Chapter Nine Sigrid
Chapter Nine
Sigrid
Four days until the Oceanus is torpedoed
My hand was tucked in the crook of William’s arm as we entered the dining room for the dinner service.
I was glad to be out of our cabin and around the company of others.
I drew my energy from people and attention.
My beauty was an asset that I’d used since I was a child.
William had been no exception, although he soon realized that sharing me with others was tiring.
He preferred my attention on him and not distracted with others, especially men.
But I liked to flirt and enjoyed how it made his face red with jealousy.
If he released me, maybe I’d stop. Maybe not.
The hum of chatter drifted down the hallway.
The Oceanus was clear of Port of Spain, and now we were in open waters.
No one was talking about the dangers of travel, but we were all aware this voyage was not without risks.
There’d be no bands or loud parties. We were to remain quiet, our porthole curtains drawn so as not to attract the attention of a U-boat captain.
My dress was not overly formal. It was made of a light blue silk with billowy sleeves that gathered at my wrists. The dress’s collar was trimmed in white lace, and the neckline plunged to a modest depth. He wore his customary dark suit, polished shoes, and a blue tie that matched my dress.
“You look lovely, my dear,” William said.
I beamed, tracing my naked hand over his. “It’s important I make my husband proud.”
“Shh. That is our secret.”
I mimicked a coquettish pout. “When ours becomes a truly legal union, I will shout it out loud.”
“Soon enough.”
I’d told myself a hundred times the journey would be flawless, that I would accomplish what I needed to do, but as we passed several large portholes, I caught myself staring at the horizon.
The stars shone bright in the dark sky, but the waxing moon didn’t drip much light on the water.
I’d never feared the water and instead found it invigorating.
As the steward escorted us to the captain’s table, I scanned the dining room. There was no one here I recognized, but it was still early in the voyage.
At our table, we were greeted by three other people.
There were Mr. and Mrs. DuPont. From what William had told me, they were from old New England money.
The DuPont family had made their fortune in shipping, and since the war, Mr. DuPont had shifted his efforts toward supplying Britain.
He and his wife were returning from Cape Town and had been on the Oceanus for weeks.
DuPont was a midsize man with a thick mustache.
His belly was round, his skin blotched as if sensitive to the sun.
His wife wasn’t much older than William, but she had a dour demeanor that aged her a decade.
Her dark hair was ruthlessly pinned back, and her starched collar was so high my throat itched at the thought.
She greeted me with cool eyes and a pleasant expression, as many women did.
Our places were marked with our names, and to my delight, couples were not seated next to each other.
I was happy to have distance from William, though I could see he wasn’t thrilled to have me out of his control.
He knew I liked to drink and strike up conversations with anyone.
One never knew what other bits of information others had, but he always feared I’d overshare.
Despite William’s frown, he was careful to not make a fuss in a crowd.
Dr. Brooks, the book dealer, seated to my left, stood immediately. He was a medium-size man who didn’t look extraordinary in any way. He was the first to extend his hand, and he struck me as a little overeager. “Atticus Brooks of New York.”
I shook Dr. Brooks’s hand, nodding as my fingers tightened.
I’d heard from several at the hotel that Dr. Brooks was quite the world traveler.
He, too, had boarded this ship in Cape Town after having traveled the whole of Africa this past year.
A purveyor of books, charms, and art, he’d gone into Port of Spain last night to see what treasures he could find.
He’d boarded with a very pregnant woman on his arm.
She was tall with delicate bones, but her hat had hidden her face from the sun and me.
Dr. Brooks reminded me of men I’d crossed paths with in Vienna. They worked in the shadows and went unnoticed by most. But as I searched my memory, I couldn’t place him.
To my right sat Mrs. DuPont. She smelled like the lavender soap I favored. Dr. Brooks and Mr. DuPont waited until I’d sat.
“I’m William Weller. It’s good to meet you,” William said to Mrs. DuPont. “And my companion is Miss Sigrid Stein.”
Mrs. DuPont’s smile was tepid. “I hear you’ve traveled extensively across the European continent.”
He nodded, careful to keep the details vague. “I’ve had the great pleasure of visiting the biggest cities in Europe.”
“And Miss Stein, tell me about yourself,” Mrs. DuPont said.
“I am from Vienna,” I answered.
“Ah, a lovely city. I haven’t been there in years. I’ve heard it’s taken a dark turn.”
“Yes,” I said, softening my voice. “Many changes.”
