Held for Ransom

Sean stumbled on the uneven boardwalk as he made his way over to rest against the rough-hewn planks of the hotel. If only someone would have pity on him and take him in for a night, he could make himself presentable. If he cleaned up well enough, maybe he could convince someone of his prior bank clerk experience, and he could get a job to support himself.

“Hey you,” voices mocked him as they passed by. “The port is that way, if you want to board a ship and go back to where you came from.”

Running a hand through his unkempt auburn hair, Sean ignored the rude remarks and limped toward the hotel entrance, hoping for a drink of water. His body bore the trauma of the recent eight-week voyage in the ship’s hold across the Atlantic. He’d boldly proclaimed his political views back in Ireland, which resulted in his transport against his will, but he’d learned his lesson. No one would hear a peep out of him in Boston, not that any would listen with so many politicians here.

“Bank clerk, eh?” The manager peered over his spectacles, studying Sean. “Care to elaborate on your story?”

With effort, Sean kept his temper in check. He’d get this job on his own merits, or he’d go elsewhere. It hadn’t taken him long to learn no one wanted to hear his tales of woe. His kidnappers claimed they’d taken him prisoner for treason, when in reality he had been held for ransom. A sentinel on board the ship had let it slip that a merchant had ordered his capture, hoping any ransom paid would satisfy the master’s unpaid debts. When it was discovered Sean’s family had no money, his captors threw him overboard. Fortunately, by the time this happened, the vessel had already entered the Boston harbor.