Read Online Jack Beale 00 - Killer Run by K.D. Mason - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: K.D. Mason
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Whitbey’s words were innocent enough, but something about the way he said them made her uneasy. She returned to her cabin, and it wasn’t until she had pulled the door shut tight that those feelings of unease began to release their grip on her.
CHAPTER 20
As she watched the boat pull away, with Mr. Whitbey sitting in the stern, hand on the tiller, there was a flurry of activity as the crew began the ritual of setting sail. They were already underway by the time Mr. Whitbey reached his ship, and as they sailed past, she could see him on the deck. She saw his head turn, his gaze following them, and there was no doubt in her mind that his attention was focused on her. She shivered and turned away.
She did not look again until Mr. Whitbey’s ship was far behind them. His sails were up and they were moving rapidly in the opposite direction. It didn’t take long for his ship to become a white handkerchief against the dark sea. Moments later it was a mere speck on the horizon. Then it was gone and they were once again alone.
The sun had disappeared over the horizon at nearly the same time that Mr. Whitbey’s ship had disappeared. The night air was cool so Christine turned to go below to her cabin. As she turned, the cook approached and inquired if she was hungry. Until that moment, because of all the excitement, she hadn’t given food any thought, but now, with its mention, she realized just how hungry she was.
“I am,” she replied. He said that he would bring supper to her cabin.
Consequently, she expected that the sudden knock on her cabin door announced that food had arrived, but when she opened it, instead of the cook with her tray, she was face to face with the Captain.
“Miss Armitage, would you join me in my cabin for supper?” His invitation was phrased as a question, but there was no doubt that she was not being given a choice. Before she could muster a reply, his intent was clarified. “I saw the cook and instructed him that you would be joining me. He is just now arriving.”
All she could say was, “Of course. Thank you.”
“Good.” And with that he turned and strode toward his cabin. She paused a moment, then followed.
Perhaps it was because of her hunger, but the dinner was splendid. The Captain even offered her wine. It wasn’t long before the awkward silence that had begun the meal was replaced with polite conversation and laughter.
Perhaps emboldened by the wine, Christine suddenly asked, “Captain, tell me more about Mr. Whitbey.”
With that question, she could feel the atmosphere change as a chill descended upon the table, and she knew that she had made a mistake. His smile remained, but now it seemed forced.
“Why do you ask?” Even as he spoke, she could sense that he was trying to mask the tension in his voice.
“I know little about ocean voyages, but it struck me as unusual that we should have run into another ship, a ship whose master was an old friend of my uncle’s. Also, he didn’t strike me as a very nice man, and I find it hard to believe that he and my uncle know each other, let alone are friends.”
“Mr. Whitbey may seem a hard man, but he is a man of great character and a fine seaman.”
“Tell me, then, how he knows my uncle.”
“As you know, your uncle is a successful merchant in Newport. Mr. Whitbey is one of many shipmasters, like myself, who set sail for your uncle. Simply, he finances the voyage and upon our return, benefits from the profits. Your uncle has been both lucky and shrewd, and as such he is now one of the wealthiest men in Newport.”
“I saw Mr. Whitbey hand you a letter. Was it word from my uncle?”
If the atmosphere at the table had cooled when she had first asked about Mr. Whitbey, then with this last question it truly froze over.
He stiffened and offered no explanation other than a hard look. From his demeanor, she understood that she had pressed too far and that to ask anything further would be a mistake. She said nothing more and simply looked
CHAPTER 20
As she watched the boat pull away, with Mr. Whitbey sitting in the stern, hand on the tiller, there was a flurry of activity as the crew began the ritual of setting sail. They were already underway by the time Mr. Whitbey reached his ship, and as they sailed past, she could see him on the deck. She saw his head turn, his gaze following them, and there was no doubt in her mind that his attention was focused on her. She shivered and turned away.
She did not look again until Mr. Whitbey’s ship was far behind them. His sails were up and they were moving rapidly in the opposite direction. It didn’t take long for his ship to become a white handkerchief against the dark sea. Moments later it was a mere speck on the horizon. Then it was gone and they were once again alone.
The sun had disappeared over the horizon at nearly the same time that Mr. Whitbey’s ship had disappeared. The night air was cool so Christine turned to go below to her cabin. As she turned, the cook approached and inquired if she was hungry. Until that moment, because of all the excitement, she hadn’t given food any thought, but now, with its mention, she realized just how hungry she was.
“I am,” she replied. He said that he would bring supper to her cabin.
Consequently, she expected that the sudden knock on her cabin door announced that food had arrived, but when she opened it, instead of the cook with her tray, she was face to face with the Captain.
“Miss Armitage, would you join me in my cabin for supper?” His invitation was phrased as a question, but there was no doubt that she was not being given a choice. Before she could muster a reply, his intent was clarified. “I saw the cook and instructed him that you would be joining me. He is just now arriving.”
All she could say was, “Of course. Thank you.”
“Good.” And with that he turned and strode toward his cabin. She paused a moment, then followed.
Perhaps it was because of her hunger, but the dinner was splendid. The Captain even offered her wine. It wasn’t long before the awkward silence that had begun the meal was replaced with polite conversation and laughter.
Perhaps emboldened by the wine, Christine suddenly asked, “Captain, tell me more about Mr. Whitbey.”
With that question, she could feel the atmosphere change as a chill descended upon the table, and she knew that she had made a mistake. His smile remained, but now it seemed forced.
“Why do you ask?” Even as he spoke, she could sense that he was trying to mask the tension in his voice.
“I know little about ocean voyages, but it struck me as unusual that we should have run into another ship, a ship whose master was an old friend of my uncle’s. Also, he didn’t strike me as a very nice man, and I find it hard to believe that he and my uncle know each other, let alone are friends.”
“Mr. Whitbey may seem a hard man, but he is a man of great character and a fine seaman.”
“Tell me, then, how he knows my uncle.”
“As you know, your uncle is a successful merchant in Newport. Mr. Whitbey is one of many shipmasters, like myself, who set sail for your uncle. Simply, he finances the voyage and upon our return, benefits from the profits. Your uncle has been both lucky and shrewd, and as such he is now one of the wealthiest men in Newport.”
“I saw Mr. Whitbey hand you a letter. Was it word from my uncle?”
If the atmosphere at the table had cooled when she had first asked about Mr. Whitbey, then with this last question it truly froze over.
He stiffened and offered no explanation other than a hard look. From his demeanor, she understood that she had pressed too far and that to ask anything further would be a mistake. She said nothing more and simply looked
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