The Haunting of the Oceania
by Dee Garretson
Content copyright Dee Garretson. All rights reserved
Published in the United States
First Publishing Date: November, 2011
http://deegarretsonvictorianmysteries.com
The Haunting of the Oceania
The crying noise of the wind whistling through the rigging had awoken Reese again, this time just as the sky showed signs of throwing off the dark. Reese didn’t believe in the rumors swirling about the ship, the rumors that the thin plaintive keening came from the ghosts of a family who died aboard. He had been on countless ocean voyages, and he knew it was nothing beyond the volatile weather that plagued the rough North Atlantic crossing. It didn’t help that the ship creaked with every motion, betraying its age, almost too old to be seaworthy. Reese wished he could have convinced his great-aunt Tatiana to take one of the new luxury steamliners, for her own comfort and his peace of mind.
The knowledge it was just the normal ship sounds didn’t help him go back to sleep. The stuffy air of the cabin pushed him to dress and go out onto the deck, where a steward were already drying off the chairs, though it was so cold Reese couldn’t imagine too many of his fellow passengers would venture into the air come daylight. The wailing was softer now, more like the moaning night winds in the mountains of Afghanistan, where the hill people believed the sounds came from the jinnd, the spirits who roamed the shadows. Reese moved up the deck, trying to identify where the sound originated. He couldn’t tell; the winds made it seem as if the wailing was coming in all directions.
From behind him, the steward’s voice said, “Get out of here, you filthy creature!”
Startled, Reese nearly slipped on the dampness of the deck as he turned around to see who had upset the steward. He would never have guessed it was a tiny Capuchin monkey balanced on top of one the chairs. He had heard there was a monkey on board, but hadn’t yet seen it himself, only hearing accounts of its behavior. The monkey wore a red fez and a bright green vest and looked so out of place on a ship, it made Reese want to laugh.
“Shoo!” The steward waved his hand at the monkey, who opened its mouth and bared its teeth in response. “Sorry, sir,” the steward said to Reese. “It just surprised me. I don’t like it when passengers bring animals aboard. The Duchess should have her girl watch him better. The other passengers are scared of it when it appears out of nowhere.”
The monkey jumped down onto the seat of the chair, shifting something from one paw to the other. It held the object up as if it wanted to show it to them and then clutched the item to its chest.
“Here now, you nuisance, what do you have?” The steward made a grab for the monkey, but it darted toward Reese before the man could reach it. The monkey leaped up and landed on the railing inches from Reese, tottering a bit before it regained its balance. It held out its paw and offered what appeared to be two small white sticks tied together with a bit of twine.
Reese took them, not knowing what else to do. Once he could see them better, he realized they weren’t sticks at all; they were bones, light and small like those from a bird.
“Extraordinary,” he said, holding them up to examine them more closely. The bones were clean and dry, a complicated knot tied securely around them. He had seen many things in his travels with his father, but never something exactly like this. It was primitive, but made with care, like an amulet or charm. He wasn’t sure what the monkey wanted him to do with the item, though the creature was looking at him expectantly.
Before Reese could decide, the steward made a strangled sound in his throat and then snatched the object out of Reese’s hand, throwing it overboard. “Sorry sir. Just a bit of rubbish. He’s a right little thief from what I’ve heard.”
Incensed, the monkey screeched and then leaped at the man. Reese reached out without thinking, catching the little creature in midair. The monkey struggled to escape, hissing and shrieking, and Reese hoped it wouldn’t bite him. He was saved when a servant girl rushed out onto the deck.
“You naughty boy! Get inside immediately! Where have you been? I’ve been searching everywhere for you,” she scolded as she took it from his arms. Reese was surprised when the monkey actually hung its head as if it understood her words.
“I’m sorry, sir,” the girl said. “He is a bad, bad monkey, always wanting to go where he shouldn’t.”
