Angels, Sinners and Madmen

by Cate Masters

  Livvie. He fought toward the surface, flailing. A rope splashed on the surface nearby, and he grasped it, holding tight. It dragged him through the rough seas, the clutch of unseen fingers loosening below, begrudgingly. Familiar voices called, yet he couldn’t respond. Hands lifted him—more hands, pulling him up from the water, onto the deck. As his eyes fluttered open, faces swam above him.

  “Livvie,” he moaned. Darkness closed in on him once more.

  * * * *

  “Nasty blow to the head,” a man said. “After a rest, he’ll be good as new.”

  The feel of hardwood beneath him, Sam blinked open his eyes. “What’s going on?”

  His gaze intently assessing, Captain Howe stood over him. Liam crouched near his bedroll, staring keenly.

  Peering through his glasses, Doctor Meade knelt down. “Ah, good. You’re conscious. I’ll need to clean your wound. I don’t think you’ll need stitches. Looks more like a surface cut.”

  “Wound?” Vague recollections came back to him in pieces. Gradually he remembered. “The woman—did you bring her aboard? I don’t know what happened; I had hold of her, swimming toward the schooner….” In speaking, he gazed into each man’s face, hoping to ease his dread.

  Their expressions were answer enough.

  “She drowned.” Sam let out a ragged breath.

  Captain Howe widened his stance. “You made a valiant effort, Sam. Your mates too. The storm grew too violent.”

  “Where are we?” But he already knew. The doctor could not be aboard if they hadn’t returned to shore.

  Resolute sadness filled the captain’s face. “The risk became too great. Once the storm subsides, we’ll go back. Doctor, we’ve others to tend to. Please be quick.”

  Doctor Meade clamped Sam’s jaw to turn his head. He dabbed something that stung enough to make Sam suck air through his clenched teeth.

  “All right. As I suspected, no stitches. Stay awake until tonight, no matter how tired you may feel. It’s very important.”

  Sam pushed himself to a higher sitting position. “All right. Thanks, doc.”

  The doctor moved away, and Sam turned to Liam. “What others? What happened?”

  Liam kept his voice low. “We nearly needed a rescue ourselves. The storm became too great.”

  “Did we bring anyone back?”

  The brutal truth in Liam’s steely gaze pierced Sam. “Two.” He slumped next to Sam and leaned against the wall.

  Two. Out of a crew of at least fifteen and who knew how many passengers. Never had they turned away from a wreck.

  Never had Sam wanted to, but he did now. He lay against his bedroll, reliving the day’s events in his head, trying to pinpoint his mistakes. The doctor needn’t have worried. Sam would not sleep tonight, no matter how tired he grew.

  Vernon called the crew for dinner, and Liam brought back two plates of fish. His tales of hunting expeditions raised the spirits of the other men. Sam smiled and nodded, even if he only heard half of what his friend said. Never before had a day’s events so shaken him.

  Upon Captain Howe’s orders, the crew slept aboard the schooner. The sounds of snoring in the darkness failed to soothe Sam. Tomorrow could not come soon enough. The earlier they began their work, the sooner they would finish.

  * * * *

  The men rode in the wagon, too exhausted to walk. Two days of salvaging lumber had taken its toll. The storm had raged another day before the schooner could take up its position again beside the wreck.

  Sam pressed his fingers to his weary eyes, wishing he were in his bed already. His head ached less than yesterday, but it ached nonetheless.

  At a chinking sound, he opened his eyes to slits.

  Opposite him sat Lewis Pinder. His very name irked Sam, compounded by his weasel-like appearance. Lewis’ small eyes darted to and fro. He must have thought everyone else too tired to notice when he reached into his pocket and pulled out a chain. It sparkled golden even though the sinking sun hid behind scattered clouds.

  Sam straightened. “What have you got there?”

  Pinder jerked his head up and cast his gaze wildly to each man’s face. Shoving the chain back in his pocket, he glared. “Nothing.”

  Sam could not abide a liar. “Looked like jewelry. A necklace, maybe?”

  “None of your damn business,” Pinder snarled. His scowl blistered in his ruddy face.

  The damned cheat. He cared nothing for anyone save himself.

