Jump Ship To Freedom Part 3

I slid across the deck on my hands and knees with the ax and handed it to the captain. He took a big swing at the place where the broken end fitted into the rudder and knocked the piece out. The sailor slipped the new tiller in place, and the captain banged it to with the b.u.t.t end of the ax. Then the four of us leaned on the tiller, two on each side, and swung it over. The s.h.i.+p hung there for a minute, and then it came around. Suddenly the sails filled with a slap that you could hear over the sounds of the storm, and we began to move forward again.

Just as we did, I happened to look forward and noticed two of the oxen's tether ropes with nothing attached to them, streaming out in the wind. The oxen had broke loose and slid over the side. I looked back behind us to the roaring sea. There wasn't a trace of them to be seen.

5.

The storm had been on us now for two days. It seemed like it had gone on forever. I hardly could remember how it had been before, when it was calm and we'd sailed along so easy. It felt like the storm had always been there.

It didn't show signs of dying down, either. In fact, when it began to get lighter on the morning of the third day, it seemed to me like the waves was even higher than before, high as the mainmast almost, I reckoned, although it was hard to judge with everything moving every which way all the time.

But I knew they were higher than they were before, because now just about every wave would crash across the deck of the s.h.i.+p, so for a moment we'd be standing in a foot or two of water, all swirling around us, gray-green and foaming, and if we weren't hanging on to something, we'd maybe get washed right over the side. It was awful hard on the oxen. They'd try to struggle up out of the water was.h.i.+ng over the deck, staggering and falling all over the place. It was worse for the chickens, though, for the ones in the crates at the bottom couldn't go anyplace but just had to stay underwater for a minute or two until the decks cleared. I could see that more and more of them were drowning all the time.

We stayed on deck most of the time. There wasn't any use in going below to sleep, because it was about as wet down there as it was topside, and we couldn't sleep anyway. So we'd go down only when we was on duty at the bilge pumps, and then we'd try to eat some biscuit and sneak a little rest.

By the middle of the day we knew we were in real trouble. The waves were breaking across the s.h.i.+p regular now. The railing was splintered in a half-dozen places where the oxen had banged into it. Most of the chickens was drowned now, just lying in their cages soggy and dead. One of the oxen had drowned, too, and lay there on deck, his eyes open and his tongue hanging out, sliding back and forth as the s.h.i.+p rolled.

At noontime Birdsey and I went off duty and climbed into the hold to get something to eat and lie down a little. With all the hatches closed but one, it was pretty dark down there. We didn't dare light a lantern, so we sat in the dark eating cold biscuit, feeling wet and miserable and scared.

We was sitting there like that when there came down through the hatchway the voice of the first mate. "Captain," he said. He was standing and he was shouting, otherwise we couldn't have heard him for the wind. "Captain, we're sure to go over if we don't reduce the load. Better cut loose the deck cargo."

We didn't hear anything for a minute except the wind and the waves cras.h.i.+ng around, and the creaking of the hull. Then the mate said, "I know it's pounds and s.h.i.+llings, Captain, but it ain't worth drowning for."

Nothing but the storm for a minute; and the mate said, "I'd just as lief let my share go as risk foundering the s.h.i.+p. A share ain't much use when you're at the bottom of the sea feeding the fish."

Then the storm again; and the mate said, "I'm willing to take my risks, sir, but there's risks and risks. Better safe than sorry. I'd just as soon see that cargo cut loose right now."

More storm: "I know you're the captain, sir. I just hope you don't wait too long."

There wasn't anything further after that. Me and Birdsey sat in the dark.

"Birdsey, what's the use of cutting the cargo loose?"

"It lightens the s.h.i.+p, so we'd ride higher in the water. There's less chance of getting swamped."

"I wished he'd do it, then." I wasn't looking forward to being sold off to the West Indies, but drowning in that boiling sea struck me as worse.

