18. In which books and secrets are shared, and the first Inter-Ship Antarctic Derby is held
IN WHICH BOOKS AND SECRETS ARE SHARED, AND THE FIRST INTER-SHIP ANTARCTIC DERBY IS HELD
It was a little after midnight, and Charlotte sat by the stove in the galley, warming her frozen hands by the fire. Arnold and Winston sat huddled close on either side of her, smoking pipes and enjoying the extra rations that the night watch afforded.
She nibbled at a biscuit and poured a measure of whiskey. She was still learning to stomach the flavour, but the warmth that the drink brought to her throat and belly were welcome.
“Alright, I’m going to move or I fear I shall freeze in place,” Charlotte said, donning her wolf-skin gloves and rising slowly to her feet, Marjorie instantly at her side.
Winston got up too. After the mysterious disappearance of James, they were still patrolling in pairs, even though a month had passed with no more sightings of Odette or ice holes.
And of course, she had shown Hester the part of her book that depicted the red-haired siren monster.
Charlotte had cried for days after James had disappeared. The thought of him drowning beneath the ice too horrible to bear.
She pulled a scarf out of her coat pocket, and a slip of paper, covered in writing, fell out too.
Arnold picked it up. “You dropped this,” he said, holding it out.
“Oh! Thank you.” Charlotte snatched it and placed it back in her pocket.
“What is it?”
“Oh, it’s nothing, just some silly sentences.”
Arnold stood and motioned for Winston to sit.
He grabbed the camera bag he usually carried and pulled on his hat, the green one with two tassels.
At first Charlotte had thought the hat very silly indeed, but over time she found that she couldn’t imagine him without it.
He picked up a pair of skis resting against the wall.
“I know it’s technically Winston’s turn, but I’m coming with you,” he said, his smile flashing in the light of the stove.
Before Charlotte could protest, he had left the galley, and she grabbed her own skis and dashed out after him, Marjorie at her heel.
“Why leave the warmth when you don’t have to?” she asked, slightly out of breath after running up the companionway steps, her breath clouding in the frigid night air. The rigging was lit by the moonlight and looked ghostly, limned with frost.
“I’m being nosy about your piece of paper.”
Charlotte rolled her eyes and followed him down the ramp onto the ice, throwing her skis down and doing up the bindings. The cold bit at her nose.
“And what if I don’t want to tell you about the piece of paper? Or what if it’s nothing but a grocery list?” She didn’t mind telling him what it was, but it was fun to be coy.
Arnold snorted. “Where would you be buying groceries out here?”
“It was an example,” she said, then smiled, an idea coming to her. “I’ll tell you what the paper is if you tell me a secret of your own.” She had been curious since he’d won the vote for ‘person most likely to have a secret’.
“Hmm. Deal,” he said, thrusting out a gloved hand to shake, which Charlotte took, gripping tightly.
They began the circuit around the ship, checking the pressure ridges, which were growing to be more of a concern with each passing day. In fact, the Intrepid had sprung multiple leaks. Happily, the Valour was faring better.
The full moon lit their way, and the wind howled, whipping the top layer of snow off the ice and into flurries that sparkled in the air.
“The paper is a list of phrases that remind me I can be brave,” Charlotte said with a shrug.
“Such as?”
“Oh, all along the lines of valour in the face of fear, you know. Uplifting things I found written in Ernie’s journals. Do you think me silly, to need to remind myself of all that?”
“Not at all. It seems a good idea to me.” He nudged her with his elbow and smiled, a dimple showing. “Thank you for telling me.”
She gazed up at the thousands of stars that hung in the night sky and paused, her hand shooting out to catch Arnold’s arm. “Look,” she breathed.
Above them, green and blue ribbons of light danced, twisting and jerking one way and then the other, the glow of it ethereal. She could hardly believe it was happening, and her face broke into a smile so wide her cheeks hurt.
“The Southern Lights!” Arnold drew a camera out of his bag. “I’ll get one of you with them, stand just there.”
Charlotte moved where he pointed. “Will you even be able to see me?”
“Your silhouette, yes. It’ll make a great photograph.”
“I shall hang it on my bedroom wall when we get home.” She looked up again, her heart so full she thought it might burst. The camera clicked. “It’s like looking into another world. Look, I can almost see a lighthouse there.”
