Willie mumbled, “No, sir.”
“Very well. If something comes to you later, I’ll be here in the house. Mr. Stewart, you have—” he pulled out a watch on a chain and popped it open— “thirty minutes until your first shift.”
“Aye, sir.”
Maybe glanced up at Willie—Stewart? She waited, hoping he might say more, but Boatswain Johnson nodded and returned to view the vastness of water lying ahead.
Willie nudged her elbow and nodded toward the door. She walked the way he’d indicated. He followed.
Once away from other ears, Willie touched her shoulder.
She stopped and turned toward him. He must start this conversation. She’d tried once.
He shoved his hands in his pockets, staring at the toe of his boot while scooting his foot back and forth. He cleared his throat. “I guess... I’m sorry.”
“Ye are now? And for what may I ask?”
“Oh, Maybe, I really am sorry. It hit me all at once that I didn’t understand the price I was paying, that is until we were gone.”
She narrowed her eyes. “The price you were paying? What do you mean?”
He sighed. “As we were pulling out, I spotted my father on the dock. He was searching for me.”
“How did he know where to search?”
“I left a note.”
Was he an imbecile? “A note? Ye left a note to say... what?” Blood pounded in her ears.
“Stop. Do you really think I would talk about you? I told my parents not to worry, that I was going to sea. I did not mention you. They know nothing of you.”
Maybe’s knees grew weak.
Willie put his hands under her elbows and steadied her. “Maybe, you are safe. I am sorry I frightened you. I am sorry I was rude earlier. And I’m sorry I have hurt my parents and my family. I had a choice: help you and hurt them, or—”
“Leave me to Eleazar Ferguson. Oh, Willie, now I am sorry. I never thought about what helping me might cost you.” She threw her arms about him.
He returned the hug, but then pulled back. “Uh, two men wouldn’t do that.” He winked at her. “Looks like I must teach you how to be a rough and tumble boy.” He grinned.
“That you will. Am I forgiven?”
“You? The question is, am I forgiven? What say we just forgive each other?” He stuck out his hand. “Friends?”
She shook it, remembering to give a proper shake and not to add a curtsy. “Friends.”
“I best be getting back to the wheelhouse. I will see you in—” he held up four fingers— “four bells.”
“Aye, Mr. Stewart.” She winked. “By the by, why Stewart?”
“It is my mother’s maiden name.”
Maybe nodded and waved as he headed to his post.
* * *
The new morning only brought more questions. Joseph left his two eldest sons to keep the business going while he set out to learn more about Daniel O’Malley. He had yet to speak to anyone with a kind word to say about the man. One person mentioned that his wife had died so suddenly that the question of foul play had arisen, though nothing more than gossip ever bloomed.
Joseph thought it too early to investigate more thoroughly into the places where O’Malley was known to frequent, places called disreputable in polite circles. But he could visit the victim’s home. Perhaps he could get a better sense of his life there. Stopping by the constable’s home, he convinced Thomas Miller to go with him to the house.
“But what if the girl has returned?”
Joseph wondered how a man as timid as Miller ever became a constable. “Then we will knock first and enter only if no one answers.”
After a bit more cajoling, they left, walking the half mile to the home of Daniel O’Malley. The house had belonged to the Smythe family until they all came down with smallpox while visiting other family members somewhere in South Carolina. The surviving family chose not to return and abandoned the house. Which meant the town now owned it and rented it to the O’Malleys. Thomas Miller had gathered a lot of information due to his position. Joseph quietly listened, filing it for later, in case he needed it.
The town’s ownership also meant Thomas had a key, should they need it. They didn’t. The front door stood open, having been broken in. “Hallo in the house!” Joseph waited before calling again. “Is anyone home?” Still no answer. So, he stepped in.
