Annie—Sadie, he corrected himself—but he didn’t want to think about her.
He opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again.
“I’ve got a job, actually, ” he said at last. “And passage to Dawson… It’s the All-Water route, the Rich Man’s route, and it’ll get me there weeks ahead of anyone heading over the Chilkoot…”
Actually, put that way, it did sound rather impressive. He thought about how he would arrive in the land of gold with his strength intact, weeks ahead of the rush of prospectors flooding over the continental divide from Dyea or Skagway.
But all his rationalizations and justifications couldn’t change the fact that, technically , he’d lost all of Eliza’s money. In one reckless, boneheaded moment. And was now working for the criminal gang that stole her money.
She looked him squarely in the eye , and smiled. “You don’t need to say anything, Jack. I believe in you. We all do.” She stepped forward and hugged him tightly.
Jack w as almost overcome with emotion as he wrapped his arms around her. But he fought it back.
“How is the Captain?” Jack asked Eliza, after a moment, pulling out of the hug.
Eliza frowned. “He’s still running a fever, but it seems to have stabilized…”
“No, I mean, how is he about all this?”
Eliza sighed. “He just wants a taste of adventure.” She shook her head sadly. “If you wrote to us, often, and your letters were really good—then maybe he’d feel like… I don’t know, like he was right there, beside you…”
“ I’ll write everyday,” Jack promised. He was filled with a sudden gratitude for everything she had done for him over the years. Then he thought of his father, and the probability that he wouldn’t ever see him again. “Look,” he said, with some difficulty, “I’d meant to say a proper goodbye to everyone, before I left. Would you—?”
“Of course, ” Eliza said, brushing a tear from her eye with the back of her hand.
They said their goodbyes and hugged one final time.
* * * * *
Merritt was waiting for Jack at the top of the gangplank.
He was weari ng another fashionably-cut suit with a matching tweed bowler hat, though of a distinctly different shade of burgundy than the day before. His moustache was freshly waxed, and he wore a cologne that smelled of jasmine.
“Your sweetheart ?” Merritt asked, looking down at Eliza, who still stood at the bottom of the gangplank.
“Sister ,” Jack said.
“Ah… ” Merritt raised one eyebrow. He doffed his hat politely for Eliza, and she nodded back, in turn. “Ready to earn your keep?” He pulled a ten-dollar bill out of his wallet, and offered it to Jack.
Indian Jack stood off to one side, leaning against a stack of crates, watching impassively, lazily holding a double-barrelled Greenfield shotgun at his side.
Can’t really blame them, Jack thought. I wouldn’t trust me either.
He remembered how fast the Indian’s hands had spun the shells around the gaming table, and vowed not to make any sudden movements. Don’t give him any reason to shoot.
“Yes sir, ” he answered. He reached out and plucked the bill from Merritt’s hand.
He wondered what job he’d been selected for. Was he to be put on guard duty? Or perhaps they wanted him as a fresh-faced con man, a bright innocent you could trust in a den of thieves, until you realized he was the crookedest of all. The truth was, he was a little worried about it. Surely he wouldn’t have been given Dr. Fiddler’s cabin for nothing.
“Please—call me Merritt. Sir makes me sound mighty old.” He twirled the ends of his moustache with his fingers, a little impatiently, then whirled around, and started walking away. “I want to show you something,” he called over his shoulder.
Jack followed Merritt through the maze of stacked supplies to a pair of waterproof doors near the stern of the ship, which were barred shut with a heavy metal rod. Merritt took a brass key chain out of his
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