Nat settled back to watch her face, all he could see through the space between pipes. “Okay, no captain and no crew. I’ll bring you something to eat whenever I can, and when we reach port, I’ll help you get to where you were supposed to be going. You’ll stay here and be quiet until then so no one finds you, especially not Mister Garth.”
The sound of the engineer’s name brought the consequences of his choice to the fore. If he kept to this agreement, he could never clear his name. Mister Garth would go on believing he’d been the one to steal the porridge, and that he’d attempted to cover up his crime by the ruse of trying to catch the true culprit.
“Thank you.”
Her whispered response cut through his doubts and made it clear which choice he wanted to make, and which he should. His name, no matter how wrongly tarnished, wasn’t worth her life.
“Can you tell me what to call you, at least? So I know what to say when I come down. So you’ll know it’s me who has come with food?”
Her smile showed teeth too well cared for to deny her upbringing even had she kept to the broken speech. At least merchant, if not full on nobility, would be his guess.
Something inside Nat awoke at that realization. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed the chance to converse with someone who likely knew the same things he’d known, someone who didn’t hold his future hostage the way the captain did, whether he meant to or not.
“I am Samantha. Sam.”
Lost in his wonder at finding a companion when, even before the other sailors started doubting him, Nat had not found a place to belong, he almost missed her announcement. But when he did hear it, the short boy’s name seemed too intimate, too rough for a sheltered girl bound for a cloister despite the fate life had thrust upon her.
“Well, Miss Samantha, it’s very nice to meet you. I’m Nat…Nathaniel Bowden.”
As though they were back in his mother’s drawing room, two young people amid a gathering of greybeards, she held out her hand for him to take, threading it between the pipes that still kept her captive.
Nat bent his head and pressed his lips to the back of a hand almost as rough as his own. His mouth curved against her skin at the incongruity, but she deserved proper treatment when she must see all this as a nightmare from which she could never wake.
Samantha giggled and withdrew her hand to give him a hesitant look.
Nat returned her gaze with a full grin only to freeze as something in the changing sounds above warned him the men had gone back to work.
“I can’t stay. If I’m caught, you’ll be found, or I’ll be hung for interfering with the engine, neither of which are what I want, nor should you. I’ll be back though. I promise I’ll come as soon as I can manage. You’ll know it’s me when I call out to you. If you don’t hear your name, whatever you do, stay hidden.”
He waited long enough to see her nod of agreement, though he supposed he hadn’t needed to warn her considering how well she’d done through the first part of their voyage. Still, warmth settled into his chest at the thought of his secret friend waiting for him, trusting him. Nothing, not even the thought of suffering Mister Garth’s pokes in silence, could dampen that knowledge.
38
Sam watched him go, the warmth of his friendship strengthening her as much as the food he’d shared though his own stomach rumbled with desire for it. Since the carriage crashed, leaving her abandoned among strangers who would only do her harm, she had yet to feel safe.
Now she did.
She couldn’t imagine what she’d done to deserve this, how fate could have led Nat to her side instead of another sailor, or worse Mister Garth, who would condemn her out of hand. For him, more than any of the others, she would keep under control until they reached their destination. She would not risk her only friend no matter what the engine offered her.
Just the thought of having Nat to talk to when he could take that chance made the engine’s whispers less enticing.
Sam hugged her legs and stared out through the pipes, anticipating when next he would come. Even watching him work with the engineer when he could do nothing to acknowledge her presence would be comforting. She no longer felt as alone as she had when no one knew she was there.
She only wished she could tell him the whole truth, but how could she ask him to go against everything he’d been told? Henry had, but he’d come to know her as a person first before he had to consider whether she could be the monster English laws declared her.
Nat had seen nothing of her beyond acts that would have brought the strongest of scolding’s down on her head. She couldn’t chance his reaction. Already, he chose to help her when by ship’s law she’d most likely be condemned. She refused to add to the burden she’d laid on his shoulders, though not by intention.
If she kept her wits about her, and focused on whatever moments he could spare to visit, he would never need to know more. They could part as friends when the journey reached its end and she’d become a pleasant memory instead of a nightmare.
39
Whether from the undefinable pleasure of knowing something Mister Garth did not, or finally coming to terms with his inability to change the crew’s mind, Nat walked taller the next day. He held his shoulders back and found grins came easy for the first time since being accused of theft.
Nat remembered something his mother had said as he watched the change in how the crew treated him now that he no longer curried their favor while expecting to be kicked.
His father had fought against those coming to absorb him into the new definition of industry when Nat was a young boy. He’d come back battered and bruised.
His mother held Nat through the tears, waiting until after they stopped to tell him, “If you act like a victim, those around you will treat you like one. If you act strong, they’ll recognize your strength.”
Despite his beatings, Nat’s father had been one of the few in the nobility to enter this new age with a job that meant something. Most held figurehead positions like the captain’s for all that Professor Paderwatch had turned out to be uniquely suited to the task.
