Patrick Tracy Series 2-Book Bundle Includes 'Abandoned' & 'In Training'

By Christopher Noble

This is a historical adventure about the author’s actual 5th great grandfather, Patrick Tracy. Born and raised on a farm in 1711, Patrick had been orphaned at the age of ten, when both his father and mother died within days of each of other. Since his father’s brother, Robert, wanted nothing to do with the boy, he sent his young nephew out alone, on a one-way ticket aboard a cargo ship to sail from Wexford, Ireland to Boston, in the Massachusetts Bay.
Though Patrick was young and abandoned, his parents had left him with a precious gift; they had taught him how to read, write, and work mathematical problems. This knowledge leads Patrick down a path of many exciting adventures, and a new way of life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christopher Noble
• Release date: Apr 22, 2016
• ISBN: 9781310249228

Christopher Noble

After graduating from college, Christopher Noble entered into the military service as a noncombat arms officer. When he left the US Army as a Captain in the Medical Service Corps, he earned two Bronze Stars—one with a “V” device, a Purple Heart, the Vietnam Cross of Gallantry with a Gold Star, and the Combat Medics Badge. He next entered into a career of business opportunities that lead him to an American oil company overseas where he managed multi-million dollar budgets. When he returned to the USA he became the Director of Operations and Business Manager to an independent school, in upstate New York where he saved the school from bankruptcy. This is his proudest accomplishment to date. He joined the Peace Corps, as a Business Specialist to assist East Europeans in western business practices, and was sent to Ukraine. Presently, Mr. Noble is in the process of publishing books about his many life experiences, as well as writing a four book series about his 5th great grandfather, Patrick Tracy, whose picture is now hanging in the National Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C.

Book preview

Book One

Patrick Tracy: In Training

Book Two

Cover Art Sunrise Sailing Ship © Elen | Dreamstime.com

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2016 Christopher Noble

Smashwords Edition License Notes

The Patrick Tracy Series 2-Book Bundle is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This eBook is a work of fiction. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, recorded, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission from the copyright owner of this book.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters – even those based on real people – as well as places, and incidents are either used fictitiously or are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

BOOK ONE

CHAPTER ONE . . . . . . . . . ABANDONMENT

CHAPTER TWO . . . . . . . . EXPLORING

CHAPTER THREE . . . . . . VOYAGE OVER

CHAPTER FOUR . . . . . . . NEW HOME

CHAPTER FIVE . . . . . . . . BECOMING AN APPRENTICE

CHAPTER SIX . . . . . . . . . GETTING READY

CHAPTER SEVEN . . . . . . UNDERWAY

CHAPTER EIGHT . . . . . . . LEARNING THE ROPES

CHAPTER NINE . . . . . . . . LONDON

CHAPTER TEN . . . . . . . . . SAINT PETERSBURG

CHAPTER ELEVEN . . . . . THE BIG BLOW

CHAPTER TWELVE . . . . RECOVERY

CHAPTER THIRTEEN . . . JAMAICA

CHAPTER FOURTEEN . . . MATTHEW WINSLOW

CHAPTER FIFTEEN . . . . . . RETURN TO BOSTON

BOOK TWO

CHAPTER ONE . . . . . . . . . TOO MUCH SAIL

CHAPTER TWO . . . . . . . . SETTING THE STAGE

CHAPTER THREE . . . . . . WE’RE PARTNERS

CHAPTER FOUR . . . . . . . WHEELS OF JUSTICE

CHAPTER FIVE . . . . . . . . MISTER TWEED

CHAPTER SIX . . . . . . . . . PUT TO THE TEST

CHAPTER SEVEN . . . . . . IPSWICH & PLANS

CHAPTER EIGHT . . . . . . . DEVELOPING MISTER HALE

CHAPTER NINE . . . . . . . . MISTER TOLSKI

CHAPTER TEN . . . . . . . . . THE LETTER

CHAPTER ELEVEN . . . . . GETTING TO KNOW MATTHEW

CHAPTER TWELVE . . . . MISTER BISHOP

CHAPTER THIRTEEN . . . PLANS

CHAPTER FOURTEEN . . . THINGS ARE ABOUT TO CHANGE

CHAPTER FIFTEEN . . . . . . PATRICK IN CHARGE

CHAPTER SIXTEEN . . . . . MISTER HALE

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN . . MAKING FIRST MATE

DEDICATION

I would like to dedicate this book to my mother and father, Bea and John Noble.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I would like to thank Betty Jackson for providing me with relevant information

about our family history and important historical facts regarding Patrick Tracy.

