Billowing Sails

By Debora M. Coty

Emma-Lee Palmer can’t decide whether to throttle her obnoxious cousin Coot or simply ignore the beast as he quickly wears out his welcome during an extended visit to her remote island home. Coot soon becomes the least of her worries as Emma-Lee encounters international intrigue and harrowing adventure on Florida’s untamed Merritt Island in 1905.
Emma-Lee and her hilarious best friend Punkin are sucked into the middle of an island mystery involving a sinister arsonist, German scientist, Seminole Indians, and Alligator Alice, a feisty gator trapper. If you liked Emma-Lee and Punkin’s first adventures in The Distant Shore, you’ll love this new round of fun, mystery, and budding romance.

• Language: English
• Publisher: vinspirepublishing
• Release date: Oct 22, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310722370

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What People Are Saying about Billowing Sails

"Abounding in warmth and humor, Coty's sequel to The Distant Shore hooks readers from page one. This captivating tale is laced with island intrigue and woven with an overriding theme of God's sovereignty." ~Suzanne Woods Fisher, award-winning author of Copper Star and Copper Fire.

"A tale of mystery infused with the clever touch of nuance and southern charm, Billowing Sails will keep you turning pages. An enchanting and inspirational story for readers of all ages." ~Ruth Carmichael Ellinger, award-winning author of The Wild Rose of Lancaster and Wild Rose of Promise

A charming tale of faith, friendship and family. Clever and compassionate, 10-year-old Emma-Lee will capture your heart from the first page and never let go.~Ruth R. King, Independent Book Reviewer, BookishRuth.com

"Serving up a dash of excitement and suspense, an upbeat heroine who models a maturing faith in action, and a gorgeous tropical setting, Billowing Sails provides an imaginative taste of faith in action for hungry young readers." ~Janet Goodrich, Across the Page Book Review

Billowing Sails

Debora M. Coty

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.  This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people.  If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient.  If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy.  Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Vinspire Publishing

Goose Creek, South Carolina

www.vinspirepublishing.com

Copyright ©2008 Debora M. Coty

Front cover illustration copyright © 2011 Elaina Lee

Printed and bound in the United States of America. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system-except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a magazine, newspaper, or on the Web-without permission in writing from the publisher. For information, please contact Vinspire Publishing, LLC, 107 Clearview Circle, Goose Creek, SC 29445.

All characters in this work are purely fictional and have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names.  They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

ISBN: 978-0-9815592-5-4

PUBLISHED BY VINSPIRE PUBLISHING, LLC

www.vinspirepublishing.com

All scripture in the body of the text is from the King James translation of the Holy Bible. The dedication scripture is taken from the HOLY BIBLE, NEW AMERICAN STANDARD VERSION®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan Publishing House. All rights reserved.

Dedication

For the Pap’s and Captain Stones who blessed my life:

Henry Archibald and Nellie Ruth Poss Rogers

John Francis (Frank, Sr.) and Ellen Iona Griffin Mitchell

John Francis (Frank, Jr.) and Adele Rogers Mitchell

Albert Woods and Jane Ann Buford Coty

Beloved family and spiritual mentors

"To Him who is able to do EXCEEDINGLY ABUNDANTLY BEYOND all that we ask or think,

According to the power that works within us, to HIM be the glory…Forever and ever.

Amen."

-Ephesians 3:20 NAS

Look for these favorites written or co-written by Debora M. Coty

The Distant Shore

Heavenly Humor for the Woman’s Soul

Grit for the Oyster: 250 Pearls of Wisdom for Aspiring Writers

Mom Needs Chocolate: Hugs, Humor and Hope for Surviving Motherhood

365 Whispers of Wisdom for Busy Women

365 Whispers of Wisdom for Girls

365 Whispers of Wisdom for Wives

Everyday Hope (Barbour Publishing’s Spiritual Refreshment for Women series)

All scripture in the body of the text is from the King James translation of the Holy Bible. The dedication scripture is taken from the New American Standard Bible (NASB), copyright ©1960, 1962, 1963, 1968, 1971, 1972, 1973, 1975, 1977 by the Lockman Foundation. Used by permission.

How Great Thou Art, Words and music by Stuart K. Hine, © 1953 by Stuart K .Hine, © 1955 by Manna Music, Inc.

