6

Persuade whom?” Catherine stepped into the parlor. “I don’t suppose you’re speaking of me.”

After a hurried glance at her, Tom’s face flushed beet red. He then studiously examined his toes.

Elizabeth took each fussing child by the hand. “Please excuse me. It’s time for a nap.”

Moments later Catherine was alone with Tom. Outside the wide-open, floor-length windows, a steady flow of pedestrians passed by. Anyone who looked could see them.

“I, uh, stopped by Mr. Fromp’s office,” Tom said. “There is one berth available on the Baltimore.” He then named the fare.

Catherine cringed. “You must have heard incorrectly. That’s double the rate he quoted me. I will go there at once and clarify the matter.” She turned to do just that, her silk skirts rustling.

“Catherine.”

The use of her given name startled her. She could not get accustomed to the familiarity between acquaintances here. On the other hand, Tom Worthington had become more than a mere acquaintance. Still, it was much too soon to greet each other by their given names.

“Miss Haynes.” He cleared his throat, but his gaze drifted over her gown, a frothy mint green that highlighted her eye color. “Mr. Fromp gave me this.” He reached into his inner coat pocket and withdrew a small sheet of paper, which he handed to her. “The only room is first-class promenade deck.”

It was a printed schedule of fares for the East Coast Steamship Company. Catherine had examined enough schedules of late to make short work of this one. Tom was not exaggerating. The fee was impossibly high for the only available cabin.

“Are there any other ships expected?”

“Not for at least a week.”

Catherine groaned. First the Lady Jane and now the Baltimore had been beyond grasp. “Will I ever find passage?”

“You will.”

Catherine struggled to share his optimism. “It’s so frustrating.”

“Do you need to be there by a particular date?”

“No.” Did she see Tom relax? Still, she couldn’t admit her financial situation. “I don’t want to be beholden to Mrs. O’Malley longer than necessary.”

“You won’t be.” He grinned. “She loves company and often takes in ladies who need a place to stay.”

That made her feel a little better. “I will do my best to help her while I’m here.”

Tom swallowed, looking nervous. “I have to join Rourke—Captain O’Malley—on the salvage operation when he takes the Redemption back to the wreck site.”

Unaccountable disappointment welled. “I see. How long will you be gone?”

“It’s difficult to know. Even Rourke—Captain O’Malley—doesn’t know. There are a lot of wreckers involved. It might go quickly, or the wreck could be in such a precarious spot that it’ll take longer. We don’t want anyone getting killed.”

She shivered at the thought of men trapped belowdecks in a sunken ship. “No, we don’t.”

He looked uncomfortable again. “There is one other matter.” He cleared his throat. “Will you wait for me?”

Her jaw dropped. “Wait? Why would I do that?”

His face blotched red. “Then you do have a traveling companion. Mrs. Durning, perhaps?”

Catherine shook her head. “She will join her husband on the Justinian and sail to Jamaica.”

“Then who will escort you?”

All of Mrs. Durning’s admonitions came back in a rush. In her haste, Catherine had not taken into account the propriety of traveling without proper escort. “Perhaps there is another lady requiring passage to New Orleans.” Elizabeth had considered ladies of her acquaintance. Yet no ship to date had offered more than one berth.

He stood tall. “I would be honored to see you safely there.”

His offer sent a flood of warmth through her, followed at once by all sorts of objections. He was a bachelor of marriageable age. She found him more than a little attractive. Though she trusted his ability to protect her, he could not serve this function.

“I thank you, but you must realize how improper it would look to travel with an unmarried man.” She couldn’t bring herself to state the obvious limitations when each ship offered just one berth.

The red blotches grew more pronounced. “I intend to purchase separate passage.”

It was her turn to flush. “Of course, but there is only one berth on the Baltimore.”

“True, but I spoke to the mate about hiring on as deckhand.”

“Deckhand? But you’re a captain.” Her embarrassment turned to awe. “You would do that for me?” To step away from his job and take on that of a menial deckhand was unthinkable. He must be giving up a fortune, not only in the difference of wages but also in the spoils from salvaging the wreck. “Forgive me, but I can’t accept. Go with Captain O’Malley.”

He took her hand, and a pleasurable warmth radiated up her arm. “I will hurry back.”

His eyes begged for confirmation that she would wait, but she could not promise.

Once Tom left, and with him the flush of excitement, Catherine wondered why he was so determined to escort her. They barely knew each other. Propriety mattered to friends and acquaintances who might be impacted by another’s rash actions, but not to comparative strangers. Tom Worthington had been willing to abandon Captain O’Malley and a fortune in salvage just to escort her to New Orleans. It made no sense.

She could never allow him to leave behind his livelihood for her sake, just as she could not have let the tenants go without assistance. As near as she could tell, he had no relations on the island.

Elizabeth confirmed it Sunday evening, after her husband and Tom set sail for the wreck. “He is from the Boston area. Nantucket Island, though he seldom talks about it. His father passed some time ago.”

“Then we share that in common.”

Elizabeth looked up from her needlework. “I am sorry for your loss. Though my mother passed on six years ago, her memory still weighs on me.”

“Maman still lingers in my thoughts,” Catherine admitted, “though she has been gone eleven years now.”

“You have no sisters or brothers?”

Catherine shook her head. “Maman died after a stillbirth. The baby would have been my brother.”

“Your father must have been devastated.”

