Ghost Messages (4 page)

“Well, this is a knotty problem, isn’t it? You could end up spending the entire voyage in the brig; then it’s debtor’s prison for you if you can’t pay for your passage.”

She was shocked at this prospect. “But it was an accident! I didn’t mean to stay aboard. Surely, they’ll let me go?”

“Captain Anderson goes by the book, sure and simple. He’s not likely to give a stowaway, an
Irish
lass, no less, a free pass on his ship.”

Ailish pushed the panic away, regaining control, then voiced her thoughts. “I’m stuck. We’re at sea and there’s no way out. That’s plain enough. So, if I’m here I may as well take advantage of my predicament and go ahead with my original plan.”

Her companion smiled impishly. “So you did have a plan when you got yourself locked up in that box! What was this brilliant strategy, if I might ask?”

He seemed to be enjoying her unfortunate circumstances way too much. Ailish was about to give him a blast, but then she thought of what lay ahead.

If she was going to make her way on this ship all the way to Newfoundland and find her treasure as well, it would be much easier with help, someone who knew the workings of the ship, and though she wasn’t able to discern whether he was good or bad, she decided to take a leap of faith and trust Davy anyway. She would take Mr. Jones into her confidence.

“You see, I’m here to reclaim my property from Rufus Dalton.”

His eyebrow arched. “Your property?”

“Yes, mine, or at least my family’s. Last night, Dalton took a valuable statue of a golden horse from my da, thrashed him badly to do it too, and I’m here to get it back. I can’t leave without that horse, Davy. It’s our future.” She hoped he’d understand how important this was.

She need not have worried. He immediately nodded, a frown creasing his brow.

“I can’t abide thieving! I stay below working and try not to interfere in anyone’s business, but sometimes, I must get involved and it’s plain to see, this is one of those times. You have to stay aboard, alright.”

“The trick’s in not being discovered. There must be a way.”

Davy thought about this. “You know, not so long ago, the
Great Eastern
was a luxury liner complete with cabin boys who tended to the needs of the ladies and gentlemen...”

Ailish immediately saw where this was going. “A cabin boy! Of course. The only problem being,
I’m obviously a girl.”
She planted her fists firmly on her hips and lifted her chin haughtily.

Davy looked her up and down, and then grinned wickedly. “I don’t think that’s a big problem. With a little decoration, we could easily hide your feminine side. I have some old clothes stored that you could wear, a disguise to hide your
obviously
being a girl and all.”

The way he smirked made Ailish want to box his ears. True, she was a wee bit skinny and had no womanly curves yet, but that was no reason to mock her. She touched her waist-length hair. It was thick and framed her face in a mass of soft dark waves. Her crowning glory was the other gift she’d inherited from her ma and there was no denying it was truly feminine. “What about this?”

“Nothing to worry about, lass.” Davy said appraising her coolly. “Cut it off.”

Ailish stared at him in disbelief.
“Cut it off!
Are you daft?”

“It’s not like an arm or a leg and the stuff will grow back.”

Ailish didn’t know what to say. Cut off her beautiful hair? Unthinkable! Then she thought of the little golden horse. She would have to be in disguise while she tracked down the treasure and her da had always said the best place to hide was in plain sight. Besides, she really had no choice.

Her shoulders slumped. “Where are the clothes?”

“Back there’s a disused storage room where my sea locker’s stowed.” He indicated the rear of the hold. “Davy Jones locker, you might say. In it, you’ll find most everything you need.” He chuckled. “That mop of hair you’ll have to deal with yourself.”

“Mop, indeed!” She sniffed. “There are other problems. Where will I sleep? And don’t suggest my crate! And eating – what about food?”

Davy dismissed these concerns with a wave of his hand. “Silly questions. Before it was gutted and the three cable tanks put in, this ship was designed to carry four thousand passengers and our staterooms are fit for kings and queens. There are several still held ready in case we have fancy visitors, so you could easily bunk in one of them. The rest of the crew is berthed in steerage and won’t be bothering you in those fancy digs.”

