Unsinkable by Gordon Korman

Atlantic sped by below.
Paddy knelt there, the lid of the trunk flipped back. He was pulling trousers and shirts out of it and flinging them overboard into the sea.
“Stop that!” Juliana commanded.
Paddy looked up, but the pace of his tossing never slackened. “Begging your pardon, miss, but see to your own plate.”
Sophie was genuinely intrigued. “Very well — so you’re not stealing. But what are you doing? Why would you risk arrest by taking some poor person’s belongings only to drop them into the ocean?”
A darkness passed over Paddy’s face. “This is no ‘poor person.’ He’s a heartless assassin, he is. This stuff belongs to the gangster who killed my best friend. At least it used to.” A ghost of a smile flashed across his young features as he flung some fine linen underwear into the night. “Now it belongs to the fish.”
“Why should we accept the word of a thief?” Juliana demanded.
In answer, Paddy reached into the trunk and produced a large black pistol.
Both girls retreated behind Alfie.
“Come on, Paddy,” the young steward urged. “Put that down.”
“I’ll do better than that, I will.” Paddy tossed the weapon out the open hatch.
“You called him Paddy,” Juliana accused breathlessly. “You know him!”
“Well, uh, yes, but —”
“When were you planning to share that with us?” Sophie demanded.
“Paddy isn’t a member of the crew, strictly speaking,” Alfie mumbled.
“What is he, then?” Juliana asked scornfully. “A stowaway?” Alfie’s shamefaced look told the whole story. “He is! You’re harboring a stowaway!”
Paddy looked at her defiantly. “How easy it is for you to point your finger at me, standing there in those fine clothes with a good dinner in your belly. And I’ll wager those eardrops are real diamonds!”
Juliana’s hands flew to her ears.
“You’re right,” said Sophie, almost kindly. “Neither of us has lived your life. Why don’t you tell us about it?”
“Not much to tell, is there?” Paddy replied stiffly. “I had every right to walk away from a stepfather who mistook my face for a punching bag. Daniel and I may have been hungry in Belfast, but we lookedafter each other. Did we steal? That we did, because starving to death was the only other choice. And I’d be right there still, happy with my lot, if Kevin Gilhooley hadn’t killed Daniel and tried to kill me, too.” He smiled grimly. “The fact that Gilhooley had a ticket on the same ship I stowed away on — well, I guess that’s just what they call the luck of the Irish.”
Soft-hearted Sophie was liquid with sympathy, but Juliana’s expression remained stone.
“And you expect us to believe someone who jettisons a man’s property and leaves him without a change of clothes to put on his back?”
“Oh, no, miss,” said Paddy in mock seriousness. “I would never be so hard-hearted.” From the open trunk, he produced a snowy white dress shirt — the sole item remaining — and spread it out on the deck in front of him. Then, from his back pocket, he pulled a shiny Waterman fountain pen. Squeezing the rubber reservoir and dragging the nib across the fabric, he wrote a single word in indelible black ink. At last, he held up the garment to show the others:
MURDERER
He fluttered the shirt to dry the ink, then folded it neatly and placed it back in the trunk.
Alfie rushed over and closed the hatch. “Paddy, you’re daft!”
Paddy turned to Juliana. “Well, fancy lady, I suppose you’ll be wanting to report me to the captain now. Alfie knows where to look for me. Then they’ll throw me in the brig, and Gilhooley can come and kill me at his leisure.”
He hefted the trunk, which weighed almost nothing now, and walked past them into the depths of E Deck.
Sophie turned pleading eyes on her friend. “Julie, you mustn’t turn him in! It could cost him his life!”
Alfie regarded her in trepidation. It was hard to judge what the girl might do. Certainly, anything that harmed