by Cate Masters
Liam busied himself, repeating the motions he’d already performed. “I’ll take a turn first. Ye can’t have all the fun all the time.”
Homer nodded. “Ready?”
“Irishmen are born ready.” Liam followed him to the side, and they lowered their lines. Homer jumped in and landed clear of the hooks.
Liam glanced back at Sam. They held their gazes for a moment, then Liam plunged into the dark water.
Sam strode to the side and watched his friend’s shadow dissipate beneath the waves.
Jahner laughed. “I hope he doesn’t try to drink it all while he’s down there.”
“Eh, Sam?” A hand slapped his back. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” He couldn’t put his finger on it. Couldn’t put the strange feeling into words. “Keep a good eye on the line.” He began counting.
Laughter and talk mingled while the crew waited. The men said again what an easy job it would be, hauling cargo from a ship that wasn’t wrecked, and in fair weather. They discussed ways of helping the captain move the ship from the reef to get it underway again.
A line jerked, and Jahner helped Lemuel crank the winch to haul up the hooked crate. A movement below the waves, and Homer’s head and shoulders appeared.
Sam threw him the line. “Any sign of Liam?”
Homer climbed aboard. “No. He should be up soon.”
The crate surfaced, and Sam helped pull it in, keeping an eye all the while on the slack second line.
Time stretched like elastic. The wait was too long. Liam had set a personal record of six minutes below the surface, but that was two years ago.
“He should have already been up.” Sam moved to the side. “It’s been too long. I’m going down.”
Lemuel laid a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll go too.”
Sam nodded. “The rest of you keep an eye out. I may need help. Something must have gone wrong.”
Jahner stepped toward him. “Everything’s fine, Sam.” His expression did nothing to hide his worry.
“I’m going down to make sure.” Filling his lungs, Sam dove in, following the line leading to Liam.
It ended abruptly. The line had been severed. He jerked it hard several times, and then swam deep below. The depths were murky; he had to feel his way to the ship, easing downward. A rush of current sucked him toward the opening, pushing him inside. He pulled himself next to the inside wall, trying to see. While his eyes adjusted to the dimness, a shape flapped in the water’s flow. He made his way toward it. The shape became a man, lifeless except for the water’s animation. He struggled to turn him around, coming face to face with Liam, open eyed, his stare a blank.
A burst of air escaped him. He desperately tugged his friend’s body. Liam’s arm was trapped between the ship and a heavy crate.
Lemuel appeared next to him, hook in hand. In an instant, the other diver appeared to understand the situation. Sam helped him secure the hook on the crate, and then tugged. Once the crate moved, he’d have to be fast to move Liam away or he’d be crushed. The crate lurched. Lemuel helped Sam guide it away from Liam. When Liam sunk deeper, Sam grabbed his shirt. Hauling Liam under his arm, he thrust himself upward. He had to get Liam to the surface, get him breathing again. Lemuel took hold of Liam’s other arm, His strong strokes soon pulled them both upward.
Sam’s legs splayed wildly. Kicking, he thrust himself upward. His chest ached, his lungs burned. He wanted to scream, but tears blinded him. He held tight to Liam, whose weight seemed double.
The shadow of the boat overhead came into view, and Sam reached upward, hoping someone would grab hold. Feeling someone’s grip, he tensed his arm to pull up over the surface, gasping. His lungs screamed for air.
At seeing their burden, Homer’s eyes widened. Many arms reached over the side to pull them both up. Sam threw his leg over the side, his chest heaving. Three men took hold of Liam. Their efforts to get him aboard rocked the boat.
Captain Howe hurried down the stairs. “Is he breathing? Get to work on him. Push the water out of his lungs fast. Get him breathing.”
The men had already begun their revival attempt. Long after they would have stopped trying on anyone else, the men pressed his belly, squeezing the sea from Liam like a sponge.
Sam sat by the rail watching the crowd of men, as unreal as a scene from the theater. None of it appeared real. He trembled, unable to move.
The men’s movements slowed. A silence fell over them. They surrounded Liam, kneeling or standing beside his limp body.
