Chapter Fifty-Three

Claymore Prepares To Set Sail

Daniel stood at the rail of his ship holding onto a halyard as he strained to see the last remnants of the jagged Maine coastline they had left behind. But the land had already sunk below the restless waves of the Atlantic and into the darkness of the night.

The Carolyn was two days gone from her home port and now nothing surrounded them but the endless ocean on all sides. As it would for many days to come. The ship's running lights reflected copper and gold highlights onto the restless black ocean waves.

The Rebecca sailed close on their stern, her moonlit sails billowing and snapping in the wind as her crew worked to adjust her course and lift her speed. Daniel could barely make out the dark outline of Lucius standing in the bow watching him. Both men raised an arm to salute each other at the same time.

Daniel shook his head slowly at the view. "I pray, my darling Carolyn, that your blasted mother does not pull you about too much. I could wish to have carried you away to sea with me to save you that trial, but our sweet little Lucy needs you. Some hazards in life must be faced, as I must face mine…"

He shook his head as he turned from the restless scene and the toe of his sea boot nudged against the roped deck cargo belonging to his cousin. He frowned down at it in puzzlement.

Something itched in the back of his mind and between his shoulder blades. Some prescient of imminent danger to come. The sensation made him narrow his eyes as he sank onto his haunches beside the cargo. He pulled out the sturdy knife he always carried at his waist while at sea.

"A concern, Sir?" Nathan Jarvis fetched up at his side, watching his captain as he inserted the blade of his knife beneath the first knot of the ropes.

"More of a feeling I cannot seem to shake," Daniel replied as he slit the knot cleanly in twain. "There is an evil deed abroad in here. I can almost smell it." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Bring that lantern closer and give me a hand here."

"Aye, aye, Sir…" Jarvis immediately brought up the nearby deck lantern and set it down beside them. He drew his own sea knife and began to assist his captain in cutting through the remaining knots like butter.

The ropes fell away to reveal the bulky pile of cargo had been well wrapped in layers of stout oilskin and still bound with lesser ties made of plaited flax fibre. Daniel poked at the contents with the tip of his knife and something solid within resisted his attempts to pierce its secrets.

"I like it not, Sir…" Mr Jarvis kicked at the tightly wrapped bundles with his boot. "For a last-minute addition to our cargo, this has been well packaged against any possible damage while onboard. The shipper has done his best to discourage any casual inspection of its contents." He slashed at one of the flax knots in his frustration.

"Aye, lad…" Daniel nodded. "They have gone to a deal of trouble and for what?"

He rose to his feet and picked up the lantern as he studied the cargo from all angles. "The manifest declared it all to be various household items of no singular value." He walked around the pile of tightly wrapped goods. "But then why go to all this trouble to enclose it like it was some great treasure? It makes no sense to waste such good material on nothing."

He bent down to finger one length of severed rope and frowned at the good flax fibre that looked new. "This is all of the best quality, sturdy and stout. It is not needed for goods that would barely cover the cost of shipping them all the way to Africa."

Now that the ropes had been removed, there was a curious concave that had appeared on one side where the previously taut oilskin had moved slightly inwards. Daniel leaned down to study it, pushing at it with the tip of his knife. It gave willingly, indicating some kind of space.

Daniel thrust the lantern closer and its light from the lantern showed there was a void behind the dent that appeared to be the size of a man's fist and seemed to suggest that something could be inserted into the centre of the bulky pile. Then it would be easily concealed within once the skin was again drawn tight. Once more, the flesh between his shoulder blades twitched with unease and his blood ran cold with dread.

"Perhaps it's not the goods themselves, Sir," Jarvis offered thoughtfully, watching his master work. "Maybe it's what they may contain that is of the most value. I think a cowardly smuggler may be at work here. It's been done before. The greater prize is hidden within the lesser concealment."

"What they may contain…" Daniel stood still, rubbing one hand thoughtfully over his bearded chin. "Aye, lad, I believe you may have hit upon the right of it. But there is more here than mere smuggling. That I could countenance." His brow creased and his first mate watched him anxiously.

