Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5 JULY 12, 1776 JUST BEFORE DAWN NORWALK, CONNECTICUT Nate's eyes snapped open. Hideous pictures flashed through his mind — a blood-streaked face, clawlike hands grabbing for his throat.

He blinked hard to end this nightmare, to shake himself awake. But then Nate understood — he was awake. He was hiding out in the woods about three miles from Storch's house. This is where he'd wound up after his breathless run. He'd sat here under the trees for hours, in a kind of numb shock, trying to figure out what to do. Somehow he must have fallen asleep. It was now pitch dark. Strange sounds rose up around him. Clicks and buzzes and hoots, the rustling of invisible wings and paws. His jaw throbbed. His neck felt swollen and bruised. But even worse was the loneliness. He felt like a castaway clinging to a barrel in a stormy ocean. He'd made a giant mistake, he realized, fighting back tears. He had to go back to Storch's — to Eliza and Theo. He stood up and started to make his way through the woods.

Storch would be calmer now, Nate told himself. And whatever Storch might to do to him, he'd have to take it. Because what choice did he have? He didn't have a single coin in his pocket or a scrap of food to eat. He was just a boy, alone in the world. But then as Nate walked along, he thought about another boy who had once been by himself. The pirate Slash O'Shea. Nate slowed down as he remembered the stories Papa had told him about when Slash was a kid. He'd been born in London, England. His parents had died before he was five years old. He wasn't called Slash yet — back then he was called Jonathan. With his parents gone, he wound up in a filthy orphanage, more like a prison than a home for helpless kids. The food was barely fit for pigs. The beatings were brutal. Finally young Jonathan couldn't take it. When he was ten years old, he ran away.

He must have been terrified, Nate thought. Like Nate was now. But there was no way he'd go back to that wretched orphanage. Jonathan got himself a job on a ship, as a cabin boy. He'd sailed away. And he never looked back. Nate pictured a boy standing on the deck of a big sailing ship. The boy's face became clearer… until it became Nate's own face. Nate blinked. Something inside him shimmered. Suddenly the night didn't seem so dark. If young Slash could go to sea, why couldn't he? Sure, Nate was too young — Papa wouldn't hire cabin boys who were younger than fourteen. But Nate was bigger and taller than most eleven-year-olds. And Papa had taught him to work harder than sailors twice his age. Nate quickened his step as he made his plan.

New York City was about fifty miles south of here. He'd go to Norwalk Harbor. There were always boats heading down to New York City, loaded up with vegetables or oysters or hogs to sell. Nate would hide out on one of those boats. If the winds and currents were strong, he would be in New York City by the afternoon. The city had one of the busiest harbors in the colonies, with merchant ships heading to the Caribbean and Europe and all corners of the world. There had to be at least one captain willing to give Nate a chance. Nate could practically feel Papa's hand on his back, pushing him along. He saw Theo in his mind, with his bright and hopeful eyes. And remembered the last word Eliza had said to him. "Go."

He made it to the harbor several hours later. The docks were already crowded with sailors and fishermen preparing for the day. And for once Nate lucked out. At the end of the dock was the sailing ship Valerie. It made weekly runs to New York City, Nate knew. And its deck was already loaded up with baskets and crates heaped with corn and potatoes and cherries. The sails were up. The ship was about to leave! There were only three men working on the small ship. They were too busy working to notice when he slipped on board. He scurried across the deck and hid himself between two big baskets of corn. A few minutes later sailors pushed the boat away from the dock. And with a whoosh of wind, Nate was on his way.