Cast Off by Eve Yohalem Read Free Book Online

think that’s best, don’t you?”
    Aye, except the ship wasn’t ever quiet. There was always a watch on duty, usually at least half the crew. “And if you don’t mind me asking, what’s your final plan? Where do you plan to settle, since it’s against the law for you to be in Batavia, which is where we’re headed?”
    â€œAgainst the law?” she sputtered.
    â€œNo Dutch ladies are allowed in the East Indies except family of VOC high-ups. Didn’t you know that?”
    â€œI did not.” She stuck her chin out. “But I’ve a year to sort it out.”
    â€œSix months,” I said. “De Ridder’s fast.”
    â€œAll the better.”
    â€œYour bunk’s through there.” I pointed to the next cabin. “It’ll take me a minute to get it ready.”

10
    I followed Broen into a long, good-sized cabin that looked as though it hadn’t been cleaned since Henry Hudson claimed New Amsterdam. The front end where Broen and I stood was an office. Against the near wall was a small desk covered with papers, pincers, and knives, with a quill floating in a pond of ink in the midst of the clutter. Bowls, basins, and nests of stained cloth covered a worktable, and clumps of hair and sawdust blanketed the floor. At the far end of the cabin were empty cots with a curtain that could be pulled closed for privacy but was open now. I’d visited medical men with Albertina in Amsterdam often enough to determine that this place of appalling filth was the barber-surgeon’s office, where men came for a shave or a dose, depending on which they needed more.
    A massive trunk doubled as a bookshelf against the long outside wall, which had two portholes that would let in a bit of air and some natural light during the day. Attached to the long inside wall was a door that ended just above my head, perhaps a foot from the ceiling, sealed with a padlock. Broen pulled a key from his pocket and started to work the lock.
    â€œHow do you happen to have the key?” I asked.
    â€œI’m carpenter’s mate. I built the storeroom,” he answered without turning around. “We’re lucky to have a proper surgeon. Most ships get by with the cook taking care of the doctoring—the cutting and dosing and such. But De Ridder likes to sail with a medical man. He likes it so much he had Pa and me build the cove his own digs.” The lock clicked open. Broen slid it off and opened the door, revealing a large closet. “This way, Miss De Winter.”
    The storeroom was full of crates marked gin and wein . There was just enough room for a small person to perch on top of the gin with her back against the wein. My heart sank. How was I to spend six months in such a space without being found?
    â€œMister Broen.” I cleared my throat, which felt thick of a sudden. “You are very kind to find me any hiding place at all. And one so near a porthole and fresh air is more than I could have hoped for. It’s only that I worry about being found out when the surgeon wants some of his libations.”
    â€œI see your meaning,” he said, holding back a smile. “But Master Clockert bunks with the junior officers, and besides he don’t want his libations very often, what with them being his private stash for selling in Batavia. Also, this isn’t where you’ll be bunking.”
    Ah.
    He opened a hatch in the floor. I leaned over and peered into the hole where a peg-ladder disappeared into the dark.
    â€œYou’ll be bunking here in the hold where all the ship’s stores is stowed,” he said. “This part right below us is a separate cabin for supplies we’re carrying to East India—bricks, tobacco, cloth, those kinds of stuffs. No one should touch ’em for months unless we need to rebalance.”
    The hold. I knew little of ships but enough to understand that this would be the lowest, darkest place on board.