by Evelyn James
“Once again, thank you for all your help Miss Fitzgerald,” Captain Pevsner spoke. He had a wane smile on his face. “I know you have done everything in your power. I believe we know who killed Henry Kemp, but we shall never be able to prove it.”
“Never is a strong word,” Clara said, though she could not master her usual conviction. “I still hope to prove my case. Please keep the shirt safe.”
Captain Pevsner picked up the safe key. After a moment, where he looked at the key thoughtfully, he gave it to Clara.
“There is only one key,” he told her, “you take care of it.”
Clara was touched by the gesture, both one of trust and of deference. She took the key and thanked him, before slipping it into the small handbag, no more than a purse on a chain, that she had brought with her that evening.
“Now, both of you return to the party,” Captain Pevsner instructed. “Tomorrow I shall send word out to the police of what has happened and they can meet us in the harbour. Until then, go and enjoy yourselves.”
Captain O’Harris caught Clara’s eye, then he held out his arm. She smiled as she slipped her arm through the crook of his. Saying polite ‘good evenings’ to Pevsner, they left the cabin and went back onto the sun deck.
“I’m cold,” Clara remarked at once.
The evening had grown dark and snow drifted in light flakes about the ship. It was too little to lay, at least for the moment. The crew had started to serve hot totties to the guests, along with hot chocolate, tea and coffee. O’Harris fetched two warm drinks for himself and Clara and they wrapped their hands around them, seeping the warmth of the liquid into their bodies. The band looked weary, their fingers cold and stiff. They were being offered hot drinks too. Their breath was coming out in clouds.
“Time for some livelier numbers!” The band leader announced. His musicians did not look impressed, but obeyed nonetheless.
“Care to dance?” O’Harris asked Clara.
“I’ll probably step on your toes my feet are so cold!”
“I’ll survive,” O’Harris laughed.
Depositing their drinks on a nearby table he escorted Clara onto the middle of the sun deck and, as a fast-paced tune began to be played, they picked up the rhythm and started to dance. Clara found her laughter returning. Being with Captain O’Harris always made her smile. His arm around her and the warmth of his body as they danced filled her with delight. His eyes shone with pleasure and energy; this was the old O’Harris, the one that had vanished for a short time, but who was now returning. Clara could not help but feel happy. A part of her was insulted by the emotion, reminding her that down below a man lay dead. But she could not change what happened to Henry Kemp and moping about, spoiling her evening with Captain O’Harris, would neither solve the case faster or bring Kemp back to life.
They danced in big sweeping circles. Clara lost track of everything; blissful oblivion enveloped her and she was glad for it. When the music suddenly ended and they came to a halt to clap the musicians, she found herself near the rail, not far away from Miss Dodd. Clara met the woman’s eyes without meaning to. Miss Dodd looked sad. Her eyes quietly rebuked Clara for disregarding her duty so she could dance. Clara’s happiness was tempered. She looked away, feeling Miss Dodd’s silent accusation following her.
“Well, I am lot warmer now!” O’Harris remarked, not noticing the woman.
He tracked down their drinks and handed one to Clara.
“Have you seen the time, a quarter to midnight!” O’Harris showed Clara his wristwatch which was marking down the final minutes of 1921. “I am looking forward to 1922, Clara.”
Clara had been distracted by Miss Dodd, now she brought her full attention back onto O’Harris.
“I plan on making it a very good year,” Clara agreed with him. “Now I have you back, I intend to make the most of it.”
She reached out for his hand. O’Harris squeezed her fingers.
“And the plans for transforming the old hall into a convalescence home for veterans of the war are going well. The winter has interrupted work, but it shan’t be long before the place is ready. I hope to receive my first guests in the late spring.”
Captain O’Harris had witnessed first-hand the limited care that was generally offered to men suffering from psychological problems caused by the traumas of war. In response, and looking for something new to do with his life rather than flying aeroplanes, he had decided to turn the great mansion he had inherited into a place of peace and restoration for those who had served in the war. His plans were in full swing and he was in the process of securing local patrons and supporters to ensure its success. He was excited about the future; a far cry from the man who had first returned to Brighton.
