Duke of a Gilded Age (25 page)

Wesley could only make out a few words, but they were the important ones.

“
Si,
Matteo
, alla barca grande
,” he repeated, nodding in an exaggerated fashion. “To the big boat. Ladies and children first.
Donne e bambini prima
.”

At that point, the women began to protest while the men tried to make them see reason. Wesley glanced at the captain.

“They understand now, I think. How soon before you can drop lifeboats into the water?”

“The
Apollo
has been turning the whole while we’ve been down here. I’ll go topside to check on her progress.”

After Captain Yarborough left, Wesley sagged against the wall, emotionally and physically spent. He couldn’t help notice Stephen’s smirk.

“You’ve something to say?”

Stephen shrugged. “Yeah. That wasn’t too bad, Wesley. Well done, actually.”

Wesley peered at him. “You know, I’d like you far better if you left Miss Oakhurst alone.”

In response, Stephen laughed. “On that, we must agree to disagree.”

Captain Yarborough managed to halve the distance between the
Apollo
and the
City of New York
before ordering the first of the lifeboats lowered into the water. Wesley and Stephen tried to coax the steerage woman and children from the dining hall, but they cried and clung to their husbands and fathers. Finally Matteo raised his voice over the din. His words crackled with authority, and the women reluctantly picked up worn carpetbags, took children by the hand, and followed Wesley and Stephen on deck.

Overhead, clouds had blotted out the moon and stars, and the ocean swells had doubled in size. Wesley did not have to be an expert sailor to recognize the increased danger. The crew of the
Apollo
busied themselves guiding the women and children passengers into the lifeboats, and a short while later the first of the boats pushed off for the
City of New York.
It rose up on the crest of a huge swell and then disappeared on the other side. As the second lifeboat prepared to depart, a fracas ensued.

“Captain Yarborough, I simply
refuse
to ride with steerage!” exclaimed the lady with the dog.

Stephen and Wesley exchanged a disgusted glance.

“Madam, you’ve no choice—” the captain began.

Stephen marched over. “Let me help.”

To the woman’s shock, he plucked the dog from her arms, and handed the squirming animal down the side of the ship into the waiting arms of a crewman. The woman was beside herself, but she hastened to follow her pet into the lifeboat. She repeated, “Well, I never!” the entire way, but at last the boat shoved off.

“Thank you, lad,” Captain Yarborough said, patting Stephen on the shoulder. “I was about to throw the beast into the drink.”

“Which beast?” Stephen muttered.

The captain shouted orders to his crew to move faster. After the women and children were loaded, a shoving match broke out amongst the men over their place in line. Since many of the crew were engaged in either rowing lifeboats or trying to keep the
Apollo
from drifting, Wesley and Stephen stepped in to sort things out. Wesley took a blow to the jaw for his efforts, but the third and fourth lifeboats finally began inching across the writhing ocean to safety. By then, the
Apollo
was sitting decidedly lower in the water, and the larger waves were sending spray onto the deck. The electrical lights on board began to flicker and the remaining crew lit kerosene lamps.

“Lads, time is running short. I want you on the next boat,” the captain said.

Stephen grinned and gave him a salute. “Aye, aye, Captain.”

The crew and many passengers on the
City of New York
formed a human chain to receive refugees from the
Apollo
. Belle and Louise handed out blankets to cold, wet, and terrified women and children before stewards led the refugees to their quarters in steerage. Most of the new arrivals were emotionally numb and compliant, but one dreadful woman with a dog demanded to see Captain Howe. He emerged from the bridge and listened patiently as she reeled off a list of requirements: she would have a deck cabin, chopped chicken liver for her pet, and the ship must turn around and head to New York as soon as may be.

“I’m sorry, madam, what may I call you?” the captain asked.

“Mrs. Stilton of Gosling Manor, Gloucester. My dog’s name is Princess.”

Captain Howe beckoned to a waiting steward.

“Mr. Kelly, please escort Mrs. Stilton and Princess to the finest accommodations we have—in steerage.”

“What!” Mrs. Stilton exclaimed, trembling in outrage. “I never!”