“Dr. Brooks has also crossed Europe multiple times,” Mrs. DuPont said.
The steward showed William a wine list. He wasn’t much for wine, but a good whiskey was always welcome.
“Dr. Brooks, when was the last time you were in Europe?” I asked.
“My last trips were to Germany and Austria.” His confident tone was reminiscent of generals ready for battle. “Vienna is a stunning city. I was there in 1938.”
“What was your favorite part of the city?” I asked.
“The Danube River is stunning, especially by moonlight.”
“It’s a stunning river,” I said. I’d spent my younger years traveling from country to country on the river. Once it had had gentle curves and turns. But over the centuries, industrious men had found a way to straighten its bends, enabling faster river travel. A shame.
William, who knew my heritage, frowned. “Heavily patrolled these days.”
“There’s very little of the world not shadowed by the war now,” Dr. Brooks said.
“So true,” William said. “But it won’t last forever.”
“Dr. Brooks, what kind of trinkets did you gather on this trip?” Mrs. DuPont asked.
“I have many items that might be of interest,” he said. However, like a good salesman, he teased us with his silence.
A steward presented Dr. Brooks with two bottles of wine.
“I hope you don’t mind. I ordered a couple of reds for the table,” Dr. Brooks said.
The steward filled his glass, and he swirled the burgundy, sipped, and nodded.
As the steward presented the bottle to the others at the table, Dr. Brooks added, “Join me if it’s to your tastes. ”
Everyone accepted a glass, and when I sipped the wine, I found the oaky flavors exquisite. Dr. Brooks knew his wines. William took a sip, but I could see he didn’t love it.
Mrs. DuPont’s tight expression eased as she drank. “Doctor, I hear you collect items that are supernatural in nature.”
In Europe, the wealthy were fascinated by the occult, which I’d used to my advantage many times in the salons.
Even those highest in the German and Austrian governments were fascinated by the spiritual activities of the past, present, and future.
However, those who traded in these arts were careful to keep their messages positive.
Dr. Brooks reached in his coat pocket and pulled out two coins with rough edges. Embossed on the metal were long faces with large eyes. They looked primitive and very old.
“I got these from a dealer in a small shop in Madagascar.”
“Where is that?” I asked.
“Nearly three hundred miles due east of Mozambique,” Dr. Brooks said. When my confusion was clear, he added, “The southern edge of Africa, on the east coast.”
“Ah. But why would anyone want to be there?”
“It’s a lovely island. Dry deserts. Mountains. Beautiful beaches with white sand. Ancient trees. And all kinds of wildlife creatures. Lovely natives.”
“And what do those coins signify?” Mrs. DuPont asked.
Dr. Brooks’s smile was slight—the expression of a man ready to lure his quarry.
A good salesman never answered a question immediately when there was a story to tell.
“The natives of the island are very spiritual. They believe in ody, or magical charms or talismans. I was fortunate enough to speak to a Malagasy elder who believed in Zazavavindrano, or water spirits. I held one of these magical coins from the sea and wished for a long life.”
“Do you believe your wish will be granted?” Mrs. DuPont asked.
“Who knows? These magical realms and their creatures can be as dangerous as they are helpful. I suppose it comes down to how the winds are blowing that day.”
“You don’t really believe these stories, do you?” I asked.
“For so many stories to persist all over the world, I can’t but wonder if there’s merit to them.”
He handed one coin to Mrs. DuPont and one to me. “Their beliefs aren’t far from the Gullah traditions.”
“Gullah?” William asked.
“Descendants from Africa who live in the Carolinas and Florida now. Some of their peoples have a water goddess named Yemaja. She’s the mother of all river and ocean creatures.”
“And here we are on the Oceanus,” I said. “Namesake of a Greek Titan and the father of the Oceanids, or river gods.”
Dr. Brooks raised his glass in appreciation of the detail. “Ah, Miss Stein, you’re a Greek scholar.”
“Not really.” My tone softened with a sigh. I was charmed.
“How does one find a water creature?” Mrs. DuPont asked.
Dr. Brooks’s eyes brightened as he sipped his wine. “I’ve heard the natives leave gifts on the bank of a river or lake. If they appreciate your gift, then you might be blessed.”
“How so?”
“The ocean is a dangerous place. Never hurts to have help just in case.”
“But you said they can also be dangerous,” I said.
Dr. Brooks nodded. “I would think these gods wouldn’t appreciate humans sailing their waters.”