BOOK ONE

Patrick Tracy: Abandoned

CHAPTER ONE

Abandonment

My name is Patrick Tracy. My family has lived forever in Ireland in a place called Wexford. I was ten years old when my uncle took me to Wexford’s only port to put me on a ship bound for Boston in the Massachusetts Bay.

My story follows.

This ship is enormous. As I gaze upon it, the sun’s reflection off the brilliant white gunnels hurts my eyes. The hull is blacker than black in dramatic contrast to the gunnels. From a distance it looks as if this ship might have cannons on board. I’ve never seen anything so large in my entire life. It occupies the entire length of the wharf. I have to crane my neck back as far as possible just to see the very tippy tops of the three towering masts.

Hundreds of people are milling about; they cover the entire wharf like ants on an apple. There are so many people it’s difficult for me to pass through the crowd. It seems as if all of Ireland has come to see this ship.

Come on, boy! Get a move on! Uncle Robert commands as he knees me forward with every step I take.

Stop your sniveling! I don’t have time to waste, Uncle growls as he shoves me again in the middle of my back.

I take another glance at the tops of the masts as Uncle gives me a mighty shove that sends me sprawling upon the gangplank leading to the ship’s main deck. Get up off that ramp, or I’ll walk right over ya, he viciously hisses, and then he gives me a hard kick in the thigh.

I don’t want to leave! I cry out, but I also think anything would be better than staying with my uncle. I give him my best glare of utter contempt as I scramble to my feet. I don’t want to go. All I want is to be near Mama and Da.

On the main deck workers are making ready to replace the cover on one of the huge cargo holds.

Uncle Robert strides over to a sailor who looks as if he might be in charge and demands, Where do I put this lad’s gear?

The sailor points to another man with a dirty apron tied around his middle and answers, Go see him. The sailor then turns and continues preparing the ship to leave port.

I am intrigued with this man with the dirty apron. He looks strange, and there’s something very wrong with his face. Uncle Robert stomps up to him as if Uncle owns the ship. But before Uncle Robert can say a word, this sailor asks, May I help you? His words are not easily understood because the sailor has no teeth.

Where do I put this boy’s belongings? He’s a full-paying passenger, Uncle Robert demands in an authoritarian voice.

He’s kind of young ta be traveling all by himself, ain’t he? the man asks before giving Uncle Robert a steely look.

He’s a full-paying passenger, and here’s his ticket to prove it. I bought it me-self, and that’s all you need to know. Now where does he put his belongings? Uncle Robert demands.

Down that companionway, the first entry to starboard, the sailor answers with a gross, toothless scowl.

Which way is starboard? Uncle Robert snarls back, looking at the sailor in total disgust.

To the right, at the bottom of the stairs, landlubber, the sailor answers with a twinkle in his eye.

Oh, my Lord! I don’t know what that man just said, but I think he just talked back to Uncle Robert. Nobody ever talks back to Uncle—not like that! I am giddy. I hate Uncle Robert’s guts.

He shoves me from behind and forces me into the dark, narrow, rancid stairway. Uncle is right behind me, making sure I cannot get away or get lost. Now you listen to me, boy; you behave, and don’t you come back, do you understand? Uncle Robert hisses with pure hatred as he shoves me through the doorway into the tiny, dark cabin.

I stare at my uncle with panic. Tears roll down my cheeks. I don’t want to die. This place is a dungeon. Nobody knows I’m here. I am going to die in this rotten hole of a cabin.

