Ghost Messages Read Free Page B

snorted. “The captain may be the boss above decks, but make no mistake, down below, I run this ship. One of my lads overheard you tell the purser about the cash when you had him lock it in the safe.”
    “That money is for my family.” Paddy said defensively. “I sold our land in Ireland and we’re going to make a fresh start in Canada.”
    “I’d say that may be tough to do once I show the captain this…”
    As Ailish watched, Dalton held up a copy of the London Illustrated News . The outsize headline read “Fenian Traitors Plan To Wreck Transatlantic Cable!”
    “If anything were to happen to the cable now, everyone will know an Irishman’s to blame and this will show them which lying dog it was.” Dalton pointed to the large picture under the headline and Paddy leaned forward to peer at it closely.
    “That’s rubbish! I’m not a Fenian!” he protested indignantly. “I was at the meeting, yes, because the Fenians wish a free Ireland and so do I. I went to listen, but when they started talking violence, I wanted no part of it. That picture was taken moments before I left.”
    “It looks like proof of a plot to me. If I show Captain Anderson, he’ll throw you in the brig to make sure nothing happens to his precious cable, and then he’ll turn you over to the police when we reach Newfoundland. They’ll lock you up and hire a hangman.” The corners of Dalton’s mouth turned up in a sly smile. “Or we could do a private deal and the captain need never see this.”
    “Why, you rotten... You’ll not get that eighty pounds! It’s all the money my family has.” Paddy took a menacing step toward Dalton, who stumbled backward in his haste to avoid the angry sailor.
    “Back off, Whelan! I told you, belowdecks I run this ship, and you could end up having a little accident.”
    “Don’t threaten me, Dalton. Do what you must. I won’t give you one farthing.” Paddy spun on his heel and stalked away.
    Dalton watched him leave before following at a safe distance.
    Ailish wasn’t sure what to make of their argument, but did know she now had a chance to follow the low-life thief who had stolen her treasure. She shoved on the crude wooden lid. With a groan of protest, it slid open and she hopped out, pushing it back into place behind her.
    Trying not to make any noise on the cold iron floor, she hurried toward the stairs. With a little luck, she could catch up with Dalton and hopefully, he’d lead her to the fabulous horse.
    She’d reached the bottom stair when she heard men’s voices coming from above.
    Looking around, Ailish frantically tried to find someplace to take cover. Her crate was far across the hold and she’d never have time to crawl back in without the sailors seeing her.
    “Over here! Hurry, miss!” The command came to her from behind several large wooden barrels that were stacked beside the stairs.
    Surprised, Ailish stopped, unsure she’d heard right.
    “Come on!” the voice urged again, this time, with a distinct note of irritation.
    Peering into the darkness, she tried to see who’d spoken. Should she trust this unknown rescuer? She had to. There was no time to investigate if whoever owned this mystery voice would be any more dangerous than the men coming. She darted for the barrels and squeezed herself into the small space behind them.
    A boy about her age, with curly dark hair and a mischievous look about him, squatted there. Hoping she was doing the right thing, she squished herself beside him.
    Together, Ailish and her new ally watched as two gruff looking men climbed down the stairs then strode over to the very crate she’d been hiding in and wrenched the lid off. She gulped.
    They lifted out several machine parts then replaced the lid, nailing it shut before leaving.
    Ailish couldn’t believe it. If it hadn’t been for this stranger, she would have run right into the sailors on the stairs, or worse, they would have found her cowering in the wooden box.

3
    Stowaway!
    .--