Clara was distracted by the arrival on deck of Captain Pevsner. He did not look as jolly as the evening should have decreed. He seemed to hunch a fraction and his smile had the appearance of being a touch forced. His guests, if they noticed at all, would probably blame his reticence on the quietly whispered rumour that this was the Mary Jane’s last voyage. Only the Noble party and the crew knew the shadow hanging over him was due to the murder that had taken place on his ship.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” Captain Pevsner began as he stood before the bandstand. “I want to thank you all for coming on this very special evening. Over the years I have conducted many New Year’s Eve parties at sea, each has been special, but tonight is more so than all those others. Tonight the Mary Jane says her own farewell to the waves. She has seen times of peace and times of war, she has served her country valiantly and defied the enemy who would have gladly put a torpedo in her bows. Now it is time for the old girl to rest.
“Ship’s captains are born to the water and don’t retire well to the land, but as I say goodbye to 1921, I must face 1922 as a landlubber. The Mary Jane has been my home, my workhorse and my friend these last forty-odd years. I’ll miss her. I’ll miss her creaks and groans, her rumbling engine and her rattling pipes. I’ll miss her quirks, as much as I will miss her charms. I will also miss my crew who have served me and Mary Jane loyally. Some have been with me for decades, others only a matter of months, but all of them are fine, fine men, who I wish the very best for the future. Could I politely impose on my guests to offer a round of applause for my good crew who have made tonight, and all the nights aboard Mary Jane possible?”
The guests obediently applauded the crew. The clapping was fairly vigorous, encouraged by the copious amounts of champagne everyone had drunk.
“Thank you!” Captain Pevsner smiled at his audience and some of his gloom lifted. “I would also like to ask for a toast to the old gal who has made this evening possible. Please, raise your glasses to Mary Jane, who has carried her many passengers safely all these years and has not let me down.”
Glasses were raised and there were a few cheers from those already quite drunk. Pevsner smiled, then he removed a pocket watch from his jacket and checked the time.
“My friends, it is one minute to midnight, please, assist me to count down the last moments of 1921!”
Together the guests began a sixty second countdown. Clara glanced at her own watch and smiled; Captain Pevsner’s little speech had gone on too long, the time was really a minute past midnight, but no one else had noticed and the countdown revved up the crowd. As the final ten seconds was reached, voices raised higher and there were giggles of excitement. O’Harris was already counting, Clara joined in. She had forgotten all about Miss Dodd.
“Four! Three! Two! One!” Captain Pevsner took a dramatic step away from the band and waved his arm at them like he was a compere at the music hall. The band obeyed and instantly started to play ‘Old Lang Syne’. People started to sing – it was out of tune and many did not know the words, but they sang. They crossed their arms and took the hands of those nearby, shaking them up and down as heartily as they could. Clara and O’Harris found themselves swept up into a small group of enthusiastic singers, grabbing hands and shaking them as hard as they co
uld. Clara was struggling to sing as she was laughing so loud. She glanced at O’Harris and was delighted to see he was in stitches too, his face red with intoxicating merriment.
The music came to its climax, everyone threw up their arms in the air and cheered.
“Happy New Year!”
More champagne was handed around. The crew were hastening to refill peoples’ glasses. Toasts were being shouted out over random things, just for the sake of it all. O’Harris collected two champagne flutes from a passing waiter with a tray and handed one to Clara.
“A toast to the future, of which I am now certain I have one,” he said.
Clara gladly raised her glass to that.
“And a toast to old friends rediscovered,” she responded.
They tapped their glasses together, making a pleasant clinking sound.
“I hope we have many more years together to enjoy our friendship,” O’Harris had a glint in his eye as he took a sip of champagne. “Oh, gosh! This stuff doesn’t improve the more you drink it!”
