Race to World's End (Rowan and Ella Book 3) (21 page)

“One a week,
Ella,” Adele said emphatically. “And many of them carrying riches beyond
imagining. Why, just last month, Etta Lou Billmore told me she heard that one
of the ships on its way to New Orleans was carrying a marble
ballroom
. Can you imagine?”

“So, people row
out to the ships…?”

“They do,” Morton
said, “
if
they are certified to do
so. Only approved wreckers, as they are called, may salvage a shipwreck. It is
my job to ensure that
before
they attempt
to save the ship’s cargo—however precious it may be,” he smiled
indulgently at Adele, “they first rescue any passengers or crew.”

“And if they
don’t?”

“Well, it’s a
lucrative enterprise, Miss Pierce, as I’m sure you can imagine. Wreckers can
legally claim up to a fourth and sometimes higher of all that they pull from a
ship. If it’s proven that they did not save the ship’s crew before scavenging
the hull, I would not be inclined to renew their wrecking license.”

“Papa is very
powerful,” Adele said again, dimpling her smile at him. “Everyone on Thompson
Island owes his fortune to him.”

“Or lack thereof,
it would seem,” Morton said with a sigh.

When the men
stood to have their cigars on the veranda, Ella, with a glance at Adele, asked
Lawrence if she could have a word. She hated seeing the eagerness in his eyes
when she asked him. She realized she had never made an overture in his
direction and how starved he must be for that.

It couldn’t be
helped.

She walked out of
the dining room, leading the way to the back garden. A narrow brick walkway
wound around boxwoods and flowering native plants, leading to a small wooden
gazebo and a free-standing cookhouse at the rear of the lawn. She walked to the
gazebo. There would be enough privacy there for their conversation and because
the gazebo was open on all sides, there would also be many ways to leave in a
hurry—for Lawrence as well as herself.

She sat on the bench
in the gazebo that faced the garden. The moon was full tonight and lit up the
entire garden as if it were wired with landscaping lighting. Even though it was
past nine o’clock, the air was warm and silky on her bare arms. Lawrence sat
next to her and immediately his hand was on her thigh through her heavy gown.

“None of that,
sport,” Ella said, removing his hand. “We need to talk.”

“I can talk and
caress you at the same time.”

“Not any more you
can’t. Move the hand or lose it.”

That last part was
probably a little harsh but she knew Lawrence was nothing if not determined. If
she appeared at all hesitant she’d likely find herself on her back in the tulip
patch with him between her legs.

“What is the
matter, darling? You sound tense.”

“I’m going to
have to let you out of our engagement, Lawrence. I find I do not love you and I
cannot marry you. I know this must come as a shock to you—”

“You don’t know
what you’re saying.”

“It is highly insulting
to be told I don’t know what I’m saying.”

“You allowed me
to kiss your naked breasts not eight hours ago!”

“Okay, I can see
why you’d think I don’t know what I’m saying. Look, Lawrence, you’re a great
guy. Well, honestly, you’re a little pushy for my taste, but the point is, I
don’t want to be engaged any more and so there you are.”

“I won’t allow
you to ruin both our chances at happiness,
bella
.”

“Don’t call me
that, and you have no say in this. We’re done. It’s over.”

He stood. “Is it
because you found out I’m not really a duke? Because I can explain that.”

“You’re not a duke?”
Ella shook her head. “No, I don’t care about that shit.”

“Ella, watch your
language. I hate to scold you, dearest, but really—”

“Lawrence, shut
up. Seriously. I don’t care about titles. Bottom line…I don’t love you.”

“That’s not believable.”

“Because you’re
just so awesome?”

“No. Because of
the liberties you allowed me last night. Why would a woman permit such
intimacies unless she were in love?”

“I think the
permitting
you’re referring to was me
being half-awake and taken by surprise.”

He shook his
head. “No, you’re tired and confused. I’ll need to take you in hand, I see. No
more walks for you—”

Ella stood.
“We’re done here. I’m moving out at the end of the week. Thank you for all you
have done for me—”

“I cannot believe
you are serious.” He looked stunned. He sat on the bench staring into the
bushes.

“I know. And I
can’t believe it took me so long. Good night, Lawrence. And…good luck.” Ella
turned and walked back to the house, grateful she didn’t have to use the steak
knife she’d slipped up her sleeve during dinner.

20

Sully sat
patiently in the law office of the Honorable Robert T. Morton, Federal judicial
representative of Monroe County and the singular source for any and all
wrecking licenses. Sully knew the wrecking business of Key West was not only
about to explode to the benefit of any wise entrepreneur who was in the right
spot at the right time—and thanks to his interest in history, he
was
—but also that it was about to
be seriously regulated. With piracy in the process of being eradicated by
Porter and his blasted
Mosquito Fleet,
the
new avenue to wealth and prosperity was the scavenging business.

But to get a
piece of
that
juicy pie, he needed a
wrecking license. And that could only be issued by the man whose office he now
sat in.

