Caution to the Wind Read Online Free PDF Page B

to mind being Neil’s captive. With the passing of the days, he and Neil spent more time together than apart.
    Buck Smythe returned to other duties, and Captain Stoakes joined Neil at the bulwark. Neil spoke, the snapping of the sails in the crisp breeze drowning out his words, but the left corner of his mouth turned up in a half-smile, the way it always did when he was up to something. She held her breath when Neil balanced against the bulwark, hands gripping the gunwale, and leaned forward until his toes just skirted the deck. The captain grasped the back of Neil’s breeches with one hand when the weight of her brother’s shoulders threatened to topple him overboard.
    Amanda sat back, resting her backside on her bare heels. What could he be doing?
    The captain yanked Neil back aboard ship, but instead of giving him the scolding she expected, he took his turn at the bulwark. To the delight of the grinning boy, the captain let lose a straight stream of spittle aimed at something out of sight in the water.
    Amanda’s jaw dropped. Neil had challenged the captain to a spitting contest and he had complied!
    A wave of malodorous fumes washed over the deck, yet the captain and Neil remained bent over the bulwark, seemingly oblivious to the odor. Nose burning and eyes stinging, she peered over their posteriors at the horizon, half-expecting to see another ship aflame on the open sea. Nothing but blue sky and shimmering water.
    She twisted about to look behind her. What was wrong with the captain and this crew? Could she be the only one who smelled it? She tossed her stone into her bucket with a sigh. Placing damp, red hands on her knees, she pushed herself up and strode to where Bull leaned against a railing, whittling wood chips onto the spotless deck.
    “Excuse me, Bull, but it smells like something is burning.”
    “Sure is,” Bull replied without missing a beat with his knife.
    Amanda watched him whittle and wondered if he planned to make a toothpick. With each stroke of his blade, he tore away great chunks of the narrow strip of wood.
    “Well, isn’t that a bit of a problem on a boat?”
    “Ship,” Bull scowled at the abused wood in his hands, turned it over and started anew on the other side.
    “Excuse me?”
    “This here’s a ship. That there’s a boat.” He jabbed his knife at one of the small, tarpaulin-shrouded shapes hanging suspended at the rail.
    Amanda set her hands on her hips. She learned that lesson her second day aboard ship when she called the Amanda a boat in front of the captain. An eerie silence fell over the deck in the few moments before the captain threatened to toss her overboard if she ever insulted “his Amanda ” again.
    “As I was saying, isn’t that a problem on a ship ?” She cringed, realizing how petulant she sounded. She had seen ship’s boys have their ears cuffed for far less.
    To her relief, Bull chuckled. “Not unless you’re the captain.”
    Amanda pursed her lips. What kind of insane logic was that? Only the captain should be worried about whether the ship was aflame? She waited for him to add more, but Bull continued his assault on the wood.
    Amanda looked about. Bull may not be worried about a fire on the ship, but her gut told her something was amiss. She hurried back to her bucket, pulled out the holystone and dropped it with a dull thud onto the deck. Then she raised her chin and sniffed the air.
    A long-forgotten memory of Neil making his own breakfast surfaced. Burnt eggs .
    She picked up her bucket and headed toward the hatch leading below deck. Struggling to maintain her balance, water sloshing, Amanda felt her way down the narrow steps with bare feet. Once her feet met the solid planks of the floor below, she breathed a sigh of relief and looked about, her eyes adjusting to the relative darkness.
    The sharp smell surrounded her now, filling her nose and burning the back of her throat. Somewhere in the dark, a man cursed. At least she believed it to be a curse.