He’d never fully understood her meaning until now.
Even Mister Garth seemed changed, though that came as much from being invited to the captain’s table as anything Nat had done.
“You’re looking a might bit better today, Mister Bowden. You missed a good spread at the captain’s table with your weak innards.”
Nat shrugged as he swung down the steps to the engine room, forcing himself not to glance around for Samantha.
Mister Garth stared at him for a moment with his shaggy eyebrows lowered, then the engineer shrugged too. “I don’t know what’s getting into you, boy, but seems to me some of that baby fat’s gone missing.”
With the engineer’s back turned, Nat allowed himself a smile. Unless he missed his guess, Mister Garth had just suggested he’d become a man, or closer to it.
“Stop looking for those invisible rats and get yourself over here. We’ve got some parts to grease down really well today.”
Nat’s smile vanished as he stared after the engineer, stunned more at the gentle teasing in the man’s tone than bothered by the words. If he’d known the best way to win Mister Garth’s respect was by refusing to flinch from the probing reminders, he’d have been much faster to give up protesting.
The real reason for his change in attitude peered out from between two pipes, her grin wide enough for the both of them.
“Well, are you coming, boy?”
Nat made himself shake his head and wave her back into hiding as he strode to where Mister Garth settled in to work.
The last sounded more like the engineer he knew, but he didn’t let the return weaken his mood.
His step felt lighter for having seen Samantha and having shared the unexpected softening, no matter how brief, in the engineer’s dislike.
He’d mourn when she left the ship for good, but he intended to enjoy every bit of time in her presence he could manage, and with the way the
engineer had acted, freedom to come and go from this space just might not be as far off as he had thought.
Thank You for Reading
Thank you for reading Secrets, the first of The Steamship Chronicles. I hope you have enjoyed it. The series will follow Sam and Nat as they face danger and adventure in pursuit of their hopes and dreams. Their story is just beginning.
I love to hear about your experiences with my characters, so drop me a line in email to:
* [email protected]
or use the contact form on:
* margaretmcgaffeyfisk.com
And while you’re there, if you sign up for my monthly newsletter, I’ll share a bit of my writing and publishing journey, fun events, and even snippets or pre-publication stories as a thank you for letting me into your inbox. You can also choose to receive release announcements, which are split into genre and go out only when a new book is available in that genre. Feel free to select as many options as you’d like.
Finally, can I ask a favor? If you’re willing, I’d appreciate a review of Secrets. Your feedback will help The Steamship Chronicles find the right audience. If you choose to review on your website as well as retail and/or reader sites, you can also send me the link with permission to include it on that book’s information page, if you’re so inclined.
If you’d like to read excerpts from Threats, Book Two of The Steamship Chronicles, and Safe Haven, the story of how Henry and Lily met, please continue reading.
Excerpt
Threats
Book Two of The Steamship Chronicles
“Samantha?” Nat’s whisper sounded overly loud with the engine shut down, but he didn’t know how much time he had before Mister Garth returned from relieving himself over the side. A few days before, the engineer would never have considered letting Nat stay down there alone for even so short a time, and that was a trust he didn’t want to lose. “Samantha?”
An icy chill raced down his spine when she didn’t answer his repeated call.
The biscuit he’d saved from breakfast seemed little enough to sustain a body. He’d tried his best to save something from every meal, but he hadn’t managed each time. Nor had it always been possible to give what he’d reserved to her without arousing the engineer’s suspicions.
Nat glanced toward the hatch, closed against the inclement weather, and slid between the copper pipes. He could always claim to have heard the hiss of steam escaping. Mister Garth had him wrap a weakened section just yesterday, the pipes old and worn as much as the rest of their vessel.
But she had a good heart and a good crew. He wouldn’t choose to be on any other ship in the Company’s fleet.
“Have you food?”
Nat slammed his head into a pipe, his reaction threatening to cause the very damage he’d hoped to use for an excuse. His teeth closed down over his tongue to hold back words his mother would have whipped him for speaking in the presence of a lady, no matter how threadbare and dirty her clothes.
“Not much for you, but it’s what I was able to secret away.”
How she managed to traverse the pipes with little more than a whisper of cloth he had no idea. She made him feel twice his size and more in the fashion of a bumbling circus bear than a man full grown.
She rubbed the back of one hand over her eyes, offering a hint as to her delayed response. “I have no right to complain. You’ve done so much for me, more than most others would have.”
A wide grin spread across his face, and he ducked to hide the reaction to her praise. “It was nothing. No more than any decent fellow might do.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her shake her head, a movement that sent her lank hair to swaying, offering a hint of its beauty when properly tended. Sure, she had coal dust smeared across one cheek and grease under chipped nails, but Nat could sense she’d clean up right fine. Too fine for the likes of him no matter what his family had been, at least until he earned command of his own steamship.
“Can I have it?”
