7. In which the Valour proceeds
IN WHICH THE VALOUR PROCEEDS
Charlotte could hardly believe that the time had arrived.
She stood next to Hester, who leant against the wheel of the Valour.
The docks were dark, what with it being a little past two o’clock in the morning.
The shadows of the crew crept about the deck, gilded by the moonlight.
The wind whistled through the rigging, an eerie sort of noise that had the hairs on the back of her neck rising.
Everything had been steadily smuggled on board over the summer, including twenty-nine sled-dogs, who were kept quiet with a crate full of bones below the deck.
She thought of her mother as she stared out past the harbour wall and towards the vast, pitch-black sea beyond it.
An immense weight of guilt in having left without saying goodbye settled along Charlotte’s shoulders.
She took steady breaths, trying to dispel the churning in her gut.
She had left a letter for her mother with Alma, who knew of her plans, and it would be delivered at lunchtime when Charlotte would be far from shore.
“You’re anxious, aren’t you?” Hester whispered, her green eyes fixed on Charlotte.
“Of course,” she replied, twisting the hem of her white cotton blouse, the one with billowing sleeves she’d had Hester order for her. It was like a breath of fresh air to get out of the black dresses, and wearing breeches was a revelation.
“Everything will be fine. You’ll see,” Hester said, smiling so that her gold tooth shone in the moonlight, along with the rings in her ears.
“We have a motto on the Valour, Charlotte. Valour in the face of fear.” She pulled down her shirt to reveal a tattoo over her heart showing those words, written on a flowing banner, three stars surrounding them.
Charlotte took a deep breath. Yes, she could follow that motto.
Most probably. Her next thought was of Ernie.
Oh, he would be so proud to see her. Of that, she was sure.
Fliss ran along the deck towards them, her feet bare and silent. “Ready when you give the word, Captain.”
Hester nodded, and simply said, “Proceed.” Fliss turned and ran back towards the masts and relayed the order to the rest of the crew.
A few moments later, three white sails unfurled with a snap from the masts.
The wind filled them quickly, the canvas straining.
They couldn’t risk starting the engine and making noise to alert Septimus, and so the plan was to leave the harbour under sail, which was a difficult business as the ship was so large and the harbour entrance so small.
Charlotte had no doubt, after observing her over the past few weeks, that Hester was up to the task.
Ropes that moored the Valour to the land were hauled on board, and the ship began to drift away from the quay. Hester flipped a gold coin into the water, and Charlotte cocked her head in question.
“A toll to Neptune, for safe passage.” Hester twitched the wheel from one side to the other as she manoeuvred the vessel into the middle of the harbour, and sniggered as they passed by the Intrepid, blowing a kiss in its direction before focussing her sights on the gap in the harbour walls.
Charlotte staggered as Hester spun the wheel, lining the ship up with the gap perfectly.
Hester threw out a hand to grab hold of her, and Charlotte clutched at the captain’s arm until she found her feet again.
She couldn’t quite bring herself to go barefoot, instead wearing rubber sea boots, her navy breeches tucked into them.
She watched the Intrepid with her breath held, sure that the cunning lord was about to emerge from the shadows.
The other ship remained empty and silent.
But wait—did her eyes deceive her? Or was there a patch of darkness blacker than black standing on the deck of the Intrepid? “Hester,” she whispered, pointing into the night.
Hester turned to look, her lips curving upwards. “Well, well.”
The figure—for it was a figure—turned and disappeared into the shadows.
“Was it him?” Charlotte asked, biting her lip.
Hester shrugged. “Or one of his crew. Fear not. There’s nothing he can do now.”
“Are you certain?”
“Unless he plans to chase us, I’m certain.”
The Valour slipped silently between the harbour walls and out into the ocean beyond, heading south. Charlotte tried to read the letters inked on Hester’s fingers. HOLD FAST. She flexed her own hands. She’d never have the courage to get a tattoo.
A gaggle of the crew had sidled up from the lower deck and stood before the wheel, curious looks on their faces. Charlotte shrunk behind Hester, her hand searching for the soft comfort of Marjorie, but the dog was not there. Was nowhere to be seen, in fact. How very odd.
Hester laughed. “Aren’t you a bunch of nosy curs, creeping up to take a look at our Boss?”
Boss. Charlotte couldn’t help but smile. That was the nickname Ernie’s crew had for him, too.
