The Emerald Key

CHAPTER 12





Colin rubbed his eyes. “But I don’t want to go to sleep. Tell me another story about the baby bear and the moose. The moose is so funny!”

“I think you’ve had enough stories for one night,” said Beth, tucking him in with a burlap sack.

“Will you tell me another story tomorrow?”

Beth kissed him on the forehead. “You bet I will. I will have lots of stories for you after we help Jamie find his brother. Tomorrow, I’ll tell you how Moose met the crafty old — Did you hear that?”

Colin listened. “Hear what?”

“I thought I heard something outside.”

“Is it a bear?”

“No. Bears don’t come into the city. You still have a lot to learn about Canada.”

“What is it then?”

Beth hoped it wasn’t a police officer. “Stay here and don’t make a sound. I’ll go find out.”

She put a finger to her lips and Colin responded by hiding his freckled face under a sack. Beth quietly crawled through the maze of boxes until she reached the secret entrance and peered out into the cool evening air. Something rustled to her right. Moving as slowly as she dared, Beth slid low to the ground and peered around a broken crate from the Hudson’s Bay Company.

Only an arm’s length away was a tall man staring up at the cloudy night sky. The stranger had a cloth sack in one hand. Her shock quickly evaporated when she recognized the familiar dark silhouette. She leapt to her feet.

“Jamie! Oh, it’s you. I thought it might have been an animal, a police officer, or even worse, an orphanage inspector! I told Colin that on my signal we would have to make a run for it, should the need arise. He’s been ever so good, little Colin. He first had a nap and since he woke up, I’ve been telling him stories that I had learned way back in —”

Beth stopped when she realized there was something very wrong. Even in the dark, she could tell that Jamie’s eyes were red, hollow, and lifeless. He turned and she shivered when she realized that he was looking through her instead of at her. Instinctively, she reached out and wrapped her thin arms around him. She had seen that look too many times already in her short life.

“I’m so sorry, Jamie.”

After a moment, she backed up, tears trickling down her cheek.

“Are you sure?” she asked. “Sometimes they make mistakes, you know. I’ve seen them do it.”

He shook his head slowly. “They had a personal letter of Ryan’s attached to the death certificate. He was the only one who could have had the letter. It had to have been him.”

“I’m so sorry.” She wiped away a tear with the back of her hand. “What do we do now?”

It took a moment for Jamie to fight through the pain and organize his thoughts. “Do you know of a place where the captains of ships like to go after a long voyage?”

“Most of the captains head down to the pub by the docks. I often went down there to see if any captains needed older orphans for crew. They mostly refused, thinking the orphans might be sick, and they didn’t want to infect the rest of their crew. It’s a scary place at night. It’s better to go down there during the day.”

“I need you to take me there right now.”

“Why?”

“I need to track down the captain of the Carpathia.”

Her eyes widened. “You’re not going to do anything to him, are you?”

“I’d be lying if the thought hadn’t crossed my mind.”

A tear spilled down Beth’s cheek. “Please don’t! I don’t want to see you go to jail, or worse, be killed!”

He smiled half-heartedly. “Don’t worry. I’m a priest.”

She took a step back. “Really?”

“Yes, I am. And I won’t take you back to the orphanage. Being a priest also means that I won’t hit anyone. Besides, I can think of much better ways to deal with scum like the captain of the Carpathia. But right now, all I need to do is go talk to him.”

She glanced down the darkened street. “So we’re going now?”

He nodded. “Go get Colin.”

Beth dove in among the boxes, blew out the tiny candle, and led Colin through the wooden maze back to Jamie. Colin was tired. but he held his tongue, sensing an anger in Jamie that he had never felt before from his friend. As they walked along, Jamie passed out two small loaves of bread to the ravenous children, which they hungrily ate. Beth led them through several dark alleys until they reached the river’s north bank.

