sea breeze lifted the short layers of her dark hair, combing it in a manner that tempted him to raise his hand and touch it, touch her.
Finally, after a long and silent pause, she spoke directly to him, challenging him with a defiant gaze. “I want to be with you when you talk to those men about Andrew.” He opened his mouth to argue, but she held up her palm. “I won’t speak. I will only listen. I promise.”
“On your honor?”
“Cross my heart and hope to—” She stopped. “Never mind.”
“You have changed your mind?”
“No,” she quickly answered. “I swear I’ll keep my mouth shut. How soon can you speak to them?”
“We must do so now. They’re not coming with us.”
“Why not? There’s nothing here for them. You said so yourself. Isn’t San Diego a better place for them to find work?”
“They have decided to remain behind and take their chances that the owner of the Mystic will have sent another ship, though I doubt it.”
“Then tell them to come with us. There’s no food or medical help here to keep them alive, especially for the one who needs at least a couple more weeks of care and attention.”
“Aside from leaving behind a fair amount of food, I am afraid it is out of my hands.”
“But you’re the captain.”
“Of the Valiant , my dear. Not the Mystic . They have no allegiance to me.”
“So? Those men might die if they stay here.”
“They would rather take the risk.”
“Over what? Sailing with you?” After a momentary pause, she continued with an amazingly accurate appraisal of the situation at hand. “It’s me, isn’t it?”
He reluctantly nodded. “So it appears.”
“But that doesn’t make any sense.”
“Be that as it may, they’ve made their decision. Now, as for you, do you still wish to listen when I question them?”
“Yes, of course.”
“No talking?”
“No talking.”
When asked about a blond boy they might have seen three months earlier, the sailors described a mischievous little liar with wild stories and a mean streak. He had somehow slipped aboard ship in San Diego. Found in the captain’s quarters, the boy had been accused of thievery, though he’d had no coin on him. The captain had beaten the lad. Not surprisingly, the boy had fled the next day.
The story jogged Blake’s memory. He recalled the latter weeks in December, when the Valiant had been anchored off the beach of San Diego to deliver a cargo of cattle hides to the hide houses on shore. He had witnessed the return of a young cabin boy to the Mystic . Captain Johnson had offered a ten-dollar reward for the lad, half the price of an able-bodied sailor who deserts his ship. Blake had seen enough of these runaways to harden his heart to their plight. Still, he’d felt sympathy for the scrappy young blond boy. But he’d forced it out of his mind. He could not save every frightened green hand who had yet to double the Horn. Time and work toughened the stronger ones and turned the weaker ones away from any notion of further adventures at sea. Such was the way of a nautical life, and he had no authority to intervene.
Blake listened as Mrs. Edwards learned that the boy, quite likely her own son, had endured unspeakable punishment from the captain. He stepped closer to her when the tears trailed down her cheeks. But she bravely insisted on hearing everything. The boy had managed a successful escape with the help of two shipmates. They had hidden him on one of the boats when they rowed ashore at San Juan Capistrano for hides. The mission priest had agreed to take the boy in.
When the sailors finished their despondent tale, Mrs. Edwards turned to Blake. “I need to go to Capistrano.”
“San Juan,” he corrected. Although he would agree to make an unscheduled stop, he had no intentions of leaving her there alone and on her own.
On board the Valiant , Blake escorted the widow to his cabin at the stern of the ship. Followed closely by his dog, he was certain his guest
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