A Thimbleful of Hope Page 15

  ‘Arvin, wait for me,’ Violet called, but he didn’t look at her while other men pushed and shoved and clambered into the boat. No one offered her a place and her husband didn’t appear to have heard her. She caught sight of the glint of metal through the darkness as he removed the chains from the chest, then started to stow its contents – small packages of papers, she guessed – into the pockets of his greatcoat.

  ‘What about the ladies?’ asked the sailor who was at the bow, struggling to reach the lowering gear. ‘Gentlemen, you must allow the ladies on to the boat.’

  ‘We will not be moved,’ the men said, looking away.

  ‘If you won’t get out, you must sit in the thwarts at least, the same number each side or you will capsize the boat,’ Captain Bennett joined in as the sailor reached the lowering gear at the bow, and another took hold of the rope towards the stern. ‘The ladies will take the next one. Hurry! We are wasting time.’

  ‘Please remain seated,’ the second sailor shouted. ‘Sit down!’

  ‘What do you think we’re doing?’ came a yell back. ‘Get on with it. We are frozen to the bone.’

  ‘Arvin!’ Violet shouted again. ‘You are leaving me behind.’ The water below was black, a monster lying in wait for its prey, its chest rising and falling. ‘Somebody help me!’ She stared towards her husband, making out his shadowy silhouette in the gloom. He would be worried sick when he found out that she hadn’t made it on to the boat with him.

  ‘Lower the boat!’ The sailor at the bow put the line one turn round the cleat and slowly slackened it off, so the lifeboat dropped a few inches. ‘Is all well?’ he shouted as a fracas broke out aft.

  ‘I can’t sit here with you elbowing me in the face,’ one of the passengers shouted. He stood up and clambered along the lifeboat, pushing the sailor aside, giving him no option but to let go of the line. The rope slipped through the cleat, the boat tilted then dropped at an angle. For an agonising moment it held, but suddenly the rope flew up and the boat tipped aft, sending the passengers and their bags tumbling backwards and sideways through the air, splashing and crashing into the icy water.

  ‘No!’ Violet screamed and pressed herself against the railings, searching for any sign of her husband as the water foamed and swirled around the thrashing men. ‘Arvin!’

  Some of the crew were in the water, helping those who weren’t able to swim to the upturned lifeboat. The sailors who remained on the Samphire threw down ropes so they could clamber back on board, where they stood shivering and waiting for the steward to hand out blankets.

  ‘There’s somebody left in the sea!’ someone shouted.

  Was it her husband? Violet ran along the deck to find one of the sailors and William throwing lifebuoys towards a figure disguised by the swell and the darkness of the night. Even the moon seemed to have taken against them, hiding once more behind a veil of fog.

  William took off his jacket and tied a running bowline around his waist. The sailor did the same before they dived together and swam across to the man, securing a rope around him and creating a harness to tow him back towards the boat.

  Was it Arvin? She couldn’t be certain as the man struggled to make his way back, gasping and spluttering through the swell. She hung on to the rail, willing him to reach the side of the hull. He made it and the crew began to haul him up by the rope, but as he rose out of the sea, his body jerked, slipped from the harness and plunged back into the water.

  Violet cried out.

  William dived under, and after what seemed like an age, he resurfaced, struggling to hold the man’s head above water as he reattached a rope to his arm, so the crew could make a second attempt at hauling him in, but it was too late. His limp body collapsed in a shadowy heap on the deck nearby. His lifeless eyes stared at the night sky.

  ‘He was too heavy.’ William hawked and spat as he scrambled back on board. ‘His boots filled with water.’

  ‘Turn your eyes away, miss,’ the steward said kindly. ‘A drowned man is not a sight for a lady’s eyes.’

  But she was compelled to keep looking. Was it her husband?

  ‘That’s Monsieur Duclercq, I do believe,’ someone said. ‘He’s a merchant, a regular traveller.’

  ‘There’s another!’ the steward shouted. ‘Man overboard! Ten yards aft.’

  At first, Violet could only see the whites of the man’s eyes and the reflections of the sailors’ lanterns in the water. It wasn’t until a beam of light caught the man’s face that she recognised him.

