Jo Goodman Read Free

cursory glance. "There's not much to him," he said in flat tones.
    "He doesn't eat," the headmaster said. "At least not a lot. You won't find him terribly expensive to keep."
    "And not terribly difficult to heave over the side." His eyes narrowed on Mr. Cunnington and he jabbed a thick finger in the headmaster's direction. "More to the point, I figure the fish won't take him as bait. They're likely to throw him back. Now, what kind of bill of goods are you trying to sell me, Cunnington?" He placed particular emphasis on the first two syllables of the headmaster's name. "My ship sails in two hours and you told me you had someone I could use. What do you think I can do with this boy?"
    Mr. Cunnington bristled. He disliked the Yankee's boorish manner. "He's just as I promised."
    "He's sick. You didn't tell me he was sick." As if on cue Colin began to cough. Quincy glanced backward again, assessed the boy's sunken features, the shadows beneath his eyes, the hollow cheeks and pale lips, and asked bluntly, "Is he consumptive?"
    "It's a cold."
    Quincy walked over to Colin, raised the boy's chin, then demanded, "Is that true?"
    Colin thought he would be lifted off the floor by the finger under his chin but the large man's touch was surprisingly gentle. His lungs seemed to swell with the effort not to cough. "It's true, sir," he said. "No doctor's ever said as much."
    Quincy was quick to understand Colin's game. There was no lie in his words—the truth was that no doctor had ever examined him. "Do you want to come with me, boy?" Quincy asked. He kept his finger on Colin's pointed chin and took measure of the grit and willfulness he saw in the boy's eyes. "Well?"
    "It's Colin, sir," he said gravely. "My name's Colin Thorne, and yes, I want to go with you."
    "Knowin' full well that I'll pitch you over the rail of the Sea Dancer as soon as look after you?"
    In an effort to show strength where little existed, Colin held his thin body rigidly. "I'd like to take that risk, sir."
    Jack Quincy released Colin's chin. "How much for him?" he asked the headmaster.
    "Three pounds."
    "That's a fortune," Quincy growled.
    Colin grew suddenly afraid. What if Cunnington wouldn't negotiate and Quincy wouldn't pay? "If you wouldn't mind, sir," he said, interrupting, "I'd be honor-bound to give you recompense. With interest if you'd like."
    Quincy blinked. "My God, he talks like a bleedin' banker," he said, more to himself than either to Colin or Cunnington. "How old are you, boy?"
    "Ten," Colin said, crossing his fingers behind his back.
    "Twelve," Cunnington said at the same time.
    Jack Quincy grunted, believing neither. "Hell, it doesn't matter. I need the boy this trip." He opened his wool coat, reached for an inside pocket, and drew out three silver pieces. He manipulated one of the silver coins in and out between his fingers before he set them all on the headmaster's desk. "This is what I have. Suit yourself."
    Mr. Cunnington picked up the silver quickly. "Get your things, Colin, then wait for Mr. Quincy at the front gate."
    Colin hesitated, looking to Quincy for direction and approval, half afraid he might be set outside the gate with his bag and no one to take him away.
    Jack Quincy rubbed his mouth to hide his brief smile. Damned if there wasn't something about the cheeky little boy that he liked. "Go on with you, lad. I'm not leavin' without you."
    Colin looked for the truth in Jack Quincy's eyes, then he turned and walked out of the room, wearing his dignity like armor.
    Quincy watched him go. When he was certain Colin was out of earshot he turned to the headmaster. "So help me, Cunnington, if that boy dies before the Sea Dancer makes Boston, I'll come back and take you and this workhouse apart."
    "He'll arrive in Boston. After that..." His voice trailed off and he shrugged.
    "It doesn't matter after that."
    * * *
    The Sea Dancer left London three hours behind schedule. Half expecting that one or the other of the Cunningtons would change their