Coquitlam Public Library

Johnny Tremain

eng

no index present

fiction

Johnny Tremain

electronic resource

dictionaries

Johnny Tremain, winner of the 1944 Newbery Medal, is one of the finest historical novels ever written for children. As compelling today as it was fifty years ago, to read this riveting novel is to live through the defining events leading up to the American Revolutionary War. Fourteen-year old Johnny Tremain, an apprentice silversmith with a bright future ahead of him, injures his hand in a tragic accident, forcing him to look for other work. In his new job as a horse-boy, riding for the patriotic newspaper, the Boston Observer, and as a messenger for the Sons of Liberty, he encounters John Hancock, Samuel Adams, and Dr. Joseph Warren. Soon Johnny is involved in the pivotal events shaping the American Revolution from the Boston Tea Party to the first shots fired at Lexington. Powerful illustrations by American artist Michael McCurdy, bring to life Esther Forbes' quintessential novel of the American Revolution. The great events of Revolutionary Boston as seen through the shrewd eyes of an observant fourteen-year-old boy. I. Up and About On rocky islands gulls woke. Time to be about their business. Silently they floated in on the town, but when their icy eyes sighted the first dead fish, first bits of garbage about the ships and wharves, they began to scream and quarrel. The cocks in Boston back yards had long before cried the coming of day. Now the hens were also awake, scratching, clucking, laying eggs. Cats in malt houses, granaries, ship holds, mansions, and hovels caught a last mouse, settled down to wash their fur and sleep. Cats did not work by day. In stables horses shook their halters and whinnied. In barns cows lowed to be milked. Boston slowly opened its eyes, stretched, and woke. The sun struck in horizontally from the east, flashing upon weathervanes-brass cocks and arrows, here a glass-eyed Indian, there a copper grasshopper-and the bells in the steeples cling-clanged, telling the people it was time to be up and about. In hundreds of houses sleepy women woke sleepier children. Get up and to work. Ephraim, get to the pump, fetch Mother water. Ann, get to the barn, milk the cow and drive her to the Common. Start the fire, Silas. Put on a clean shirt, James. Dolly, if you aren't up before I count ten . . . And so, in a crooked little house at the head of Hancock's Wharf on crowded Fish Street, Mrs. Lapham stood at the foot of a ladder leading to the attic where her father-in-law's apprentices slept. These boys were luckier than most apprentices. Their master was too feeble to climb ladders; the middle-aged mistress too stout. It was only her bellows that could penetrate to their quarters-not her heavy hands. 'Boys?' No answer. 'Dove?' 'Coming, ma'am.' Dove turned over for one more snooze. Frustrated, she shook the ladder she was too heavy to climb. She wished she could shake 'them limbs of Satan.' 'Dusty Miller-let me hear your voice.' 'Here it is,' piped Dusty pertly. Her voice changed to pleading. 'Johnny-you get them two lazy lug-a-beds up. Get them down here. You pull that worthless Dove right out'er bed. You give Dusty a kick for me. I'm waiting for him to fetch fresh water so's I can get on with breakfast.' Johnny Tremain was on his feet. He did not bother to answer his mistress. He turned to the fat, pale, almost white-haired boy still wallowing in bed. 'Hear that, Dove?' 'Oh-you... leave me lay, can't you?' Grumbling, he swung his legs out of the bed the three boys shared

adult