Into the Storm Read Online Free

Laurence hardly knew what to cover first, his eyes, his ears, or his mouth.
    Growing bolder, he began to roam. At the stern of the boat he found a room with a door partially ajar. Curious, he pulled the door open. Though he could see nothing, he smelled the distinct sweet smell of bread. It was strong enough to make his stomach growl.
    Feeling his way, Laurence entered the room and banged into something hard. Groping blindly, he felt what seemed to be stacks of small, light, and very hard squares of wood. Was it what he’d seen before? Wood blocks? He couldn’t tell. He picked one up and sniffed it. It was something breadlike. Once again his stomach growled. Laurence put the square to his mouth and tried to bite into it. It was as hard as a rock.
    Convinced that no matter how hard it was, he’d nonetheless found bread, Laurence took a few of the squares and continued wandering through the dark, eating — or tryingto — as he went. Bit by bit, the bread softened, until at last he was able to break off a piece. He felt something wiggle. It was a worm. Hastily he plucked it out. Though it made him queasy to eat, he was so hungry, he did anyway. The bread had a sour taste and gritty texture. He continued to eat, finding and throwing away two more worms before he gradually consumed an entire square. Having eased his hunger a trifle, he began to work on a second.
    The more he ate, the thirstier he became. Harking to the continual sound of water sloshing below his feet, he lay down and pushed his fingers between the planking. When his fingertips touched wetness, he pulled back his hand, eager to suck at the moisture. The smell proved so offensive he could not.
    His thirst now raged. Feeling desperate, he began to search for another source of water. Midships he came upon two great metal tanks very much taller than he was, as well as wider. He had no idea what they were. As he groped his way by, his hand drew across the surface of one. It was cool and wet. When he sniffed his fingers and sensed nothing bad, he licked the moisture off. The taste of water! Excited, he pressed both hands flat against one of the tanks, then hastened to lick more from them. He tried again along another part of the tank and licked the water off. He smiled, recalling his sister’s cat washing herself. Twenty minutes later his thirst was slaked.
    Continuing to explore, Laurence came upon a narrow ladder leading up into darkness near the stern of the ship. He wondered what would happen if he climbed it. But he thought of the searchers and refrained.
    As he stood there, he heard a high-pitched squeaking noise. It was different from the sound the ship timbers made. And it came from first one place, then another.
    Something ran over his foot.
    Involuntarily, Laurence screamed. The squeaking stopped abruptly. He knew then what the sound was. Rats.
    He decided he must find a permanent place to hide, somewhere he might sleep safe from men, and rats. First he made his way to the bow and located the crate in which Fred hadstowed him aboard. For a brief moment he thought of climbing back in. But the notion was repugnant. He wanted nothing more to do with that box, ever.
    He wandered back among the barrels. Though many of them were taller than he, Laurence tried now and again to lift a lid. Not one of them budged. He tried some crates too but with no better results.
    Returning to the barrels, he set about checking each one, row by row, avoiding those along the aisles. After a full hour he found one whose lid was open a crack — hardly wide enough for his fingers. He pulled, but it would not give.
    Counting barrels by rows until he reached the aisle, Laurence searched out a stick to pry the lid open. Again by counting he found his way back to the barrel, eased the stick into the crack, and pulled down. With a sudden pop, the lid flew off.
    Excited by his success, Laurence hauled himself up the barrel side and fished inside with his hands. What