Iron. God was sending iron to man, just as Giles had said. The boy could understand why ironmasters were so proud of their calling. It was a trade born and blessed in heaven.

Awed, Joseph watched until the white streak vanished near the horizon. He imagined a huge chunk of star iron smoldering in a fresh crater somewhere. There could be no more potent material in creation. No wonder wars were won, and distances conquered, by machines and equipment of iron.

From that moment, the direction of his life was never in doubt.

Joseph pressed on toward the port of Bristol on the Avon. He was not stopped once, nor required to produce the paper Giles had prepared so carefully. Showed you how much the world valued Thad Windom, didn't it?

Joseph mourned the loss of his mother but felt little regret over having slain his stepfather. He had done what had to be done; vengeance had come as a companion to necessity.

On the journey he found himself thinking strange new thoughts, many of them about religion. He could never subscribe to his dead mother's faith in a gentle, forgiving, and apparently powerless Christ. But he discovered a new sympathy with the Old Testament. Bess had read him many stories about strong, brave men who didn't flinch from bold action. He felt a strengthening kinship with them, and with their God, as he trudged through fields and forests to the great port of western England.

After several false starts, he located a ship's master who soon would be sailing for the New World — a part of the globe in which many Englishmen were finding second chances these days. The man was peg-legged Captain Smollet, his vessel the Gull of Portsmouth. The captain's proposition was straightforward.

"You sign a document indenturing yourself to me. In return, I'll provide you with passage and keep while you're aboard. We'll be calling at Bridgetown, Barbados, then going on to the colonies in America. They need skilled workers there. If you know iron working as well as you claim, I should have no trouble placing you."