Franky Franklyn's Philadelphia Adventure

By Philip Brown

Franky Franklyn is at it again. He finds himself waking up in Philadelphia in the year 1776. What exploits will he find himself in this time? Who will he meet as he explores what life is like at the birth of America? Will Danny Divine make an appearance? It's all here in this second adventure as we travel back in History.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Mar 15, 2011
• ISBN: 9781456712709

Philip Brown

Dr Philip Brown is Sweetenburg Professor of polymer and textile engineering at Clemson University, USA

Book preview

Chapter One

Here We Go Again

It’s time to get up, Franky. The voice was so soft that it almost didn’t accomplish its task of waking him.

Franky rolled over toward the voice. Boy, his mattress felt hard this morning. His eyes never opened.

Franky, it’s time to get up. The voice was a bit louder and more forceful, yet still soothing.

Franky lay there, intending to ignore the voice. Maybe it was a dream. Maybe it was Mom trying to get him up for school. No, that couldn’t be. It was Saturday.

This time there was a firm knock on the door followed by a loud, Franky, it’s time to get up.

Not today mom, it’s Saturday. He moaned and tried to keep sleeping.

Franky, came another voice this time, more coarse and much more urgent. I am not ye mum, and what matter is there that it be Saturday? Ye are to labor each day except the Sabbath.

Franky’s eyes popped open. He was staring at the ceiling—a wooden slat ceiling with open rafters. He wasn’t at home. Where was he?

A loud knock sounded. The coarse voice nearly yelled, Franky, get up now or we are coming in to get ye.

Franky sat straight up in bed. He looked around and knew for certain he was not at home. Looking around quickly, he realized he wasn’t even in his own century anymore.

The room was small and open with only a few furnishings. The bed he laid in and a small table beside his bed with a candle in a holder with a ring handle for carrying no doubt. A black book which read Holy Bible on the cover lay next to the candle.

Oh no, here we go again! Franky said under his breath.

This had happened to Franky before. He found himself at the Battle of Gettysburg. He was a drummer boy with the 1st Minnesotans. His mind flashed back remembering how he Mrs. Abernathy had given him an a extra credit assignment because he was doing do badly in history. He was pretty mad about that and went home angry. He fell asleep and woke up in the army.

It had been quite an adventure and he was frightened and exhilarated all at the same time. He was there for a couple of days. When he finally fell asleep and woke up again at home he had all the information he needed to write his paper. He even got an A on the paper. What a great memory.

A loud crack brought him back to the present. Or was it the past? Boy, he just didn’t know.

Franky, we’re coming in.

He heard the handle rattle and looked to the door. It was rough and wooden with no paint. It had large black hinges, and the handle was a long black curved piece of a metal that looked like iron.

He watched as the door creaked open. He pulled the covers up to his chin and anticipated the worst. He was sure he was going to be put back in a Yankee uniform and have a drum and some drumsticks shoved at him again.

The door opened into his room slowly toward his side of the room. Franky craned his neck to see who was around the door. For a long moment, nothing happened.

Then suddenly, as if he’d been pushed into the room, a boy appeared. He was a little smaller than Franky and younger as well. His hair was light brown and long. Franky almost laughed—the boy’s hair was long enough to be pulled into a ponytail, which was held by a thin piece of brown leather.

He was wearing a long white shirt with kind of puffy sleeves. The shirt was tucked into a pair of brown pants which only went down to his knees. He wore dirty white stockings and plain black shoes.

The boy stared wide-eyed at Franky. Franky stared back, keeping his covers close to his chin as he sat on the bed.

Well? the coarse voice asked from behind the door.

The boy looked at the door. He looked back at Franky. Then he looked back at the door. Franky still could not see who was there.

Well, what? the boy asked in return.

Is he decent? Can we come in?

The boy continued to look at Franky, then his head slowly twisted toward the door.

Waxer, answer me. Is Franky decent?

Waxer turned to Franky with a question in his eyes as if to say, Are you decent? Franky nodded his head.

Yes, Molly, he be decent.

In rushed two girls. The second was holding on to the first and stood a bit behind her. The first one looked older than Waxer, maybe Franky’s age, maybe older. The other was about the same age as Waxer...maybe a little younger. It was hard to tell. He was used to seeing people that looked like him, and these kids didn’t look anything like anyone he had ever seen before. They were dressed so differently.

The girls were both in skirts that came down far, almost covering their feet. Simple black leather shoes poked out from beneath the edges of their skirts. The older one wore brown and the younger a pretty blue. They both had short-sleeved white blouses, and crisp white aprons covered their fronts. The skirts were kind of puffed out, and a petticoat peeked out from the bottom of each skirt. On their heads they wore little round cloth bonnets, like hats made from the same materials as their skirts but with lace on the edges. Both had blond hair. To Franky, it looked like they could be sisters.

At that instant, Franky remembered that they were girls, and they were in what he assumed was his bedroom. He quickly pulled the covers even tighter toward his neck as if to cover anything that shouldn’t be showing.

The older girl spoke first. Franky, ye don’t want to be late for work. Already ye are late to help us with the chores. I know ye are new to us and that it is hard to get used to the routine, but Mr. Butterbee will be angry with ye if ye are late, and he will take it out on all of us. Please remember that ye are not the only one here. Maggie does not want Mr. Butterbee angry with her. At the mention of the name, she guided the littler girl to her front and stood there with her hands on the girl’s shoulders.

I don’t want him mad at me either, Molly, began Waxer as he moved over closer to the girls. Remember how mad he was when I moved the candle and it slipped out of the holder and the wax spilled all over his apron? I thought he might explode like a powder keg.

They looked at each other for a long second, and then they all laughed.

It was so funny to see his red face, Molly said. It was all we could do to keep a straight face. Poor Mr. Butterbee. He worked for an hour to get the wax out of his apron.

The three giggled for a bit, and then Molly looked over to Franky. Ye going to be getting up then?

Yes, I will as soon as you leave my room so I can get dressed. Franky was a little anxious as to what was going on. He needed some time to figure this all out.

As they turned to leave, he thought to ask, Where is the bathroom?

They all stopped in their tracks and turned as one. He saw a large question mark on each face as he looked at them one