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“Two weeks to sail to Oak Isle,” I breathed out, feeling my stomach sink.
“If the wind is good,” Tristan added. “If we stay with the wind we had getting here, it will take a month or more.”
“But Randall has already been on his way there for weeks!”
“Aye. He’s probably already there. We lost precious time with the wind, lassie. He was in front of the storm, which would have moved him faster than normal, even. Their boat looked to be fitted with oars as well, savvy?”
“So they could row forward if the wind wasn’t working,” I replied, catching his meaning. “How long do you think he’s been there?”
“One or two weeks at the most. A month to two months by the time we arrive.”
“And do you think he’ll have found what he’s looking for by then?” Biting my lip, I glanced at him in concern as he paced the room that had been assigned to us at our meeting with the ship’s captain.
“Ye said people have looked for hundreds of years and found nothing,” he said shrugging.
“Yes, but they were focusing on the Treasure Pit,” I reminded him gently. “And they didn’t know what was down there. Randall does, which means he probably knows what markers to search for.”
“The only symbol on the island is a cross made of stones,” he said absentmindedly. “They line up with the stars. It was how we kept track of where it was.”
“The Great Stone Cross, yeah, I’ve seen it,” I said, brushing his comment to the side. “Is there anything else you can think of? Anything at all?”
“No,” he answered, sure of himself. “There’s nothing there for him to find. Unless he were to miraculously pick the right point on the island and start digging, he will never get to it without knowing where the door is.”
“Digging,” I moaned, a flash of realization coming to me. “Don’t you see? Thomas Randall is going to dig the Treasure Pit!”
The thought seemed to hit him like a cannonball and he flopped onto our bed, staring at the ceiling, dumbstruck. “How would he have known the place?” he finally asked.
“Did you tell James Abby anything about it?”
“I don’t think I did. I shared just enough for him to be able to speak with the other Templars and earn their trust in allowing him to take my spot.” Shrugging, he just stared at me, several emotions flashing back and forth across his features. “If Thomas digs this pit, then ye already know that he made it to the bottom. He’s going to take everything there is.”
“Not necessarily,” I said, holding a hand out to slow him. “There were things down there when I was in it. I couldn’t see very well, but I’m sure there was a lot of it. The vase was, we know that much for sure.”
“Aye, well let’s hope the dead body ye found is Thomas’s as well, then.” Getting on his feet, he straightened his jacket and took my hand. “Come on. I think we’ve a pretty good reason to tell the captain he needs to speed up.”
I let him lead me out of our room and into the crew quarters, where at least three times the amount of men that had made up the Adelina’s crew were resting. The rest of the men were above deck, keeping watch until we decided to leave. As we made our way up the stairs and onto the top gun deck—this ship had five decks of guns!—my mind flashed back to when we’d first come aboard and met the captain, a tall, angry looking Frenchman who went by the name Able.
“Your message was quite distressing to us, Captain,” he’d stated easily to Tristan, looking us over as if we were gum stuck on the bottom of his shoe. “We were aware of what happened in Africa, but had no idea you knew the incidents perpetrator.”
“I imagined ye wouldn’t know,” Tristan had replied smoothly. “Which is why I wrote the communication in the first place.”
Captain Able continued to stare at us, his long, white fingers folded under his chin, elbows resting on his desk. His curly black wig brushed past his shoulders onto his blue coat as he sat back, tapping his digits impatiently.
“We will leave with the tide after restocking,” he had said then. “You and your crew will be led to your quarters.”
“With all due respect, Captain, I do think we should leave earlier than a few days from now, don’t ye?”
“Oak Isle is secure.” He shrugged. “We chase simply to take care of the issue of Black Knights rising again. The treasure is in no danger.”
The room felt suffocating to me, wallpaper decorating the space in light flowers, bookshelves stacked around the room. It felt more like a home office than a space on a ship. Even the furniture was ornate and golden, matching the majesty of the vessel.
“No, no,” he continued, turning away from us. “Unless we get new orders or I receive more distressing news, we will wait to leave.”
His words rang in my head now as we made our way back to his office, my heart pounding at the thought of telling him about myself. We had no proof, not even the vase to help prove my validity. All we could do was hope I knew enough to convince him.
“Enter,” he called after our knock, and we let ourselves in, locking the door behind us. “Ah, Captain. Mrs. O’Rourke. What can I do for you?”
“I’ve brought ye yer evidence that we need to leave straight away,” Tristan explained, motioning for me to step forward.
“Whatever do you mean?” he asked, staring at the two of us.
“My name is—was—Samantha Greene.” It was a shaky start off, but simple, which was good. I didn’t know what all to tell him to make him believe me, but I didn’t want to overload him with too much at once. “I was born in nineteen ninety-two.” Pausing, I watched as his eyebrows raised, but he didn’t interrupt me. “In the year two thousand fifteen, I’ll be working on Oak Isle, trying to get to the bottom of what’s to be called The Treasure Pit. I will get to the bottom, but will open an old vase, which will send me back in time.” Stopping again, waiting for his reaction, I was surprised to see him merely cover his mouth and lean back before motioning for me to continue. “Uh.” I didn’t know what to say, having completely expected him to flip out over my story and demand that I prove it.
“I received that same vase earlier this year, with instructions to hide it with the treasure,” Tristan offered. “When Samantha saw it, she recognized it as the one from before.”
“And what is this vase, exactly?” Captain Able asked neutrally.
“Pandora’s Box?” I hadn’t meant for it to sound like a question, but his calmness was making me nervous, my palms sweating as I stood before him.
“Who told you that?”
“A priestess who drugged us with opium and channeled Zeus.” Tristan might as well have said that we picked a flyer up that told us everything we knew, the captain gave such little notice.
“I see,” he said, thoughtfully. “One moment.”
Rising from his desk, he moved to one of the bookshelves, dragging his finger across the spines as he looked them over. After a few minutes, he pulled a volume from the shelf and opened it, removing a piece of paper.
“Did it look like this?” he asked, offering me the page.
Taking it from him, I saw a sketch of the vase, perfectly drawn by the artist. “Yes!” I exclaimed. “Where did you get this?”
“My late wife drew it,” he said, smiling gently. “She told me once that she’d had a wonderful dream involving it. She was only fourteen and had discovered it in a meadow near her home. Upon opening it, she found herself among the ancient Greeks, whom she lived among for years and studied art from. Eventually, she located the vase again and returned to the very moment she’d first taken the lid off in her own time. I always assumed she had made the story up.”
“You knew someone else who did it,” I said in awe, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction in knowing that I wasn’t the only one.
“We believe that Thomas Randall is, at this very moment, digging what will become the Treasure Pit,” Tristan added calmly. “I implore ye, Captain. Let us go this very i
nstant and stop him.”
“Yes,” he mused, staring at me in interest. Then, coming out of whatever thoughts he’d been having, “yes, of course! I will tell the crew right away. We will depart as soon as every man is on board.”
“Thank you,” I said, smiling awkwardly. “I’ve been at the bottom of that pit. I know that we need to protect what’s down there.”