The first thing he noticed was the empty whiskey bottle on the floor, next to a wadded blanket. A streak of something, maybe blood, smeared down the wall near where the blanket lay heaped. The next room held the larder and a cook fireplace. Nothing in there looked out of place. Even the back door remained closed. A narrow staircase opened from the front room. Joseph mounted the steps finding two bedrooms at the top. One was minimal but neat. The other was a disgusting mess. Multiple whiskey bottles in various stages from half-empty to completely drained lay scattered about the room with spillage marks spotting furniture and bed clothes. The bedding smelled and was tossed and clumped. Joseph left the room, wiping his hands on his breeches.
“Did you learn anything?” Knowing the house was empty seemed to give Constable Miller more backbone.
Joseph shook his head. “Not really, other than O’Malley was the slovenly one. The daughter appears neat as a pin.”
“Then let’s be done with this place.” The new-grown backbone wasn’t all that stout yet.
Joseph headed for the door. “No one seems to know much about the daughter, other than she existed.”
“True. I don’t think they lived here long enough for folks to get to know them well. That and the wife dying so soon after their arrival and all.”
“Perhaps a shopkeeper or someone like that might have done business with her? It is obvious she was the civilized one. Everything in the cooking room and her bedroom has been organized and put in place. Most of the front room is like that, other than where it looks like O’Malley collapsed after a binge. He must have hurt his head at some point.” Joseph caught Thomas looking at him and realized he was starting to think aloud. “Just some observations.” He shrugged. “Perhaps we could go speak with some shopkeeps before we question those at the taverns by the dock.”
Thomas shook his head. “I have a day full of things to do. You will have to make those inquiries on your own.”
Though Joseph didn’t say it aloud, he was sure his expression shouted “coward” as Thomas cringed and took off toward his house at a brisk pace.
Never mind. He didn’t need to share his thoughts with anyone but Sarah. His fears, though, he sent straight to God.
* * *
Maybe wandered about the deck, noting those not busy with something specific gathered into groups of two and three finding ways to keep busy. Two men played a dice game on top of a barrel. Two others practiced knot skills. Further on, three men sat on crates, whittling. Every so often, one would stop and hold up his project as if searching for the hidden shape starting to reveal itself in the wood. The others commented and then all was silent but for the lapping of the water while they continued their creative work.
The cook came around looking for someone to peel potatoes and turnips. Maybe was chosen and didn’t fight it. The ship took on fresh vegetables at Beaufort so they would eat well for the beginning of the trip. When they reached their next destination, she hoped they could take on more. She knew it wouldn’t be long before they’d be craving these bits of civilization.
Cookie seemed surprised at her knife skills. She made quick work but worked harder to hide that she knew her way around a kitchen. But, Cookie’s gruffness eased, though he seemed to prefer silence. That suited Maybe just fine.
“Anything else I can do?”
“I’m good for now, but yer welcome anytime, boy. Yer gonna fit right in, ye are.” Cookie gave a gummy smile and shooed her away.
By the time she got back on deck, Willie was waiting for her, gazing over the rail. She joined him.
“How was the wheel?”
“Exhilar
ating!” The grin on his face punctuated his words.
“Of that I’m glad.”
“And you? How did you pass the time?”
Maybe shrugged. “I wandered the deck a bit, working at my sea legs. The cook called out for some assistance, so I helped peel potatoes and turnips. It passed the time.”
Willie nodded, appearing more interested in the wind on his face. “We’ve set sail for New York, then Boston. Then after that, we cross the water to Ireland and England.” He closed his eyes and tipped his head back. Perhaps he dreamed of all those places. She should tell him they aren’t all that wonderful. Yet anything was better than what she left.
Maybe’s dream was to survive another day. Now, away from the clutches of Daniel O’Malley and Eleazar Ferguson, she might see her dream come true. Perhaps.
* * *
Eleazar Ferguson’s information grapevine informed him that the O’Malley creature’s body had been found with only a fuzzy notion regarding foul play. Though he worried not about anything pointing to him—he’d acquired more than enough contacts to protect himself—it was a comfort to know it wasn’t much of a concern.
