by Ann Hood
He asked the question with a somber tone.
“Things are . . . fine,” Felix said.
Alexander and the reverend exchanged a confused look.
“The Loyalists aren’t causing trouble for the Colonists?” Reverend Knox asked.
“Well . . . ,” Felix said, thinking hard.
Of course! The Revolutionary War hadn’t even begun yet. No Boston Tea Party. No Shot Heard Round the World.
“Of course there are some very unhappy people,” Felix added.
Maisie looked at him, confused.
“Unhappy with the king,” he added.
“Yes, we’ve heard,” Reverend Knox said. He turned to Alexander. “Shall we go to my office?”
“Yes,” Alexander said. “My heavens, yes!”
The two men put their arms around each other’s shoulders and started to walk off.
“Come on,” Maisie said to Felix.
“Come on where?”
“Wherever they’re going,” she said.
Maisie and Felix crouched outside under the open window of Reverend Knox’s office, a room off his peach-colored house. The office was full of men who smoked cigars and drank and talked excitedly to one another in booming voices.
Finally one of them called for silence.
“We are here to deliver our good news to young Mr. Hamilton,” someone said.
“Here, here!” the others shouted, clinking their spoons against their glasses.
Then the crowd grew quiet.
“Alexander,” a man said in a somber tone.
Maisie recognized Alexander’s voice as he answered, “Mr. Kortwright.”
“Your employer and my associate, the esteemed Nicholas Cruger, and I have come to an agreement this afternoon after reading your letter in the Gazette.”
Mr. Kortwright paused for what seemed to be forever. Maisie found herself holding her breath as she waited for him to speak again.
Finally he said, “We’ve gathered the men you see here today, men who have witnessed firsthand your good business sense and keen intelligence in the absence of Mr. Cruger during his illness this past year, men who have read your literary writings, men who, as the merchants and leaders of this fine island, believe in you, young Mr. Hamilton. Men who believe that you should have the opportunity to pursue your studies in New York.”
Maisie gasped. “He’s going to New York,” she whispered. “He is the one we’re supposed to meet and give the coin to.”
“I think you’re right,” Felix whispered back.
Again, Mr. Kortwright had paused dramatically.
“Therefore,” he continued at last, “Nicholas Cruger has agreed to consign four annual cargoes of Saint Croix produce to be sold toward your support and education.”
Reverend Knox spoke then. “Alexander,” he said, his voice softer than Mr. Kortwright’s, “we have secured contributions from all of the men you see here in this room. The four hundred pounds of pledges will cover four years of tuition and board as well as your transportation to the mainland. Letters of recommendation have been written to our close friends and associates, who we trust will welcome you into their homes and guide you.”
“My gratitude—” Alexander began, but he was immediately hushed.
“Your potential, my dear boy,” Reverend Knox said, “is limitless.”
“I suspect you will soon be with my son Neddy,” a new voice said, “taking premedical studies.”
“Then on to Edinburgh,” Reverend Knox added.
Alexander laughed. “Let me first get into a college, Reverend.”
“There is only one obstacle,” Nicholas Cruger said seriously. “The American school year has already started, and there is only one more safe sailing there before winter arrives.”
“Why is this a problem?” Alexander asked.
“The ship sails tonight,” Cruger said. “It leaves in a matter of hours.”
Maisie grabbed Felix’s hand and held on tight.
“Well then,” Alexander said. “I need to go and pack.”
Everyone in the room burst into wild applause.
“I will meet you on the dock,” Reverend Knox said above the din. “I have your ticket to Boston, and then a stagecoach ticket on to New York.”
Maisie gasped. She turned to her brother and said, “That’s it, Felix! We have to get on that ship!”
Stowaways
As Maisie and Felix ran down to the dock, Felix began to worry.
“What about pirates?” he asked his sister. “What about shipwrecks?”
“We’ll worry about all that once we get on that ship,” Maisie said without slowing down.
“But we don’t have any money for tickets,” Felix said, struggling to keep up.
At that, Maisie stopped. “I know,” she said, grinning. “We’re going to stow away.”
“What? No way!” Felix said. He folded his arms across his chest to show her he meant it.
“People do it all the time,” Maisie said.
“Like who?” Felix said, exasperated.
“Like . . . like . . . stowaways,” she said, and with that she took off again toward the docks.
“That’s a ridiculous answer!” Felix called after her.
When she didn’t even pause, Felix started off after her, his chest heavy with worry. Even if he could put aside his fears about the catastrophes that might happen at sea, now that the ships were coming into view, he couldn’t ignore the fact that the only time he ever went on a sailboat, he threw up the entire afternoon.
Old friends of his parents had invited them to their beach house in Connecticut. The weekend had been boring, full of private jokes between his parents and the other couple, late night dinners of food Felix didn’t like—leg of lamb and swordfish and lots of zucchini—and the couple’s baby screaming all the time. Worse, they’d spent that Saturday on a sailboat, a Pearson, the guy had said all braggy—and Felix threw up as soon as they left the dock. He didn’t stop until they got back three hours later. Keep your eye on the horizon, the guy kept telling him. But if you’re seasick and the world is spinning, how are you supposed to do that?
