If the so-called Blue Danube was brown, then the Black Sea was definitely blue; dark, deep blue—my paint-box would have called it Prussian. As we stood on the dockside waiting for the ferry to start loading, it was sparkling like a jewel. The sky was clear, except for some small, fluffy clouds, the May sun was warm, and we were all in good spirits. Once we had crossed this sea we should embark into the real unknown. The rest of the journey, apart from a short journey up the Don, would be overland.
The gangplank was lowered and we climbed aboard with the other passengers. Some of them had brought their own food and would sleep on deck, as we had done when we crossed the English Channel, but the cost of a cabin was outweighed by the extra comfort. Or so we thought . . .
We had booked two doubles, Toby and I to share one, the men the other, but when we located them they were far from ideal. They held two, short, tiered bunks, both tiny and hard, with one thin blanket; there was also a hook for hanging clothes, a hanging lantern and a deeply recessed wash-basin and jug, which looked faintly ominous. A small porthole gave a restricted view, and Toby and I found it difficult to squeeze past each other in the confined space. In the end the one who wasn't washing, changing or looking out of the porthole had to tuck their feet up on one of the bunks.
It was complicated by the fact that there was no room for our haversacks or suitcases, which had to be stored in the hold, so everything we would need for the two days of sailing had to be extracted and stowed away somewhere. The Eg we kept with us, plus night wear, washing-things and our cloaks, but when we went to check on Danny and Claude we found the latter complaining that there was no room for his legs and Danny swearing at his clothes hook, which had just fallen off the wall. On every available space on the ferry were printed, on yellowed, faded paper, in English, French, German and Russian the Rules and Regulations. Breakfast, luncheon and supper would be served in the dining-saloon at—and there was then a list of "bells," which repeated ringing was apparently the way sailors measured their time. Each meal was the equivalent of two shillings per head. No-one was allowed in the engine-room or on the bridge, otherwise passengers were allowed the run of the ship. Canvas chairs were available for those who wished to sit out on deck. In inclement weather all would be expected to remain below, deck-passengers in the saloon. In the case of several blasts from the ship's sirens, we were all to assemble on deck, prepared to board one of the two lifeboats.
From the elevation of the deck we looked out at the calm blue sea, the mountains in the distance, and wondered what all the fuss was about. The weather seemed set fair, the air was balmy, our fellow-passengers seemed cheerful enough and the sailors unconcerned. Rough weather, alarm signals and lifeboats could safely be ignored, I reckoned.
"I do hope it won't be choppy," said Claude apprehensively.
"Of course it won't! The sea's like a mill-pond."
"All right for you, Sophy. You didn't get sick last time." The "Miss" had finally disappeared. I didn't mind.
"And you won't this time," I comforted him. "It's all in the mind, you know: think sick and you'll be sick."
"Up and down, up and down, up and down," intoned Danny mischievously, suiting actions to the words. "Up and down, and—"
"Shut up!" said Claude, clutching his stomach.
"Give over, Danny!" I said. "Or you'll catch yourself with your own shenanigans."
"Just listen to the girl! And isn't she catching on to the Irish just like crabs to a piece of bacon rind!" The very mention of food made Claude look anxious again, as Danny knew it would. "Now I remember when I was a wee one, and I had a stomach upset, Mam used to make me sick by tying a piece of bacon rind to a length of string and—"
"Come on Claude," I said firmly. "You can walk me round the deck." I glanced back to where Danny was standing with a huge grin on his face. "Don't forget you will be sharing a very small cabin, and the only toilet is way down the corridor, in case Claude feels . . . unwell."
The smile was wiped off his face as if it had been sponged.
The meals were adequate, if uninteresting, consisting mainly of cold cuts, pickles, hard-boiled eggs, black bread and preserves, with weak coffee. On that first day the steamer chugged across a smooth sea, and gradually the coastline receded behind us. Up on deck the engines didn't sound too bad, mainly a sort of throbbing beneath one's feet, but both in the dining-saloon and more markedly in the cabins the constant clatter and thrust of the machines could give the more sensitive a racking headache. Of course we all knew it was only for two nights, but what with the noise and heat below decks and the inconvenience of the tiny cabins by the following morning we were all short-tempered, and the thought of another night in the same conditions was daunting.
