before Jem returned, laden with booty, Cyrus running beside him. Finn was close behind him and the three of
them were covered in dust. Dumping his treasures on the sand beside her, he
showed her a deck prism, one of the heavy glass prisms laid flush with the
decks of ships to provide light in the dark cabins below, a handsome carved
box, and a cane with a chased gold handle shaped like a bear’s head.
“Where have you been?” Callie demanded. “You didn’t get all this dust on you
scavenging on the seashore.”
Jem laughed. “We were in a tomb.”
“A tomb?” Callie fixed Finn with a disapproving eye. “Grave robbing, Finn?”
Finn and Jem laughed. “Not grave robbing,” Jem told her. “The tunnels, under the cliff, one of them
comes up in old Lady Sedgewyck’s tomb in the church.”
“You’re joking.”
“She’s not in there.”
“She’s buried in the crypt with her
husband,” Finn told Callie. “The tomb
was built to cover the entrance of the tunnel by the parson of the time. He used to hide his smuggler’s goods in the
tomb from the revenue men.”
“Good lord.”
“This one’s a natural,” Finn told her,
nodded at Jem, “fast as lightning.”
Callie knew she could not object to Jem’s
joining the salvagers, after all, did they not occasionally go to visit the
crypt of the abandoned church where Kit had left his store of pirate’s
treasure? Those were stolen goods as
well, though taken after a chase and, often a battle—to the victor go the
spoils and all that—while this seemed somehow like a pack of vultures
scavenging a helpless corpse.
“Were there any survivors?” she asked.
Finn shook his head. “Not among the crew; their bodies washed up
and were taken away by the authorities. As for the passengers . . .” He shrugged. “There’s no way of knowing; it was a
transport ship bound for America. If any
of the convicts made it to shore, they’d not have lingered.”
“I suppose not.”
Finn swung down the heavy bag he carried
slung over his shoulder. He rummaged
inside it and brought out a spyglass of brass and rosewood and held it out to
her.
“Here, take it to keep an eye on this young
scamp,” he told her.
“Thank you,” Callie said, taking the
spyglass from him. “Will you come
in? Perhaps you could stay to dinner.”
“That’s kind of you,” he said, “but I want
to get this lot home. Another time?”
“Another time, then,” she agreed.
He paused while Jem gathered his loot and disappeared
into the cottage. “I’ve spoken to the
butcher,” he told Callie softly, “and he’s willing to save a puppy for the
lad. I’ve picked out a fine one who
looks a lot like his dad, the randy old beggar.” He gave Cyrus a fond look and the dog wagged
his tail.
“Have you told Jem?”
Finn shook his head. “When the pup’s ready to leave his mam, I’ll
bring him round as a surprise for him, if that’s agreeable.”
“Very agreeable, thank you, Finn,” Callie
said.
He nodded and they gazed at one another for
a long, silent moment before Finn swung his bag back up onto his shoulder. “Well, I’d best be getting home. Good day to you, Mrs. Jenkins.”
Callie laughed. “Good day yourself, Mr. Blount.”
Finn chuckled and turned away and, with a
soft whistle for Cyrus, moved away down the beach, the heavy bag of his
salvager’s prizes swinging on his back.
Chapter Six
“Ma’am,” Gemma called, “there’s a cart
outside full of ladies.”
“Ladies?” Callie went to the window. “Oh,
it’s Mademoiselle La Salle, the dressmaker, but what is she doing here? I expected her to send me a message when my
dress was finished.”
A knock on the front door took them both to
the entrance by the parlor. Callie
opened