"He won't be in no hurry about it. That deck cargo is worth two hundred pounds."

"It ain't worth much if it's at the bottom," I said.

"It'll hurt business to cut it loose."

It crossed my mind that the crew could throw the captain overboard and say he got washed away in the storm. It would be a great thing for me, because there wouldn't be anybody to sell me off if we ever got to Stacia. And I was about to say so when something stopped me. It was the way Birdsey was talking. It was coming to me that Birdsey was on Captain Ivers's side all the way. He wasn't on my side, he wasn't even on the crew's side: he was on the captain's side.

It kind of bowled me over to realize that. But when I thought about it for a little bit, I could see plainly that I shouldn't have expected anything else. If Birdsey went along with Captain Ivers he stood to do right well for himself. The Iverses didn't have children of their own. Birdsey was the only boy they got. Once he learned his navigation and got a little bigger, he'd get to be mate, and then maybe Captain Ivers would get another s.h.i.+p and make Birdsey captain of it, and after a while Birdsey would end up being a partner in the business and get to be rich, like Mr. Johnson. I'd heard it wouldn't take so long, either: there was men who was captains when they was eighteen years old.

If you looked at it that way, the deck cargo belonged to Birdsey, too, sort of. It made me see why Birdsey didn't tell me that the captain was going to sell me off. He was on the Iverses' side now, not mine. Oh, I didn't think he wanted me to be sold off; we'd been friends too long for that. But he wasn't going to get himself in trouble with Captain Ivers about it, neither.

It made me feel just so bitter that he'd switched away from me over to the Iverses. But down inside I knew that if it had been me, I'd have done the same. I decided to shut my mouth about throwing Captain Ivers overboard. That was mutiny, and I knew from my daddy that for mutiny a captain could up and hang you from one of the spars on his own say-so. According to the law, on a s.h.i.+p the captain was boss; he could do anything he wanted. Of course no captain was about to hang a person worth eighty pounds, mutiny or no mutiny. But he'd sure lash me down to the bone. I was too tired to think about it, though. We climbed into our bunks and tried to get a little sleep.

I woke up suddenly and found myself sitting in a pool of water. The sea was cascading down through the hatch. "Wake up, Birdsey, we're sinking," I shouted.

But he was already awake and struggling up out of his bunk. "Let's get out of here," he said.

We staggered through the water slos.h.i.+ng around in the hold and worked our way up the ladder to the deck. The wind was higher than ever, whistling through the rigging like the shriek of somebody being murdered. Rain was driving along almost horizontal, and the spume from the waves was blowing along with it, too. There was so much water in the air it was hard to know if we was under the sea or on top of it. It was near as dark as night, too, but every couple of minutes there'd be a flash of lightning that turned everything into bright day, and right afterward a clap of thunder, like a cannon shot. When that lightning hit, all of a sudden we'd see the most tremendous cliff of water standing straight up over our heads. We'd ride up the side of it, with the men on the tiller heaving until their eyes like to bulge out of their heads, and then as we rode up near the top, the wave would break over us and a foot of water would wash across the deck. We was riding too low. Sooner or later one of those waves was going to break before we'd rode up it very far, and we'd be swamped.

The crew were all on deck now and beginning to lash themselves to the railing or the masts or whatever they could. They were all looking back at the quarterdeck, where the mate was standing in front of Captain Ivers, waving his arms and shouting. I couldn't hear what he was saying over the wind and the waves, but Captain Ivers kept shaking his head.

"Tie yourself in," Birdsey shouted. It didn't seem like there was much point in it. We was all going to drown shortly, like enough. Hanging on to the rail, I began to look around for a piece of line. Then two things happened at once. First there was a flash of blinding light, as bright as I'd ever seen, and right on its heels the most tremendous crash that near deafened me. And in the flash of light I saw the pile of lumber lashed to the deck sort of rise up, looking about as big as a house, and come flying across the deck. The next thing I knew the mainmast was falling down on me, with the mainsail flopping and the rigging trailing along behind it like vines. I leapt across the s.h.i.+p and flung myself down on the decking. There was a great smas.h.i.+ng, ripping sound. The s.h.i.+p shuddered and began to heel to port. I jumped to my feet and grabbed on to the railing.

