Scattered Seeds Read Free Page B

pair.” He tipped his tricorn to Father as he side-eyed Henry. His fine garments mismatched his swarthy face.
    “Good day to ye, sir.” Father tried to brush past him.
    The man outmaneuvered him and blocked his way. He smiled, revealing a row of teeth resembling burnt houses.
    Father’s hands, always a reliable indicator of his mood, balled into fists. His knuckles turned white.
    “I mean ye no harm,” the man said.
    “Then get oot of our way.”
    The man held up his palms, and the frills at his wrists fell back over the cuffs of his coat. “Sir, I believe we are at odds. Allow me to apologize and start anew.” He swept his tricorn off his head and flourished it as he bowed. “I offer assistance to the men of Ulster.” He returned the hat to his head and scrutinized their clothes. “It is a sad day when a gentleman such as yourself—for I recognize a gentleman even when he is wrapped in tatters—is reduced to such a lowly station. These are perilous times, desperate times. Oh, the suffering of Ireland is beyond measure.”
    “By the looks of your coat and waistcoat, ye know naught of desperate times.”
    “Ah, but I do.” The man thrust a finger into the air. “I was once dressed in tatters myself.”
    “Save your words for the foolish, for I know what ye’re at.”
    The man narrowed his eyes. “Starve then!” He backed away.
    “Spirits,” Father muttered, charging past him. “Lowest of the low, taking advantage of the destitute by spiriting them away in the bellies of boats wi’ the promise of riches. He’ll earn naught on the likes of us.” He twisted around as they walked, and Henry noticed him inspecting the words painted on a window. “Caldwell & Son will nae get the likes of our business today.”
    They stopped at the Laughing Cow tavern, where tacked notices flapped like swans’ wings around the doorway. A rat scuttled past, hugging the building’s foundation until it slunk under the door of a storeroom.
    Father pointed to the sign above them. “They should have called it the Brown Rat.” He stepped toward the door to scan the notices.
    Henry pressed down one of the papers.
    WANTED: To go to the flourishing Province of Pennsylvania, as indentured or redemption servants, six healthy men that understand farming and husbandry business; they must be sober, and accustomed to labour. Likewise wanted, several carpenters, joiners, bricklayers, and all sorts of handicraft tradesmen, who will meet with good encouragement and kind treatment, by applying to Capt. Peter Smythe, at Mr. Hooper’s the blockmaker, on the quay, or to Mr. Richard Champton, Merchant, on Bishop Street.
    His father flattened a palm over a notice with ships sketched at its uppermost corners and read it aloud. “‘To sail the eighteenth of June next, for the flourishing city of Philadelphia, the well-known good ship Nancy , 400 tons, William Mitchell, Commander, only two years auld, built particularly for the passenger trade, has e’ery accommodation requisite for health and conveniency . . .’” He rubbed his temple and tapped the notice with his finger before reading the rest in pieces. “‘Large and roomy . . . Sails fast.’ Feels like that one’s trying too hard.”
    He pressed his hand against another fluttering notice and read it silently at first, then aloud. “This one is good, I think. ‘Bound for Philadelphia, The Charming Hannah , 250 tons, one of the best sailing vessels belonging to this kingdom. Archibald McElwain, Commander, will be clear to sail for the parts aforesaid by the nineteenth of June next. Any passengers, redemptionists, or servants that intend going on said voyage may apply to David Conyngham, merchant, or the said commander, who will agree with them on reasonable terms.’ Conyngham’s a Donegal man. It was his father’s grave we—”
    “Ye need not remind me,” Henry replied.
    Father let his hand slip from the notice. “Aye, that’s the one. That’s our boat. Seems only fair to