“Why are you stopping?” Sam pulled himself up and stumbled toward them. “Come on, keep at it. He’ll come around.”
Each man looked up, horror and sadness in their faces.
“What are you doing? You can’t just give up.”
Captain Howe stepped toward him. “Sam.”
“No.” Sam pushed past him, dropping to his knees, and pumping at Liam’s chest. “Come on, you bastard. Breathe. Breathe!”
The body beneath his hands lay motionless.
Sam pounded his fists into Liam’s stomach. “You can’t do this. I won’t let you.” He clenched his teeth, tears streaming down his face.
Someone grasped his shoulder. Sam lurched from his hold. “He owes me a bottle of rum.” He sat back and covered his mouth. The last words they’d exchanged had been in anger. Sam could never repair the damage.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The Florida returned to Key West after dark. Sam could not shake loose the daze engulfing him. He insisted on carrying Liam’s body to the wagon, where he carefully arranged him in the back. Homer drove them to Doctor Meade’s house. The examination took less than a minute. The doctor signed the death certificate, while Sam stared helplessly at the man who had been his best friend, more of a brother than Edward.
Sam barely registered it as Doctor Meade bid them goodnight.
Homer thanked the doctor, and then tugged Sam to the wagon. “We need a drink.”
Every table at the grogery sat full. Wreckers from The Florida, The Brilliant and other schooners, repeatedly hoisted their mugs in rowdy toasts to Liam.
He’d have loved it, Sam thought, a tear escaping down his deadened cheek. In salute, he lifted his ale.
Millie shuffled toward Sam, her hair as wild as her unseeing gaze. “Liam was to be my future. Now I have no future. What shall I do?” Searching his face, she clutched his shirt.
“What we all must do. Carry on.” He expected she would throw herself at him, at any man, to fill Liam’s absence, to soon forget him, but her glazed eyes and unkempt appearance spoke of genuine shock.
He stumbled to his cabin carrying a bottle of rum, the bottle he should have shared with Liam. Now he would never be able to. He cradled it to his chest, untying his boots, cocking one foot against the other, readying to remove them. A discreet knock at his door caused his heart to leap into his throat. “Livvie.” It had to be her. She knew he needed her and had come to him.
Lurching from the bed, he threw open the door.
Millie swayed on his doorstep.
“You haven’t been drinking.” His tone accused her without having to speak the words while you’re carrying Liam’s child.
“No, I’m too sick—in my stomach and my heart.” Her mouth curled downward, her lip trembling. “I don’t know what to do, Sam.” She whispered her desperate plea. “You must help me.”
Liam had loved this woman. The law would not provide for her. Sam knew where Liam hid his money. He had to act quickly, before others thought to loot his cabin.
He set the rum atop his dresser. “Stay here. I’ll be back soon.”
“Don’t leave me,” she sobbed, throwing her arms around his waist.
He resisted the urge to push her away. “If you want to be able to provide for yourself and your baby, I must go now.”
Tears streaming down her face, she released her hold.
He nudged her toward the bed. “Try to rest.”
Nodding, she collapsed on
his bed, sobs wracking her body.
After quickly re-tying his boots, he slipped from his cabin and down the dark streets. If he could do this one thing for his friend, it would be small repayment.
Liam’s cabin sat at the edge of Conchtown, the furthest from any others. The door opened easily; Liam never locked it, despite all it held.
He lit a small lantern, setting it on the floor. Using his knife, he pried up the third floorboard. Tucked beneath, a swatch of fabric tied into a bundle held money. His friend trusted no one but Sam. Even Sam probably didn’t know all the hiding places. Still, he would be able to give Millie whatever he could find, so she and the baby could live comfortably.
He lifted every floorboard, finding more cash.
“Where is it, you old bugger?” Somewhere here in the cabin Liam had stowed the grand prize. The one he would have used to buy his plantation on the mainland.
Sam lifted the mattress, feeling beneath. A small bundle lay in the center.