Davy carefully told her how to find her way through the ship to Stateroom A and to the galley to nab a bite of food.

“And as for the other things that need attending … there are heads,
toilets,”
he explained, “on each deck and a private facility in your quarters. The rest is up to you, but if it were me, I’d try to stay out of the captain’s sight as long as possible.”

Ailish could see this would be prudent. She may be able to fool the rest of the crew with a bit of blather, but not the captain. He’d be sure to know all those who sailed on his vessel. “I’ll be invisible,” she assured him.

Wending her way past a scatter of crates, Ailish went to the small storage room. In it were stacks of coiled wire rope and other ship’s supplies as well as an ancient wooden locker on the floor. She opened it and there were the promised clothes. Holding them up, she saw they were dusty, but they’d fit her well enough. She tried on the striped shirt, which was only a little large, then the funny britches that, on her, tied at her ankles instead of below the knee as they had on Davy. She laughed as she pulled the green suspenders over her shoulders. The lads back home would never wear clothes like this. The styles were so old-fashioned. She guessed Davy didn’t get to port often to buy new or more likely, he was like her with very few pennies to spare. This made her like him even more.

Reaching into the pocket of her trousers, she felt something hard at the bottom. Withdrawing her hand, she found an iron rivet, rusted and bent. She wondered why he would have kept such an old thing. Maybe for bash boys, it was a lucky talisman. She tucked the rivet back in her pocket.

Dealing with her hair was a problem. How would she cut it without shears?

“There’s a fair to middling sharp knife in that tool box.” Davy’s voice from the door made her jump.

He was leaning against the door jamb, arms folded as casual as a king, watching her. Her face flushed. “How long have you been standing there?” she demanded.

“Be at ease, lass. I wasn’t spying on you and your feminine self. I came to warn you that in five minutes, a work gang is coming to shift the cargo.”

Ailish hurried to the box he’d indicated and, rummaging in the tools, found the knife. She picked up a hank of her silken hair and swallowed. Her da would be dreadfully disappointed – he loved her “glorious tresses” which reminded him, he said, of her ma. Then she thought of that scoundrel Dalton and the fabulous horse and her poor father lying in all that blood. She closed her eyes and sawed at the hair until it fell away. Feeling slightly sick, she picked up another handful and chopped. Soon, her shoes were covered with her crowning glory.

Ailish returned the knife to the box and rubbed her shorn locks. She couldn’t imagine what a fright she must look.

“Now you fit the part of a proper cabin boy.” Davy nodded approvingly. “We’d best be going, it’s late. We’re well into midwatch and I know Charlie will be hankering to deal with those worn rivets in the outer hull near the bow.”

“Outer hull?” she asked, stuffing her discarded clothes into the trunk to hide them from the prying eyes of any who might wander in.

“I told you my ship is double hulled.” Davy went on with his chatter as they wended their way through the crates and boxes. “First of her kind in the world. She has two complete hulls, one inside the other with three feet between ’em, which makes her unsinkable, but does require twice the work from me and Charlie. I spend most of my time down there with him. He’s a real tyrant.”

They reached the stairs and Ailish was about to start up, when she paused to smile at her new friend. “Thanks, Davy.”

“Welcome aboard the
Great Eastern
, Ailish.” He gave her a jaunty salute, before sauntering off.

4

Disaster!

…. --- .-- .-- .. -.. . .-- .- … - …. . -.-. .- -… .-.. .

The climb took an eternity, but the rumbling
protests
from Ailish’s belly told her it was prudent to find food before continuing the journey to her quarters. The instructions Davy had given her had been from the stateroom, not belowdecks, but she was pretty sure she was heading toward the kitchen. No, galley, she corrected herself. If she was going to pass for a salty cabin boy, she must remember details like calling the kitchen, the galley, and the toilet, the head.

Opening a final hatchway, Ailish suddenly found herself on the main deck, and was immediately rocked back on her heels. She’d had no idea of the time but was still surprised to discover it was a moonlit night with puffy clouds silhouetted in silver. The vast bowl of the sky overhead was tranquil, but the world around her was something from a hurly-burly nightmare.

