Mystic Memories Read Online Free

“There’s still a few hours before our school group arrives.”
    “I don’t need another look around. I want to be on that ship tonight to stand watch at the same time Andrew did.”
    “I told you I was only too happy to cooperate, but I’m afraid this may be going a bit too far, don’t you think?”
    “I think it may be just the right atmosphere I need to help me finally pick up something.”
    “Ms. Edwards—Cara . . .” The patronizing tone didn’t surprise her, even though he hadn’t shown such open disapproval during previous meetings. She’d sensed that he had been masking his true opinion of her credibility. “Our own people are in full costume and trained to act their parts during the experience. Since you are quite obviously not one of the schoolteachers or parent chaperons, how would we explain your presence on board? You can’t go unnoticed dressed in your jeans and sneakers. And we can’t very well tell them you are a private investigator.”
    Cara folded her arms across her chest. “Train me.”
    “But that’s—”
    “— Not impossible. I’m a quick study with a sharp memory for details. I have the athletic ability to climb the ropes—literally.” She dropped her hands to the edge of his desk and leaned forward. “I want on that ship. If I have to work my butt to the bone learning how to climb that rigging, I’ll do it.”
    “I can’t possibly authorize it.”
    “Then put me in touch with the person who can.”
    The director stared at her, then a slow smile of respect crept into the corners of his mouth. He reached for his office phone. “Let me see what I can do.”
    Several minutes later, Cara received the answer she’d been counting on—one week of intensive one-on-one lessons, starting at seven on Monday morning. By next Friday, she would be ready to work the overnight “voyage.”
    On her way home that evening, she stopped at a local bookstore and bought a paperback of Richard Henry Dana’s Two Years Before the Mast. She intended to study it over the weekend, memorizing every detail of a sailor’s life in the early nineteenth century.

    Bo’s’n, halyard, yardarm, fo’c’sle, gaff, mizzenmast . . .
    The maritime words and their meanings swam through Cara’s head as she approached the enthusiastic young sixth graders on the dock the following Friday afternoon. Her muscles were still sore from the relentless week-long workout of hauling heavy ropes, climbing rigging, and rowing the longboat. Still, the daily training had been a piece of cake compared to some of the wilderness treks she’d taken with Mark.
    Dressed in white duck trousers, red-checked shirt, and short blue jacket, she listened to the captain address his “men” and felt confident that she would be a convincing crew member. To begin the adventure, she manned an oar in one of the longboats to take the kids out to the brig.
    Boarding the Mystic from the longboat, she blended in with the activities aboard ship, following orders from the curmudgeonly British captain as if he were actually in command on the high seas. The children formed a line hustling their gear down the companionway and into the forecastle in the bow, where the lowly sailors lived. When the first mate referred to it as a “fo’c’sle,” the common sailor’s term, one boy snickered, then whispered to another with a lewd wink. Cara had nearly forgotten how the prepubescent male mind could find a sexual connotation to just about any word in the English language. She stifled a grin and raised an eyebrow to let them know she had their number. One flashed a beguiling smile, while the other blushed and turned back to his work. Shifting the leather strap of her sports bag on her shoulder, she shook her head, picked up the rolled sleeping bag at her feet and moved on, wondering if Andrew was anything like the mischievous little charmer or his red-faced friend.
    Cara had requested the small cabin adjacent to the captain’s quarters. After