Sitting on the bed, he scoured the room. The rafters. He held the lantern up. A piece of fabric caught his eye. Climbing atop the bed, he plucked it from its perch. More money.
He stepped down, dragged the single wooden chair to the corner, and then held up the lantern. Nothing. He repeated the action in each corner. In the farthest one, a brick-sized object sat wrapped in black fabric.
Sam smiled. “Very smart, my friend.” In unwrapping it, the lantern caught the gold and gleamed. A gold bar. This would keep Millie and her baby for a lifetime.
He gathered it all together into a sheet, and then tied it up.
Hushed voices came from outside the cabin. Blowing out the lantern, Sam stepped behind the door. It creaked open. Footsteps were followed by a loud thud, accompanied by surprised cries when Sam tripped them.
Adam Stroh and Jacob Preston scrambled to their feet, crouched, ready to pounce as Sam relit the lantern.
“What are you doing here?”
Stroh looked pointedly at the mangled floor. “We might ask you the same thing.”
“I have personal business. You have none.” Sam gauged whether he could make a run through the door. His bundle would slow him down.
Stroh nodded at the tied-up sheet. “What have you got there?”
Sam straightened to his full height. “None of your business.”
Preston smiled. “We believe it is.”
“Step aside. Let me pass.”
Stroh stepped closer. “First show us what you have.” Preston moved to the side.
“Liam’s personal effects.” Sam stepped back to keep them both in his line of vision. Further from the door, but he would yet find an advantage.
“Yeah, sure. I bet they’re not so personal we all couldn’t share, eh?” Stroh glanced at Preston, who nodded.
Sam kept his voice even. “No.”
“You crazy bastard,” Preston said through clenched teeth. “We know Liam kept his fortune in here.”
Sam fought to calm his pounding heart. The boy’s arrogance would be his downfall, Sam guessed. “Only one person will have it.”
“Not you.” Preston lunged, fists swinging.
Sam’s foot landed on his hip, sending him backwards into Stroh.
He widened his stance. “This is for Millie. Liam was to marry her.”
The two exchanged confused glances.
“She’s carrying his child. Would you deprive two innocents of their due?” Passion and grace filled his plea. If they set upon him, he could not stop them.
Grumbling, they stood slowly.
Stroh wiped his mouth. “No.”
Preston pointed at Sam. “If you’re lying to us, we’ll take it out of your hide.”
Sam met his glare, knowing full well why Jacob Preston wanted a piece of him. It had nothing to do with Liam’s money, and everything to do with Livvie.
“I’ve no reason to lie,” Sam said. “I owe a debt to Liam. I intend to make sure it’s paid in full.”
Stroh jerked his head toward the outside. The men shuffled out of the cabin.
Shouldering the bundle, Sam turned out the lamp again, closing the door behind him. Approaching his cabin, the cries from within shook him to the core.
Millie lay on the bed, still sobbing inconsolably. She rolled toward him when he walked in. “Where have you been?”
“Retrieving this.” He laid the bundle on the bed beside her.
She blinked, pushing her hair off her face. “What is it?”
“Liam’s savings. He would have wanted you to have it.”
She gasped through her tears. “I—”
“You’ll need to spend it wisely.” He would not abide an argument from her. He guessed she wouldn’t argue much. “There should be plenty for you both.”
Her lip quivered. She threw her arms around Sam. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
He knew how. By not betraying Liam’s memory. He extracted himself from her embrace. “Use it to take good care of yourself.”
She nodded. “I’m going home. To Virginia. The baby will have a good home there.”
“You should go rest. I better keep this for tonight. Two men showed up at Liam’s. They may show up at your place.” He moved to the door. “I suggest you stay with Annie tonight. Come back in the morning for the money.”
“All right.” Before leaving, she kissed his cheek. For once, her look held no invitation, only gratitude and sadness.
Sam dropped to the bed. Images of Liam swept through his mind. Most vivid was the final look Liam gave him before diving to his death. A look of such weight, it nearly suffocated Sam.
He’d have no sleep tonight.