Although he was sure
word had spread that a well-known pirate ship was moored in the harbor, anyone
would be hard pressed to connect it to
him
.
He had made every effort to look the part of a well-respected Florida
businessman this morning. Gone were the knee-high boots and the loden trousers,
as well as the long jacket and the wide hat festooned with parrot feathers that
kept the sun from his face. Today, he wore pinstriped breeches and a morning
coat over a plain white shirt.

A young man,
proceeded by a prominent Adam’s apple, opened an interior door and hurried to
stand in front of Sully. “His Honor will see you now,” he said breathlessly as
if he’d vaulted in through the window and not just emerged from an inside
office.

Sully nodded at
the nervous young man, collected his hat and walking stick and followed him
into the Judge’s private chambers.

Robert Morton was
a large man. His belly strained against the vest that seemed cinched tightly to
serve as a girdle. Sully always thought it strange when powerful men cared
about how they appeared to others.

 
“Mr. Sullivan,” Morton said, declining to
rise from his chair behind the desk, or to offer his hand. The aide scurried
out and shut the door behind him without asking if Sully would like anything.

Sully glanced
around the large office. The windows were louvered to allow a breeze in,
although without a facing window there was no hope of a crosswind. It was late
summer and nowhere hotter on Earth.

“Your Honor,”
Sully said seating himself in front of the desk.

“What can I help
you with, sir?”

Sully affected to
look around the judge’s office. Diplomas and plaques lined the wall behind
Morton’s head. On the desk was a handcrafted model of a large man-of-war with
several decks of miniature cannons. Sully found himself wondering if the man
had ever even been on a ship larger than the ferry that must have brought him
to Key West.

“Well, Judge, I
am new to these waters and looking to expand my business.”

“Which is?”

“I suppose you
might say I’m in the reclamation business.”

“Wrecking.”

“Well, now that
you mention it, I’ve had some experience with that around the Bahamas and off
the Barbary Coast and am hoping to extend my range to the straits of Florida.”

“I’m afraid that
won’t be possible, sir.”

“Oh? And why is
that?”

“As you may have
heard, we’ve had considerable trouble of late with salvagers misrepresenting
the true amount of goods they saved from shipwrecks. We are in the process of
regulating the industry.”

“Very wise, I
should think.”

“As a result of
that regulation, we can only allow wreckers with a certificate—issued
from the Federal District Court—to salvage ships off the Reef of the
Martyrs.”

“Again, I can
only see the wisdom in that. I don’t see how that would adversely affect my
intention to begin salvaging operations in the Gulf.”

“To be blunt,
sir, I am issuing only a very few wrecking certificates. And those will go to
men I know and trust to be responsible and honest.”

“I come with
references, of course.”

“Which cannot
compete with what I know of men by my own experience. I’m sorry, Mr. Sullivan.
Perhaps in the years to come, after I have come to know you better, my answer
will be different.”

Sully threw back
his head and laughed. He really found the old fool amusing. What a charmed,
perfect life he must lead! As judge of this province he would have no cause to
fear anyone. He shook his head. How he enjoyed being the one to provide the one
life lesson that would change all that.

“You have a
daughter, I believe, your Honor?”

That stopped the old goat.
He looked at Sully, his eyes blinking in disbelief.

“You…you are you
threatening me?”

“I’m not sure any
court of law would consider a question about your family a threat, sir. She
lives with you on Whitehead Street, does she not?”

Sully watched the
man grab the edge of his desk, his face growing slowly purple as he puffed out
his cheeks.

It’s a new experience when someone hits you below the belt when
you’re not used to it,
Sully thought wryly.

“I’ll have
you…I’ll…”

“Well, I don’t
think you’ll have the sweet young thing out front throw me out, with all due
respect, Judge. So you might want to hear what I have to say. Probably save you
from having a stroke.”

Sully watched the
man visibly take himself in hand. He stuck out his chest as if to appear even
larger, and narrowed his eyes. “Say your piece,” he growled.

Sully stood. “I
have a simple demonstration that I believe should emphatically push me up the
list of those men you know well.”

“What kind of
demonstration?”

“Come to the western
side of Garden Cay on Dry Tortugas tomorrow afternoon and see for yourself.
Broad daylight. Bring a friend if you like. Bring two. I don’t care, as I have
nothing to hide. On the contrary, I want to show you something that I have
every belief will change your mind about me.”

“I believe you
are a brigand, sir.”

“Ah, well. Perhaps
it won’t change your mind then.”

“And I’ll not go
five steps with you until I know the nature of this so-called demonstration.”

Sully hesitated
then turned and slammed his fist onto the fragile model of the man-of-war. Splinters
shot out in all directions and made the judge jump.

“I have a weapon
that has come into my possession,” Sully said, his voice gravelly and low, his
face leaning close to Morton’s, “that in the wrong hands is sufficient to
destroy every man, woman and child in
Cayo
Hueso
. It is my very great hope that I will be able to hand this weapon
over to you tomorrow afternoon in the Dry Tortugas.”

“In exchange for
a wrecking license.”

Sully smiled and
stood back up. “Just to be safe, why don’t you bring it when you come?”

“You’re a
bastard.”

