Call of the Sea (16 page)

Ellie blinked. “What?”
I don’t make sense?

“Forget it.” He stepped out of her way, huffed. “The office it is.” Daniel started back down the road.

Her nails bit into her palms as Ellie willed them to remain at her sides, not reach for him, make him explain himself. She gnawed her lip.
How do I keep managing to say the wrong things?

She used the rest of the trip to her father’s office trying to figure out the answer to her question. To her thinking, she’d only accepted facts.
The Siren’s Call
didn’t belong to her. She hadn’t put up a fuss or pitched a fit, just accepted it because it was what Papa wanted.
How can that upset him?

Ellie had to hurry to keep up with Daniel’s long strides. By the time they reached the office, she was winded and hot.

Daniel plucked the keys from his pocket and stuffed one into the door lock. A twist and click later, they were inside.

Papa’s desk resembled the one on his ship. Papers were strewn in a seemingly random assortment across the entire surface. A half empty bottle of brown liquid sat atop a haphazardly stacked pile of books, and scrolls and maps poked out here and there in every conceivable direction.

“Here.” Daniel handed her the key ring. “The little brass one fits the safe.”

“I didn’t mean to upset you before. I only mea–”

Daniel held up a hand, halting her words. “You don’t need to explain. You don’t know me. I can’t expect you to take me at my word. Nor can I explain what your father meant to me.” He pointed out the dirty front window. “What that ship out there means to me. It was a home when I had none, and your father…” He cleared his throat. “But you don’t know any of that, so why would you believe a word I say? Why wouldn’t you expect me to take the ship and run?”

Ellie furrowed her brow. Why, indeed? She knew the answer as soon as she posed the question. Papa trusted him. And if she really planned to go after Jashir, she needed to trust him, too. “
The Call
is yours now, Daniel, for better or worse. If you’re of a mind to go after Papa’s killer, I’d be honored if you let me sail with you.”

Daniel considered her proposition a whole lot longer than she liked, his expression pensive. Had she pegged him wrong? Would he offer some excuse about females being bad luck? She felt ten years old again, begging to be allowed to sail, to be welcomed as an equal in the closed off world of men. She prickled at the memory.

Daniel tilted his head. “That was hard for you, wasn’t it?”

She squirmed under his intense scrutiny.
Am I that obvious?
Ellie turned away, hoping to hide whatever thoughts Daniel might be able to read in her expression, and crossed to the safe. She stuck the key in the lock. “Does that mean yes or no?”

“You aren’t supposed to answer a question with a question. It’s rude, you know?” Daniel flopped into an empty chair and swung a leg over the arm, the picture of relaxation. “And yes, as I told you already, you’re welcome to come with me to Gibraltar.”

“Good. I really didn’t relish the idea of sailing after a murderous pirate on an unarmed fishing vessel.” Ellie twisted the key and heard a satisfying click. She pulled the latch and swung open the heavy door.

Daniel chuckled. “I don’t imagine you’d get too far. Fishing nets aren’t exactly intimidating.
The Siren’s Call
and her new captain are at your service, Miss Winters.”

Ellie turned her attention to the safe. The interior was stuffed to capacity with all manner of paperwork and receipts, as well as a few leather-bound books she assumed were accounting ledgers.

She reached in and withdrew an armful of mangled papers. Holding them pinned against her chest, Ellie carried her burden to the cluttered desk and dropped it on top of the heap. She released a sigh. “This is going to take all day to sort through. I wish Papa had been better at bookkeeping.”

“You don’t need my help with this, do you? I need to see to the ship repairs and order supplies if we have any hope of getting underway before the cold weather hits.”

“Nah, I’ll be fine here on my own.” Ellie settled into her father’s chair, the massive pile dwarfing her. She had to strain to see Daniel over the giant stack. “Thank you, Daniel, for everything. I know I’m not the easiest to get along with, and I want you to know I appreciate your sticking by me in all this.”

Daniel stopped in the doorway, tossed a grin over his shoulder. “Don’t thank me yet. You haven’t seen what a demanding captain I can be.”