  ‘Arvin! Don’t give up,’ she shouted as he rose to take a breath before sinking underwater. ‘Keep swimming. Somebody will come with a rope.’

  The Samphire drifted back towards him.

  With their hair slicked back and grim determination etched on their faces, William and the sailor dived in for a second time and swam slowly towards Arvin as he floundered and thrashed in the water.

  ‘You must take off your coat, sir.’ She heard William’s voice caught up and carried on the wind.

  ‘I will not!’ Arvin disappeared for a full minute before resurfacing.

  ‘Hold on to the rope then and I’ll tow you in!’

  Did he not understand a simple instruction? she asked herself, as Arvin threw his arms around William’s neck, dragging him down again with him. They were fighting the sea and the icy chill, fighting for their lives and now they were fighting each other.

  ‘Unhand me …’ She heard William’s strangulated cry and saw Captain Bennett leap into the sea to go to the engineer’s aid, but Arvin was having none of it, and all Violet could do was pray that all four men would make it back to safety.

  Chapter Eleven

  Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

  The crew were treading water, staring as one at a patch of sea, waiting for Arvin to reappear at the surface. After the longest minute of Violet’s life, they turned with one accord and swam back to the Samphire without him.

  ‘You must go back,’ she wanted to shout, but she knew from the fear on their pale faces and their chattering teeth that there was no hope. If they stayed in the water any longer, they would all die.

  The crew pulled William up to the deck. He looked straight at her, shivering under his sodden shirt.

  ‘I’m sorry, missus. I did my best, but he wouldn’t listen. He wouldn’t take off his coat and in his panic to stay afloat, he put his hands around my neck, half strangling me so I couldn’t catch my breath. If I hadn’t fought him off, he would have drowned both of us. He wasn’t thinking straight – the cold must have got to him …’

  What other reason could there be? She felt as if her ribcage had been stoved in like the Samphire’s bow. Hot tears ran down her cheeks as she stared wildly across the water, lost and not knowing what to do, while the captain and the other sailor were helped on to the deck, gasping and blue with cold.

  She was only vaguely aware of the second lifeboat being launched and of an argument and raised voices over whether there was room for the mail sacks.

  ‘How many passengers are left on board?’ the captain said as it drifted away from the Samphire, the sea having calmed since the fateful collision.

  ‘Just the ladies.’ William approached, with a blanket around his shoulders. ‘This is a poor show, a very poor show indeed.’

  ‘All the gentlemen have taken to the cutters and lifeboats, leaving us without means of escape,’ the steward said.

  ‘It’s shocking. I’m ashamed of my sex,’ William said.

  ‘You shouldn’t be. You and the captain and the crew who remain here to look after us are true gentlemen. The others …’ Violet’s voice trailed off. She couldn’t find the words to describe the men who had abandoned them, more concerned with the fate of their luggage and how they would reach Calais than saving lives.

  ‘Can I do anything for you?’ he asked her.

  ‘Nothing,’ she said faintly. Thanks to an unfortunate series of events, she had lost Arvin. If it hadn’t been for the chest coming from Lond
on, they wouldn’t have been on the late mail packet; if the mist hadn’t fallen, the other ship would have seen the Samphire; if Arvin had waited for her they could have boarded the other lifeboat.

  ‘I’m sorry … was that your husband?’ She turned to find a young woman with tears in her eyes, touching her shoulder with her gloved hand. ‘My name’s Beth. I can’t find my governess, Miss Ayres – she was accompanying me to Lyons. I was wondering if anyone had seen her.’

  ‘I’ll help you look,’ Violet said. ‘Hold my hand – we will give each other courage.’

  ‘I’m ever so grateful, missus. What a night, eh? I tell you, I will never travel by boat again. We must beg the Prime Minister to make a tunnel under the sea to France.’

  ‘I think that’s rather ambitious.’ Violet recalled Arvin talking of the very same thing, and then she remembered that he was missing. Was he dead? she wondered, her heart filling with grief.

  ‘I don’t know if we will get home – we are drifting,’ Beth observed.

