The Emerald Key - By Christopher Dinsdale Page 0,68

Irishman veering off on a southwest heading down the channel between the town of Kingston and Wolfe Island. Beyond Wolfe Island lay the open waters of Lake Ontario. Big John knew only too well the summer storms that could blow up at a moment’s notice on the wild open waters of Lake Ontario. Did Jamie have a clue as to the dangers that could be awaiting him as he attempted to cross the great lake?

Still, Big John couldn’t help but grin as Jamie stepped out of the wheelhouse one more time and waved thanks, finishing off the gesture with a big salute. Big John saluted back. That kid had managed to successfully steer his ship through the narrow channels of the Thousand Islands, and on a cloudy night to boot. Perhaps the young lad would be all right after all. The Flying Irishman belched thick grey smoke as it accelerated toward the open water. Lord knows what that crazy boy and his crew in diapers were planning to do with a brand new steamship. He then remembered Jamie’s words. Perhaps it was better not to know.

“Good luck to you, boy!” he shouted, and gave his brass bell two mighty rings.

Chapter 18

Brimming with excitement, Chamberlain pushed the stranger through the office door. Together, they strode up to the men sitting at the table. The stranger sported a shock of white hair and a face so craggy it would have made the cliffs of Dover proud. Jonathon Wilkes and Walter Reeves gazed up from a large map of the St. Lawrence River.

“This is Captain Sanderson of the Chippewa,” said Chamberlain. “I was down at the pub asking all of the newly arriving crews and captains whether they might have seen our missing ship, perhaps abandoned or wrecked somewhere along the St. Lawrence. I think the captain here has a story that you both might find interesting.”

“Thank you for coming,” Reeves stated. “Any help in retrieving our missing ship will be greatly appreciated. Tell us, what did you see?”

“Well, sir,” Sanderson answered in a thick Scottish accent, “I was pulling out of Kingston harbour with a full load of timber when I spied my friend Big John Rice and his ship the Kentson. As she turned in toward the harbour, a second ship suddenly appeared off its portside. Lower and sleeker than the Kentson, it was a brand new double-stacked wheeler. The only ship I’ve ever seen like her was that new ship of yours, the Carpathia II, while she was tied to the dock up in Prescott. I thought she wasn’t due out of the shipyard yet, but I just assumed that I was wrong and she must be out on her first run into Lake Ontario. Deciding to check her out with my looking glass, I was thrown by the strange name I saw on the bow. It was blurry, probably hand-painted, but I thought it said something like the Flying Irishman.”

“The Flying Irishman?” questioned Reeves. “What in blazes is my ship doing with that name?”

“A little humour from the children would be my guess,” chuckled Wilkes. “I think we may have found our pint-sized Irish thieves.”

Fuming, Reeves slammed a fist on the table. “I don’t care if they’re the funniest comedy team on the face of the Earth. They have stolen company property and I want it back! The president of the company himself is breathing down my neck and said he is holding me personally responsible for the safe return of his ship. If that ship is damaged in any way, I’ll be fired!”

“It’s not your fault the ship was commandeered,” countered Wilkes.

“He blames me for not having more watchmen on the dock that night,” Reeves mumbled.

“At least we know where it is,” said Wilkes, pulling out a new map. “The east end of Lake Ontario.”

“I can’t believe those little Irish brats managed to sail it all the way through the Thousand Islands,” commented Chamberlain. “That’s a tough piece of navigation.”

“Are you complimenting them?” shouted Reeves.

“Look at it this way,” said Wilkes to both men. “At least your boat is still in one piece. That means you both still have your jobs.”

“You’re right,” agreed Reeves, sighing. “We need to catch them before they destroy that ship and my future.”

“And what about the chase ship?” Wilkes asked Chamberlain.

“The Maid of the Rideau is approaching the Port of Montreal as we speak,” said Chamberlain. “We’ll load her up with fuel and fresh food as quickly as we can. With no cargo