
“Where will we go?” she said in a whisper.
“I’m going to America.”
“America! How?”
“There’s a ship in the harbor that’s bound for Boston on the morning tide — I’ll shin up a rope tonight and hide on deck in one of the boats.”
“You’ll stow away,” Maisie said, with fear and admiration in her voice.
“That’s right.”
Looking at her brother, she saw for the first time that there was the shadow of a moustache beginning to show on his upper lip. He was becoming a man, and one day he would have a full black beard like Papa’s. “How long does it take to get to America?” she asked him.
He hesitated, then looked foolish and said: “I don’t know.”
She understood that she was not included in his plans, and she felt miserable and scared. “We’re not going together, then,” she said sadly.
He looked guilty, but he did not contradict her. “I’ll tell you what you should do,” he said. “Go to Newcastle. You can walk there in about four days. It’s a huge city, bigger than Gdansk — no one will notice you there. Cut your hair, steal a pair of trousers and pretend to be a boy. Go to a big stables and help with the horses — you’ve always been good with horses. If they like you, you’ll get tips, and after a while they might give you a proper job.”
Maisie could not imagine being totally alone. “I’d rather go with you,” she said.
