“I hear you’re a ship’s surgeon,” Captain Hellyer said.

“I’ve given it a go, yes.”

“Did it suit you?”

“Well enough.”

“Enough to do it again?”

Something in the captain’s tone drew Joseph’s attention away from the field. At the hopeful glimmer in the captain’s eyes, Joseph’s blood began to pump a little faster. “What do you have in mind, Captain?”

“Lindsay and Stringer hired me to command the Tynemouth. She’s an A1, 1,500 tons, 600 horsepower.”

“Sounds as though she’s a decent size.”

The captain nodded. “She was a troopship in the Crimea. Survived a savage winter in the Black Sea when most of the other ships didn’t.”

“Then she’s a sturdy ship as well.”

“That she is. With the steam engines and her sails, she’s ready for the voyage to Vancouver Island and British Columbia.”

“Vancouver Island and British Columbia?” Joseph set his glass down on the low table near his chair and leaned forward. Gold had recently been discovered in the British colonies on the western edge of North America and was apparently drawing immigrants from nearby California and Oregon. England was scrambling to keep the colonies populated with her own people, so the gold wouldn’t trickle down into the United States but would instead profit the motherland.

Joseph didn’t need the gold, but he’d heard tales of the beauty and grandeur of British colonies in the Pacific Northwest and couldn’t deny he longed to voyage to the Western Hemisphere. With the unrest and war dividing the United States, British ships were steering clear of the conflict. As a result, Joseph hadn’t dared to hope he’d get an opportunity anytime soon to sail to North America.

Was this his chance?

The captain was watching him keenly, observing his every reaction. “First, we’ll cross the Atlantic to South America, stopping in the Falkland Islands for coal, fresh provisions, and water. Next we’ll head up the Pacific coast and dock again in San Francisco before sailing to Vancouver Island and eventually the Hawaiian Islands.”

“I’ve heard the Falkland Islands are incredible, unlike anything else.”

“Then you’ll want to see the place for yourself,” the captain said.

Joseph hadn’t realized he’d shifted to the edge of his chair and perched there as if he were ready to jump up and leave today if possible. He forced himself to scoot back, pick up his glass of brandy, and relax his shoulders. “When do you leave?”

“I’ll be loading the Tynemouth next week at the London Docks, and I’ll be embarking passengers at Dartmouth a few days after that.”

A week. He could wrap up his business here in London, travel to Wiltshire, and make it to Dartmouth in a week. That was more than enough time.