Chapter One

How long until his train arrives? Emma-Lee Palmer swept her blue calico skirt aloft as she jumped clear of the rusty wagon spokes and landed lightly on the sun-bleached planks of the train station walkway. She twirled an impromptu pirouette, her long skirt swishing around bare legs. With slender arms spread wide, she lifted her face sunward to drink in the warmth and light of the glorious summer day.

Should be any minute now, Captain Stone answered with a twinkle in his eye. Mind ya’ don’t use up all your dancin’ there—save a little for the fiddler tonight.

Do you think he’ll like us, Captain?

Who, the fiddler?

Noooo. Not the fiddler! Emma-Lee’s voice was frothy with feigned annoyance. She turned with a flourish, her long russet curls bouncing as she curtsied low to the ground. Your nephew, Kind Sir.

The burly seaman grinned as he climbed down from the wagon and tethered the sweaty mare to the wooden rail flanking the Eau Gallie depot. Pulling a wilted handkerchief from his back pocket, he cocked his faded brown cap backward over a mop of salt and pepper hair and wiped his glistening brow.

Of course he’ll like ya’ darlin’. Who on God’s green earth would be so addle-brained as to not be completely smitten with a lovely lass like yourself? Captain Cornelius Stone righted his cap and stretched a muscular arm out to pat the horse, her shimmering dapple gray coat a testimonial to the blazing Florida noonday heat.

"Not just me…all of us—Sarah, little Nannie Mae, Aunt Augusta. Why, you only married Aunt Augusta three months ago. He’s never met your new wife and her family. What if he abhors us?"

"Bores you? Blimey, I don’t think the lad is the least bit boring if I’m to understand my sister correctly. Quite the opposite, I fear. That’s why Genevieve can’t handle him and the little lassie too while the doctor has her bed bound until the wee one is born."

Nay, Noble Sire, Emma-Lee mouthed the words with deliberate enunciation, her chin held high. "Thy humble maiden did not say ‘bores,’ she said, ‘abhors.’"

What kind of a new-fangled word it that? And here you are addressing me like I’m a purebred gentlemen king. Sounds like you’ve been reading about knights and castles again.

She flashed her best lady-of-the-royal-court smile and gracefully dipped her regal chin.

You’ve always been like a dry sponge in a washtub when it comes to learnin’. The captain shook his head. Now that you’re ten, you’re leaving my meager collection of knowledge behind in the dust. He smiled broadly at his new niece, unmistakable admiration evident on his sun-weathered face.

Ten and a half, O Gracious Highness.

Of course, Fair Lady. He drew his work-hardened body erect and bent stiffly at the waist, one hand behind his back.

Emma-Lee curtsied with much pomp and circumstance in return and then forgot all about her royal majesty when a stray pup sauntered up from the bushes, wagging his shaggy tail in circles. She fawned and giggled over the wiggling mass of canine as Captain Stone entered the depot to check the arrival schedule. He returned a minute later and stroked the mare’s long jaw.

Looks like she’s running on time. You can just about set your clock by The Ebony Empress; they say she’s the fastest locomotive in the 1905 Seaboard Coastline Railway. He leaned over to peer into the dry water trough, its contents long evaporated by the subtropical sun. Go on ahead to the platform if ya’ like, Admiral. I’m going to rustle up a bucket of water for Miss Sophie here. Wouldn’t want to return her to my friend, Ralph, worse for the wear.

Emma-Lee smiled at the captain’s use of her favorite nickname as she watched his broad back disappear around the corner of the frame building. He’d been calling her Admiral since their first adventure together nearly a year ago, just after she’d arrived on Merritt Island. An involuntary shudder shook her slim frame as she recalled her frightening showdown with the cold, black eyes of the coiled six-foot diamondback rattler that had given her such a rude introduction to the remote island’s wildlife.

Captain Stone had been so impressed with her courage in the heat of confrontation with the deadly serpent that he’d taken to calling her Admiral during their many adventures that followed.

He thinks I’m brave, Emma-Lee thought, arching her eyebrows. Oh, how I wish it were so! She gave the rogue mutt one last pat and headed toward the platform steps. But I know better. I know the only courage I have comes straight from Papa God.

