Follow The Sun
By Mike Poppe
Dedicated to family members, past, present, and future.
Copyright 2011 Mike Poppe
Smashwords Edition
When I had to say my last tearful goodbyes to my deceased mother, before reluctantly filling in her grave, I was but seventeen years old. Sean Eaton was my name, and I was too young for what faced me, but I had been left with no other options. After the last bit of dirt had been tossed onto her grave, I tossed the shovel aside, and looked over the tiny plot of land that had served as my family's farm for more years than I had been alive. Other than growing the beautiful flowers my mother had tended with constant attention, it was a poor excuse for a farm in any man's estimation. It was too small, and the ground too poor, to produce even enough to provide for our own family, much less provide anything to sell.
Katherine Eaton had been a beautiful woman with flaming red hair and emerald green eyes, respected all around county Kerry as a woman of great kindness. Years of battling a hopeless farm, worrying about her missing husband, and fearing for the future of her children, had taken it's toll. When my eight year old sister drowned in a nearby river, I saw the last remnants of my mother's spirit crumble in front of my eyes. A year later, I stood by her grave, now the only surviving member of this family.
As storm clouds gathered overhead, I looked down the road, my eyes straining in search of a miracle, hoping to see my father returning home to take charge. Face to face with a type of fear I'd never known before, I realized I must deal with the world's problems without benefit of a parent's guidance. A shiver ran down my back as cold raindrops began to fall from the darkening clouds. The shower soon turned into a downpour, with the chilling rain soaking me to the skin. Ignoring the discomfort, I refused to abandon my vigil, as hopeless as I knew it to be. At least an hour passed before I turned and looked once more upon mother's grave. A few minutes later, with both tears and raindrops rolling down my face, I walked to our cottage, now ready to accept the burden of my future.
My father was Patrick Eaton. When I was younger, he had fought in a couple of European armies. With the fighting skills he had learned in the wars, coupled with his agility and broad shoulders, he was a man capable of taking care of himself in any situation. He had learned to expect the unexpected, and did not count on always being able to be around to protect his family. As I grew older, my father spent many hours teaching me self defense, along with combat tactics and strategy. He had himself been forced to go into the world at an early age, and he wished me to be prepared in case the same fate should befall me.
Many was the time I had heard him say there was no future for our family in Ireland. With no other source of income than our little farm, there was no opportunity to rise above simply trying to avoid starvation. His belief was that somehow he must find a way to get the family to America. It was in the new lands that he believed we would have a chance for a better life. Unfortunately, the price of the trip across the Atlantic was out of range even for one of us, much less the entire family. By the time I turned thirteen, I had been doing a man's work for at least a year. It was then that my father decided he would sign on as a crew member on a ship going to America. Once there, he would set about finding a place where he could earn a living, and then return to Ireland and escort his entire family to their new home.
Four years had passed since that day in 1836, when our family had stood on the docks and watched his ship sail over the horizon. In all that time, only one letter, written not long after his arrival, had come from my father. In that letter, he said that he had arrived safely in America, and that while he did not yet have any definite plans, he was quite confident that his decision to come to this new land would prove to be a wise one. Unfortunately, that was the only word we ever received from him. While we refused to ever let hope die completely that he would someday return, we knew the chances were good that he was dead.
The next morning after having buried my mother, I emerged from the cottage with the acceptance that gone forever were the days of wishing father might return and take care of things. From this day forth, it would be up to me to deal with whatever difficulties life might present.
With no immediate family left to consider, it took less than an hour of tilling the land before I reached the same conclusion as my father. To remain here was to face a future without hope of a better life. Someday I hoped to marry and have a family of my own. I was now determined that any future family of mine would have an opportunity for a better life than I could ever offer them here.
Still, I could not simply pick up and leave. Even tho I had often daydreamed about America, I really knew very little about it. Truth was, I knew even less about what would be needed to get there. Plans would have to be made, and that meant asking questions of people who knew more than I.
With yesterday's storms replaced by a bright sunny sky, I left my farm and began the three mile walk to the coastal town of Ballyickeen. It was there that I hoped to begin finding answers to the questions that were budding in my mind. A few of my cousins lived in that town, and I hoped to spend a few hours with them before returning home. Little did I know that my decision to make this journey would alter my future in ways I never dreamed possible.
Nearing the outskirts of town, I took a few minutes to look down upon the ocean from the top of the cliffs. The waves crashing against the rocks below, and the seagulls diving into the surf were a grand sight that never failed to thrill me. Watching the ships coming and going, with their sails filled with wind, reminded me of the many times I had sat on these same cliffs and dreamed of traveling to new and exotic destinations all around the world. There were even times when I fancied myself commanding a Man O' War, boarding pirate ships and rescuing beautiful damsels in distress.
Entering the town, I saw an elderly man with a confused look on his face standing by the door of the newspaper office. The door opened, and out walked a large man, whose fine clothing suggested that he was a member of the nobility class. Nothing about the man's cold eyes or the harsh expression on his face suggested he was someone to approach for help, but the old man reached out and grabbed him by the arm.
"Sir, could you help me please? I'm a stranger in this area, and I need directions to the village of Dunquin."
