Jump Ship to Freedom by James Lincoln Collier

know the names of the streets or anything. There was only one place I knew of, so I said it. “Fraunces’ Tavern,” I said.
    â€œYou work there?”
    â€œI work in the kitchen,” I said.
    He put the pipe back in his mouth again. “How’d you happen to be out here?” he said.
    I should have been ready for that. “Oh, I came out with a boat this morning, and they went off and left me.”
    The lounger puffed on the pipe. “They just up and left you?”
    I wished I’d thought up a better lie. “I was back in the woods there and I got lost and couldn’t find my way back,” I said. I was beginning to feel prickly and hot.
    â€œYou got lost? On an island that ain’t more’n half a mile from the water in any direction?”
    I blushed. “I ain’t very smart,” I said.
    â€œNo, I can see that,” the lounger said. “A smarter liar would remember that his clothes was all wet.”
    â€œOh.” I couldn’t think of anything more to say.
    â€œCome on, now,” he said. “Out with it. You fell off your ship. Which one was it?”
    I looked down at my feet and blushed some more, which came pretty easy. “I’ll admit it. I was standing watch and I saw a whale or something—leastwise I took it for a whale—and I slung myself out over the railing to get a look at it and I went over.”
    â€œI expect you was drunk,” the lounger said, taking his pipe out again.
    â€œHow’d you guess that?”
    â€œMost times a nigger falls over the side that’s the reason. I expect you got into the ship’s rum.”
    â€œWell, I’ll be honest, I ain’t much of a hand for drinking. I knew it was going to be chilly standing that early watch, so I had a tot of rum, and that one warmed me up so I figured two would do even better.”
    He nodded and put the pipe back in again. “I reckon it’ll teach you a lesson. What did you say the name of the ship was?”
    â€œThe Housatonic,” I said, which was the name of a ship from back home. “From Stratford.”
    â€œThe Housatonic? Where’s she berthed?”
    â€œWell, that’s just it,” I said. “Nobody saw me go overboard, so they went on into port. I ain’t never been in New York before, so I don’t know. Once I found myself in the water, I hit out for the nearest land I could see, which was this here island. I been hiding out in the woods. I was ashamed to show myself. But I’d sure like to get back to my ship.”
    â€œYou’re in for a good hiding, I expect.”
    â€œI reckon so, but it wouldn’t be the first time. Just so’s I get back to my people.”
    He was convinced. Being a little drunk, he didn’t think it out too clearly, anyway. He was heading back across the harbor to Manhattan soon, he said, and if I’d take a turn with the rowing, he’d take me. Provided I didn’t get to leaning over the side looking for whales, which was no doubt just porpoises, anyway. And so he did. As I sat pulling on my oar, I thought about how much smarter white folks are than black. Here he’d gone and made up a much better lie than I’d been able to think up myself, without even knowing the circumstances.
    So we went on across the harbor and into the East River. I tell you, I’d never seen anything like it in my life. There was ships and boats everywhere you looked, tied up on docks or wharves along the waterfront, and coming and going up and down the river. There was every kind you could think of, from little fishing dories to great three-masted schooners that had been to England and Africa and India and places that you couldn’t even imagine.
    The lounger pulled the rowboat up to the wharf. “I’ll drop you off here,” he said. “You go on up and walk along the waterfront. You’re bound to come across your ship somewhere along