"What are you thinking, Sir?" the young man asked after a few moments of silence. "A smuggler's gold booty, bound for the Bey's already full coffers? It doesn't seem plausible. Claymore Gregg would sell his own mother before he would part with a single grain of gold. Unless it was to his advantage."

"I doubt Cousin Claymore has a hand in this devious work. Well, not directly." Daniel shook his head. "I'm thinking more of another time a year or more ago when something that appeared to be of little value did, in fact, contain something of great value. To the right person, who had come to claim what they asserted was theirs by right."

Jarvis's honest brow creased mightily. "Sir? I don't understand. Of whom do you speak?"

"No, I doubt you would understand," Daniel replied, pushing his sea knife back into its scabbard at his waist. "But we are about to find out if what I suspect has come to pass. And someone I know only too well seeks to do us the greatest harm while they may walk away without any firm evidence to point to their perfidy. If we were to sink while at sea, no one would know a thing."

"Sir?" Jarvis said again in honest bewilderment. "You suspect there has been some kind of foul play? I do not like where your mind is going." He looked around as he edged closer. "Do you suspect Turner's hand in this work?"

"No, it is none of the demon's doing this time. It's too subtle for his mind. And I do not suspect," Daniel replied hardly. "I fear I know only too well the nature and identity of the perpetrator. However, they seek to hide themselves away behind my cousin's name. But what they may hold over him, I have no idea."

He looked up. "Run and fetch me the manifest and gather six of the crew. Let us dismantle this pile of perfidious mystery with great care and see if my hunch is indeed right."

※※※※※

Elroy Applegate dawdled at the rail, looking back at the ship's luminous wake that briefly marked their passage across the breast of the trackless ocean. Soon the froth of white disturbance would dissolve and leave nothing to mark their passing.

"Beth…" he whispered with a rough sigh to the sweeping gulls accompanying the ship.

He'd been sent above to throw the evening's contents of the galley slops bucket overboard. He'd done his duty but now he lingered, straining to see the last vestiges of the rugged Maine coastline that had long since sunk beneath the waves a goodly two days gone now. But it was all shrouded now in full darkness.

"My dearest Beth…" He sighed again as he imagined her fair face once more.

His young sweetheart may not be the prettiest or the smartest girl in Schooner Bay, but she suited him. Her father owned a delivery cart and made an honest living for his wife and eight children of which Beth was the eldest and her mother's helper with child minding and doing the richer folk's laundry they took in to wash, iron and starch. They barely made ends meet but they were happy enough.

"There's the rub and no mistake…" Elroy's already unhappy mouth turned down further at the corners.

Beth's parents had been very reluctant to allow the young couple to even see each other, given Elroy was apprenticed to the sea and had few prospects of advancement. They needed Beth to remain at home until the rest of the family had been raised up to working age. With the youngest child being barely two years of age, Beth had said that would take years.

The fact that Elroy supported his elderly mother was also a black mark against his already dim prospects of wedding his little love. He had little left over from his wages for a wedding and any future children.

Such things weighed heavily on Elroy's already burdened shoulders. He had not even kissed his love yet but still he yearned to spend every waking moment at her side. He shivered at the thought of the nights they might share as man and wife. Now this extended voyage had punctured their fragile dream, but he could not refuse to sail.

"If only there was a way of making some money," he grumbled. "Some real money so I could show her parents what sort of a man I really am. Make them look upon us both and our future with happy smiles and not such dismal frowns." He inflated his chest and struck a manly pose.

The gulls overhead didn't care about his troubles as they swooped and cried their indignation. The slops bucket was as empty as Elroy's immediate future. His heroic stance sagged, and he sighed again as he turned away from the rail, dragging his feet toward the aft hatch and his duties below. Old Alfred would be waiting for his return and the old man's temper was shorter than his failing eyesight.