  Violet squeezed her hand. ‘We must be brave,’ she said, even though she felt anything but. ‘The crew are doing their best to get us back to Dover.’

  ‘Where is our Junior Engineer?’ somebody called.

  Violet glanced to where William was finding chairs and brandy for the ladies on deck. He had been a hero, determined and indefatigable.

  ‘Who wants to know?’ he called back.

  ‘You’re needed. The steering gear’s failed, we can’t find the First Engineer, and the captain wants to know if you can do anything about it.’

  He disappeared into the darkness, and the ship continued to drift.

  ‘We will end up on the other side of the world,’ Beth said with a shiver, as they stood side by side, staring towards the water. How on earth they would get back to dry land? Violet started to panic. For the first time in her life, she felt as though she was staring death in the face.

  The minutes turned into hours, until one of the crew started shouting, ‘It’s the Belgique – she’s come back for us!’

  There was clapping and cheering as the mail packet drew alongside and the passengers began to transfer with their luggage to the ship, but Violet didn’t want to leave the Samphire, not without Arvin.

  ‘You should go with the other ladies,’ William said. ‘There is nothing you can do here.’

  ‘Please come with us, Violet,’ Beth begged. ‘It isn’t safe to stay on the boat.’

  ‘I promise I’ll send word as soon as there’s any news on the fate of Mr Brooke and Miss Ayres,’ William said.

  ‘I’ll go back to Dover then, but I will not think him gone until I see his body with my own eyes,’ Violet said fiercely, clinging to hope, the one thing she had left. ‘What will you do, William?’

  ‘The captain of the Belgique has given us a stock of lights to warn other ships that we’re disabled. He’ll come back and tow us into Dover after you’ve been safely delivered to shore, unless we can repair the steering beforehand.’

  ‘I wish you luck,’ she said.

  ‘Don’t worry about us. You look after yourself and the young lady here.’

  Before she could thank him again, she and Beth were whisked on to the Belgique and shown to one of the empty cabins. They sat down side by side with cups of hot tea and a blanket that one of the crew gave them across their knees. When anyone spoke, they did so quietly.

  Why had Arvin not waited for her? Violet reflected bitterly. If he’d been patient, he would be sitting here with them. And then she felt guilty for forgetting that her companion was suffering too. ‘Let’s hope that Miss Ayres is trapped in her cabin and can be released unharmed,’ she said, wishing that she could believe in happy endings like some of those in Eleanor’s books.

  ‘Why didn’t the captain delay the mail because of the fog? What was he thinking of, leaving harbour in such weather?’ Beth asked.

  ‘I don’t know.’ Violet half expected Arvin to appear at her side as the gleaming lights of Admiralty Pier came into view through the porthole.

  The Belgique docked in the early hours before dawn began to break, and the ladies were escorted off the ship. A small crowd of well-wishers and the Marine Superintendent greeted them.

  ‘I can arrange passes for any passengers who wish to return to London,’ he said. ‘For those who prefer to continue their journey to France, they may wait at the hotel and take the next boat to Calais.’

  Violet decided to wait at the hotel for news of Arvin.

  ‘And I will wait there too,’ Beth said. ‘I must send word to my father in London because my governess is missing, and I have no chaperone.’

  ‘I’ll stay with you until someone comes for you.’

  ‘Oh, thank you. That’s very kind, but you have enough to deal with …’

  ‘I can’t possibly abandon you now. Let’s speak to the superintendent’s assistant and find out how we can get a message to your father.’

  ‘May I offer to stay with you?’ came a voice from behind them. Violet turned to find the elderly couple she had accidentally bumped into on the boat. ‘We are going to London – there’s no way you’ll ever persuade me back on to the mail packet,’ the wife said. ‘What do you think? We can take the next train together. It’s no trouble at all.’

  Beth looked at Violet, who nodded. ‘If that suits you better.’

  ‘It means I’ll get home sooner,’ Beth said.

  ‘Then travel safely.’ Violet wished her farewell and watched her go to collect a pass.

  ‘There you are.’ She heard her father’s voice and made her way to where he stood, his eyes dark with concern. ‘The news is already all over town. Are you hurt?’

