The Galactic was Northern Lines oldest passenger steam-liner, after 20 years of faithful service, culminating in several unfortunate and embarrassing breakdowns in its final years, The Galactic, on arrival at its destination, was to be decommissioned. This was to be its final voyage, once the last of the crew left its decks, it would be scrapped. Having set sail several days earlier, the Liner quickly left behind the Florida coastline, cutting its way through the calm waters of the Atlantic Ocean, heading for its home port of South Hampton in the United Kingdom, but first it would make port on the island of Bermuda. Proudly, it sailed on through the cold clear night, unaware of its fate.
Below deck, Charles and Margery dressed for dinner, not just any dinner, but dinner with Captain Anthony Vicars himself. Proudly, Charles combed his mustache, smoothed and oiled his hair and puffed out his chest, a show in the mirror of how important he felt. Margery walked up behind him, dusted his shoulders and lapels 'Still as handsome as the day we first met, my dear' she said.
Charles smiled in the mirror at his beautiful wife and said 'the day we first met, my fragrant petal, I had snot running down my chin, and I was running home crying, having fallen and scraped my knees. I think I was five.'
She smiled over his shoulder into the mirror 'Well, maybe the second time then'
A sudden, loud resounding boom shook their room, Margery yelp in fright 'Charles, what was that, an explosion, or maybe they are clay pigeon shooting off the stern again?'
Charles shook his head 'No dear, not shooting, its night out, and it were much too loud for that. I'm not sure what it was my dear, but we can ask Captain Vicars soon enough. Don't worry my petal, I'm sure all is well'
They laughed nervously and kissed. Margery picked up her shawl and Charles fingered his pocket watch, popping it into his waistcoat pocket.
Taking her arm in his, he said 'My Petal, it's time to go.' Charles led his wife out into the corridor and walked together towards the large oak staircase that descended to the ship's ornate banquet hall. A large frosted crystal chandelier hung above their heads against a ceiling of cobalt blue, a crystal night sky. Charles hadn't noticed before, but the ship seemed to list ever so slightly to the aft. Another louder shuddering boom sent them both stumbling against the balustrade. Before long, it seemed to him as if they were walking up hill.
The ship's bell began to ring out, shortly followed by the crew running down each corridor rousing the passengers from their cabins, alerting everyone to the very real fact that the ship was taking on water and was slowly sinking. The cabin crew ordered everyone to move calmly but quickly out onto the deck, where they would be issued life jackets and directed to the appropriate lifeboat. Charles and Margery were carried along by a wave of worried passengers onto the deck and out into the frigid night air.
A young sailor frantically ran past, quickly Charles caught his arm 'Boy, what has happened, why are we sinking, tell me' Charles used his most commanding voice on the frightened crew man. Pulling his arm free the sailor shouted back as he ran on 'A boiler, it blew up, they say it's started a chain reaction and that they are all about to blow. We're going down fast'
Charles and Margery made their way to the deck and soon found themselves in the middle of a large white lifeboat, with a life jacket thrust over their head, and surrounded by other scared and confused passengers. Charles and Margery huddled together as the boat was winched down into the open waters of the Atlantic Ocean. The loving couple barely had time to come to terms with what was happening before panic erupted all around as the boat lurched downwards. The winch men struggled to stop the boat's descent, and within several feet, they did, but not before everyone in the boat were thrown down. The boat swung violently at the end of its ropes, and struck the iron riveted hull of its mother ship, hard. The crew attempted to cushion the lifeboat from further collisions by reaching out with their hands to ward off the hull.
Young petty officer Sedgwick, attempted to help at the rear, but in his eagerness, slipped. Toppling over the edge, he fell between the lifeboat and its mother ship. Quick thinking passengers either side of the young boy, dragged him back up just as the two boats crashed together again. Desperately seeking salvation, Sedgwick clutched the edge of the boat as he was hoisted up. Almost clear, he took the full force of an impact on his left hand, crushing fingers and breaking bones. Sedgwick's screams echoed off the ship's hull and for a moment halted the mayhem on the ship's deck. Lifting up his ruined hand he could see that his two smallest fingers were missing, blood spurted freely from his torn flesh and splintered bone. Charles instinctively wrapped his arms around Sedgwick's waist, and forced the screaming and thrashing boy to sit. Grabbing his arm and the damaged hand, Charles turned to his wife, nodding down at the gruesome sight, said 'Margery, wrap his hand.'
Speaking calmly, Charles tried to soothe the young man's cries of pain and distress.
'It'll be alright. It's just a little flesh wound. My Margery will have you good as new, my lad. You're going to have a heck of a story to tell next time you're down your local. How you got injured whilst helping save hundreds of lives. A hero, that's what they'll say my lad, a hero.'