Chapter Nineteen

Daniel closed the office door and released the tension in his shoulders. He hated deceiving Ellie, but he had a laundry list of duties to see to before he’d have time to indulge his curse by returning to seal form for a moon cycle. The first and most unpleasant of which was his meeting with General McTavish. He wasn’t looking forward to the general’s reaction to his report.

A shudder of revulsion ran through him. McTavish had a sweating problem, hadn’t seen a tub of water or a bar of soap in years, and spat when he yelled. Daniel expected there’d be yelling.
It’s going to be a long day.

He made his way toward The Bristol Inn, where the general and his entourage kept rooms. The streets teemed with life, vendors barking their wares at passersby while wagons rattled to and fro carrying all manner of stock and supplies.

Daniel deftly dodged a portly man with a keg balanced on his shoulder, only to nearly collide with a prim looking woman stalking in the other direction, a screeching, grubby-faced imp in tow.
I hate the city.

Anxious to be free of the pressing crowd, Daniel picked up the pace. His mind raced as he decided what to tell his superior and what he needed to keep to himself. Not a game one wanted to play with someone close to the king, but it couldn’t be helped. If the general knew anything about Ellie’s plans for Jashir, he would order Daniel to intervene. He’d never disobeyed a direct order, and he’d prefer not to have to start the practice this early in his career.

Daniel let out a relieved sigh when the hanging sign of The Bristol Inn finally came into view. He sidestepped a young man and ducked into the inn.

“Can I help ye?” An absurdly tall man with a scruffy moustache stood behind the lobby’s front desk. He looked down his spectacles at Daniel.

“I have an appointment with General McTavish.”

The innkeeper arched a furry black eyebrow. He took a long, slow survey of Daniel. “What business do you have with the general?”

Daniel placed his palms on the counter, leveled a dangerous glare at the insipid man. “That’s between the general and me, don’t you think?” He waited for the innkeeper’s wide-eyed nod before continuing. “Just tell him O’Roarke’s here to see him.”

The man behind the counter pointed a skinny shaking arm toward the dining room. “He’s in there havin’ breakfast.”

Lips twitching with mirth, Daniel nodded to the frightened proprietor. “Thanks.” He headed into the dining room.

“Where in the living hell have you been, boy?” General McTavish waved at Daniel from a table at the back of the room. He ignored the shocked gasps of the three women at the only other occupied table. “We expected you and Winters over a month ago.” He looked past Daniel. “Where’s the captain?”

Daniel reached the general’s table and sat down across from him. “Dead, sir.”

General McTavish’s round face puckered as if he’d eaten a sour grape.

“We were attacked outside of Gibraltar and the captain was shot and killed during the fight.” He concentrated on keeping his muscles relaxed, holding eye contact.

“Attacked by whom?” The general took a swig of coffee and slammed the cup down, sloshing it onto the table.

Daniel took a deep breath and folded his hands on the table.
Tread carefully.
“The ship was taken by corsairs, sir.”

General McTavish rubbed his chin with fat fingers. “Then how is it you’re sitting here now, young Daniel? How is it you managed to escape?”

“I didn’t escape. I was locked in the brig with the rest of the crew. If the bastards hadn’t sailed right into the path of an ally ship, we’d probably all be standing on a slave block by now.”

General McTavish shoved a forkful of hash into his mouth and washed it down with another swig from his mug. “What ally ship?”

“Harris’s outfit. He commands
The Surf Runner
. They attacked when they realized our men weren’t running the deck, took back the ship, and liberated the crew. Harris even lent me a few of his men for the trip home.”

“What did you do with the corsairs? Did you see which of them killed Winters?”

Two questions, but only one Daniel had any real desire to answer. He tried to formulate a response that would distract the general from realizing he didn’t reply to the other. “They’re locked in our brig. I thought you would want to question them personally.”

McTavish rubbed meaty fists together, his eyes lighting. “Good, good. I should enjoy the distraction. Arrange to have them transported to the city jail. I’ll question them there.”

“Aye, sir. I can take care of it as soon as we finish here,” Daniel replied.

“Pity about Winters. He was a valuable asset. He’s the first pirate we’ve had who actually proved useful.”

