

A rough-looking porter, laboring behind, carried my trunk upon his back. Grummage, who had already begun to move on. In a flutter of nervousness I identified my trunk, threw my arms about Miss Emerson (my sweet companion for the trip down), and bid her a tearful farewell. Next, please oblige me by following, and everything shall be as it is meant to be." "Now, Miss Doyle, if you would be so good as to indicate which is your trunk, I have a man here to carry it. "Pleased to meet you," I said, dipping a curtsy. "Miss Doyle?" he said as I stepped from the Liverpool coach. His eyes might have been those of a dead fish. His somber, sallow face registered no emotion. Grummage was dressed in a black frock coat with a stove pipe hat that added to his considerable height. He was also to meet me when I came down from school on the coach, then see me safely stowed aboard the ship that my father had previously selected. It was he my father delegated to make the final arrangements for my passage to America. Grummage was, like my father, a gentleman. Though a business associate of my father, Mr. |a Self-perception in adolescence |v Juvenile fiction.Just before dusk in the late afternoon of June 16, 1832, 1 found myself walking along the crowded docks of Liverpool, England, following a man by the name of Grummage. |a Includes author information and Q&A, instructions for drawing a ship, a recipe, aids to identifying knots, and hints on keeping a journal. |a As the lone "young lady" on a transatlantic voyage in 1832, Charlotte learns that the captain is murderous and the crew rebellious. |a Originally published: New York : Orchard Books, 1990. Accused and convicted of murder, Charlotte decides to reveal what really happened aboard the Seahawk |a Thirteen-year-old Charlotte Doyle, the only passenger, and the only female aboard a seedy ship on a transatlantic voyage from England to America in 1832, becomes caught up in a feud between the murderous captain and his mutinous crew.

|a The true confessions of Charlotte Doyle / |c Avi.
