Part 4 (1/2)

”Maybe ghosties comin' for ye,” the other snorted.

”Nay, man, I heard something. What's in that room?”

Ailish stared at the door k.n.o.b, watching for it to turn. Holding her breath, she waited, and waiteda ”You need to lay off the grog,” the second ruffian growled; then, like a prayer answered, the footsteps continued and the voices faded.

She exhaled with relief. That had been too close. She couldn't risk one more minute here. Edging the door open a crack, she checked to make sure the coast was clear, then hurriedly left the playroom feeling like a child in a game of hide and seek with Stateroom A hiding and her seeking.

Some of the corridors looked suspiciously familiar and Ailish wondered how many times she'd been down the same ones. She had no choice but to find Davy and plead with him to show her the way. She hated the idea of grovelling but had resigned herself to the upcoming humiliation when at the end of the next corridor, a sign pointed to First Cla.s.s Accommodations.

Hope made her feel giddy as she hurried forward. Surely this was where she'd find her quarters. Relief quickly turned to awe as she walked toward the tall double doors marked Stateroom A. They were oak with ornate flowers and vines carved across the polished surface.

Gingerly, she twisted the handle only to have her hope sink. It held fast. She was locked out. The benefits from her nap had long since worn off and weariness weighted her eyelids again. She slumped to the floor. Now what? Looking up and down the hallway, she saw nothing she could use to help her open the door.

She noticed the small section of floor near her was scratched. It was out of place as it was the only portion of the s.h.i.+ny wooden hardwood that was marred in any way. She peered closer. If she scrunched her eyes just right, there appeared to be letters written in the scratches.

Silly, but she could have sworn the letters looked like T-R-Y. Sure, she'd try, but try what? She scrutinized the solidly locked door keeping her away from her soft bed. Yes, of course, try again! The room hadn't been used in a while; maybe the door was simply stuck. She jumped up and grabbed the handle firmly twisting it but met the same stubborn resistance as before. Now breaching the door became a personal challenge. It was the same story she and every other Irishman knew too well a” a fancy, rich English barrier keeping her from her heart's desire. Well, she'd see about that!

Steeling herself, Ailish backed up and launched herself at the stubborn wood, hitting it hard with her shoulder. She was sure she'd have a bruise, but it had been worth it as, with a reluctant groan, the elaborate door surrendered and swung wide.

Giving the hallway a quick check to make sure no one had heard the commotion, she stepped inside.

Her mouth dropped open as she took in the large room. The double-decked berths were draped with sumptuous curtains of red velvet and the plush chairs and couch made her want to swoon. There were gas lights in filigree sconces on the walls, a writing desk and overstuffed chair and a rich Persian carpet on the floor. Did ordinary people actually live in splendor like this? The only person she knew who enjoyed this level of pampering was Uncle Peter, and he was a knight with a castle! Perhaps this had been the accommodation of kings and queens.

She unlaced her boots, quickly kicking them off, and then squished her toes in the thick carpet, sighing with pleasure. A reflection in the large gilded mirror caught her eye and she stopped. Who was that scarecrow looking back?

Her chopped auburn hair stuck out at all angles and her sunken cheekbones made her cornflower blue eyes look enormous. With her shabby clothes and dirty face, she looked like an urchin from the backstreets of Dublin.

Moving to the washstand, Ailish was delighted to see fresh water in the pitcher. Piling her clothes on the beautiful couch, she poured a generous splash into the delicate porcelain bowl and cleaned up as best she could. With trembling fingers, she clambered into the snug, soft bed and lay back with a sigh. The cotton sheets were crisp and the feather counterpane was as light as... well, as a feather! She thought of her da and sent him a good-night kiss. Drifting off, she couldn't help but feel she'd found a safe harbour here in her luxury digs and that, there was no denying, she owed to Mr. Davy Jones.

7.

Dirty Business

.-- a. .- - -.. . -.-. --- .-. .- - . -.. - a. . .--. .. .--. .

The next morning, Ailish awoke starving. Even a good old potato fry-up would be a treat. It was odd how, not having it, one could miss and desire the very thing one had tried to escape. Stretching, she looked around the wonderful room, half expecting it to be a dream, but was pleased to find herself still surrounded by the riches she'd found the night before. She kicked off the sumptuous comforter and prepared to start her day. Food was top of her list, followed closely by tracking and spying on Dalton.

Ailish washed and dressed in a hurry, then set out for the galley. Davy's directions floated in her head, but nothing made sense when she tried to apply it to the actual layout of the s.h.i.+p. She poked about for a while, afraid of repeating yesterday's disastrous route march, then decided to follow the herd and tucked into line behind a group of fine-looking gentlemen who were chatting about what they would have for breakfast.

In the s.p.a.cious dining room, Ailish was again astounded by the grandness of the Great Eastern. The white linen cloths on the tables accented the fine china and crystal gla.s.ses, large oil paintings adorned the walls and brocade upholstery covered the chairs.

As she watched, a waiter took a gentleman's order and disappeared into what had to be the galley. Ailish followed at a discreet distance. She slid into the room behind the waiter and felt her mouth water with the delicious smells that greeted her. She would stock up with as much food as possible before making her escape.

