Jump Ship to Freedom by James Lincoln Collier Page B

you did. You asked where the Congress was.”
    â€œThat ain’t the same,” I said. Any minute Captain Ivers might come along. “Now tell me or I’ll give you a cuff. I can’t spend all day talking. I’m bound for a licking as it is.”
    She didn’t say anything for a minute. Then she said, “I don’t believe nothing you said. You been swimming around in the harbor. You jumped off your ship and run away.”
    I grabbed the collar of her gown. “You’re a pretty smart darky, ain’t you? Now cut out the sass and tell me where Congress is.”
    She began to squirm around. “I don’t know where it is. Let go of my shirt.”
    â€œYou don’t know?”
    â€œI never said I did,” she said. She looked at me, worried.
    â€œI ought to cuff you for wasting my time like that. My capt—I could have got into a peck of trouble standing around here.”
    â€œIt ain’t my fault,” she said. “I didn’t say I knew.” She grabbed onto the barrow handles. “I got to go before I get a licking.”
    â€œA licking? You ain’t likely to get the kind of licking I’ll get if they catch me.”
    â€œOh, you don’t know,” she said. “I work at the most famous tavern in America, and maybe the whole world. They make us step pretty smart.”
    â€œWhat tavern is that?” I said quick.
    â€œFraunces’ Tavern. It’s the most—”
    I grabbed her by the neck of her gown again. “All right, Nosy,” I said. “I’m giving you one last chance. You take me to Fraunces’ Tavern and I won’t cuff you. But no fooling around this time.”
    It was a stroke of luck. Of course it made me pretty nervous to think about going to see Black Sam Fraunces, being as he was so famous. Maybe he’d forgot all about my daddy. But he was sure to know where Congress was, and maybe how to find Mr. Johnson, too. I had to take a chance on it.
    We set off. Nosy turned off from the waterfront, pushing the barrow before her, and I walked alongside. The streets was narrow and crooked and pretty muddy. The houses was right up against the street, and sometimes the cellar stairs cut into the roadway, so you had to watch out. There wasn’t so many people coming along here as there was by the waterfront, but the people was made up for by the hogs and cows wandering around loose. There was plenty of dogs, too, and sometimes dead ones lying in the mud.
    Finally we came out to where Broad Street met Pearl. “There it is,” Nosy said, pointing. I looked down the street. I couldn’t believe it. Back home a tavern was about the size of a house, with a bench out front for the loungers to sit on. Fraunces’ Tavern was about the biggest building I ever did see. It was made of brick, four stories high with lots of chimneys in the roof, big windows sparkling in the sunshine, and a big fancy door with carvings all around. I could see why Black Sam Fraunces was so famous: I reckoned his tavern was the finest one in all of America. I got more nervous than ever. Why would anybody rich and famous as that take notice of somebody like me, who wasn’t anything at all?
    Nosy shoved the wheelbarrow along around back. I knew better than to go in through the front door, so I went around back with her. There was a stable there, and a couple of sheds I figured they used for storage, and a well with a big sweep for hauling the bucket up and down. There was people going to and fro in the yard on business—working the stables or carrying food and water in and out of the kitchen. A lot of them were black folks, too.
    Nosy shoved the wheelbarrow up next to the kitchen door. “What are you going to do now?” she said.
    â€œI ain’t sure,” I said. I was good and nervous. It didn’t seem right for me just to go in there and barge up to Black Sam Fraunces like he was anybody.