Voyage of Ice by Michele Torrey Read Free Book Online Page B

mean, Nicholas Robbins.” I glanced round again, knowing that if anyone caught me talking to Miss Elizabeth, I was dead. Even though I liked her fine, I wished she'd go away.
    “Well, hello, then.” She breathed deeply, looking about.
    “Why, it's a right fine day, Mr. Robbins. Don't you think?”
    “Uh—well—aye.”
    I milked awhile in silence, trying to think of something to say. But all I could think of was how the old man was going to kill me. Trice? Hanging? Maybe he would just fling me overboard as a waste of grub. No need for a burial. “Uh—Miss Elizabeth, ifanyone catches me talking to you, why, the old man—I mean— you know, Captain Thorn—” I choked on my words, for she plunked herself on the deck beside me, arranging her skirts as if she were sitting for a picnic, placing her cat on her lap.
    Oh, dear sweet holy angels in heaven. I'm in trouble now.
    The cat meowed and Elizabeth rubbed its head.
    “What's its name?” I asked, unable to think of anything smarter to say.
    “Prince Albert. I found him by the waterfront a week before we set sail. He was lost and hungry.” She stroked the cat and I heard it purr. “Gets awful lonesome in the cabin by myself, you know. I'm not allowed to talk to anyone except Cook and Duff. My parents, well, they watch my every move as if I was going to do something horrid. Stand in the sun without a bonnet or climb the mainmast dressed in nothing but my petticoats or something equally silly.”
    “Oh.” I kept glancing round to see if we were being watched. My neck prickled as I imagined Thorndike grabbing me from behind and shaking me like a dog shakes a rat.
    “Of course, Mother and Father had a fit when I brought the cat aboard. They have a fit about everything. Said the best thing for it was the dinner table.” Seeing the expression on my face, she laughed. “Oh, Nick—can I call you that?—I'm only kidding! No, they let me keep it, but only if it doesn't make any noise or pester them.” She was silent, hugging the cat, seeming lost in thought. Then she said, “You're different from the rest of them.”
    I milked faster. “How so?”
    “I don't know. It's just that you—you seem so … nice.”
    Nice?
Being nice was about as exciting as a wart. I wanted to appear rugged and strong and as brave as Dexter.
    “Oh, don't look so disappointed! Nice is good!”
    When I said nothing, she said, “In fact, you remind me of my brother.”
    “Your brother?” I hadn't recalled seeing a boy around.
    “Aye. You look just like Thomas. It was the first thing I noticed when I saw you.”
    “Where is he?”
    She shrugged. “He was lost at sea a couple years ago. Father said he was the finest whaleman he'd ever seen and would have made a fine captain. He was already second mate.”
    “Oh, sorry,” I said, meanwhile thinking,
Terrific! I look like Thorndike's dead son. Me—a pathetic excuse for a whaleman and a blubbering girl besides.
“I—I really shouldn't be talking to you, Miss Elizabeth. I could get into a heap of trouble, you know.”
    Her eyes brightened and she grinned impishly. “But you're not talking, I am.”
    Ninny bleated and nibbled my hair. I couldn't help smiling and scratching her side. “All done now. You're a good girl, Ninny.”
    “See? That's what I mean. How many men would pat a goat and tell her she's a good girl?”
    I was stumped. “How many?”
    She covered her mouth with her hand and laughed again.
    I felt my face flush bright as a tomato, realizing I'd just made a perfect fool of myself. Again. “I—I'd better go, Miss Elizabeth. Sorry about your brother.” I grabbed the milk bucket, but before I could dash away like the idiot I was, she put her hand on my arm.
    “Please don't change. Don't become like everybody else. Please.” Her blue eyes were clear, sad somehow. “And I'm sorry about what Father said to you the other day. He's like that sometimes. I think you bring out the worst in him.”
    “Why?” I couldn't