“Maisie,” Felix said, already queasy with anticipation, “remember Connecticut? Remember the Pearson?”
The night was the blackest night he had ever seen, despite the stars glittering high above them. Just the sound of the waves crashing against the docks made him queasy. Felix wondered if he’d ever wanted his own bed more than he did standing there in the darkness.
Maisie stood surveying the ships as if she could figure out which one was headed to Boston.
“Yeah, I remember the Pearson,” she said. “That crabby baby. Talullah.”
“And me throwing up. Remember?”
She turned to him, her eyes clouding with the memory. “Felix,” she said, grabbing both his shoulders firmly, “you have to keep your eye on the horizon. You have to get through this.”
“Are you kidding? For like a month?”
Maisie considered this. “You have to,” she said finally. “Now let’s find that ship.”
Felix watched his sister walk purposefully down the dock and right up to a group of sailors heaving barrels onto a ship. Slowly, he joined her there.
A burly sailor with a red beard and a nose shaped like a turnip pointed toward a large five-masted ship. “The Thunderbolt’s the one, Missy. She’s sailing to America.”
Hearing the name Thunderbolt made Felix’s stomach jump nervously. He hadn’t even considered thunder out there yet.
“Thank you, sir,” Maisie said in the sweetest voice she could muster. She practically skipped off, tugging Felix’s hand for him to follow.
“Thunderbolt?” he moaned. “We really need to rethink this ide
a.”
“Thunderbolt,” Maisie said. “It sounds fast, right? We’ll be in Boston in no time.”
$ $ $ $ $
Maisie couldn’t believe how easy it was to sneak onto the ship. No one even seemed to notice the two of them as they walked on board. No one came around collecting tickets or asking where they belonged. They just slipped by, unnoticed.
“I don’t like this one bit,” Felix said.
Maisie decided to ignore him. She’d gotten all worried when they’d landed in Clara Barton’s barn because of the way he’d carried on about his arm, which he was convinced he’d broken. In the end, all he had was a big bruise on his elbow. If she let him, he’d talk himself into being seasick before they’d even set sail. No, Maisie thought, she would have to convince him that he would be just fine.
“I read somewhere that seasickness is unusually rare on large ships,” Maisie said. From the ship’s railing, she kept her eye on the passengers boarding the ship, watching for Alexander to show up.
“Really?” Felix said, squinting suspiciously at her.
“Yup,” she said.
Maisie saw Alexander’s small body lugging a heavy trunk onto the dock. Several wealthy-looking men accompanied him, one of them talking and gesturing wildly, another carrying a small suitcase, and yet another helping push the trunk. She considered waving to him but thought better of it. Probably not a good idea to draw attention to themselves until the ship had set sail.
“Maybe we should go below? Kind of hide?” Felix suggested as if he’d read her mind.
“Good idea,” Maisie agreed.
They followed the stream of people disappearing down steps that led below deck. The stairs were rickety wooden things that seemed to go on forever. Finally, they reached the lower deck. It smelled like sweat and food she didn’t want to eat. The ceiling was low and the halls narrow, giving Maisie a claustrophobic feeling. It would be easy to get seasick down here, she thought.
“Once we leave the harbor, we’ll go back up,” she told her brother. “So you can look at the horizon.”
Panic swept across Felix’s face. “What if it rains? What if it lightnings? I can’t stay up there. And it’s awful down here. It’s smelly and close and dark.”
Maisie thought fast. “Maybe Alexander will let us stay with him in his cabin,” she said. “I bet that’ll be better than this.”
“Why would he ever do that?” Felix said, exasperated.
“Because he’ll take pity on us,” Maisie said with more certainty than she felt.
“But what if—”
Maisie sighed, loud and dramatic. “Can we please just take it one step at a time?”
More passengers came down the stairs now, into the large area where Maisie and Felix stood. They pushed past them on their way to their cabins. Men carried trunks on their shoulders, and women had large square baskets in their hands. The ship rocked from all the movement, and Felix placed his hand on the wall to steady himself.
A woman in a blue hat with a feather in it paused in front of Maisie.
“Are you turned around?” she asked in an Irish accent.
“Uh . . . yes,” Maisie said.
“Confusing, isn’t it?” the woman said, and moved on.
A bell clanged above them, and excited voices filtered down.
“I think we’re taking off,” Maisie said, excited herself.
“Maisie Robbins?” a voice said.
Maisie followed it and saw Alexander making his way toward her through the other passengers. His reddish hair stuck up at funny angles in the heat like her own did, and he was grinning.
“You’re on this ship, too?” he said, pleased.
Maisie nodded.
“Which cabin are you in?” Alexander said, taking a slip of paper from his pocket and checking his own ticket.
Just then the ship lurched forward. People on deck clapped and shouted. The sound of sails being raised and catching the wind filled the ship as the Thunderbolt moved quickly away from the island of Saint Croix.
“The funny thing is,” Maisie said, “we actually don’t have tickets.”
$ $ $ $ $
Alexander closed the door of his cabin after Maisie and Felix settled themselves inside. They sat side by side on the small sofa, Felix practically not breathing at all in anticipation of what Alexander might do with them.