Nothing had been discovered about O’Malley’s brat, however. And that did not bring him comfort. Rather it stoked his wrath. Some fellow who fancied himself important enough to investigate was poking into things. If this Crockett person learned anything, perhaps he might be persuaded to share his information. At the moment, it was Eleazar’s only clue.
His assistants were sent on to Charlestown until life returned to normal. Less likely they could be captured that way and convinced to talk.
* * *
“Mama?”
Sarah glanced up to see Jason standing in the doorway. His woebegone face pierced her heart. Perhaps she had been too hard on him. “Yes, Jason?”
“May I speak with you?”
“Of course, love. What do ye need?” She patted the seat next to her and waited for him to take it.
Instead, he paced in front of her. She couldn’t help but glimpse the man he was growing to be. “No, I need to stand.” He continued to pace, now running his hand through his auburn curls. “You were right. I’ve been picking at Willie. I am just so jealous of him. He always has a joke, a ready wit. Everyone likes to talk with him, laugh with him. Only I am so often the butt of the jokes. It becomes wearing. I’d thought while he was at school with James, I might find my place. Without being the butt of anyone’s joke. But he came back. And it started again. And then when he rifled my things... I reached the end of my rope.” He stopped and faced her. “I am worried about him, though. And I love my brother, Mama. I do. I fear something terrible happening to him. I... well, it just took some time, and I guess you getting so upset with me, to realize I do love him. If he needs my clothes, he can have them all.”
“C’mere, lovey.” Sarah again patted the seat, then reached for his hand, pulling him next to her. “I worry for him too. But praying is the answer. Have you tried that?”
He hung his head and shook it.
“That might be an idea.” She lifted his chin to peer in his eyes. “You’ve been well taught. Now make faith your own. And, Jason, I do not know what need Willie had with your clothes, but I am sure he wouldn’t have taken them without a good reason.”
“I realized that. Willie isn’t a thief or a liar. I just feel like something important cornered him.”
Sarah nodded. “I agree.”
“I saw him that morning. He was headed for his bluff. I think my things were tucked under his arm.”
She looked in his eyes. He wasn’t trying to incriminate his brother this time, only wanting to be honest. “Thank you, love, for telling me, I’ll inform your father. I’m hoping he learns something to make sense of this.”
* * *
Joseph smiled at the tinkling bell as he entered the shop of Master Edward Moseley, whose political fame in the region grew more with each passing day. However, he was also a merchant and Joseph hoped he’d had dealings with the young Miss O’Malley. “G’day, Master Moseley.”
“G’day Master Crockett. How can I be of service?” It was unusual for him to be there alone. He had the means to have employees running his business. Perhaps this was his way to stay in touch with his constituents?
“I am helping to investigate about the death of Daniel O’Malley. The body was found yesterday, and it has yet to be determined if it involved foul play. My search discovered the man‘s daughter has yet to be located. I grasp at straws, here, sir, but I wondered if she might have done business with your establishment.”
The man’s right eye narrowed as if he were trying to put a memory into focus. Then, he smiled. “Aye, I can help you. She did not come here to purchase. I believe she needed cash. She brought in a few very nice volumes of books and asked if I would like to buy them. Returned a second time with more. Told me that was all she had. That her mother died, and she needed to handle the finances as her stepfather could not do it.”
“Stepfather?”
“Aye.” Master Moseley nodded. “She made a point of letting me know the man was not her father.”
“I see. Then her name was not O’Malley.”
“No. Hmm. Let me see. I should have it in my ledger.” He pulled a book from beneath his counter and began flipping through the pages. “I had her sign for the cash. She did not want a bank draft. Insisted on cash. Ah, here is her name. Miss Elizabeth Boulay.”