At least no-one had been sick . . .
We spent most of the day on deck, enjoying the warmth and sea-breezes. Now at the mid-point of our voyage, there was no sight of land, except for the occasional smudge of smoke, one of which heralded the crossing of the ferry's sister-ship to port of us. There were a couple of small fishing boats in the distance, but the real excitement of the day was provided by the passengers crowding to the rail to watch some great fishes diving and surfacing again alongside, like giant needles tacking the hems of the water. There were eight or nine of them, it was difficult to count, as their black backs gleamed for only a moment before they plunged back down again.
"What are they?" asked Toby excitedly, leaning over the rail so far I felt constrained to grab his belt.
One of the passengers, a well-dressed man with a fair moustache, answered his question, in rather drawly English.
"Why, they are dolphins, my boy, and they are mammals, not fish. They are sociable creatures, and often follow ships in and out of harbour, no-one is quite sure why."
"I wouldn't have expected them here," I said without thinking, realising too late that the gentleman might think me too forward for joining in the conversation without an introduction. "I thought they lived in warmer seas. It must be very cold here in winter."
"Oh, in winter they go back to the Mediterranean," said the gentleman, raising his hat politely. "The Black Sea isn't landlocked, unlike the Caspian. To the south it flows out near Constantinople." He bowed. "May I introduce myself? Archie McCall at your service, on leave from my regiment." He didn't say which one. "Just an idle tourist, I'm afraid."
He looked at me interrogatively and although I had no wish to involve us with a stranger, it would have been bad manners not to reciprocate.
"Miss Lee, and my—my brother, Tobias."
He smiled, smoothing his moustache. "On holiday, like myself?"
I opened my mouth to agree, but Toby forestalled me.
"Oh, no," he said seriously. He was still watching the dolphins, but I could see the mischievous look on his face. "We're on a sort of pilgrimage."
"Pilgrimage?"
"Yes. We're going to China with a Buddhist to look for dragons!" And with that he turned and grabbed my hand. "C'mon sister dear, let's see if there are any dolphins on the starboard side!" But once out of earshot of the bemused Mr. McCall, he turned on me. "What are you always telling me? Don't never—"
"Ever . . ."
"Don't ever talk to strangers! That's what you've always said, and what are you doin'? Chattin' up the first likely gent who eyes you up!"
"I wasn't `chatting up' anyone!" I was amazed at his vehemence. "It was you he was talking to, about the dolphins."
"Just an excuse, sister dear! He's been following you around looking for a chance ever since we came on board. Last night at supper he was swooning over every mouthful you took."
I was surprised. "I never noticed . . ."
"You was too busy gobbling that cabbage-stuff."
"Toby! I don't gobble!"
"Well, perhaps not. But you know what I mean."
"No, I do not! I do not invite attentions from anyone, male or female, and I never have . . ."
And this was entirely true. Not that there had been any males at boarding-school, and when I had come to London to teach I was just another shabby little school-marm who spent nine hours a day in the class-room and the rest either in her lodgings or else in decorous visits to an art gallery, concert or museum, and who would look twice at such? As far as being out alone in the metropolis, I never left the school in the dark without Toby's escort, to discourage unwelcome attentions. In the summer I kept to the more populous ways and scurried along with my head down, finding it easy to blend in with my surroundings like the blandest of wallpaper. That was why Miss Moffat's strange behaviour had so upset me.
"Well, this gent's been following us round all day. And he's got his eye on you."
"You're wrong, Toby—"
"No, I ain't! He's comin' over here now . . . You just leave him alone. He's bad news. Don't encourage him. Don't even pass the time of day . . ."
But I had had enough. I wasn't going to let a child—and that was all Toby was, after all—dictate to me whom I should or shouldn't talk to. I was a responsible adult and could trust my own judgment to choose my own acquaintances. Besides, after the exclusive company of Claude, Danny and Toby, it would be nice to hold a conversation with somebody different. And if he proved to be a bore, then we were reaching our destination tomorrow, and that would be the last I should see of him.