Catherine thought back to those times. “He kept to himself much of the time, at least at first, but he was always close to me.”

“You loved him dearly.”

“I loved them both. I hope to recapture that with Maman’s family.”

Elizabeth’s eyes glistened. “It will never be quite the same. No one can match the love of a mother and father.”

“But at least they are family. I had hoped to reach the plantation by the middle of this month.”

“You must find passage, regardless of Tom’s wishes. I will make further inquiries to see if anyone in my acquaintance is traveling to New Orleans soon.”

“Thank you.”

Though Catherine knew in her mind that she must go, her heart ached at the thought of leaving Tom. She’d fought the attraction, but imminent parting only intensified it. From the first time they met, he had stood by her, always ready to assist in whatever way she needed. She relied on him. She trusted him. She had not trusted another man since Papa.

She sighed. “Tom is a good man.”

Elizabeth smiled. “Yes, he is. Loyal and trustworthy.”

“Good virtues.”

“Splendid ones in a prospective suitor.”

“Suitor?” Catherine felt the heat rise to her cheeks. “I cannot contemplate marriage.” Yet hadn’t she already judged him superior to Mr. Lightwater and Mr. Kirby in every respect? “I must first rejoin family. Then perhaps my thoughts can turn in that direction.” The thought of family had once been dear but now crushed her spirits like a black storm cloud, for Tom would not be there.

“I understand.” Elizabeth pulled scarlet thread through the fabric. “You must realize that even if Tom escorts you to your family, he wouldn’t stay. He’s not a planter. He has the sea in his blood. I’m married to such a man. Nothing can keep them from the water.”

Deep inside, Catherine knew that. She must regain her life at Chêne Noir, though Tom could never bear to live there. Best to cut the ties between them now, before they got too strong. She must leave while he was busy salvaging the wreck, thus avoiding the heartache of parting.

How she had wept as the carriage carried her away from Deerford. She’d looked back as long as she could, trying to imprint every feature of the house and grounds in her memory. Though this parting wouldn’t be that severe, her heart had borne too much sorrow already. She must leave now.

“I will speak with the shipping agents in the morning.” She caught Elizabeth’s gaze. “Do ask if anyone you know will be going in that direction.”

“Send down the hook,” yelled an exasperated Jules from the water below.

Tom yanked his attention back to the task at hand and lowered the line with the hook secured to the end.

Upon arrival, he’d transferred to the James Patrick. There he’d seen firsthand how battered the wrecked Isaac Allerton was from its encounter with the reef. The crew had cut away the broken masts and managed to get it off the reef, only to have it sink in five fathoms of water. Only the strongest divers could manage that depth for any length of time. Jules was one of them. The scrawny lad swam like a porpoise.

“Pull!” yelled another diver who’d just surfaced.

The crew on Alderslade’s vessel, anchored on the other side of the Isaac Allerton, heaved on the line the diver had just secured to the wreck. Minutes later, a plank popped to the surface, and a cheer went up among the gathered fleet, as it had each time the maneuver succeeded in the past eight days. The moment the plank emerged, divers plummeted downward, eager to secure one of the now-freed crates for their vessels.

Jules was the first to reappear. “Heave!”

Tom joined the rest of the men on the James Patrick’s deck. The weight on this one meant Jules had secured the hook to cargo, not another plank. Soon they’d have spoils to fill their holds. Since the James Patrick had the smallest holds in the O’Malley fleet, it would head back to port first.

Tom would see Catherine soon. If she hadn’t left. That thought knotted his innards every time. Even if she survived the passage unscathed, what would happen to her once she arrived? Could she get to the family plantation? Who would meet her? No one would know she’d been delayed in Key West.

“Harder!” Rander yelled.

Tom snapped back to the present.

The line wasn’t budging.

“It’s hung up,” Jules yelled from just inside the bulwark, where he was dripping seawater all over the deck. “Hold fast and I’ll get it.”

“No!” Tom let go of the line and raced to stop Jules from attempting the dangerous dive. If the cable snapped and the heavy crate fell or shifted, Jules could be crushed or pinned. “Stop!”

But the lad dived into the sea.

Tom looked back at Rander, who understood the danger. The man had gone pale. Tom gnawed on his lip. Times like these made him question the risks they took. He’d once been as brash as Jules. Then he’d seen a diver trapped inside a hulk. Dead before anyone could get him out. Wrecking could pay handsomely, but it came at a high cost. No wonder men like Rourke now commanded ships and ran mercantiles rather than risk the dangerous dives. Wives could end up widows. Like Ma.

Tom’s insides knotted even tighter. Pa hadn’t taken unnecessary risks. He’d accepted a well-paying passenger on board. Mornez. Pa hadn’t questioned the man’s story. If he had, he might have discovered everything Mornez said was a lie. Instead of profit, the thief had taken Pa’s ship and livelihood.

Tom eyed the line, still holding taut, and then peered at the ocean. The murky green water had gotten stirred up again by strong winds from the southwest. He scanned the entire area. Jules should have surfaced by now.

“See anything?” Rander called out.

Tom shook his head. “I’m going in after him.”

He kicked off his shoes and stripped off his coat and shirt, but before he could climb onto the gunwale, a sharp thwang sounded. The men cried out. Tom turned to look back, and the severed line struck his temple.

The blow took him off his feet. He toppled over the rail and plummeted into the sea below.