“I can’t just do nothing.”
“Well, then.” He softly pats my hand. “There’s one place we haven’t looked—the cargo hold at the very bottom of the ship.”
“You still want to help me find Jerry after what I just told you?”
“If I were a stowaway, that’s where I’d hide. Plenty of food, water, and clothing, and other supplies are stored there.”
“Are you sure?”
“What have I been doing for the past few days if not helping you? You’re my girl—I mean, my best friend. Just because I know his name and why he’s after you doesn’t mean I’ll stop helping you.”
“Why, Robbie Barnes.” I smile. “I swear, if we weren’t in public, I’d give you a big kiss.”
He looks down shyly, shuffling his feet.
“Don’t go acting all romantic, Othella. It’s not like you.”
It’s almost midnight, and I find myself pacing in my stateroom, wide awake. Robbie’s suggestion was reasonable: to wait until morning and search in the cargo hold. But I’m neither patient nor reasonable. I trust my instincts. That’s how I stay alive.
The boat sways as the storm, which has been looming all day, finally strikes full force. Passengers have retreated to their staterooms for the night. I can hear a few sailors moving about the decks, making sure everything is secure.
I change out of my day dress into riding pants and a collared shirt, stuffing my pocketknife into my hip pocket. My loosely conceived plan is ready to be put to the test. I slip into the corridors, mindful of not being spotted by roaming sailors, and creep down the winding staircases until I reach the lowest level of the ship—the cargo hold.
It smells bad. The stench of urine and spit makes my eyes water. If Jerry is on board—and I know he is—this is where he’ll be, the filthiest, darkest, and creepiest level on the damn ship. I can hear the rats scampering, rodents darting from one spot to another as I pray that my Oxfords aren’t in their way.
Candlelight flickers in the distance. I move toward it.
“Jerry,” I whisper. “Jerry Merriweather. Is that you? I know you’re down here.”
“What the hell?” His gruff voice stops me in my tracks.
“It’s me, Othella.” Squinting into the shadows, my vision gradually adjusts to the dim light. Jerry sits on a cot in the corner, surrounded by a half wall of crates.
“Who’s there?”
“I said, it’s me, Othella.”
A laugh that sounds like a foghorn bounces off the walls. “Girl, you’ve got some nerve. Coming down here looking for me?”
“Why haven’t you tried to find me?”
“I wasn’t in a hurry to find you.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m not here to harm you.”
“That has to be a lie.” I watch him and reconsider my decision to confront him alone. He’s twice my size. “If you’re not here to hurt me, why are you on this ship?”
Jerry reaches for a nearby crate as if it were a nightstand and picks up a sterling silver cigarette case. He taps one cigarette out and lights it. I wait, not wanting to rush him. Plus, his puffing gives me a moment to consider what to do next and whether Jerry is telling the truth.
“Did Tony Schaefer send you to follow me? I betcha he did, didn’t he?”
“Perry always said you had a good head on your shoulders.” Jerry takes another drag from his cigarette. “Yeah. Tony sent me. He said you owed him an old man’s pocket watch. I’m here to take it back to Chicago.”
I laugh out loud. “Tony’s outta luck, sending you all this way for nothing. That old man, Major Thomas, didn’t have a pocket watch.”
“Come on, Othella, I saw you at that party. You took it from the major’s daughter, so hand it to me.”
