Nat was not used to being in such dark, close quarters for so long. When the Dolphin was becalmed on the river in the summertime, there had been plenty to do above decks still, in the sun and fresh air. If nothing else, there was always swimming. When storms rocked the little vessel out on the open sea, he braved the elements with the rest of the crew to make sure the ship stayed on course and the cargo remained secure. Sitting with Caleb and Gabriel in the constable's shed, Nat was a little afraid of losing his mind.

Gabe took the opportunity to sleep as much as he wanted. Caleb said little for two days, rejecting the thin gruel that the constable's wife offered them. After being told that the three of them were to be placed in the stocks for five hours, Gabe tried to persuade him to eat to keep up his strength. When he still refused, Gabe shrugged and helped himself to Caleb's portion.

"Five hours in the stocks sounds like a holiday compared to two days in this crate," Nat said, leaning against one wall with his head tilted back, staring at the low ceiling. By now, he no longer cared what his father might do to him when they returned to the Dolphin. All he wanted was to be back on that ship. Even the threat of banishment from Wethersfield did not matter; after more than ten years, Nat had discovered every possible route to Hannah's, no matter how hidden or roundabout.

At about noon on Thursday, all three heads lifted at the sound of the rattling lock. The constable was there, of course, with his two cohorts, plus an additional man to help keep the ruffians from making a last, desperate bid for freedom. They marched along High Street toward the Meeting House, blinking and squinting in the bright autumn sunlight, which they had not seen for more than two days.

A few onlookers with extra time to spare loitered outside, watching as the law-abiding men lifted the heavy top half of the wooden stocks. As he bent forward and rested his tanned neck in the groove cut out for it, his wrists secured at either side, Nat wondered if this was what it felt like on the executioner's block. One of the men slid the top half back down over him, locking it in place and trapping him, and proceeded to do the same to his ankles. He heard several grunts and the sound of thudding wood and knew his mates were similarly situated. Already the wood felt as if it were cutting into his wrists. It took several minutes of experimenting before he figured out how best to turn his head to see his fellow prisoners, and to watch those who gathered to observe the punishment.

Several good citizens jeered and tossed weak insults at them. At first Nat only rolled his eyes at their sad attempts at wit, while Gabe traded mockery and curses with the public immediately. As Lecture time drew nearer, the number of lookers-on increased. Caleb retained his mood of lethargic melancholy and said nothing to any of them. One or two people recognized Caleb and called out to him, but he stayed silent, pretending not to hear or recognize them.

Suddenly, something cold and wet hit Nat on the side of his face, splattering against his skin and the wooden board. A group of younger boys, none of them older than twelve or thirteen, erupted in laughter. One of them, his hands already filthy, crouched down to scoop up another handful of mud. Nat finally let go of his resolve and let his tongue lash out at them. The rest of the people chuckled their approval.

"I've some breakfast for you if you're hungry!" another boy called out.

An apple core flew through the air and bounced off Nat's forehead, sending shooting pain through his skull. The boy laughed with triumph, applauded by the others. Forgetting who had thrown it, Nat retaliated with a string of insults that would have charred the ears of any one of his shipmates. They brought cheers from most of the gathering, but sent the boy fleeing in tears.

"Careful what you say in front of a lady!" a man called from the rear of the crowd.

The noise all but disappeared at the knowledge that a woman was among them. Somehow Nat already knew, before he craned his neck uncomfortably, that it would be Kit standing there, observing him in this undignified situation. Other heads turned, and the small crowd dispersed rather quickly, her presence a rain cloud on their cheerful sport. Yes, it was Kit who stepped from her half-hiding place in a clump of trees and hesitantly approached the stocks. Nat purposely set his face to betray no emotion, but Gabe was glaring at her spitefully, as if it was her fault that they were there.

Nat had not intended to speak first, but he saw that her eyes had begun to fill with tears. A baffling mixture of sentiments knotted up in his chest, and he found he could not face her pity with any kind of indifference. He summoned frustration to the forefront of his emotions.

"Kit, get away from here!" he whispered loudly. "For goodness' sake, you can't be seen alone in this place."

But she only came closer. For the first time, Nat was unable to get away from her if he wanted, and the reality of this was grating. He had always been able to escape her somehow—if he realized he had grown too friendly, or her arrogance was unbearable—and the fact that he could not this time made him more defensive. Seeing her standing there, he began to feel foolish for what he had done, and hating that she had to see him in such a helpless state.

