17. In which there is a perfectly circular hole in the ice
IN WHICH THERE IS A PERFECTLY CIRCULAR HOLE IN THE ICE
Hester looked up from the sordid scene in the book she was reading. Someone had just knocked on her cabin door. “Hello?” This had better be important.
The door opened and Peggy stuck her head around the door. “Septimus wants you.”
Hester thought her face might crack from the smile that spread across it.
So, he had finally sent for her. It would have been better if he had come himself, but she could look past that.
She hopped down from her bed and followed Peggy out into the corridor.
A thrill ran down her spine as she wondered whether he’d want her on top or underneath him, playing out all the things she wanted him to do to her.
She rubbed her hands together. “Thank you, Peggy. I’ll take it from here.”
“Er, no. He wants us all. Roll call.”
What? He wanted to see her entire crew? For a roll call? She frowned, and the heat that had been warming her from the inside fizzled and died like a spent flare. “Why?” Was all she could splutter.
“Not sure. Frank seemed upset when he came over a few minutes ago.”
They filed up onto the icy deck and passed down the ramp with the rest of the crew, over the ice and into the shadow of the Intrepid, where Septimus and his men stood.
The air was heavy, and all thoughts of sex fled Hester’s mind as she looked upon the grim faces of the men.
She raised her eyes to Septimus’s. “What happened?” For clearly something had occurred.
The tension could have been cut with a knife.
Septimus gestured to the ice, where a perfectly circular hole had been cut. There was a pile of clothing next to it. A reindeer fur coat, breeches, boots, shirt. “James is missing. These are his clothes.” Septimus’s voice was taut. He raked a hand through his hair, pulling half of it from its tie.
Hester swallowed, her heart skipping a beat. “You don’t think…” If he had stripped off and gone into that ice hole, he would be dead. There was no doubt about it.
“The evidence suggests that he did,” Septimus said.
“But why?! Why would he do that?”
“Frank saw the hole two nights ago on his patrol around the ship. James was on watch last night, and now he is gone.”
“And nobody saw anything? Was he prone to…morbid thoughts?” Sometimes on expeditions the crew could become depressed to the point of suicide.
“Not that we knew of,” Septimus said.
“So that leaves…not very many explanations.”
Septimus shook his head. “Either someone here persuaded him to go for a swim in the nude, or…I don’t know.”
“Wait. Where is Odette?” Frank asked, his gaze raking over the Valour’s crew. “She isn’t here either.”
“Odette?” Hester said, her brow furrowing. “What are you talking about?”
Septimus turned to Frank. “Yes, what are you talking about?”
“Odette. You know. Long red hair, eye patch, massive breasts.” Frank used his hands to mime an enormous chest, looking to his fellow crew for support.
“Oh, I know Odette,” Charlie said with a soft chuckle. “I know Odette very well.”
Frank’s face changed, a snarl ripped from him, and he shoved Charlie. “What do you mean by that? She said I was the only one for her.”
“No!” Victor said, folding his arms. “That’s what she told me.”
Disgust coiled in Hester’s stomach. So, Victor would leave her to drown, and then bed someone else? But hang on—“Wait! Who the fuck is Odette?!”
“She’s one of your crew. Have you been at the grog again, Captain Orn?” Charlie asked, laughing.
Hester shook her head. “She most certainly is not on my crew.” There was a murmur of agreement from the Valour’s crew. Had someone been dressing up? But who?
“Wait. So you three have been sleeping with the same woman? A woman who is not on my crew, or on Captain Orn’s crew?” Septimus asked.
Frank, Charlie and Victor mumbled in the affirmative. Hester scowled at Victor in particular. Not that she cared. Of course she didn’t care.
Septimus stalked forward and took Hester by the arm, leading her away from the group. In a low voice he asked, “Has one of your crew been dressing up and coming over here to seduce my men?”
Hester snatched her arm back. “Of course not! Don’t be absurd.” She glanced over her shoulder at them. No, there was not one person on her crew who she would accuse of doing that. Why, the most likely person to do that would be—
“It was you, wasn’t it? Come on, admit it.” Septimus glowered at her.
She shoved him in the chest. Never mind that she’d had the same thought. The difference was, she knew it was not her. “It wasn’t me, or any of my crew. We have higher standards than Victor.”
“You didn’t before.”
Was that a hint of jealousy in his voice?
It was beside the point. Hester threw her hands up.
“That was before I learned of his true nature. Obviously. The bigger matter here is what the fuck has happened to James. Not accusing me or my crew of sleeping around with your men.” Hester’s gaze caught on the pile of clothing by the ice hole, and a chill ran through her, colder than the icy wind.
“What are you insinuating, then? That some kind of siren has been seducing my men, and has dragged one to their death?” Septimus seemed to slow on the words as he spoke them, until the word ‘death’ dragged out.
His throat worked as he stared, wide-eyed, at the pile of clothes.
He said under his breath, “Sirens…sirens aren’t real. ” His gaze collided with hers.
Hester’s mouth dried out. “Of course they’re not real.” Her voice came out as a squeak. She rubbed at her cheeks. “There has to be another explanation.” But Arnold had almost been lured overboard in South Georgia. And giant orcas who spoke into one’s head shouldn’t exist either.
“Of course,” he said, tugging at his beard.
Hester turned back to the group. “No one goes out on patrol alone. If Odette shows up again, shout for help.”