What ya bawling about? I’m glad you and all that ya stand for is about to go away, and I never want to see ya ever again! he hisses again as he drops my trunk on the bunk. He turns and slams the cabin door behind him.

I hear him climb the stairway as if a ghost were after him. I cannot stand that man, and I hope I never see him again, either.

After a few moments, I climb back up the companionway. By the time I reach the deck on the dockside of the ship, Uncle Robert has the horses and wagon heading toward home in a great cloud of dust.

I hate you! I shout out loud, and I hope one day you will have to answer for all you have done!

I am sitting on my bunk in my tiny dungeon and wonder, What do I do now? I really know only one thing, and that is this ship is going to Boston. But I don’t know anybody who lives outside of Ireland. All I know is Wexford where my family comes from. Maybe if I go up on deck to get some fresh air I will be able to think more clearly. This cabin stinks like a moldy sock.

I climb back up to the main deck and search for a place to hide. I don’t want anyone to see me cry. There’s a ladder that leads to the back deck, and there’s a small crawl space behind those steps. If I squeeze behind that stairway, I’ll be out of the way, and people won’t be able to see me very well. So I crawl in and lean against the back wall. I am pleased with myself because this is an excellent hiding place. Matter of fact, it’s so good that nobody comes to my aid as I sit on deck and sob.

I just don’t understand why Uncle Robert hates me so much. What have I done to him? Oh, how I wish Mama and Da were here right now. I miss them so, so much. I look to the heavens, wishing I could feel comfort from Mama and Da. They had no choice when they left, but Uncle Robert intentionally abandoned me!

I slowly come out of my hiding place and limp up the stairway leading to the top deck as if I am an old man after my joints stiffened from squatting so long. I wander behind the little cabin at the stern. I squat down and dream about happier times back on the farm helping Mama and Da do chores.

Suddenly, I hear men shouting, so I quickly rise, but again my knees don’t want to work properly. I retrace my steps so I can see the entire main deck. Men scurry about. I rub my eyes as if I am wiping cobwebs away. I watch men climb the rigging to remove the ropes that hold the sails onto the spars.

The number of people on the dock has grown even larger; the crowd now fills most of the town square. It looks as if most of Wexford has come to see this ship set sail. Wexford rarely receives ships as large as this one.

Make ready to cast off! shouts a stocky sailor. Maybe he’s the captain. He looks as strong as an ox with his biceps bulging. This man seems to know what he’s doing. I figure it’s best to stay out of his way, so I stand to one side of the little cabin house, trying to be invisible. Beside me is a raised steering platform with a huge double wheel centered on it.

Here ya are. I’ve been looking all over for ya. Where ya been hidin’? the man with no teeth and dirty apron asks with a big grin.

He is the ugliest man I’ve ever seen. I smile and say, I was behind that little cabin, just thinking.

A new, tall, older man wearing a long, dark blue coat arrives on deck. He yells in a booming voice, Cookie!

Ya stay right here; that’s da captain. He wants me; now don’t ya move, ya hear? I’ll be right back, the toothless man slobbers. He then marches directly to the captain, who’s now standing beside the strong man while he continues to yell orders to the crew.

I can hear the captain ask Cookie, I understand we have a passenger on board?

Yes sir, Cookie answers, as he nods in my direction.

The captain turns and looks at me, but I am mostly hidden behind the cabin wall. He looks a bit young. Where are his parents?

Before Cookie can answer, the captain orders, Keep him out of the way. We’ve got to get this ship underway in order to make this tide.

Make ready to retrieve docking lines! the short, stocky man yells loudly through his megaphone. A kind-looking man climbs onto the raised platform beside me and takes hold of the lead wheel. He glances at me and gives me a kind smile and a wink.

The crew waits patiently to slack line, haul on halyards, and do all the other things they have to do to get this ship moving. The captain marches dockside to survey the situation as the first mate, the strong man, quickly descends the quarterdeck ladder onto the main deck. The captain strolls slowly back to the midpoint of the quarterdeck and says calmly, Mister Dalton, are we ready to set sail?

All hands are at their stations, and the crew is ready to get underway, sir!

