The King of Mulberry Street Read Online Free Page B

position, but I didn't flinch. My tongue felt fat against the roof of my mouth, but I didn't open my jaw. There were noises from the deck above as though hundreds of people were up there. And there were quiet sounds, too, now and then in the dark nearby. The labored breathing of a frightened person. Mamma. I wanted to call out to her. But I had promised not to.
    After a while, scraping sounds came from the deck below, then the whoosh of fire and the roar of the steam engine. I heard a clank and all light ceased.
    Only babies were afraid of the dark.
    A horn blasted over and over, and I felt the movement of the sea. We were going. Going to America.
    I waited in the dark. More than an hour, it had to be more. I waited in the heat that grew until I was drenched with sweat. Then I whispered, “Mamma.”

CHAPTER FOUR
Whispers
    “
Zitto
—quiet,” came a hot hiss of sour breath. A man's voice.
    I twisted my neck and peered into the dark. I couldn't see him, but someone was near. “Where's Mamma?”
    “Halfway back to hell by now,” came the raspy voice.
    Catholics talked that way—hell this and hell that. I got off the barrel and felt my way in the direction of the ladder, calling loudly, “Mamma.”
    “Stop,” said the man. “Come back and shut up. Someone might hear you.”
    Yes. “Mamma!” I pressed forward. I'd find her and we'd climb to the top deck and see America.
    Something caught my pants at the hip. I pulled and the cloth came free with a small rip.
    “They'll throw you overboard,” said the man.
    That stopped me. I swam good; I wouldn't drown, no matter how deep it was. But I didn't know which way America was. And what if they threw Mamma overboard, too? With her shawl on, she might sink.
    A long time passed, enough for my shoulders to ache from holding them tight and still. Think—use my head, like Mamma said. People couldn't just throw other people overboard. Weren't there laws against things like that? And even if there weren't, someone would have to have a terrible reason to do such a terrible thing.
    I slid my foot forward silently. My path was blocked. I pushed at crates. “Mamma.” I whispered as loud as I dared. “Mamma, Mamma.”
    “Don't doubt me, boy. We're too far from port to turn around. If they find us, we'll be food for the fish. There's no other way to get rid of us.”
    “Why would they want to get rid of us?” I said.
    “No one has pity on sick stowaways. We could infect the ship; then they wouldn't let anyone debark in America. They won't take that chance. I hear that if a sailor lets a sick guy on, they throw him overboard, too.”
    I wasn't sick. Neither was Mamma. We wouldn't get thrown overboard.
    I had to get away from this sick man. I tried to climb over the crates. Impossible.
    Mamma was nowhere near. Even if she hadn't overheard our conversation, she would have called out for me by now if she was down here. But she knew where I was. She'd come find me.
    “I shouldn't be a stowaway,” said the man in a tiredvoice. “I paid my passage. I was supposed to go to America in steerage, on a regular ship. It took years to earn the money.” He stopped talking. Too bad. At least his voice was a kind of company.
    The boat pitched and made my stomach lurch.
    The man groaned. “Leave it to me to pick up cholera, so they wouldn't take me, even with a ticket. But last night I heard people saying this cargo ship was heading to New York. I was practically crawling, but I snuck on.”
    I shook my head, though he couldn't see me in the dark. “New York? I thought we were going to America?”
    “New York is America, boy. Don't you know anything? New York is paradise. The opposite of your little hovel in Napoli. The opposite of where your mamma is.”
    “Mamma is here. On the boat.”
    “No, she's not. She stuck you here so you can go to America and make a life for yourself.”
    “Mamma's hiding. She's on the top deck.”
    “Are you crazy? No hiding places up there.”
    “Then