The Slave Dancer Read Online Free

“He’s not going to swim away. Give him his instrument and tell him where he is.”
    The old man hardly glanced at me, and there was no particular kindness in his voice. Purvis, who had taken a hard grip on my wrist, dropped it.
    â€œThank you,” I said, wishing I did not sound so timid.
    â€œDon’t waste your breath,” said the old man.
    â€œI told you you were going on a sea voyage,” said Purvis.
    â€œBut I must get home,” I cried. While he spoke, I had looked around me. I had no sense of the ship at all or how one should move on it or where there was a place to lie down, the thought of which made me groan out loud.
    â€œNow don’t give up heart, boy,” said Purvis. “You’ll get home. Claudius and I will see to that. But it won’t be for a bit.”
    â€œOh, when!” I shouted.
    â€œNot long at all,” said Claudius softly, trying to touch my head as I ducked away from him. “With luck, you’ll be back in four months.”
    My knees turned to pudding. “My mother will think I’m dead!” I cried, and ran wildly away from the three men only to collide with a wooden structure of some sort and knock myself to the deck where I curled up like a worm.
    I thought desperately of my mother and Betty in the room with that apricot brocade. I cursed the rich stuff and the lady who had ordered a gown from my mother, and the candles I had gotten from Aunt Agatha. I cursed myself for taking the longest way home.
    The old man bent over me. “You’ve run into my bench,” he said peevishly. “Get up now and behave yourself.”
    I got to my feet. “It’s my mother who’ll be heartbroken,” I said in a low voice, hoping to stir some feeling in him. “My father drowned long ago, and now she’s lost me.”
    Purvis grabbed my arm. “We’ve taken care of all that, boy!” he insisted. “Claudius and me spoke to your mother and explained we’d borrowed you for a while.”
    I knew he was lying. But I was afraid to show him that I knew for fear he’d wrap me up in that canvas again.
    â€œThe wind’s changing,” Purvis muttered.
    â€œIndeed, it’s not,” said the old man.
    â€œWhat do you know, Ned? You can’t tell whether you’re on land or sea anyhow!”
    â€œI don’t require to,” replied the old man sharply. Then he turned his attention back to me. “I don’t approve of it,” he said. “This taking of boys and men against their will. But I have nothing to do with it. We had got a boy, but he ran away in Charleston just before we sailed. Still, it isn’t my fault. I’m only a carpenter. You might as well settle yourself to what’s happened. The Captain will have what he will have no matter how he gets it.”
    â€œWho’s on the watch?” inquired Purvis as he pressed my fife into my hand.
    â€œSam Wick and Cooley,” answered Ned.
    â€œI know nothing about ships,” I ventured.
    â€œYou don’t need to, no more than Ned here. He does his carpentering, and can even do surgery if he feels like it. But he can’t tell a bowsprit from a topmast. You’ll only be doing what you’ve done before, playing your pipe.”
    â€œFor the Captain?” I asked.
    Purvis opened his mouth so wide he looked like an alligator, and shouted with laughter. “No, no. Not for the Captain, but for kings and princes and other such like trash. Why, we’ll have a ship full of royalty, won’t we, Ned?” he said.
    Misery made my head ache. I wandered away from Purvis and Ned not caring if they threw me in the water or hung me for a sail. They paid no attention to my departure but went back to quarreling about the wind.
    I couldn’t even feel a breeze. A gull like a puff of smoke flew across the bow. Everything except the dark smudge of shore was gray now, sky and water and dull