Cast off bow lines! Slacken stern lines! the captain orders in a booming voice.

The first mate yells through his megaphone, Set fore topgallant! The small, topmost sail unrolls quickly on the mast nearest the bow, but nothing happens. The ship appears to be stuck in the water as the sail hangs limp as a rag.

I notice the deck crew has finished coiling the dock lines in the bow as other crewmen adjust the running lines laid out on the deck. Without warning, a sharp bang is heard high above. I jerk my head skyward. High above the topgallant sail is no longer hanging limp; it’s bulging and putting a tremendous strain on the ropes that hold it in place. It’s as if the wind wants to tear that sail right off the mast.

The first mate yells orders, instructing the deck crew to adjust this sail so it will pull with maximum efficiency.

Cast off bow line! the captain yells. Keep port stern line taut! Ever so slowly, the ship’s bow starts to swing away from the wharf.

Mister Dalton, the captain instructs, set all sails and cast off stern lines. Helm, head off wind, ten points; make for the outer marker.

Aye, Captain; ten points off wind and making for the outer marker, sir.

Within a hundred yards from the end of the wharf all sails are pulling hard. My hair starts to flutter in the breeze as the ship picks up speed. I look back at the dock as it grows smaller, and tears fill my eyes once again. A deep hurt creeps throughout my stomach and chest. I know I am going to Boston, but what will happen to me there I do not know.

Patrick, Cookie calls as the ship emerges from the mouth of Wexford’s harbor. I’ve been lookin’ all over for ya, boy; ya can’t keep hidin’ on me or I’ll get in trouble. Captain Hathaway and Mister Dalton, they want to meet ya, boy.

I don’t want to meet them, I solemnly answer.

Now, what’s the matter with ya boy? Ya can’t meet the captain lookin’ like this!

I give Cookie the foulest look I can muster and then turn away.

Cookie takes a piece of string out of his pocket and ties it around a small hand towel that’s tucked into his belt. Cookie then tosses the towel overboard, and as soon as it hits the water, he jerks the string so the towel flies back to him. He reached out and snaked the wet cloth out of the air.

Now, boy, let me see ya face, and Cookie wipes my eyes and cheeks clean of tears and removes all the streaks and smudges.

Ya look a whole lot better, now, boy. Let’s go see da captain. Cookie takes hold of my hand, just to make sure I don’t get lost along the way.

The captain and Mister Dalton are in deep conversation as Cookie and I approach.

Ah, here’s our paying pa---. The word passenger never gets out of the captain’s mouth.

Why, you’re just a young boy! Mister Dalton exclaims in shock.

How old are you son? Captain Hathaway asks in a soft, kind voice.

They see the fear in my eyes. My entire body shakes uncontrollably. I am expecting the worst to come my way. I am ten years old, sir, I whisper.

You’re ten years old, and you’re traveling all by yourself? Mister Dalton asks in disbelief.

Yes, sir, I answer as tears fill my eyes again.

Where are your parents? the captain asks, sternly looking down at me.

Tears now roll down my cheeks. They are both dead, sir.

The captain squats so he’s about eye level with me. Young man, I don’t know what’s going on, but I don’t like what I’m seeing or hearing. I want you to know one thing, and that is no harm will come to you as long as you’re on this ship. Do you understand? I am the law on this ship!

I nod as tears stream down my face.

Mister Dalton is my first mate and will become a captain; he will make sure that no harm will be done to you.

Yes, sir, I meekly answer.

The captain stares at me. Patrick, you will eat all your meals with me and Mister Dalton in my quarters. Mister Battle, or Cookie as we call him, will make sure you know where to go and at what time.

Yes, sir, I’d like that very much, I answer quietly.

Patrick, I have some quick rules I want you to follow, Mister Dalton says. First, do not go into the crew’s quarters; they are up there in the bow of the ship. Second, I don’t want you to climb any of the rigging—none at all.

Oh, I’d never do that. I would be too scared, I answer, looking up at the tall, rickety ladder on the masts.

