“It was quite exciting,” Margaret insisted. “Even if there wasn’t any gold.”
Ann rolled her eyes and went back to scrubbing a seat.
“Who wrote these documents?” Rhys asked.
“Likely an explorer,” Margaret answered.
“Not a pirate,” Ann added with disappointment, which he understood. A pirate’s chest would be more exciting than one belonging to an explorer.
“It was filled with journals, papers, drawings and books about plants and trees. That is how I learned that the island had been called Madinia, or L'Île aux Fleurs long ago.”
“In these drawings, were there any maps?” he asked.
Margaret frowned. “No. Why?”
“Just because he was an explorer didn’t mean that he also did not have a pirate’s treasure map and maybe that was why he was really here.”
“Now you are being ridiculous, Mr. McNaught.”
Her condescending tone was exactly the same as her eldest sister.
Nicoll, who had been at the end of the boat, stood and quietly whistled and before he knew what had happened, Ann had taken his bottle of rum and hid it under a bush just as Miss Driscoll stepped between the trees.
Rhys could only grin. The girls were on his side.
Tempest stopped and took in the scene of Mr. McNaught sitting on a log, measuring a piece of wood while her sisters scrubbed the boat that had brought them ashore.
“So, this is where you are. What are you all doing here? Look at their clothes.”
“They are my clothes,” Mr. McNaught reminded her.
“They are also filthy.” In the process of cleaning the boat, some had gotten blood on them, and others dirt. They had just finished the laundry and she would now need to wash five shirts and two pairs of trousers in addition to what Mr. McNaught was wearing.
“All of you, get back to the house,” she ordered her sisters. “We have a meal to prepare and more cleaning needs to be done.”
“We have cleaned everything from top to bottom,” Ruth argued.
“It does not take six of us to fix a meal,” Margaret insisted.
“We also need to make a list.”
“What kind of list?” Mr. McNaught asked.
“A list of supplies for when you next go to Fort-de-France.”
He stood. “I never said anything about going back into the town.”
Tempest fisted her hands on her hips. “You will need to if somebody does not come for us soon because we are soon to be out of eggs, bread and dried meats.”
“Why don’t I just bring back a cow and some chickens while I am at it.”
It was a sarcastic gest, of course, but that did not stop her response. “That would be more efficient, Mr. McNaught. Thank you for the suggestion.” She then smiled. “Come along girls.”
“We are helping Mr. McNaught clean the boat,” Ann whined.
“I am certain he will excuse you,” Tempest insisted, not certain how she felt about her sisters abandoning her to join him, especially when they had complained about cleaning the house but were quite happy scrubbing blood from a boat.
Was that jealousy?
