small child can be so challenging,” she’d told Allie and Frank over tea in the formal parlor of the Howard mansion. “You’ve never been a mother before, Allegra. You have no experience with children. For Gillian’s sake, we should look for someone older to help you. Don’t you agree, Frank?”
Of course, Frank had agreed. Frank never argued with his mother. Allie had already been wondering about her ability to raise such an active little girl, so she’d agreed, as well. Gillian had moved into the nursery suite with a governess, and her next words had been please and thank-you and little else in between. Mama had never returned to her petal-pink lips.
“We’ll know where to go soon,” Allie promised now, taking her daughter’s hand and giving it a squeeze. “And we can sail off to adventure.”
Gillian nodded, but her frown told Allie she wasn’t sure adventure was something to eagerly anticipate.
Catherine returned then, her rosy lips tightened in obvious disapproval.
“This is a shameful state of affairs,” she said to Maddie and Allie, where they were waiting with Gillian along one wall. “What sort of ship allows stowaways to sneak aboard?”
Stowaways? Allie immediately glanced around for Clay and spotted him leaning against the far wall, a head taller than any other man in the room. He’d been clear from the start that he wanted them to leave. Surely he’d never paid his passage. Had he caused this commotion?
Just then, the young purser raised his voice from where he stood by the doorway to the upper salon.
“May I have your attention, ladies and gentlemen?” he called, and the other voices quieted as people shifted to see him better. Allie was close enough to notice the sheen of perspiration on his brow under the brown cap.
“There seems to be some misunderstanding as to which people have paid their passage,” he said, confirming Catherine’s statement. “When I call your name, please accompany me to the upper salon, where Captain Windsor and the authorities are waiting to examine your tickets. If you do not have the appropriate ticket, you will be asked to gather your things and embark on the tug alongside us, back to New York.”
Allie felt as if the air had left the room. She pulled Gillian closer as voices rose in protest.
“See here, sir,” an older gentleman declared, pushing his way to the front. “I’ve paid for a wife and five children. I’ve spent all we had waiting for this infernal ship to sail. If you send us back, where do you suggest we go?”
“Mr. Mercer assured me no money was needed,” another woman called. “He cannot go back on his word!”
“Where’s Mr. Mercer?”
“Yes, find Mr. Mercer!”
The cry was taken up by a dozen voices.
The purser raised his hand and managed to make himself heard above the din. “Mr. Mercer is presently unavailable, but rest assured, he has been consulted on the matter.”
Allie’s stomach knotted. She had only a letter from Asa Mercer, assuring her and Gillian of places on the ship. She’d never received an actual ticket. Would the captain count her letter as sufficient evidence to allow them to stay? Was her adventure over before it had begun?
As soon as Clay heard the reason they had stopped, he knew he had to act. While the room erupted in protest, he slipped out the side door and circled around for the upper salon.
It was a more opulent room, with leather-upholstered armchairs positioned along the paneled walls for conversation and a large table running down the center for meals. Doors with brass latches and louvered windows opened onto spacious staterooms. The scent of fresh paint hung in the air.
Another table had been positioned across the top of the salon, where three men, one seated, two flanking him, waited in the brown-and-gold uniforms of the Holladay line.
Clay strode up to them and nodded to the man at the table. “Captain Windsor, sir. I’m Clayton Howard, and I’d like to report a stowaway.”
The captain eyed him. He seemed the very embodiment of the seas he sailed—gray hair, gray eyes, strong body and unyielding disposition.
“Indeed, Mr. Howard,” he intoned. “We are here to make that determination.”
“I’ll spare you the trouble,” Clay said. “I haven’t paid my passage, and I’d like to rectify that matter. Will you take gold certificates?”
Captain Windsor tilted up the cap of his office. “Certainly. But I must ask why you didn’t purchase a ticket beforehand.”
Clay couldn’t lie. “I came here intending to stop my brother’s widow from sailing. Since she is determined to make the trip, I’m coming with her.”
The officers behind the captain exchanged glances, but whether they thought him a tyrant or a fool, he couldn’t tell.
“Very well, Mr. Howard,” the captain said. “Some of the passengers who were supposed to have boarded did not make the sailing, so we should have room for you. Give your money to Mr. Debro when he arrives with our first passenger, and welcome aboard.”
Clay inclined his head. “Would you allow me to stay in the room until I’m certain my sister-in-law’s documents are sufficient?”
Captain Windsor agreed, and Clay went to sit on one of the chairs along the wall, where he could monitor the proceedings.
He thought it would be a simple matter. After all, how many stowaways could have slipped by Mr. Debro’s watchful eye? However, what he saw over the next hour disgusted him.
He knew the story of how Asa Mercer had come by the use of the S.S. Continental, which had seen service as a troop carrier in the war. The so-called emigration agent had written home to Seattle to boast of his accomplishment. None other than former general Ulysses S. Grant had allowed Ben Holladay to purchase the ship at a bargain and refit her for duty as a passenger ship so long as he agreed to carry the Mercer party to Seattle on her first run.
Mercer and Holladay had apparently settled on a price for passage, and Mercer had provided the list that Mr. Debro had used to allow passengers to board. But it was soon apparent that Mr. Debro’s list did not match Captain Windsor’s instructions from Mr. Holladay. Someone had cheated these people, but Clay couldn’t be sure whether it was Asa Mercer or the steamship company.
Everyone claimed to have paid or been told payment was unnecessary, the fare was courtesy of the fine people of Seattle. Mercer must have confessed how he’d accepted money from a number of gentlemen to bring them wives. Clay could only hope Allegra wasn’t one of the women with a husband waiting. The fellow was doomed to disappointment, for Clay still had hopes of discouraging her from settling in the wilderness. Surely over the course of their trip he could find the words to persuade her.
But the other passengers were more discouraged. Two men and their families, disappointment chiseled on every feature, had already been escorted downstairs to identify their belongings, along with a few crying women. One, Mr. Debro reported, had barricaded herself in a stateroom, refusing to leave. Others threatened retribution.
Allegra