On a cooling rack, a large stack of fragrant fresh-from-the-oven buns sat waiting in a basket. The delicious smell was so enticing, it made her dizzy. She crouched below the countertop, then carefully reached up and felt around blindly searching for the tasty morsels.

”Ouch!” A stinging slap made her draw her hand back.

”What do you think you're doing?”

A giant of a man with a large bushy moustache towered over her, brandis.h.i.+ng a long soup ladle like a sceptre.

”I'm the new cabin boy,” she faltered, ”and I was looking for a bite of food. You have so much here; I didn't think you'd miss a bit.” She edged backward toward the door. ”I'm sorry to have bothered you, sir.”

The rotund man laughed heartily. ”I don't care who you are and there's no need to steal food aboard this s.h.i.+p. There's plenty for all.”

He tossed her one of the warm buns and Ailish stopped her retreat. Plenty was not a word she'd ever a.s.sociated with food a” meagre, spa.r.s.e, scarce, yes, but never plenty.

As she ravenously devoured the best bread roll in the history of the world, the cook began piling all manner of good things onto a large plate. ”On deck, we have a cattle pen with ten bullocks, one milk cow, one hundred and fourteen sheep, twenty pigs, twenty nine geese, fourteen turkeys and five hundred other fowl! We certainly have food enough to feed a s.h.i.+pwrecked waif like you.”

Ailish's stomach let out a loud rumble of appreciation and the cook roared with laughter again. The animal smell she'd sniffed when she'd first gone on deck was now explained. The variety of creatures on board sounded like the pa.s.senger list from Noah's Ark!

He pa.s.sed her the mile-high mountain of savoury food. ”You come back here any time you're feeling peckish between meals and Henry will fix you up fine.” He twirled and spun the ladle in a display as elaborate as any performed by a drum major. ”But in future, Henry thinks you should eat your meals in the crew's mess. The gentlemen you find in this salon” a” he motioned to the grand dining hall with the ladle a” ”they like to talk about work, and that's about all they have to do with it. With the crew, you'll find a cla.s.s of men who not only know the value of hard work, but can ably perform those duties and you are sure to enjoy their company more.”

Henry the cook told her where the crew took their meals, then turned back to his army of a.s.sistants while Ailish wondered how long it would take her to eat the generous feast.

She made her way to the crew's mess where she found a hidden corner, away from the boisterous men, to enjoy her bounty in peace. There was no way she could finish the enormous plateful, but she tried her best. As she sat back stuffed and well contented, her stomach rolled and a loud belch erupted from her belly, making her face flush with embarra.s.sment. She glanced around to see if anyone had heard her and saw Rufus Dalton leaving the mess. She'd been so busy gobbling her food that she hadn't noticed him come in.

Ailish dusted the crumbs from her hands. No matter a” it was perfect timing; she was finished and he was on his way out. Depositing her dishes in a kitchen trolley, she left to follow her prey.

Once on deck, Ailish hid behind a caboose to watch Dalton as he went about ordering his men to the various tasks involved in laying the cable, fixing machinery and running the s.h.i.+p.

After a couple of hours, she began to lose hope that he would do anything but normal boring work. At this rate, finding the horse would take much longer than she had thought.

Around mid-morning, Dalton walked over to one of the crew. ”I'm going to take an early dinner. I'll be back in an hour.”

Ailish was still full as a tick from her enormous breakfast, but she wasn't about to let Dalton out of her sight now and stealthily followed him belowdecks.

She was surprised when, instead of going to the crew's mess, he took a set of stairs she'd never seen before. They pa.s.sed no sailors as they descended into the deepest regions of the giant s.h.i.+p. She'd never been this far down into the belly of the Great Eastern. The noise of the engines grew louder and the light became poorer the further they went.

Being careful to stay a safe distance behind, she watched as Dalton spun a large wheel on an iron hatchway marked Boiler Room. She waited until he'd entered and closed the heavy door then dashed to follow, praying the hatch wasn't too ma.s.sive for her to manoeuver. Struggling, Ailish managed to pry the door open wide enough to slip through, then with a gigantic effort, pulled it shut and spun the wheel. She didn't like the idea of sealing herself in with Dalton, but neither did she want to be discovered because she was careless and left a door open.

The world that greeted her was one conjured from a nightmare. Surrounding her were eight gigantic boilers that groaned and moaned, hissing like restless dragons. Eerie red fingers of light came from huge furnaces into which men ceaselessly shovelled large piles of coal and beyond, a ma.s.s of machinery clanged and howled. The noise was deafening and the heat suffocating.

Ahead of her she could see more coal, mountains of it! Everywhere she looked, there was coal. She remembered when she'd first met Dalton that fateful night back in Foilhummerum Bay, he'd boasted the Great Eastern carried fifteen thousand tons of coal, enough to sail nearly around the world. At the time she'd thought it impossible; now she believed every word.

Dalton was nowhere to be seen. She walked up to a dust-blackened sailor; sweat gleamed on his s.h.i.+rtless back as he toiled with a shovel. ”Excuse me, have you seen Mr. Dalton?”

The man pointed toward a black opening in the wall. ”That's the tunnel that runs through the coal bunkers. He went in there.”