Captain Haig finally joined them, sliding ahead of Gray in the narrow passageway. “I’ll keep airing everything out,” he said in an overly bright voice, but they both knew the problem with importing food or textiles was that they could absorb the scent of camphor, so this place needed to be sanitized. Gray couldn’t risk tainting the freight.
“You haven’t fumigated?” Otis asked.
Haig snorted. “I was preparing the ship for coal. No one cares if coal picks up a scent.”
“Get it fumigated and sanitized,” Gray said as he strode toward the starboard hold to see if it smelled as strongly.
Captain Haig hurried to slide in front of him again. “I’ll get this side cleaned as well. Let’s head back to the boiler room. I’d like to show you how we got the feedwater system set up with new brass fittings. Those things won’t ever rust—”
“I’d like to see the starboard hold,” Gray said, his suspicions deepening. The doors to the hold were closed and locked, and that wasn’t protocol. If Captain Haig was hiding something in there, he needed to know.
“No need, Gray. I’ll get it fumigated within the next twenty-four hours.”
Gray tugged on the padlock, but it was secure. “What’s behind this door?” he asked quietly, sick at the thought that Captain Haig might be disloyal. There were only so many blows a man could take, and he was reaching the limit.
“Look, I’m just storing some cargo for a friend. It doesn’t concern you.”
“It does if it’s on my ship.” It was hot down here, and a sour taste filled Gray’s mouth.
“I’ll get it off,” Haig said.
“Not before I see it with my own eyes.”
If Haig was up to something illegal, he had to be stopped. Using thePelicanfor smuggling was anathema. Losing confidence in a man he considered a friend was even worse. Where was he going to find an experienced captain on such short notice?
Captain Haig folded his arms across his chest, a flinty look in his eyes. “I was doing a favor for your brother,” he said tightly.
Gray’s mind reeled. It was bad enough to use his ship for smuggling, butspying? Was thePelicanbeing used to transport weapons or supplies to the revolutionaries in Cuba?
“Open it,” he ordered, his voice lethally calm.
Captain Haig sighed and reached for his keys. Perspiration rolled down the side of Gray’s face, and he fought back waves of nausea. Even the clattering of the keys was painful as Haig jerked the lock from the door and opened the hold.
Gray stepped inside the mostly empty hold. It reeked of camphor, and his footsteps sounded unnaturally loud in the cavernous space. He raised a ship lantern, but it revealed only a dozen crates stacked against the far side of the hold. Gray grabbed a crowbar from the wall and strode to the nearest crate to pry off the lid. There could be anything in here. Guns, bullets, dynamite. Or, given Luke’s propensities, maybe incendiary literature intended to stoke the rebellion more effectively than dynamite could ever do.
Nails squeaked as he pried them free, then jerked the lid off the crate to reveal dozens of mason jars filled with some sort of pale substance. The plain glass jar he lifted was cool in his palm, and there was no label to identify what was inside.
He twisted off the lid and sniffed. Applesauce? The pieces started to click into place. He looked up at Captain Haig.
“What is it?” he asked, praying his suspicion was correct.
“Applesauce,” Haig replied. “Or at least what the Magruders were hoping to pass off to the world as applesauce.”
Relief rushed through Gray so fast, he almost felt dizzy. It was the plan Luke had told Gray about when he visited the prison. Gray didn’t want anything to do with Luke’s juvenile plot to embarrass the Magruders, but Captain Haig was obviously on board with it.
“You’re too old for this sort of thing,” Gray said with a reluctant smile at Haig.
A gleam flashed in the captain’s eyes, but in truth, Haig was the sort who never seemed to age. He was probably seventy, but his heart beat with the mischief of a daredevil. “You have to admit, it’s a wickedly clever plan.”
“It’s a ridiculous prank.”
Haig shrugged. “Maybe. My odds of pulling it off without Luke’s help aren’t so good. I don’t have the connections he did, but you do.”
Gray shook his head. “Don’t try to involve me in this. I’ve already told Luke I won’t have anything to do with it. In fact, I want this dreck off my ship. Dump it overboard.”
Otis stepped forward, both palms held out in appeal. “Don’t be hasty.”
Gray swiveled to gape at him. “Were you involved in this too?”
