2

Secret Message

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Ailish wasn’t sure she was doing the right thing leaving her injured father with Mrs. Murphy, but if she were going to find Dalton, she had to act fast. Pulling her paisley shawl over her head to ward off the chill, she ran through the pre-dawn darkness to the dock. She had to stop the low dog before he made it back to his ship.

Rounding a tall stack of crates, she saw an early morning dockworker busily writing on a piece of paper. “Excuse me, sir,” she asked, her breathing laboured from her run. “Have ye seen a bloke called Rufus Dalton? My da sent me to give him a message.”

“You’re too late, miss.” He nodded in the direction of the harbour.

Ailish looked to the sea and there, silhouetted by the thin strip of pink dawn light, a small ship steamed out of the bay. She knew it would be the ferry to the huge cable-laying ship, docked far out in the bay because of its size.

“Oh no, no, no!” she wailed, watching as her quarry slipped like quicksilver from her grasp. “He can’t get away this easily!”

Concern at her plea was plain on the sailor’s face as he tried to reassure her. “Come now, don’t fret, lass. I work on the Great Eastern and will be taking these last crates out to her before we sail. Tell me your message and I’ll give it to Dalton when I see him.” His rich Irish brogue was warm and friendly.

Ailish shook her head dejectedly. “Don’t trouble yourself, sir. You were right, it’s too late.” She turned and slowly walked away.

She’d failed. It was her fault her father had been hurt and now she had to tell him she’d let their hope for the future sail away.

Climbing atop one of the wooden crates, Ailish sat and tried to think of what to do next. She had to get that statue back, but how? As she wiggled trying to get more comfortable, the rough wood snagged her pantalets tearing a small hole in the undergarment. She pulled her dress further down to hide the tiny embarrassment and as she did so, the lid wobbled. The crate must not be nailed shut.

Jumping off, she pushed on the heavy cover and managed to move it enough to look inside. The crate held bits and bobs of machinery, but there was enough room for a thin girl to hide within. She smiled as a crazy idea flashed into her mind.

She’d follow Dalton to the ship; then while they were unloading the cargo, she’d find the statue, steal it back, and return to shore with the ferry before anyone was the wiser.

Checking to make sure the dockworker was busy, Ailish clambered into the large box, sliding the lid back into place behind her. A crack in her wooden canopy let a tiny sliver of early morning light into the crowded compartment and the smell of the fresh salt air had a tang to it. If this crate was going to the Great Eastern, then so was she.

Yawning, she settled in to wait.

– - • – –

Ailish awoke with a start. Rubbing her eyes, she uncurled and tried to stretch her cramped muscles.

The air smelled differently now. She caught a whiff of oil and the bite of metal. She must already be aboard the ship, which meant it was time to find Rufus Dalton and the treasure. Struggling to her knees, Ailish reached over her head and pushed on the lid.

It wouldn’t move.

She pushed again, but still the stubborn wood refused to budge.

Fear prickled her scalp as she looked up. No splinter of light showed through the rough-hewn boards. Furtively searching, she found an empty knothole in the side of the crate. Pressing her eye to the opening, Ailish peered out.

She was indeed in the Great Eastern’s cavernous hold surrounded by stacks of boxes in all sizes and shapes. But if there was no light coming through the lid, that could mean only one thing – another crate was piled on top of hers.

She was trapped!

Should she call out? Who would hear? And if they did rescue her, she knew they’d send her back to shore before she had a chance to find what she’d come for. The thought of Dalton getting away made her hold her tongue. She’d wait a while at least, and hope someone came to move the top crate and free her from this wooden prison.

Time crawled painfully past while she listened to the clangs and bangs as the ship was loaded.

Finally, Ailish could wait no longer. She had to use the privy and that meant getting out of her wooden nest before she had a mortifying accident. If she had to give herself away, so be it. At that moment, she heard footsteps loudly clomping down metal stairs and then coming toward her across the iron floor. Panic seized her. Was it Dalton? After what he’d done to her father, she knew he was capable of terrible violence.

Carefully, she put her eye to the knothole, afraid of whom she’d discover on the other side.

Relief bubbled up like soapsuds. It was the same kind sailor from the dock. Ailish scrunched her eyes and reached out with her mind. She felt no darkness, no shadows from this man which was a very good thing as there was no choice. She had to call to him for help.

Ailish wasn’t sure how she’d explain being bunged up in that crate, but something would come to her. Taking a deep breath, she opened her mouth to yell, when a bone-racking shiver sliced down her back, freezing the air in her lungs.

Another set of footsteps was approaching.

“Well, if it isn’t Paddy Whelan. I’ve been lookin’ for you.”

The growl was unmistakable. This time, it was Rufus Dalton.