The long docks that jutted out into the dark waters of the St. Lawrence River wrapped themselves around the berthed ships like the giant tentacles of a wooden sea monster. The children carefully made their way through a hive of filthy men loading timber into an enormous ship. Jamie then spied a smaller ship behind the one loading lumber. Pieces of the deck had been removed and its long masts were lying horizontally on the quay beside the hull. He felt a flash of rage as he read the name on the bow. Carpathia. The ship of death.

Across from the ships were a collection of several small, ramshackle buildings. Rough-looking men staggered out through the doors of the largest structure. They were holding on to each other for balance, and they threw slurred curses at the men who followed them out with crossed arms, watching them leave. A pair of women lurking in the shadows strutted up to the departing sailors and, putting their arms around the men’s waists, joined them in their weaving walk back toward a collection of cheap hotels. Jamie wondered whether Beth was right. Was it wise for him to take young children into such a shady establishment? Now he had no choice. It was better to stick together than for him to leave the children outside in such a rough area.

They entered the noisy building from which the sailors staggered. Jamie gagged on the thick fog of tobacco smoke that filled the pub. Rude and raucous voices cut through the blue haze as a piano player banged away on an out-of-tune upright piano in the far corner. Several gruff sailors eyed Jamie and the children suspiciously as they stepped into the melee. Cautiously, Jamie made his way through the rough crowd, and after checking to make sure the children were right behind him, tracked down the bartender.

“I’m looking for the captain of the Carpathia,” Jamie shouted over the din of the unsavoury customers.

“Never heard of him or the ship.” The bartender shrugged.

Jamie slid a few coins to the bartender. “I’m not here to cause trouble. I just want to ask him a few questions.”

The bartender stared at Jamie for a few seconds then down at the children he had in tow. He shrugged and took the coins. “See the back table by the window? Black beard and cap. That’s Captain Jack Chamberlain. He sails the Carpathia.”

The bartender walked down the counter to serve another customer as Jamie turned and sized up the table in the corner. Four men sat around the small round table, ales in hand. All were older, broad-shouldered and craggy-faced, but only one wore a cap, the captain. The captain of the Carpathia was leading the conversation, arms waving in amusement and voice booming like thunder. As Jamie got closer, he could make out some details of the story.

“… and the wave, bigger than I had ever seen in my life, curled its ugly fangs above my bow. We went soaring up its face like we were going to be launched into the heavens itself! I tell you, it was the first time I had ever feared that the ship might actually flip nose over tail! Can you imagine the size of this wave? Then the crest came down on us in a torrent of white foam! Several of my best men were washed clear off the decks by the surge! I hung on to the wheel for dear bloody life and somehow survived as her bow finally slammed forward and we flew down the backside of the swell.”

The conversation came to an abrupt halt as Jamie stepped up to the edge of the table. The men coldly stared at Jamie and the two children.

“Are you Jack Chamberlain, the captain of the Carpathia?” asked Jamie.

“What is it to you?” shot back a huge black-bearded man next to the captain.

“My brother, Ryan Galway, died on the ship during your last crossing,” Jamie said, not taking his eyes off Captain Chamberlain.

The other three burly men pushed their chairs back slightly and clenched their fists above the table where Jamie could see them. Their icy stares left no doubt that they were capable of killing. They had dealt with vengeful relatives before.

Captain Chamberlain coolly raised his pipe to his mouth and took a puff. “Lots of people died on the crossing, lad. Shame about your brother.”

“I’m not looking for trouble, Captain. I know I can’t get him back, but I’m in desperate need of one of his possessions. He had with him an old Celtic book. It was with him in a leather pouch when he boarded your ship in Cork.”

Jamie detected a flicker of recognition before the captain’s face hardened once again.

“I don’t think I can help you, lad. I’m not a land-lubbin’ librarian.”

His comrades relaxed slightly and gave a hearty chuckle at the captain’s joke. Jamie placed his hand on the table and let drop a handful of large coins. He pushed the money towards the captain.