And please do not talk with the crew. They all have their own jobs to do, and if you talk with them they will not be doing those jobs, and I will have to reprimand them; do you understand?

Yes, sir; I won’t talk with any of the crew.

If you need to ask questions you may ask me, Mister Dalton, or Cookie. Do you understand? the captain adds.

Yes, sir. I understand that everyone has a job to do, and I am not to interrupt them.

The captain gives a look of surprise to the first mate, and Mister Dalton gives the same look back to the captain.

The captain and Mister Dalton seem nice. At least they don’t yell at me or try to throw me overboard. I drift back to the ship’s far stern to analyze what has just taken place. Cookie is one ugly person, and he proves you have to clean your teeth regularly, or you will end up looking like him. I finally curl into a small ball on deck and fall fast asleep. I awake to the sound of Cookie’s voice.

Here ya are; I’ve been looking all over for ya again. It’s time for ya to go to da captain’s cabin and eat your meal. Now let me see your face. It looks as if you’ve been crying some more, lad. Cookie performs the same trick he did earlier and cleans up my face.

You know, Cookie, I do feel better after cleaning up. You remind me of my mother. And I smile.

Well, she was probably better lookin’ than me, Cookie grins.

Yes, that she was—a whole lot better looking, I laugh.

Oh now, ya hush up; now we be off to da captain’s cabin, and Cookie pushes me in front of him.

I comply with Cookie’s commands, and we enter the captain’s cabin. It’s huge compared to my tiny cabin deep in the bowels of the ship. The richly paneled dark oak cabin takes up the entire area under the aft deck. A row of small, leaded windows lines the far wall that forms the stern. Built-in bookcases are just under the windows. There are four dark oak, built-in bunks, two on each side of the cabin, each with four drawers built-in under each bunk. Built-in hanging lockers are at the end of each bunk and separate one bunk from the other. There are three smaller drawers at the bottom of each hanging locker. In the center of the cabin sits a huge, dark oak table with navigational charts scattered at one end. The evening meal has been served at the other end of the table.

In the center of the room a large brass oil lamp hangs from a sturdy chain that allows the lamp to swing with the motion of the ship, casting shadows that dance across the cabin. Between the dark overhead beams, the ceiling is painted a bright white.

The captain sits at the far end of the table. Upon seeing me he says, Good evening, lad. I hope you’re hungry.

Yes, sir; I am hungry.

Mister Dalton, smiling broadly, rises from his chair and say, Welcome, Patrick.

I take the only other vacant chair at the table and say thank you. I try to remember what Mama taught about proper table manners and to be as polite as possible.

Cookie, if you would do the honors, please, the captain says with a smile. Now Patrick, this is an excellent time to get to know each other a little better, don’t you agree?

I guess it will be all right, I answer timidly. I get the feeling the captain isn’t really asking. Cookie finishes serving the meal and then disappears, so it’s just the captain, Mister Dalton, and me sitting around one end of the huge table.

I trust, Patrick, it will be all right with you if we eat and talk during the meal, the captain says.

I guess that’s all right, but my parents taught me it’s terribly rude to talk with food in your mouth.

A smile crosses Mister Dalton’s face as he chuckles, From the mouths of babes.

Absolutely, and I cannot argue with that, the captain says with a huge grin. Patrick, may I ask you some personal questions?

I look down at my meal and then up at the captain. I then look over at Mister Dalton and give a long sigh. Yes, sir, I guess that will be all right, as I become glassy-eyed.

Will you please tell me about your parents; what type of people were they?

Mama taught me all sorts of things. She was the kindest person I have ever known. Da would say, ‘Your mother is the kindest person on the whole earth,’ and I think he was correct.

What can you tell us about your father? Mister Dalton asks.

Da was also a very kind person. He liked helping people. When Grand-Da passed away, my father inherited the main farm with all the buildings and all the animals as well as an ale- brewing business. Grand-Da left my Uncle Robert a smaller farm with a smaller house. Grand-Da told Uncle Robert, ‘When you get married you can put an addition on the house.’

Did your uncle and father get along well? the captain asks.