The man in the expensive clothes tore his arm loose from the grip of the old man, and just as quickly backhanded him down onto the street.
"You imbecile! I am the Earl of Morrison, and not to be touched by rabble such as you. Lay your hand upon my person again, and I'll have you flogged in the town square!"
As the old man tried to get up, the Earl raised his walking stick to strike him again, but when he tried to deliver the blow, he found his wrist locked in place by my hand. The Earl was a man used to bullying by use of his position and his physical strength. However, I had been doing a man's work for years, and some said that my strength might match that of my father. All of the Earl's power as he tried to rip his arm free went for naught, for it was securely locked in my grip. When the nobleman then tried to punch me with his other hand, I instinctively stepped inside the punch and countered with my own blow to the Earl's stomach, knocking the wind from him.
As a crowd began to gather, I grabbed the old man, and led him down an alley as the Earl lay on the street, gasping for air. I didn't have to be told that I had found trouble, and a lot of it. By striking a member of nobility, I knew I had most likely signed my own death warrant. First I must get the elderly man to a place of safety. Then, a way must be found to get myself out of town and into hiding. Without a doubt, the Earl would have his men in pursuit very soon. Fortunately, my cousin Grady, five years my senior, lived just a few streets away. Maura, Grady's short redheaded wife, and her with a face full of freckles, answered the door. When she saw the look of trouble on my face, Maura quickly invited us inside. As we entered the simple but spotless living room, Grady rose to greet us.
"Come in Sean, come on in here."
"Cousin O'Mine, I have brought trouble to your door." Watching out the window, I quickly explained what had happened.
"Aye Sean, if ever a man brought himself trouble, it's you. The Earl of Morrison is an evil man, with not an ounce of forgiveness or understanding in his heart. You are welcome here, but I suspect his men will soon search every house in this town."
"Grady, you have a fine wife and a child on the way. I will not be putting them in harm's way. Can you get this gentleman out of town, and to the town of Dunquin, where hopefully he will never run across the Earl again? If so, I will make my own way to the cliffs and hide in the cave near the old ruins south of town. Do you remember it?"
Looking out the window checking for possible trouble, Grady answered, "Aye, I remember the cave well. I will take this fellow to our Priest. He looks with disfavor upon the Earl, and it will give the good priest a bit of joy to remove this man from his clutches. After it's dark, I'll bring you some food and whatever news I can. Now you best be going."
There's a time to talk, and a time to act, and this was a time to act. Without any more words, my hand grabbed a potato and a bit of bread, and out the back door I went. Down the alley, through a garden, then bending low, running behind a rock wall that ran to the edge of town. Two hundred yards it was from the end of the rock wall, to a path that led to a small river. I had only to follow that river until it reached the cliffs. From there the cave that would be my a hiding place was not far at all. Moving patiently, taking advantage of each piece of cover, I followed the river almost to the cliffs, then walked north until the landmark I was looking for came into view. Carefully working down the ledges, crawling over and around boulders, I treaded patiently on loose gravel, until I found the cave.
It was many years ago that my father had found this cave, and always it had remained a family secret. It was impossible to see from the top of the cliffs, and only someone aware of it's presence would ever see it from the sea. That said, only a fool would enter the cave without carefully checking to be sure it was not occupied. All the hiding spots were well known to me, so making sure the cave was indeed empty, was quickly done.
Until Grady came with current news of the situation, there wasn't much to do. This was no time for impatience. I appeased my hunger with the potato and bread brought from Grady's house. My thirst would have to wait until dark. Then it would be a climb back up to the top, and a short walk to a nearby church. The well in the church yard would quench my thirst. My father had said many times, "Rest and sleep when you can, for you never know when you may have to do without both for a very long time." With that in mind, I piled up several rocks in a dark spot just inside the cave entrance, so any intruder would knock them over and sound a warning. Then having done all I could for the moment, I went back into the darkest part of the cave and slept.
The sun had been down for a couple of hours when I heard Grady whispering to announce his arrival. He had brought food and candles, so we moved back around a bend in the cave where the light would not be seen by any passing ships. As I savored the grand taste of his wife's cooking, he brought me up to date on the situation with the Earl.
"Sean, it's a major bit of trouble you find yourself in lad. You must get far away from here and do it quickly. Normally most of the people around here would be eager to help someone in trouble with the authorities. This is a different kettle of fish. What you did to the Earl is something he will not be soon forgetting. His men are searching everywhere for you with orders to bring back your head. He has stated that he will post it in the town square as a reminder to anyone that might dare stand against him in the future. You have the sympathy of most of the people, but not a lot of good that will do you this time. The Earl has offered a very large reward to anyone that gives information against you. The people around here are poor Sean, very poor. The reward is more than these people could earn in several years. Other than family, there's nobody you dare trust." Sean saw Grady's lips curl in a smile.
"Actually, I'm not sure you can even trust me. That's a lot of money!"
"Well, my cousin, if I'm to be betrayed, better that money go to family than to a stranger."
That was said as a joke, and well he knew it. I knew full well that Grady would no more betray me than would I him.
