Jo Goodman Read Online Free Page B

Nothing moved on the wharf now except men who craned their necks for a better view than they had had before. Wagons stopped. Cargoes were left unattended. The warehouses had emptied of their last workers minutes earlier. If the glimpse of gleaming white sail in the distance was indeed Remington Huntress, then history was being made.
    She knew it was her ship before anyone else. Jonna had put down the design on paper, supervised the building, and toured every one of the decks. She had hired the men who worked on the ship from her inception to the day the vessel left the Remington shipyard north of Boston. From the coast road Jonna had followed the progress to the harbor on her short maiden outing, but it was in Boston Harbor that she had christened Huntress and set her free for her first true test.
    Jonna Remington had done everything but sail on her. She never spoke of her regret in that regard. For years she had been a private person, but in this case it was less a desire to keep her thoughts to herself than it was that she had no one to tell. Her most trusted confidant, Jack Quincy, would not have understood her regret, not when the choice to stay on land was hers. Grant Sheridan, the man who was pressing his marriage proposal, would not have understood why she had felt a need to board her vessel. Privacy came with a price, she realized, because now there was no one who understood her.
    Jonna pushed back this thought as she squinted against the sunlight. Yes, it was her ship. Huntress. She had given as much thought to the name as she had to the design of the cant frames and keel. This would be the last great clipper of the Remington line, and Jonna had wanted a swift and beautiful ship that would make its mark. She had thought of Diana, goddess of the hunt, as under her watchful eye the graceful curve of timber took shape.
    Iron ships would follow soon. Jonna was sure of it. They were lumbering floaters of iron and wood, hybrid hulks that burned coal and used sails only when the wind was high. They had no style or elegance of form, and worse, rather than working in concert with nature, they strove to overpower it.
    Jonna's sound business sense meant that all of the Remington line would someday be powered by steam, but business did not dictate her passion. And her passion was the tall ships.
    * * *
    Aboard Remington Huntress the activity came about with such precision it appeared to be choreographed. Captain Thorne's orders were relayed quickly and sharply and carried out in much the same manner. Men climbed into the rigging to hoist the sails and make the wind's power ineffective. The great sharp-lined ship shuddered as her crew strove to take in the spread of canvas. It was as if she could not bear to be stripped of her finest adornments.
    The shudder brought Decker shoulder to shoulder with Jack Quincy. Quincy had never seen the younger man lose his footing before, even in stormy conditions, and it was nothing like that today. There was a lightness in Decker's step, in his very being, that made Jack think his new captain couldn't stumble. In the next moment, when Decker was holding the telescope again, having stolen it away from Jack's belt, the old salt knew he'd been right. Decker Thorne didn't make a misstep unless it was intentional.
    "How do you do that?" Jack growled. "Should I check my pockets for change?"
    "Oh? Did you have any?" asked Decker. "I counted two bills but no coin."
    Jack's laughter was like a cannon shot, explosive and loud. "I'll bet you did, too." He sobered momentarily. "Is it true you can remove a lady's corset while she's wearing her dress?"
    Decker raised the spyglass. "What's the point in that? I'd still have to get the dress off. I've never been one for tossing up a woman's skirts. You shouldn't believe everything you hear about me, Jack. What isn't an outright lie isn't likely to be the whole truth."
    Jack nodded. "Fair enough. But tell me how you got the scope without me feeling a