The Emerald Key - By Christopher Dinsdale Page 0,44
fight through the pain and organize his thoughts. “Do you know of a place where the captains of ships like to go after a long voyage?”
“Most of the captains head down to the pub by the docks. I often went down there to see if any captains needed older orphans for crew. They mostly refused, thinking the orphans might be sick, and they didn’t want to infect the rest of their crew. It’s a scary place at night. It’s better to go down there during the day.”
“I need you to take me there right now.”
“Why?”
“I need to track down the captain of the Carpathia.”
Her eyes widened. “You’re not going to do anything to him, are you?”
“I’d be lying if the thought hadn’t crossed my mind.”
A tear spilled down Beth’s cheek. “Please don’t! I don’t want to see you go to jail, or worse, be killed!”
He smiled half-heartedly. “Don’t worry. I’m a priest.”
She took a step back. “Really?”
“Yes, I am. And I won’t take you back to the orphanage. Being a priest also means that I won’t hit anyone. Besides, I can think of much better ways to deal with scum like the captain of the Carpathia. But right now, all I need to do is go talk to him.”
She glanced down the darkened street. “So we’re going now?”
He nodded. “Go get Colin.”
Beth dove in among the boxes, blew out the tiny candle, and led Colin through the wooden maze back to Jamie. Colin was tired. but he held his tongue, sensing an anger in Jamie that he had never felt before from his friend. As they walked along, Jamie passed out two small loaves of bread to the ravenous children, which they hungrily ate. Beth led them through several dark alleys until they reached the river’s north bank.
The long docks that jutted out into the dark waters of the St. Lawrence River wrapped themselves around the berthed ships like the giant tentacles of a wooden sea monster. The children carefully made their way through a hive of filthy men loading timber into an enormous ship. Jamie then spied a smaller ship behind the one loading lumber. Pieces of the deck had been removed and its long masts were lying horizontally on the quay beside the hull. He felt a flash of rage as he read the name on the bow. Carpathia. The ship of death.
Across from the ships were a collection of several small, ramshackle buildings. Rough-looking men staggered out through the doors of the largest structure. They were holding on to each other for balance, and they threw slurred curses at the men who followed them out with crossed arms, watching them leave. A pair of women lurking in the shadows strutted up to the departing sailors and, putting their arms around the men’s waists, joined them in their weaving walk back toward a collection of cheap hotels. Jamie wondered whether Beth was right. Was it wise for him to take young children into such a shady establishment? Now he had no choice. It was better to stick together than for him to leave the children outside in such a rough area.
They entered the noisy building from which the sailors staggered. Jamie gagged on the thick fog of tobacco smoke that filled the pub. Rude and raucous voices cut through the blue haze as a piano player banged away on an out-of-tune upright piano in the far corner. Several gruff sailors eyed Jamie and the children suspiciously as they stepped into the melee. Cautiously, Jamie made his way through the rough crowd, and after checking to make sure the children were right behind him, tracked down the bartender.
“I’m looking for the captain of the Carpathia,” Jamie shouted over the din of the unsavoury customers.
“Never heard of him or the ship.” The bartender shrugged.
Jamie slid a few coins to the bartender. “I’m not here to cause trouble. I just want to ask him a few questions.”
The bartender stared at Jamie for a few seconds then down at the children he had in tow. He shrugged and took the coins. “See the back table by the window? Black beard and cap. That’s Captain Jack Chamberlain. He sails the Carpathia.”
The bartender walked down the counter to serve another customer as Jamie turned and sized up the table in the corner. Four men sat around the small round table, ales in hand. All were older, broad-shouldered and craggy-faced, but only one wore a cap, the captain. The captain of the Carpathia was leading