The hint of laughter in her voice made a wave of heat rush up from under his collar. Grateful for the dimly lit space, he dug out the biscuit. At the same time, he marveled over her change in demeanor now that she had food, irregular as her meals might be. He would never have mistaken her for a street child now.
Samantha took the biscuit from his hand and nibbled it slowly, requiring no reminder to make it last unlike the first time he’d offered her food in amongst the pipes. She no longer seemed feral, though he could not imagine any of the young ladies who’d made his acquaintance in his mother’s drawing room managing these circumstances half so fair.
He lingered though he knew he should get back to the task of cleaning coal dust and soot from the valves, in this, a rare break from running the engine. Mister Garth had been almost as reluctant as the captain to shut it down, not wanting to end such a long run without trouble. Still, if the pipes clogged or the gears bound, they’d be back to where they’d been before, or maybe worse if the engine shook itself apart.
Nat twisted in the tight space, knowing his duty for all that Samantha fascinated him.
She stopped eating and brushed her fingers along his arm, enough to get his attention without restraining him.
Another young girl might have begged him to stay, desperate for the company, but Samantha had not shown that kind of weakness. If the isolation pained her, she would never sink him with the knowledge.
“I must be getting back. Mister Garth could return any moment.”
“I don’t mean to keep you,” she said, her voice softer even than a whisper. “It’s just I’d thought the trip to the Continent a short one. When will we make land?”
Nat sank to his heels, his body twined around the pipes in an uncomfortable fashion as he twisted back to look at her. His tongue felt heavy as his mind raced forward. He’d forgotten his decision not to burden her with where they were truly headed when he first learned of her existence. She couldn’t have changed anything. By now, though, he’d thought she’d have figured it out.
“You still think we’re bound to the Continent.”
Her shoulders rose. “Where else?”
Between one heartbeat and the next, she went from self-sufficient and amazingly strong to a sheltered girl with no understanding of the ways of trade or sea passage.
A sigh rustled past Nat’s lips. “If we’d been heading for the Continent, we wouldn’t have been more than a day or so before the first port. Even those steaming up the Med stop in France or Spain to offload the post and the occasional passenger. It’ll be a long time before you fetch up on those shores.”
The darkness that shadowed her blue eyes told him her question had not been as much out of ignorance as he’d thought. He wished more than anything to wash her fears away. “Have you no one in the colonies?”
She shook her head, her jaw tightening in the way he’d grown used to seeing when she set her mind to something even with their short acquaintance. “None I know of.” She sucked in a breath. “I’ll manage. I’ve gotten this far.”
Her reaction startled a laugh out of him. “You’ll go much farther before we’re done. Don’t worry. Captain Paderwatch has a good head for the trades, and he gives us each a share of the earnings once his costs are repaid. I should net enough to buy you passage back home, or on to the Continent, once we reach land.”
“You’ve done so much.”
He didn’t have the chance to reply because the steady clomp of boot heels approaching thudded overhead, an affectation the engineer maintained even when anyone beyond the officers went barefoot.
After a quick wave goodbye, he turned and started winding through the pipes to get into place, leaving Samantha to her limited repast and even slimmer hopes.
He should have told her, if not when she’d first revealed the misunderstanding, then any number of times since. How had he failed to consider the impact of each day passing as her belief in their destination slowly crumbled? Her strength might have bee
n born of the understanding that her ordeal would soon end, something she could no longer hold on to.
Their passage would be measured in weeks. The runs across the Channel took a fraction of that time.
He’d survive on short rations, but she’d suffer more than he would, especially with little hope of giving her anything other than stew-soaked bread. Even without the difficulty of the dishes, he had no way to hold back his porridge or stew without raising the very suspicions they both needed to avoid.
Nat slipped back amongst the soot-darkened valves and picked up his rag just in time.
The hatch swung open, and Mister Garth stomped his way down to the chamber.
Though he bent to his task, Nat’s thoughts spun a familiar revolution. He questioned, as he had many times before, the wisdom of giving in to her pleas not to tell the captain back when they’d been no more than a few days out. The consequences to their schedule if they’d turned back then were not to be considered, but how could he have let her become the very rats he’d suspected her of being, living in hiding with only crumbs to sustain her.
Despite her fears, the captain was a good man.
Nat sighed. Whatever he thought now, he could not reveal her without making his involvement obvious.
“Don’t be so glum, Mister Bowden. It might be dirty work, but it’s important. Think back on when you woulda done anything to get permission to come through that hatch. You got what you’d wished for.”
Mister Garth gave a laugh that held a gruff edge but none of the bitterness Nat had first faced from the engineer. He’d gone a long way toward proving his worth to the man, and nothing would convince him to give up the gains.
Not that he’d been frowning over the task, anyway. If the engineer thought it grimier than scrubbing down the deck boards, he’d been too long below.
Nat let the teasing pass without comment, more so he wouldn’t be pushed to explain the true source of his upset than out of any need to suffer it.
Secrets (The Steamship Chronicles Book 1) Page 17
