Into the Storm by Avi

you hide?” Patrick asked.
    â€œI’ve fitted up a barrel. It’s perfectly dry. I’ll show it to you if you’d like. It’s over here.”
    They cut around three rows of barrels. “Here it is,” Laurence said.
    Patrick looked about. “Where?”
    Laurence giggled. “You can’t tell, can you?” He lifted the lid of his barrel. Patrick saw it was empty save for some straw.
    â€œThat’s my home,” Laurence said with pride.
    Patrick said, “What do you do all day?”
    Laurence shrugged. “I’ve counted the barrels lots of times. Sometimes I sing songs or try to recall things I’ve read. Or I try and think of all that’s happened. Other times I just sit and remember my family.”
    â€œLaurence,” Patrick said, “you never did tell me of them. Or why you had to run away. Faith, was it something to do with the mark on your face?”
    Laurence touched his cheek. “I have to forget all that,” he said softly.
    â€œOh.” Patrick emptied his pockets. “I brought you some food,” he said. “Bread and cooked rice.”
    As Laurence reached for the food, he asked, “How many days have we been traveling?”
    â€œThis is the seventh day.”
    â€œIt feels like a month,” Laurence said. “Where do you stay?”
    â€œAh, Laurence, you never saw such a place for noise. Sure, it’s crowded beyond belief and terrible dirty.”
    â€œIs it warm?”
    â€œCold. And rats, Laurence. I’ve seen a lot of them.”
    â€œThey’re down here too. Once I read in a book about sailors taming them.”
    â€œFaith, I wouldn’t.”
    â€œI should like to try. It would mean company. I’ve been leaving some food near where I think one comes. I call him Nappy, for Napoleon…. Patrick,” Laurence said, abruptly changing the subject, “could I come visit you?”
    â€œWouldn’t risk it,” Patrick warned. “You said yourself they were looking for you.”
    Laurence sighed.
    After a moment he asked, “What place are we going to?”
    â€œBoston.”
    â€œIs that a country?”
    â€œA city, I think. My father will meet us there.”
    â€œWhat’s he like?”
    â€œFaith, not a big man. Nor one for smiling or singing songs. Nor can he read, not like Maura or me. For all of that he’s a God-fearing, kindly soul.”
    â€œPatrick?”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œWhen we get to America, can I go with you?”
    For a moment Patrick was silent. Then he said, “The thing is, Laurence, I’m sure my sister is to marry that Mr. Drabble. I’m not so fond of the man,” Patrick confessed. “And I don’t know what all of that will bring.”
    â€œPatrick …?”
    â€œWhat’s that now?”
    â€œWhy did you leave Ireland?”
    â€œSure, you know of the terrible times there.”
    Laurence shook his head.
    â€œJesus, Mary, and Joseph! I would have thought everyone knew. It’s something truly bad. When we had all but nothing, Da left for America to find work. And then didn’t he do fine enough to send for us? Ah, Laurence, it must be a grand country. The promised land they call it.”
    Laurence wondered what Patrick would say if he knew his father owned land in Ireland. Then he reminded himself he had nothing to do anymore with any of that.
    â€œLaurence,” Patrick said after a while. “I had better go.”
    â€œWill you come back tomorrow?”
    â€œYou know I’ll try. But I can’t always.”
    Laurence said, “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
    â€œI wasn’t frightened. Not really.”
    â€œIt was just something to do.”
    â€œI’m sure. Look for me then.”
    â€œI will.”
    Patrick made his way back down the center aisle of the hold, found the ladder, and began to climb up. “Bye!” he