“I have proof.”
Captain Paderwatch intervened, putting a hand between them. “Show us this proof then, Nathaniel. You’ll still stand to the charge of going where you don’t belong though. You must know that.”
Nat’s shoulders curled, but he didn’t let the statement discourage him. They needed to know he hadn’t lied.
“See?” He raised the lamp high. “The flour will show signs of the rats that must have eaten Mister Garth’s portion just as they ate mine. I left his by the steps as he told me to. I would never take another man’s food, no matter how often he’s tried to get me in trouble.”
Silence fell where Nat expected agreement, the engine room growing uncomfortable.
He’d been staring at the captain and first mate. Now he turned to see the evidence.
A single boot mark showed on one side of the flour.
Beyond that, the only flaws showed dirt from the sweeping and a few clumps of dough.
Nat’s hand lowered of its own accord, the flour he’d been counting on acquitting him no longer lit as the lamp fell to his side. “But the plate…”
Mister Garth let loose a harsh laugh. “He’d try anything to get out of his just punishment. This is the type of boy the Company gives us now.”
Nat’s fingers curled into a fist as his dislike of the engineer turned to hatred. He spun to confront the man, everything coming clear in that moment. “You did it. That boot print was from you wiping out the animal marks. You didn’t want to back down on your accusation, and you’re willing to cheat so you don’t have to.”
The engineer raised both hands as though to fend off a blow. “Hold on there, boy. I don’t like your accusations.”
“Now you know what it feels like, only you’re guilty, and I was not.”
Mister Trupt’s hands came down on Nat’s shoulders, holding him back though he hadn’t planned to attack the man physically. He didn’t need to. The others had seen the bootprint. They had to believe him.
Mister Garth’s lips curled into a sneer. “And just how was I to destroy your fancy evidence as you call it? I didn’t know what you were about until now, or rather what you’d like us to think you were doing here. If your hunger hadn’t gotten the better of you, boy, you might just have fooled the first mate and captain into believing your story, but I’ve got your measure. Even if there had been rat droppings all around that plate, it doesn’t explain the missing parts you took as payback for some slight you imagined. The crew might weigh the theft of food higher than any other, but the captain here knows what those gears cost. This has gone far beyond a simple prank. You get them from wherever you stashed them now, and he might go light on your sentence. But pay you will, and well.”
“I didn’t!” Nat started to struggle in earnest as he realized the trap the engineer had set. He’d walked right into it, having admitted to sneaking down here. “You can search my hammock and every place I’ve been. I didn’t take anything. We wouldn’t have half those parts if I hadn’t gone with you to get them. I know the importance of them. I never would have taken any.”
Something in the engineer’s face made Nat realize he’d erred in mentioning the trip to the shipyard. Though successful beyond Mister Garth’s hopes, the way the workers had treated Nat must still have grated. But the mistake had been made, and the best he could do now was to fall silent.
“So…” The engineer drew out the word as though savoring it. “You refuse to return the parts?”
Nat shook his head. “I can’t return what I never took in the first place.”
Mister Garth shrugged. “You heard him, gentlemen. The only other person who has been in this room is myself. I certainly wouldn’t remove parts that could prove critical. He thinks to convince you of his innocence just as he denies taking my meal, but it’s only pretty words. He plays on your good natures. He’s just as I’ve always said. A troublesome boy. Why else would his fancy family have cast him out to sea on the weakest of the Company ships? You can tell from his threads they have enough to buy him a better position.”
The first mate shifted his hold to Nat’s upper arm and muscled them both past the gloating engineer.
As soon as they reached sunlight, Nat tried again. “You can’t believe I would, Mister Trupt. I asked for this position. He’s right that my parents could have given me different, but I wanted to go to sea. My mother trusts the captain to look after me. That’s the truth, I sw—”
Nat choked off his words, remembering Mister Trupt’s earlier caution.
The first mate pulled Nat round so he could look him in the face. “I thought I knew you, boy. You work hard, you don’t complain, and you do as you’re told. But we all know you’ve a grudge against Mister Garth. Doesn’t matter whether he deserves it or no. This is serious, Mister Bowden. Not some boyish prank, but interference with the workings of the ship. If he can’t get that engine running smoothly, all our lives might be at risk, not just yours. Give up your hiding spot, and the captain and I will do what we can for you.”
As much as he wanted to confess, to reveal where he’d hidden the parts, Nat could only stare at his hands. He hadn’t taken them, despite how it appeared. He had no idea what had happened to the parts. The thought that Mister Garth had hidden them crossed his mind, but while the engineer might be spiteful enough to run a boot through rat prints, what Nat faced now could mean hanging. Not even Mister Garth could be that cruel.
“So that’s the way of it, lad? I can’t say I don’t understand the urge, but you’re better than this. It’s gone on long enough. Maybe a day or two in the gaol will make you wise. The longer you wait, the harder it’ll be for you.”
Nat trembled at the thought of the storeroom down in the bilge that became a jail when needed. The stench itself was enough to make a sailor regret whatever actions forced him down there, and nothing but stale bread and water were given prisoners.
