Mystic Memories by Gillian Doyle, Susan Leslie Liepitz Read Free Book Online Page B

mutt stood with its front paws braced on the bow, barking excitedly. The canine leaped out, splashing into a receding wave, then bounded toward Blake as four of his crew hauled the boats by the gunwales onto the sand.
    Meeting the rescue party halfway, Blake knelt on one knee to give Bud a moment of praise and attention before he stood to greet the men.
    “Good to see you, Cap’n,” said his first mate, Mr. Bellows, with a mile-wide grin, followed by a similar hearty greeting by seaman McGinty.
    “ Aloha, Capnee! ” added Lopaka, a dark-skinned Sandwich Islander. “ Aloha nui! ”
    To the white merchantmen, Lopaka and others from the Pacific Islands were individually called Kanaka , a variation of their own word for “man.” Addressed as a group, they were Kānaka with a line over the first “a”. And they held the unusual and envious position of working for themselves, hiring out to hide-trading ships along the coast without being tied to a contract like a regular sailor.
    Blake grinned at the enthusiastic young man. “Yes, Lopaka, a big hello to you, too.”
    Then he turned to Keoni Pahinui, who was the ship’s cook and, on occasion, the doctor as well, owning an impressive collection of knives that served both purposes. He was also a cherished friend of many years. There was not another man alive for whom Blake would lay down his own life.
    “ Aloha, Kaikua’ana ,” Hello, big brother , Blake greeted him.
    The large, smiling Kanaka shook his head, then grabbed Blake in a gruff hug and slapped him heartily on the back. Highly improper behavior, but Keoni was not one to follow protocol. Ever.
    “You scare da hell outta me, Kaikaina, ” he scolded, referring to Blake as his little brother. “Thought maybe you make .”
    “If you thought I was dead, you’d have carved up ol’ Bud by now and had him for dinner.”
    “‘ A’ole , not this Kanaka . Others eat dog. Not me. Bud, he my family, too.” Keoni lifted his head, distracted by something behind Blake. Following his friend’s curious gaze, Blake saw the short-haired woman in men’s clothing coming down the beach toward the men. “What is this?”
    Blake almost smiled at the ease with which Keoni could drop his Islander dialect for the educated demeanor taught at the missionary school on Oahu. “A wahine , my friend. Or have you forgotten what a woman looks like after all these weeks?”
    All four of the Valiant crew stared in silence as Mrs. Edwards approached. He couldn’t blame them. He, too, felt a strange dumbness at the sight of her, despite her unconventional clothing and cropped dark hair. She was truly unlike any female he had ever seen. An exotic mixture of heritage, none of which he could determine.
    It was Bud who broke the spell. His tail wagged slowly back and forth as he walked cautiously up to her, his head lowered.
    Without fear or hesitation, she dropped to her knees and looked into the dog’s eyes. “Hi, there, fella.” She glanced at Blake, then back at the dog. “What’s his name?”
    “Bud.”
    The dog twisted his head around at the sound of his name, his tongue lolling out the side of his huge mouth as the woman scratched him behind his ear. Wishing he were the recipient of similar affection, Blake felt a lopsided grin quirk his mouth but quickly stifled it.
    He cleared his throat and turned to his first mate. “Mrs. Edwards could use a blanket and some food. I assume you brought supplies with you.”
    “Aye-aye, sir.” Mr. Bellows turned to McGinty and Lopaka. “You heard the captain, men. Bring the lady those blankets and the basket of food.”
    As the two trotted off down the beach to the longboats, the widow walked up, with the dog at her side. Blake introduced her to the first mate, then the cook, who raised the back of her hand to his lips like a gentleman suitor. The blush that stole over her cheeks did not sit well with Blake, who was all too aware of the easy way his adopted brother charmed the woman.