Ghost Messages Read Free

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
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    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