“This is all the money I have, Captain. It should buy you gentlemen at least a few more rounds before closing. Please, can you give me any idea of where that book might be?”

The captain collected the coins then rubbed his thick beard in thought. “Now that I think about it, I seem to recall my first officer mentioning that he found an old leather-bound book among the unclaimed items after the voyage. He said he might take it down to a bookseller on St. James Street to see if it had any value. What happened after that, I have no idea. That’s all I can tell you, lad. Now get those snivelling children away from us. Who knows what diseases they may be carrying.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Jamie replied. “And one last thing. My brother, Ryan Galway. Can you tell me how he died?”

“Galway?” the captain repeated, looking up to the smoky rafters. “I recall him now. He died early on, typhoid I believe, second week of the voyage. Buried him at sea.”

Jamie took a moment to digest the news then nodded to the cold-eyed captain.

“I saw your ship at the dock. Is it in for repairs?”

“Nay, lad. The old girl is being decommissioned, or put to rest you might say. She’s too small to make good money doing the Atlantic run, so she’s being sold for scrap.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Jamie lied. “So does that mean you’re out of a job?”

“Me?” Captain Chamberlain guffawed. “Out of a job? Never! In fact, I’ve been promoted to the captain of the Western Shipping Line’s newest ship! She’s due to hit the waters in the town of Prescott in a few days’ time. In fact, I’ve already insisted we name her the Carpathia II.”

“Prescott? Isn’t that above the rapids?”

The captain growled. “Give him a cigar! The lad knows his geography! It’s a new route the company wants to open to Lake Ontario. I’ll be taking the immigrants who disembark in Montreal onwards to the towns in Canada West. A very lucrative route it is, and they want their best manning the helm.”

“The best at what?” one of the men snorted, and they all burst into raucous laughter.

Jamie nodded solemnly to the men, grabbed the children’s hands, and led them out of the pub. As Jamie reached for the door handle, Captain Chamberlain’s voice could be heard booming across the room.

“Men, I tell ya, nannies don’t come any homelier than that.”

The pub exploded into guffaws as the door slammed shut.


From his vantage point at the bar, Jonathon Wilkes watched Jamie Galway and the children leave the raucous pub. Wilkes took a sip from his ale and wondered how Galway had managed to get that little boy out of quarantine in such quick order. He congratulated himself on not taking any chances. A less detailed man might have waited for the end of the three-week quarantine before beginning the surveillance of the Carpathia crew. His attention to detail, as always, was going to pay off in spades.

He knew if Galway was going to track down his brother, he was eventually going to have to come here and talk to the captain of the Carpathia. Wilkes had already checked the Montreal quarantine station for the Galway lad and while playing the part of a distressed uncle, had discovered the news of Ryan Galway’s death. Without his brother, Jamie Galway would need to talk to the crew in order to track down the book. Sure enough, Galway showed up, just as planned. He didn’t know who that ginger-headed girl was with him, but it didn’t matter. By moving further down the bar and listening in, he managed to hear just enough conversation over the boisterous crowd. The boy was unknowingly going to lead him to the book and his next fortune. Since he didn’t know what the book looked like, he would need the help of the young Irish priest to find it. He threw some coins on the bar and pushed away his half-empty mug.

“Leaving early tonight, Mr. Wilkes?” asked the bartender.

“I’m afraid so,” he said, smiling. “I have some unfinished business to attend to.”


Beth led them once again to St. James Street. The crowds were thin as the shops had already closed for the night. Jamie threw Colin up on his shoulders as they hurried to the address of a bookseller given to him by a passerby. Four streets later, they arrived at a tiny establishment with a store window displaying everything from popular author Charles Dickens to a new children’s story titled “The Little Mermaid” by Hans Christian Andersen. The name “Kessler Books” was written in big letters on the awning above the doorway. Jamie was surprised the door was unlocked. As they stepped through the doorway, the distinct smell of musty old books brought Jamie right back to the old Irish church libraries where he’d completed his years of study. He glanced at shelves of reading material, recognizing many of the books as classics.