The mast was lying at an angle across the s.h.i.+p, with the broken b.u.t.t end lying just below the quarterdeck and the other end floating way out in the sea. Lying like that, it was pulling the s.h.i.+p over to port; but the broken lines attached to it were all tangled around everything so the mast couldn't slide off. One good wave from the port side would swamp us.

The mate had got hold of an ax and was working his way to the b.u.t.t of the mast through the mess of lines and splintered wood. A couple of other sailors were coming slowly along behind him. Birdsey and I moved up, too. The mate reached the b.u.t.t end of the mast and gave it a couple of hits with the ax to free it. Then he began moving up the mast, hacking away at the tangled lines like a man tr.i.m.m.i.n.g a fallen log. Me and Birdsey and the others grabbed on to the broken end and gave it a heave. We raised it up a foot, but it was still so tangled in the lines we couldn't heave it free. The mate went on hacking.

By now there were cut ends of lines everywhere standing out straight in the air. I s.n.a.t.c.hed at one and wrapped it around my fist, and just then there was another great flash of lightning and I saw standing over us the tallest wave I'd ever seen, like a giant wall. The top started to crumble and cascade down its own side. I squeezed both hands around the line and closed my eyes. The water hit, and I felt myself flung out straight like I'd been belted by a great hand.

I opened my eyes. I was underwater. I gave a couple of heaves with my arms and came up on top. The s.h.i.+p was half underwater, and I couldn't tell if I was on it or out of it. Then I realized that I still had line wrapped around my fist. Just then I felt something b.u.mp me. I turned. It was Birdsey, his eyes wide open, his arms waving as he tried to swim against the current was.h.i.+ng across the s.h.i.+p. "Help," he cried.

I reached out for him, but he was gone past me, and then I could only make out the shape of his head in the dark. I felt the s.h.i.+p rise and water race past me as it drained off the deck. At that moment there was another flash of lightning. In the instant of light I saw a confusion of water and railing and loose lines, and that great mast plunging over the side into the swirling sea. And alongside of it went Birdsey, the mate, and two other sailors.

"Birdsey," I cried as the light went out. The s.h.i.+p, freed of the weight of the mast, righted itself. I found myself up against the rail, the line still wrapped around my fist. There came another flash of light. There was two heads in the water staring up at the s.h.i.+p. One of them was Birdsey's. He was looking straight up at me, and his lips was moving. I couldn't hear him over the wind, but I reckoned I knew what he was trying to tell me about. Then the light flicked out, and I stood at the rail all cold and numb, wondering what Birdsey was feeling like out there in the water by himself, drowning. But even while I was thinking that, the thought came to me that with the mast gone and the hull leaking and at least two men missing, there was no way the Junius Brutus could make it to the West Indies. Oh, I was ashamed of myself for thinking that with Birdsey out there somewhere trying to keep himself afloat on those terrible waves; so ashamed I came near to jumping in and trying to save him. But I wouldn't do that, I knew. Just then Captain Ivers gave the order to cut loose the deck cargo. But it came too late for Birdsey.

6.

We pushed the loose planks overboard, untethered the oxen, and drove them through the place where the fallen mast had tore up the railing, and then we heaved the chickens overboard in their crates. Most of them was already drowned, anyway. Riding higher in the water, we lasted out the night, although we had only the one sail on the foremast to work with. By the time the dawn began to turn the sky from black to gray, the storm had begun to ease off. The seas were still running high, great heaving swells rising and falling as far as you could see, but the wind had gone down a good deal and the rain had let up. The hold was two feet deep in water, and a lot more was coming in.

