Ghost Messages (2 page)

“
Slainte!
Good health!” Her da took a long gulp of his drink before going on enthusiastically. “This transatlantic cable is a grand adventure, to be sure, and I’ve heard miraculous things about the ship.”

“Aye, that be right,” Dalton agreed, taking a small sip. “The world is filled with many seafaring marvels, but the
Great Eastern
remains the most fantastic of all. Why, she’s five times bigger than any ship afloat!”

“‘The Wonder of the Seas,’ they call her.” Ailish’s father took another deep draught of his drink.

Dalton nodded. “And she carries fifteen thousand tons of coal, enough to sail near round the world without refueling. The
Great Eastern
is the exact right vessel for laying this cable.”

Listening to this, Ailish rolled her eyes. You’d think the two of them had single-handedly built the blasted boat, they sounded so full of themselves.

Although the visitor’s glass was still half full, her father refilled it and his own, spilling a little onto the faded tablecloth in his haste. “Coal, you say, but I heard she was a sailing ship?”

Dalton nodded, swirling the whiskey in the glass. “She has six masts and enough canvas to cover a small village, but she also has a screw propeller and giant paddlewheels on either side which is why nothing stops her.”

Ailish went back to her book while the two men continued talking and drinking. The heat from the stove made her drowsy, and she’d almost dozed off when the sound of her name roused her.

“Ach, Ails, you’ve got this place as hot as Hades.” Her father wiped his forehead with a handkerchief, then removed his colourful orange striped vest, the one her ma had sewn for his birthday, and carefully draped it over the back of his chair. “Ailish is the apple of me eye, Rufus. She has the second sight, you know. Famous, she is.”

He beamed with pride, but Ailish was tired and thoughts of her ungrateful customers leapt to her lips. “For all the good it’s done us. We’re poor as church mice.”

“Now, now my girl, you’ve helped many souls and that’s no lie.” Her father chided gently, his speech slightly slurred.

Ailish’s temper flared with the peat. “I work hard to help these folks but to them it’s all sham, a penny’s entertainment, and we end up spending our lives drudging around in this infernal caravan and eating champ!” The thought of another meal of boiled potatoes made her stomach gurgle unpleasantly.

“I know it’s been hard since your ma died, Ails.” When he mentioned her mother, her da found something interesting to look at in the bottom of his glass, avoiding Ailish’s gaze, and she felt guilty. She knew how much her mother’s death had pained him too. “But your ma would be proud if she knew you were keeping up the family tradition with your fey gift. Besides, me darlin’, we won’t be
doin’ this for long. I’m that close to makin’ our dream come true.” He winked at her before turning to their visitor.

“We’ll be living with my brother Seamus in Heart’s Content, Newfoundland once this cable’s laid. He’s what you call a telegrapher, and a fine one if his letters are to be believed.”

Ailish cleared her throat loudly, interrupting her da before he divulged any more private details to this stranger. “I’m sure Mr. Dalton doesn’t need to hear our family plans.”

But he charged on, oblivious to her hint. “Yes, sir, sixteen hundred miles across the Atlantic, that’s where the Canadian end of this miraculous cable will surface, and that’s where we’ll be if everything works out the way I’ve planned. We’ll be buying a fine fishing boat and a grand house to live in. Ah, ’twill be amazing, it will.”

Her patience at an end and exhausted from her long day, Ailish couldn’t listen to that old story once more or she’d scream. “Da, I’m too tired for any of your fairy tales and we shouldn’t be discussing this in public.” She threw a silencing glare at her bleary-eyed father, but he resolutely shook his head.

“It’s not blarney, Ails. It will happen. Why do you think I’ve been scouring the taverns from here to Belfast? Not for the drink, to be sure. I’ve not a shilling for that. I’ve been looking for a buyer for a very special trinket. Soon, we’ll be having it all, lass, and I’ll prove it to you.”

The news her father hadn’t been squandering their money on whiskey came as a surprise and a relief to Ailish. But where, then, had their savings gone?

