Beloved Castaway by Kathleen Y'Barbo Read Free Book Online Page B

deep draft of the rancid air and proclaimed it sweet as perfume. Awful as it was, this would forever be the scent of freedom.
    Aptly named for the Catholic’s patron saint of lost causes, the vessel Jude rocked at anchor among ships of a higher caliber. Gently tattered in the sails and in need of a carpenter’s care, she rode high on the water with lanterns illuminating her deck and casting eerie shadows through the rigging.
    “If you ladies will follow me, please,” the older man said. “We’ve made a place for you below decks.” He cast a rheumy eye at each of them, then shook his head. “Didn’t expect there to be a female population aboard, so don’t go expectin’ nothin’ fancy.”
    “I’m sure the accommodations will be quite suitable,” Emilie said. “Please lead the way.”
    Again a peculiar scent, the same one she had noted on the captain, assaulted Isabelle. It meant something, this odor, something frightening. Pinpoint daggers of thought jabbed at her, frustrating any attempt at understanding.  
    A fresh breeze blew away the smell and danced around the hem of her cloak and the lace gown beneath. The first fat drops of rain plopped around her as she scurried to catch up with the group boarding the Jude .Two pair of roughly dressed deckhands, scarcely of age to leave home, gave her little notice as they pushed past her to hurry to the wagon and collect the trunks.
    Other crewmen of a more advanced age had gathered in a tight knot at the forward bow. In contrast to the four young porters, each of the questionable characters stared openly. Several offered smiles, showing off the gaps in their teeth, while one took the greeting a bit further to offer a formal bow.
    Isabelle ignored them as she had been trained to do by Mama Dell. Your attention belongs to the one who pays for it, Isabelle.
    “To work, sluggards! Make ready to weigh anchor.”
    Starting, Isabelle turned to follow the sound of the booming voice. A deck above her stood Captain Carter, silhouetted against the sails. His dark hair blew wild in the gusty wind.
    “Have you a wish to join them?” he called to Isabelle.  
    Rather than respond, Isabelle hurried to follow the mademoiselles and Mama Dell. The captain’s laughter chased her down the dark hallway and skipped past the little group to echo against the rough wood of the cabin door. Isabelle huddled against the wall and picked her way carefully forward, following the dim light as it disappeared into the corridor.  
    “This way, ladies.” The sailor lifted his lantern to illuminate the way. “It’s a mite small but cozy. I warrant your things will arrive presently.”
    The door swung open to reveal a tiny cell, barely larger than the outdoor kitchen behind Isabelle’s home on Burgundy Street. Unlike her kitchen, nothing indicated humans had trod there in ages.
    “Really, sir,” the mademoiselle protested as she surveyed the mess, “we cannot possibly be expected to—”
    “You’ll be goin’ in without a fuss, ma’am, or it’ll not be pleasant.” He backed up his words with a sudden and surprisingly angry glare, reflected in stark relief against the sickly yellow light of the lantern. His face softened. “Captain says you’re to stay here, and that’s all I know.”  
    The mademoiselle opened her mouth to protest, then obviously thought better of it and wrapped an arm around the Dumont woman’s shoulder. With a nod to Isabelle and Mama Dell, Emilie ushered Viola into the small chamber as if she were striding into the French Theater for an evening’s entertainment.  
    Isabelle deferred to Mama Dell and allowed her to enter next. Before she could follow, the sailor clasped a gnarled hand on her wrist.
    “You’ll be a-comin’ with me, lass.” He hauled her backward and slammed the door shut. “Orders o’ the captain,” he added as he turned the key and locked the women inside, then extinguished the lantern.  
    “I can’t see, sir,” she pleaded.
    “Ya