"Your advice to leave this part of the country falls on welcome ears. In fact, as I've waited here today, my father's desire to move us to America has been on my mind. Perhaps fate has given me this chance to follow his dream. At any rate, that's what I'm going to do. I need to find a ship bound for America and somehow find a way to get on board."
"Sean, I had a feeling that might be what you had in mind. I work a few days on the docks loading ships when they need extra help. There is a ship at the dock now that will be leaving for Boston in the morning. It's called "The Emerald Breeze". Normally I could arrange for one of the watch standers to look the other way while you went aboard, but with the Earl's reward on everybody's mind, that's too risky. Tis a distraction to draw their attention away that you will be needing. That I can provide. From there, it will be up to you lad."
We agreed that a couple of hours after midnight would probably be the best chance to get on board undetected. As we waited for time to pass, we went over the plan, looking for things that could go wrong, and deciding how to handle them.
Finally, it was time to go. Shaking Grady's hand, I said, "My love to your beautiful wife, and you should know that I will never forget what you have done for me. When it will be, I don't know, but when I'm settled in America, I will write and let you know where I am, and how I have fared. If things turn out well, I will always have a place for you."
"Thanks Sean, but I'm afraid that America is not in my future. My wife's family is all around her, and while she would go if I insisted, it is a miserable woman she would be. So, good or bad, our future is here in Ireland. I look forward to reading your letter when the time comes. May the road ahead be kind to you Sean. Now let's be on our way while I still have the courage to do this thing."
An hour later I sat in the shadows in an alley with my eye on the young crewman standing watch on The Emerald Breeze. Suddenly a couple of hundred yards to his left, a storage building burst into flame, grabbing the guard's attention. Running for the lines that held the ship to the dock, I whispered a silent thanks to Grady, along with another "thank you" to my father for having taught me the art of rope climbing.
When I reached the deck of the ship, the guard's eyes were still focused on the fire. Moving quickly but silently, I spotted an open hatch and dropped feet first from the hatch cover. Fortunately, I landed on a pile of large sacks that probably contained beans or some other sort of food. If this compartment contained the food supplies, at least I would not go hungry as I tried to avoid detection by the crew. In my estimation, a full day of avoiding capture would be needed to keep from being returned to the authorities in Ireland.
To be sure, more than a little luck helped me to dodge a couple of close calls as I managed to stay hidden for two days at sea before being caught. When brought before the Captain and asked for my name, I responded, "O'Hara. Will O'Hara". If this ship, or any of the crew were going to return to this area, I did not want them using my name in any talk about town, and possibly giving the Earl a clue as to where I might have gone.
As I had anticipated, the Captain was not a man to waste four days of sailing just to return a stow-a-way. Instead, I was conscripted into the crew, and would pay for my voyage with the sweat of my brow. At first I was excited about finally getting to live the dream of serving on a sailing ship. A few bouts of sea sickness, several meals of bad food, some of it spoiled, and the stench below decks, took the luster off my dream. Leaning over the stern, sending my supper into the sea, I vowed never to set foot on an ocean going ship again.
One morning a sailor named Todd Montgomery was found missing at muster. A search of the ship found him in his bed asleep. Brought up on deck before Captain Burke, Montgomery was asked why he failed to make muster. "I've been sick with fever sir, and overslept."
It appeared to me, that the Captain was eagerly using this opportunity to send a message to the crew, among which were many who had not served under him before.
"You failed to report to the Ship's Doctor, therefore you must not have been very sick. On my ship there is no acceptable excuse for missing muster."
Turning to the First Mate, he issued an order.
"Tie him to the mast and administer twenty lashes. Perhaps then he, and everyone on this crew, will understand that my rules are to be followed without exception."
As the First Mate started to lead Montgomery to his punishment, it became obvious that nobody was going to speak on his behalf. Then, I heard a voice saying, "Captain, may I speak sir?"
Much to my surprise, that voice was my own.
"What is it you wish to say O'Hara?"
"Captain, begging your pardon sir, but anyone can see that this man is burning up with fever. If you must whip him, at least let him get over this sickness first. Twenty lashes in his condition could be the death of him."
Staring coldly into my eyes, the Captain responded.
"Perhaps. Still, your presence gives us an extra crew member, so if he dies, you are his replacement."
With Montgomery collapsed at the feet of the First Mate, and the crew holding their collective breaths, the Captain remained silent for several minutes, then spoke to me.
"O'Hara, just how concerned are you for this man's welfare? Are you just talking, or are you prepared to take his punishment for him?"
"Captain, my parents did not raise me to be a fool. Not for a minute do I want to take his punishment. Still, if that be the only way to save him from a pointless death, then so be it."
With a smug smile on his face, Captain Burke replied.
"First Mate, take Mr. O'Hara to the mast and give him the twenty lashes in place of Montgomery. When those are given, then give him an additional ten lashes for interfering in the Captain's business."
