Up ahead and to port loomed the mainland, which was also covered with pines for the most part. Lights on shore gleamed through the overcast, and as the ship sailed closer Frank began to make out the shapes of buildings clustered along the coastline. As a sailor paused nearby, Frank gestured toward the settlement and asked the man, “Is that Powderkeg Bay?”
“We’re sailin’ in it,” the man said, “and that’s the name of the town, too. Rough place.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, we don’t normally stop there.” The sailor jerked a thumb at the gray, angry sky. “Like the old sayin’ goes, though, any port in a storm.”
He hurried on about his duties, leaving Frank, Meg, and Salty to watch along with the other passengers as the
Powderkeg Bay was in the lee of a small peninsula that jutted out from the mainland and formed a cove of sorts. It was a fishing community, judging by the number of small boats anchored at three docks. The thickly forested landscape rose sharply behind the settlement, looming over the town and giving it a rather gloomy aspect, as if it were trapped between those dark woods and the unforgiving sea.
Rain began to fall as the
Powderkeg Bay was a deep-water port, so the ship was able to drop anchor at one of the docks, rather than standing offshore a short distance. The captain came around to the cabins, telling the passengers that they would be staying here tonight, as a safety precaution. The storm would be gone by morning, he explained, and they would set sail again then.
He also advised them to remain in their cabins for the night, adding, “Powderkeg Bay has a rather unsavory reputation. It’s full of saloons, gambling dens, and houses of ill repute. The fishermen, loggers, and trappers who live here are a tough bunch, and there are often drunken brawls in the streets.”
Frank wasn’t too worried about getting mixed up in trouble. He had visited some of the most hell-roaring places west of the Mississippi, places like Deadwood, Dodge City, and Tombstone.
But he didn’t have any reason to leave the ship tonight, either. When Meg asked him if he was going ashore, he shook his head and said, “I never lost anything in Powderkeg Bay.” The decision was that simple to him.
But that evening as he was in his own cabin, stretched out on the bunk reading a book of stories by Stephen Crane in the light from the lamp on the wall, someone knocked on the door. Frank looked up from the book and called, “Who is it?”
“Meg.”
He frowned slightly. She didn’t make a habit of coming to his cabin, so he wondered if there was trouble.
“Come in,” he told her, and the look on her face when she opened the door and stepped into the room worried him even more. He swung his legs off the bunk and set the book aside as he asked, “What is it?”
“I can’t find Salty anywhere,” she said. “I’ve looked all over the ship for him. He’s gone, Frank.”
Chapter 2
As he stood up and moved to Meg’s side, Frank said, “I don’t hardly see how he can be gone. He’s bound to be somewhere onboard.”
Meg shook her head stubbornly. “He’s not, I tell you. I’ve looked everywhere except the crew’s quarters, and he’d have no business being there.”
“Unless he found a poker game or something like that going on,” Frank pointed out. He sat down on the bunk again and reached for his boots. “Stay here. I’ll go find him.”
“Nothing doing,” Meg said. Her firm tone left no room for argument. “I’m coming with you.”
Frank shrugged and finished pulling on his boots. He knew that arguing with a woman was usually a waste of time, breath, and energy. It wasn’t the wisdom of his years that told him that, either. He was smart enough that he had figured it out early on.
When he stood up, he hesitated, then picked up the coiled shell belt and holstered Colt from the stool where it lay next to the bunk. He didn’t figure he would need the gun, but it was better to have it with him just in case.
He had learned
He put his hat on and followed Meg out of the cabin. She started toward the stairs. They would have to go up on deck and follow it forward to reach the crew’s quarters.
One of the sailors intercepted them as they crossed the deck. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, and the wind wasn’t blowing anymore.
“Something I can do for you folks?” the sailor asked.
“Our friend is missing,” Meg said. “Mr. Stevens? Do you know him?”
“The old-timer with the beard?”
“That’s right.”
The sailor scratched his jaw and frowned in thought under his short-billed cap. “I haven’t seen him. The cap’n told everybody they ought to stay onboard the ship tonight, though.”
The mist in the air gave the lights of the settlement a blurred look. Frank heard the faint strains of music drifting through the night air from somewhere as he asked, “You don’t have a guard posted to keep folks from leaving, do you?”
The sailor shook his head. “No, sir. What the cap’n told the passengers was just a suggestion, not an order.”
