Chapter Ten
Duncan floated in his hammock on his grandfather’s ketch, rocking with the waves, listening in the night to the groan of stays and lines, smelling the sour stench of bilge water. He gazed up at a solitary star, then decided he was too tired to rise so rolled over to sleep some more. And found his hand on a man’s head.
He jerked upright, suddenly alert, his heart thumping. He was not in a boat, but in a box. The star was a nail hole in a top corner that dimly illuminated four black walls. The sounds he heard were of horse harnesses, the fetor that of unwashed men and urine. He recalled the black wagon he had seen behind the tavern. It had reminded him of a hearse and now to his horror he realized it had indeed been designed for human cargo. Townsend’s Store was where escaped s