After my shirt was torn off, I was tied to the mast. With the Captain, officers and crew watching, the lashes began ripping the skin from my back. Never had I known such a degree of pain. The only thing that kept me from crying out, was my determination to refuse to show any sign of suffering in front of the Captain. The last five lashes I never felt, for I had passed out after the twenty fifth. But much to the Captain's displeasure, not a word or sound had escaped my lips before I fell unconscious. I had locked my jaws in silence, prepared to die before giving him the satisfaction of watching me show any sign of suffering.
The Ship's Doctor allowed me to recover in my bunk for the remainder of the day. The next morning, it took two tries, but I managed to climb the ladder to attend muster. There we were given word that we were sailing into a very bad storm.
One look at the huge storm clouds coming our way was all anyone needed to know that we were in for a very bad time. The winds had picked up and were beginning to roar. The ocean swells were getting bigger almost by the minute. Seeing the First Mate rushing by, I asked, "What should I do?"
"The deck of a ship is no place for amateurs in a Hurricane. You will just be in the way. Get below and see if you can be of some help there."
The wisdom of the First Mate's words was more than apparent when we sailed into the storm. Even for those below decks, it was very difficult to maintain our footing.. Had I been above decks, especially in my condition, I would have almost certainly have been swept away and lost in the sea. Time after time, I halfway expected the ship to roll over and sink. It seemed impossible that the hull could continue to withstand the pounding it was taking from these gigantic waves. Still a couple of the older crew said that altho this ship was old, it was well made by men who knew their business. They also said that while Captain Burke was not well liked, his ship handling skills were respected by even those that hated him.
The worst bout of sea sickness I had yet suffered soon reduced me to a state in which I was helpless. When the storm finally passed, three men had been swept over the side, and much damage had been done to the rigging. All hands turned to, making needed repairs, as word passed around the ship that Boston was but a couple of days away.
On the second morning after the storm passed, the Emerald Breeze sailed outside the Boston harbor as the Captain waited for the fog to lift. Anxious to see this land called America, I strained my eyes, hoping to catch a glance, but the fog was just too thick. Pushing aside my frustration, I went below to take care of a couple of things.
While cleaning out one of the compartments, Todd Montgomery came over and motioned for me to follow him into the cargo hold. Once there, Montgomery closed the hatch.
"O'Hara, I've no reason to love the Irish, for my grandfather was killed fighting in your country. However, I cannot forget what you did for me. Had you not taken my punishment, I would most likely be dead and on the bottom of the Atlantic today. Perhaps what I am about to tell you will pay some of the debt I owe. Last night as I was standing watch, I heard the Captain tell the First Mate that you were not to be allowed to leave the ship. When we drop anchor, you are to be put in chains until the ship returns to Ireland. Captain Burke believes you fled Ireland for a reason, and that there may be a reward offered for your capture. If so, he intends to have it"
Reaching into a barrel, Montgomery pulled up a shirt in which were wrapped a spare set of clothes, and a little food. "Take this, and at your first opportunity, swim for land, or you will probably never see it again."
Shaking his hand, I said, "I cannot thank you enough. If you owed me a debt, it has just been repaid. If I were returned to Ireland, it would mean my death. Thank you. Now be off... You must not be seen talking to me. If the Captain heard about it, things might go badly for you."
Montgomery flashed a smile, then turned and dashed out of sight.
Grabbing the small sack of belongings, I took it to a hiding place where I could grab it quickly when the time came to leave the ship. After that, I returned to my normal duties so as not to draw suspicion from the Captain or the First Mate.
Two hours later, the fog was beginning to lift, and the Captain ordered the ship into the entrance of the harbor. Taking advantage of the sudden rush of activity, I went and grabbed the hidden bag and positioned myself near the spot where I intended to leave the ship. As the Emerald Breeze drew nearer the ships in the harbor, a point of land on the port side was beginning to become visible. With no hesitation, I slipped over the side, and began swimming toward the nearest point of land.
Taking into account the number of ships in the harbor, and the fog that continued to hang low to the water, I had anticipated that the Captain would not dare spare any of the crew to chase after me. He did however send a couple of sharpshooters into the rigging to try and kill me. Fortunately, by the time they climbed to their stations in the rigging, the ship had moved further inland, and I had put considerable distance between the Emerald Breeze and myself. Their bullets struck the water close by, but I was not touched. By the time the sharpshooters reloaded, it was impossible for them to find me in the remaining fog. My guess was that Captain Burke ordered them back down, and then turned his attention to dealing with the fog and the crowded harbor.
When I reached the rocks on the point, I lay exhausted but hidden, between some of the larger rocks for a few minutes. When my breath began to return to normal, I worked my way between the rocks and then moved into the thickest cover readily available. From there, I saw the Emerald Breeze finally drop anchor.
From this moment until the ship started on it's return trip to Ireland, I would have to be on guard every moment. Not every crew member would be needed for the unloading of the cargo. That left the possibility that Captain Burke might at any minute send a search party out. If so, this point would be the first place they checked. With that in mind, I started crawling further inland.
Finding a thick grove of large trees to provide cover, I decided to rest and take stock of my situation. As I saw it, my escape from the ship was just the beginning. It was a strange country, with unfamiliar customs, that I now found myself in. A land where I could not count on help from anyone. My pockets were empty of money. My only possessions were a spare change of clothes and a bit of food that would be gone today. Obviously a job must be had, but that would have to wait until Captain Burke and his men were well out at sea on their return voyage.
