Cast Off Read Online Free PDF Page B

there.
    I yawned. The voices were growing fainter. When they faded altogether, I’d find a better place to hide.

    I slept.
    How could I have slept? I slept through the dark, quiet portion of the night when I might have saved myself from starvation or discovery, and woke when it was light and what sounded like a thousand men were hammering every inch of the ship.
    A thousand men or no, I couldn’t ignore my bladder a minute longer. The sailor who lived in this cabin had come and gone. Perhaps I could do the same.
    I climbed out of the locker and made use of my host’s slop bucket, emptying the contents out the porthole. Then I pressed my ear to the door. Not a sound. Cracked it open—and found a red-haired man with his back to me tying on a belt strung with tools. No way out now.
    I peeled my sweat-sticky shift from my back, eyed the locker with dread.
    It occurred to me that were I a twelve-year-old boy instead of a twelve-year-old girl, I could simply lie about being an orphan and join the ship as crew. Instead, I sealed myself away again and waited for night to fall.

8
    â€œLooks nice and smooth, Pa.”
    â€™Twas morning and we was in our cabin, me cutting legs and Pa sanding the frame for a new grindstone for the gunroom—the old one got busted the night before when the midshipmen played at bowling with cannonballs and handspikes. Pa’d polished the same spot for so long, I started to think there’d be nothing left to hold the stone.
    â€œPa?”
    â€œHmm?” he answered. A curl of pinewood was stuck in his red hair. It looked like a horn, but I didn’t think he’d appreciate me saying it.
    â€œEverything all right?”
    He stopped and looked at me. “Sit down, son.”
    I pulled up a chair, and he pulled up another.
    â€œThere’s something you should know.”
    In my experience, nothing good ever came after those words. “Your papa’s leaving.” “Your ma is dead.” “ Mestizos stay on the ship.” What now?
    â€œLast time we was in Amsterdam, I applied for a certificate of legitimacy for you.”
    â€œA certificate—?”
    â€œCertificate of legitimacy. If it passes, you’ll be legally known as my son. You’d be Dutch.”
    You’d be Dutch . Hope caught fire in me. With this certificate, I could walk the streets of Amsterdam. I could get married. Own a house. I’d be free . ’Twas the first time good news had come after those words. So why did Pa look like there was bad news coming?
    â€œThere’s more, isn’t there?”
    â€œSaw the lawyer last night. We got turned down.”
    So much for hope.
    â€œBut there may be something we can do.”
    â€œWhat’s that, Pa?” I was asking ’cause I knew he wanted me to, not because I thought anything we did would make a difference, ’cause I didn’t.
    â€œThe lawyer—Boone’s his name—he said we can try again, and if we got a letter from someone important to the VOC, it would maybe carry weight with the courts.”
    â€œWhat kind of letter?”
    â€œOne that says this important fellow knows us and thinks it’s a good idea for you to be my lawful son.”
    â€œYou have someone in mind?”
    â€œAye. Captain De Ridder.”
    Just like I thought. Pa was going to ask for help from the cove who hadn’t said a word to me since “Make sure you don’t get off this ship north of Africa.” I wasn’t even sure he knew my name.
    â€œYou think he’ll say yes?” I asked.
    â€œNot if we ask him now, no,” Pa admitted. “You’ll have to prove yourself to him, Brammetje. Do the work of two men, day and night. You do that and he’ll write the letter.”
    I wasn’t so sure Pa was right, but that hope was still in me. So small I could hardly feel it, but there. If work was the only way to fan that flame, I’d work.
    I started in right