The resonant cry of a red-shouldered hawk soaring against the cloudless sapphire sky drew her attention overhead. Ever-present seagulls squawked as they swooped down to bicker over a crust of bread left on a wooden bench.

Thank you, Papa God, Emma-Lee whispered no louder than a sigh. I can never thank you enough for bringing Captain Stone into my life. He’s the most beautiful person I’ve ever known.

She gingerly climbed the timeworn steps to the elevated platform and slipped onto a rustic wooden bench. The far end was occupied by a buxom, middle-aged woman attempting to anchor a squirming young girl on her lap.

The restless child jumped, knocking the woman’s feathered felt hat askew over one eye. Be still now, Lettie. The train will be here in a moment or two. We’ll just have to be patient and wait.

Emma-Lee breathed a deep sigh of sympathy as her mind wandered back to this very depot a year ago when she waited impatiently for Aunt Augusta. Sudden illness had detained her and Emma-Lee was left to fend for herself. Alone, afraid, and wrenchingly homesick for the family she’d been mysteriously forced to leave behind, Emma-Lee remembered all too well the confusion and panic that had enveloped her as she faced her uncertain future with an aunt she hardly knew in a place she’d never been.

But then, like an unlikely angel sent from heaven, kindly Captain Stone had befriended her when she needed a friend the most. His elderly parents, Ma Stone and Pap, had become like the grandparents she never had.

A lot has happened during the past year. Emma-Lee thought, taking a deep breath and squaring her narrow shoulders, as if preparing to hoist a heavy load. We almost got shot by smugglers. Mama died. Papa was jailed. Aunt Augusta and Captain Stone fell in love. My two sisters came to live with us in Ma Stone and Pap’s house on the cove. And now…he’s coming.

A dissonant train whistle shrieked, and Emma-Lee peered down the tracks. A dark blur was rapidly taking the shape of a monstrous black train engine, thick gray-white smoke streaming from its smokestack.

A dozen people milled about the platform, but one man captured Emma-Lee’s attention. He was of average height and build, but something about him seemed out of place. Perhaps it was the woolen, midnight-hued pinstripe suit and tall hat, so unlike the soiled work clothes, tattered caps, and scruffy beards worn by the other men. Or maybe it was the starched shirt collar and peculiar pince-nez glasses perched on his narrow nose above an impeccably trimmed mustache the color of sandstone.

She was reminded of a newspaper clipping of President Teddy Roosevelt she’d seen framed on the mercantile wall. He wore round, armless spectacles just like the man before her. The picture was captioned, Colonel Theodore Roosevelt, San Juan Hill, Cuba; Spanish-American War of 1898. Col. Roosevelt had posed for the photograph in a jaunty stance with his hands on his hips and those odd little glasses on his nose. An American flag unfurled behind the battalion of Rough Riders, its forty-five stars proudly proclaiming liberty.

But the train station man looked much more imposing than President Roosevelt and not nearly as approachable. With posture as rigid as an iron rod and hands clasped tightly in front of his crisply pressed suit, he stared straight ahead like a soldier at attention.

It’s a sure bet he’s not here to meet a long lost sweetheart, Emma-Lee mused.

The whistle again announced the impending arrival of the train, and on the other end of the bench, little Lettie squealed with gleeful anticipation and leapt from the lap that had held her prisoner. Before the heavyset woman on the bench could utter more than a startled, No Lettie, don’t— the excited child dashed straight for the tracks.

Accustomed to chasing down Nannie Mae, a rambunctious toddler, Emma-Lee automatically sprang to her feet and lunged after the child, catching her by the hand just as she teetered at the edge of the platform overlooking the recessed metal tracks.

Whoa there, little one. This is a bit too close, Emma-Lee said as calmly as her thudding heart would allow. She gently backed the little girl away from the enormous engine approaching like a hulking dragon, hissing and screeching in protest of being reined to a halt. Emma-Lee winced and ground her teeth. Frightening locomotives had haunted her dreams for many months after one just like this had borne her far from her family.

My stars, Lettie, you’ll be the death of me yet! exclaimed the flustered woman as she hastened to retrieve the prodigal child from Emma-Lee’s protective grasp.

My dear young lady, she addressed Emma-Lee, I simply can’t thank you enough. I daresay you’ve saved my granddaughter’s life! She choked back a sob as she threw her arm around Emma-Lee and drew her snugly between her ample bosoms in an enveloping embrace.