* * * *
Dishes clinked in the kitchen as Florie finished cleaning up for the night. Since her neighbor’s visit this afternoon, she’d fallen unnaturally quiet. For Florie not to sing or even hum must mean terrible news. For several hours, Livvie had wanted to seek her out, yet Mrs. Locke always managed to hinder her.
Livvie hurried down the hallway into the kitchen. “Florie,” she whispered.
Turning abruptly, Florie’s eyes flew wide. “Goodness, miss. You startled me.”
“I’m sorry. I’ve been dying to know–have you heard any news?” She searched the woman’s face.
As Florie dabbed at her eyes, Livvie’s insides went cold. Something awful had happened, then.
Hanging her head, the housekeeper leaned against the table. “Oh Miss Livvie, it’s too terrible to speak of.”
“Tell me, please! Don’t keep me in agony. Is it Sam?” Moments stretched to infinity waiting for the woman’s reply.
Flashing a tearful smile, Florie patted her arm. “No, Miss. His friend Liam Byrne.”
Gasping, Livvie clutched her hand. “Is he….” She couldn’t say the words.
A sob escaped Florie, who nodded. “Drowned. Poor, poor man. Poor Mr. Langhorne too. They say he tried to save him. It was too late. Too late.” Her shoulders shook with her tears.
“Oh no. Sam. I must see him. Have they returned?”
Raising her head, Florie’s expression blanched.
Livvie turned to see Mrs. Crowell in the doorway.
“You’ll go nowhere tonight, Olivia. A letter from your brother promises payment for your stay upon your safe passage to New Orleans. You won’t want to miss the ship’s launch tomorrow morning.” Her soft expression contradicted her cold tone.
“Mrs. Crowell—”
“I’ll abide no argument, Miss Collins. I wouldn’t want to have to call my dear friend, Captain Howe, to report Mr. Langhorne’s unsavory behavior.”
“How dare you suggest—”
“Now Olivia. I’m not suggesting anything.” Her tone indicated a knowledge rather than a suspicion.
Feeling her cheeks flush warm, Livvie held her tongue. No, an argument would do no good. Neither would a boarding house proprietress stand in her way. She’d find a way to see Sam.
* * * *
Morning dawned slowly, diffused by clouds.
Sam had drifted in and out of sleep for what had been left of the night. By the time Millie knocked on his door, he’d had enough of his bed. He leapt from it, throwing open the door.
Dark rings hung beneath Millie’s eyes. She stood dazed, not truly seeing what was before her.
“Millie. Come in.”
No one appeared to be following her. A good sign. Maybe Stroh and Preston would leave her alone.
She sat on the bed. Her voice had no tone, only breath. “I tossed and turned all night. When I awoke this morning, I thought it a terrible nightmare.” Her gaze met Sam’s. She sobbed, “It’s not. He’s really gone.”
He circled his arm around her and sat. “Shh. Now, now.”
She burrowed her head into his shoulder.
He let her cry until she had no more tears.
She pulled away, sniffling. “I’m sorry, Sam. I know you loved him too.”
“He was like a brother.” He crouched to retrieve the bundle beneath his bed. “Here it is. I didn’t count it. You should, though.”
“He’d be so proud of you.” Her lips twisted into a crooked smile, and tears rimmed her eyes.
“Do you have a safe place for it?” Though he didn’t want to alarm her, risks always existed regarding such a large amount of money.
She nodded. “I think so. Liam showed me a place to hide things. I had nothing to put in it until now.”
Just like Liam. “Good. Put it there right away.”
She lifted the bundle.
He walked her to the door and opened it.
She turned and laid her palm against his chest. “You’re a good man, Sam.”
He lifted her hand to his lips to kiss it. “Not as good as Liam.”
On tiptoe, she pressed her mouth to his cheek. “I’ll miss you.”
“You haven’t arranged passage yet, have you?”
“No, although I hope to soon. I’ll say a proper goodbye before I go.”
“I hope so.” He was surprised to realize he meant it.
Closing the door, he rubbed his hand across his face.
Livvie.
He had to see her. He had so much to tell her. This time, he would make sure she understood how much she meant to him.