Daniel prickled at the use of the word
pirate
to describe what they did for king and country. He and Captain Winters did their duty, followed orders, and attacked enemies of England, then reported any intelligence they gathered to their superiors. Sure, the men they traded with often had no idea they worked for the crown, but that was all part of the job.
We’re privateers, not pirates.

The scrape of the general’s fork across his empty plate roused Daniel from his thoughts. “With Winters dead, who inherits his fleet of ships?”

Daniel’s blood ran cold.
Why does he want to know that?
“Sir?”

“It’s a simple question, lad. Who gets the captain’s boats? Are they sympathetic to the cause? Perhaps they could be persuaded to make a donation. I understand Winters owned an impressive array of seafaring vessels.”

“Captain Winters left
The Siren’s Call
to me, so we still have a ship. She’s in need of some rather major repairs, but I figure she should be seaworthy again in six weeks, give or take. We don’t need any other ship.” The idea of General McTavish meeting Ellie curdled his stomach. There was no way she’d manage an entire conversation without offending the man, potentially earning herself a date with a hangman’s noose. McTavish was insanely vain and had powerful connections, a deadly combination for someone like Ellie.

“Why didn’t you mention that before?” The general’s eyes narrowed. “You weren’t trying to keep that from me, were you?”

Daniel scoffed. “I wouldn’t dream of it, sir.”

McTavish nodded. “Good.”

The sooner Daniel got away from the foul man, the better his mood would be. “What orders do you have for me?”

“Get your ship repaired and ready to sail. I’m going to question these captives of yours and see what I can find out. I’m positive I can
persuade
them to cooperate.” He cracked his knuckles, sending a shiver down Daniel’s spine. His eyes darkened. “I’m quite looking forward to it, actually. Report back to me when you’re repaired and ready to move ahead with our plans.”

Daniel pushed to his feet. Being in the man’s presence for any length of time had a way of making him feel dirty, as if the general’s seedy nature would rub off if exposed long enough. His skin itched just thinking about it. “Aye, sir. See you in six weeks.” He turned on his heel and left the dining room.

I did it! I managed to get through the meeting without him asking about Jashir.
Now if he could just figure out a way to make sure the corsair prisoners didn’t offer up information about their boss. A much more daunting task, indeed.

***

Ellie reread the entry in the ledger for a third time. Trying to decipher her father’s cryptic notes and haphazard numerical entries made her brain ache, and she had little progress to show for the effort. She’d managed to get through about a third of the stack she’d pulled from the safe. Elbows propped on the desk, Ellie rubbed her temples in small circles, hoping to alleviate the constant throbbing.

“Now that looks like loads of fun,” Nelson said as he shut the office door.

Ellie’s head shot up, her muscles tense and eyes wide. Seeing her friend, she relaxed her limbs and offered him a lopsided grin. “Aye, tons.” She let out a sigh. “My father was a horrible bookkeeper. I can’t make sense of more than half of the entries. How am I supposed to know what he owns or who he owes?”

Nelson shrugged. “There’s another reason I prefer being a grunt. No head for figures.” He glanced around the disheveled space. “What about all this other stuff?” He indicated the shelves stuffed with books and papers lining the far wall.

Ellie shivered at the prospect of sorting through it all. “One headache at a time, please.” She beckoned him in. “Have a seat. Tell me what you’ve been up to.”

Nelson settled in the chair she indicated and folded his hands in his lap. “I’ve been doing what you asked me to do. What else?”

“What did you manage to find out? Anything of use?” Ellie forced her attention away from the numbers blurring together on the page. Anticipation crawled along her arms.

“Nothing much yet,” Nelson replied. “He hasn’t done anything so far except follow you about.”

Ellie drew back. “What do you mean?”

Nelson rolled his eyes. “Spare me the innocence, El. I’ve known you too long.”

Heat found her cheeks and she had trouble meeting Nelson’s gaze. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. He doesn’t follow me about. I mean, sure, he came to the house with me, but he stays there.”

“If you say so.” He reached out, plucked a stray paper from the desk, and made a show of reading it. “He did go to The Bristol Inn this morning. Found that a bit odd.”

Ellie leaned forward, her interest piqued. “Anyone of interest staying there?”