Samantha led her to the main cabin. “I’m going to go help. Why don’t you get yourself situated? Feel free to change, or not.” She winked.
Josephine paused with her hand on one of the carved doors. “You help out on the ship?”
Samantha’s lips curved. “But of course. It is my ship after all.”
“Yours?”
“It was a wedding gift from Christian.” With another grin, she spun and headed toward the quarterdeck.
When the door shut, Josephine dropped her rolled up hammock. Sunlight streamed through windows along one wall of the spacious room, glistening from oiled floorboards. The pleasant scent of lemon filled the air and she walked over to a wall of built-in shelving. Anextraordinary collection of shells lined two of the shelves, and Josephine couldn’t help reaching out to pick up a few.
The carved desk in the center of the cabin drew her attention and she stepped over. Two large chairs were pushed in, one on either side. A double set of maps and navigational instruments were laid out. Her lips parted. Samantha didn’t only own the ship, it looked as though she and her husband split captaining duties. Fascinating.
She grinned at the differences between both sides of the desk. On one side, items laid in disarray, the bent corners of the topmost map weighed down by shells. The other, everything lined up neatly, maps crisp and flat. Her hand drifted forward to brush the cool brass of a weathered compass. A stack of paper, tied together with twine, sat directly in the middle of the maps with a single word scrawled across it:Thorne.
She glanced between the desk and the doors. Snooping in the Thompsons’ paperwork was the last thing she should do. Still, the chance to know more about what they were heading into pulled at her.Not now.With a swallow, she turned to her hammock and began unpacking her things. Plenty of time to learn more during the rest of the journey.
*
Josephine leaned againstthe railing on the quarterdeck where the lights of Wilmington stretched before her. She glanced up to the crow’s nest, where Samantha had climbed as soon as they had tied up to the dock. With a shudder, she lowered her gaze. Not a spot she would ever be inclined to visit.
Masculine voices floated up and she edged toward the rail overlooking the main deck. Her heart skipped a beat when the lieutenant came into view, standing next to Christian.
“I want to go ashore now, before word spreads that the Navy hasarrived. If there’s any smugglers or pirates around, they will clear out by tomorrow.” Lieutenant Caldwell strode to the railing. “I know you want to interview survivors, but if we go to a tavern without announcing who we are, we may be able to glean important information from those sorts. The attack happened right off shore here, so it’s possible Thorne or his men visited the town.”
“I suppose it won’t hurt. I’ll have to change into something more casual.” Christian looked the lieutenant up and down. “So will you.”
With a nod, the lieutenant turned and headed toward the gangplank. “I’ll meet you in a quarter hour.”
After Christian descended below deck, Josephine gave one last look up the main mast, then made her way to the cabin. If the last day and a half had given any indication, Samantha would stay up there for over an hour. Watching her captain the ship had been a treat. The men listened to her as well as they did Christian, and Samantha knew everything about theSiren, never faltering in her instructions to the crew.
In the cabin, she passed the hammock she’d hung from the rafters and sank into a chair at the desk. The stack of parchment from yesterday had disappeared when Christian had retrieved his things. Should have looked when she had the chance. Never mind. Tonight, while the men were ashore, she’d ask Samantha to tell her everything.
Meanwhile, she should get to work on the letter she’d decided to write. If the lieutenant could send her father a missive, so could she. Perhaps she could convince him to let her stay with the Ross family longer. Not likely, but she had to try.
She eased open a drawer, looking for fresh parchment. Nothing but a knife and logbook. The next drawer revealed a few blank sheets and she grinned. As she lifted the top one, her fingers shifted the stack and a string of twine peeked out. She paused. Could it be? Pushing the sheets back, her pulse jumped. It was.
Pulling the stack free, she set it on the desk in front of her. With ahurried look behind her at the closed doors, she leaned forward and untied the string holding it together, shuffling through the pages within. Some had ship names and crew manifests while others had hastily written notes about eyewitness accounts of Thorne.
Brutal. Cruel. Merciless. No survivors.
She shivered at the words that seemed to repeat themselves over and over again. Another page had a sketch of a man—middle aged, prominent eyebrows, and a well-manicured beard. Handsome in a rugged way. She blinked at the words scrawled below the portrait.
Captain Thorne.
She’d never seen him in person. Anytime his ship had sailed into the harbor in Tortuga, her father refused to let her leave the house. Not that it mattered. He rarely came ashore, sending his giants to do his business instead. Colette said she’d seen him once, that he was good looking until you saw his eyes. Soulless, she’d said—the eyes of a monster.
With a shudder, Josephine turned the page over and sucked in a breath. “What in the…”
Her fingers trembled as they slid over the paper, tracing a drawing there. She fumbled with the ribbon around her neck and pulled it over her head. The key slipped from her grasp, falling onto the page with a hollow clink. A cold dread spread through her veins, settling like a stone in her heart.
The drawing matched the carving at the key’s bow.
She shook her head as her eyes darted back and forth between the drawing and the key. The palm fronds. The skull. The Latin inscription. All of it the same.
An address had been written neatly below it.
15 Queen St.
