Victor Vifquain, sixteen, staggered down the gang plank, eager to feel the solid dock beneath his feet.
"Christophe Colomb," he cursed as the dock rolled beneath him. "I need sea legs even here?"
He'd been so sure he'd be a French sailor, decked out in bell bottoms and blue jacket, wearing a stiff-brimmed hat trimmed with ribbons. But that rolling voyage on the Belgian schooner kept him hanging over the rail all the way to New York City.
He hated to admit it, but Papa had been right to say, "No," to his plea to join the navy. Victor stumbled, then righted himself. His gorge rose as he realized no matter how much he wanted to, he could never be a sailor.
Coming soon in
THIEVES, RASCALS & SORE LOSERS
by Marilyn June Coffey
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