I suppose I must have been exhausted, for I slept all night. Morning brought both an early morning chill, and the sound of voices in the distance. Climbing up into one of the trees, I saw a boat from the Emerald Breeze beached on the shore. Six crew men there were, each armed with rifles as they moved carefully into the brush. Returning to the ground I started moving further inland. Unable to move quickly in this thick and unfamiliar country, I crawled into the thickest cover around. There I lay face down and motionless as the search party drew near. With my heart pounding so loudly that I half expected the searchers to hear it, the members of the search party passed close by me on both sides. Taking no chance that they might have left a sentry as they moved further inland, I continued to lay still for at least an hour.
After I was sure nobody had been left behind, I slowly worked my way back to the thick grove of trees. Climbing up into the tree again, I was happy to see the search party rowing their boat back to their ship. Not until the search party was completely back on board the Emerald Breeze, did I slip back down to the ground.
Hunger was gnawing at my stomach. The bit of food brought from the ship had been devoured last night. Deciding to go in search of some berries or other wild fruit, I made a circular search of the nearby area. Just as I was about to turn back, the the sound of rushing water came to my ears. A short search produced a small stream running down from a hillside, on it's way to the ocean. It took only a minute to locate a likely fallen tree branch, and using the small knife I brought from the ship, that limb slowly became a crude but useable spear. As a child, my father had taught me how to spear fish, and it only took a few minutes before a fairly large fish was pulled from the water. The fish was of a type that I was unfamiliar with, but it would provide a decent meal.
Searching along the banks of the stream, I soon found a small flint rock and stuck it, along with a couple of other rocks into my pocket. Gathering bits of dry grass, tree bark, twigs, and other dry tinder, I worked my way back to the sheltered site. There it took only a few minutes to use the flint rock to send a few sparks into the tinder and get a small fire going. I had taken pains to choose a position where any smoke from the small fire would be filtered among the thick tree leaves, preventing it from being seen from the ship. The fish proved to be quite tasty, altho I would have loved a potato to go along with it.
With my hunger satisfied, I sat down to think about my next move. My first instinct had been to move to another location in the hopes of finding a better hiding spot. It only took a minute of consideration to abandon that notion. If the Captain sent another search party, it was quite doubtful they would waste time with this area again. It seemed far more likely that they would search elsewhere. The most prudent course of action seemed to be to stay right here until Captain Burke was back on the high seas. As it turned out, it didn't make any difference, for no more search parties were sent ashore.
Two days later, with the sun having been up no more than a couple of hours, the Emerald Breeze pulled anchor, and raised sail. When the ship finally left the harbor and sailed out of sight, it was a strange mixture of emotions that confronted me. Certainly I was relieved to be rid of Captain Burke, but the departure of the Emerald Breeze had left me in a strange land, with neither friend or enemy to consider.
Staring thru the bars of my jail cell, I muttered to myself, "Sean I'm thinking it's time for a better plan "
Having been in Boston for only three weeks, I was not unhappy with how things had progressed up until this point. In good weather, a secluded spot just outside the city served well for sleeping. When foul weather appeared likely, a night in a stable, or hayloft, could often be had, even if on occasion it had to be an uninvited stay. To be sure, there had been a few missed meals, but hunger had not been a stranger at times in Ireland either. Between the fish caught off the docks, and a meal earned now and then cutting firewood or sweeping floors, I had managed to eat well enough. Of course, it was one of those sweeping jobs that led to my present incarceration.
Regardless of what I was doing as I moved around the city, my ears were focused on listening to conversations of nearby people. Several times there had been mention of an Irish Pub called "Cohen's Pub" located a dozen streets west of the docks. One morning I cleaned up as much as possible, and found my way to Cohens. An inquiry directed to an old man sitting by the door resulted in my approaching the thin man with the large mustache behind the bar. As I was to discover, this turned out to be Cohen himself.
Approaching the bar, I caught Cohen's eye.
"Excuse me sir. Might you be Mr. Cohen, the owner of this fine establishment? My name is Sean Eaton, fresh from Ireland. The last of my family, I've arrived without money or possessions. I'll be having you know that I ask for no sympathy, nor a handout, just an opportunity to work and earn a meal or two."
Cohen looked me up and down.
"Well, it's for sure you have the look of an Irish lad down on his luck. I've seen more than my share." Cohen paused to draw a beer for a customer, put the money in a till, then returned to face me.
"Chances are I'll regret this, but I didn't look any better than you when I first came to this country. I arrived with nothing also, so I'll do what I can. I can't offer you money, but if you are willing to sweep out the building, I will provide you with a meal each day in return. If that suits you, come back around six this evening, and I'll see what you can do." Do a good job and you will eat well. Do a poor job, and I'll throw you out onto the street, and let you fend for yourself."
"Yes sir! I will be here. That you can count on."
Quickly I turned and ran out the door to tell...... My feet had barely touched the street outside when I remembered there was nobody to tell about this bit of good fortune. Well, that would change in time, and this was a start.