"Oh, Nat, it's too awful." she moaned. "Surely you don't deserve this, do you? I can't stand to see you this way!"

"As a matter of fact, I am very well," he said, though his gritted teeth probably told the opposite. "I've slept in ships' quarters that were more stifling. 'Tis nothing worth your sympathies."

"Can I do something for you? Do you want anything to eat?"

Nat felt the heat building up in his face. Why was she offering him help? Obviously she was not aware of the specific crime. If she had, surely she would be berating him for what he and his crew members had done, and not demonstrating such pity. When she went up to the Meeting House, though, she would see the offense clearly written out and posted on the door.

But then…she had known that he was here, so she must have heard what they had done to her future home. Why had she not said anything about it before? Presumably she had meant only to see if he was all right—but he could not consider such a possibility. She might have come to mock at his condition, but why the tears?

"Don't waste your pity on me," he said. "For a second look at Sir William's face the other night, I would stand here another five hours. The whole affair was well worth the trouble."

Satisfied, he watched her turn away in a huff, flouncing toward the Meeting House. By turning his neck a certain angle, he could just see her stopping to read the crime and its sentence at the door. He waited for the axe to fall, but she did not react as he had expected. He saw no shock of understanding, no gape of indignation. In fact, her shoulders drooped with defeat, a stance he had seen her take before, and he felt strangely sickened. Without another glance at him, she gathered her petticoats and ran away, surprising even him.

Watching her flee, Nat completely forgot about his compatriots. Until Gabe spoke up.

"What was that?" he asked derisively.

"I cannot tell you," Nat replied, forcing his voice into a neutral tone.

"I always thought she was a strange one."

"Yes." Nat continued looking in the direction Kit had fled, though she was long gone from sight. "Strange, indeed."

Kit was not the only visitor to come closer to the prisoners, nor the most feminine. Caleb's sister, Chastity, and her husband only cast a few shamed glances toward the sailors when they came into the Meeting House at the beginning of Lecture. When it was over, however, they hung back and approached Caleb, Nat, and Gabriel when the crowd had dispersed. Chastity, with her dark curls, gray eyes, and upturned nose, was obviously Caleb's sister, though she had a more delicate build, and was very pretty. After looking over her once, Nat averted his eyes, not wanting to incur the wrath of her burly husband.

"Caleb, what is this?" she said mournfully. "What have you done to yourself?"

"I'm sorry, sister," Caleb said, the first words he had spoken that day. "I lost my head that night."

She sighed. "What are we to do? You've been banished from town—what would our mother think?"

"I would rather not know," he replied, hanging his head downward once again.

"Come now, enough of this," Chastity's husband said, his voice booming. "The boy has been foolish, that is obvious, but I can't imagine he would be one of the masterminds behind it. I would have never believed it of him if I had not seen this punishment with my own eyes." He squinted fiercely at Nat and Gabe. "Did you two induce him to carry out this mischief?"

Nat and Gabe twisted their necks as best they could to glare at Caleb. Nat half expected Caleb to blame the two of them solely for their current circumstances, but Caleb shook his head—as much as the hole cut in the wood would allow him.

"No," he mumbled, "I have not been wrongfully punished. I contributed to my share of the trouble."

"What if I never see you again?" Chastity asked.

"Come to the harbor when the Dolphin docks," Gabe spoke up, "and he'll wave at you from the deck."

"Oh, Caleb!" Chastity moaned.

"Well, then," her husband said sternly, "you must accept your punishment without complaint. It was a grievous and childish act. The Ashby family is well-respected in Wethersfield, and has done nothing to deserve such vandalism."

"Yes, sir," Caleb muttered, not without a little bitterness, "I heartily regret it."

"Good man." He placed a hand at his wife's elbow. "Let us leave this place, my dear."

Tears in her eyes, Chastity stepped forward and kissed Caleb's dirty cheek. "I pray that God allows our paths to cross again, dear brother—in happier circumstances." She bowed her head as her husband led her away from the stocks.

