Chapter 4
Chapter Four
The cabin is not truly a cabin, more like a hotel suite. An extravagant suite.
A crystal chandelier hangs in the center of the ceiling, swaying slightly with the motion of the waters.
Opulent loungers made of green velvet and dark wood furnish the place.
Large windows reside in every direction of the ship.
Drapes made of red velvet and tied on the side by an elegant golden twisted rope.
I walk along the wooden floor with a large, intricate Persian rug resting centered in the room.
This spacious cabin can fit a family of four easily.
The ocean liner is not exactly what I had in mind for our expedition.
Envisioning close-knit corners and hallways, small rooms and cabins with tiny beds and small peepholes for windows.
Instead, I’m standing in a luxurious leisure ship. No doubt this was my Grandad’s choosing, as Oxford could never fund such a ship.
I plop onto the large bed and run my hands over the satin covers, wanting to melt into the smooth texture. A knock comes from my cabin’s door, forcing me to stand.
“Yes?” I call out.
I didn’t expect to hear a soft, meek voice reply. “Good morning, Miss Fairfax. My name is Emily, and I’m your and Dr. Baccar’s maid for the duration of your trip. May I come in?”
Springing from the bed, I glide over and open the door to find a startled expression staring back at me. It’s as if no one she’s ever served has opened the door for her before.
“Yes, of course,” I say, gesturing for her to come inside.
Her petite frame barely seems to register in the spacious stateroom. She stands just inside the doorway, arms drawn close, as if afraid to touch anything without permission.
“Your clothes have already been folded and tucked away in the armoire,” Emily says, nodding toward it.
She motions to the stack of chests by the desk.
“I wasn’t sure what you wished to do with your books and equipment, so I left them there for you to decide.
Luncheon will be served informally in the dining room, as Lord Claremont knows everyone has a lot to unpack.
Dinner, however, will be formally served at seven o’clock. ”
“Thank you, Emily. I haven’t decided how I’d like to organize my equipment and books, so if you don’t mind, that’ll be a task I’d like to do.”
“If that’s what you’d like, Miss. If you do need anything from me, just hit that button on the wall by your bed, and I will know to come to you.”
Once I’m all alone in my room again, I stare down at the chests filled with journals and equipment. I know I need to get the tedious task of unpacking them over with, as I’ll need them when we start planning for our first dig site in Olympia tomorrow.
Before long, worn journals and annotated books surround my desk after I unload them from the chest, years of my endless research contained inside them.
As I open my equipment bag, the leather squeaks as fresh creases form in the folds, each piece of equipment shining back at me, my reflection visible as clear as day.
I take slow, steady breaths as realization hits my chest.
The Seven Wonders are the greatest architectural achievements spanning history. Six of them were destroyed by natural disasters thousands of years ago, leaving only human documentation—texts and illustrations—as their everlasting impression on the world.
If Grandad and I are correct about the locations of each destroyed wonder, we may be able to uncover relics or structural pieces that have survived all these years.
We are on a journey to unearth lost pieces of ancient history and prove not only their existence, but what they truly looked like—a feat no one has yet accomplished.
By the time I’ve finished organizing my things, the sun has set.
I peek out the window at a navy-blue sky, lightened by the moon shining somewhere behind me, and a vast ocean of dark water.
I walk over to my desk and run my finger over the map marked with the outline of our trip.
Noting the time on my wristwatch, I calculate that we are now somewhere near the west coast of France.
As I read the time, I rush to check the clock once more. Panic floods me.
My god, it’s nearly seven, and I’m going to be late for dinner.
Frantically, I rush over to the armoire to change into a fresh dress.
I choose a simple blue cotton dress that flows down to my ankles, grab it from its hanger, and rush to change.
In the water closet, I adjust my appearance, cleaning up the disheveled look from hours of unpacking.
I pull my hair into its usual loose bun at the nape of my neck and wash my face with fresh water.
It’s in arbitrary moments like this that I wonder which parts of me look like her—my mother.
Did I get my button nose from her? Or my brown eyes?