A woman with jaw-length tightly curling brown hair inched forwards. “Forgive us, we are eager to meet Mrs Bailey.” She stuck out her hand. “I’m Peggy, the navigator.”
A woman next to Peggy with unruly hair tied back with a red and white spotted kerchief grabbed her hand next. “I’m Betty, deckhand.”
“Rufus, deckhand,” a burly man with chestnut skin and salt-and-pepper hair and beard said, gripping her hand tightly.
The final man leant forward, tanned, with floppy dark brown hair falling into hazel eyes. “Arnold Miller, chief engineer.”
When she set her hand in his, it was large, rough, and a vague heat rose to her cheeks, blazing when he lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed it, his lips warm and soft.
Oh. He was…charming. Too charming. She’d met a man so charming once before, on that night, and it had not ended well.
She took a deep breath. Ernie was no longer there to save her, and she must be brave.
She managed to squeak out, “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr Miller.” Charlotte cringed.
God, she sounded like a meek little wallflower.
“The pleasure is all mine,” he said with a wink, releasing her hand.
Peggy rolled her eyes and knocked him out of the way. “Less of the charm, Arnold,” Peggy drawled. “The Boss isn’t interested. She’s too highly bred for the likes of you.”
Arnold puffed out his chest. “I went to university, I’ll have you kn—”
“Oh, here we go again.” Fliss had wandered over. “Don’t mind Arnold, he can be a devil, but he means well.”
Arnold flashed a smile at Charlotte. She studied her feet. Fliss pinched his ear and growled, “Stop that.”
They were all so familiar with each other. Was Fliss jealous? Was there something between her and Arnold? Charlotte looked beseechingly at Hester.
“Come, children, don’t you have important work to do?” Hester said, waving them off.
Arnold held up a hand. “Before we attend our important work, I have a question for Charlotte. I saw the camera boxes with your luggage. I wondered whether I might look at the equipment. I’m partial to a spot of photography.”
Fliss gave Arnold a shove. “You shouldn’t be looking through the Boss’s luggage, Arnold, whatever is the matter with you?”
“It’s not like that! I carried the trunks on board and spotted the camera cases,” he said, glaring at Fliss.
“It’s quite alright,” Charlotte said. “They were Ernie’s cameras. I brought them along hoping someone might know how to use them.” She would love some photographs of the trip. Photographs she could hang on the walls of Amery House once they had returned.
“I only dabble, but yes, I know how they work.” Arnold no longer wore that air of charisma, but something softer, more boyish and earnest came over him. Charlotte’s stomach flipped.
“Arnold is being coy. He’s very good. He took the photographs of the Northern Lights on our previous expedition,” Hester said.
Charlotte sighed. “I should love to see the Southern Lights. Would you take photographs of this expedition? We ought to have a record. Photographs as well as the scientific measurements.”
“Ah, yes. Valerie and Peggy will take charge of the scientific operations, but our main focus will be stepping into uncharted territory, mapping the continent.” Hester said. “And Mei will be the resident artist. When she’s not cooking.”
“I’d be delighted.” Arnold flashed her a dazzling smile, charisma turned back on. “Now. I’m eager to see the dogs. On the way to my important work in the engine room, of course.”
“Do you like dogs?” Charlotte could always judge a person on their love of animals, especially their love of dogs. All the best people loved dogs.
“Like is a poor word for how Arnold feels about dogs. You’d think an engineer would only have eyes for his machines.” Hester looked around the upper deck. “Where is Marjorie this evening? She’s usually stuck to you like glue.”
Yes, where was Marjorie? She hadn’t seen her all evening. “Do you know, I haven’t seen her.”
Arnold offered his arm. “Shall we go and see them?”
Fliss batted him away. “Stop it, you charmer.” She draped an arm over Charlotte’s shoulders. “Come, we can all go and see the dogs.”
Charlotte couldn’t contain her smile. “I’d like that.”
They made their way from the deck, down the steps of the companionway and along dimly lit corridors, the smell of wood and oil and—was that stew? Whatever it was, it smelt delicious.
“Mei is cooking up a storm already,” Hester said, rubbing her stomach.
They passed down more steps, and Arnold threw open the door to the hold, Hester, Fliss and Peggy crowded behind.
Charlotte could barely make out what was happening inside.
Marjorie.
One of the sled dogs mounted on her back.
Charlotte screamed, her eyes wide with horror. “Marjorie! No!”
Hester cackled. “We’ll call that one Romeo.”
11th August 1914, Atlantic Ocean