After all, I was free to do with my life as I wished, once this expedition was over. I could marry a tramp, live in sin with an artist in a Parisian attic, join a harem, live as a gipsy, settle down to a respectable spinsterhood. Freedom of choice was an intoxicating thought, so when Mr. McCall approached me again I accepted the offer of his arm for a turn about the deck, ignoring Toby's furious scowls.
He was an agreeable companion, telling me of his recent trip to Australia, where he had studied closely the strange marsupials—kangaroo, koala, and wallaby that I had seen pictures of, but never come across even in a zoo. He also spoke of the Aborigines, the primitive natives of that continent, but I was rather taken aback by his attitude towards them, dismissing them as feckless, dirty and backward, fit only to be driven away into the bush.
"But surely those people, who were there before the settlers arrived, should be given the consideration they deserve?" I asked rather more warmly than I should. "I myself contribute regularly to the Mission Society, and our members believe most strongly that these children of God—and this includes the native Indians of North America and the Negroes of Africa—should be treated like any other member of the human race. After all, it is only ignorance that restricts them from becoming useful members of society, and ignorance can be cured by education."
"Your sentiments do you credit, Miss Lee!" he declared. "I am amazed that such a pretty and demure young lady should be so emancipated! You are to be congratulated on your humane outlook."
I blushed with pleasure. It was comforting that such a widely travelled gentleman should be willing to listen to my views. I felt quite exhilarated, and glanced up at him with gratitude, being reminded, unfortunately, of Red Riding Hood, for his teeth, when he smiled, were rather large . . . But he had called me pretty.
"I am so glad to have made your acquaintance, Miss Lee. It is rare to meet someone who is both charming and erudite."
If possible, my blushes grew even deeper, but I averted my gaze, and hoped my bonnet hid the most tell-tale of them.
"You are too kind, sir. Any erudition I have acquired is entirely due to my profession as a school-teacher, I am sure."
"A school-marm? I might have guessed." I glanced up at his face, fearing disappointment or ridicule, but it was perfectly bland. "But I cannot guess what such a talented young lady is doing so far from home and during term-time too . . . ?"
It was a clear invitation to declare my true mission, but I side-stepped his enquiry with a non-committal answer.
"Like yourself, Mr. McCall, I am taking some leave."
"With your brother? I believe you have two other companions as well?"
"Mr. Cumberbatch and Mr. Duveen are escorting us, yes."
I was becoming a little annoyed by his questions, but as if sensing this he turned the conversation to other matters. At luncheon I found the attentive Mr. McCall on one side and a scowling and uncooperative Toby on the other, who constantly tried to monopolise the conversation, and when that didn't succeed, exhibited dreadful table manners, for which I had to reprimand him, thus gaining his objective of my attention.
Afterwards Mr. McCall commented on our relationship. "Your brother . . . He doesn't seem—quite in tune with you?"
How to answer this time? "He's . . . he's not exactly my brother. He's my ward, although we enjoy a brother/sister relationship."
"Ah," he nodded. "That explains a great deal. A different upbringing obviously. A special pupil, no doubt?"
I nodded too, and changed the subject. Time for a question on my part. "How long do you expect to be away from your regiment, sir? I do not think you mentioned the name?"
He looked at me and mentioned a town: Aldershot, which he could see meant nothing to me, and then a regiment, which meant even less. Shortly afterwards I excused myself to take a siesta, pleading a poor nights rest, and down below I found a furious Toby drumming his heels on the top bunk.
"I tol' you not to get too friendly with that—that—"
"That'll do! I don't want any of your back-street obscenities, nor do I want any criticism of my behaviour! I do what I please with my life, and I might remind you that you are only here on sufferance anyway!"
To my dismay the child that was still in Toby burst into tears and I moved at once to comfort and hug him, chastising myself for being so harsh and unfeeling. A quarter-hour later we were friends again, but he was still adamant in his dislike for Mr. McCall. We agreed to differ, especially as I reminded him that we docked tomorrow and would probably never see the man again.