It was an hour before the scheduled time to begin work when I arrived and began cleaning tables, washing glasses, and doing anything else that needed done. When there was nothing left to do, I grabbed a broom and began sweeping the floor. Just as I was almost finished, Mr. Cohen called my name. When I turned to answer, my elbow bumped the arm of a customer, causing him to spill his beer on his shirt.
The customer, a sour looking fellow, threw the half empty glass against the wall, and when he began cursing loudly, it ignited a round of laughter among the other customers. As I was to learn, Ben Ruppert was known by most everyone in Boston as a man of great wealth and power. He was also a man that would not tolerate being laughed at. Turning to Cohen, he screamed, "I want this wretched boy fired, and I mean NOW!"
My attempt to apologize fell on deaf ears. Cohen came from around the bar and gave Mr. Ruppert a dry bar towel.
"Mr. Ruppert, I'm terribly sorry. The poor lad just arrived in this country, and was simply trying to earn an honest meal by sweeping out. He meant no harm, I assure you. Tell you what, if you will forget this mistake, your drinks, and meal will be on the house this evening."
Turning the other cheek, and forgiveness did not seem to be in Ben Ruppert's character makeup. Shoving people out of his way, he stormed out the door and walked to the jail several streets to the east. As I was told later, Ruppert was still fuming when he arrived at the jail. There he confronted the Constable who had been enjoying a peaceful evening on the front porch. Ruppert demanded that he go to Cohen's and arrest me on charges of vagrancy if nothing else could be found. The Constable didn't like anything about Ben Ruppert, and did not believe for a minute that I deserved to be arrested. Each attempt to change his mind, only served to infuriate Ruppert even more. As much as he didn't want to make this arrest, the law officer was well aware that it was Ruppert's money and influence that put him in this job. With a snap of his fingers, he could have him removed. Faced with a wife and three kids to feed, he gave in to the inevitable, put on his hat and came after me. Fifteen minutes later, I, Sean Eaton, having been in America only some three weeks, began receiving room and board, compliments of the city of Boston.
When the morning of my court appearance arrived, I was enjoying the fine breakfast the Constable had brought from the place across the street. A few minutes after the constable went over to check the court house, deputy Sims, walked over to my cell.
"Sean, do you understand what is about to happen lad? You have no chance at all. The judge is owned by Ben Ruppert. You will be found guilty and given whatever punishment Ruppert has picked. It's a sad situation to be sure. I wish I could do something for you, but I cannot."
Finishing my coffee, I gave thought to the Deputy's warning, then shook his hand.
"Give the fine Constable my thanks for the breakfast, and you deputy Sims have my thanks for your warning. However, if as you say, my fate is already determined, I suppose I can only deal with it as best I can. One way or the other, it will work out. The funny thing about all this, is that it was my hunger that ended up putting me in this jail. Now, after being arrested, I've been getting three fine meals a day for the first time in a very long time."
As I walked over and looked out the window of the jail cell, I could not help but wonder what my folks would think if they could see me now. Certainly they would not be happy, but I was sure that if they knew the circumstances, they would think no less of their only son.
The time came for the Constable and deputy to escort me to the courthouse. Most of the people we saw along the way only knew that I was a prisoner, and probably assumed the worst. To be sure, I was not happy about that, but I couldn't do anything about it. As we walked up the stairs to the court house, Mr. Cohen stepped forward and shook my hand.
"Sean, I'd wish you luck, but I'm afraid that's all settled already. When your sentence is served, come and see me, and I'll do what I can to help get you a good start."
There was only time to say a quick thank you, before I was pushed on into the court. Ben Ruppert was sitting on the front row, directly in front of the judge's chair, pretty much confirming the deputy's warning. When the trial was called to order, the charges were read, including Vagrancy, Disturbing the Peace, and Inciting a Riot. When the judge asked for my plea, I ignored the advice of my court appointed attorney, and answered, "Not Guilty."
The prosecutor then called me to the stand for questioning. After answering a half dozen questions, I was sent back to my chair.
Ben Ruppert was then called to testify and gave a version of that night that was at best distorted, and at worst, the biggest lie ever heard outside of an Irish Pub. His testimony was supported by three "witnesses" that I did not recall even being in the tavern that night.
The attorney that had been assigned to me never said a word.
The judge then called a ten minute recess before rendering his verdict. I assumed this recess was simply a bit of court room theater.
Back in the courtroom, I stood before the judge. Looking down from his chair, the judge had a bit of a pompous smile as he gave his verdict.
"Sean Eaton, you have been found guilty on all charges. Do you have anything to say before I render a sentence?"
"No, there is no room for the truth in this court."
"There will be plenty of time for you to consider your ill advised words as you serve your sentence. You are to serve one year's Indentured Service to Ben Ruppert. If at the end of that year, Mr. Ruppert is satisfied that you have learned your lesson and are prepared to be a good citizen, you will be a free man. If however, Mr. Ruppert feels you are in need of further confinement you will serve another year. The same situation will apply the next year, and the next, until such time as the court is satisfied that you have earned your freedom."
If the judge expected to see a reaction from me as a result of his verdict, Captain Burke could have told him that he was wasting his time. My eyes met those of the judge, and never flinched.