The frantic clanging of a loud gong made Ailish want to cover her ears as she watched men scramble madly about, some shouting orders while others ran to the machinery that screeched and rumbled as though possessed by demons. It was mayhem.

Gawking around, she stared in awe at the gigantic ship, wondering how anything this big and made of iron could float! The deck stretched forever, covered in polished wood from a forest of trees. Six towering masts scraped the sky as five huge funnels billowed black smoke. On each side of the massive deck was a giant paddlewheel more than fifty feet across. The
Great Eastern
was truly a wonder.

Ailish took a deep breath, drawing in the fresh ocean air, then stopped. Unexpectedly, on the evening breeze she caught a faint whiff of… manure! Very strange and – she wrinkled her nose – very disgusting.

Moving forward hesitantly, she tried to orient herself and decide what to do next. Without warning, she was knocked to the ground as a heavy-set figure ran into her. Her cheek burned where it scraped on the wooden deck.

“Get out of my way, you stupid boy, before I toss you into the drink.”

Ailish stared up into the shadowed face of Rufus Dalton. She hastily turned away, praying her disguise would be successful and nothing about the new look would jog her enemy’s memory.

He raised his boot to give her a kick, but before he could land the blow, she was lifted out of harm’s way. Someone had come onto deck behind her. As the newcomer set her down, she felt a flood of tingling warmth and goodness.

“Leave the lad alone, Dalton.”

Paddy Whelan had saved her again and from his touch, Ailish was assured he was not a man to be feared.

Dalton sneered. “You have a way of vexing me that could end up very unhealthy, Whelan.”

The big man shoved past Paddy and Ailish as he strode down the deck snarling orders.

“Are you alright, lad?” her rescuer asked, peering at her with concern.

“Yes, sir, thank you. What’s happened?” She indicated the bedlam around them.

He gave her a funny look and Ailish wondered if he recognized her, then she dismissed the idea. The light this morning had been dim and she’d had her shawl covering her head, not to mention a skirt below. He must simply think she was thick not to know what the noise was about.

“I was in the cable tank working when the gong went off. It’s a disaster, lad. We’re barely eighty-two miles from Foilhummerum Bay and the cable has stopped sending. That’s what the clanging is about. They ring the gong when the signal stops.” He appeared puzzled by her. “You seem somewhat familiar, boy. My name is Paddy Whelan and who might you be?”

“I’m…” she thought fast. “O’Connor, sir, and I work here.” She wondered if she should spit or scratch or do some other disgusting boyish thing, but found she was still too much of a young lady to try.

Paddy laughed, a rich, deep sound. “Well now, O’Connor. There are five hundred men working on this ship and you have to be the shortest crew mate I’ve seen.”

Ailish felt her face grow hot. “Actually, I’m a cabin boy, a
new
cabin boy and this,” she indicated the madhouse around them, “is a bit overwhelming.”

“Then until you get your sea legs, you’d best stay with me. Come on, lad.”

Not sure if cabin boys were allowed to say no to actual sailors, Ailish obediently followed Paddy.

“Where are we going?” she asked as they dodged their way around several structures. She didn’t like being out in the open inviting questions about who she was and what she was doing here.

“Past these cabooses,” he pointed at the small cabins scattered about like so many squatters, before rounding a larger building and emerging onto the far side of the ship, “to the port promenade deck of the ship. Welcome to Oxford Street, O’Connor.”

He motioned to the long expanse of deck and the wooden trough that ran nearly the length of the ship itself. “This is where the real work is done. You see, when we’re laying the cable, it’s winched out of the tanks and runs along this trough then it’s carefully fed over the stern and into the ocean. It works fine until the signal stops. Then we have to raise the cable back out of the sea and repair the break. It’s a perilous job. We can’t put the machine in reverse to wind the cable back aboard, so it must be shackled from the yardarm and cut, then carried all the way from the stern to the bow.”