  Sam could not let the incident pass. “Did you take it from the wreck?”

  “I said no.” Pinder’s tone hardened, and so did his glare. “Bugger off.”

  Liam nudged Sam, and slowly shook his head. Sam opened his mouth to argue, and Liam arched a disapproving brow.

  Sam eased back. Pinder could not escape punishment much longer.

  The wagon circled to the warehouse entrance. The men climbed down, too weary to move quickly. Once the final load was secure in the warehouse, they could go home.

  Sam’s nerves were frazzled. His head hurt, an unusual occurrence, though not surprising given his lack of sleep of late, and ceaseless thoughts. Livvie’s impending departure consumed him, and weighing what to say to her tortured him. He should never have taken her to his bed. Whenever he lay there, in the dark, he imagined her next to him. Wanted her there. To hold her, tell her about his day, ask what new thing she’d discovered over the course of the day. Her method of looking at the world opened his eyes to things in ways he hadn’t known. She was infuriating, and exciting, and made him wake up every day wanting to see her.

  Liam shoved a load of lumber toward Sam. He grabbed one end, and they dragged it inside the warehouse.

  Liam bent to stack it atop the other lumber. “Ye shouldn’t bother Pinder.”

  Sam bristled. “He’s a thief. And a liar.”

  “Yer a harsh judge, Sam. I’ll wager it’s only an occasional crime.”

  Sam leaned closer, his whisper sharp. “And I’ll wager he does it much more often than occasionally. I’ve seen him take things—expensive things, like jewelry—for the past three wrecks.”

  Liam shrugged. “He’s a lout.” He strolled toward the wide doorway.

  Sam followed. “I wouldn’t mind so much if he would work for it. He’s the laziest wrecker I’ve ever known.”

  Liam chuckled. “I won’t argue the notion.”

  “When he steals, he steals from all of us. And not from the shipping companies, either. He takes personal items, things meaningful to their owners.”

  “Aye, he’s a slimy scumbucket,” Liam said too agreeably, with more than a bit of sarcasm.

  The description fit too well, Sam thought. They reached the wagon, where Pinder stood holding the end of a piece of lumber.

  Sam murmured, “The first real work he’s done today.”

  Homer shoved the lumber abruptly, causing Pinder to stumble backward. His knee hit the ground, jolting the necklace from his pocket. Pinder reached for it. Not quickly enough.

  Sam snatched it up. “What a lovely trinket. Where did you get it?”

  “I told you. Mind your own business.” Pinder grabbed for it.

  Sam held it out of his reach. “It is my business. It’s all of our business. Salvaging is what we do. For The Florida. Not for ourselves.” As much as he wanted to smash the weasel’s face, he held back.

  Pinder sneered, “Don’t be an ass. We’re all in it for ourselves.”

  Bile rose in Sam’s throat. “Some more than others.” He slammed his fist into the man’s jaw.

  Pinder hit the ground with a thud and a jingle. A ring tumbled from his pocket.

  Men halted their work to stare, and then gathered around.

  Sam set his hands on his hips. “Ho, what’s that? Another one? What else do you have, you pilferer?”

  Pinder scrambled to his feet, lunging at Sam. His punch caught Sam’s jaw, knocking him off balance.

  The crew jeered, “Get him! Knock the bastard out!”

  By their lac
k of specificity, Sam guessed the men would support whoever won. He intended to be the winner. He thrust his fist into Pinder’s soft stomach.

  The man doubled over, gasping for air.

  “Knock the wind out of him!” someone called.

  The lateness of the suggestion made Sam laugh.

  Pinder took the chance to ram his shoulder into Sam’s chest. They fell to the ground, scrabbling for the upper hand. Pinder managed to overturn Sam, slamming his fist into Sam’s jaw.

  Hauling out a piece of lumber, Liam whacked it against Pinder’s shoulder. Pinder fell to the ground.

  When Sam scrambled up, Liam held the lumber threateningly toward him. “End it now. Let the judge settle this.”

  Sam swiped his wrist against his mouth. It came back smeared blood red. Nodding, he bent to retrieve the ring and necklace. “The clerk can hold onto these until the judge decides. Unless you’ve anything else to add to them?”

