Black Duck

by Janet Taylor Lisle Narrated by David Ackroyd

Overview

When Ruben and Jeddy find a dead body in an evening suit washed up on the shore, they are certain it has to do with smuggling liquor. It is spring 1929, Prohibition is in full swing, and many in their community are involved.

Soon the boys, along with Jeddy's strong-willed sister, Marina, are drawn in, suspected by rival bootlegging gangs of taking something crucial off the dead man. Then Ruben meets the daring captain of the Black Duck, the most elusive smuggling craft of them all, and it isn't long before he's keeping dangerous company.

Inspired by very real accounts of the Black Duck, a legendary rum-running boat that worked the New England shores during the era, Newbery Honor winner Janet Taylor Lisle has produced a colorful, original work of historical fiction.

Editorial Reviews

Publishers Weekly

The title of Lisle's (The Art of Keeping Cool) suspenseful novel refers to a rumrunner-one of the boats used during Prohibition to smuggle outlawed liquor into the U.S. Readers will likely look past the awkward frame story-a contemporary student interviews Ruben Hart, who was a child during Prohibition-as they sink deeper into Ruben's story. In the spring of 1929, while Ruben and his friend Jeddy look for lobster pots, they come across a man's body washed up on the beach, elegantly dressed, with a bullet hole through his neck. They go back to report it, but when the police arrive, the body has vanished. The situation grows complicated: Jeddy's father is chief of police, Ruben's father works for general store owner Mr. Riley, whom Ruben suspects may be involved in the bootlegging, and an old fisherman living in a seaside shack is roughed up as some men come looking for a mysterious "ticket." Much is at stake, as many locals supplement their livelihood by unloading the rumrunners, and townsfolk suspect there is a traitor in their midst. This is a gripping tale of families and friendships stretched to the breaking point as the community around Rhode Island's Narragansett Bay is caught in the escalating conflict between rival gangs. Faux reproductions of period articles anchor the narrative and move the story along. Even though readers know from the get-go that the Black Duck will come to no good, they will eagerly turn the pages to find out how. Ages 10-up. (May) Copyright 2006 Reed Business Information.

School Library Journal

Gr 7-10-A teen's determination to be published in the local paper leads him to Ruben Hart's front door and an unlikely friendship. The elderly man has a mysterious past, and David soon becomes wrapped up in his tale of how he played an integral part in the adventures surrounding the legendary rum-running ship called the Black Duck. In 1929, in Newport, RI, Ruben and his friend Jeddy, 14, found a body on the beach. By the time they convinced the authorities to check it out, the dead man had disappeared, and soon both the New York and Boston mobs were after Ruben. The author explores the subject of Prohibition as well as various underlying social themes. She shows the difficulty of staying honest when everyone else is breaking the law and when local authorities all seem to be in on the action. Another issue involves the Coast Guard's shooting of three men believed to be rumrunners, and whether the murders were justified. Readers will be inspired by both Ruben's and David's will to succeed when faced with an overwhelming challenge and how they stand by their convictions in doing so. The decade-alternating chapters may be a bit challenging for reluctant readers, but the riveting mystery and nonstop adventure will provide enough incentive for older readers.-Kimberly Monaghan, formerly at Vernon Area Public Library, IL Copyright 2006 Reed Business Information.

Kirkus Reviews

Two boys find a man's body on the shore. He's barefoot but dressed in a suit and has a bullet hole in his neck. When they bring help, the body has disappeared. It's 1929, along the coast of Rhode Island, a site of rum-running during the Prohibition era. Bootleggers, modern-day pirates, locals cheering on the bad guys-it's the stuff of fine storytelling. Based on the true story of the Black Duck, a fast, hard-to-catch boat that ran circles around the Coast Guard, Lisle's tale is told through an interview conducted by young David Peterson of old Ruben Hart, rumored to have been a rumrunner. The interview scenes interrupt the pace and drama of the narrative, but readers will enjoy the unfolding story as David hears it. Like The Art of Keeping Cool (2000), also set in Lisle's home state of Rhode Island, this is solid historical fiction. Together, they make a nice one-two punch-one about the Prohibition era, one of the home front during WWII. (author's note) (Fiction. 10+)