Clara laughed loudly and then felt a bit embarrassed. It was not like her to be so carefree, but the party atmosphere had become infectious. From behind her, Clara became aware of a noise, as if a commotion was occurring, but she was so busy with toasts and laughing with O’Harris that the sound failed to register at first. Then there was a cry; not a cry of delight or excitement, but a cry of almost surprise. Clara started to turn her head, though she was still really paying little attention.
“A toast to you,” a drunk man stumbled over to Clara and O’Harris and presented his champagne flute. “And to me and to us, oh, and to them over there.”
He wobbled away to another group of people before they had a chance to clink his glass. Clara was just starting to laugh when she heard a splash. The noise startled her enough to make her jump and turn in the direction of the starboard rail. O’Harris turned too. No one else seemed to be taking heed, until Clara caught sight of Charles Walsh by the rail. He was looking around him, his voice raised in horror.
“Help! By God, help!” He cried to the crowd. “She has jumped overboard!”
Chapter Seventeen
“Who is it? Who went overboard?” Clara ran to the rail where Charles Walsh stood.
She was not alone, a number of people, most just drunken gawkers had reacted to the splash and Walsh’s cry for help. They were hovering by the rail, gazing over into the sea below without offering any assistance. Clara pushed through them, Captain O’Harris just behind her. Captain Pevsner arrived moments later.
“It’s Miss Dodd!” Charles Walsh declared breathlessly. “She just… tipped over!”
“Bring me a light!” Captain Pevsner called to one of his crew.
They all looked at the dark water, the wavelets lapping lightly at the side of the Mary Jane. They seemed like some sort of tar rather than ocean water. They looked hard and rigid, capable of sucking a person beneath them, never to return them. Clara felt uneasy, the calm sea seemed all the more sinister for its placidity.
A crewman handed Captain Pevsner a big electric lantern. It was like the big bulls’ eye lanterns that used to contain oil or a candle, but this one was modern. When he switched it on it cast a large beam of light across the water. He shone it steadily back and forth, looking for Miss Dodd.
The water seemed to have utterly absorbed her. There was no sign in the inky black of the night. Clara bit her lower lip, a sensation of dread sweeping over her.
“There!” Charles Walsh shot out an arm and pointed to a spot that seemed far too distant from the ship to possibly contain Miss Dodd.
The location was just outside the sweep of Captain Pevsner’s beam of light, a snatch of movement had attracted Walsh’s eye. Pevsner now raised the lantern and Miss Dodd appeared in the beam. Her head was just above the water and her arms were outstretched, but she did not appear to be making a great deal of effort to stay afloat.
“She won’t last long out there,” Captain Pevsner said, mostly under his breath, but Clara heard him and knew what he meant.
The ocean was freezing this time of year and a person could die of cold before they ever drowned. Miss Dodd was in evening wear, not designed to protect her from the wintry temperatures and certainly not icy water.
“Lower a lifeboat!” Captain Pevsner called out again, then he grabbed a round lifebelt from the rail. He made sure it was attached to a sturdy long cord, then prepared to throw it. “Please stand clear!”
Not everyone at once moved, too intoxicated or tired to react immediately. Clara and O’Harris shuffled them back, freeing up space for Captain Pevsner to swing back his arm and hurl the lifebelt in the direction of Miss Dodd. It was an impressive toss, Pevsner put his all into it, but it still landed several feet too short.
“Swim to the lifebelt!” Captain Pevsner cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted.
Miss Dodd did not move.
“It’s the cold, it’s numbed her,” Captain Pevsner declared, then he turned and shouted. “Is that lifeboat ready?”
“Yes Captain!” A voice called back.
Pevsner began to head for the lifeboat.
“Can I be of any help?” O’Harris asked.
Pevsner smiled at him.
“My men have all done this before and I would not be a good captain to put another of my guests needlessly in danger. But, thank you.”