“Boulay, is it? Funny, I remember a lad back in Ireland with that name. A bit younger than myself, we worked for Jacques Fontaine in Bantry Bay.” Joseph hadn’t thought of the lad in years.
Master Moseley nodded. “Well, he might be a relative as her accent reveals she is also an Irish lass. I believe she and her mother came over not quite a year ago. I’m not sure about the stepfather.” He slapped the counter. “A mystery for another day, what?” And with a chuckle, he slipped the ledger back beneath.
“I agree. Thank you for your time and help. It is much appreciated.” Joseph offered his hand, Moseley shook it.
“Glad to have been of service.”
Joseph left, unsure what all this meant. However, more pieces of the puzzle were surfacing. Bit by bit, he would move them into place, hoping that the picture they revealed would show his boy innocent of any wrongdoing.
“Excuse me, sir, are you Master Crockett?”
Joseph jumped from his inner reverie. “Aye, I am Joseph Crockett.”
“My name is Eleazar Ferguson.”
His name and reputation preceded him, and not in a good way. “May I help you?”
The man sort of smiled, lacking a better word. It was almost a grimace, oily and off-putting. “It is I who wants to be of service to you. I understand you are searching for the daughter of that tragic Daniel O’Malley.”
“Among other things.” Joseph felt dirty just standing near the man, though he looked bathed and groomed.
“I, too, am searching for the lass. Her father, God rest his soul, had mentioned his concern for her. What she must be enduring, all alone in the world.” He tsked. “I wish only to help her. If you learn of anything, where she might be found, or what she might need, please allow me the courtesy of coming to her aid. In honor of her father, of course.”
“Of course.” Joseph nodded. “I know nothing yet. Anything I learn must be disclosed to the Justice of the Peace and the constable before I can share with anyone else.”
“I see.” His face tightened and then relaxed. “Very well. Should you need anything, do not hesitate to contact me. My house is off the square.”
Joseph nodded, not agreeing to contact the man, but in acknowledgment of knowing where the man’s house was located. He didn’t want to even use his voice in the conversation anymore.
After a pause, Eleazar Ferguson, repealed his smile and turned on his heel toward his home. It was a lovely home, one of the more fashionable ones in town. However, Joseph did not understand where the man got his money to afford such splendor.<
br />
New to the town, Eleazar Ferguson, purchased the land and quickly put up the house. The strange part was, the land hadn’t been for sale. It had been in the Burrow family since the founding of the town. They’d had a lovely home on the property for years, but then it suddenly burned to the ground. From a lightning storm, if he remembered correctly. Master Burrows shared how he planned to rebuild, had even started the framing, when he and the family disappeared without a goodbye.
Within a day or two, this new person, Eleazar Ferguson, continued the building project and moved in upon completion. It all seemed above board. It was plausible that the Burrows family changed their minds. The summer months with the humidity and mosquitoes could make the less hardy pull up stakes.
Joseph turned toward home, shoving the Burrows family puzzle to another part of his brain. He needed to work on the one that might concern his son.
And he needed to find the next piece sooner rather than later.
Chapter Six
The next morning, Maybe had her turn at top. She’d climbed to the platform yesterday with only the thought of doing whatever it would take to stay on board. Now she stared at where she needed to go as tingles ran down the back of her legs.
She closed her eyes, imagining Eleazar Ferguson chased her. That was incentive enough. Fingers clenching the Jacob’s ladder, she threw herself into getting to the top at an impressive speed.
“You there, boy, don’t set yourself up for an accident. You‘ve won the job, you don’t have to win it again.” Boatswain Johnson called up while following her to the top. Once there, he stood on the platform beside her. “Getting up here is half the battle. You must make adjustments to the shrouds from here as needed. We’ll talk you through until you can do it, but you must be strong. It takes strength and balance to tend the shrouds while sailing.” He showed her where the adjustments would be made and gave her an idea of what she would be doing.
The Crockett Chronicles- The Complete Collection Page 64
