Carry On, Mr. Bowditch [antikvár]

THE GOOD-LUCK SPELL Nat lay very still in the dark, trying to stay awake until his big brother, Hab, went to sleep. Nat wasn't quite sure, but he thought a good-luck spell worked better if you kept it secret. He stared out the window and watched the April breeze chase clouds across the stars. His eyelids sagged. That wouldn't do! He must stay awake to work his spell. His family needed good luck. Why did they have so much bad luck? Was it because Father had lost his ship? Or was it because of the war? Ever since Nat could remember, the war had been going on. How long had it been? He counted back on his fingers to 1775. Four years since the war started. His eyelids sagged again. He squinched them shut and opened them. Was Hab asleep now? Nat whispered, "Hab?"