He hurried away. Clara did not watch him leave, her eyes were on Jane Dodd. The lantern had been left perched on the rail, it had a clamp on the bottom to enable it to be fixed in place. It now operated as a beacon for the rescuers. Clara winced as the light glimmered on the water and highlighted the shoulders and head of Miss Dodd. It was hard to say if she was conscious; she did not seem to be moving a great deal. Might she already have succumbed to the cold?
“What is going on?” Arthur Noble had finally managed to wobble towards the rail to investigate matters.
He was stuffed full of food and more than a few glasses of champagne. He looked slightly pained, as if even a man of his proportions could over-indulge. He pushed aside a guest or two who were blocking his path to the rail. Just behind him were his sons. Simon looked as foul-tempered as always, Elias bore a worried expression.
“Miss Dodd has gone overboard!” Charles Walsh repeated in the same tone of horror he had cried out in before. He seemed utterly shocked by the experience, and unable to comprehend what had happened.
“Miss Dodd?” Arthur Noble pushed his way to the rail and looked across the water. “By my grandfather’s soul, is that her out there?”
He lifted a flabby hand and pointed out to sea.
“Yes,” Charles Walsh said mournfully. “She doesn’t seem to be trying to swim.”
A splash to their left informed them that the lifeboat had finally been lowered into the water and the rescuers were on their way. Oars smacked the water and Pevsner was calling out directions as his men rowed as hard as they could.
“How did she end up all the way out there?” Arthur Noble was still somewhat dazed by the situation, not helped by all the cheap champagne. He was not a man who grasped things quickly at the best of times.
“I imagine it is the current,” O’Harris volunteered. “It will have dragged her away from the ship.”
“Well, why did you let her fall in Charles?” Arthur Noble turned on his employee now. “What a damn foolish thing to do.”
“I didn’t let her fall in,” Charles replied, utterly appalled by the criticism. “She was stood at the rail as we all toasted in the New Year. She gave a sort of groan, I looked over when I heard it. I asked if she was all right and she looked at me so very sadly. Then she just seemed to step backwards into the rail and toppled over.”
“Damn stupid!” Arthur Noble blustered. “She’ll catch her death and be off work for weeks!”
Noble did not appear to notice the contradiction in his statement. Clara was not in the mood to point it out to him. His belligerence in the face of what was fast shap
ing into a tragedy was beginning to try her patience. He was the sort of man who saw human disasters only in terms of how they affected him.
The lifeboat was covering the water quickly, Pevsner was calling for his team of rowers to ease their rate, so as to not make huge waves near Miss Dodd and drown her. He was near enough to the lifebelt to reach out and drag it to him with a boat hook. He tossed it right next to Miss Dodd.
“Dear lady, take hold!”
It was a relief to see Miss Dodd move her arm and rest her hand on the lifebelt.
“She is still alive!” Charles Walsh cried out.
“Silly woman,” Arthur Noble puttered. “I don’t need to lose two employees in one night. What is Pevsner doing? Why not haul her in?”
Pevsner was having the lifeboat drawn as close to Miss Dodd as was possible, taking it slowly and carefully so he did not duck the woman beneath the waves.
“Haul her in!” Arthur Noble crowed from the ship’s rail.
“She barely has a hold on that lifebelt, she won’t be able to cling to it if he tries to pull her in,” O’Harris managed to keep his voice reasonable as he informed Arthur Noble of that fact.
Arthur Noble snorted, and now he roared out.
“Miss Dodd! Show willing! You are making such a spectacle of yourself!”
“You pompous, idiotic fool!” Charles Walsh was the first to lose his temper with Arthur Noble, but there were plenty of others not far behind him, including Clara and O’Harris.
“Have some compassion!” Clara barked at him.
Captain O’Harris was more practical in demonstrating his outrage. He grabbed Arthur Noble by his jacket and hauled him away from the rail. Noble was too startled to object and his sons politely moved out of O’Harris’ way – though Clara thought it too generous to imagine they were also offended by their father’s actions. O’Harris dragged Noble to a chair by the buffet table where he deposited him with a thud. Noble started to rise, but O’Harris placed a hand on his shoulder and pressed him back into his chair.
