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Chapter Sixty-Three
Unwanted Passengers
Remus was right. Dawn broke the next day, clear and fresh. The wind had picked up a little, and the ship pulled at its anchor like a filly testing her reins, eager to run. They all broke the fast with leftover bannocks and Indian meal porridge and then went about with their various duties, getting the ship ready to sail.
Marcel had dismissed Keelan to the upper deck. “Go fill your head with zee last sights of Charleston, boy,” he said. “And while you are up zere, find out who our passengers are. I like to know who I cook for, eh?”
Keelan pulled her hat low to shield her face from the sun, as well as from inquiring eyes, ever conscious of hiding her feminine features. Spying a box tethered to the side of the foredeck, she perched herself on it
