October, 1665
Amon finally has new boots. Well, if you can call leather and sheepskin tied together with fishermen’s rope “boots.” It is the best Cal and Cinn can do. But they keep Amon’s feet dry and warm. And they fit his feet.
Cal and Cinn get us wool blankets and warm socks. Amon, Clove, and I wash everything in wood ash in the creek behind the shack. Cinn reports that he has located a decent rowboat to steal. We even give Dodger a bath to ready him for our journey.
Today is the day we escape.
We walk to the docks early in the morning. October winds blow off the North Sea. There is a chill in the air. A light fog floats above the shoreline. As we walk toward the docks, I look around our City of London. It is muddy and dirty. It is also much different from the spring when it was full of people and carriages and animals here and there.
Now, the dead carts are pulled along the streets during the morning as well as in the evening to collect the dead.
Bring out your dead. Bring out your dead.
The dead cart workers call out as they slowly pull the heavy weight of their full wagons. I cannot wait to escape London. There is nothing left for us here except the Plague.
When we arrive at the docks, Cinn waves his hand for us to stop. There is a small crowd of fishermen holding their hats over their hearts. I wonder to myself, could it be a funeral for a fisherman or a sailor?
We walk closer but stand at a distance from the men. There, in the harbor, floats a tall ship. It has huge white sails the color of beaten egg whites.
“It’s a brig,” Cal says. “You can tell by the two masts and square rigging.”
“Is it navy or merchant?” Lem asks.
“Could be either,” Cal says.
“Why isn’t it coming in?” I wonder. Normally, tall ships sail in to dock at the docks. Then, they unload their cargo.
“Why does it not dock?” Cal asks a fisherman.
“Ghost ship,” he replies.
A chill runs up my back. An eerie silence comes over everyone.
“What do you mean by ghost ship?” Cal asks.
“Some of the lads,” say the fisherman, “sailed out to see if the ship was in trouble. Lo and behold, the entire crew on that ship, dead of the Plague.”
Amon takes Clove’s hand and walks her away. As always, he protects her. She should not see this. Cal, Cinn, Lem, and I step closer to hear more.
“The entire crew? Dead?”
“Ghosts one and all. The only living souls on that ship are the rats!”
“Heaven help us.”
“Should we sail out? Get the crew? Bury them?”
“You would be dead the moment you step aboard.”
“What about the ship’s stock?”
“That ship is cursed with the Plague. Cursed, I say.”
“Leave the ship to the ghosts and rats.”
Finally, an older fisherman raises his voice above all in the group.
“Rest their souls. One and all!” he shouts.
The other fisherman and sailors join him and repeat together three times:
“Rest their souls. One and all!
Rest their souls. One and all!
Rest their souls. One and all!”
They stand for a moment of silence, hats in their hands, heads bowed to the ground.
We look out to the great wooden ship bobbing on the waves out in the water. A rat scurries past our feet. Cinn kicks it away.
“Bloody rats!” he exclaims.
“I think we are better off walking to Cambridge,” Cal whispers to me.
“Agreed,” Cinn says.
“Agreed,” I whisper.
We walk over to Amon, Clove, and Dodger. Amon and Clove sit dangling their feet off the dock. Dodger sits on the other side of Amon. I squat down to eye level with Clove.
“We are going on an adventure!” I say to her.
“When?” she asks.
“Tomorrow. First light,” I reply.
“By boat?” she asks.
“No, not by boat. We are walking,” I say. She looks at me and then Amon.
“You can walk, Clove,” Amon promises. “And when you can’t, I will carry you.”
“Where are we going?” she asks.
“On an endless vacation where we will never have to return to London,” I say.
“Mother would have liked that very much!” she says, hugging me. Perhaps she remembers that day on the dock with Elizabeth when we watched the upper classes leave on endless vacations. I hug her.
“I will do my best to walk,” she promises.
“I know you will,” I say.
I stand and look at the boys.
“So, tomorrow?” I ask.
“We’ll need to rest up. We have a long walk ahead of us,” Cal says.
We all nod in agreement. Amon whistles for Dodger to come.
“C’mon, boys,” I shake us all from our thoughts. “Let’s get moving. We have to get to Isaac Newton’s house.”