CHAPTER 1



JULY 1743

A storm was coming. Black mountains of clouds blocked the setting sun. The ship sailed toward them. What else could it do? There was no shelter in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.

Sailors ran around the deck, tying down whatever could be washed overboard. Waves crashed against the side of the ship. The sails flapped as the wind shifted course. Sailors chased the passengers below.

Inside the ship, the quarters were dark. There were no lights, not even a candle. Any flame could start a fire that would destroy the wooden ship. The people were crammed together on rows of cots. Many were sick. There were fights over the sea biscuits, or if someone stumbled against another man’s cot. Or about what they believed.

Many had left Ireland for America because people wouldn’t be punished for their religion in William Penn’s colony. But they weren’t there yet.

The sea churned. The wind blew. The ship leaned to the left. Some passengers groaned. Others whispered in the dark.

“Thirty days. And still no land in sight.”

“Why did we want to go to America?”

“What will we find there?”

“Land to call our own.”

“Wild savages.”

“Freedom.”

A woman screamed.

Everyone was silent. Then there was another sound.

A tiny baby took her first breath and cried out. In the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, somewhere between the Old World and the New, Mary Jemison was born.



Text copyright © 2016 by Macmillan

Illustrations copyright © 2016 by Clint Hansen