Tilting slightly, her da stood, then lurched to the potato basket and rummaged in it. She wondered what he was up to as he straightened unsteadily and held out a small bundle of dusty sackcloth. “This is going to make our dream come true.”

Carefully, he unwrapped the mystery parcel and Ailish gasped as the soft lantern light glinted off a tiny statue of a golden horse. Diamond eyes dazzled and the intricately braided silver bridle was anchored with small fiery rubies. She gazed at the figurine.

“Is it real?” she breathed, spellbound.

“Right out of the palace at St. Petersburg. I bought this off of a Russian soldier boy who was fleeing the czar and needed money, any money. It cost me more than I wanted to part with – two pounds, which was all our hard earned savings – but I’ve been around a wee while and could see the value in this golden filly.” He chuckled. “Your Uncle Peter laughed when I showed him the bill of sale. He said it was worth a small fortune and would replace our savings a hundred times over. We’d be set for life. And he told me we’d have no trouble selling it, the thing’s that fine. Once we’re done here, we’re going to Dublin. Rufus says he’ll introduce me to a merchant who’ll buy this, and then it’s off to Newfoundland for us.”

Boots scraped on the rough wooden floor and both Ailish and her father turned to the brooding stranger who listened so quietly.

She swallowed. There was something about this man that made her afraid and she knew her da should never even have told him about this treasure, much less brought it out in front of him.

Dalton’s eyes narrowed into slits that reminded Ailish of a lizard. She shuddered, feeling as if someone was shovelling dirt onto her grave. The look on her father’s face told Ailish he, too, was having second thoughts about the man he’d chosen to help him sell his fabulous statue. Flustered, he hastily re-wrapped the tiny gilt horse in the sacking and stuffed it back into the basket.

“Ach, but that’s business that can wait for tomorrow.” He tossed the words off lightly, as though what he’d shown her was nothing at all. “Now, off to bed with ye and no more foolish talk.”

Ailish nodded mutely and retreated to her cramped sleeping area, closing the door. Her head was filled with questions. Why hadn’t her da told her about this sooner? She wouldn’t have nagged him so much about his frequent trips to every village watering hole if she’d known the why of it.

As she lay listening to the murmur of voices, she couldn’t stop wondering if the statue had been genuine. Or was it just sparkle and shine, with no substance? It seemed too amazing to be true, but if it was real… Oh, if it was real, then this would indeed be the end of the leprechaun’s rainbow for them, and just a short hop to Newfoundland!

– • – • –2 S

Glass shards rained from the sky and struck the
roof of the caravan in a crystal storm. Other sounds drifted
into Ailish’s dream – scuffling, bumping and thumping. Groggily, she dragged herself out of a leaden sleep.

The noises continued, but more loudly now and she could hear cursing. Ailish was fully awake in an instant. Throwing back the covers, she leapt out of her warm bed and yanked open the sleeping room door.

The sight that met her eyes made her breath come in small, feathery gasps. Her father lay on the floor, a halo of crimson blood around his head. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the sticky red stain as it soaked into the worn wooden planks.

The potato basket lay tipped on its side, the contents scattered. Rufus Dalton was nowhere to be seen.

“Da!” Ailish cried. She rushed to her father’s side, terrified of what she would find.

His skin was ghostly white as blood continued to seep from the jagged gash on his head. Tears pooled in Ailish’s eyes and her mother’s dead face swam in those tears – the same still, pale look that her father had now.

“You can’t die, da. You can’t!” She had to do something, but what? Then she remembered Mrs. Murphy in the wagon next to theirs. The widow woman was a midwife and knew some doctoring.

Her father groaned as his eyes fluttered, then opened. Weakly, he held up the scrap of sackcloth. “The blagger took the golden horse…” he rasped. “Ails, he took our future.”

Rage boiled up like liquid fire; then a wave of guilt hit Ailish, extinguishing the flames. She’d known Rufus Dalton was evil. She should have done something more, made her father listen. She, of all people, should have heeded her feelings, but no, she’d ignored the warning and now her dear, sweet father had paid the price.

