Privateer's Apprentice by Susan Verrico

calls to me. “You’ve done a good job.”
    Peep’s praise and a night spent hanging on the rigging have boosted my confidence. I place the eyeglass securely in my pocket and start down the roping. My legs feel stiff, and I stop for a minute to let the blood flow back into them. Soon, though, I am moving nimbly along as if I have climbed thelines my entire life. I sense those on deck watching me, and I am glad. Perhaps now they will see I am an able sailor.
    The wind is strong, and every now and then I have to stop until it dies down enough for me to go on. When I have made it almost to the bottom, I pause and glance down to gauge the distance from the ropes to the deck. Only a few feet remain from where I need to let go. I envision Ratty Tom’s jump, how he had leaned sideways toward the deck as he neared, so that he had a clear landing. I take a deep breath and move my hands to the outside of the ropes so that they don’t get tangled when I make the leap. I feel a slight tugging at the ropes at my waist that causes me to look down. Gunther is staring up at me. Our eyes meet, and I see a smile playing on his mouth. “Watch your step, lad!” he yells up to me. “There’s sharks at port!”
    His words startle me, and I jerk back awkwardly. One foot slips from the roping, throwing me off balance. I kick frantically to find something for my foot to grip, but the wind pushes my body outward like a sheet flapping on a line. I feel the safety tether slipping from my waist, but there is nothing I can do to stop it. Below me, I hear Solitaire Peep shouting, and then I hear the Captain shouting too, but their words are lost on the wind. My arms feel as if they are being pulled from the sockets as the weight of my body pulls me downward. I try to tighten my grip but I can’t hold on anymore. I scream as my fingers open and I tumble down into the ocean.

CHAPTER TEN
    I hit the water hard, and the sea quickly swallows me. Churning my arms, I right myself and swim toward a bright patch above me. I break through and gulp air, choking on the salty water that fills my throat.
    Through blurred eyes, I see Solitaire Peep leaning over the ship’s railing near the bow, waving a flaming torch back and forth over the sea. “Swim to me, boy!” he shouts. I kick hard, heading for the ship.
    Gunther’s voice rises above the others. “Poor lad will make a fine meal for our finned friends this day!” As his words register, my eyes dart quickly over the water, but it appears as smooth as poured silver.
    â€œThey be at port!” Solitaire Peep shouts, sweeping the torch toward the side of the ship. I turn my head; in the fiery orange light of the torch, I see four fins lined up like a row of black sails.
    Gasping, I try to swim faster, but the current pushes me away from the ship. My right leg feels odd, as if someone has weighted it with a stone; I cannot will it to move with the rest of my body.
    â€œSwim faster!” Peep screams, waving the burning piece of wood as if a demon possesses him.
    â€œThe current!” I gasp, trying to keep my head up. “It’s pushing me back.” Salt water seeps between my clenched teeth, and I tilt my head higher.
    â€œThey’re scenting him!” Gunther yells, his voice filled with excitement.
    I watch all on the ship’s deck turn toward the sharks. Horrified, I see that two have broken away from the others and are gliding toward me.
    â€œHelp me!” I scream, pulling hard toward the ship, my injured leg dragging uselessly through the water. I choke as water fills my mouth and nose. My flailing slows as I feel darkness slipping in; a sudden warmth floods through me and brings with it the memory of another day. I see my father standing before the type board in the back of the shop, picking letters from the lower row. I am standing beside him, listening as he teaches me about the importance of keeping the type