"Applegate!" Mr Jarvis shouted from behind the able seaman, making him jump in honest alarm as he spun around and nearly lost his footing.

"Aye, Sir!" Elroy dropped his bucket and saluted haphazardly as he grabbed his wayward striped sock with the other hand as the garment fell toward his ankle.

The five other seamen standing behind their first mate all raised their eyes to the dark and starry heavens. There were many grumbles and low-voiced complaints about Elroy and his dubious capabilities as Mr Jarvis began issuing his Captain's orders.

※※※※※

"As I see it, Uncle…" Carolyn stared at her cringing kinsman. "There is only one person in this room who can make good on the damage you've done to our family and our reputation."

"You do?" Claymore sank lower into his chair. "Ah, I don't see that person." He tittered nervously. "I cannot think who you could be meaning, Niece."

"You trade on the Gregg name. You profess to have changed," Carolyn replied evenly. "You made all sorts of promises and bargains at Christmastide you had no earthly intention of upholding. You forgot everything as soon as you caught the scent of money in your quivering nostrils."

"Ah, well…" Claymore blustered. "Now see here, Niece. I would not go that far. I must earn a living. I pay you well to take care of Henry for me."

"I would go even further," Sally said as she sat forward. "Your position is unstable at best and, at worst, may soon become untenable. You have chosen a side, and it will be the worst for you if my father cannot secure what he most desires. Your worthless hide will be nailed to your office door."

"I… I… I…" Claymore reached out to fiddle with his quill pen, staining his fingers with ink in his quaking nervousness. "I was constrained by circumstances beyond my control. I was beset on all sides by circumstances."

He brightened. "Yes, that's it! None of this impasse is any of my fault. I was duped and played. I may appear to be Machiavellian in nature, but I am really nothing more than an honest trader simply trying to make an honest living under serious duress."

He straightened in his chair. "And I can assure you, on my honour, that I have had no further dealings with Ellsworth Hall since last we met. Why, I would rather cross the street than speak with that dreadful man ever again." He looked very pleased with his assessment.

"And what about the Countess Vanessa Beauvoir?" Carolyn asked softly.

"I… You…" Claymore sank back into his chair as if all the stuffing had just been pulled from his cringing body. "What of that woman? I… have not set eyes upon her since —"

"Daniel and I saw you with that French harridan not two days gone," his niece asserted. "You were hatching a devious plot in the harbourmaster's office. We saw you depart together."

"Yes, well, she was there…" Claymore's fingers became further stained with ink. "She… ah, she had some business to conduct. A matter of some cargo she needed to be shipped aboard the first vessel leaving the harbour. I merely called by the office to see to my own affairs. An unfortunate happenstance that you saw us leaving together."

"I am sure you obliged her because you're deep in that woman's pocket," Caroly asserted, watching him closely. "You did have business with her."

"It was all a big misunderstanding!" her uncle babbled. "Her blasted late husband held paper on me! Gambling debts that I would have repaid, but the man died in an untimely riding accident."

He pulled out a large kerchief from the pocket of his dressing gown and mopped his pale brow. "I thought the matter had been well settled upon the count's unfortunate death. I had thought my debts had died with him. But it seems I was badly mistaken."

"I see. That day the woman came to retrieve the goods from her late husband's furniture…" Carolyn nodded. "And your IOUs were among the papers she found?"

"Aye…" Claymore released his breath with a long gusting sigh. "And the baggage kept them all this time to use against me when she had a need. How was I to know who her husband was? I had no clue. I never met the woman in France. She kept to the country while I was in Paris."

"And my father has a hand in this mess somewhere, also," Sally added. "I can almost smell his cologne. He would stand back and allow others to do his dirty work so he may walk away clean and a lot richer. And with my magazine tucked securely beneath his conniving arm."

She slammed the flat of her hand down on Claymore's desk, making him jump. "I will not allow it! I hold what is mine by right! You will help us spoil my father's treacherous game!"