“You’re welcome to take your meals in the saloon, Mrs. Stilton, but all our first and second class rooms and cabins are full. Furthermore, I plan to arrive in Liverpool only a half-day behind schedule. Welcome aboard.”

Captain Howe bowed, turned on his heel, and returned to the bridge. Belle and Louise exchanged an amused glance, which Mrs. Stilton unfortunately noticed. She singled Belle out for her wrath.

“Having a joke at my expense are we?” she snapped. “You’ll regret it, I’m sure.”

Belle curtsied. “I beg your pardon.”

But Mrs. Stilton was striding off with Mr. Kelly, her nose in the air. Louise stared after her, aghast. “What was
that
all about?”

Belle sighed. “Adversity can bring out the best or worst in people. Obviously, Mrs. Stilton falls into the latter category.”

Wesley hastened toward the
Apollo
saloon, relishing the idea of spending a few moments someplace warm. Stephen rubbed his hands together and stuck them under his armpits.

“Playing the hero is chilly work, I must say,” he said.

Wesley laughed. “Agreed.” He rubbed his bruised jaw. “And occasionally painful.”

“When I get back to the
City of New York
, I’d like a sandwich and a tot of brandy. Not necessarily in that order.”

The lights sputtered, but stayed lit.

“I’m glad we’re getting on the next boat,” Wesley muttered. “I believe the ship is sinking sooner rather than later.”

Apprehension showed in Stephen’s eyes. “Right you are.”

They burst into the saloon, past the pile of abandoned luggage, and dashed toward the cork vests and Mackintosh jackets they’d left on the table. Wesley suddenly noticed a well-dressed man kneeling in front of an open trunk.

“You should be on deck, sir,” Wesley called out. “The last of the lifeboats are loading now.”

As the man straightened, he slipped a handful of jewelry into his pocket with a furtive motion. “Thanks, kid. Much obliged.”

The man’s American accent had a Western twang. Wesley glanced at the luggage; many of the trunks were open and their contents strewn onto the floor.

Stephen frowned. “It looks an awful lot like you’re stealing valuables that don’t belong to you.”

“That’s none of your business, is it? Besides, it’s all going into Davy Jones’s locker anyway,” the man replied.

“Nevertheless, I’m going to notify the captain,” Stephen said.

Before Stephen could take more than a few steps, a second man stepped out from behind the door and swung a cane at his head like a club.

“Watch out!” Wesley yelled.

The corner of the cane struck Stephen’s temple with a sickening thud and he dropped to the ground, out cold. Wesley launched himself toward Stephen’s assailant. Before the man could pull back the cane for another strike, Wesley knocked him flat. The American leaped over the luggage and shoved Wesley backward. The two exchanged several blows, but Wesley finally hit the fellow hard enough to send him flying over the long dining table. He rushed to Stephen’s aid, but then something heavy came crashing down on his head and the lights went out.

Blackness and a throbbing headache greeted Wesley when he opened his eyes.
Am I blind?
He sat up, reached out his hands into the darkness…and encountered a body.

“Stephen, is that you?” Wesley shook him and was rewarded with a groan. “Wake up!”

“Where are we?”

“I don’t know.”

Wesley struggled to his feet. In the process, he kicked over what sounded like a metal bucket.

“Don’t make any more noise!” Stephen exclaimed. “My head hurts like the devil and it’s making me queasy. I may get sick.”

“Please don’t. We’re in a closet.”

“A what?” Stephen repeated, confused. “Why are we in a closet?”

“Those two thieves must have dragged us in here after they knocked us unconscious.”

“How long have we been out?” Stephen sat up quickly, banging into a shelf. “Ow!”

“I don’t know, but we have to get to the lifeboat.”

Wesley fumbled around until he found the door. Unfortunately, there was no knob and the panel would not yield to pressure.

“Damnation, we’re locked in!”

He pounded on the door, and shouted, but there was no answer. Stephen joined him, but still nobody came.

“We’re making a horrible racket! Why doesn’t anyone come?” he asked finally.