“It’s quite all right, Miss.” The girl looked up at him and blushed deep red. She opened, then closed her mouth and ran back inside. Reese intended to ask the steward more about the bones, but the man had moved up the deck to dry more deck chairs, scrubbing at them furiously as if he were trying to rub the varnish off of them.
As Reese looked down on the lower deck, he saw a young woman at the rail near the bow. He had seen her before, of course. The black of her mourning wardrobe set her apart from the other passengers, who seemed determined to treat the ship on the New York to England line as one continuous celebration. She appeared on deck, and occasionally in the dining room. She spoke to no one except the staff and her companion. Reese had already decided the man, no, the boy, with her could not be her husband. He was too young, and he barely seemed to pay attention to her. Even though they didn’t resemble each other much, Reese thought the boy was most likely her brother. The girl glanced up in his direction, and Reese noticed the paleness of her face. Her dark hair gleamed even in the weak light of the rising sun.
A faint glow in the water beyond her caught his eye. There was a light right beneath the surface, moving along with the ship, wavering like a lit candle under the water. That didn’t make sense, Reese thought. He leaned over, trying to see exactly what it was. It was a light, but he couldn’t understand how it came to be there. Thinking it could be a reflection from someone holding a candle up to a porthole on a lower deck, Reese watched it for a few more moments. Yes, it was probably someone trying to find something in a darkened cabin. Just as he was satisfied he had come to the right conclusion, the light dashed back toward the stern and then returned. Not possible, he told himself.
A man’s scream shocked him out of his observation of the light. He looked down at the girl again, just in time to see a man in a dark suit run toward her and then stop, screaming more loudly. The steward cleaning the deck chairs came over and joined him, “What’s happening?” he said.
Reese realized the screaming man was his own valet, John Markham. He was about to shout down to him, but before he could, the valet took a step back, holding up his arms as if to ward the girl off, and then he ran to the opposite railing, climbing up and over it. Reese let out a yell, but it was too late. Markham let go off the railing and disappeared over the side. There was a splash and then nothing.
“Heaven help us!” the steward said as he ran to the stairs and headed down them.
Someone called, “Man overboard! Man overboard!”
The words forced Reese into motion, and he vaulted after the steward, shaking off his coat. When he reached the lower deck, he pulled off his boots, trying to spot a figure in the water through the dimness of the early morning light. Reese thought he saw a black shape, but with the waves breaking raggedly in the strong wind, they churning the white-capped foam and dark water into such a distorted jumble he couldn‘t be sure.
As he started to climb over the railing a sailor grabbed his arm. “Sir, what are you doing?”
“What do you think I‘m doing? There‘s not much time.” Before he could free himself, the first officer appeared and took hold of his other arm.
“Mr. Tretheway, pray do not even think of getting in that water. Let the crew try to do their jobs.” The man gestured toward another, more junior officer, who had start
ed to direct a group of sailors clustered around a lifeboat. The ship began a wide turn back. “We can not let you risk your life, sir. Besides, I fear it may be too late already.” The first officer raised his spyglass and then lowered it, shaking his head.
As the ship angled back the waves caught it broadside and hammered the hull. The ship tilted and rolled so much Reese had to grab hold of the rail to stay upright, the spray sending a salty mist over him, stinging his eyes and his mouth. The lifeboat lurched sideways as it was lowered, the two sailors in it clinging to the edges. Reese realized his presence was nothing more than a hindrance to the crew, only another wealthy passenger demanding attention in the midst of a crisis. He made his way back to the upper deck, picking up his discarded coat on the stairs, trying to tamp down his anger at his inability to do anything. Why had Markham done such a thing?
“Reese!” As he reached the top of the stairs he saw his great-aunt, Tatiana, struggling with the door to the outside deck. She was wrapped up against the cold in a sealskin coat, her hat pinned on crookedly as usual. Fluffy white hair had already escaped from its pins, looking like a new lamb’s first wool. A gust of cold wind tried to wrench the door from her hand and she tottered. Reese hurried over and slammed it shut behind her, taking hold of her arm so she wouldn’t fall.
