Read Online By The Sea, Book Three: Laura by Antoinette Stockenberg - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Antoinette Stockenberg
Tags: adventure, Great Depression, hurricane, downton abbey, sailing adventure, newport rhode island, schooner, amreicas cup
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"You bet I have," he agreed, somewhat
mollified.
"Do I get a hug before you go?" asked Laura,
holding her arms out to him.
A little stiffly, Neil allowed his mother to
embrace him. She watched him scramble over the side for his dory,
her little stripling with the sweet high voice of a child and the
tortured thought processes of a Supreme Court justice. If only he
didn't weigh every little thing. Ah, well, she thought,
turning back to the torn gollywobbler, it's just a
stage.
The day passed for Laura like all the others
that week—with one eye on the repair, one eye on the list. The only
interruption came in the form of a steady stream of applicants for
the job of first mate. By noon Laura had interviewed and quickly
dismissed four of them: an unemployed baker, a millworker eager to
see the world, and two ordinary seamen. As usual, no one had
bothered to be guided by her list of qualifications. Not one among
them had ever been aboard a sailing vessel.
"I'm worried," Laura admitted to Billy after
the last one had been sent politely packing. "Who in the world
understands coasting schooners nowadays? What if we can't find
anyone?"
"Then you and me'll do it. Didn't we sail
the Ginny ourselves, just about, when Sam busted his wrist
that time?"
"That was a downhill run in twelve knots of
wind from Gloucester to Camden, Billy. I could've done that trip myself."
"See? What'd I tell you?" He beamed
encouragingly.
"Billy—oh, Billy. Never mind." Laura tweaked
his cap down over his eyes and took her lunch, a thick slab of
bread smeared over with pork fat, over to a cool spot in the shadow
of the foremast.
Before she sat down for her precious midday
break, she scanned Brenton Cove for Neil's dory; he'd been hovering
much too close to the Rainbow, she'd noticed earlier. Sam
had given explicit directions that his family were to keep their
distance and let him get on with his training. Laura had understood
Sam's attitude completely; but Neil, as he always did, saw
rejection where there was none. To him it was a case of his father
choosing the rich man's Rainbow over the poor family's Virginia; of preferring his twenty-five teammates to his
single, solitary son. So whenever he could he would sneak up to the Rainbow: he wanted to know why .
But he wasn't there now, and Laura sat down
to lunch.
The day was hazy, not quite foggy, and
muggy, the kind of day that dulls the reflexes and makes reversals
intolerable. Billy had been suffering a series of such reversals
all morning long; he was trying to repair the Virginia's small portable donkey-engine, used to help lift heavy cargo on
board. But Billy, unlike most males, was born without the necessary
genes to put mechanical objects right. Every once in a while a
robust curse came drifting over to Laura, who feared and despised
the little engine even more than Billy did. She pretended not to
hear him.
She was leaning against the mast, eyes
half-closed savoring one last moment of respite from The List, when
she noticed someone sauntering down the wharf toward the Virginia. A sailor walks along a wharf differently from a
lubber: he stays closer to it, somehow, as if it might lurch to
port or starboard on a gust of wind. And he holds his body with a
certain tension, ready to roll with the dock, should a sudden sea
lift them both together on their beam-ends. It makes no difference
to him that the dock is firmly anchored to the sea bottom by dozens
of pilings: a sailor, a true man of the sea, is always
compensating.
When Laura had last seen the man it was dark
and she had had other things on her mind than whether he derived
from the land or the sea.
Chapter 6
"Good afternoon," he said simply, looking
somehow even more disreputable in the noonday sun. "May I come
aboard?"
"There is no dance tonight," Laura said,
feeling her cheeks go hot and the faded bruises on her arms
suddenly throb in sympathy. "Or ever again."
"Oh, I assumed that," he said easily. "You are Laura Powers, are you
mollified.
"Do I get a hug before you go?" asked Laura,
holding her arms out to him.
A little stiffly, Neil allowed his mother to
embrace him. She watched him scramble over the side for his dory,
her little stripling with the sweet high voice of a child and the
tortured thought processes of a Supreme Court justice. If only he
didn't weigh every little thing. Ah, well, she thought,
turning back to the torn gollywobbler, it's just a
stage.
The day passed for Laura like all the others
that week—with one eye on the repair, one eye on the list. The only
interruption came in the form of a steady stream of applicants for
the job of first mate. By noon Laura had interviewed and quickly
dismissed four of them: an unemployed baker, a millworker eager to
see the world, and two ordinary seamen. As usual, no one had
bothered to be guided by her list of qualifications. Not one among
them had ever been aboard a sailing vessel.
"I'm worried," Laura admitted to Billy after
the last one had been sent politely packing. "Who in the world
understands coasting schooners nowadays? What if we can't find
anyone?"
"Then you and me'll do it. Didn't we sail
the Ginny ourselves, just about, when Sam busted his wrist
that time?"
"That was a downhill run in twelve knots of
wind from Gloucester to Camden, Billy. I could've done that trip myself."
"See? What'd I tell you?" He beamed
encouragingly.
"Billy—oh, Billy. Never mind." Laura tweaked
his cap down over his eyes and took her lunch, a thick slab of
bread smeared over with pork fat, over to a cool spot in the shadow
of the foremast.
Before she sat down for her precious midday
break, she scanned Brenton Cove for Neil's dory; he'd been hovering
much too close to the Rainbow, she'd noticed earlier. Sam
had given explicit directions that his family were to keep their
distance and let him get on with his training. Laura had understood
Sam's attitude completely; but Neil, as he always did, saw
rejection where there was none. To him it was a case of his father
choosing the rich man's Rainbow over the poor family's Virginia; of preferring his twenty-five teammates to his
single, solitary son. So whenever he could he would sneak up to the Rainbow: he wanted to know why .
But he wasn't there now, and Laura sat down
to lunch.
The day was hazy, not quite foggy, and
muggy, the kind of day that dulls the reflexes and makes reversals
intolerable. Billy had been suffering a series of such reversals
all morning long; he was trying to repair the Virginia's small portable donkey-engine, used to help lift heavy cargo on
board. But Billy, unlike most males, was born without the necessary
genes to put mechanical objects right. Every once in a while a
robust curse came drifting over to Laura, who feared and despised
the little engine even more than Billy did. She pretended not to
hear him.
She was leaning against the mast, eyes
half-closed savoring one last moment of respite from The List, when
she noticed someone sauntering down the wharf toward the Virginia. A sailor walks along a wharf differently from a
lubber: he stays closer to it, somehow, as if it might lurch to
port or starboard on a gust of wind. And he holds his body with a
certain tension, ready to roll with the dock, should a sudden sea
lift them both together on their beam-ends. It makes no difference
to him that the dock is firmly anchored to the sea bottom by dozens
of pilings: a sailor, a true man of the sea, is always
compensating.
When Laura had last seen the man it was dark
and she had had other things on her mind than whether he derived
from the land or the sea.
Chapter 6
"Good afternoon," he said simply, looking
somehow even more disreputable in the noonday sun. "May I come
aboard?"
"There is no dance tonight," Laura said,
feeling her cheeks go hot and the faded bruises on her arms
suddenly throb in sympathy. "Or ever again."
"Oh, I assumed that," he said easily. "You are Laura Powers, are you
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