Chapter 1: Boston Tea Party

I smelled fish. Like a lot of fish. I gagged on the putrid smell and quickly sat up in bed, or what was the excuse for the bed. I was on a tiny hammock on the far side of the room. A solitary lantern hung on the ceiling and a desk was across from me. I sat up and tried to control my stomach. I teeter-tottered across the room and reached out to right myself on the desk. Quickly I realized it wasn't my stomach or head causing the nausea. The room was moving. I was on a ship!

I put my hand on my temples and tried to right my mind as well but, I couldn't. Everything was fuzzy. What was my name...? Good God, what was my name? I put both hands on the desk to steady myself but they recoiled, sticky with black ink. The lines on my palms bled like spider's webs' and I peered to see what parchment I had tampered with. The words were now, very blurry, but I could make out the conclusion.

The captain says we will stay in Boston Harbor for the time being. No one was expecting the storm to throw us off course. I do hope Mr. Franklin sent words for someone to get me. I do not wish to get lost here in the colonies. I just wish to see you again. I will see if I can get someone to take me to see you.

Your loving daughter,

Sarah

Was that my name? Sarah? It didn't feel right. Besides my father was…

"Charlotte? Charlotte!" A redheaded girl in a blue dress burst into my thoughts. "Charlotte, quick, grab for me my pillow from over there! Indians have boarded the ship!" My heart beat faster, but not from fear of attack. I suddenly remembered. I was Charlotte and this was Sarah Phillips. We left London together, headed for the American Colonies. She was to meet her father and I...I was to…I moaned as the headache began again.

"Charlotte, the pillow." I stumbled over and grabbed my pillow from the cot. She loaded her books into it, glancing at me from the corner of her eye. "Are you all right Charlotte? That fall yesterday didn't affect you, did it?"

"What fall?" She cocked her head but I shushed her as shouts echoed from the floor above. Shouts rained down like the voice of angry angels.

"The tea, only the tea!"

"Throw it overboard!"

"That doesn't sound like Indians." I whispered.

"Shh!" More thumps radiated above until we heard footsteps come into our hatchway. Sarah and I pressed ourselves tightly against the wall as a man, no a boy, entered our room. Sarah raised the pillow, "Wait!" I whispered.

"You will not take me alive!" She cried and brought the weight down upon his head. He fell back onto the floor and I scooped up his candle, laying it on the desk. Best not to burn the ship down after all.

"What are you talking about?" he said, rubbing his head. He looked to be about our age, with pale skin and writer's garb. His blond hair was now mussed and pieces of it had fallen out of his ponytail.

"Sarah, he's not an Indian."

"Obviously." He said, as he took a notepad from his pocket. "I'm a journalist. Now, what do you have to say about the unfair taxation in the colonies?"

"Is that what this is about?" As Sarah argued with the newsboy, a wave of nausea swept over me. As the boat rocket again, I tripped over my dress and almost fell to the floor, had he not grabbed my arm.

"Are you ok? I've heard of English girls fainting at everything but really, you're safe here. They're after the tea."

"I'm fine." I whispered and steadied myself.

"She hit her head yesterday." Sarah said with concern. "There was an awful storm."

"Well, what're your names then? This will be perfect for the Gazette."

"It's Sarah. Sarah Phillips of London, England. This is Miss Charlotte Smith." Both my head and the newsboys head jerked upward. Smith? My last name was not Smith. I was Charlotte Louise Frederick. I could remember that much. As for the newsboy…

"Sarah…Sarah Phillips? I'm James Hiller. My friends and I are here to bring you to Philadelphia. Benjamin Franklin sent me."

"He sent you?" The door banged open and two others came in. There was a tall, strong-looking African and a small French boy.

"James, take Mrs. Phillips. We have got to go, redcoats are on their way!" As quickly as they had come, they disappeared and ran back on deck.

"Come on, Mrs. Phillips. I don't like to use force but I'd rather not end up in jail." With that, James took Sarah's wrists and began to force her, kicking and screaming, on deck.

"Charlotte!"

"Coming!" I shouted and followed them.

The deck was a mess. Tea and wreckage were scattered everywhere. I saw Sarah, struggling in James' arms, and I ran over to them. A British soldier came at them but James tripped him, sending the man overboard! I followed, making it off the plank but couldn't catch up to them. I kicked off my shoes and continued to run, faster, faster. The harbor breeze picked up my hair and-

"Get down." A man pulled me behind some barrels and I saw it was the African man.

"Help!" Sarah tried to yell.

"What are you doing?" I hissed. "We just ran away from a plundered British ship. For all those soldiers know, we're colonists."

"Exactly." The African looked me in the eye. "I don't know who you are but you're welcome to stay with us. At least until morning." I nodded. "Now come on. The wagon isn't far away and I know a spot we can stay for the night." We all began to run in the shadows. My feet persisted as they hit every rock and splinter on the way. Unfortunately a particularly large and painful pothole caused me to bump into the French boy.

"Hey!"

"Sorry." I whispered. However, the kid continued to look at me.

"Are you ok?"

"I'm fine."

"Moses!" he called the African over.

"What Anrí?"

"MOSES, SHE DOES NOT LOOK SO GOOD."

"You are very pale Miss-"

"Smith." I said, not sure why I was using the fake name. "Charlotte Smith."

"Well Miss Smith, if someone is supposed to pick you up, we can deliver you to them. Who are you meeting with?"

"I-I don't-"I whimpered as another painful headache overcame me.

"James, Sarah!" Moses called. I sat on the gravel and clutched my head. Things got blurry as I tried to remember.

"Charlotte, Charlotte!" Sarah's voice then…nothing.