Now it was Persis’ turn to take full notice. The mail packet—her own chance of getting on to Key West. For a moment she relished the thought of such escape. Then she remembered Molly and Shubal. Knowing the rigors of their trip from New York, she could not condemn either of the servants to a further sea voyage until they were well again and she could not venture alone.
But perhaps the visit of the very welcome ship which was a tie with civilization as she knew it would be in port here long enough to make sure of their recovery— It was Mrs. Pryor who put an end to that small hope.
“They will take off some of the men of the Arrow if they will. Though, Captain Fosdick does not take kindly to crowding. At least he can carry news to Key West and perhaps the owners will make provision for another ship to pick them up here.”
“They will take a letter?” Persis held on to her second hope. She had written to Mr. Hogue on the night of her uncle’s burial—asked him, if possible, to recommend a lawyer in Key West—though she was not sure he would know of any trustworthy man.
“The Captain will have the mail bag; he has his own affairs concerning the Arrow to settle.”
“And it will be long enough before he sails himself again,” Lydia said. “He won’t care much about having to delegate duties to others.” She was smiling as if the thought of her brother’s irritation pleased her in some way.
“I’ll get my letter.” Persis could not sit any longer waiting. Even to send the missive off to Mr. Hogue would be some small satisfaction. Also, she could certainly ask Captain Pettigrew to make inquiries for her. Perhaps if the Captain was preparing to leave she must do that first!
Excusing herself, she hurried to her chamber for the broad-brimmed bonnet which she had found was her best protection against the sun. And took from her small lap desk the letter she had written to Mr. Hogue. She could leave that with Captain Leverett and then walk down to the “hotel” and search out Captain Pettigrew.
Rapping on the chamber door confronting hers, she heard a muffled voice from within giving her permission to enter. But when she came into the room she found Captain Pettigrew there also, standing beside the bed while Captain Leverett sorted through some papers the other had spread out before him.
“I’m sorry—” She was disconcerted at breaking in upon what appeared to be a business conference. But Captain Leverett was already single-handedly shuffling the papers together rather clumsily and holding them out to his companion.
“There is something I can do for you, Miss Rooke? But first I fear I have a disappointment for you. The Annie B. will not accept female passengers. I know Captain Fosdick and he has no accommodations for ladies on board. So I am afraid that you will have to stay with us a little while longer. Now if it had been the Swallow, which we were half-expecting—”
“I could not go anyway—now.” Persis was so intent upon what she must do she brushed aside his explanation. “Both Molly and Shubal are ill. I would not go and leave them. But I do have a letter,” she produced it as well as her netted purse in which was the small sum of money left from her last housekeeping allowance. “This must go to Uncle Augustin’s lawyer—in New York. And,” now she turned to Captain Petti-grew, “you are going to Key West?”
He nodded, his square-cut, gray-salted beard wagging up and down.
“Have to, Miss Rooke. Have to get in touch with the owners. We might have saved the Arrow—but that last blow—” He shook his head. “That nigh ripped the bottom out of her. She’s only good for firewood now.”
“Then if you will do me a service, sir, I shall be greatly in your debt. I am told there are reputable lawyers in the town; find me one who is reliable so that I may discover more of my uncle’s affairs in the islands. I have been given to understand that I may face difficulties there.”
The Captain bowed awkwardly. “That I will do surely, Miss Rooke. You’ll have a message back when we send for the rest of the crew—this Annie B. will only ship four of us. I’m leaving Mr. Wilkinson, my mate, in charge here. He’ll be glad to give you a hand if you need it—” Now he looked back at Captain Leverett. “He was on the China run a while back and knows how to handle pirates. If you have the arms, my crew will back you in any trouble with the Indians.”
“Well enough,” Captain Leverett said. He had taken Persis’ letter and was stowing it away with others into a stained bag. “Take this out with you to the Annie B. The boatmen will bring back any they have for the island.”
“Wait,” Persis was busy freeing the ring closing her purse. “There is postage due. To go to New York—”
Captain Leverett shook his head. “We have a yearly contract with the mailboats. They come seldom enough to make a good profit—and we might as well use up all the surplus we can. Keep your money, Miss Rooke.”
She could not keep on urging him. But she disliked being again beholden to him for even so small a matter. However, when she turned toward the door, he spoke again with his usual to-be-obeyed tone of voice:
“If you will wait for a moment, Miss Rooke. Well, Pettigrew, that finishes it. You can turn that claim over to the court in Key West and send the copy to your owners. I’m plagued sorry we had the second blow—we could have gotten your ship afloat if it hadn’t been for that. But there’s a full description of what happened for the claims court, and I cannot see how you or your crew can be faulted in any way.”
Captain Pettigrew sighed. “Facts are facts right enough. But to owners they don’t add up sometimes high enough to match dollars and cents. You’ve treated us fair, Captain. It ain’t your fault either that we couldn’t save her after you worked her off that reef. And you’re more than fair in writing it all down like you did. I’ll be going now—no use keepin’ the boat waiting. And you, Miss,” he sketched an awkward bow to Persis. “I’ll do just as you ask and get in touch with some law man for you.”
“Good luck, Captain,” she had just time enough to say before the door closed behind him. Then as the silence grew and Crewe Leverett made no move to explain why he had asked her to stay, just half-lay, half-sat in the huge bed, his shoulder well wedged motionless with pillows, she added nervously:
“I seem to be unable to be the proper guest, Captain”
“How is that?” He was frowning a little once more as if, while he watched her so intently, he was trying to solve some problem of his own.
“I am unable to withdraw my presence—though I am uninvited.”
“Every once in a while,” he said slowly, “the sea gives more generously than it takes away. Have you ever gathered shells along the shore, Persis?”
His complete change of subject, as well as his bold use of her name startled her. Or—a spark of anger (the kind which somehow he could always awaken in her) came to life. Was he thus obliquely approaching the subject of Ralph Grillon—trying to learn whether she had kept another rendezvous with the Bahamian captain?
“No, I have not,” she returned somewhat sharply.
“There are some beautiful ones—gems of the sea.” His eyes were still holding hers. “Lydia has a taste for such harvesting—ask her to show you. Those who first built here used clam shells to mix with the earth to rear the mounds of their city—pave their trails. Yes, you must go shelling before you leave us, Persis, and see how generous the sea can be in its own way.”
She could not understand his change of mood, nor be sure that there was not a subtle hint in his talk of shelling along the shore. Now she was at a loss as to how to reply as a short silence held between them.
“What do you think of Lost Lady Key, Persis?” again he changed the subject.
“What I have seen of it,” she answered, “is at least very different from New York.” Her words sounded so inane in her own ears that she thought he might well dismiss her now as a female completely lacking in brains. Of course, it was different from New York. But she was not going to go into detail about her continued uneasiness in this house, the strange dreams which had plagued her, and her fear of the sea storms.