I don’t really know, but I did hear them argue on several occasions. Uncle didn’t think it was fair for Da to get the big house, the large farm, and the ale business.

Do you know why your grandfather gave what he did? Mister Dalton asks.

Not really. I know Da was oldest and was very hard working; I do know my Uncle Robert was upset because he got very drunk one time and came to the farm and yelled at Da, saying he cheated him out of his inheritance.

Did your father cheat your uncle? the captain asks.

No. Da never cheated anyone. I heard people say that Da was one of the most honest men they had ever known. I also heard people say that Uncle Robert was nothing more than a drunk!

Who made those remarks? the captain asks.

Our next door neighbor and three or four others who came to Mama’s and Da’s funeral. Captain, may I ask you a question? Why are you writing down everything I say?

I’m sorry; I should have asked for your permission, but as the captain of the Edith B, I may be required to provide certain information about you at a later date. I am making notes to keep my memory fresh; is that all right with you? the captain asks with a smile.

I don’t mind.

Can you tell me how your parents died? the captain asks gently.

They got sick; first Da and then Mama. I tended to them until Uncle Robert and Aunt Mary moved in.

Did they take care of your parents and you? Mister Dalton asks.

Yes and no. They took care of Mama and Da, but I was not allowed to see them. Uncle made me stay away from home. He wanted me to work for him from sunrise to sunset every day.

Did you? the captain asks.

I tried, but I could never do anything right, and he was drunk most of the time. Uncle is a very mean man, and he likes to hit people, especially me. He has no friends, and Aunt Mary is scared of him. Uncle Robert is not at all like my parents. He’s the exact opposite.

Cookie enters the cabin to collect the dirty dishes and asks, Did ya like the grub I made for ya?

It was very good, Cookie, thank you, the captain answers.

I got hot water if ya would like some tea. Patrick, do ya drink tea? Cookie asks.

I drank tea when my mother served it at home.

Cookie gives a big toothless smile that makes me shudder.

I’d love a cup with a shot of rum, Mister Dalton says.

Young man, you will have plain tea, no rum the captain jokes.

I don’t like any alcoholic drink.

Cookie, I’d love the same as Mister Dalton, the captain says.

I have the watch in about fifteen minutes, Mister Dalton says as he checks his time- piece.

Patrick, what do you know about this family who’s to meet you upon our arrival? Mister Dalton asks kindly.

Mister Dalton, I can’t answer that question. All I know is that a family named Green will meet me in Boston. I can tell you about Chief Magistrate Fitzwilliam and Mister Kelly, if you would like.

All right; who is Chief Magistrate Fitzwilliam? Describe him, the captain says.

Chief Magistrate Fitzwilliam was a friend of my father, and he wrote Da’s Last Will and Testament. He explained that I had inherited my parents’ farm, my father’s money, as well as his ale business.

Who’s this Mister Kelly? Mister Dalton asks.

Mister Kelly came to the house two nights ago.

What did he want? the captain asks with a concerned look.

Mister Kelly had a document he wanted me to sign.

Did you understand what the document was all about?

I didn’t understand it because of the legal words, but I thought the paper had something to do with property and land. I had never seen that man before he came to our house. I am certain my mother and father didn’t know the man.

The captain scratches his chin, looking at me with a beady eye.

When Mister Kelly asked me to sign my name, I added a middle initial that I don’t have, so really, I didn’t sign my name. I thought it might be a good idea.

Well, well, that was a clever move, the captain says with a grin.

I stare at my breakfast of beans, cornbread, and tea. I think I better eat. There’s nothing for me to do but stay out of the way. My mind wanders, and I wonder what Boston looks like. Is it a big city or a small town? Will I understand the people when they talk, or will they speak a strange language? Will Boston look like Ireland? Maybe the people live in the woods in log cabins and have to deal with wild Indians every day. I’ve heard stories about the savages in the New World, how they scalp people. Da told me it’s because the Indians are losing all their land. The white people just move in and take it. If the Indians try to stop them, the white people just kill the Indians as if the white people have a right to take land that does not belong to them. That’s not fair. That’s what Da said once at the dinner table. I wonder who will meet me in Boston. Uncle Robert said if I want to, I can return to Ireland, but I have to be over the sadness of losing my family. I don’t believe him.

