“And why not?”
“I hadn’t a map that showed it, sir.” Not that I would have thought to look for it if I’d had one.
“Not even a globe?” he demanded.
“No, sir, not even a globe.” At that, I felt a quick nudge of my foot under the table, and I glanced at the two boys, who were both gazing at me, but I did not know whose foot had touched mine, nor what it had meant.
Mr. Lincoln took a swallow of his coffee and rapped the table with his knuckle. The woman came and refilled his mug. “You’re a quick learner, I’ll say that for you,” he said to me. Turning to the others, he asked, “What do we know about Jamaica?”
There was a moment of silence, and then Carrot said, “I don’t know anything, sir. Except where it is.”
“I don’t know anything either, sir,” Touch said, the first words from his mouth that I had heard. His voice sounded rusty, as if from lack of use.
Mr. Lincoln turned to the globe and gave it a spin. “Here we are in England,” he said, pointing a broad finger. Then he looked closely at me. “Do you know where London is?”
“Yes, sir, I do.” I laid a finger on the globe.
“No!” he shouted. “One does nottoucha globe with what undoubtedly are greasy fingers!” He pulled out a pocket-handkerchief and rubbed my filth from the face of England.
“I’m sorry, sir,” I said.
He stared steadily at me, and I wished I could melt into my shoes, and then he said, “How far from London are we on the globe—if you can tell me without touching it?”
I looked at the globe, afraid to bring my finger close to it, and unable to understand what he was asking.
“How far?” he asked again, leaning forward. “A finger’s breadth, two fingers?”
It was a large globe, but still, England is a small country. “It’s a finger’s breadth, I think, sir,” I said.
To my great relief, Mr. Lincoln turned to Carrot. “And where is Jamaica? You said you knew that?”
“Yes, sir, I do know.” He pulled a handkerchief from his own pocket and, with it covering his hand, as he had evidently been taught to do, he turned the globe, located the place, and pointed, his finger close to but not actually touching the globe’s surface. “Here is Jamaica, sir, in the Caribbean Ocean.”
“And how far is that from us, would you think?” Mr. Lincoln asked me. “How many handspans?”
I had no idea.
“Well?”
“Would that be my handspans or yours, sir?” I asked, playing for time.
He leaned back in his chair and smiled. “It’s goodly far. Not a distance one travels on a whim. You understand that, I suppose. And what do you know of Jamaica, other than that your father has business there?”
“I know nothing of it, sir.”
“We shall have to remedy that. You see those bookshelves?” I could not have avoided seeing them; they almost completely covered the walls of the room. “You will find there books on nearly everything you might want to know, as well as many, many things you never thought to wonder. That is the purpose of a good library. You will no doubt find something there about Jamaica, and you shall report on what you have found at tea this evening. In the meantime, these two shall study with me. You are excused.”
I rose and turned, overwhelmed by the task before me. The books—shelves upon shelves of them—seemed arranged in no particular order. How would I find Jamaica in this apparent hodgepodge? I glanced back helplessly, but Mr. Lincoln and the two others had already focused their attention on the tabletop, rolling out sheets of paper that I later learned were maps, and placing little square tokens on them. In desperation, I stepped to the nearest wall and began my search. Eventually I discovered that indeed there was an order to the books—a mostly geographical one—and with that, I was able to find some likely-looking volumes and I sat down on the floor and began reading.
I was soon swept up by that far-off island, and nearly half the day passed before I realized that those at the table were not speaking English. Startled, I looked toward them: Mr. Lincoln was still in his chair, but leaning over the table, while Touch and Carrot stood at each side of him. All were gazing at the display before them, but I had no idea what they were talking about or even what language they were speaking. Curiosity got the better of me for a moment, and feeling exiled, I longed to join them, to see what was so intriguing. But I reminded myself that I had been given a different task, and this first day was the time to prove myself, so I turned back to the book in hand and did not notice anything else until Athena brought me a cheese pie and a glass of watered beer.
The fact that my meal had been brought to me made clear that I was expected to stay in place, and so I did, still feeling the exile. No one spoke to me: it was as if I were not even in the room. Remembering Mr. Lincoln’s shout not to touch the globe with possibly greasy hands, I ate cautiously, careful not to drop crumbs into my book. The day slid by, neither fast nor slow, but by the time it grew too dim in my corner to read, I had gone through the Jamaica parts of six books. To tell the truth, at that point I knew more about that island country than I did about England.
At the end of the day, Mr. Lincoln said, “Well?” and I knew by his raised voice that he was speaking to me. “What have you to tell us?”
He did not invite me to the table, so I stayed where I was. “Jamaica was discovered on May 5, 1494, by Christopher Columbus—”
“Discovered?” Mr. Lincoln interrupted. “Discovered?Had no one else ever been there before? Was it vacant of any population?”
