Duke of a Gilded Age (26 page)

“Nobody can hear us,” Wesley said. “They’re all on deck.”

“There’s nothing for it, then. We’ll have to break the door down.”

Wesley and Stephen used their shoulders as battering rams. After several painful minutes, the hinges began to give way. At last the door crashed to the ground and they emerged from the closet into more darkness.

“I suppose the generator finally went out,” Stephen said. “More bad luck.”

Wesley peered across the room, where he discerned a glow. “I see some light.”

“I see it, too.”

The ship rolled to the one side just then, lying almost flat in the water. Stephen was thrown into Wesley and they both ended up on the floor. Nearby, the sound of breaking glass was followed closely by the strong odor of alcohol. The ship finally righted itself, accompanied by a cacophony of ominous creaks. Wesley and Stephen got to their feet.

“Do you smell that? We must still be in the saloon,” Stephen said. “And if the ship experiences another roll like the one we just had, it will sink for certain.”

Wesley could hear the tension in Stephen’s voice.

“We’ll be on the
City of New York
before that happens,” he replied.

Wesley crept forward in the dark until he encountered one of the swivel chairs anchored next to the dining table. As he felt his way across the room, Wesley felt compelled to make conversation…if only to fill the silence.

“Terrible waste of fine scotch, from the smell of it,” he called out.

“An utter tragedy, separate and beyond the loss of the ship,” Stephen replied from the opposite side of the table.

“I must tell you, I’ve never been stuffed into a closet before.”

“Nor have I. An ignominious end to a heroic escapade,” Stephen replied. “But it’ll be the worse for the rascals who put us there, when we get hold of them.”

“Indeed. I take umbrage at being savagely attacked and left for dead, don’t you?”

“Umbrage of the highest sort,” Stephan agreed. “Umbrage supreme, I think.”

They left the saloon and tore up the stairs to the deck of the ship. When they emerged into the open air, Wesley and Stephen stood there in shock. Light from the kerosene lamps revealed the deck was clear of people, the
Apollo
had been abandoned completely, and they were on their own. Wesley repeated a few Italian curse words out loud.

“This explains why nobody came to help,” Stephen said.

Although panic had seized him by the throat, Wesley forced himself to stay calm.

“We can lower a lifeboat into the water and row to the
City of New York
,” he said. “Between the two of us, we’re strong enough to manage.”

“Right.”

Wesley and Stephen each grabbed a kerosene lamp off its hook and went in search of a lifeboat. A quick examination of the
Apollo
revealed all the longboats had been deployed. Stephen stared at Wesley, stricken.

“We’re dead men,” he said.

“Look, there has to be
something
buoyant we can use as a raft,” Wesley said, desperate. “Perhaps we can lash a few doors together and float until a ship passes by and picks us up.”

“The
City of New York
is long gone, Wesley. Just how long do you think we’d last in that water? For heaven’s sake, I nearly froze to death in the longboat as it was!”

“They’ll notice we’re missing and come back for us.”

“Surely everyone but the crew has turned in by now. By morning, the
City of New York
will be a hundred miles from here and we’ll have drowned.”

“Belle won’t have gone to bed,” Wesley said. “She’s waiting for us.”

“Quit being so damned…hopeful!” Stephen snapped. “We’re done for. Even if they wanted to look for us, we’ve no generator. Without lights, we may as well be invisible!”

“The
Apollo
might not sink after all,” Wesley said. “It seems like the waves have diminished.”

A huge wave broke over the side of the ship at that moment and sprayed both men with frigid sea foam. As he dried his face with his sleeve, a crooked grin crept across Stephen’s lips.

“You’re right, Wesley. The ocean has grown calm and the ship won’t sink. It’s also possible a dirigible airship flown by leprechauns will pass overhead and pluck us off the
Apollo
. Anything could happen.”

For some strange reason, Wesley grinned back. “That’s the spirit. You never know, perhaps an iceberg will happen by. We could jump on and ride it all the way to South America.”

“Could be. Or a pod of whales might offer to give us a lift to Greenland.”

Wesley and Stephen dissolved into hysterical laughter.

“Let’s…let’s go find those cork jackets and put them on,” Wesley said finally.

Stephen looked at him, askance. “More optimism?”

“No.” Wesley swallowed hard. “It’s just that should anyone come searching for us, they’ll have a better chance of finding our bodies if they’re afloat. I’m thinking of my mother.”

Stephen averted his eyes. “Yes. Agreed.”

“And while we’re in the saloon, perhaps we can find an unbroken bottle of scotch to keep us warm.”

Stephen slapped Wesley on the back. “Now
that’s
a reason to be optimistic.”

Chapter Seventeen

Going Away Party

F
ROM
T
HE
M
OMENT
W
ESLEY
A
ND
S
TEPHEN
departed the
City of New York
, Belle kept a vigil. Similarly, Cavendish paced up and down the promenade like a caged badger. Mr. Oakhurst pleaded with his daughter to go inside to get warm or to turn in for the night, but she refused.

“No, Papa. I need to make certain Wesley is safe,” she said. “Mr. Van Eyck too. I can sleep all day tomorrow.”