"And now you must promise not to spoil the rest of the day with scowls and anti-social behaviour. Understood?"
He nodded, but I wasn't convinced. However he seemed to be as good as his word, going out of his way to be pleasant at supper-time and not making the usual objections when I sent him to have a good wash and bed at ten. As I left Mr. McCall put a hand on my arm.
"A little stroll around the deck later on? We can round off a pleasant acqaintanceship by watching the moon rise . . ."
I demurred. "Such behaviour is not possible on our short acquaintance, Mr. McCall—"
"Miss Lee, we are just ships that pass in the night . . ." Now where had I heard that before? "Why lose the chance to exchange a few pleasantries, an episode to press like a flower in the Book of Life?" He was certainly mixing his metaphors!
I'm afraid he took my quickly suppressed smile as encouragement.
"Come, Miss Lee—Sophy—have pity on a lonely bachelor who desires no more than a pleasant memory to carry back to his exclusively masculine and lonely life in barracks . . ."
At that moment, poised between yea and nay, I was rescued by Danny, who reminded me I had promised a hand of cards, so I had no chance to give Mr. McCall a definite answer. However, several hands into the game, I was surprised to learn that both Claude and Danny had noticed his attentions.
"Shouldn't pay too much attention to that chap," drawled the former, apropos of nothing in particular. "Not the right sort at all. . . . My trick, I believe?"
"Sure and begorra and you're right!" added Danny, studying his cards with a frown. "Wouldn't trust the beggar as far as I could throw him." He had been drinking again, and in consequence was losing. "He's a smooth-talking rogue, so he is!"
"It takes one to know one," I snapped. "My game!" and I threw down the three remaining trumps. "And now I am going to my cabin to read. Goodnight, gentlemen!" and off I flounced indignantly. First Toby and then them! What right had they . . . If I had stopped to consider I might have realised that they were trying to shield me from any trouble, but I was beyond reasoning. The disadvantage to me lay in the fact that I had had to grow up too quickly, make decisions before I had the experience to judge their effect beforehand, and had mislaid something that was essential to a young woman in my position: feminine caution.
In the cabin Toby was apparently asleep on the top bunk, so I took off my bonnet, shawl and money-belt, loosened my hair and lay down on the bunk, prepared to read another chapter of Westward Ho! but after a while the lantern started swaying to and fro erratically and getting up to peer out of the open porthole, the glitter of waves from the navigation lights seemed to be rising and falling more energetically than earlier. Perhaps we were in for a storm.
I could have gone down the corridor to the bathroom and had a good wash, then tucked myself up, but I didn't feel sleepy. In fact I felt more wide awake than I had all day. I shouldn't have had that siesta earlier. Perhaps a turn on deck would settle me down; it would be nice to get a breath of fresh air.
Without trying to analyse my decision or make excuses I picked up my shawl, turned down the lamp and made for the door—
"Where are you going?"
"I thought you were asleep!" I said, nearly jumping out of my skin. "Just for a short stroll on deck, that's all."
"You're going to meet that man!"
"Of course I'm not! I have no arrangement to meet Mr. McCall. You should know me better than that."
I turned to the door again, but there was another voice.
"Be careful out there; the wind is rising and the deck could be slippery with spray."
"I'll be careful," I said. "Thank you, Ky-Lin."
I closed the door, but his voice came muffled through the panelling. "Remember the ring; remember what it tells you . . ."
Why the ring, I wondered, as I walked down the corridor and climbed the companionway to the deck, having to clutch at the rail as I did so. I peered in at the lounge: all was quiet, a late foursome of cards and an old man dozing in a corner the only occupants. No sign of Mr. McCall—not that I was looking for him, of course.
The card-players finished their game, the steward came round with offers of coffee and brandy, but I declined. A gust of wind rattled the doors of the lounge: if I was to take a turn around the deck, I had better hurry. As I rose I felt a twinge in my finger, and looked down at the ring, so much a part of me now that I scarcely ever noticed it was there. Did that signal mean that I shouldn't go out on deck, or perhaps that I should be extra careful?
