The Emerald Key - By Christopher Dinsdale Page 0,25
of the distant river shores. On the far side of the hill was a scene that stabbed him in the heart. Large swaths of trees had been removed from the base of the hill and a small army of men worked spades into the earth, creating a series of long shallow pits. Other men were reaching into the back of a horse-drawn cart. The cart was full of shroud-covered bodies. The bodies were being carried to the long pits and unceremoniously dropped into the fresh earth. Another crew followed behind the cart and shovelled fresh dirt onto the mass grave. Jamie couldn’t tear his eyes away from the horrific sight, for he knew Erin was among those currently being placed in the grave. He kneeled down and whispered a prayer of peace and deliverance for his friend and her family.
A grey-haired man led the horse and now empty cart back towards the dock. Jamie ran down the hill and intercepted the cart at the path before it reached the quarantine station. He clenched the old man’s arm and pointed back to the graves.
“How many?” he asked, out of breath.
The old man glanced at him. “How many what?”
“How many dead are buried back there?”
He glanced back at the mass graves. “I’d have to say around three thousand are buried there now, but I’m not keeping a close count.”
“Three thousand?” Jamie repeated weakly. His mind couldn’t comprehend such a number.
“Sorry, son, but I need to move on. There are still a few more I need to pick up from the Independence.”
For the first time, a wave of dread washed over Jamie. Could Ryan be one of the three thousand buried here at Grosse Isle? He ran back to the buildings and, after searching the compound, found the clerk’s office. He burst in through the door with such force that the secretary nearly jumped out of her seat.
“Slow down, young man!” she chastised.
“I’m sorry,” said Jamie, trying to calm down, “but I desperately need your help. I am trying to find my brother who should have arrived here in the last week or two. Can you help me?”
“And you are?”
“Jamie Galway. A sailor on the Independence.”
She pushed herself away from the desk. “He’s a recent arrival, then? I think I can be of assistance. Let me check the newest documents.”
She turned to several wooden crates sitting on top of a low bookshelf.
“Name?”
“Ryan Galway.”
She shuffled through a set of papers. The wait was excruciating, and Jamie began to pace. Finally, she turned around.
“We don’t have any record of a Ryan Galway.”
Jamie almost choked on his next words. “Do your records include both the dead and living?”
“Yes, they do.”
Jamie’s head was spinning. “I thought all ships arriving in Canada had to anchor at Grosse Isle.”
“Not all ships do stop at Grosse Isle,” the secretary explained. “If we are overwhelmed with new arrivals, and we have been very busy the past few weeks, the immigration department will send the smaller ships on to a port city. Did your brother have his proper papers?”
Jamie felt a chill run down his spine. “I’m not sure.”
“It’s hard to believe, but we sometimes receive deceased without any papers. With no way to identify the bodies, they are simply lowered into the island graves as unknowns.”
“Do you know of the Carpathia? She likely arrived here last week.”
“Sorry, I don’t keep track of ship names, just the immigration papers.”
Jamie grasped the door handle. “Thank you for your help, and I apologize for my abrupt entrance.”
As Jamie stepped outside, he wasn’t sure if he should feel angry or relieved. At least his brother wasn’t in a mass grave here on the island. Or was he? Perhaps he never revived after the blows he received from the soldiers. Perhaps he died and was buried without proper papers. Perhaps his brother’s ship had run into the same storm they had two weeks ago. Did the Carpathia sink with all hands in the Atlantic? Perhaps that was the reason there was no record of him ever arriving at Grosse Isle. His head was swimming with possibilities, and none of them were very hopeful.
Jamie could see a tender from the Independence bringing more passengers to Grosse Isle. Captaining the small craft was Officer Keates, who was waving to Jamie. Jamie ran to the dock to meet him.
“I brought word of the Carpathia.”
Jamie held his breath. “Please, tell me!”
“The captain of the Nautilus told me that the Carpathia was ordered on to the city of Montreal, its final