Defeated, her father brought up a heavy coat from her cabin and made her put it on. Louise helped with refugees as long as she could, but finally wilted with the lateness of the hour. She took a nap in a deck chair near the staging area.

“Annabelle, you must promise to wake me as soon as Stephen and Wesley return,” she said before closing her eyes.

“Of course,” Belle said.

The increasingly choppy waves fomented a general resurgence of
mal de mer
. Many stalwart passengers helping to receive the
Apollo
refugees were obliged to retire in misery. Carl, Horatio, Stacy, and Eva lent their assistance until Mrs. Stenger sent them to bed. Mrs. Van Eyck and Lady Frederic sat in deck chairs, wrapped in coats and blankets. They stole catnaps here and there, waking up with each new batch of refugees. After midnight, however, neither woman could keep her eyes open.

The fourth longboat disgorged its passengers, and Belle noted a few men among the mix.
They’ve evacuated all the women and children now, so Wesley and Stephen should be on the next boat
, she thought with some excitement. But the next three boats arrived without them, and she began to be impatient.
Why hasn’t the captain of the
Apollo
sent them on? Surely he doesn’t need their help any longer, does he?

Belle caught the arm of a newly arrived
Apollo
crewman as he crossed toward a rolling cart laden with fresh coffee, hot cider, and chocolate.

“Excuse me, sir, with how many lifeboats is your ship equipped?” she asked.

“Eight, miss, and each one full to bursting.”

“Thank you.”

Moments later, Mr. Oakhurst draped a blanket around Belle’s shoulders. She gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you, Papa.”

“The saloon is serving light refreshments until the last soul has been rescued,” he said. “Go downstairs and get something to eat.”

She shook her head. “There’s only one more lifeboat remaining, Papa. I can wait until then.”

Mr. Oakhurst stared out over the water. “I understand how you feel. I can’t rest until they are safe either.”

Belle glanced toward Cavendish, who was slumped on a deck chair with his head in his hands. The man’s ordinarily pristine attire was rumpled and his hair awry.

“We’re not the only worried ones, it seems,” she said.

“I think His Grace will be touched when he hears of his valet’s loyalty.”

A sudden surge of moisture blurred Belle’s vision. “Wesley Parker has the uncanny ability to make people care about him, Papa, whether they want to or not.”

“Are you speaking of your personal feelings?”

She was glad her blush could be explained by the blustery wind.

“I-I only meant he’ll make a good duke. His servants and tenants will find him a vast deal more amiable than his predecessor.”

“Hmm. True.” Mr. Oakhurst paused. “I’ve developed a high regard for the lad myself.”

Just then the last longboat appeared, emerging from the increasingly heavy fog that had formed after the storm passed. Belle roused Louise, and then returned to the railing to watch for Wesley and Stephen. Louise, bleary, crossed over to her mother and Lady Frederic to shake them awake.

As the longboat came alongside the
City of New York
, Belle peered down at the passengers. Despite the darkness and distance, she picked out the captain of the
Apollo
by his hat and uniform. She saw neither Wesley nor Stephen at first, so she moved closer for a better view and scanned each man one by one.
This can’t be right.
As a tall swarthy Italian was hauled up from the lifeboat, Belle checked the faces again…and then a third time. Her heart stopped and she clutched her father’s sleeve.

“Papa, he’s not there! I’ve looked, and Wesley’s not there! Mr. Van Eyck isn’t there either. What has happened?”

Belle’s knees buckled, but her father caught her around the waist and led her to a deckchair.

“Are you sure, Annabelle? Perhaps he came aboard before and you didn’t notice with all the confusion?”

Tears streamed down her face, but Belle didn’t bother to wipe them away.

“Ask Cavendish! Do you think he would be out here if Wesley had returned?”

The valet had nodded off, but he came awake at the sound of his name. He blinked and looked around. “What?”

“He’s not here, Cavendish,” Belle cried in anguish. “The last lifeboat has come and Wesley isn’t on it!”

Lady Frederic, Mrs. Van Eyck, and Louise overheard and stared at Belle in utter shock. White-faced, Cavendish rushed to the railing to see for himself. At that moment, the captain of the
Apollo
stepped from the winch onto the deck. His waiting crew gave him a salute, but Belle didn’t bother with formalities. She sprang from the deckchair and launched herself into his path.

“Where are Wesley Parker and Stephen Van Eyck, the boys who came to help you?” she demanded.

The captain was bewildered. “I sent them back after the fourth boat, miss. They must be here. Have you checked in their cabins?”

“You left them behind!” Belle’s voice rose in volume until it was almost a scream. “They helped you and you left them to
die
.”

Wesley held up a kerosene lamp to illuminate the wreckage in the bar. “Aha.” He wrapped his fingers around a bottle of amber liquid and held it up for Stephen to see. “This scotch is older than we are.”

“Bring it.”

Stephen slipped a bottle of champagne in one pocket of his Mackintosh jacket and a couple of drinking glasses in the other. “I hate to drink on an empty stomach, even one covered with cork,” he said, patting the vest tied around his middle. “Let’s find the galley. There has to be something to eat on this boat.”