To show them who was the boss.
Chapter Fourteen
The scent of freshly baked cinnamon biscuits filled the cramped galley kitchen in the Empress Catherine. Poppy worked on the ledgers while the cookies cooled on the tray next to the oven. She was the queen of doing more than one thing at a time.
Her original intention had been to take the books of account back to the warehouse, but by the time she had returned from the grocers, replacement eggs in hand, it was getting late in the afternoon. She had promised to deliver the biscuits to the clerk at the superintendent’s office, and Poppy Basden was a woman who never went back on her word.
By warning her about Francis, the man had done her a great service. One should never underestimate the value of having people looking out for them. Especially in a city where she barely knew a soul.
If she had to work late into the night, so be it—she would get all her tasks completed. Poppy rarely went to bed without having everything done.
She set her pen back into the holder and rose from her chair. “Those biscuits should be cool enough by now.”
After collecting two small clean dishcloths, she wrapped half the biscuits in each, then set them on top of her closed ledger. The delicious cinnamon goodies would be coming back to the warehouse with her. She wasn’t going to risk leaving any food onboard for the crew of the Empress Catherine to gorge themselves on when they returned to the boat later in the evening. They could fend for themselves. Tomorrow she would officially retire from being the captain and the men would be paid out for their articled services, after which they would be free to sign up with any other ships who were looking for crew.
With ledgers and biscuits in hand, Poppy made her way up to the deck. She stopped for a moment, taking in the view. The sails were tightly lashed away. It was still hard to imagine that the Empress Catherine had sailed her last great ocean voyage under Poppy’s command.
Perhaps I will take her up the coast for one final time. Give the girl a proper farewell.
Poppy’s gaze landed on the Holland covers she had brought over from the warehouse, and she made a mental note to come back and gather them up before it got dark.
“I wonder where Jonathan is,” she mused.
With the first consignment of cinnamon bales scheduled to start leaving the warehouse over the next few days, Poppy had to make sure she got all the paperwork ready. Invoices needed to be prepared and left waiting for the merchants who were purchasing the spices. That was her job. Managing the cargo was meant to be Jonathan’s role.
I might have to hire some other hands to do the work if he decides to stay away.
The familiar sound of a heavy object being dragged over stone had her looking from the ship to the shore.
“Oh, no. Not again.”
On the roadway across from the wharf, several dock workers were busy hauling the barrels from next door and dumping them in front of her warehouse. Her hopes for Francis Saunders to have set his childish games aside were dashed.
This is ridiculous. Who does he think he is?
Putting a finger either side of her mouth, Poppy let out a shrill whistle. The men all stopped at once. Their heads turned back and forth as they searched for the source of the noise. As she climbed up on the gangplank, she let out another warning signal.
Closing in on where the men stood, Poppy pointed at the barrels. “I don’t care who you are or who you work for, but if those barrels are not removed from my property in the next two minutes, I shall summon the port authority and they will deal with you.”
The men exchanged a worried look, then approached her. “We were given instructions to move the barrels and ropes to your door,” one of them said.
“Who gave you those instructions?” she demanded.
She knew full well who was behind it, but it always paid to have such pertinent facts confirmed.
“The Saunders Shipping Company. They said this spot is their property,” replied the nearest man. Putting his hand into his jacket pocket, he produced a folded-up note. Taking a tentative step toward her, he gingerly offered Poppy the paper.
* * *
The Saunders Shipping Company has made a claim of adverse possession over the front of warehouse number fourteen, North Quay, London Docks. As such, the area marked from the boundary of warehouse number twelve to the end of building two is under its control.
F. Saunders, Esq
Saunders Shipping Company.
* * *
Poppy’s blood shot to boiling point as she took in the contents of the letter. This was beyond the pale. How dare he attempt to stake a claim over her property.