He huffed a laugh and placed the camera back into its bag, came to stand behind her and pointed upwards. “That tall pillar of light? Yes, I think I see it. If I squint. What about that bit—it looks like huge sand dunes.”
“So it does!”
They continued their circuit of the ship under the glow of the green lights.
“Alright, it’s your turn to tell me a secret,” Charlotte said, still mesmerised by the dancing swoops of light.
Arnold pursed his lips, and she knew he was frowning in thought, even though she couldn’t see his brow underneath the hat.
“I am hopelessly in love with someone who does not love me back,” Arnold said, letting out a sigh of frozen mist.
“Oh! How awful. But—how do you know they don’t love you back?” Charlotte asked, rubbing Arnold’s arm in sympathy. She felt odd, like bubbles were both rising and sinking in her chest.
“I just know,” he said. “Trust me.”
Who could it be? “Is it Fliss?”
“What? No! It’s not Fliss,” Arnold said, laughing.
“Betty?”
“Heavens, no. Stop it,” Arnold said, shaking his head.
Charlotte hummed, then shrugged. There was no way it could be her. “Well, I am here for you, if you need an ear.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that.”
They skied on, finally coming back to the ramp and trudging onto the deck. Charlotte took one last look at the dancing green lights before ducking inside the companionway.
“This is absolutely filthy,” Hester breathed.
She lay on the settee in the chart room, a romance book above her head, chuckling to herself.
It had been a while since she’d picked up the book she’d been reading the day they had discovered James’s clothing, but enough time had elapsed that she could bear to read again.
There wasn’t a huge amount of reading material on board to be precious about such things.
Fliss looked up from the chart table, where she was plotting the latest sights.
“What?” Fliss asked with a huff. “Whatever is it now?”
“This bit is downright dirty. I have never heard anything so ludicrous.”
“Which bit?” Fliss asked, putting down the pencil and callipers.
“The bit where he says…oh, I don’t even know if I can read it out loud,” she laughed heartily and pinched the bridge of her nose. “The bit where he says I’ll take you like no one ever has before, you’ll be praying to…to God—” she cackled, clutching the book to her chest.
“Oh, I quite liked that bit,” Fliss said, frowning.
“Seriously?! You honestly wouldn’t just laugh in a man’s face if he said that to you?”
“Well…if a man actually said that to me…hmm. Maybe.” Fliss shrugged and stood, and Hester jumped off the settee and ran at her.
“What on Earth are you—” Fliss cried as Hester slammed her against the wall, holding her wrists.
“Felicity,” she purred in a low voice. “I’ll take you like no one ever has before. You’ll be praying to God by the time I’m done with you. You won’t know your own name.”
Fliss roared with laughter and shoved Hester back. “Alright, alright. Maybe I would laugh,” she conceded.
“As if anyone could make me, Hester Orn, pray to God. Maybe next time you see Emlyn you should say it to him,” Hester said, winking.
“Can you imagine?!”
“I dare you. Oh, yes, I double dare you to,” Hester yelped, clapping her hands together. She could just imagine Emlyn’s face.
“My God, no,” Fliss said, shaking her head, then sitting on the settee, Hester joining her. “Although I am seeing him later.”
Again?! Hester’s stomach tightened. Fliss seemed to be spending more time with Emlyn than with her lately. She pressed her back into the settee. “I thought I saw him sneaking around only yesterday!”
“Yes, well…there’s not much else to do around here, is there?”
Hester snorted. “Surely there’s more to it than that.”
“What do you want me to say? We’re madly in love?” Fliss curled her legs up under her, toes touching against Hester’s.
“Well, are you?” Hester wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer to that, but the words were out before she could stop them.
“Maybe.”
Hester’s mouth dropped open. She knew Fliss had been keeping something from her. Knew it. “Are you?!”
“If I tell you that you’ll only tell everyone and make a big song and dance about it—I mean that literally. Last time I was in love you literally made a song and a dance about it.”
Hester cackled. “I did, didn’t I? Now, how did it go….”
“Oh, please don’t—I couldn’t show my face in The Ship’s Cat for a month.”
Hester hooted a laugh. It had been rather funny. But…had it upset Fliss so much she would keep something so huge from her? “Alright, fine. Don’t tell me then.”
“And what of you? Was it you who posed as Odette to have your wicked way with the Intrepid crew? You have been known to don a wig.”
