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Chapter Six
Late February 1850
No other structures were permitted within a hundred yards of the West India Docks, where crowds filled the area approaching the gate. They ogled, seeking glimpses of Alacrity, the spectacle complete with sellers walking the edges of the throng, hawking pies and ale.
Nicholas's carriage inched through the masses before crossing the brick arch bridge over the perimeter ditch and through Hibbert Gate, the secured entrance to the import docks. The valuable stores within were guarded by sentries on the walls and constables patrolling with bloodhounds. Common thievery and arson were a constant threat; fears of the French attacking ebbed and flowed over the years.
The fortress of the facility never ceased to impress Nicholas. A brick wall, twelve feet high, surrounded the massive warehouse and quay complex, encircled by a ditch, a dozen feet wide. Nine warehouses in a row, stretching almost a mile, stored massive quantities of goods such as sugar and rum, unloaded from hundreds of ships a year.
Will the Millers add premium tea to that list?
Nicholas didn’t fancy himself sentimental, but he couldn’t deny the pulse of excitement as he anticipated seeing the ship. His family’s fleet included modern steamships, undeniably faster than sail. Engine-powered vessels were the future and he marveled at them—even as he acknowledged how dirty and lacking in grace they were.
The sight ofAlacritystole his breath the instant he stepped from his carriage. Her three masts towered above any of the buildings around, let alone other ships. Making his way to her, he ignored the surrounding bustle of workers, cranes, wagons, and carts. The vessel sat low in the water compared to others, and Nicholas realized how poorly the illustration inThe Timeshad captured her design, let alone essence.
What genius and insanity!
The hull, painted a lustrous black, was surprisingly narrow, the result of daring engineering that valued speed at the sacrifice of stability or carrying capacity. The size of the masts and extent of the rigging allowed for acres of sail. In port, the sails were stowed, but Nicholas noted with amusement the ostentatious signal flags dressing the ship from bow to stern and the proud eagle figurehead.
The ship was a feat. Well-shaped, smooth, and ah…he was still thinking of the vessel, wasn’t he?
Damn.
Whatever folly had overcome him in Helen Gray’s presence yesterday had started to dissipate after she left his office, yet here he was, on the docks staring atAlacrity, thinking of her.
What tragedies had befallen Mrs. Gray and brought her to his office, reluctantly acknowledging her reduced circumstances as a widow? At times, her eyes had held tremendous sorrow, hinting at a secret pain. It was her strength in holding that suffering without being swallowed by it that had so swayed him; her resolve in refusing to bow to his questions that impressed him so.
In fact, he would wager it was Mrs. Gray behind much of the plan, including the impromptu visit to his office. Captain Miller’s outburst before steaming away had disappointed and angered Mrs. Gray, yet she showed no surprise. Until she was ready to depart on her own terms, she had remained, engaging with Nicholas without concern for her chaperone’s absence.
Or hadshebeen her brother’s chaperone?
Helen Gray had been left to handle her family’s messes before, of that he was certain. Where had Captain Miller been while she ran their father’s lumberyard and mill?
Nicholas blinked untilAlacrity, not the woman, filled his mind’s eye.It’s the ship and her captain you’re here to see, he reminded himself. This was only business.
It was imperative that he observe Elijah Miller today. If the man behaved as impetuously aboard his ship as he had yesterday, Nicholas Irons would not entrust the man with a fortune.
Yes, but Nikolaos Sideris might, his inner voice reminded.
Miller emerged out of a hatch and onto the deck.
“Permission to board, Captain Miller?”
With an easy smile and relaxed demeanor, Miller looked like a different man as he waved him aboard. He leapt onto the gangway with agility and pumped Nicholas's hand. “A tour you were promised, and a tour you shall have,” he said, leading him onto the ship.
Nicholas wondered whether Mrs. Gray was aboard but didn’t ask, and soon, the curves and lines ofAlacritybewitched him.
For his part, Captain Miller was as knowledgeable about the vessel as he was proud of her, but he wasn’t boastful. As if born to sail and to lead, he was calmer aboard a ship than on land.
Standing on the aft-most deck, Nicholas looked up at the masts, imagining them fully rigged. “How many miles do you cover in a day?”
Captain Miller leaned against the taffrail as if relaxed, but his blue eyes gleamed. “Two-fifty is what we count on. With good conditions, I’ve cruised over four hundred nautical miles in twenty-four hours.”
Utter madness!Nicholas turned around to stare out into the port. “Moored out there are sailing ships lucky to cover a hundred and fifty miles in a day. You feel safe commanding a ship so fast?”
One side of Miller’s mouth lifted. “It’s in the blood. You know who the progenitors of tea clippers were?”
Nicholas shook his head.