“Explain yourselves, please,” Alexander said quietly, leveling his blue eyes directly at them.
“Well,” Maisie began.
When she didn’t say anything more, Alexander said, “Yes?”
“Well,” Maisie said again, nodding this time. “We need to get back to New York, but we’re out of money.”
Felix nodded, too. “That’s the exact truth,” he said.
“Please don’t turn us in,” Maisie said.
“Do you see that trunk?” Alexander said, pointing to a scuffed brown leather trunk. “It’s filled with books. Books I need to read on this journey. When I arrive in New York, I need to catch up so that I can go to King’s College and complete my studies. I’m about as behind as a person can be.”
“We won’t bother you,” Maisie said. “We promise. You can read the entire time, and you won’t even know we’re here.”
Alexander began to pace.
“Surely I wouldn’t be on this ship if it weren’t for the kindness of others,” he said.
Even though he spoke out loud, it was clear he was speaking to himself. “Ever since Mother died, I’ve had to rely on my own good intuition and ambition and intelligence, and that has gotten me where I am right now,” he continued, still pacing. “Aren’t these letters of recommendation in my pocket from men who believe in me? Wouldn’t I be completely rudderless without Reverend Knox or Mr. Stevens or even Mr. Cruger to guide me?”
Alexander stopped pacing and looked at Maisie and Felix.
“Yes,” he said. “You’ll stay here in my cabin. Out of my way, quiet as mice.”
Maisie jumped up. “Thank you so much!” she said.
“But if anything happens, like what happened to the Halcyon two weeks ago, you’ll have to look out for yourselves,” he said.
Felix got up, too, but slowly. “Wh-what happened to the Halcyon?” he asked.
“Pirates,” Alexander said. “On this very route.”
“Pirates!” Felix said, glaring at Maisie.
The truth was, the idea of pirates seemed exciting to Maisie. She imagined handsome men in white ruffled shirts and big black hats with skulls and crossbones on them rushing the ship. Swords slashing through the air. Maybe one of them would have a wooden leg. Maybe one of them would have a parrot on his shoulder.
“These are dangerous seas,” Alexander said.
Still caught up in her fantasy, Maisie just shrugged.
But Felix asked, “What happened to the Halcyon’s passengers?”
“Murdered, of course,” Alexander said.
$ $ $ $ $
The journey from Saint Croix to Boston would take almost three weeks. Alexander brought them bread from dinner and fruit, and sometimes molasses cake that tasted terrible. Felix spent much of his time on deck, keeping his eye on the horizon and on the lookout for pirates. He wasn’t sure what to look for exactly, but he hoped he would recognize them if they appeared. To his surprise, he didn’t get seasick that first week. He enjoyed the spray of salt water that misted his face and the occasional glimpse he caught of dolphins leaping into the air. Once he saw three whales, breaching and spouting water from their blowholes. At night, he liked to lie on his back and gaze up at the inky sky with its seemingly endless stars twinkling at him.
One night, Alexander joined him up there. He brought Felix some dried cod that was salty and fishy but somehow tasted delicious.
&nbs
p; “Do you see Orion there?” Alexander said, tracing the outline of the hunter and his belt with his fingers.
“I do!” Felix said. Back home, lights blocked out the stars. Even in Newport, he couldn’t really make out the shapes of constellations. But here, the stars arranged themselves so clearly in the sky that he could almost imagine Orion hunting up there.
“Cassiopeia,” Alexander said, this time tracing the shape of the three sisters. “Ah!” he said. “Look at the Big Dipper.”
“Like a ladle,” Felix said. “Scooping up the ocean.”
“You must be a poet, too,” Alexander said.
“Oh, I don’t know.” Felix had never admitted to anyone that indeed he did like to write poems. “Do you know what a haiku is?” he asked Alexander.
“Is it a poem of some kind?”
“Yes. Three lines. Five syllables in the first line. Seven in the second. And then five again in the third,” Felix explained. “I like to write those. My teacher last year hung mine up on the bulletin board.”
“Did she?” Alexander said, impressed. “Can you recite it for me?”
“I think so,” Felix said, even though of course he could recite it. He knew it by heart and could picture it, printed in dark blue ink, the paper mounted on lighter blue construction paper, hanging there for the whole school to see.
Felix cleared his throat. “Why does love vanish? Just yesterday we smiled. Today our hearts break.”
“Bravo,” Alexander said softly. “I counted the syllables as you spoke. Such an interesting form.”
“It’s Japanese,” Felix said. Saying the poem had made him suddenly sad, remembering how he’d written it after his parents told them they were getting divorced. Remembering how his heart did break that day.
“Japanese?” Alexander said, puzzled.
Was Japan not a country in 1772? Felix wondered. Or maybe it was called something else back then?
“Near China?” he tried.
“Ah,” Alexander said. “The Orient.”
The moon was full but waxing. Beside it, a small, bright star blazed.
“Can you recite one of yours?” Felix asked.
Alexander was quick to agree. “Ah! Whither, whither am I flown, A wandering guest in worlds unknown?”