Out of respect, Nat had averted his eyes from the scene, pretending to be fascinated by a couple of wandering chickens. Now, he turned back and saw Caleb glaring at him with eyes like thunderclouds. He was in no mood to be berated yet again for leading them into mischief. Lecture was over—they had only one more hour to endure punishment.

Unfortunately, that last hour was also the longest. Another idle crowd eventually gathered to taunt them, though less enthusiastic and fewer in numbers than before. Aching all over from their unnatural positions, Nat, Caleb, and Gabe were not the source of entertainment they had been earlier that day. That did not stop several boys from resuming the earlier sport of throwing mud, insults, and even a few pebbles. When the now-familiar faces of the constable and his men appeared, Nat had to steel himself against appearing too relieved.

A few cheers went up when they unlocked the three rivermen and led them toward the harbor. Nat's back was stiff, his wrists rubbed raw from the wooden boards, and his head pounded from being out in the afternoon sun, even in its autumn weakness. Besides that, his face was streaked with dried mud and bruised from that well-aimed apple core, and he was sure that a stone had left a small cut on his cheek. He glanced at his companions, who seemed to be in the same state. Despite Caleb's distress over their banishment, he seemed relieved to be leaving.

"Go on, get out of here!" one boy called after them.

"Good riddance!" yelled another.

The shouts and jeers persisted, with increasing weakness, as they were walked down to the docks. Nat felt a weight abandon his shoulders when he saw a boat waiting for them, with Tom and Jedidiah inside, ready to row them back to the Dolphin.

"Remember the punishment if you're found within the town limits again," the constable growled, poking the butt of his musket into Nat's back.

Nat, Gabe, and Caleb climbed wordlessly into the boat. The other two Dolphin men seemed to recognize their need for silence. Even Tom said little as they rowed back to the ship. Nat watched the trees along the riverside, but their branches barely moved. Hardly any wind was blowing.

After another bend in the river, the weather-stained sails and barnacle-covered hull of the Dolphin greeted them. Nat's spirits rose; although he knew a severe whipping awaited him at his father's hand, he was home.

"We told everyone about it," Tom said as they pulled closer. "Most of 'em say we're heroes." He grinned at Jedidiah. "I'm sorry the three of you were punished while we got away. But we were able to tell 'em about it, and sneak back to town long enough to find out your punishment. Otherwise, you might've been left behind 'til we came back on our way to the Indies."

Nat ignored him. The boat bumped against the Dolphin's flank and several heads emerged above them, peering over the side. Laughter and cheerful shouts drifted down to the water. Nat was the last of the three to climb up and step onto the deck. Most of the crew had gathered to greet them, and sent up a cheer when they were all aboard. Once again, they were on public display, though for different reasons and with far different reactions.

"Thought you'd be stoned to death, Nat!" one of them said.

"Good lord, you're a mess. What does the other fellow look like?"

"That'll teach you not to sing in the streets again!"

Several stepped forward and slapped Nat and the other two on the back, and a few even congratulated him. He tried to smile, but found the whole situation much less amusing than they did. Gabe joined in the revelry, while Caleb looked as though he wanted to forget the whole thing ever happened.

"About your work now!"

The shout pierced through the frivolity, silencing the entire crew. Captain Eaton stood a few feet from the other men, his hands clasped behind his back. Even at a distance, Nat saw the tension in his jaw. His stomach sinking with dread, Nat knew he now had to accept whatever additional punishment his father would mete out. Shoulders squared and chin level, he approached the captain with every scrap of dignity that remained within him.

His father's face was slightly flushed, doubtless from the effort of reining in his powerful anger. Not only his jaw, but every muscle in his body seemed to be taut. He did not watch his son as he came forward, but instead looked out over the river. Nat thought he had never seen his father so dignified. With his head held high and his back perfectly straight, he looked more like the captain of a fighting ship than a trading vessel.

"Father," Nat said wearily.

At last, the older man's gaze swept back to his son. Captain Eaton's blue eyes, not even an inch higher than his son's, held every emotion that he denied the rest of his body. In them, Nat clearly saw grief, fatigue, and—undoubtedly the worst of all—shame and disappointment. For several long moments, the two men held each other's gaze. Nat's dread increased with every second that passed, but he dared not utter another sound.

"Go back to work, Nathaniel," the captain said, in a voice that chilled Nat's blood.

Nat closed his eyes and turned away.

A whipping would have been less painful.