“We’ll be sold, and have to work for whoever buys us,” he replied.

“Will we be sold together?”

He knew there was little chance of it, but he did not say so. “We might be,” he said. “Let’s hope for the best.”

There was a silence while Peg took that in. When she spoke again her voice was frightened. “Who will buy us?”

“Farmers, planters, housewives … anyone who needs workers and wants them cheap.”

“Someone might want all three of us.”

Who would want a coal miner and two thieves? Mack said: “Or perhaps we might be bought by people who live close together.”

“What work will we do?”

“Anything we’re told to, I suppose: farm work, cleaning, building …”

“We’ll be just like slaves.”

“But only for seven years.”

“Seven years,” she said dismally. “I’ll be grown-up!”

“And I’ll be almost thirty,” Mack said. It seemed middle-aged.

“Will they beat us?”

Mack knew that the answer was yes, but he lied. “Not if we work hard and keep our mouths shut.”

“Who gets the money when we’re bought?”

“Sir George Jamisson.” The fever had tired him, and he added impatiently: “I’m sure you’ve asked me half these damn questions before.”

Peg turned away, hurt. Cora said: “She’s worried, Mack—that’s why she keeps asking the same questions.”

I’m worried too, Mack thought wretchedly.

“I don’t want to reach Virginia,” Peg said. “I want the voyage to go on forever.”

Cora laughed bitterly. “You enjoy living this way?”

“It’s like having a mother and father,” Peg said.

Cora put her arm around the child and hugged her.

They weighed anchor the following morning, and Mack could feel the ship bowling along in front of a strong favorable wind. In the evening he learned they were almost at the mouth of the Rappahannock River. Then contrary winds kept them at anchor for two wasted days before they could head upriver.

Mack’s fever abated and he was strong enough to go up on deck for one of the intermittent exercise periods; and as the ship tacked upriver he got his first sight of America.

Thick woods and cultivated fields lined both banks. At intervals there would be a jetty, a cleared stretch of bank, and a lawn rising up to a grand house. Here and there around the jetties he saw the huge barrels known as hogsheads, used for transporting tobacco: he had watched them being unloaded in the port of London, and it now struck him as remarkable that every one had survived the hazardous and violent transatlantic voyage to get there from here. Most of the people in the fields were black, he noticed. The horses and dogs looked the same as any others, but the birds perching on the ship’s rail were unfamiliar. There were lots of other vessels on the river, a few merchantmen like the Rosebud and many smaller craft.

That brief survey was all he saw for the next four days, but he kept the picture in his mind like a treasured souvenir as he lay in the hold: the sunshine, the people walking around in the fresh air, the woods and the lawns and the houses. The longing he felt, to get off the Rosebud and walk around in the open air, was so strong it was like a pain.

When at last they anchored he learned they were at Fredericksburg, their destination. The voyage had taken eight weeks.

That night the convicts got cooked food: a broth of fresh pork with Indian corn and potatoes in it, a slab of new bread, and a quart of ale. The unaccustomed rich food and strong ale made Mack feel dizzy and sick all night.

Next morning they were brought up on deck in groups of ten, and they saw Fredericksburg.

They were anchored in a muddy river with midstream islands. There was a narrow sandy beach, a strip of wooded waterfront, then a short, sharp rise to the town itself, which was built around a bluff. It looked as though a couple of hundred people might live there: it was not much bigger than Heugh, the village where Mack had been born, but it seemed a cheerful, prosperous place, with houses of wood painted white and green. On the opposite bank, a little upstream, was another town, which Mack learned was called Falmouth.

The river was crowded, with two more ships as big as the Rosebud, several smaller coasters, some flat-boats, and a ferry crossing between the two towns. Men worked busily all along the waterfront unloading ships, rolling barrels and carrying chests in and out of warehouses.

The prisoners were given soap and made to wash, and a barber came on board to shave the men and cut their hair. Those whose clothes were so ragged as to be indecent were given replacement garments, but their gratitude was diminished when they recognized them as having been taken from those who had died on the voyage. Mack got Mad Barney’s verminous coat: he draped it over a rail and beat it with a stick until no more lice fell out.

The captain made a list of the surviving prisoners and asked each what his trade had been at home. Some had been casual laborers or, like Cora and Peg, had never earned an honest living: they were encouraged to exaggerate or invent something. Peg was put down as a dressmaker’s apprentice, Cora as a barmaid. Mack realized it was all a belated effort to make them look attractive to buyers.

They were returned to the hold, and that afternoon two men were brought down to inspect them. They were an odd-looking pair: one wore the red coat of a British soldier over homespun breeches, the other a once fashionable yellow waistcoat with crudely sewn buckskin trousers. Despite their odd clothes they looked well fed and had the red noses of men who could afford all the liquor they wanted. Beau Bell whispered to Mack that they were “soul drivers” and explained what that meant: they would buy up groups of slaves, convicts and indentured servants and herd them up-country like sheep, to sell to remote farmers and mountain men. Mack did not like the look of them. They went away without making a purchase. Tomorrow was Race Day, Bell said: the gentry came into town from all around for the horse races. Most of the convicts would be sold by the end of the day. Then the soul drivers would offer a knockdown price for all those who remained. Mack hoped Cora and Peg did not end up in their hands.

That night there was another good meal. Mack ate it slowly and slept soundly. In the morning everyone was looking a little better: they seemed bright eyed and able to smile. Throughout the voyage their only meal had been dinner, but today they got a breakfast of porridge and molasses and a ration of rum and water.

Consequently, despite the uncertain future that faced them, it was a cheerful group that mounted the ladder out of the hold and hobbled, still chained, on deck. There was more activity on the waterfront today, with several small boats landing, numerous carts passing along the main street, and small knots of smartly dressed people lounging around, obviously taking a day off!

A fat-bellied man in a straw hat came on board accompanied by a tall, gray-haired Negro. The two of them looked over the convicts, picking out some and rejecting others. Mack soon figured that they were selecting the youngest and strongest men, and inevitably he was among the fourteen or fifteen chosen. No women or children were picked.

When the selection was finished the captain said: “Right, you lot, go with these men.”

“Where are we going?” Mack asked. They ignored him.

Peg began to cry.

Mack embraced her. He had known this was going to happen, and it broke his heart. Every adult Peg trusted had been taken from her: her mother killed by sickness, her father hanged, and now Mack sold away from her. He hugged her hard and she clung to him. “Take me with you!” she wailed.

He detached himself from her. “Try and stay with Cora, if you can,” he said.

Cora kissed him on the lips with desperate passion. It was hard to believe that he might never see her again, never again lie in bed with her and touch her body and make her gasp with pleasure. Hot tears ran down her face and into his mouth as they kissed. “Try and find us, Mack, for God’s sake,” she pleaded.