As the Constable started to lead me outside, Ruppert stepped forward, but I pretended to not even see seen him. My father's words, given to me as a youngster, were running thru my mind.
"Sean often you cannot control what people do to you, but you can control how you react to it. As long as you remain in control of yourself, you are never defeated. Never forget that."
The sun was high in the sky as I was taken down the stairs and then marched to the livery stable. There I was to be put in a wagon and transported to Ruppert's farm. As we walked to the livery, an escape plan was already taking shape in my mind. Ben Ruppert was smiling today, but I was determined that before this was over, the poor kid from Ireland would have the biggest laugh.
All during the ride to Ruppert's farm, my eyes took in as much of the surrounding countryside as possible. The more I knew about the lay of the land, the more effective an escape plan would be. After the Constable turned me over to the guards at the farm, I was immediately locked in some sort of shed with no windows. It didn't take long to figure out that I was going to be left in this shed for some time. Two meals a day, and sad meals they were indeed, were all I received. As I thought on it, it seemed likely that this solitary confinement was designed to break me mentally before I moved to new quarters when it was time to put me to work. If only Ruppert could have seen the smile on my face in the darkness. After all I had endured, they were sadly mistaken if they believed this was going to break my spirit.
A week later, the door to the shed was unlocked and pulled open.
"Come on, step outside and be careful how you do it," ordered a large bearded man carrying a very large club. He was accompanied by three additional guards, all carrying rifles. They loaded me into a wagon and took me on a tour of Ruppert's farm.
The tour was apparently designed to impress prisoners with the dangers involved in trying to escape. Taken from one place to another, I was repeatedly shown workers whose backs bore the scars of whippings, or from beatings with sticks. To further drive home their point, they took me to a far corner of the very large farm. There I saw a dozen grave sites said to belong to men who had attempted escape one than once.
Judging from what I had observed, coupled with a few things overhead from the guard's conversations, it seemed obvious that Ruppert had been using his power and influence for some time to supply him with free labor for his very large farm. In my case, Ruppert's primary interest was probably in breaking my spirit. The free labor was just a bonus.
The next move was to new quarters, a small shed not unlike the previous one. Early the next morning the guard brought what served as a breakfast. After that came my assignment to work in the fields as the guards kept watch. Tilling the fields was work I had done all my life, and it served to keep me fit. The hours were long, and the sun beat down relentlessly, but I made it a point to make my guards believe I was enjoying the chance to work.
As the weeks passed I worked to ensure that the guards continued to see an attitude of complete acceptance and submission. As a result, the number of my guards was gradually reduced until finally only one guard at a time was assigned to watch me. As I continued to portray myself as a mentally defeated man, the guards who rotated shifts became more and more complacent. Often the guard would find some shade and take a nap while I worked. While I did not try to escape as he napped, I did sometimes use that time to prepare for escape at a later time.
Talking with other prisoners while my guard napped, I was able to accumulate sometimes by barter, often as a gift, a few items I would need when I left. A torn but patchable rain slicker from the widow Taggert, an old but serviceable knife from a passing peddler, and an abandoned backpack found under some hay in the tool shed, were all carefully hidden away for the day they would be needed.
Taking care not to cause speculation among the other prisoners, I never took more than one item from any one person. Since not everybody could be trusted, I trusted none of them. Some of the prisoners would trade information with the guards in order to get better treatment. Others were simply people that talked too much without ill intent, but told everything they knew.
Working in the fields, often without another prisoner around, allowed plenty of time to consider what lay ahead. Escape must come in the near future. Autumn was almost upon us, and many miles would have to be put behind me in order to make good my escape. Time must be allotted to find a place to sit out the coming winter for which I was ill prepared.
If I wondered if Ben Ruppert had forgotten about me, my answer was not long in coming. Every couple of weeks, I would be awakened during the night, accused of some trumped up crime, then be beaten by a couple of guards. The beatings were painful, but never disabling. They were well aware that I was doing the work of any two other prisoners, and were not going to do anything to keep that from continuing, unless of course, Ruppert decided otherwise.
Finally! For a week now, I had been ready to make my escape, but the weather had failed to cooperate. When a large rain storm blew in off the ocean, I knew the time had come to go. While the storm would make for difficult and miserable traveling, the advantages it offered were significant. By leaving after dark, my hope was to be far away before my shed would be found empty, and pursuit could begin. The rain would help mask any noise, and in a driving downpour, the chances of running into a traveler on the road would be remote.
Taking advantage of the prisoners that liked to feed information to the guards, I had let them hear me speak of family in Philadelphia that would take me in when I gained my freedom. My hope was that when my escape was discovered, with this misinformation in mind, Ruppert's guards would begin searching south along the coast. While their attention was focused in the logical direction, I would be doing just the opposite, heading west into an unfamiliar land, where there was no reason to expect help from anyone.
What lay ahead of me in the west, was a complete mystery, but it would provide the best chance of a successful escape from Ruppert and his men. Whatever dangers that might arise as a result of going west would simply have to be dealt with as they occured. The first priority had to be to regain and maintain my freedom.
