Page 21 of A Match of Misfortune (Bachelors of Blackstone’s #7)
Chapter Thirteen
N ash 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.”
Nash slung an arm around Rothsburg’s shoulder as he stepped in next to him. “Forgive me, I’ve had much going on.”
“So I’ve heard.”
Nash glanced over at him. “Have you?”
“Cecily mentioned the news briefly on our way to Almack’s two evenings ago. ”
Nash nodded, relieved the information hadn’t been from another source.
“But, Nash, I’ve also heard of it elsewhere.”
Nash stopped, facing Rothsburg. “What do you mean?”
“Rumors have spread that your ship has run aground.”
Devil take Featherbottom and his cursed eavesdropping. Nash pulled off his beaver, running a hand through his unruly hair. “Is nothing to go right for me?”
The call of a seabird from above had both men looking upward at the majestic, swooping figure when something dropped from beneath it.
Nash flinched as a glob of warm, wet liquid hit the left side of his forehead.
A second landed on his shoulder. Instinctively, he touched it, glancing down at the brown and white excrement now marring his fingers as well.
“Did a bird truly just muck on me? Right in that moment?”
Rothsburg stared at him with his mouth hanging open when suddenly, the humor lighting his eyes won out. He bent forward, slapping his thigh and letting out a hoot of laughter.
“You think this is funny?” Nash said, fully aware how ineffective his scowl was with bird droppings running down the side of his face.
Rothsburg glanced up, tears brimming in his eyes, but the sight was apparently too much and he dropped his head again, continuing in his hearty fit of laughter.
“Blasted birds.” Nash fought the desire to join him, intent on holding on to his foul mood. Several passersby glanced in their direction, the men pointing and smirking, making Nash’s choice to brood longer an easy one. Pulling out his handkerchief, he attempted to clean what he could from his face.
“Looks like someone’s in for some good luck,” one of the sailors said with a jovial smile directed at Nash.
Nash pointed at the glob of droppings still on his shoulder. “This is good luck?”
He turned around, taking a few backwards steps. “Aye. Or so they say.”
Nash shook his head, setting his attention to wiping off his shoulder, but with the soiled handkerchief, it simply smeared the mess. “Are you done yet?” he asked Rothsburg, who had just righted his posture.
“Forgive me. I don’t remember the last time I laughed that hard.” Rothsburg’s chest heaved, his face still red. “But you have to admit, the bird’s timing was impeccable.”
Nash gave up trying to wipe his shoulder and stuffed his dirtied kerchief in his pocket. It all needed laundering anyway. “Almost as though the fates want to make plain how truly against me they are.”
“For a man who has always resisted acknowledging good luck in your successes, you certainly aren’t shying away from blaming bad luck for your hardships.”
“I don’t have time for this. I need to be making connections and securing investments, not wandering around the docks attempting to verify if my ship has wrecked. And that is to say nothing of my ruinous reputation. Since the Darlingtons’ ball, I’ve not received a single invitation. Anywhere.”
Rothsburg clapped his hands together. “That is not true. You have an invitation to our house this evening to celebrate Fredrick’s return from Scotland. Your parents and the Bradshaw sisters will also be there.”
Nash dropped his head back. Cecily was the last person he wished to see right now. Likely because she could add his current failures to her ever-growing list of weaknesses. “I appreciate your including me, but I’m not?—”
“It is not an option. Unless you wish to suffer pains of death and my never forgiving you, my wife expects you to be there.” Rothsburg knocked an elbow into Nash’s. “Besides, you can sulk as easily at our house.”
Nash folded his arms across his chest and released a heavy breath, appraising his cousin. Though Rothsburg wore a smile, Nash could sense he expected him there. “I should like to see your brother again.”
Rothsburg chuckled. “Your enthusiasm is contagious.”