The pumps were being manned full-time. We'd ridden her out.

But Birdsey was gone, and so was one of the sailors, washed over the side. The queer thing was that the mate and one of the other sailors who'd been struggling with the mast had got washed over, too; but somehow the water had swirled them back on board again before the s.h.i.+p had risen up, and they managed to grab on to something and save themselves.

We never really knew how it happened. Some said that lightning had hit the mast, busted it off, and that was what jarred the lumber loose. Others said that the lightning didn't have anything to do with it, the lumber had got loose on its own and had cracked the mast when it flew across the deck, so it didn't need but a touch of wind to split it. They said that if the captain had cut loose the lumber, it would never have happened. But there was no way to know for sure.

Captain Ivers never said anything about Birdsey. A day later, when the sky had cleared off and we was dried out a little, he held a funeral service for Birdsey and the other man on the quarterdeck. He just read a little piece out of the Bible and said a prayer. When he got to the part where it said, "Oh Lord, take Birdsey Ivers into Thy care," I busted out crying. I was ashamed to cry in front of the other men, but I felt so bad about Birdsey I couldn't help myself. I just had to cry.

Afterward I wondered what Captain Ivers thought about Birdsey dying. Did he feel sick inside? I reckoned he didn't. I reckoned he figured that it was the lightning that done it, and it wouldn't have mattered whether he'd cut loose the deck cargo or not. But he never said anything about it.

The storm had been bad luck for Birdsey, but good luck for me. The Junius Brutus was in no shape to go anywheres but straight into the nearest port. We'd got blown a couple of hundred miles back northeast of where the storm hit. The nearest ports were Philadelphia and New York, and the crew figured Captain Ivers would aim for New York, because he traded in New York so much he had friends there, people he could sell the cargo to, and s.h.i.+pyards where he could get the Junius Brutus repaired. And maybe I'd get a chance to visit Black Sam Fraunces and find out about Aunt w.i.l.l.y after all.

"He isn't going to like it, though," one of the sailors said. "He hates to pay that New York impost."

"He'll get around it some way," another sailor said. "He'll anchor out in the harbor and go in himself in the longboat to see if he can talk them into letting him come in for repairs without paying no tax. Then he'll unload on the sly."

I didn't care how he did it. I had finally had some luck. Once we got into New York I'd have a chance to hunt up Mr. Johnson at the Congress and find out about selling our notes. Maybe I'd get a chance to meet Black Sam Fraunces, too. I didn't know exactly how I'd get off s.h.i.+p, but I reckoned I'd find a way. Captain Ivers couldn't keep a watch over me every minute. He'd be busy doing business part of the time, anyway.

The trouble was, I couldn't take pleasure in my good luck, because of Birdsey. Sometimes I'd catch myself thinking about what we would do when we got to New York; how we'd go around together and see the sights. And then I'd remember that he was drowned and I'd get this terrible cold feeling. I'd try to understand what it must have been like for him out there in the water, all alone; but I couldn't. I missed him, that was the truth, even if he wasn't on my side anymore. It helped a lot to realize that when he knew he was drowning he tried to tell me about Captain Ivers selling me off to the West Indies. Of course I couldn't actually hear what he said. But I wanted to believe that he was trying to warn me and I decided I would. There wasn't any good reason not to.

Mainly I tried not to think about Birdsey. I had things of my own to worry about. One big question was what Captain Ivers would do once he had the Junius Brutus fitted out again. Would he try to head off for the West Indies again, or would he just give up, sell his cargo for whatever he could get in New York, and head home for Newfield? There wasn't any way of knowing; probably Captain Ivers didn't know himself what he was going to do.

Anyway, refitting the s.h.i.+p was going to take some time. She'd need a new mainmast and rigging, some new sails, the railing repaired, the hull caulked where it was leaking, and other things, too. Of course we did some of that work along the way. The way it always was on s.h.i.+pboard, one of the sailors was a carpenter, and he set to work making such repairs as he could with whatever spare planking he could find. But most of the repairs would have to be done in port, and that was bound to take a couple of weeks at least.

