her bad English to the man at the desk. He could see the man now, he was old but had piercing blue eyes that seemed to look right through the woman. The man frowned at her as she said something the man obviously didn't understand. He gave a sigh and gestured her towards a waiting official. He scribbled something on her papers as he handed them back to her. She thanked him and hurried off.

"Next!"

He couldn't make his feet move and the man at the desk looked impatient.

"You, boy! Come on!"

He felt a hand on his shoulder and he was pushed in front of the scary man.

"Name?"

The boy didn't understand the question or anything that the man was saying. He looked down at his feet.

"God damn these damn mute wops."

The man leaned forward and pulled at a piece of paper encircling the boy's neck which displayed his name, date of birth and home town. The man squinted at it distastefully.  

"Urgh! I can't read that. Is the clerk here?"

The guard near him just shrugged his shoulders and went back to his cigarette. 

"Typical, just typical. Fine. What-does-your-mother-call-you? Mama-You?"

He said very slowly pointing to the boy. He guessed from the intonation that he might be asking his name. He looked up from his feet.

"Fran-nn-ces-c-c-co" 

The boy stuttered before looking back down at his feet. The registrar quickly scribbled something down on a piece of paper in front of him and then handed it to the boy.

"That's great Fran-ces-co, welcome to America!"

Francesco looked up as the guard came over. He put a hand on his shoulder and directed him to a room away from the main hall. He was led down a corridor until he came to an empty room filled with a few other children in poor condition. A young boy was crying against the shoulder of his sister. The others sat on a bench looking into space. 

"Sit down, son. Father Thomas will be along soon to collect you boys. Give that to the sister on the desk when she calls you."

The guard left him to it. Francesco sat down on the bench, away from the other boys and wondered when his mother would arrive. If she would arrive. He looked down at the papers the registrar had given him, but he couldn't read much beyond his name at the top.

*

"What's the matter, Graffi?" 

Francesco 'Graffiti' Amretta looked up from his the ship's manifest he was crouched over, seeing the names of the passengers and crew.

"Nothing, Gino. Nothing."

He said, leaving his memories and the manifest on the ground, standing up.

"Seeing that just reminded me about when I came over."

"Well forget about it"

Gino said looking him up and down.

"We've got work to do. The boss got a tip that this ship brought a load of olive oil and spices with all those people, we need to relieve them of it"

Gino was right, now wasn't the time for day dreams. He had business to take care of.