The horses and the rocks together made the wagon rumble and bounce around.
“Here’s the next guide!” shouted Ross. Ross was Quintus’ guide at the time. Allan gave the custody of Quintus to Ross about one hundred sixty days into the journey.
The wagon jerked to a stop, flinging its contents forward. Multiple items crashed into the the canvas walls of wagon, creating a ruckus. The fabric bent and folded, but wasn’t permanently damaged.
“Hey,” said a voice. “I’m here! I be waitin’ for a great long while now.” “Tha’s Scott,” Ross explained. Quintus jumped off Ross’ wagon, and climbed onto Scott’s. He says goodbye to Ross, and thanked him. Quintus fished some money out of his coin pouch on his belt and handed it to Scott. “Nine thousan’ miles…show more content… As their journey continued, they became good friends. Together, they see the horrors of the trade. Quintus also tried to campaign for Ayo’s freedom, but failed. Late on the night of March 23, 1775, a storm struck near the Boston Harbor. The water churned like a boiling mass in a pot, waves crashed onto the boat. Logs splintered, and people thought deathly thoughts. The hull of the ship is cracked, and water spilled in. The boat started to sink beneath the harbor. African women, children, and men rushed up from belowdecks. The cries of trembling infants weren’t heard over the storm. Quintus heard no screams. He thought about the silent deaths of many people that night. It was outrageous.
Quintus jumped off of the ship. The cold water absorbed him. He thrashed his limbs in a violent swim. His arms and legs ached. The waves seemed to be prompting him, “Come… come… you will be safe, you don’t need to swim…”
He refused. Quintus kept swimming, making it through the savage sea. He bumped into bits and pieces of the ship. He saw people under the waves, fighting for their lives.
Quintus saw someone alive and conscious go under. He then realized the people would prefer that over slavery.
Quintus’ feet hit land. He climbed onto…show more content… Quintus was watching the British redcoats march down the street, their firearms ready to confront any protesters. A group of men gathered at the far edge of a field. They hold their muskets ready. A redcoat frowned.
“Throw down your arms! Ye villains, ye rebels!” shouted a British major. Firing started. People fell. It was seven hundred British troops verses seventy-seven untrained, volunteer men. The odds were in all ways against the Americans. Eventually, the British men retreated and were driven out by the militiamen. The Americans managed to pull through. It was the first victory in a new war. The American Revolution.
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After eight years of living through the war as a spy, Quintus emerged from the Revolution alive. He embarked on another journey across the Atlantic Ocean. The ocean looked like it was a jewel. Light reflected off its surface, creating a constant eye-shattering gleam. The men pear at the horizon, trying to see the first glimpse of land. A boy on the crow’s nest shouted, “Land ho!” The men screamed. They hugged each other, and were all relieved. As the British men see the people on the shore, they screamed in joy and elation. Euphoria itself seemed to be shimmering in the air. Crowds of British people flocked around the water, and Quintus saw a familiar face.