“Please. I’ll help search. He must have misplaced them. I can find them.” He braced his foot on the doorframe the first mate had dragged him to, desperate not to enter the space.
Mister Trupt shook his head and pulled hard so Nat stumbled down the short but steep steps. “You can spare yourself this, lad. It’s far too late to pretend a search. Just tell us where the parts are hidden, and you’ll take your punishment in stripes instead of this and the rope that waits you now. If not for yourself, think on your mother. You’re the youngest, are you not? She’s sure to dote on you. Bad enough to know her son a thief. Let her not bear the weight of your death.”
Nat clutched the first mate’s arm, holding him where before he’d been the one held. “I swear, I do. I mean it this time more than ever before. I did not take them. I did not touch any of the parts. Mister Garth wouldn’t let me. Not after what happened at the shipyard. He hates me, the man does. I didn’t think he’d go this far, but I did not take anything.”
The first mate pried Nat’s fingers loose and gave him a firm, but gentle, shove.
Before Nat could rush forward, the door swung shut and the lock closed with a decisive thunk.
Nat pressed his ear to the thick wood, but it deadened any sound. He did not know when the first mate walked away, only that the man did not change his mind and open the door to let him free.
He sank to the floor, the stench deeper down against the heavily stained wood. He would hang for this. Unless the missing parts showed up on their own by some miracle, no hope remained for him.
28
Sam stared at the patch of sunlight beaming down from the still-open hatch, half expecting the sailor to return with the boy and declare it all a mistake. He had been trying to trap her, or rather the rats he thought her to be, but he’d saved her from eating those same creatures.
Her fingers brushed the gears she’d taken, never thinking about the cost until too late. They’d just found their way into her pockets and stayed, the effort to give them back, to give up the comfort they offered, too great.
“Will these losses prev
ent you from fixing the engine?”
Sam froze as the well-dressed captain spoke again. She’d been so caught up in her thoughts that she’d forgotten not all of the gathering had left. The bright light made the shadows deeper, and with the lamp on the ground, they’d faded into the darkness.
“I was doing the final bits when you called out for sail,” the engineer grumbled, his annoyance clear. “Any part I needed was already in place.”
There was a pause, then, “And just how is it you know some parts are missing?”
“There was more when the carry boy put them here. I know it, and I’m not wrong either.”
The captain coughed into his hand as though smothering a curse or calling for patience. “I expect you to take an exact inventory, Mister Garth. You’ve made some serious accusations. I won’t have them acted upon without a full accounting of what is not here. Do you understand me?”
“Sure, sure, I’ll get it done. I thought checking the repairs would be more important, but you’re the captain.”
The tension radiating from the captain’s form was visible even in the shadows. “You’re telling me you’ve yet to fire it up when it was done all this time?”
Footsteps moved away from both the opening and her hiding spot, heading deeper into the engine room.
The engineer grunted as he followed the captain. “Didn’t want to chance tearing the sails,” he said after a pause.
Sam could hear the disgust in the captain’s voice when he spoke. “Well, get on with it then. The wind’s been calm these past two bells. You’re saying we could have been making way instead of busying the crew with shore tasks? If that smudge had turned out to be a pirate instead of an uncharted island, your patience could have cost us everything.” He emphasized patience as though it were fouler than anything Henry’s farmhands ever used.
Whatever the engineer replied was lost in the hiss of the boiler fire kicked into life.
Sam leaned forward, her guilt forgotten as the repairs she’d made prepared for their first-ever run. Though she’d wanted to ignite the engine as soon as she’d finished, had the engineer done the same when he had, the damage might have been more than she could fix, and certainly not without drawing notice.
Instead, gear teeth lined up perfectly as steam worked its way through the piping and drove the pistons into motion. Her nerves tingled with the aether gathering in the air as the engine grew one step stronger, better, closer to the perfection that would earn it a soul.
“Would you listen to that?”
The sound of a deep male voice broke Sam from her trance, and it took her a moment to recognize the engineer in what had been such a reverent tone.
This time the captain grunted a response.
“Goes to show you what can be done with decent parts,” the engineer added, as though unsatisfied by the captain’s lack of praise.
“You’d do well to remember how you came by such high-quality pieces,” the captain growled, “being as you’re so quick to condemn Mister Bowden.”
The pipe Sam leaned against clanged as though someone had jerked into it.
“What is your meaning?”
All reverence had left the engineer’s voice, and it had risen a pitch or two.
Sam crept forward in an effort to see both men, but the same pipes that protected her from their sight kept them hidden.
“Your behavior at the shipyard did not pass without notice, Mister Garth.” The captain put heavy emphasis on the title. “I got the full story from a sailor I sent to see about replacing one of the torn sails. While I cannot condone his behavior, I can certainly understand what drove Mister Bowden to it. If you were half the engineer as you are a fool, you wouldn’t have to worry about being stuck on a vessel with so little claim to prominence. Or perhaps it’s your very foolishness that got you condemned to plague me. The boy will suffer for his response to your arrogance, and suffer harshly, but don’t think I’ll forget how all this came about.”
The engineer wisely kept his tongue between his teeth long enough for the captain to stamp out of the engine room and slam the hatch down after him until only the faint light of the lamp remained.
