He’d relied more on his wrestling skill than his knife work, he told Amélie later, but he’d saved one crewman’s life and had tossed at least th...ee of the other crew overboard.Nevertheless, the routine aboard had begun to wear on her.“Are you tired of this life, Amélie?” he answered.“In a word, yes. I miss Father. I miss Grace.”She giggled.“I miss Sandrine, too.” She did not name Antoine, but she missed him as well. They’d left him behind at his request months ago on an island colonized by. Mum said we were to call him Uncle Tommy.I liked working in the fields with the men. I was free to be myself; treated as one of their own. They were bold, brash, and muscular, and didn’t care that I couldn’t talk, "Talk is for politicians and fisher-wives," they’d say. I worked until my muscles burned and my hands bled, but I never missed a day.They sang and laughed, and we drank rough cider that burnt my throat and made my head swim. When it wasn't raining, dust-covered everything, including. More

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