Chains Read Online Free

back for the money we cost her, fair and square. Ruth and me would stay together, and we’d stay here, close to Momma.
    Please, God, please, God.
    â€œLeave us,” Lockton said to Jenny. “And send your husband over.”
    Jenny ignored him. “It’ll take us a couple of days to get your money together,” she said to Mr. Robert. “We’ll give you free lodging in the meantime.”
    Mr. Robert’s eyes darted between the two bidders. Ruth yawned. I crossed my fingers behind my back.
Please, God, please, God, please, God, please.
    Madam Lockton flicked crumbs to the floor with her handkerchief. “Dear husband,” she said. “These girls are a bargain at double the price. With your permission, might we increase our offer twofold?”
    Lockton picked at his teeth. “As long as we can conclude this business quickly.”
    Madam stared at Jenny. “Can you top the offer?”
    Jenny wiped her hands on her apron, silent.
    â€œWell?” Madam Lockton demanded.
    Jenny shook her head. “I cannot pay more.” She bobbed a little curtsy. “My husband will tally your account.” She hurried for the kitchen door.
    Mr. Robert chuckled and reached for his pie. “Well, then. We had a little auction here, after all.”
    â€œSuch impudence is disturbing,” Lockton said. “This is why we need the King’s soldiers to return.” He pulled out a small sack and counted out the coins to pay for us. “I thank you, sir, for the meal and the transaction. You may deliver the girls to the
Hartshorn,
if you please. Come now, Anne.”
    Madam Lockton stood and the men stood with her. “Good day to you, sir.”
    â€œSafe voyage, ma’am,” Mr. Robert replied.
    As the Locktons made their way through the crowded room, Mr. Robert dropped the heavy coins into a worn velvet bag. The thudding sound they made as they fell to the bottom reminded me of clods of dirt raining down on a fresh coffin.
    Ruth put her arm around my waist and leaned against me.

Chapter IV

Monday, May 27–Wednesday, May 29, 1776
    WHAT A FINE AFFAIR IT WOULD BE IF WE COULD FLIT ACROSS THE ATLANTIC AS THEY SAY THE ANGELS DO FROM PLANET TO PLANET. –LETTER FROM JOHN ADAMS TO HIS WIFE, ABIGAIL
    It took two nights and two days for the
Hartshorn
to sail from Newport to the city of New York. Ruth and me were housed below the packet-boat’s deck with six sheep, a pen of hogs, three families from Scotland, and fifty casks of dried cod. At the far end of the hold were crates of goods stamped LOCKTON & FOOTE and casks of rum with the same marking.
    I spent most of the voyage bent double over a puke bucket, bringing up every scrap of food and swallow of brackish water I choked down. Ruth stood on a box looking out of a porthole, counting seagulls and waves in a whisper that could barely be heard over the creaking of the hull.
    The seas calmed late on the second night, and I was able to walk a bit. Ruth was sound asleep in our hammock, thumb in her mouth. The hatchway to the deck was open and tempting. I climbed up the ladder slowly. The few sailors on watch saw me but didn’t say a word.
    The fat moon lit the water like a lantern over a looking glass. A clean, cold breeze blew from the north, pushing the ship so fast across the sea we seemed to fly. I sat on a crate facing the back end of the ship and hugged my knees to my chest. A mist of salty spray hung in the air.
    The coastline of Rhode Island had long disappeared into darkness. I could not see where we came from or where we were going. Maybe the ship would spring a leak and sink. Maybe we would be blown off course and land in a country without New York or people who bought and sold children.
    Maybe the wind would blow us in circles until the end of our days.
    I wiped the mist from my face.
    Momma said that ghosts couldn’t move over water. That’s why kidnapped Africans got trapped in the Americas.