Hester scowled. “Felicity. Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Alright!” Fliss held up her hands. “Do you think it was Mei? I could see her being a dark horse.”
“No. I spoke to everyone afterwards. Perhaps the men all had the same hallucination?”
“Seems unlikely.” Fliss pulled at the ends of her hair. “It gives me the shivers talking about this, if you’re certain it wasn’t any of us.”
“I am certain.” Hester bit the inside of her cheek. The word Septimus had used was ringing around her head. Siren. And then there was the image Charlotte had shown her in the book of myths. A red-headed woman.
Fliss leant closer to her. “Let’s change the subject.”
Hester was only too keen to talk about other things. “Good idea. How is the hull fairing?”
“A bit leaky. Winston is keeping on top of things. Nothing compared to the Intrepid, though.”
“Oh?” Septimus hadn’t mentioned anything, but she hadn’t seen much of him. Deliberately kept away. She couldn’t be developing feelings for him. It was out of the question.
“They had a big leak last week, Emlyn said, but all under control now.”
“Good. Say, how go the preparations for the dog races?”
“Very well. You, Snowball and the team are fastest, and Charlotte is pretty good too.”
Of course she was the fastest. What did Fliss expect? “Who shall we enter as the third team?”
“Peggy, I reckon.”
“Alright. We did some practice races against a few of the Intrepid crew yesterday. Frank is fast, but the rest aren’t up to much.
I haven’t seen His Lordship race, though.
He is an unknown quantity in all this.” Hester stroked her chin, brows furrowed.
It was infuriating that he hadn’t shown up to the practises.
“Urgh. I’ll wager he’s fast. Men like him are good at everything,” Fliss said.
Hester smiled wickedly and tapped her fingers on the discarded romance novel. “We’ll see, won’t we?”
15th June 1915, Weddell Sea
There was one race left to decide the winner of the dog sled derby. The two ships had to put forward their best dog team driver for a grand finale, and Charlotte was giddy to find that she had won the most races for the Valour.
Hester approached and growled in Charlotte’s ear. “No pressure, Boss, but you have to win this.”
She was quietly confident. Had been studying Septimus’s tactics. “Aye, Captain.”
“Charlotte, Septimus. Ready?” Fliss called, her face deadly serious. “On your marks, set…”
Charlotte took a deep breath, willing her dogs to run like the wind.
“GO!”
Charlotte snapped the reins and cried, “On! Marjorie! On!”
The sled shuddered into motion, sliding forwards on the snow, and Marjorie pulled with all her might, tongue already lolling.
“Go! Go ON, my loves!” Charlotte crouched low on the sled as the dogs raced onwards, picking up speed.
She risked a glance to the side. Septimus was a little way behind. She blew out a long breath, then inhaled the frozen air, the wind whipping against her cheeks. A little kernel of belief settled in her chest, bright and hard.
“On Marjorie! On Samson! On Hercules!”
The ice was a sparkling white blur as they flew through the snow.
The finish line grew closer.
They had to make it.
“Come ONNNN!” Hester yelled, her voice cracking.
But Septimus was gaining, his dogs finding their stride, black streaks against the white snow.
“Come on,” Charlotte breathed, cracking the reins.
It was no good. Septimus drew level and began to pull ahead.
“On! On! On for extra dinner!” Charlotte cried.
It did the trick. The sled jolted under her as the dogs pulled harder than ever, and they crossed the finish line to the wave of a black flag and a shout of, “Charlotte Bailey of the Valour wins the Inter-Ship Antarctic Derby of nineteen fifteen!”
The dogs trotted to a halt, and Hester ran from behind and jumped on Charlotte’s shoulders screaming, “YESSSS!” and toppling them both into a pile of ice and snow and dogs.
Exhilarated beyond imagining, Charlotte lay on her back beneath her friend.
She had done it.
She had won.
She thought of that meek, timid woman who could not get a word in edge-ways, that dutiful daughter who followed orders, that not-quite-a-wife she had been.
Under her skin she felt a shifting and changing, more marked than before.
The hard edges of the ice, the roar of the winds and the company of bright, ferocious women were shaping her into something harder, something glowing, and she did not shy away from it, as she might once have done.
She grasped it with both of her calloused hands, and she did not look back.
Grinning so hard her cheeks hurt, she gazed up at the albatross wheeling overhead.