That evening, as I enter the captain’s cabin for the evening meal, the captain and Mister Dalton are discussing the old days and sailing the Trade Routes. I hear names such as the Azores, Jamaica, the Bahamas, Savannah, London, New York, Baltimore, and Saint Petersburg. The talk means nothing to me, so I search the cabin for something that might be of interest. As I look at the end of the table, a large chart is laid out for anyone to see. It has small lead weights holding it in place. When the captain and Mister Dalton stop talking for a moment, I say, Captain, may I ask you a question?

You may ask me any question you like, Patrick.

Are we going to London?

No; why do you ask?

Well, you have that chart on the table and it says, ‘The Approaches to the Thames River,’ and London is on the Thames.

You can read that chart? Mister Dalton asks.

Yes, I know how to read.

Mister Dalton gets up from the table and goes to one of the bookshelves.

Where did you learn to read? the captain asks.

Mama taught me not only how to read but how to write and work mathematical problems, I state proudly.

Did your father know how to read and write? the captain asks.

Yes, sir; he and Mama would sit after dinner and read to each other. That is what Irish families do in the evening.

Mister Dalton returns to the table and says, So, you know how to read. Then read this. He hands me a small book. I take it as Mister Dalton points to the table of contents and orders, Read!

I carefully look at the words and then slowly negotiate my way around such terms as circumnavigation, latitude, longitude, expedition, dead tonnage, and gross tonnage. The captain and Mister Dalton stare at me in astonishment.

That is incredible. There are now three people on this ship who can read! Mister Dalton exclaims. For the first time in a long time, I beam with pride. My smile is so wide it could split my face in two. I then say, There must be more than three people who can read.

No, Patrick, there are only three people aboard who can read: you, me, and Mister Dalton; that’s all, the captain replies.

Your mother gave you the greatest of gifts. You have no idea how great this gift really is. Ninety-five percent of the people in all of Europe and in all of the New World do not know how to read or write. You are one of very few who can do that, Mister Dalton adds.

I swell with pride, and I know that Mama and Da are smiling down upon me. They’d be so proud.

The captain gets up from the table and crosses over to his bunk. He removes a book from a shelf.

Patrick, I would like you to take this book and read it.

I take the book and carefully hold it. I open the front cover and read the title page: The Anatomy of a Sea Going Ship.

You can try to find the various parts of this ship above the deck level. Below decks will be difficult because they’re all closed while we’re underway, the captain says.

I will read this book. Thank you very much for loaning it to me.

If you have any questions, you can always come to me, Mister Dalton, or Cookie, the captain says.

I think this book looks interesting; maybe I will learn about this ship.

CHAPTER TWO

Exploring

The weather has been perfect so far. The sky has been clear, and the temperature has been a warm seventy-five degrees. The Edith B plows her way through the water toward Boston, maintaining a steady twelve and a half knots. With the book in my hand, I try to figure where the various parts of the ship are. As I stand to one side at the far stern of the ship, I see a man sitting near the far end of the bowsprit. I then realize just how long this ship really is; that man looks noticeably smaller than he is. The captain did say the Edith B was over 200 feet long with a thirty-foot bowsprit.

I hear a hushed sound behind me say, Hey, you. I spin around, but nobody is there.

I then hear, Hey, I’m talking to you, the voice says again.

I go around the backside of the cabin and see a stocky boy with black, wavy hair that needs a good brushing.

Hey, I asked you a question. What ya doing back here? the boy asks with a look that says he just might beat the holy heck out of me.

I am exploring the ship, I answer, keeping my distance from this boy.

You ain’t going to find nothin’ in that book. You have to come to me if ya want to find somethin’. I know this ship better than the captain or the first mate do. What’s ya name, boy?

Patrick Tracy; what’s your name?

"Tommy Hanks and I can show you the entire ship, and nobody will know about it— that’s if ya