The Adventures of Oliver Button

Chapter Eight

Solid ground felt strange beneath Con’s feet after six weeks at sea. Her mind imagined the rocking of the earth where there was no rocking, swaying her vision slightly even though she walked on perfectly still, solid earth. She supposed her mind had gotten used to the rocking of the boat. Nevertheless, she was grateful to be on land. Maybe she could finally bathe without fear, or eat something other than the ship’s stale food.

Her first order of business would be to search for Biddy. She had no idea if Biddy’s ship had been bound for Boston or some other city, but it was worth a try to put the word out for her. After receiving her pay, Con set out with her fellow sailors to the nearest tavern. She figured that was the first place many sailors would go, and therefore one of the best places to get word of incoming people.

The tavern was dimmer than the sunny August day, and somehow, a little warmer. Sailors sat on chairs and tables all over the place, drinking from tall clay mugs. Con’s crewmates walked straight to the bar to order drinks. Con followed them a little more hesitantly, and after they had gone, rested her arms on the bar and waited for the bartender to see her.

He handed her crewmate a drink and then looked at her. “What can I get ya, laddie?”

“I’m looking for a friend,” said Con.

“Whoa, there, son—aren’t you a little young for that?”

Con shook her head. “I mean my actual friend. I’m wondering if you’ve seen a boy my age, maybe, with blonde hair tied up at his neck, a bit shorter than me, and thin and sort of light-skinned with freckles on his nose…”

The bartender shook his head. “Haven’t seen him. A lot of people come through here, and some of them are boys your age. Not as many of you as the older sailors, but still quite a few. I don’t think I would be able to remember him if I had seen him.”

 Con nodded. “Thank you, sir.” She turned and walked away.

Con spent the rest of the day searching Boston for any sign of Biddy, but found none. At the end of the day, she rented a room with some of the money she had earned during her voyage to the colonies. She lay on the feather mattress on the room’s bed—by far the finest bed she had ever used—and stared at the ceiling while the candle on the table at her bedside burned, its light flickering on the walls and ceiling. She thought about her friendship with Biddy. She thought again about what she would do if she had to live the rest of her life without her.

She didn’t like to sleep alone.

Con wondered if she would have done better to sign up on another ship. Maybe she could make a new friend. Or maybe she could have stayed with the doctor. She liked being his apprentice. He mentored her well in the ways of medicine. She had even befriended him—they just weren’t as close as she had been with Biddy. But, she thought, she might have to make a new friend after all. It was unreasonable for her to expect to find Biddy in the colonies, with such an extensive area for Biddy to have landed—and she didn’t even know for sure if Biddy was alive. She might have been found out for a girl aboard the cargo ship and killed. Con shuddered. She had forgotten—she hadn’t been allowing herself to think that sort of thing. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and opened her eyes again, staring once more at the ceiling.

If Biddy had landed in the colonies, she would have landed under a false name, although she wouldn’t necessarily keep that false name—or any, for that matter. She could have any profession. She could have become someone’s servant, or she could have apprenticed herself to a master in the guise of a boy. Or she could be swindling again. Con couldn’t be sure.

It was entirely impractical for Con to expect to be able to find Biddy, she knew. Her first day in Boston had only confirmed that fact. But she would still try to find her, at least until her sailing money ran out.