“I heard a man screaming. What happened?” she asked, her voice trembling.
He had to tell her. She’d find out soon enough. “Markham jumped off the ship,” he said, tightening his grip on her arm. “They are turning the ship around to look for him.”
She closed her eyes and swayed, and he feared she would faint. After a moment, though, she straightened up and took a deep breath. “Why?” she asked plaintively.
Reese contemplating what would drive someone to choose such an icy death. He didn’t want to think about how Markham had felt hitting that cold water. “I don’t know. He’s been very agitated the last few days. I asked him if anything was wrong, but he said no.”
The image of the valet’s white face the day before came into his head. The man had been perspiring as if he were in the tropics. “Yesterday he spilled the tea on some of my maps, and I thought it was a touch of seasickness,” Reese said, feeling guilty he hadn’t inquired further. He barely knew the man, but he should have inquired further. The valet’s hands had been so shaky, Reese had told the man he would shave himself. He never liked anyone else bringing a razor close to him in the first place, and he didn’t fancy the idea of appearing at breakfast with a large slash in his throat.
“Was it drink? I smelled that vile American bourbon on him most of the time,” Aunt Tat said. “Though one should not blame him entirely for what is most likely an unfortunate upbringing,” she added charitably.
“I don’t know.” Reese wished now he hadn’t given in to Aunt Tat’s insistence he bring a valet. He wasn’t used to one and didn’t need one, but Tatiana thought he would be useful to handle all her baggage and run errands. Tatiana had wanted him to bring his father’s longtime valet, but Reese had refused, thinking the trip to America would be too much for the elderly Craton, who had aged noticeably since the death of Reese’s father. Markham had been the compromise.
“Will they be able to find him?” Tatiana asked.
Reese scanned the sea but knew it was hopeless. “I don’t think so, but they have to try anyway. I doubt if any man could survive more than a few minutes in such frigid water even if he could swim.” They watched the sailors in the lifeboat as they fought to gain control. The waves threatened to swamp it and one man yelled back to the ship, but Reese too far away to make out the words.
It appeared the sailors had given up the idea of a rescue. The lifeboat returned to the ship, and the sailors on deck winched it back up on the bottom deck and began to lash it down. The captain appeared next to them and waved his hands around purposefully.
The girl Reese had seen earlier was back at the front of the ship, this time with her traveling companion. They looked as if they were arguing. The other passengers gave them a wide berth, and Reese saw one little girl start to point, her mother pushing the girl’s arm down.
“Oh, there is the poor girl who just lost her father.” Aunt Tat had noticed the young woman, who was now leaning over the deck railing at the very front of the ship. “Dear me, I hope she doesn’t overbalance! She is a Miss Ashworth, I believe someone said. Clarissa Ashworth, no, it’s not Clarissa Ashworth, but it’s something similar. Oh, dear!” Her voice increased to a wail.
“What’s wrong?”
Aunt Tat clasped her hands together as if to steady them. “At the séance last night, Duchess Romaninsky warned there might be danger ahead for someone on board. She says that girl, Miss Ashworth, is surrounded by the dead. They sense something about her. How terrible for that poor child!” She clasped the scarab broach Reese had given her after his last trip to Egypt. “The Duchess told us about the tragedies that have happened aboard on previous voyages. I wish I would have known about them before we booked our passage. I saw a raven fly overhead yesterday and I should have realized it was a sign.”
Reese tried not to voice his exasperation. Aunt Tat’s fondness for the occult led her to see signs and portents everywhere. She also managed to make herself an easy target for every medium and spiritualist, including Duchess Romaninsky, a self-proclaimed member of the Romanian nobility, and the owner of the monkey who ran rampant about the ship. Reese suspected the Duchess was no more Romanian than his favorite spaniel, nor was her title anything she acquired either at birth or at marriage. He hoped the Duchess wasn’t going to become another new best friend of his aunt’s, a best friend who just happened to fall upon hard times. Aunt Tat gave money to a whole collection of spurious characters, none of whom displayed any qualms about taking advantage of her kindness.