Each evening I had patiently worked to loosen a few boards in the back of the shed in which I slept. As a precaution against my absence being noticed too soon, I constructed a dummy to simulate a sleeping prisoner. Certainly it would never pass close inspection, but for the guard, looking thru the small opening in the door, it would probably pass for a sleeping prisoner. The guards stood in a shelter about ten feet from my shed. In bad weather they had demonstrated no desire to leave their building for anything less than an emergency.
As the storm hit, and the downpour was joined by heavy lightning and thunder, I put the dummy in place, then removed the loosened boards. Quickly I slipped outside, then pushed the boards back in place. Looking around the corner of the building to make sure the guard was still keeping dry in his shelter, I crossed the few feet to the tool shed and retrieved my escape gear. Trying to move between the flashes of lightning, I dashed from one piece of cover to another, until the farm buildings faded from sight in the darkness. Taking a second to catch my breath, I looked around and listened to be sure nobody was about. Then it was one long determined run across the open field that didn't stop until I came to the road. One last glance back checking for possible pursuit, then I turned west, walking at a brisk pace.
Hoping the rain would continue for hours, I pushed forward without rest. It was imperative that as much distance as possible be covered before they realized I was gone. Luckily, this downpour would make tracking difficult if not impossible.
Without a doubt I had gambled it all on this escape. If captured, it was doubtful Ruppert would be content to have me whipped. It was far more likely that my new residence would be in the graveyard at the edge of the farm.
The rain finally came to an end an hour before daylight. As visibility started to improve, I moved off the road and into heavily wooded terrain. Too exhausted to go much further, I found a likely spot deep in the cover and chanced a two hour nap. Some berries and wild grapes found along the way didn't do much to satisfy my hunger but they tasted good and made me feel better.
As the hours passed, it was in the wooded terrain that I stayed, always moving west as I tried to keep the road within sight whenever possible. About mid afternoon, a small farm house came into view. After watching it for over an hour, it appeared that the people working at the far end of the field were the only ones around.
I had no wish to take from any man, but the storm had soaked all the tinder and downed limbs in the woods, and I desperately needed fire. Moving slowly with great caution, I managed to work my way around and then enter the barn. A few few pieces of old boards, some string, and various scraps of material that would serve as tinder were found, and in a few minutes I had made my way back to the woods.
Continuing to move west, I finally stopped after the farm house had been out of view for some time. Using some of the string that I had "borrowed", I made a couple of snares. As a boy in Ireland, money was something we never had, and our little patch of ground couldn't grow enough food to keep the family fed. When father was away, it was only my skill at fishing, and using traps and snares to catch small game that put meat on the table.
In less time than I had expected, one of the snares produced a good sized rabbit. Using the tinder from the barn, I managed to get a fire started, and added one of the boards to keep it going. The rabbit was cleaned in short order, and was soon roasting over the fire on the end of a stick.
With my hunger satisfied for the moment, my next task was to set about hiding all signs that might indicate that I had passed that way. Once that was done, I continued moving west, never forgetting that distance was my best friend at the moment. It was probably well after midnight before I accepted the fact that I was being foolish in trying to keep going in my exhausted state. Twice I had tripped and fallen in the last few minutes. A serious injury was something I could not afford right now. Using the stars for direction, I positioned myself so that the morning sun would hit me in the face. Stretched out under a tall tree, I fell asleep almost instantly.
The morning sun had no chance to warm my sleeping face, for I had awakened before it's first rays peeked over the horizon. A piece of roasted rabbit left over from the night before served as breakfast. Looking over the terrain ahead of me, I saw that the flat farmlands were beginning to give way to hills. That would slow my travel a bit, but it might provide better protection from being seen. I knew that in the end, it didn't really matter,for it was to the west that I must continue my escape regardless of the dangers. After wiping out any signs of my having passed that way, my escape attempt continued.
For two days and more, I continued pushing ahead at an almost frantic pace. Finally, I decided that with Ruppert's men being on horseback, they would have caught up with me by now if they were headed in this direction. With some confidence that the searchers were not coming at least right away, I searched for and found, a likely spot to stop and rest.
Returning to the trail the next morning, I walked all day for the next two days. Late in the second day, I stopped and made camp for the night. The next morning found my body still begging for rest, so it was that I remained for another day.
That afternoon, as I was cooking fish caught from the nearby stream, a beautiful Indian girl suddenly appeared before me, without a bit of sound having reached my ears.
While never having actually met an Indian, I had seen some paintings. Still, I was totally unprepared for just how beautiful an Indian girl could be. She had long shiny black hair, with deep and mysterious dark eyes. She seemed to be taller than most of the women I had known. The last time my mother measured me, I was two inches shy of being six foot tall. My guess was that this girl standing before me, was probably only an inch or two shorter. Her dress was clearly hand made and loosely fit, but it did a poor job of hiding the fact that this was a woman with curves that would draw the attention of any man.
"I am called Mariska. I've traveled a great distance without food. Since yesterday afternoon, I've watched you, trying to determine if you could be trusted. Perhaps it's my hunger speaking, but I feel that you will not try and harm me."