Not today. Gray had to push Haig’s feet off the table to unblock the door, and then he headed out with Otis close behind. He ducked to navigate the steeply pitched stairs leading down to the first of two holds. The scent of camphor was still apparent, even in the passageway outside the hold.

Captain Haig finally joined them, sliding ahead of Gray in the narrow passageway. “I’ll keep airing everything out,” he said in an overly bright voice, but they both knew the problem with importing food or textiles was that they could absorb the scent of camphor, so this place needed to be sanitized. Gray couldn’t risk tainting the freight.

“You haven’t fumigated?” Otis asked.

Haig snorted. “I was preparing the ship for coal. No one cares if coal picks up a scent.”

“Get it fumigated and sanitized,” Gray said as he strode toward the starboard hold to see if it smelled as strongly.

Captain Haig hurried to slide in front of him again. “I’ll get this side cleaned as well. Let’s head back to the boiler room. I’d like to show you how we got the feedwater system set up with new brass fittings. Those things won’t ever rust—”

“I’d like to see the starboard hold,” Gray said, his suspicions deepening. The doors to the hold were closed and locked, and that wasn’t protocol. If Captain Haig was hiding something in there, he needed to know.

“No need, Gray. I’ll get it fumigated within the next twenty-four hours.”

Gray tugged on the padlock, but it was secure. “What’s behind this door?” he asked quietly, sick at the thought that Captain Haig might be disloyal. There were only so many blows a man could take, and he was reaching the limit.

“Look, I’m just storing some cargo for a friend. It doesn’t concern you.”

“It does if it’s on my ship.” It was hot down here, and a sour taste filled Gray’s mouth.

“I’ll get it off,” Haig said.

“Not before I see it with my own eyes.”

If Haig was up to something illegal, he had to be stopped. Using the Pelican for smuggling was anathema. Losing confidence in a man he considered a friend was even worse. Where was he going to find an experienced captain on such short notice?

Captain Haig folded his arms across his chest, a flinty look in his eyes. “I was doing a favor for your brother,” he said tightly.

Gray’s mind reeled. It was bad enough to use his ship for smuggling, but spying? Was the Pelican being used to transport weapons or supplies to the revolutionaries in Cuba?

“Open it,” he ordered, his voice lethally calm.