  ‘I’m … I’m still in one piece,’ she said weakly as he embraced her, ‘but I’ve lost Mr Brooke.’

  ‘I expect he’ll be in the hotel waiting for you.’

  ‘He is gone,’ she said, breaking down.

  ‘All are accounted for – I have it on good authority.’ Pa’s voice faltered. ‘Tell me what you know.’

  ‘I saw the body of a Frenchman brought back on to the Samphire, and a young lady’s governess is missing. And Arvin – he fell from one of the lifeboats and although the crew tried to rescue him, he panicked and disappeared under the water without trace.’

  ‘Our Arvin? Our dear boy?’ Violet nodded and Pa’s complexion blanched under the gaslight.

  ‘Where is the chest?’ Pa said suddenly. ‘Your luggage?’

  ‘I don’t know. Arvin took what he could carry on to the lifeboat with him. Everything went into the water. You can’t imagine what it was like out there.’

  Pa began to pace up and down the quay, agitatedly picking at his nails.

  ‘This is a tragedy, a complete disaster,’ he muttered. ‘Violet, as you’ve said, all hell had broken loose, and in the chaos and confusion, you imagined you saw Arvin in the water. Isn’t it possible that your eyes deceived you?’

  ‘No, Pa.’

  ‘Well, we will not rest until we find him. As you say, there is no absolute proof of his demise. All is not lost.’ He took her firmly by the hand and started walking towards town.

  ‘Where are we going?’ she said, pulling against him.

  ‘Back to the house at Camden Crescent. I can’t let you go anywhere else – you need your family around you now.’

  Not having the strength to argue, she gave in and returned with her father to the family home where Ottilie, Eleanor, Wilson and the maid were waiting up for them.

  ‘My dear sister,’ Eleanor cried, throwing her arms around her. ‘We didn’t think we’d see you again.’

  ‘Oh, it is dreadful …’ Violet started to sob. ‘My poor husband has drowned.’

  ‘No!’ Ottilie exclaimed. ‘Tell me it isn’t true.’

  ‘We don’t know anything yet,’ Pa interrupted. ‘Nothing is certain.’

  ‘He has gone. I saw him …’ Violet’s throat closed, and she couldn’t catch her breath. Her head began to swim, and everything we
nt black.

  She woke to find herself in her old room with Eleanor asleep under a blanket in a chair at her side. When she sat up, her sister stirred.

  ‘Violet, you are awake. Can I fetch you a drink?’

  ‘No, thank you. What time is it?’

  ‘It’s the middle of the afternoon. You were exhausted …’

  The memories of the night before came flooding back into her sleep-addled mind.

  ‘Arvin,’ she cried.

  ‘Hush.’ Eleanor stood up, walked to the bed and hugged her trembling shoulders. ‘There’s no news, but Pa is still hopeful. Shall I ask him to call the doctor?’

  ‘No,’ she responded. Her heart was in agony, but there was nothing that a doctor could do about it. ‘Please, fetch me some paper so I can write to Arvin’s sister.’

  ‘I’ll help you with that. Pa has requested that you dress and come downstairs to be measured up for your mourning clothes. The seamstress is calling at four.’

  ‘I can’t bear to see anyone.’

  ‘Then I will have the seamstress sent up to you.’

  ‘If Pa is still hopeful, why does he want me to go into mourning?’

  ‘It has to be done out of respect for Mr Brooke, for what if he should return and find you in your ordinary day dresses? I think he would be disappointed that you thought so little of him that you didn’t bother with wearing black in his memory.’

  ‘I will come down then, if I must,’ Violet sighed.

  ‘Pa asked me to give you this. It belongs to Mama, but she doesn’t need it.’ Eleanor dug around in her pocket, pulled out a piece of jewellery and handed it to her. Violet bit her lip at the sight of the jet beads in her palm: black beads for a widow.

  Later, she and Eleanor wrote to Claudette, and the seamstress came to take measurements with a tape and write them down, but her grief couldn’t be recorded in inches. It was infinite. She supped a little chicken broth, but there might as well have been bones in it because it seemed to stick in her craw.