Claymore cringed. "I… well, the Carolyn and the Countess's cargo are already two days gone to sea," he snivelled. "We must wait for word of her from any ship arriving in port from Marseilles. I can ask the harbourmaster to send for me the moment I know anything. Besides, it's well past time I retired for the night."

He nodded. "I will send young Jack up to the house as before. I cannot say fairer than that. All we can do now is wait and hope." He tried to smile but his lips refused to work.

"If they make it to that blasted port, at all." Carolyn rose to her feet. "If it is as we suspect, and Sally's father is behind this plot, then we cannot expect him to allow for any misstep. We cannot wait for any arriving ship. We must do what we can to reach Daniel and warn him before it's too late."

"I don't see what else we can do," Claymore countered nervously. "It's not as if we can grow wings and fly away to the ship to warn her." The quill pen suffered badly beneath his clutching fingers.

"Waiting for a ship is not the answer," Sally replied as she rose to her feet. "It will take too long. The damage may already have been done."

"I agree, it is not the answer," Carolyn affirmed. "My coach awaits us outside your door. It will be quicker than walking."

She frowned down at her uncle, who was trying to make himself as small as possible. "As I said, there is only one person in this room who can repair the damage before it's too late. We may not be able to sprout wings and fly, but I have just thought of a better way."

"Have you, Niece?" Claymore's fingers further mangled his pen. "Ah, what did you have in mind? Or shouldn't I ask?" He tittered again in a strangled tone as the stalk of his misused quill pen finally snapped in two.

※※※※※

"Cut there slowly…" Daniel held the lantern high as he directed one of his crewmen to slice into the taut flax fastenings of their mysterious cargo. "Easy does it. We know not what this lot contains."

"Aye, Sir…" The seaman knuckled his forehead as he slid the blade of his knife beneath the thinner rope holding the oilskin tight closed.

It gave way with a soft complaint. Daniel pointed again and the knife was wielded dexterously. Soon, all the flax ties had been severed leaving only the oilskin wrappings.

"Heave into them, lads," Daniel directed. "But gently now…" he cautioned. "Lay them aside, easy…"

Each man, including Elroy, lifted one piece of the cargo and then turned to lay it on the deck behind them like they were putting a sleeping child to bed. Their movements were slow and deliberate.

Even Elroy managed the task with minimal fuss, earning him a glance of stern approval from his captain. He knuckled his forehead in reply and grinned his relief as he stepped away from his bulky burden.

With the unwieldy cargo dismantled, Daniel stroked his bearded chin as he considered his options. The light from the lantern did indeed show that the mysterious void had led into an inner concealment within the centre of the load. But there was nothing contained within, simply the small gap. It made no sense that he could see.

"That'll be all, men." Daniel looked around at his idling crewmen.

He dismissed them with thanks and a stern warning not to discuss this evening's deeds with anyone. They all saluted as they gave their assurances, that they would be right dumb before they departed quickly, none of them willing to linger near such mysterious and sinister-looking cargo. Even Elroy was quick to vanish below.

Mr Jarvis waited until they had all gone before he used the light from the lantern to consult the manifest again. "It was clearly marked for delivery to Tunis. Household furniture to be shipped outwards to a Lady Mandrake at one of the British stations."

"A lady no doubt as fake as the entry you're reading," Daniel replied. "But first, we are to drop anchor in Marseilles. There we are to take on Claymore's commission of an unknown passenger bound for Tunis."

Mr Jarvis shook his head. "We also restock any fresh victuals we may need and refill the water barrels. So any number of wharf rats may come and go. Once we sail through the Pillars of Hercules, we may rest easier."

"If we make it that far…" Daniel mused, still staring down into the mysterious void in the middle of the dismantled cargo.

Slowly and carefully he unwrapped one of the smaller items which turned out to be a sturdy writing desk. Its design was plain and of no great value. Deeply curious now, he drew out one of the drawers to reveal what he had already begun to suspect was concealed within the cargo.