Yrrrrr Welcrrrrrr, Emma-Lee responded, her muffled words buried somewhere in the starched cotton shirtfront pressed against her flattened face.

Lettie’s grandmother released her and reached over to straighten Emma-Lee’s straw hat, which had migrated to the back of her head.

Where are my manners? My name is Eloweena Dyer. Oh, my! I declare I just can’t keep up with a three-year-old! Thank goodness my daughter and son-in-law are returning today.

At that moment, the braking train beast jarred to a stop with one last steamy shudder. A stout, blue-uniformed conductor opened the coach door nearest them and swung steel stairs down to the platform with a clang. Stewards and workmen pulling wooden carts—some empty, some loaded with crated cargo— swarmed the platform as passengers began debarking.

Captain Stone appeared at Emma-Lee’s side. He gaped open-mouthed as an emotionally overwrought woman introduced herself and bombarded him with a tale of Emma-Lee’s quick actions and her never-ending gratitude toward his niece.

While Mrs. Dyer rattled on, Emma-Lee noticed something interesting taking place over her left shoulder. The pince-nez man approached a brown-suited man, who had just disembarked from the train. The two spoke briefly in low tones before a small parcel was transferred from the inside coat pocket of one man to the other. Without further conversation, the man who had just disembarked buttoned his coat over a now-bulging stomach, turned and climbed the metal steps right back into the train.

The pince-nez man, pausing to light a pipe, glanced up as he blew out his match and chanced to meet Emma-Lee’s gaze. Without the type of friendly acknowledging nod one would expect at a small town depot, the man turned on his heels and strode away.

How very curious.

At that moment, a bearded man and a younger, slightly thinner version of Eloweena Dyer approached carrying an ornately dressed doll. Lettie’s rescue story was repeated with gusto all over again by her grandmother.

Will ya’ never cease to amaze me, Admiral? The captain beamed at Emma-Lee as the reunited family, after prolonged farewells, retreated into the depot.

It was just habit, Captain. I’m used to watching out for my own little sister.

The captain jumped as if gator-bit. Speaking of little people, where do you reckon my nephew has got off to?

They turned simultaneously to look down the expanse of newly arrived passengers that had thinned out considerably during their conversation with Lettie’s family. No stray children milled about, only workmen bustling about their business loading and unloading crates.

Tell you what Admiral. You go check the station, and I’ll see if he’s still on the train.

Emma-Lee made a complete search of the inside and outside perimeter of the building and returned to find Captain Stone standing beside the third coach, deep in animated conversation with a conductor.

… ‘tis a nine-year-old boy, light brown hair, a wee bit on the stocky side, traveling alone.

Yes sir, he was on the train. Not very sociable, that one. I took his ticket. Came from St. Augustine way, as I recall.

St. Augustine, yes sir, that’s where my sister and her husband live. Did ya’ see which way the lad went after the train pulled in?

"Can’t say that I did. Busy time for me. All I know is that he left the train. Carried his trunk out myself and left it and him right there. He jabbed his finger toward a spot along the wall where a lone black trunk listed like a rotten stump. Must be around here somewhere."

No sir, Emma-Lee interjected, I searched the station inside and out.

Three heads shook in puzzlement. The conductor enlisted the aid of two passing stewards, and the group combed the entire train. Their quest unsuccessful, they reconvened beside a shipment of large wooden barrels lined up in front of an empty wagon.

Now where could the boy be? The conductor furrowed his brow and scratched his chin.

Captain Stone removed his hat and ran a large calloused hand over his face. He must’ve seen me on the platform when he got off the train—at six-foot-two, I’m hard to hide. Why in blue blazes didn’t he come over and make himself known?

Emma-Lee cocked her head at an odd sound. What is that?

The captain, apparently hearing nothing, continued. Well, I’m getting plenty worried. Could someone have made off with the little tyke? What if he’s hurt? What if he’s wandered off and gotten lost? Heaven help me, what will I tell Genevieve?

Emma-Lee heard the strange sound again. Where is it coming from? She stepped closer to a pickle barrel nearly her height and thrice as big around. Pressing her ear to the wood, she was surprised to hear the pickle barrel gurgle. It sounded a lot like the sound Tom-Tom and