You Do

You Do

An excerpt from Forten, the Sailmaker

by Ester Douty

At sunrise the prisoners were allowed to ascend to the upper deck where they gratefully gulped the fresh air. James, scrambling up the ladder with the rest, searched through the horde of ragged, dirty, half-starved men for a familiar figure. After awhile he found one-a wiry, freckle–faced boy from Philadelphia named Daniel Brewton. Daniel was only 14, a year younger than James. When he saw the stalwart, brown-skinned Forten, he flung his bony arms around him and tried to keep back his salty tears. James’s eyes fastened

on the silk handkerchief Daniel wore knotted around his neck. It appeared to be alive with crawling black spots.

“Ugh!” he cried in disgust, “vermin.” He snatched the kerchief and flung it overboard. Then he felt something crawling on his own head and down his neck and arms. He too, was covered with the horrible black lice that infested the entire hulk and crept over the helpless men, carrying disease as they went. James soon learned that vermin were among the lesser horrors of the Jersey.

Much worse were the drinking water and the food. The water, stored in enormous casks that were never cleaned, was thick and clammy, with a foul odor. The food allowance for the week-what little there was of it- never varied: pork, salt beef, dried peas, oatmeal, flour, biscuits, and butter. The biscuit was moldy and filled with worms. The pork was slimy with decay and stank so that even half-starved prisoners could seldom bring themselves to swallow it. The damaged peas were as indigestible as grapeshot. The flour and oatmeal were sour, and the oil and suet, which passed for butter, were rancid.