Read Online A Light For My Love by Alexis Harrington - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Alexis Harrington
Tags: Historical, seafaring
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lines, varnish her.
Take a look at her rudder, too."
Monroe nodded and walked away to schedule the
work.
Jake crossed under the bowsprit and glanced
up at the figurehead. It was a beautifully carved woman with wheat
gold hair, blushing cheeks, and huge blue eyes. Her arms were
outstretched, as if to embrace the sea ahead of her and guide the
ship through the waves. Her white robes draped as though windblown,
but, in keeping with nautical custom, she was bare-breasted due to
the belief that such display had the power to quiet storms.
His gaze climbed, following the rigging to
the mastheads. They rose to such a dizzying height, they seemed to
scrape the bellies of the heavy gray clouds overhead. The ship was
a beauty, all right, with flowing lines and graceful curves, and
after sailing her for four years, he knew every inch of her.
Since that sultry night in Charleston, he had
marveled again and again at his incredible good luck—and profound
idiocy—to have wagered everything he owned on a pair of threes and
won. He'd wanted this ship. His hands had itched to take her wheel
without the bloodshot, beady-eyed stare of Captain Josiah Marshall
on the back of his neck. The only thing Jake had had going for him
in that card game, besides rock-steady nerves, was a clear head.
Captain Marshall had possessed neither. Marshall had bid "good
riddance to the bitch" as he signed his ownership over to Jake with
a vodka-palsied signature, vowing that Jake would never know a
moment's peace as her captain.
Jake had left Charleston the very next
morning with only one thought on his mind: he would set sail back
to Astoria, triumphant. He'd stopped for nothing, knowing there
would be plenty of time to see to the ship's repair after he got
there.
Marshall had been wrong. Jake knew as much
contentment as any man could who wandered the world. The Katherine Kirkland had asked nothing of him but reasonable
care and a sure hand on the wheel. In return, she lulled him to
sleep in his bunk on calm seas and offered cover during storms. If
she hadn't satisfied his every desire, she came close, and that was
about all a person could expect in life.
He started to walk back down the dock and
caught the pungent odor of the salmon cannery up ahead on his
right. A young man stood at the edge of the dock, wearily dumping
barrels of chum into the river while gulls hovered overhead and
dove into the water in pursuit of the fish remains. A half-dozen
skinny wharf cats twined around his legs seductively, meowing and
spitting at each other in competition for the scraps.
That easily could have been him mucking out a
cannery in rubber boots and a butcher's apron, Jake thought. It
probably would have been, too, considering the sparks that flew
between Pop and him. He would have had to find other work away from
the fishing boat, and for someone like him there weren't many
options. Fishing and the ocean were the only two things he'd known,
so he probably would have taken a job at one of the salmon packers.
And once the smell of fish got on a person, nothing could budge it.
It clung to hands, clothes, and dreams. Jake had grown up with
enough people who labored in the canneries to know that. The work
he'd done over the past several years had been just as hard, at
times more dangerous by a hundredfold. But he knew he'd had the
better life.
He turned to look at the Katherine one
more time. Pride rose in him. He was certain he'd made the right
decision in leaving Astoria all those years ago, although he hadn't
expected to be gone so long. This ship epitomized recognition,
success, respect—the attainment of everything he'd only dreamed of
so long ago. Well, almost everything.
*~*~*
China stood on the back porch and peeked
through the window in the kitchen door, hoping to sneak in
unnoticed. It would be impossible to explain to anyone what she was
doing outside in the rain with a cold, untouched meal in her hands.
Seeing no one, she balanced the tray against her hip
Take a look at her rudder, too."
Monroe nodded and walked away to schedule the
work.
Jake crossed under the bowsprit and glanced
up at the figurehead. It was a beautifully carved woman with wheat
gold hair, blushing cheeks, and huge blue eyes. Her arms were
outstretched, as if to embrace the sea ahead of her and guide the
ship through the waves. Her white robes draped as though windblown,
but, in keeping with nautical custom, she was bare-breasted due to
the belief that such display had the power to quiet storms.
His gaze climbed, following the rigging to
the mastheads. They rose to such a dizzying height, they seemed to
scrape the bellies of the heavy gray clouds overhead. The ship was
a beauty, all right, with flowing lines and graceful curves, and
after sailing her for four years, he knew every inch of her.
Since that sultry night in Charleston, he had
marveled again and again at his incredible good luck—and profound
idiocy—to have wagered everything he owned on a pair of threes and
won. He'd wanted this ship. His hands had itched to take her wheel
without the bloodshot, beady-eyed stare of Captain Josiah Marshall
on the back of his neck. The only thing Jake had had going for him
in that card game, besides rock-steady nerves, was a clear head.
Captain Marshall had possessed neither. Marshall had bid "good
riddance to the bitch" as he signed his ownership over to Jake with
a vodka-palsied signature, vowing that Jake would never know a
moment's peace as her captain.
Jake had left Charleston the very next
morning with only one thought on his mind: he would set sail back
to Astoria, triumphant. He'd stopped for nothing, knowing there
would be plenty of time to see to the ship's repair after he got
there.
Marshall had been wrong. Jake knew as much
contentment as any man could who wandered the world. The Katherine Kirkland had asked nothing of him but reasonable
care and a sure hand on the wheel. In return, she lulled him to
sleep in his bunk on calm seas and offered cover during storms. If
she hadn't satisfied his every desire, she came close, and that was
about all a person could expect in life.
He started to walk back down the dock and
caught the pungent odor of the salmon cannery up ahead on his
right. A young man stood at the edge of the dock, wearily dumping
barrels of chum into the river while gulls hovered overhead and
dove into the water in pursuit of the fish remains. A half-dozen
skinny wharf cats twined around his legs seductively, meowing and
spitting at each other in competition for the scraps.
That easily could have been him mucking out a
cannery in rubber boots and a butcher's apron, Jake thought. It
probably would have been, too, considering the sparks that flew
between Pop and him. He would have had to find other work away from
the fishing boat, and for someone like him there weren't many
options. Fishing and the ocean were the only two things he'd known,
so he probably would have taken a job at one of the salmon packers.
And once the smell of fish got on a person, nothing could budge it.
It clung to hands, clothes, and dreams. Jake had grown up with
enough people who labored in the canneries to know that. The work
he'd done over the past several years had been just as hard, at
times more dangerous by a hundredfold. But he knew he'd had the
better life.
He turned to look at the Katherine one
more time. Pride rose in him. He was certain he'd made the right
decision in leaving Astoria all those years ago, although he hadn't
expected to be gone so long. This ship epitomized recognition,
success, respect—the attainment of everything he'd only dreamed of
so long ago. Well, almost everything.
*~*~*
China stood on the back porch and peeked
through the window in the kitchen door, hoping to sneak in
unnoticed. It would be impossible to explain to anyone what she was
doing outside in the rain with a cold, untouched meal in her hands.
Seeing no one, she balanced the tray against her hip
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