Ailish peeked through her spy hole. The man Dalton addressed was her rescuer. Paddy Whelan, a fine Irish name! She felt as if they were friends already.

“Who told you to come down here?” the Englishman asked tersely.

“That’s a good question,” Paddy replied. “I received a message, an unsigned note telling me to go below and stow this more securely.” He stepped forward; there was a scraping sound and a shaft of light slid through the crack in the lid of Ailish’s hideaway. “Someone was worried it would fall over and smash if we hit rough water. They must not know much about this ship.” Paddy set the crate he was holding into an empty corner, then started back toward the stairs.

“Wait right there, sailor.” Dalton took one long stride, reached out a meaty hand and spun Paddy around. “I’m cable crew chief and I’ll tell you when you can go.”

From her secret vantage point, Ailish saw Paddy’s jaw muscles tighten in a very distinct way. If the man had hackles, they would have been up.

“I found out a couple of interesting things about you.” Dalton’s fleshy lips sneered. “You brought a lot of money on board this ship, eighty pounds, to be precise.”

Ailish sucked in her breath. Eighty pounds! Besides Uncle Peter, this made Paddy Whelan the richest Irishman she’d ever met. If she and her da had that kind of money, they could have gone to Newfoundland and lived like kings, or maybe a king and a princess.

Paddy’s eyes grew wide with astonishment. “How do you know that?”

Dalton snorted. “The captain may be the boss above decks, but make no mistake, down below, I run this ship. One of my lads overheard you tell the purser about the cash when you had him lock it in the safe.”

“That money is for my family.” Paddy said defensively. “I sold our land in Ireland and we’re going to make a fresh start in Canada.”

“I’d say that may be tough to do once I show the captain this…”

As Ailish watched, Dalton held up a copy of the London Illustrated News. The outsize headline read “Fenian Traitors Plan To Wreck Transatlantic Cable!”

“If anything were to happen to the cable now, everyone will know an Irishman’s to blame and this will show them which lying dog it was.” Dalton pointed to the large picture under the headline and Paddy leaned forward to peer at it closely.

“That’s rubbish! I’m not a Fenian!” he protested indignantly. “I was at the meeting, yes, because the Fenians wish a free Ireland and so do I. I went to listen, but when they started talking violence, I wanted no part of it. That picture was taken moments before I left.”

“It looks like proof of a plot to me. If I show Captain Anderson, he’ll throw you in the brig to make sure nothing happens to his precious cable, and then he’ll turn you over to the police when we reach Newfoundland. They’ll lock you up and hire a hangman.” The corners of Dalton’s mouth turned up in a sly smile. “Or we could do a private deal and the captain need never see this.”

“Why, you rotten... You’ll not get that eighty pounds! It’s all the money my family has.” Paddy took a menacing step toward Dalton, who stumbled backward in his haste to avoid the angry sailor.

“Back off, Whelan! I told you, belowdecks I run this ship, and you could end up having a little accident.”

“Don’t threaten me, Dalton. Do what you must. I won’t give you one farthing.” Paddy spun on his heel and stalked away.

Dalton watched him leave before following at a safe distance.

Ailish wasn’t sure what to make of their argument, but did know she now had a chance to follow the low-life thief who had stolen her treasure. She shoved on the crude wooden lid. With a groan of protest, it slid open and she hopped out, pushing it back into place behind her.

Trying not to make any noise on the cold iron floor, she hurried toward the stairs. With a little luck, she could catch up with Dalton and hopefully, he’d lead her to the fabulous horse.

She’d reached the bottom stair when she heard men’s voices coming from above.

Looking around, Ailish frantically tried to find someplace to take cover. Her crate was far across the hold and she’d never have time to crawl back in without the sailors seeing her.

“Over here! Hurry, miss!” The command came to her from behind several large wooden barrels that were stacked beside the stairs.

Surprised, Ailish stopped, unsure she’d heard right.

“Come on!” the voice urged again, this time, with a distinct note of irritation.

Peering into the darkness, she tried to see who’d spoken. Should she trust this unknown rescuer? She had to. There was no time to investigate if whoever owned this mystery voice would be any more dangerous than the men coming. She darted for the barrels and squeezed herself into the small space behind them.

A boy about her age, with curly dark hair and a mischievous look about him, squatted there. Hoping she was doing the right thing, she squished herself beside him.

Together, Ailish and her new ally watched as two gruff looking men climbed down the stairs then strode over to the very crate she’d been hiding in and wrenched the lid off. She gulped.

They lifted out several machine parts then replaced the lid, nailing it shut before leaving.

Ailish couldn’t believe it. If it hadn’t been for this stranger, she would have run right into the sailors on the stairs, or worse, they would have found her cowering in the wooden box.