“Nevertheless, gather it up before it gets wet. I don’t want you to get sick.”
She clutched the heavy fabric to her chest, but by the time he deposited her on the boat, she was filthy, with leaves sticking to her hair and dress, her hem completely soaked. She took a moment to rip off the bottom of her gown, muttering an apology for Lily for her treatment of the fine material, and then put it at the bottom of the boat.
As Leo took up the oars, she kept her eyes on the ship. It loomed over her like the Tower of London, casting a shadow on everything beneath it. The birds chirped, the waves lapped against the shore, and the trees creaked in the wind. She could smell the damp, rotten wood, and the salty sea air.
“I admit the resemblance is uncanny,” Leo said as the small craft thumped against the side of the hull. “What is it doing here?”
“Let’s board and see.” Saffron knew she was being impulsive, but the excitement of their find simmered in her blood, making her jittery.
Leo tried to dissuade her, but she could tell from the way his eyes kept darting to the side that he was as curious as her.
“Help me up.” She turned to the boat and placed her hands on the cold hull. There was no rope or ladder, but a life raft hung over the side above her head. With Leo’s hands supporting her hips, she grabbed on to a trailing rope and hauled herself onto the deck, falling into it, her hands burning from the strain.
She didn’t wait for Leo and ducked around beams holding the sails, walking to below decks, hoping to find some proof that it was the same one she had seen in Ravenmore’s painting.
The boat rocked gently as she walked, and she had to clutch at ropes to keep from falling. Leo called her name, but she couldn’t stop. Not when she was so close.
“Basil! Basil, are you here?”
She checked the first door in the hall but found nothing other than crew quarters strung up with hammocks and smelling like they needed desperately to be cleaned. Waving her hand in front of her face, she firmly closed the doors and continued. The largest door at the end of the hall was a wooden affair intricately carved with sailing imagery of waves and mermaids. She opened it and found mounds of white cloth that smelled strongly of oil.
She grasped the edge of one of the slick clothes and tugged it off.
There was no doubt. It was a Ravenmore. As she wiped the oil from her hand, she recognized Ravenmore’s distinctive style. She sorted through the paintings. All were Ravenmore’s.
Her heart sank. The ship had nothing to do with her brother. She pushed away her disappointment and focused on the significance of her discovery.
How did they get here?
She pressed her thumb into the scalloped edge of a frame. The wood was soft.
These are the originals.
Was the thief going from museum to museum, stealing artwork? If that were true, she would have heard about it in the paper. Unless, of course, the paintings had been replaced with forgeries.
She returned abovedeck and saw for the first time that black clouds loomed on the horizon.
Leo was beside the life raft, his head swiveling around, his hair loose and flying in the wind. When he spotted her, he grasped her upper arms in a gentle grip. “God, Saffron! Don’t dothat again.” He made to pull her close, but she held out her arms to stop him.
“They’re all here, Leo. All the Ravenmore paintings. Come see.” She took his hand and drew him back to the room, then stood back as he inspected the canvases. Finally, he stood, his lips thin.
“I think we’ve discovered how our thief intends to escape.”
“What do we do?” Saffron asked. They couldn’t bring all the paintings back to land, not on the dinghy, and the ship was too big to bring to shore. How long did they have before the thief returned?
We can’t do this alone.
“We need help,” Leo said, in an uncanny echo of her thoughts. He slicked back his wet hair. “The constable. The village is a short row away. We can be across and back before the thief returns, God willing.”
They returned to the deck and peered over the edge, where the dinghy floated. There was no ladder or other way to shimmy down.
“There must be a rope on this ship somewhere,” Leo said. Then he glared at her. “Promise me you will not move from this spot until I return.”
She promised, and she was still waiting, leaning against the railing, the howling wind drowning out the sound of the waves, when a clunk of heavy boots on the deck made her turn.
A tall man walked toward her, dressed in a green suit with bronze buttons and smiling with malice.
“You!” Saffron exclaimed, incredulous.
