Dawn on a Distant Shore by Sara Donati

Author:Sara Donati [Donati, Sara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-307-75654-1
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2010-08-24T16:00:00+00:00

Mac Stoker’s dark head appeared over the rail as sleekly wet as a newborn’s. Hannah watched this strange, upward birthing and held her breath. They all did: the sailors, Moncrieff, the captain, even Miss Somerville, who stood completely still, one hand held to her throat as if to keep herself from speaking. Giselle’s expression might have been carved from stone, but the man who came up the rope net had the kind of face that told stories. His black eyes chased the length of the ship, skimmed over Hannah and Curiosity, and skidded back again to come to rest on Mr. Smythe, who stood next to the captain with a musket aimed and cocked.

“Not much of a welcome, Pickering.”

He was a big man, more than a head taller than any of the men on the Isis. Over one broad shoulder he carried the boy like a sack. Stoker set him on his feet and he stood wobbling, looking about himself uncertainly.

“Your reputation precedes you, Mr. Stoker. What are you doing in these waters, and how come you to this lad?”

Stoker clucked his tongue. “And what should I be doin’ in these waters, but pursuin’ me line of work? Here I am out of the goodness of me heart with news you’ll be needing. And the lad, of course, unless you’re not wanting him. He calls himself Mungo.”

Hannah could barely withstand the urge to rush forward to shake news out of the boy, who stood squinting in the rain, pulling on the shock of blond hair that fell over his brow. There was dried blood on his ear.

“Mungo,” said Captain Pickering. “What happened?” The boy tugged harder on his hair. His mouth worked, but nothing came out.

Moncrieff thrust himself in front of the captain. “Give us your news, lad! What o’ your ship?”

Mungo flinched away, holding an arm up to his face.

“Addled,” said Stoker. “He won’t be talking much this day.”

Hakim Ibrahim said, “He has had a blow to the head. I need to examine him.” And without waiting for the captain’s approval he took Mungo by the arm and led him away.

“That’s too bad, but never mind,” said Stoker. “I can tell you what happened to the Osiris.”

Moncrieff whirled around to him. “Speak up!”

Stoker sucked in a cheek as he considered the smaller man. “And who might you be?”

“Angus Moncrieff. Factor and secretary to Earl o’ Carryck, the owner of the Osiris.”

“Ah,” said Stoker. He scratched the corner of his mouth thoughtfully. “Well, then, it’s bad news, I’m afraid. The Osiris is at the bottom of the sea.”

Hannah’s stomach rose into her gullet, pushing all her breath before it. Vaguely she felt Curiosity’s hand on her arm, holding her up and steering her to rest against the rail. There was a rushing in her ears so that she could hardly hear. She pressed her cheek to the cold, wet oak of the rail and closed her eyes, waiting for the world to right itself.

“… the Avignon. The captain meant to board her and take the cargo, but the gun crews were too enthusiastic in their work.

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