“I wasn’t too keen on those new owners,” Haig said. “I probably would have quit before long.”

“And why is that?” Otis asked.

“They were going to use the ship for regular coal deliveries between Baltimore and Miami. I’d die of boredom on a route like that.” Working for the Delacroixs meant importing spices from distant points all over the world, and a regular coal run would be painfully mundane for a man as colorful as Captain Haig.

Gray was glad to have someone he trusted at the helm. “I’ll get contracts for cargo lined up within the month, and I hope you and I can set sail for Madagascar by October.”

“You’re coming?” Captain Haig asked in surprise.

“I’m coming.” Gray didn’t add any details, even though Haig looked stunned. During their last trip from the Spice Islands, he’d told the old sailor about his plans to finally settle down and start a family. Haig had an instinctive love for the sea, but Gray never did.

Haig leaned back in his chair and drew on his pipe. “That’s an abrupt turnabout for a man who took his mother’s wedding ring out of the family vault only a few weeks ago.”

Gray shot a look at Otis, the only person who’d known about that withdrawal. Otis had the decency to look abashed and shrugged. “Haig caught me coming out of the bank and asked me why. I was happy for you.”

“And blabbed.”

“And I blabbed,” Otis admitted.

The last thing Gray wanted to think about was Annabelle Larkin. He needed to rehire a crew, inspect the ship, and scramble to find enough cargo to make the trip to Madagascar profitable.

“Let’s go down to inspect the hold,” Gray said as he stood and gestured to the door. Spices didn’t take up much room, so most of their freight was supplied by other firms, and he needed to be sure everything was in order.

“Everything is in good shape,” Haig said, making no move to leave the bridge. “Go find us a cargo. Anything except coal destined for Miami.”

“I need to inspect the hold first.” On her previous homeward voyage, the Pelican had carried eight thousand tons of camphor wood, and that could stink up a hold. “If the hold still smells like camphor, I need to know.”

Haig kept his booted feet up on the table, blocking the doorway. “I told you . . . everything is fine.”

The old sailor was acting oddly. He had been ever since Gray and Otis boarded the ship for an impromptu inspection an hour earlier. Gray had worked with Captain Haig for almost twenty years, and they usually clicked along like a well-oiled machine.