Swept Away (The Swept Away Saga, Book One)

Chapter Forty-Five

"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."