The Girl from Everywhere (The Girl from Everywhere #1)(28)

As I was worrying over the arrangement, a voice drifted in.

“Hallooooo! Halloo, the Temptation!”

I listened, but no one else answered. Of course not; it was Slate’s watch. I left off my fussing and headed topside.

“Halloo, the ship!”

I went to the rail and peered down. A man in his early forties stood on the dock below me, dressed in slim-cut black trousers and a fine frock coat, all of it wool, and though the sun was still quite high, he didn’t appear to notice the heat. “Who are you?”

He squinted up at me and shaded his eyes, making a moue behind his dark blond French-forked beard. “Good day. I’ve a message for the captain of the ship.”

I narrowed my eyes; he hadn’t answered my question. “From who?”

“I represent a group of persons interested in arranging a business transaction,” he said, as easily as a lawyer.

“And who are these persons?” I reiterated, with deliberate slowness.

“I am not at liberty to say,” he responded, as though he found that disappointing. “May I come up and speak with him?”

Bee leaned over the rail beside me. I gave the man credit; he didn’t so much as blink when he saw her. “Go on,” she said to me, putting her hand on the holster at her hip.

“Pardon?” Her voice hadn’t carried to the man’s ears.

“I’m coming down,” I shouted.

I made my way down the gangplank and stood before him on the deck. He was a full head taller than I was; I had to shade my eyes as I looked up at him. Had the man purposely positioned himself so the sun would be over his shoulder? “I’m the captain’s daughter. What can I do for you?”

The curve of the man’s smile was half a degree from condescending. “A pleasure to meet you. When might the captain be available?”

“It’s impossible to say,” I said as sweetly as I could. “Until I know what he is making himself available for.”

“I see.” The smile was still there, but the mirth had gone. “Then you may tell him I was sent by a mutual friend.”

“The captain doesn’t have any friends here.”

“On the contrary, he has many friends! He has not yet met them all, but I am eager to make the introduction. I’ve heard so much about him.” His voice was deceptively light. “Quite extraordinary, the stories of his exploits. Almost . . . unbelievable.”

The skin behind my ears prickled. What did he know? “Well,” I said, trying to match his tone. “I wouldn’t make a habit of believing every bit of gossip I heard.”

“Oh, I don’t.” He let his eyes rove over the Temptation: the carved keel, the brazen figurehead. He nodded toward the mermaid. “The things she must have seen, eh?”

I swallowed the sudden tightness in my throat. “If there’s nothing more—”

“Just one thing. Please do tell him we will reward him generously for his help.”

“We don’t need money.” I turned to leave.

“I’m not offering money.”

I paused with one foot on the gangplank, unwilling to ask. He told me anyway.

“We have in our possession a treasure map.” He steepled his fingers in front of his lips. “And the treasure is one only your captain can claim, because he’s the one who lost it, back in 1868.”

Damn everything.

A mutual friend. I gritted my teeth. She’d said it, even before I’d asked her for maps—a tall stranger and a long journey—but this was not Adelphi and she was no oracle. It wasn’t hard to see the future when you were the one planning it. She must have been ready for Slate’s return, as patient as a spider on a web. But I was the one caught, unable to escape the threads of my past.

Then I had an odd thought, a ray of hope. “The map. Is the drafter’s name Sutfin?”

“No,” he said, with a smile that was practically a twinkle. “It is not.”

I felt like Ulysses myself then, between Scylla and Charybdis, the beast and the abyss. I closed my eyes, struggling for composure. “Come back tomorrow.”

The man took his leave, strolling merrily away, while I climbed the gangplank with heavy steps. Bee was shaking her head. “Never trust a man with a beard. They’re always hiding something.”

“And not just his chin. He wouldn’t tell me his name or his business.”

Bee rolled her shoulders. “Might be best if he never does.”

I grimaced. “He doesn’t strike me as the type to give up easily.”

“I could take us out to sea,” she offered. “The gentleman won’t be swimming in that suit.”

“And the next time we’re in New York, the map will be waiting for us at Christie’s for twice the price. I can’t escape it, Bee.” I started toward the captain’s door.

“Then fight it.”

“That doesn’t work.”

“That’s because you’ve been fighting with him.” She sighed, the air rasping in her throat. “You don’t have to help him. You’re not responsible. It isn’t your fault your mother’s gone.”

My breath hitched in my throat, and she reached out with unusual tenderness and put her thumb on my chin. Then she clapped my shoulder.