Or had he?
Rourke shook his head. What did the man stand to gain? Even if he conspired with the master to abscond with the salvage proceeds, he could never work in Key West again. Considering the unprofitable cargo, that risk made no sense. Unless the master had lied about the cargo.
Rourke’s palms itched. He needed to know what was on that wreck.
He peeled off his coat and handed it to John. “I’m swimming across.”
“No sir.” John pressed the coat back into Rourke’s hands. “You canna go dere. Dey see you, den dere be trouble.”
Rourke growled against John’s common sense. His mate was right. If the Victory was carrying something illicit, Rourke’s unexpected appearance could trigger violence. He would face half a ship’s complement alone. In his younger days, he’d bested three men but never ten. They’d ambush him, claim a misstep, and send his weighted body to the bottom to feed the crabs. He stood no chance. Moreover, Poppinclerk watched his every move from the quarterdeck of the Windsprite.
He slipped the coat back on and eyed the wreck. In the late afternoon sun, heat shimmered off the dark wood. Choppy seas slapped the hull. The Windsprite tugged on her anchors, eager to move.
“Soon,” he muttered, casting another glance west.
The Dinah Hale had long since vanished over the horizon. Even the elongated mirage of her masts was gone. Soon Elizabeth would alight in Key West. Her father would greet her, taking her in his arms. Charles Benjamin would want the best for his only daughter. Rourke could not give her less than that.
The Victory promised the reward he’d wanted for so long. Cross’s peculiar behavior led Rourke to believe the cargo was of considerable value. Win a wrecker’s fair portion in admiralty court, and he could set up as a merchant. Maybe then he would be good enough for Charles Benjamin’s daughter.
A head appeared at the rail of the Victory, followed by another and another. One by one they crawled into the ship’s boat, Captain Cross last.
What was going on? Rourke collapsed the spyglass and tucked it in his coat pocket before positioning himself at the head of the ladder. Whatever they’d found, he’d be the first to know.
Poppinclerk came alongside him. “Apparently your darkie was right.”
Rourke didn’t dignify the comment with a response.
The Victory’s crew pulled hard on the oars, sending the ship’s boat skimming across the narrow distance between the vessels. With a bump, the boat pulled alongside the Windsprite and tied off. The master ascended first.
He glanced at Poppinclerk before addressing Rourke. “The salvage is yours.”
“Stop!” the first mate cried as he scrambled onto the deck. “There’s a thief on this ship.” He pointed a finger first at Rourke and then at John. “One of you. If you don’t return my property at once, I’ll have you arrested the moment we reach port.”
6
Father looked from Elizabeth to her great-aunt and back again, his expression a mixture of shock and dismay. She should have known he would come to the wharf at the first report of a wrecker’s arrival.
“I realize this is a surprise,” Elizabeth began.
“That is an understatement.” His jaw worked. “I did not expect you.”
Elizabeth hoped in vain that her aunt would not speak.
“What do you mean? Of course you expected us.” Aunt Virginia mustered all the indignation of a woman who had suffered the worst of voyages. “You requested Elizabeth’s return.”
“I did no such thing.”
“But Elizabeth said—” Aunt stopped mid-sentence.
“What did Elizabeth say?” Father turned his cross-examination on her.
“I—I—” Elizabeth tried to swallow, but her throat had gone dry as coral dust.
“I’m waiting.” He tapped his walking stick on the dock to punctuate each word.
Elizabeth lowered her gaze, once more the child summoned to his study. Father always demanded the truth. Anything less than full disclosure warranted far worse punishment.
“I said—” It came out as a squeak. She tried again. “I told Aunt that you needed me.” That much was true. Aunt had simply inferred that Father had asked for her return in his last letter.
“I do not recall saying that.”
She hazarded a glance and was relieved to see bemusement had won out over anger.
“Perhaps not in words, but now that Mother—” She twisted the ribbon with the trunk key around her finger. “That is, now that you’re alone, you must need someone to manage the house.”
“Cook and Florie do admirably, as they have for years.”
“And look after Charlie,” she added with a bit less confidence.