Sam ignored the mutters coming from the far side of the room as the engineer pretended to check on repairs he’d been unable to make in the first place. Instead, the captain’s words, meant to condemn the engineer, bit deep. She hadn’t intended to cause trouble this time any more than the others. She just hadn’t thought of what her actions would mean, or dismissed any consequence because the engine didn’t need these gears. For the boy to suffer because of her broke everything Lily had ever taught her. Sam couldn’t let it happen again.
Despite the risks with the engine room still occupied, she couldn’t wait until the engineer left. He’d promised an inventory as soon as he finished with the engine. Once he counted and found the pieces gone, he’d have his proof, though against the wrong person. And how could the boy sailor ever do anything about the charge. He couldn’t return what he hadn’t taken.
She’d crossed this same space because of an empty belly, though that time she had reason to expect the engineer to stay busy. Now, he had nothing to do beyond delay the inventory.
Sam gathered the gears into her skirt to muffle the sound because she’d taken too many to fit in her pockets. She needed to get going before she ran out of time or nerve.
Urged on by the hiss and hum of the engine itself, she ducked between and under pipes, her movements awkward with her bundle of cloth and metal, until she crouched within reach of the pile where she’d found the parts in the first place.
She took a close look at how the bundles had been left and judged where she could tuck the pieces under a pipe. They should be found when doing inventory but might have been overlooked before because they’d slipped out of the bundle. At least they wouldn’t be able to say the boy returned them, not the way they took him off under guard.
29
When the hatch door lifted, Sam still had a hand out with the last gear, her attention focused on the faint clunks and pings from where the engineer continued to assess her repairs.
Fear blinded her as much as the light.
If whoever opened the hatch chanced to glance down at that moment, she’d be fully visible, stretched as she was over a pipe to place the gear just so.
It fell from her numb fingers, the dull thud of metal against wood masked only because the newcomer now thumped down the first few steps to pause with the hatch half open.
She jerked back and scrambled over the next set of pipes so quickly her elbow struck one with a sharp clang.
“None of that now, you stupid old beast,” the engineer cried from the back of the room.
Sam didn’t know whether to be relieved he mistook her clumsiness for a problem with the engine or to sigh because he cursed the beautiful mechanism that was this ship’s engine. She had time for neither, though, as she crouched down to learn why yet another had come to intrude on a space she’d thought little used.
“Better watch where you be throwing those insults.”
Silence took the place of cursing as the engineer recognized he no longer commanded the space alone. Not that he ever had, but Sam wasn’t about to tell him so.
“Phil? What are you doing down here pestering me?” The engineer appeared, rubbing his hands on a rag as though he’d actually been working. Sam hoped he did so for appearances alone and had not disturbed any of her changes, though he’d be unlikely to put his hands into the path of an active engine.
“Cap’n sent me to help you with an in-van-tory.” He pronounced the unfamiliar word as though each syllable held a separate meaning.
The engineer glowered at this new sailor. “I’m fully capable of counting on my own.”
The sailor shrugged. “Guess he thought you too busy.”
“Well, you can tell him I have things well in hand.”
Phil shook his head from side to side as he stepped further into the engine room and lowered t
he hatch to reveal he’d brought a second lamp. “I know orders when I hears them. I’m to help you, if you need me or not.”
The engineer’s face turned a dark enough shade that Sam could see the difference even in the dim lighting, but he offered no further protest except to bark, “Then get to gathering the pieces over there. I need to collect my manifest.”
Raising his other hand to reveal a torn piece of sailcloth, Phil said, “No need. The captain sent me with what the shipyard charged for. Guess he didn’t know you had one of your own.”
From her vantage point, Sam saw the scowl Phil could not, but she did not know the cause. Part of her began to wonder if the engineer had, in fact, noticed the few parts she’d taken, or if he’d laid false charges after all.
“It’s a waste of my time, and of yours as well,” the engineer told Phil. “You’ll find I’m missing a handful of gears and a couple springs. I’m not fool enough to forget what I brought back.”
Sam bit her lip to stop a cry as he named just what she’d returned. It seemed he honestly believed the boy responsible for her actions. Still, she didn’t know what he would do when crossed and suspected she would not like to be on the receiving end of that event.
“I only know what the Cap’n said, and that’s what I’m set to do.”
The engineer let out a harrumph and snatched the scrap from the sailor’s hand. “Then let’s get this over with. It’s bad enough he takes what doesn’t belong to him, but now he costs me time as well. It’s just lucky my repairs are already complete.”
He paused, tipping his head toward the running engine, then knelt to investigate the pile so near to Sam she ducked down in fear he’d see her, a danger that grew when the sailor joined him.
The pool of light from their combined lamps reached almost to her toes. She could not move back with them so close, either. The engineer might have dismissed the first time she bumped a pipe, but he’d been a lot farther then.
“And that accounts for this section. Only one left to check. You’ll see, and so will the captain. That boy has duped the lot of you with his helpful ways. Who knows what other trouble he’s been getting into.”
Secrets (The Steamship Chronicles Book 1) Page 13