No further warnings, so I mentally shrugged my shoulders; just a quick foray. But outside the wind caught my shawl, almost tearing it from my shoulders, and loosened my hair still further so it lost its last pin and streamed back from my face. I made my way to the rail with a shiver, for the air was suddenly colder. Below me white caps were crowning the waves, and the bluff bows of the ferry were throwing up spray as they dipped and rose on the swell. I pulled my shawl tighter and knotted it behind: I had had enough. Sleepy or no, I would be better off in the cabin, but I had to cross a third of the deck to reach the way down and didn't want my hands encumbered.
As I inched my way along the rail towards safety, I found the ring was itching and throbbing on my finger; I paused for a moment to rub my hand against my skirt, and suddenly a pair of arms slid around me from behind, fingers slipped familiarly up towards my breasts and I caught the scent of bay-rum hair oil, brandy and cigars.
"Well met, my little school-marm," said a voice in my ear.
"Mr. McCall! Let me go this instant, sir! What on earth do you mean by this—this extraordinary behaviour?"
Twisting away from his grasp, I tried to reach the doors of the lounge, the nearest refuge, but he caught my arm and dragged me back towards the rail, pressing his body against mine in a most suggestive manner.
"Oh, come on, Sophy! Don't pretend that you don't want this! You've been giving me the nod all day—"
I freed one arm and aimed a slap at his face, which he easily evaded. "Mr. McCall! I demand that you—"
"Call me Archie, m'dear . . ." and he bent his head and attempted to kiss me, but I wrenched my head aside, at the same time trying to push him away, but I had underestimated the strength of a man all fired up as he was. My struggles only seemed to bring us closer together, and I realised that this was exciting him still further.
I opened my mouth to scream, but realised I would have no chance of being heard. By now the cumbersome ferry was rearing and plunging in the increasing storm, the wind was whistling through the wire struts of the rigging, and smoke from the two stacks was being whipped away to starboard. There was a light up on the bridge, but the windows on this side were shuttered and my struggles would not be seen.
How I wished I had never come out here! How I wished I had listened to Toby, Claude and Danny! I knew, however, that this was mostly my fault; I had, however innocently, encouraged this monster to believe I had an interest in him. I had to admit I had enjoyed his earlier attentions, being both flattered and intrigued, stupid, naive young woman that I was! Now all I wanted was to gain the safety of my cabin without harm.
"Leave me alone!"
"Oh no, my little temptress! Not now I've got you where I want you . . . You're going to deliver the goods, I promise you! If we go down to one of the lifeboats we'll be nice and snug inside . . . That's right! Give us a bit of a struggle: I like a girl with spirit . . ." As he spoke he was dragging me down towards the stern of the ship, his hands gripping me fiercely.
The ring on my finger was throbbing really hard now, and I remembered Ky-Lin's words: could it help me now, when I hadn't heeded its earlier warnings?
The ship gave a sudden lurch, as if the captain had decided to change direction to ride out the storm, and my attacker and I were both thrown over onto the deck, now slippery with spray. I tried to roll away, but in a moment he had followed and thrown his weight on top of me. One arm was across my throat, near choking me, while his other arm slipped down to my rucked-up skirt and his hand groped upwards. Instinctively I brought a knee sharply into his groin and he rolled off me with a groan and a couple of obscenities.
I tried to get to my feet, but the now-slanting deck prevented this, so I started to crawl towards the rail. To my horror I saw Archie McCall scrambling after me, his face twisted with fury. I grabbed the rail with one hand, but a moment later a fist smashed into my face and I lost my hold. The ship gave another lurch and I found I was sliding under the rail. With scrabbling fingers I tried, terrified, to cling to whatever I could: at one stage I had hold of Mr. McCall's sleeve, but I couldn't hold on. To his credit, once he realised I was in real danger, he stretched out a hand to me, but it was too late.
The last thing I saw before I fell over the side was a night-shirted figure skidding across the deck towards us, and a small object seeming to fly through the air. There was a moment when, my mouth open in a silent scream, I seemed to be suspended in mid-air, then I hit the water with a thump that knocked the breath from my lungs, and I went down, down, down . . .