She heard the pain in his voice and wondered if it was because of the blow on his head or the loss of the wonderful statue. Either way, it was up to her to fix the problem. She owed him that.

“Don’t you worry about your treasure, Da. I’ll get it back.”

And as Ailish ran for help, she vowed she would.

2

Secret Message

…. --- .-- -- ..- -.-. …. -- --- -. . -.-- -.. .. -.. .--. .- -.. -.. -.-- …. .- …- .

Ailish wasn’t sure she was doing the right thing
leaving her injured father with Mrs. Murphy, but if she were going to find Dalton, she had to act fast. Pulling her paisley shawl over her head to ward off the chill, she ran through the pre-dawn darkness to the dock. She had to stop the low dog before he made it back to his ship.

Rounding a tall stack of crates, she saw an early morning dockworker busily writing on a piece of paper. “Excuse me, sir,” she asked, her breathing laboured from her run. “Have ye seen a bloke called Rufus Dalton? My da sent me to give him a message.”

“You’re too late, miss.” He nodded in the direction of the harbour.

Ailish looked to the sea and there, silhouetted by the thin strip of pink dawn light, a small ship steamed out of the bay. She knew it would be the ferry to the huge cable-laying ship, docked far out in the bay because of its size.

“Oh no, no,
no!
” she wailed, watching as her quarry slipped like quicksilver from her grasp. “He can’t get away this easily!”

Concern at her plea was plain on the sailor’s face as he tried to reassure her. “Come now, don’t fret, lass. I work on the
Great Eastern
and will be taking these last crates out to her before we sail. Tell me your message and I’ll give it to Dalton when I see him.” His rich Irish brogue was warm and friendly.

Ailish shook her head dejectedly. “Don’t trouble yourself, sir. You were right, it’s too late.” She turned and slowly walked away.

She’d failed. It was her fault her father had been hurt and now she had to tell him she’d let their hope for the future sail away.

Climbing atop one of the wooden crates, Ailish sat and tried to think of what to do next. She had to get that statue back, but how? As she wiggled trying to get more comfortable, the rough wood snagged her pantalets tearing a small hole in the undergarment. She pulled her dress further down to hide the tiny embarrassment and as she did so, the lid wobbled. The crate must not be nailed shut.

Jumping off, she pushed on the heavy cover and managed to move it enough to look inside. The crate held bits and bobs of machinery, but there was enough room for a thin girl to hide within. She smiled as a crazy idea flashed into her mind.

She’d follow Dalton to the ship; then while they were unloading the cargo, she’d find the statue, steal it back, and return to shore with the ferry before anyone was the wiser.

Checking to make sure the dockworker was busy, Ailish clambered into the large box, sliding the lid back into place behind her. A crack in her wooden canopy let a tiny sliver of early morning light into the crowded compartment and the smell of the fresh salt air had a tang to it. If this crate was going to the
Great Eastern
, then so was she.

Yawning, she settled in to wait.

– - • – –

Ailish awoke with a start. Rubbing her eyes, she
uncurled and tried to stretch her cramped muscles.

The air smelled differently now. She caught a whiff of oil and the bite of metal. She must already be aboard the ship, which meant it was time to find Rufus Dalton and the treasure. Struggling to her knees, Ailish reached over her head and pushed on the lid.

It wouldn’t move.

She pushed again, but still the stubborn wood refused to budge.

Fear prickled her scalp as she looked up. No splinter of light showed through the rough-hewn boards. Furtively searching, she found an empty knothole in the side of the crate. Pressing her eye to the opening, Ailish peered out.

She was indeed in the
Great Eastern
’s cavernous hold surrounded by stacks of boxes in all sizes and shapes. But if there was no light coming through the lid, that could mean only one thing – another crate was piled on top of hers.

She was trapped!

Should she call out? Who would hear? And if they did rescue her, she knew they’d send her back to shore before she had a chance to find what she’d come for. The thought of Dalton getting away made her hold her tongue. She’d wait a while at least, and hope someone came to move the top crate and free her from this wooden prison.