Night Storm

Chapter One

Aboard the Barkentine Night Dancer
Near Chesapeake Bay
October 1819

Alec Carrick stood on the deck near the Dancer's wheel, half his attention on the beating canvas of the square-rigged foremast, and half on his small daughter, who was sitting cross-legged in the middle of a huge circle of coiled hemp on the quarterdeck , practicing her knots. From his position, she looked to be perfecting her clove hitches. She never took on a new task, or in this case, went on to a new knot, until she'd gotten the previous knot just exactly to her liking. He recalled she'd spent upwards of two days on her rolling hitch before Ticknor, the Night Dancers second mate, a young man of twenty-three who hailed from Yorkshire and blushed like a schoolgirl at any jest, had finally talked her around, saying, "Now, now, Miss Hallie, 'tis enough. Ye've got it, ye, ye have. We don't want yer fingers to be callused as a snail's, now do we? We'll show yer papa, an' jes' see if he don't say it's perfect."

And Alec had praised the rolling hitch. God forbid snail calluses.

Hallie was dressed like any of his sailors ... read full excerpt from Night Storm ebook