Reese sighed. “I had better go speak to the captain about Markham. It is far too cold for you out here, Aunt Tat. Please go back to your cabin and try not to fret.”
“Yes, I think I shall. How very sad.” The elderly woman started inside and then looked back at the sea. “‘Death surely ends at once the dreamer and the dream,’” she murmured, quoting one of the many bits of poetry she kept at hand. This seemed to comfort her because she drew herself up slightly and walked steadily back to her cabin.
By the time Reese made his way to the captain, many of the passengers were out on deck looking over the railings as if there was still hope of spotting someone in the water. One woman was crying, and Reese heard an elderly man saying a prayer. Several of the crew milled around muttering uneasily, the tension clear on their faces. When Reese identified the man overboard as Markham, the captain, a large man with a barrel chest, drew close to him and spoke in a low voice. “Mr. Tretheway, if you would come up on the bridge, I’d like to speak to you more about this Markham.”
Before Reese could respond, a door opened behind the captain, and a shirtless man, his entire body blackened with coal dust, burst out of it, running at them. His eyes were wide open, the whites of them a startling contrast with the grime of his face. He grabbed the captain’s coat before anyone could stop him, leaving black finger marks on it.
An officer took hold of him, pulling him back away from the captain. “What are you doing up here, sailor? You know you aren’t allowed on a passenger deck.”
Sweat drenched the man, making rivulets through the dust on his chest. “He seen them,” he said, looking over his shoulder and then turning back to the captain. “That man that went over. He seen the ghosts and they drove him to it. They’re after me too. I’ve heard about that girl in black. She brung them out because she looks just like the other, and we’re getting close to….”
“Silence!” The captain’s voice roared so loudly, everyone around him flinched. “Get control of yourself, sailor.” He motioned to the officer. “Take this man to the infirmary and find his superior.” The man continued to jabber as he was led away, the officer pushing him to one of the ladders leading below deck.
/> When the two were out of sight, the captain held up his hand and spoke in a booming voice that must have been heard all over the outside decks. “I know this is very upsetting to all of us. We will have a service for the poor soul later today. Please don’t stay outside too long. The cold is quite fierce this time of year.” He said something in a quieter voice to the first officer and then turned to Reese, “Can you come to the bridge now?”
Reese nodded and followed the captain up to the stairs, trying to figure out how he would be able to locate any of Markham’s relatives to notify once they were back in England. The man had been hired on the recommendation of his cousin’s valet, Gash, and if Gash didn’t know, Reese wasn’t sure how he could find out.
Once up on the bridge, the captain motioned him into a tiny office and shut the door. The captain sat down behind a small desk, while Reese tried to fold his legs underneath a chair that took up most of the rest of the space.
“Mr. Tretheway,” the Captain began and then paused, as if trying to find the right words. “Mr. Tretheway, sailors are a superstitious lot, and there have been some incidents on recent voyages that have made the crew uneasy. Nonsense about ghosts and such. I’d like to be able to put out a rational explanation of why this Markham did such a thing. Did he have a history of mental disorders?”
So the Duchess hadn’t just made up the story on a whim. “I don’t know, Captain,” Reese said. “I just hired the man for the trip.” He explained the circumstances, and then added, “I am afraid he was quite a drinker. That may have had something to do with it.”
“Hmmm…I guess I could put that about. Can’t have the passengers all in a fuss. Once we dock, there will be paperwork involved. I can leave you to deal with his effects, I presume. The steward for that section will help you, of course.” The Captain stood up, and Reese did too, because there was no room for the man to get around him unless he left first.
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