The boy stared at Mercy as though weighing how he might benefit from disclosing anything else. Finally he tossed the chewed-up weed to the ground. “Heard tell the ship’s departure was delayed.”

“For how long?”

He shrugged. “Do I look like I know everything?”

She expelled a breath and tried to control her mounting frustration. Fine. She’d seek out the information she needed another way. She rounded the gate and unlatched the wicket. With the constable still inside, likely engaged in making eyes with the women, there was no one to question where she was going or stop her from leaving the government complex.

She headed down the same dirt pathway she’d climbed last week when she’d come ashore. Only this time there were no ropes holding anyone back. And no hordes of men.

Gulls circled above, squawking out their displeasure at the billows of smoke rising from the twin stacks of a nearby steamship. The gangplank was still down, and two dockhands were rolling barrels up the ramp onto the main deck.

A handful of men tending boats along the wharf paused to watch her approach. As she stepped onto the planks, one doffed his hat. “Can I help you, miss?”

She paused and searched the faces of each man who lingered along the waterfront, but none belonged to the man she desperately wanted to see. “Do you know if the Tynemouth has weighed anchor yet?”

The man squinted out at the straits. “Don’t see her sails. Guessing she’s gone.”

Mercy followed his gaze and prayed he was wrong, that she’d spot the mast and rigging, that Joseph would still be within reach.

Yet she saw nothing, not even the slightest hint of a ship.

“Last transport out to the Tynemouth left early this morning,” the man added, as if the knowledge would make her feel better. Instead, it settled heavily upon her heart.

“Can we help you in any way?” He held his hat expectantly, his expression hopeful.

Mercy shook her head, her throat clogging. She swallowed hard and answered, “No matter. I thank ye anyway.”

She walked away from the wharf, but instead of returning up the path to the government buildings, her feet took her along the shore, away from the men, away from the town. She wandered aimlessly, not caring where she went or where she ended up.

Finally, she reached the edge of a clearing and could go no farther, at least not without fighting her way through the overgrown woodland. She lowered herself onto a smooth boulder that faced the bay, the vast Pacific Ocean, and Joseph.

He was gone. And with him the hope that had been swelling within her since the letter arrived.