themselves as Bill, Guy, and Adam. Noah noticed that they all had the same pale faces and fish-eyes as Captain Jones. The forecastle was clean and newly painted, with a faint hospital smell of carbolic.
An impish red-haired boy of about fifteen brings mugs of tea on a tray. 'I'm Jerry, the cabin boy. Anything you want, just let me know. It's a pleasure to serve you, gentlemen.'
Bill, Guy, and Adam wash down black pellets with the tea.
'What's that?' Brady asks.
'Oh, just something to keep out the cold.'
The boys are kept busy loading cargo supplies. Mr. Thomas gives instructions in a quiet voice. He seems easygoing and good-natured. But his eyes make Noah uneasy—they are cold as winter ice.
Pages from Noah Blake's diary:
Tuesday, Feb. 5, 1702: Today we sailed. Despite Captain Jones's slighting remarks about freshwater sailing, our experience on the lakes stands us in good stead. I notice that Guy, Bill, and Adam, though they are very thin and pale and sick-looking, are good seamen and seem immune to cold and fatigue.
An hour before sailing, a carriage pulled up at the wharf and two people got out and came on board. I could not see them clearly, for they were wearing furs with hoods, but I could tell that they were young and looked much alike. When the ship was clear of the harbor and on course, the cabin boy brought tea.
'Two passengers on board,' he told us.
'Have you seen them?'
'Aye, I carried their luggage to the cabin.'
'And what are they like?'
'More like leprechauns than humans. Green they are, green as shamrock.'
'Green?'
'Aye, with smooth greenish faces. Twins, one a boy and one a girl. And rich too. You can smell the money off them....'
Feb. 6, 1702: Neither the two passengers nor the captain has appeared on deck. Bert Hansen and myself have been given turns at the wheel. The food is good and plentiful and I have talked with the cook. His name is Charlie Lee. He is about twenty years old, half-black and half-Chinese. I'm thinking there is something between him and the cabin boy. We will dock in New York tomorrow.
Feb. 7, 1702: Too late to dock. We are riding at anchor. There is naught to be done, and after the evening meal we had a talk with Guy, Adam, and Bill. I have found out what it is that they take with their tea night and morning: opium. They have enough to last them the voyage.
'And should we need more, we have but to ask the Captain,' said Guy.
'Sure and he should be made of the stuff,' Sean Brady put in. 'Seeing his name is Opium Jones.'
It seems they have shipped with Captain Jones before. 'He pays double because he only wants certain type people on his ship.'
'And what type would that be?'
'Them as do the work, mind their own business, and keep their mouths shut to outsiders.'
Feb. 8, 1702: Today we docked in New York. Captain Jones appeared on deck and guided the ship into the harbor. I will say for him he knows his business when he chooses to mind it. A carriage was waiting at the pier and the two passengers got in and were driven away.
We were kept busy most of the day loading and unloading cargo under the supervision of Mr. Thomas. Captain Jones went ashore on business of some kind. In the late afternoon we were allowed ashore. There is more bustle here than in Boston and more ships, of course. We were immediately set upon by panderers extolling the beauty and sound condition of their whores. When we told them to be off and fuck their wares they showered us with insults from a safe distance.
