He smiled, thinking of Smollet. What a rogue. He had asked only a couple of perfunctory questions about Joseph's background. Fearing the offer of indenture might be withdrawn, Joseph had rashly shown the document Giles had provided. Smollet had scanned it and chuckled as he handed it back.

"A family errand. Taking you all the way to the colonies. Fancy that."

Their eyes met. Smollet knew the boy was on the run and didn't care. Joseph admired the captain's ruthless enterprise. He liked him more than ever.

Seven years wasn't so long. Not so long at all.

That thought in mind, he paused at a stair leading down to the water. He descended half way, clung to the slimy wood with one hand, and dipped his other in the salty water once, twice, three times.

He  did the same with his other hand. If there was any symbolic blood on him, it was gone now. He was making a new beginning.

He examined his dripping fingers by the light of the nearby ship's lanterns. He laughed aloud. Earlier there had been some charcoal dust still embedded beneath his nails. It too was gone.

He whistled as he stepped on to the gangplank. He went aboard Smollet's vessel with rising spirits. About to put himself in bondage for seven years, he faced the prospect with a sharp new sense of personal freedom.

In the New World things were going to be different for Joseph Mof — no, Joseph Hazard. God would make it happen. His God, growing more familiar and companionable by the hour, was a Deity who favored the brave man who didn't shrink from the hard action.

Joseph and his God had become well acquainted during the past few days. They were close now; friends.

1687: The Aristocrat

In the late spring of the following year, across the ocean in the royal colony of Carolina, someone else dreamed of making a fortune.