The drawer was full of muddy brown sticks of dynamite tied up into tidy bundles of three. Daniel's hands clenched tightly into fists with deep anger. "So that was their dastardly plan…" he muttered, glaring down at the explosives. "To blow us apart upon the sea…"

He knew they were safe enough for now. It needed a fuse or a small bomb to be inserted into the centre of the cargo. That was what the small void had been for. A place of easy and quick concealment by someone's sleight of hand.

Peering over his captain's shoulder, Mr Jarvis whistled with shock and amazement at the explosives. "You think this unknown passenger of your cousin Claymore's seeks to do us such blasted harm? If all of this is filled with dynamite, we would vanish in a puff and be no more but dust."

"Not the man in Marseilles…" Daniel replied slowly, feeling his way forward in his mind. "I say we are safe enough until we reach Tunis. Once our mysterious passenger has been delivered ashore and gone about his nefarious business, I will have to go up to the palace. I must bend the knee to the old Bey to allay his suspicions about our unexpected arrival. He is the most suspicious of suspicious fellows."

He stood up and braced his fists on his hips. "But he has a soft spot for me. A few games of chess and a barrel or two of my best honey mead should settle his concerns. Being a good Muslim, he's forbidden by his laws to sup of the grain or the grape. But his God never mentioned anything about the sweet fermentation of honey. He's become rather addicted to the stuff. Which will be to our advantage. I'll get him good and drunk to allay his fears."

His white teeth flashed as he grinned hardly within the darkness of his beard. "The old goat's single redeeming grace is he heartily detests the blasted French more than we do. If we hold our nerve, Captain Beaumont and I may yet sail out of this whole mess with a fresh fortune in jewels and gold filling our holds."

※※※※※

"I don't like this idea…" Claymore complained as the three of them alighted from Carolyn's coach. "I do not like it one bit. You force me to dress when I should be abed and asleep by now. You know how easily my stomach is upset. I only have to look at the ocean and I become quite queasy."

He rubbed one hand over his abdomen. "And you forced me to pack my portmanteaus for a voyage I do not wish to take. And bring some of my good gold to pay for my passage. It is not to be borne! You must go in my stead!"

"Is all well, Mrs Gregg?" the coachman asked, as he frowned down at the three of them. "Should I go and fetch the constable?"

"Thank you, John. But everything is fine," Carolyn was quick to reassure him. "My uncle is simply having an attack of nerves about a voyage he must take. Please pass down Mr Gregg's bags and then wait for us. We won't be long."

"Aye, Mrs Gregg…" John touched the two-pronged leather popper of his whip to his temple as he eyed Claymore with deep dislike. "As long as you're sure, Ma'am."

He turned and took hold of Claymore's luggage. He held them out and dropped them over the side of his seat to land at their owner's feet with a puff of dust.

"Careful!" Claymore glared up at him as he picked them up. He hefted them in his hands as they walked away toward the docks.

"You very well know that I cannot go to sea unaccompanied and nor can Miss Hall," Carolyn replied as they reached the entrance gate to the Schooner Bay docks. "It would not at all be seemly. And I cannot leave my wee daughter."

She frowned at him. "While you, my dear uncle, may sail where and how you choose. Unfair you may say, but there it is. You have a deal of ground to make up for and this is the only way for you to do that."

"Sail…" Claymore's voice quavered over the word. "Oh my God, I do not sail. I hate sailing!"

He scowled at both women. "I wish now that I had never unlocked my door to you two tonight! I would now be safe and asleep in my own bed! I cannot possibly do as you demand of me! Not for all the gold and jewels in the whole, wide world! You might as well slay me now!"

He tugged his great coat tighter around his body and stopped walking. He panted his feet on the rough planking of the dock. "You cannot make me go where I do not wish to be!"

He seemed slightly mollified by his slightly hysterical outburst. He appeared to think he now had the upper hand. It was decided in his mind. He was a man; he would not be ordered around by two frail women.

He settled his hat more firmly on his head. "Good evening, ladies…" He raised two fingers to his temple and turned to walk away.

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