From the Publisher

Lots of adventure and mystery. (VOYA)

Riveting mystery and nonstop adventure. (School Library Journal)

The setting's cinematic detail brings the exhilarating action close, and readers will easily see themselves in young Ruben. (Booklist)

DEC 07/JAN 08 - AudioFile

In 1929, a rum-running boat called the Black Duck lost most of its crew to an altercation with the Coast Guard. Janet Taylor Lisle uses this incident as the inspiration for this story of life in a small Rhode Island town in the midst of Prohibition and the friendship of two 14-year old boys, Ruben and Jeddy. Years later, 14-year-old David interviews Ruben in hopes of writing a story for the newspaper. David Ackroyd does a superb job of narration. His wonderful gravelly voice is perfect for the spirited elderly Ruben reeling off tales. Ackroyd affects an eager and appealing quality for all the teenagers in the story, including the female characters. BLACK DUCK is marvelous fun for all ages. A.B. © AudioFile 2007, Portland, Maine

Product Details

BN ID:	2940171990084
Publisher:	Penguin Random House
Publication date:	04/10/2007
Edition description:	Unabridged

Read an Excerpt

The Muffled Engine

I was in a black mood when I left the store that afternoon, angry at Marina and sore from unloading stock all day. If I'd been smart, I would have headed straight back to my house and stayed put. But my mother was there, waiting like a broody hen, ready to ask how my day had gone.

I wheeled my bike into the street and pedalled away, feeling his cool gaze on my back.

A group of younger boys was in the field beyond the school whacking a baseball around and whooping it up. They'd been in the store buying sodas earlier, where they'd been warned to keep their voices down and wait their turn at the counter. I knew every one of them by name, such is the closeness of a small town, and now, hearing the crack of the ball on the bat, and their shouts, a darker feeling swept over me.

I was trapped in this place. While Marina visited Harveston and Boston, meeting up with the world, I hauled pickle barrels in Riley's back room, where not even my father looked in on me anymore. He'd given up trying to make me into something he could like.

I set out toward the back country, down a road I'd seldom biked which wound away from the sea, past rocky farmland and shrub-clogged forests. The November daylight began to fade and still I went on, furiously at times, suddenly in a rage that even one-eyed Tom Morrison was no longer specially mine. He was Billy Brady's friend, and Billy's father's before that. The free life he led came out of weakness and retreat, not anything strong he could pass on to me. He was as likely as anyone to bend before the wind.

I rode on through the darkening landscape. Over an hour passed before I thought of going back. My legs had begun to ache. The sun was down by then, and the road dim. An eerie silence rose on all sides and I was suddenly aware that I was far, far out in the country. I was turning to head home when the sound of tires came from the bend ahead. I flicked on my bicycle lamp and drew to the side.

The vehicle, driving without headlights, rode toward me with a ghostly quiet. As it passed, I recognized the whir of a muffled engine and glanced back over my shoulder. It was a Ford coup, one tail-light out.

The vehicle braked, stopped, and began to reverse direction. A moment later the car came up in back of me and I squeezed over a second time to let it by. But it hung back and, little by little, moved up closer until I felt the heat of the motor on my legs.

"Come ahead!" I yelled, gesturing for the driver to go past. He would not. When I looked back to see what the trouble was, a face pushed up close to the windshield and broke into a toothy grin.

Fear spiked through me. Even so, I couldn't believe that anyone could mean me harm. A game is what I thought, and for another hundred yards, I played my part by riding as far to the left-hand side as possible without going in the woods. Finally, with a roar, the big roadster pulled out to pass and I thought I'd be left in peace. But that was not to be. With stealthy calm, the vehicle moved up until the broad side windows were abreast of me. Out of the corner of one eye, I saw faces through the glass.

"Hey! Give me some room!" I called out.

There was no response, and in the next second I saw that I wasn't to be allowed even my slim edge of road. The side of the car moved closer until, with a last impatient swerve, it struck me. I lost my balance and went flying into the woods where a darkness darker than night dropped over me.

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