Caution to the Wind Read Online Free PDF Page A

even a hint of coastline. Perhaps he had been mistaken.
    The ship rolled on a wave, and she placed a palm flat against her stomach to quell the nausea. According to Bull, the small bouts of sickness she suffered were less severe than those that afflicted most new recruits. She had to ask him to repeat his small piece of wisdom because her head had been in a bucket at the time.
    He suggested spending time in the open air of the main deck and attending to her duties. She took a recuperating breath and admitted his self-serving advice worked. That and the fair weather for which her more seasoned shipmates assured her she should be grateful.
    Nausea past, Amanda looked about, letting her senses steep in the beauty of her surroundings. At sea, the sky looked bluer, the ocean a deep aquamarine, and the snow-white clouds close enough to touch. She raised a slender hand to the sky so that it overlaid an ephemeral ball of fluff. She curled her fingers, one by one, into a fist, and imagined capturing the cool, cottony mist in the palm of her hand.
    Amanda closed her eyes and drew a breath between parted lips. She savored the air drifting over her tongue and filling her lungs. It was salty, almost sweet. To her, it tasted like freedom. Turning her face skyward once more, she let her skin drink in the sun’s heated caress. Most women her age went to extreme measures: parasols, creams, bonnets, anything to avoid the sun’s rays. That thought brought a momentary twinge of guilt. Although she hadn’t seen herself in a mirror for days, she did not doubt the number of freckles spattered across her nose and cheeks had grown. Her face probably resembled a speckled hen.
    What did the captain think of her freckles? The question popped into her mind, unbidden, and it startled her. He wouldn’t notice her freckles anymore than he would notice those that made the face of Jimmy, another one of her young shipmates, look like a mass of polka dots. He wouldn’t notice because the captain still saw her for what she pretended to be. For reasons she couldn’t fathom, or didn’t want to, that she could so easily deceive the captain bothered her. Was she so plain that a man who could sight a sail two miles out to sea against a backdrop of white clouds couldn’t see what was right in front of him?
    “Oh, who cares!” She returned her focus to the deck, scrubbing with renewed vigor and watching the water-darkened boards dry to the color of old bones.
    She loved the sea. It didn’t demand she be beautiful, or for that matter, even pretty. At sea, she had more freedom to be herself than she had ever had in her entire life. The irony of it made her lips curl. For the past two weeks, she had pretended to be something she was most definitely not.
    Perhaps her love for life on the ocean was what had surprised her most. Despite the short bouts of seasickness, she hadn’t expected to look forward to each new day with such anticipation, such joy. Every morning, when Bull called “out or down” in his most menacing voice, she was among the first to have her hammock rolled and stowed and be on deck ready for whatever tasks awaited her. She enjoyed working side by side with her shipmates, all of whom were exceedingly polite men, despite their rough edges.
    But more than anything, she loved watching the captain go about his duties. Not that he did much. In fact, most of the time, he wasn’t even on deck. When he did emerge from his quarters, it was usually to walk amongst the men, inspect their work, say a few words to Buck or Bull, then take a position at the rear of his ship and stare out at the ocean. In that position, she could let her gaze linger on him as long as she liked.
    Though she scrubbed at the deck, the memory of him filled her vision. He stood with feet planted shoulder width apart. Beneath his tight fitting breeches, his muscles danced as he adjusted to the swell of the ocean. His golden eyes scanned the horizon. She liked it best when he left