Page 38 of A Match of Misfortune

Cecily pulled in a breath. “What news?”

Mrs. Markham shook her head, tears filling her eyes. “His ship has wrecked.”

Chapter Thirteen

Nash weaved through the countless dockworkers, seamen, and merchants moving about the docks, the cacophonous sounds further aggravating his aching head. His return home to England was certainly going differently than he had planned. He was supposed to be fully integrated into Society by now, attending balls and soirees, chatting with influential gentlemen at the clubs, hosting gatherings at his new townhouse, and lining up investors for his next venture. Instead, he’d spent every waking moment the last few days at the East India Docks.

He had heard no other news of his ship besides the initial report from the dockworker and his conversation with a few sailors, verifying what they had seen. They spoke of serious damage, which did not bode well for him. However, there were a few inconsistencies between those accounts, and none of the smaller merchant vessels arriving had seemed to take notice of such a wreck. The knowledge allowed him to hope, if only a very small amount.

But he would not give up. He couldn’t. He had worked tirelessly for the last six years for this chance.

“Any luck regarding the ship, Markham?”

Nash glanced over his shoulder to find Johnathan Steele approaching from the direction of the docks’ offices. “No, unfortunately not. If I’m being honest, I am completely baffled. The brig that reported the wreck said they came upon the ship after traversing a particularly devastating storm. They claimed it had run aground on a rocky outcrop near the Cape Verde Islands, and that because of the extensive damage to the hull, the crew had already abandoned the ship.” Thank heavens for that. It meant the crew had survived. “But if that were true, Captain Carter would have sent word of it. Considering most of the ships arriving passed the Cape Verde Islands after the reported incident, I likely would have received it by now.”

Johnathan gave a slow nod. “Well, I have sent word out to several of my and my father’s contacts, as you requested. The moment I hear anything, you will be the first to know.” Johnathan’s focus shifted, and he lifted a hand of greeting to someone farther down the docks. “Don’t despair just yet. Things have a way of turning out, particularly for you.”

Nash was not so certain of that anymore. “Thank you for your help.”

“Of course. I’ll be in touch soon.”

With a parting nod, Johnathan made his way through the crowded docks back in the direction he’d been going.

Nash glanced around.

An East India Company commander wearing the signature woolen blue coat with golden embroidery stood next to a gangplank overseeing cargo being unloaded by the crew. Nash couldn’t remember having spoken to him before, but with dozens of ships coming and going at any given time, he also couldn’t be sure. “I assume you passed near the Cape Verde Islands on your voyage up the African coast?” Nash asked, stopping to speak with him.

The man looked up from the logbook in his hands, no hint of recognition in his expression. “We did not stop at Porto Praya, but we passed near enough the islands. Thankfully, in half-decent weather.”

“Might I inquire when you passed the islands?”

“April eighteenth, I believe.”

Three days after the reported incident. “Did you see the wreckage of an Indiaman ship? Or hear about one at any of the following ports?”

The man shook his head. “No. A smaller merchant ship ran ashore near The Cape, but that’s the only wreckage we came across on our voyage. What was the name of the Indiaman?”

“The Dawn of India.”

He shook his head as if the name was not familiar. “Do you know when it set sail?”

“It departed Madras on January second.”

“We departed from Madras mid-December, and though we took an extra few days at Cape Cross, I’d be surprised it would have reached the Cape Verde Islands before us. We made decent time.”

A slight flicker of hope ignited in Nash. This ship had set out over two weeks before his ship, and yet it had passed the islands after the reported wreck. Granted, the extra days it had taken at port and the different wind conditions could account for the disparity, but if so, it would mean the Dawn of India would have been on course to make the voyage in just over four months. That was excessively quick for a twelve-hundred-ton Indiaman, though not impossible.

“You’ve been most helpful,” Nash said, giving a nod of gratitude to the commander. “Thank you for speaking with me.”

“Of course.” The man returned his attention to his logbook.

Nash started along the docks again, trying not to put too much stock into the conversation. He certainly recognized that he had little information to go on, none of which was substantiated, yet it was the first bit of nearly favorable news he’d received.

“Nash!” It was Rothsburg’s voice coming from somewhere nearby, and Nash scanned the faces on the dock until he located him.

“Cousin! What the devil are you doing here?”

Rothsburg sent him a pointed look. “It seems a visit to the docks is the only way to get an audience with you these days.”