Full lips? Did she have the same freckles that darken after too much time in the sun?
Unfortunately, my father took with him the only photographs we had of her, leaving me to fill in the gaps with my meager memory.
When I do think about her, I always wonder if she is looking down at me with a smile, proud of the person I am.
I’d like to believe she would have been a suffragette like Evangeline and me, fighting for our rights alongside our sisters, and that she wouldn’t have shied me away from my dream, but pushed me to dream even bigger.
The wall clock chimes, signaling it’s now seven.
I give myself one last smile in the mirror and leave my cabin to meet the others in the dining room.
For a small ocean liner, the ship is still large enough to confuse one’s sense of direction due to unfamiliarity.
Once I find the dining room, I see that I’m not the last to arrive, thankfully.
Grandad, Amina, and Dr. Alarie are already sitting at the dining table, drinking wine and talking about something related to the expedition, no doubt. I’m not surprised Mr. Ashford is late again, but since I barely made it in time myself, I cannot fault him.
Grandad sits at the head of the table, with Amina to his left and Dr. Alarie to his right. I take a seat beside Amina.
“Did you happen to get lost on your way here, too?” Amina whispers.
I glance over at her and am met with a knowing look. I try to contain a laugh from escaping as I take the neatly folded cloth napkin from my plate and place it in my lap.
“Only if you do not tell the others,” I whisper back.
Amina breaks into a smile that turns into soft laughter. “Your secret is safe with me,” she says, nudging my arm as if we’re conspiring about something.
Before long, Mr. Ashford comes strolling into the dining room, looking flustered.
“Ah, there you are!” Grandad says, gesturing to the chair across from me. “Take a seat, my boy, and we can get started.”
Our eyes meet as he takes a seat. He’s fixed his appearance: his hair is neatly pomaded, not a single strand curling, and his tweed jacket sits properly on his shoulders. My lingering gaze drifts away once Grandad stands and raises his wineglass, beginning a toast.
“Now, I know this isn’t customary, but I do want to say a few words to mark the start of our journey.
As you all may know, the Seven Wonders is a topic my granddaughter and I have been studying for all our lives.
To be standing here with all of you, embarking on an archaeological expedition to find any remnants of the Seven Wonders of the World, is an absolute privilege.
All of you are the most esteemed and intelligent group of people I’ve ever met, and now have the honor of going on this journey with.
I look forward to working with you all over these next five months.
” Grandad raises his glass above his head.
“Here's to making new friendships, learning from one another, and discovering lost artifacts of history.”
We all raise our glasses with him, saluting him and our voyage.
The first course arrives shortly after his speech. Dinner promises to be lively. The others dive into a discussion about the expedition, while I watch and listen keenly to these ingenious minds at work.
“I still cannot believe the remaining pieces of the Colossus of Rhodes were sold off as if they were rubbish, as you Brits like to say,” Dr. Alarie says, shaking his head. “Who knows if anything of it is left in Rhodes.”
“Especially if the statue had one leg on each side of the harbor,” Amina adds. “Any pieces that weren’t sold off are most likely hidden deep in the water from the earthquake.”
“That’s if the statue was designed like that,” I inject, not realizing I’ve spoken my thought aloud.
I notice several pairs of eyes resting on me, and I quickly return their gaze, surprised. To my relief, there isn’t an ounce of irritation or annoyance on their faces.
“Given the dimensions and weight of the bronze sculpture,” I continue, “it most certainly had to have been built with both legs on one side of the harbor. For support.”
A prideful smirk rises on Grandad’s face as he takes a sip of wine, while the others remain silent. I start to fear I’ve done something I shouldn’t have and wish I’d kept my academic theory to myself.
Dr. Alarie places his chin into his hand, thinking. “I never considered that,” he says after a moment. “You may be onto something there, Miss Fairfax. I sure hope we prove your theory right by uncovering a piece of the sculpture.”
I know he is genuine with his words as Dr. Alarie smiles encouragingly at me—the type of smile I’ve only seen given to my male counterparts at Oxford when they’ve made a seemingly astute observation during lecture.