  Pinder leaned up on an elbow. Hate glittered in his eyes.

  The clerk hurried to his counter inside the warehouse as Sam approached.

  Sam laid the jewelry down. “Log these separately. You’d best lock them up.”

  The clerk examined the jewelry, noting their descriptions in the register.

  Liam leaned against the wagon as two men hauled the last of the lumber from it. “Best go home and get some rest.”

  “I’m fine.” Sam dragged his hand across his forehead.

  Liam gave a nod, his tone more firm. “Go on. We’ll finish up.”

  Weariness washed over Sam. He looked into the face of each man watching. No one cheered. No one congratulated him. They drew away, wary and fearful.

  Fights between wreckers occurred often enough, ending in a handshake, for the most part. In the wrecking trade, all stood together. They didn’t turn on one another.

  He turned to his friend, wanting to explain. Sam didn’t allow his emotions to control him. He was the first to get between two in a brawl, not the one to start it.

  Liam gave a reassuring wink. “Go on.”

  Sam left, only because Liam asked him. His feet scuffed the ground for the first few steps. At his cabin, he fell into his bed and darkness enveloped him.

  * * * *

  Sam was not on the crew to patrol the reefs the next morning. He found Liam at the market. “Morning.”

  Liam glanced around before responding. “Morning. How are ye feeling?”

  “A bit sore,” Sam admitted. Something in his chest hitched. The talk in the grogery last night must have centered on him. By Liam’s careful reaction, their judgment weighed against him, not Pinder. If the others considered him a pariah, Liam didn’t abandon him.

  “And hungry,” he added. “What do you say to breakfast?”

  Liam smiled. “Same as I always say. Let’s go.”

  As they entered Grohl’s, Sam felt the weight of their glances and the sting as they turned away and spoke in low tones to those sitting near.

  “Ah, here’s a good table.” Liam pulled out a chair by the bar. “Bast, me darlin’ man. What have ye for breakfast?” His lilting tones floated above the din of conversation. No one could stay angry long in Liam’s company.

  Mr. Grohl wiped his hands on a rag. “Ham and eggs. Fresh coconut milk. The usual.”

  “Delightful. We’ll have two.”

  Sam plopped into his seat. “Coffee first.”

  A server brought two steaming cups to the table. They lifted their mugs, and Liam cursed its heat for burning his mouth. Within minutes, he brought two plates. Sam gratefully dug his fork in, replenishing his mouth soon after swallowing, grunting in agreement at Liam’s praise of Bast’s cooking skills.

  Sam pushed his plate away. “You think I was wrong to confront Pinder.”

  “I’m no judge.”

  “But you disagreed.”

  Liam shrugged. “I try to see all sides of a thing.”

  Sam leaned his elbows on the table. “Even something so obviously wrong?”

  Liam’s soft voice carried heavy words. “Ye have to understand the motivation of a man. Sometimes he’s driven by need, sometimes by greed.”

  “Pinder’s is the latter.”

  Liam chuckled. “Ye speak like an authority.”

  Sam could not make light of the subject. “Can you doubt it? He has plenty.”

  “What seems plenty for us may not be for another.” Liam spoke with the authority of a professor. “And I know a bit about Pinder. He has certain methods that make him feel…entitled.”

  Sam’s curiosity piqued. “What methods?”

  Liam lowered his voice, as if revealing a secret. “He has a skill for finding objects hidden by their owners. Passengers often fear theft, even from one another, so they stash their most valuable items in places others might not think to look.”

  Clearly, Liam admired Pinder’s ingenuity, if not his ethics.

  “All the more reason it’s despicable. They’re mostly personal things, things having sentimental value. No amount of money can substitute their worth.”

  “Pinder thinks if he didn’t find them, they would stay lost forever. So either way, the owners wouldn’t get them back.”

  “He speculates, in favor of himself.” The more Liam explained, the more goaded Sam felt. The audacity, to claim someone else’s possession on such a flimsy excuse. Pinder himself was a flimsy excuse for a man.

  “Perhaps.” Liam leaned back in his chair. A signal the conversation had ended.

