Ghost Messages
neither.
    “What’s the problem, Mr. Dalton?”
    Ailish turned to see the tall figure of Cyrus Field striding through the torrential downpour. “Mr. Field! Thank goodness.” She rushed to his side. “Sir… Paddy freed a wrench that had fallen into the wheels and now Mr. Dalton is accusing him of attempting to wreck the automatic release mechanism!”
    “The Irishman’s up to no good, sir.” The crew chief interrupted. “We found him doing his best to sabotage the cable in the hopes the storm would hide his tampering.”
    Ailish looked at Dalton in surprise. He was fast on his feet, that was sure.
    The soft-spoken gentleman looked about the rain-washed deck and saw the wrench and the broken oar. “Did anyone actually see Mr. Whelan attempting to destroy the machine?”
    Dalton didn’t answer.
    “Then did anyone see him trying to save the machine?” Cyrus Field asked.
    “Yes sir. I did.” Ailish spoke up as she shot Dalton a meaningful glare. “Paddy is not the one at fault here.”
    “You’re not going to take a stowaway Irish brat’s word are you, Mr. Field?” Dalton asked in his gravelly voice. “I’ll wager my rum ration they’re in this together.”
    “In America, Mr. Dalton, a man is innocent until proven guilty. I see no reason to dispute Mr. O’Connor’s word. It appears some inept sailor left the wrench where it could wreak havoc. I think we narrowly averted a disaster here this evening.” Mr. Field turned and walked away into the rainy night.
    Dalton jabbed Paddy with his finger. “That does it, Whelan. You signed your own death warrant.” Then he and his men strode back down Oxford Street.
    Ailish feared he meant what he’d said and Paddy’s life was now in real danger.

11
    Fenians Aboard!
    .-- …. .- - .. … - …. . .-.. .- -- -… … -. .- -- .
    Saturday morning arrived with a cloudless sky and air that smelled washed and clean. Ailish had decided to steer clear of Mr. Dalton for as long as possible and was busy playing with Dimples and her new lamb when Paddy walked up, swinging a basket brimming with freshly baked buns.
    “I’m supposed to be working in the cable tank today, but since I’m injured from last night’s adventure,” he showed her his bandaged arm, “I asked Dalton if I could work up on deck instead. He wasn’t going to let me, but Mr. Field was there, saw my wounds, and suggested that would be prudent. I thought Dalton was going to choke he was so angry, so I decided I’d best leave.”
    Paddy’s face became serious. “I wanted to say thank you for what you did last night, O’Connor. I’m not used to anyone sticking up for me.” He handed her the basket. “These are for your pet.”
    Ailish beamed. “Dimples, say thank you.”
    “Baaaa,” the ewe obediently replied.
    “You too, Rainbow.”
    The lamb gave a small bleat.
    She fed two of the warm buns to the polite ewe, and then stroked Rainbow’s velvet ears. “I said nothing but the truth, and anyway, it’s me who should be thanking you. You saved my life.”
    Paddy folded his arms. “I might not have made it in time if you hadn’t written me that note.”
    Ailish shook her head. “That wasn’t me. Davy must have left it and then gone in search of more help, but I haven’t been to the machinery hold today to ask him about it. Charlie’s probably got him working again. He’s an amazing fellow.” She didn’t care anymore how obstinate and frustrating Davy could be; she trusted him and wanted their friendship to continue.
    “I didn’t think there was anyone down there slaving except swabbies like me.” Paddy smiled. “I’m glad I could be of service. I’d say we make a fine pair.”
    Ailish hugged the tiny sheep. “Isn’t Rainbow beautiful?” She said, not expecting an answer. “His fleece is so soft. I can already see him running and doing little sheepy things in a sunny meadow in Newfoundland.”
    Paddy looked from the lamb to Ailish. “O’Connor, you do know why these

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