Cast Off Read Online Free PDF

remove the sailcloth too? Had I been chewed and pecked and risked breaking my neck only to be sent back to Father?
    The cloth began to slip off.
    â€œLeave it, mate,” O’Brian said to his companion. “Them biddies is already in a fit.”
    I listened to the sound of their footsteps fade before I wriggled out from the cages and lifted the sailcloth over my head.
    Oh.
    Below, a harbor full of boats rocked in the water, aglow by their lanterns, whilst above, the Lion ’s three masts stretched until their tops vanished into the dark sky. Ropes webbed the whole of the ship, and her sails were tightly rolled, ready to unfurl at the captain’s command. From my place at the highest point at the very back of the ship, I could see deck upon deck upon deck laid out before me, five in all. Even I knew a vessel this size was no local cat ship meant to ferry Delft cheese to Rotterdam. Nor a frigate carrying goods to ports in Hamburg and Bruges. Nay, this great ship was headed across oceans and around continents to one of dozens of ports in the Indies and beyond.
    She’d be gone for years.

7
    I needed a place to hide forthwith.
    I ran down the decks toward the front of the ship and opened the first hatch I saw. Finding no one, I climbed down the ladder into a large cabin strung with hammocks. Cannons lined the outside walls and small sea chests covered the floors. No place for me here. A door at the end of the room led to a cabin that must have belonged to the carpenter—pieces of wood, tools, and sawdust were strewn about. It looked as though someone had left mid-task and could return any moment. Unwise to stay, then. I pressed my ear to the door at the far end of the cabin. Hearing nothing, I lifted the latch and went inside.
    This cabin had a bunk built into one wall and a porthole in another. A storage locker and a seaman’s chest nearly filled the space. Whoever lived here was good with a whittling knife. Some dice and a little whale lay on the bed.
    Footsteps behind me and the scrape of a chair. The carpenter had returned, and me with no way out, nothing to hide under, nowhere to go. I was too big for the seaman’s chest, and, even if I could fit through the porthole, I’d no wish to drown.
    That left the storage locker. I lifted the top and found it half full of neatly coiled rope. I looked down at my quilted robe, my layers of skirts and petticoats. Was there room enough?
    I lowered myself on top of the rope and pulled my legs into the locker. It was like sitting on a bed of hairy snakes. Even through all my clothes, I felt the prick of sharp fibers. But I’d have to live with the itch if I was to live at all. I stuffed my skirts around my legs, wedging them into corners. Tucked in tight, I couldn’t move my legs more than an inch or two.
    I lay down and closed the top of the locker, shutting out even the merest scrap of light. My head and feet just touched the ends; my nose was perhaps three inches from the lid.
    It was like being buried alive.
    I waited, listening for footsteps, for the opening of a door. My heart grew louder and louder until I could feel it beating in my ears.
    My chest grew tight. I couldn’t take a full breath. I panted small quick puffs of hot air. I had to get out!
    But just as I pressed my hands on the lid, I heard voices. I froze. Suddenly the prospect of hiding on a pile of rope in a storage locker didn’t seem as bad as the prospect of being found.
    I lifted the lid an inch and wadded a corner of my robe in the crack to let in some air. Out of the corner of my eye I could even see the porthole.
    The voices were singing.
    The locker might do for a short while, but I couldn’t stay here for the journey. Whoever lived in this cabin would want his rope, and I’d want things like food and water.
    Food. When had I last eaten? Some bread and cheese for a midday meal. My stomach groaned loud enough to be heard in the cabin, had anyone been