Nate stayed very still in his hiding place. His empty stomach churned with worry. Panicked thoughts spun around his brain. Would he ever see Theo and Eliza again? What if Eliza had to do all of Nate’s work now? How would she watch over Theo?

The rocking of the ship calmed him some. He listened to the familiar sounds — the swoosh, crack of the sails, the creak, creak of the wood, the twang of the sailors’ voices. Bright pictures filled up his mind, memories of visiting New York City with Papa. Some of their voyages had started from there. And Papa always left a day or two for them to explore before they set sail.

New York City wasn’t as big as Philadelphia, but it had twenty-five thousand people — twenty-five thousand! That was more people than Boston or Charleston. New York was dirty and smelly like every city Nate had ever visited. Garbage rotted in the alleys. Piles of horse dung steamed in the streets.

But Papa always said New York was the prettiest city in the colonies, and Nate agreed. The wide streets were lined with tall elm trees. Gardens were bursting with sweet-smelling flowers that almost covered up the garbage stink.

Nate loved the sidewalk puppet shows and jugglers who spun torches on the street corners. Papa would tip his cap at the ladies swishing by in their bright dresses.

Best of all was the food — suppers of juicy rabbit stew and gooey boiled puddings and buttery dumplings that slid down Nate’s throat. One restaurant was so fancy they actually gave Nate and Papa each a fork. A fork! Even most rich people like Storch ate with a knife and their fingers. But Nate and Papa figured out that strange new tool pretty quick.

Nate’s mind flashed with memories of Papa as the Valerie sailed down the twisting coastline of Connecticut and New York. He shut up his grumbling stomach by sneaking a few ears of corn.

The sun was high in the sky when they came to Manhattan — the island of New York. Most of the long and skinny island was wild land: rolling green hills and forests and marshes with a just a few orchards and farms. It looked so quiet and peaceful. It was hard for Nate to imagine that busy New York City was just a few miles down, on the island’s southern tip.

But slowly the city came into view. Nate spotted crooked rooftops, the wharves jutting into the river, and too many church steeples to count.

The Valerie sailed toward the bottom of the island and turned into one of the wharves. Nate didn’t bother waiting until the Valerie was completely stopped. The moment it was close to the dock, he sprang up. With a few steps and a leap he was off the boat. One of the Valerie’s sailors swore in surprise as Nate streaked past him. But Nate was gone before anyone could stop him.

He ran down the dock, zigzagging around baskets and barrels and coils of ropes. There were only a few dockworkers milling around, and no big merchant ships. That was a little strange; last time there were too many ships to count. The docks had been packed with sailors from all over the world, lugging crates and barrels and shouting out in languages he’d never heard before.

But Nate wasn’t worried. He’d probably come into a different wharf this time. It shouldn’t be hard to find where the merchant ships were docked.

A thrill rushed through him as he left the waterfront, his boots clicking against the city’s familiar cobblestone streets.

He’d made it!

But as he plunged into the city, his excitement drained away.

Why were some of the streets deserted?

Why were some of the streets blocked off by big dirt walls?

He saw no puppet shows, no ladies in swishing dresses, no fancy coaches clattering through the streets. Most of the stores were boarded up.

On one block the only people around were men — soldiers, Nate realized. He could tell they were American soldiers by their plain clothes. British soldiers were famous for their brass-buttoned red coats — that’s where the name “Redcoat” came from. They wore spiffy leather hats, bright white shirts, and belts with brass buckles.

American soldiers had no uniforms. Most of them wore cheap felt three-cornered hats and frontier shirts that tied at the collar. “Those rebel soldiers look like scarecrows,” Storch had said. Looking around, Nate thought Storch wasn’t far off. Most of the men wore dusty trousers and work shirts. Their weapons were beat-up muskets or rifles.

The deeper into the city Nate walked, the more soldiers he saw. Most were hard at work. At the end of the street, dozens of men were building another big dirt wall. Farther down Nate saw three men pulling a cart carrying a huge cannon.

What was happening here?

The hairs on the back of Nate’s neck prickled up. Nate suddenly remembered what Storch and Marston had been talking about yesterday as they ate their goose. Nate hadn’t been paying close attention. But now Storch’s words came back to him, as though he were right next to Nate, barking in his ear.

“The king sent hundreds of ships.”

“The big battle is coming any day.”

“Washington and his army of traitors will soon be crushed.”

Nate figured Storch and Marston had been talking about Boston. As far as he knew, that’s where most of the fighting had been.

But now Nate realized they must have been talking about New York City.

No wonder the docks had been mostly empty.

No wonder the streets were deserted.

There had to be thousands of soldiers here.

Most of the people living here must have left.

And that’s when Nate fully understood what he’d done.

He’d escaped from Storch.

And he’d landed smack in the middle of the war.