  Liam’s penchant for remaining neutral exasperated Sam sometimes. His friend’s analytical mind was perplexing and enlightening. Liam had a gift for illuminating a perspective Sam wouldn’t have considered. His legal education trained Sam to love a good argument to sharpen his mind. His skill for argument had grown dull these past few years from disuse.

  Sam couldn’t stop himself. “No judge would pardon his theft based on such a flimsy excuse.”

  Liam narrowed his eyes a moment. “Ye’re right. No judge would.”

  Maybe his friend’s image of Sam had changed. “Still you think I was wrong.”

  Liam gave an exasperated chuckle. “It’s not the being wrong or right, Sam. Ye’re missing the point.”

  “I am. I’m baffled.”

  His voice a hoarse whisper, Liam leaned closer. “Have ye never done it yourself?”

  The question slapped his senses. “Stolen, you mean? No. I’ve never felt the need.” He regarded his friend in a new light. “Have you?”

  Liam pressed his lips together. “A few times. Mostly, I saw it as an advance against future payments.”

  Words escaped Sam, and he struggled to make sense of it. He would never have suspected Liam of stealing.

  Liam clucked his tongue. “Don’t look so crestfallen, now. I’m human, Sam. We’re all weak creatures, capable of anything, given the right circumstances.”

  “I agree. Desperate circumstances sometimes cause men to undertake desperate measures. My point is: Pinder is far from desperate.”

  Liam nodded. “He requires more than most. To him, it’s insurance against future hardships.”

  For the life of him, Sam couldn’t find sympathy for such a perspective. “None of us know what the future holds. We cannot let possible disaster guide us in our present affairs.”

  A slow smile spread across Liam’s face. “Really, Sam? Now, would that include affairs of the heart?”

  Sam leaned back in his chair. “You old sea dog.” He chuckled. “This discussion is not about me.”

  “And why not? Aren’t ye operating under the same principle?”

  He’d won. The bastard. “You’re right.” Sam had tried to ignore his feelings for Livvie because he feared she would injure him. “Why are you trying to marry me off, Liam?”

  “Misery loves company, I suppose.” A smug smile spread across Liam’s face.

  Sam cocked his jaw. “You proposed to Millie? Honestly?”

  Liam sat straight. “I did.”

  “And she
accepted?”

  “She did.” Liam leaned closer. “Ye may congratulate me twice. I’m to be a father.”

  Sam’s mouth dropped open in a smile. “You? By God, you are an old sea dog.”

  He winked. “Plenty of life left in me yet.”

  “I never thought I’d see the day.”

  “Ye? I never thought I’d see the day.” His smile faded, though the happiness in his eyes shone bright. “I want ye to be my best man.”

  “Of course. When?”

  “Soon. She’s already beginning to bulge. I have to make an honest woman out of her.” His raspy chuckle showed his delight.

  Surely Liam knew the baby might belong to another man. Perhaps he didn’t care. “Will she make an honest man out of you?”

  “I believe she’ll try.”

  “Mr. and Mrs. Liam and Millie Byrne. Imagine.” Despite saying it aloud, Sam still couldn’t conceive of it.

  “And baby makes three.”

  Sam shook his head in wonder. “I’ll miss you, old friend.”

  Liam’s head jerked up. “What do ye mean?”

  “Your new wife won’t allow you to come to the grogery.”

  “She’ll come with me.” He turned pensive. “I have, however, decided to leave the wrecking business.”

  Sam suspected as much. “So you’ll be a pirate?”

  Liam laughed. “No, my pillaging days are through. I’ll be a farmer.”

  Sam nodded. “An excellent farmer, you’ll make.”

  “I’d be a better one if I had some help.” He worked his jaw, regarding Sam, waiting for an answer.

  “Me?” he sputtered.

  “Why, sure. We’re good partners. Ye’re a hard worker. And if ye’re a terrible farmer, at least I know ye’re honest.”

  Sam chuckled. “I’ll think about it. Thank you.”

  “Once you’re a farmer, ye’ll be needing your own partner.” Liam widened his eyes. “I’m looking forward to having a wife. Someone who’ll tend to my needs.”