“Hello?” a deep, friendly voice called out from the backroom. “I’m sorry, we are presently closed for the night.”

A man with wire-rimmed glasses and a thick, greying goatee shuffled out the door. His eyes were kind and curious as he inspected the young shoppers.

“It’s a bit of an emergency,” explained Jamie. “I was hoping I could ask you a question before you close your shop.”

“All right then,” the shopkeeper replied in a friendly voice. “Does it have to do with a book?”

“Yes, it does, and I must say, sir, you have an impressive selection of reading material.”

“Do you read quite a bit?” asked the old man.

“Whenever I can. The last story I read, Wuthering Heights, I found to be quite a passionate tale. It was so different from anything else I have ever read.”

The old man looked at the boy over the steel rims of his glasses, surprised. “Wuthering Heights by Ellis Bell? An excellent read, but the first addition just arrived in my store a few weeks ago! Only stores in Britain would have had copies before me. Have you just arrived from overseas?”

Jamie managed a smile. “Very recently. In fact, that is why I’m here. Someone illegally removed property from my deceased brother during a recent crossing, and I’m desperate to reclaim the item. It is an old family heirloom. I was told it might have been brought to you recently for purchase.”

“I’m so sorry to hear about your brother. I’ll certainly try to help. Could you describe the book for me?”

“It’s a very old book, centuries old, and one that would be extremely rare for anyone, especially in North America, to ever see outside of a museum. The scriptures within were written in a combination of Celtic and Latin. Most of it would probably seem like nonsense scribbling as the text was often written in code but the penmanship and artwork throughout the pages were outstanding. Have you seen it?”

The old man’s eyes widened. “That was your book?”

Jamie felt a surge of relief. “Yes! You do have it, then!”

Mr. Kessler sat down on his stool in amazement. “I had never seen a book like yours in my entire life! It had the most exquisite penmanship I had ever seen, as if angels themselves had written the passages. It was an indescribable honour to hold such treasure in my unworthy hands. In fact, the term ‘book’ does not do it justice. It was a masterpiece made during the Irish Golden Years of the fifth or sixth century, if I’m not mistaken. Extremely rare; in fact, priceless would be a better word to describe it! I’d seen pictures of the Book of Kells that resides under lock and key in Dublin, Ireland. That might be the only text in the world that comes close to the workmanship I saw in your book.”

Jamie anxiously stepped forward. “May I please see it?”

Mr. Kessler removed his glasses and gave his temples a rub. “Ah, yes. Now there we have a problem. After I bought the masterpiece for a ridiculously low price of a pound from that ignorant and foul-mouthed captain of the Carpathia, I took it to Angus McCall, the head librarian of the Canadian National Library at the parliament building. Together, we sat for hours and gazed in wonder at each and every beautiful page. McCall didn’t hesitate in purchasing it for the National Library. He gave me a hundred pounds for the text, saying it was an absolute steal for the price, and said it would soon become the jewel of the Canadian collection! So that is where your book is residing right now I’m afraid — in the parliament building library.”

Jamie’s face fell. “Do you think Mr. McCall would return it to me?”

“With the proper documentation, I’m sure he will. He is merely a humble librarian, not a private collector. He understands the rights of ownership. But if I were you, I would look after that manuscript a little bit better. I know of collectors who would pay thousands of pounds, if not more, to have a piece like that in their private collection.”

Jamie nodded. “Thank you for your help. Would Mr. McCall still be in the library at this hour?”

The old man chuckled. “Oh no, I think not. Haven’t you heard? There are protests in front of the parliament buildings as we speak. It’s been going on for hours. There’s quite a bit of anger in the crowd, and rumour has it the parliament building might remain closed for days until the matter is resolved.”