“And you sir, are
the father of a very pretty young lady.” Sully reached down and grabbed his
balls as he spoke. Shock blanched Morton’s face at the gesture. Sully turned
and let himself out of the office.

***

Lawrence sat at
the breakfast table across from Adele. He had spent a miserable night
alternatingly tapping on his dear girl’s bedroom door—to hisses he
wouldn’t attribute to a mad cat—and punching his pillow in frustration in
his own bedroom.

Broken our engagement? It can’t be. It just can’t be.

Surely, Ella
couldn’t mean it? She loved him. He knew she did!

“Are you alright,
Lawrence?”

He looked up to
see the worried expression on Adele’s face, a piece of buttered toast poised
halfway to her mouth.

“Yes, my dear,”
he said, stiffly, forcing a smile. “I’m fine. And yourself?”

“You look so
unhappy. I hope that whatever it is, it isn’t something that I’ve done or one
of the servants—”

“Oh, no, of
course not, Adele. Forgive me. I’m being self-indulgent.”

“Can you not
confide in me?” She popped the toast in her mouth but her eyes looked at him
with concern.

“Well, you’ll
know soon enough, I suppose,” he said. “Ella has broken our engagement.”

Adele began to
choke on the mouthful of toast and Lawrence watched her fumble for her cup of
tea before she got control of herself.

“Really?” she
said, hoarsely. “She broke it last night? When you went to the garden?”

“Yes, exactly.
And I’m afraid I’m a little…”

“Of course you
are. Dear Lawrence, I am so sorry. Did she give a reason?”

“A reason? Not
that I can remember.”

“Well, that is
just so strange. To break an engagement without a reason.”

“Yes, it is, isn’t
it? She’s never really been right since she fell and lost her memory.”

“My goodness,
what in the world does she plan to do with herself? A woman alone, without
family or fiancé? And, you’ll excuse me for saying it but, she is not young.”

“No, quite. I do
not know what she plans on doing. I fear she may be mistaken in the belief that
she can…take care of herself.”

“Horrors.” Adele
got up and moved to the chair next to him. She picked up his hand from the
table. “Perhaps I can help?”

“My dearest
child,” Lawrence said, with a sigh. “I cannot see how.”

“Well, I have a
little idea. I think it might just do the trick. Do you trust me, Lawrence? Can
you allow me to take care of this?”

It was all
Lawrence could do not to throw his arms around the precious girl and hug her.
Could she really remedy this? Would she speak to Ella? Would the engagement be
back on soon?

“Thank you, Adele,”
he said. “From the bottom of my heart, if there is anything you can do, thank
you.” He turned away from Adele, his spirits much improved, and picked up his
fork. Suddenly, the fried eggs and kippers looked extremely tempting.

***

Daisy hated to
meet Georgie here in this place. It was filthy and the men looked at her like
she was a floozy. But Georgie was right, too. If not here, where? He could
hardly come to the judge’s house, and Georgie lived with six other men in a
shack on Eaton street.

The pub was noisy
on the inside and Daisy wouldn’t have dared to step foot in it. She sat on a
long, rough wooden bench outside, a chipped mug of grog in her hands. She
hadn’t heard from Georgie in two weeks and hated herself for how happy she was
when he sent the message to her earlier that morning to meet him here. Those
had been two hard weeks. Her courses had stopped long enough to throw the fear
of God and all his minions into her. They started back up, though, saints be
praised.

And then Georgie
came back to her.

“Alright, luv?”
Georgie sat next to her. A long, lanky boy with greasy yellow hair and spotty
skin. He’d contracted and survived the yellow fever the year before, and in
many ways had never gotten his full health back. It didn’t matter. He was a
miracle to her just the same.

“Yes,” she said.
“Just glad to see you again. You’re looking well.” That wasn’t true at all. He
looked like he hadn’t eaten in two weeks, or slept. She noticed his eyes kept
darting to the front of the pub as if he were watching for someone. He didn’t
act as if he’d been longing to see her again as he’d said in the note.

“And yourself,”
he said without looking at her.

“Is everything
all right, Georgie?”

He finally looked
at her for longer than a few seconds and she could see the hunted look in his
eyes. She was surprised she hadn’t been able to smell it. He was in trouble.

“Remember that brig
I told you about last time I saw you?”

“The one you
helped scavenge? Yes, I remember.” She remembered he’d said it would be the
making of him and then she hadn’t heard from him for two weeks. “You were going
to get a big share of the pot?”

“The bastards
cheated me,” Georgie said, a nasal whine creeping into his voice. “I got less
than I’d make sweeping up the Rose and Gill! And you remember me telling you I
broke a rib on that wreckage?”

“Yes, I do. Is it
better now?”

Georgie waved
away her question. “Me sis came down with the fever right around the time I
last saw you—”

“Oh, I’m so
sorry.”

“And I had to get
the medicine to make her well. I
had
to.”

Daisy had a bad
feeling start in the pit of her stomach. “Of course, you did,” she said softly.

“I borrowed money
on account from some fellows.” He was back to watching the front of the pub
again. Daisy started watching, too. “They said, I don’t pay ‘im back by week’s
end, they’ll kill me, Daisy.”