But what if Captain Ivers decided to go off to the West Indies, and me with our freedom money hid in the linen chest? That was a problem, all right, for if I found out he was going to do that, I'd have to run away. And then how would I get back to Connecticut to buy Mum her freedom? Besides, running away was risky. You went wandering around on your own all the time, and having to explain to people who you was, and what you were doing. I wasn't much good at making up lies like that. Mum always said things told on my face too much.

So we limped along, going mighty slow with one mast. It took us near a week to reach the New Jersey coast. But finally we sighted the Neversink, a great long cliff on the horizon. Oh, I tell you, it cheered us all up a good deal to see dry land. The sun was s.h.i.+ning, there was a nice brisk breeze, and as we got closer we could see trees and even seagulls swirling up and down over the coast.

We pushed along up the coast aways until we came around Sandy Hook into what they call the Lower Bay. Up ahead about ten miles was New York Harbor. To either side, a good distance aways, we could see the green line of land-Staten Island to the west, Coney Island to the east.

According to what one of the sailors said when we was tr.i.m.m.i.n.g the sails, there was a long sandbar underneath the bay here. "We ought to take on a pilot," he said, "but the old man's too cheap."

What we did instead was to tack back and forth for a while, and then by and by along came a big three-masted schooner, near the biggest s.h.i.+p I'd ever seen, and we waited it until it picked up a pilot and then we followed it in across the sandbar. The schooner wasn't the only s.h.i.+p around, not by a long shot. I counted twenty-two of them, coming and going in-big schooners, brigs like the Junius Brutus, little sailing craft headed for nearby ports on the New Jersey coast. Once I saw some porpoises, too, leaping around in the water.

A couple of hours later we went through the Narrows, where the land was only a few hundred yards to either side of us. Then it widened out into the Upper Bay, and we eased forward, still limping along pretty slow. About five miles ahead was Manhattan Island, with the North River going off around it to port, and the East River going around it the other way. There was a couple of islands in the bay-Governor's Island to starboard and Bedloe's Island to port. We eased along, and about noon the captain gave the order to drop anchor, and we stopped. We'd made it safe into New York Port.

We was only about a mile off Manhattan Island, and I could see it plain as day, with the windows sparkling in the suns.h.i.+ne. My, it looked big. First there was the Battery, a great stone wall that rose up out of the water to make a sort of end to the island. There was an old fort, too, sitting up on a mound of dirt twice as high as a house. Just beyond the Battery there was a street lined with warehouses, and beyond that I don't know how many houses-thousands, I guess, and a lot of them brick, too. Sticking up through the houses everywhere was church spires, and here and there tall buildings, some of them maybe five or six stories high, near as I could figure. Oh, it got me all excited, knowing that I was looking at one of the biggest cities in America and maybe the whole world, too. I was just as eager as I could be to get off the brig and see it all.

Soon as the anchor was down, Captain Ivers ordered the longboat to be readied so's he could row into the city. "He's going in to argue about the New York impost," one of the sailors said. "He won't bring the brig into a slip until he talks them out of it. I don't blame him none, either. I don't see why Connecticut folk ought to pay duties to New York, anyway. None of the rest of us figure on getting onto land for a spell."

I stood on the deck, looking at the city across the sparkling water, trying to decide what I ought to do. When the captain went, I figured I could slip off the brig just before dawn, swim to sh.o.r.e, see Mr. Johnson, and swim back just before nightfall. It wouldn't be an easy stunt, though. As close as I could reckon, it was a mile, more or less, to Manhattan. I'd never swum a mile, nor anything like it. Swimming around those rivers in Newfield, I'd never done more than a couple of hundred feet at a time. There wasn't any occasion for it.