Jamie shook his head at his growing dilemma. “Why are the crowds so angry that they would have to close a House of Parliament?”

“You really aren’t from around here, are you? The English-speaking loyalist population in Montreal is furious with the government. Our government wants to compensate those who lost property during the rebellion several years ago.”

“Why is that so controversial?” asked Jamie.

“Because the law that just passed parliament states that those who were directly involved in the rebellion will also be compensated. Citizens loyal to the British crown are furious that their tax money will be spent compensating those who fought against British rule. Fearing violence from the mob, the government sent home all of its government workers, including those in the library.”

Jamie frowned. “I can see why the crowd is angry.”

“It’s certainly a crazy situation,” agreed the bookkeeper. “Being paid for trying to overthrow a government…. Who knows how it’s all going to end? There’s insanity all over Canada right now. If it’s not the anger over new government laws, it’s the irrational resentment towards Irish immigrants.”

“I’ve heard that some want to burn down the quarantine station,” added Jamie.

Mr. Kessler shook his head. “That’s just the tip of the iceberg.”

Mr. Kessler stepped behind his counter. He bent over and picked up a copy of the morning paper. He held it up for his visitors to see while he read the headline out loud.

“Irish Immigrants in Toronto Incarcerated on Quay. Can you believe it? A mob of angry citizens rounded up any and all the Irish they could find in Toronto, recent immigrants or already settled, sick or healthy. Then forced them at gunpoint to gather on the Toronto harbour quay! They then fenced them all in like a herd of cattle! They’ve told the penned-in Irish that they’re no longer welcome in Canada and to go home. Can you believe that? It isn’t the immigrants’ fault that they’ve arrived in such a disastrous state of health. And what insanity could push them to gather as well the Irish who have lived here for years?”

Beth paled at the thought. “That’s a terrible thing to do to anyone!”

Mr. Kessler went over and opened his till and returned to the small group. He gave Jamie a large sum of money.

“It’s not fair that I’m the only one to profit from your beautiful book. This is my payment to you for giving me the honour to gaze upon its exquisite pages.”

“Thank you,” Jamie replied, glancing down at the generous amount of cash. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I insist, lad. It looks like you three could use a helping hand anyway. Perhaps you could put some of the money towards some new clothing. Is there anything else that I can do for you?”

“Actually, I could use some help with a map,” Jamie said. “With the parliament building shut down, I was wondering if you could show me the location of the library within the parliament building. I want to get inside as quickly as possible when the building does reopen.”

“Certainly. I can show you a map of the building. It’s in the back of this book.”

The bookkeeper pulled a book from the shelf and opened it up to a detailed diagram of a large building. He showed them the front entrance and the route through the corridors to get to the large rectangular-shaped library located just behind the House of Commons. After memorizing the map and thanking him once again for the money, Jamie led the children to the door.

“Good luck,” called the bookseller as the door swung shut.

“He’s a nice man,” said Colin, waving goodbye.

“You’re right,” replied Beth. “He was very kind and helpful.”

“Can you lead us to the parliament building?” Jamie asked her.

“Of course,” replied Beth. “It’s one of the biggest buildings in town. It’s between Commissioners and Foundling Street, just three streets down and to the right.”

Jamie looked down the street in the direction she was pointing. “Good. All right, here’s the plan. I need you to take Colin to your friend at the general store. Tell her we need her to look after Colin for a few hours. You can give them this money for their troubles. Then meet me in front of the parliament, but stay well behind the protesters. We don’t need to get mixed up in that mess. Understand?”

She nodded. Colin squeezed Jamie’s hand. “But I don’t want to go!” he protested.

Jamie got down on one knee. “I need you to be a big boy, Colin. Beth and I have to get my book back. You’ll have fun at the store. In fact.…” Jamie reached into his pocket, “here’s a coin for another peppermint stick. You can have it while you wait for us.”

Colin nodded. The thought of another peppermint stick in his hands had brightened his mood considerably.