I looked around to the islands on either side of us. Bedloe's Island, to port, was closest, about a half-mile away, I judged. There wasn't much on it-trees, and on the side facing Manhattan a stone building and a little dock with a small boat tied up to it. I was pretty sure I could swim that far, anyway, and then beg somebody to give me a ride from there into the city.

Still, it was a risk. On the whole, it was probably a better idea to wait until we pulled into dock and watch for my opportunity to skip off for a few hours then.

I was thinking that when the idea came to me that I'd better get the soldiers' notes out of the box of linen I'd hid them in. They'd ridden out the storm fine-I'd checked to be sure-but they was still in that box. I didn't want to risk that box getting unloaded before I could get them out. It was best to do it quick as possible.

So I slipped away from the rail, went forward to the hatchway like I was on some business, climbed down the ladder, and slipped over toward the stack of boxes where the cherrywood linen chest was. There was a nice patch of sunlight s.h.i.+ning on the barrels and boxes down there, so I could see my way around pretty well, even out of the suns.h.i.+ne patch. The oxen was on their feet, chewing away, looking like they was enjoying themselves for the first time in a week. I worked my way over to the stack of boxes and started to untie the rope that was around it. Just at that minute a voice shouted, "Arabus," and I knew Captain Ivers had spotted me.

He was halfway down the ladder, looking at me, and I had a hunch he'd seen me come down and had followed me. "What are you messing around with these boxes for?"

"I ain't doing nothing, Captain," I said. "I just came down to see to the oxen."

"You're lying," he said. "I know what you're doing. You're looking for something to set aside to sell for yourself when we dock."

"No, sir," I said. I knew right away that Big Tom had been talking about me. "I wouldn't do nothing like that."

"Don't lie to me, Arabus. You're out to steal what isn't yours."

"No, sir, honest, I wasn't thinking of nothing like that. I just came down to check the oxen."

Suddenly he jumped off the ladder and made a run at me. I ducked, but he caught me on the side of my head, and I fell down between the barrels. Then he grabbed hold of my s.h.i.+rt front, jerked me up again, and the next thing I knew, he had hauled me off into his cabin, stomped out, and slammed the door shut. I heard the key turn in the lock. I was trapped.

It was an awful feeling. Through the little windows in the stern I could see Manhattan Island aglittering away in the sunlight. How was I going to get there now?

I looked around. I'd never been in the captain's quarters before. It was a good-size room for a s.h.i.+p-about fifteen feet square. Underneath the windows was a bunk, covered with a blanket, where the captain and the mate slept-they stood different watches and wouldn't ever be sleeping at the same time. Across from the bunk was a table covered with charts and papers. It had a compa.s.s screwed into it. A telescope hung in a rack, and there was a little safe and some casks of rum the captain kept locked up so the sailors wouldn't get into them.

I saw right away that the windows was too small for me to crawl through. I was in a peck of trouble, and I knew it. Oh, I hated Big Tom; it was his doing I was in this mess.

I lay down on the bunk with my hands under my head, staring out the little windows up at the sky. Chunks of white clouds drifted northeastward. In a little while some of them was going to be over Newfield, casting shadows over the harbor, the town, the house, maybe even Mum out in the backyard hoeing the garden patch or hanging up Mrs. Ivers's clothes to dry. I wished I was back there, helping Mum with the was.h.i.+ng in the warm suns.h.i.+ne. I wished I was anyplace but where I was.

As I lay there I heard the noise of ropes squeaking in pulleys and I knew they were lowering the longboat into the water. There was some shouting, and splas.h.i.+ng. I raised myself up and looked out the window. The longboat was pulling away toward Manhattan. The captain was sitting in the stern. Big Tom was rowing.

Suddenly a suspicion crossed my mind that Captain Ivers was going to sell me as quick as he could. The more I thought about it, the more sense it made. He didn't like me, and he didn't trust me not to run off. On top of it, he was pretty sure I'd stolen our soldiers' notes back. He was bound to figure that I'd got them hidden somewheres back in Newfield and would sell them the first chance I got. Oh, he had a dozen good reasons for getting rid of me, and if those weren't enough, Big Tom would give him some more. Big Tom, he just didn't like any other blacks around. He'd made himself special to Captain Ivers, and he didn't want anybody getting in his way.

I felt about as low as I ever had. I didn't see any way out of it. Captain Ivers would keep me locked up until he'd found somebody to sell me to, and then I'd be carried away in manacles. I'd seen a black man sold like that once. White folks didn't take any chances when they sold you off; they tethered your feet with a short piece of chain so's you could only take little steps. Oh, I felt terrible.

Then all at once in my head I saw my daddy standing up staring down at me. I looked at him, and he looked at me. I knew what he was thinking, too. He was thinking that if he'd been in my fix, he wouldn't have laid there on his back feeling sorry for himself. He'd have got up and done something about it.

I sat up and had a look around. Then I kneeled up on the bunk and studied the little stern windows. They was screwed shut.

I got off the bunk and crossed over to the door.

It was solid planking, with two big iron hinges strapped across it. I looked at the hinges. They wasn't screwed down but bolted clear through the door. There wasn't any way I could get them off, even if I had the tools to do it with.

Then I checked the lock. It was set in the door, and knowing Captain Ivers, I figured it was a pretty good one and wouldn't be very easy to bust open. I leaned my weight on the door and pressed with my shoulder. The door didn't give at all. I pulled back and gave it a little hit. It still didn't budge. So I backed off and sat down on the bunk and looked around some more-the walls, the windows, and finally the ceiling, which was under the quarterdeck.

There was an oil lamp hanging from the ceiling. I stared at it for a minute, and all of a sudden an idea came to me.

I jerked the woolen blanket off the bed and dumped it onto the floor near the door. Then I unhooked the oil lamp from its holder and poured the oil onto the blanket, spreading it around as much as I could. I looked around for something to light it with. There wasn't anything in sight. I went around behind the captain's desk and pulled open the drawer. There was a flint and steel in a little leather case. I took them out, knelt over the blanket, and began to shower sparks down on the oily places. In a minute a red spot began to glow in the oil. I puffed on it a bit. It began to spread out, a glowing red circle in the wool with wisps of smoke coming up from it. I blew some more. Low, yellow flames began to flicker on the wool.

I stood back and waited. The smoke was rising up and drifting around the room. I backed off farther and climbed up onto the bunk, where I could bust open one of the windows if the smoke got too bad. It drifted up toward me. I coughed and pulled my s.h.i.+rt up over my head to filter out the smoke. It didn't help much. I coughed again and lowered my s.h.i.+rt down.

The smoke was clouding up the room pretty good. I knew that in a couple of minutes I wasn't going to be able to breathe very much. I put my arm over my mouth and nose, jumped off the bunk, s.n.a.t.c.hed the telescope out of its rack, and took a swing at one of the little windows. The gla.s.s tinkled and fell out into the water, and the smoke began to ease out of the broken hole. "Help," I shouted. "Fire, fire."

I didn't hear anything for a minute. Then there was a shout and a gabble of voices, and running footsteps, and in about ten seconds the cabin door flew open and the mate and two sailors was standing there. I dashed toward the door, choking and gasping. The three men came charging in. I bounced off them and nearly fell down, but I managed to stagger past them and race toward the ladder. Behind me I could hear the men cursing and shouting as they stamped on the blanket to put the fire out.

I hit the deck, jumped across it to the railing, and swung over it. Just then I felt a hand grab hold of the back of my s.h.i.+rt. I jerked and let the weight of my body hang out over the water. My s.h.i.+rt pulled free of the hand and then I was falling. I'd got away. But our soldiers' notes were in the linen chest in the hold of the Junius Brutus.

7.