With a jolt the boat finally splashed down, settling in the calm water and with a hefty shove began to drift away from the sinking ship. Tearing a strip of silk from her evening gown, Margery arranged a sling around Sedgwick's neck to support his injured arm. Finished, she sat with the others in stunned silence listening to the cries from the other lifeboats that floated all around. The crewmen drew out the oars and began to row to a safe distance before stopping and looking back at the crippled ship. A ship that would be at rest on the ocean floor before the hour was through. Blood that had spilled from young Sedgwick's injured hand ran down the side of the boat and slowly dripped a single drop at a time into the water, leaving behind an invisible, but very faint and tangible trail in their wake. It lit up their location like the brightest flare in the night sky, if not for other seafarers, then for other sea dwellers. Margery sat silently staring down at her hands, still wet and stained red with blood. Fidgeting with the remains of the hem of her dress, also covered in blood, she attempted to wipe her fingers clean, but only made them bloodier. Her skin crawled with the sticky substance. She had the overpowering need to wash and cleanse herself. Reaching over the side, Margery splashed water up her arms and onto her face, the water around her grew redder. As she washed, she noticed a disturbance, a swirling and eddying in the water. She watched as the disturbance closed in, making the water rise up. Out of the center of the boiling sea rose a grey snub nose, followed by two black billiard ball eyes. A razor lined maw grinned up at her, and clamped down onto her arms, sinking rows of dagger like teeth deep into her flesh. Shock struck her dumb, but the pain woke her voice. Margery screamed her lungs empty before she was pulled out of the boat and deep under the water's surface. Charles felt the commotion besides him before he heard his wife's screams and turned to watch as she disappeared into the sea. Jumping up he screamed.
'MARGERY........MARGERY!'
All around the alarm was raised 'SHARK, SHARKS!'
Screaming one last time, Charles launched himself into the Ocean after her.
'MARGERY, I'M COMING!'
Before he could swim far, hands grabbed him from behind and hauled him out of the roiling mass of sharks, and back into the boat. Struggling and screaming, he begged for them to let him go, so he could save his darling wife, or if not, so he could join her. The mass of frenzied sharks, finished with their meal, swam a short way off and waited for their next chance to scavenge. The crewmen that had rescued Charles bound and tied the crazed man for his own safety and for that of the passengers. His wounds quickly bandaged, Charles laid sobbing and begging for Margery. Hanging out of his waistcoat pocket, his watch swung on its gold chain. With just enough give in the rope, Charles managed to stretch his hand and take hold of the watch. Flipping open its engraved cover, he started to chuckle to himself.
'Just half an hour, we were laughing in our bathroom mirror, now we're here. Just half an hour, that's all it took.'
Laughing, he wailed into the clear night sky 'Just half an hour, HALF AN HOUR!'
Two weeks to the day, after the death of the man she loved, Jessica received a second devastating hammer blow that shook her to the very core. Henry made his usual visit first thing Monday morning, to check on her and walk with her around the gardens before he made his way to prison, where he had just been promoted to deputy governor. Waiting on the terrace, Henry held the teacup as it cooled. His stern face hid the grave news that he had just intercepted as he arrived. Taking the telegram from the butler, he said,
'No, Oliver, please let me. She will need comfort and support, and it is not your position to offer such. Thank you.'
Henry climbed the large wooden staircase to the landing and made his way down the hallway, stepping along the rays of morning sunlight that poured through the window, creating a golden pathway to Jessica's bedroom door. Henry reached for the door handle, but hesitated. Straightening his tie, he took a deep breath, knocked lightly and waited for Jessica to answer. Stepping into the room, he closed the door, and as he turned, he removed the smile from his face and replaced it with a look of concern. Seeing Jessica's beautiful but drawn face, he sat beside her. Taking her hand in his, he gave her the news of her mother's death, crushing her already broken heart.
The following month the beginnings of autumn showed. Gold and brown tipped leaves curled, grew brittle and fell gently to the ground with the gentlest of breezes. The gardens outside Jessica's window were bare and grey. The growing winds picked up the fallen leaves, and blew them across the lawns and into small dunes. Still the curtains of the manor house remained drawn. Jessica would continue to mourn until her father's return the following day.
Morning arrived and so did her father, Borden Asylum his destination, there he was to be assessed before being released and allowed to return home.
Jessica watched her father as he sat in the padded cell. His arms buckled around his chest, secured into a straitjacket. Under his breath he continued to mutter the only words he had spoken since the tragic death of his wife 'Just half an hour' he chuckled. 'Half an hour, that's all it took.'
Jessica's cheeks were wet with tears. The sight of her deranged father was like an icicle stabbing deep into her already aching heart. She approached him slowly. Calmly she made soothing noises and placed a hand on his shoulder. Startled, her father launched himself over into the corner, screaming. Alarmed, Jessica noticed a smeared trail of blood on the tiled floor. Blood had soaked through the bandages on the stump of her father's left leg, and seeped onto the floor. Cowering in the corner, Charles wept for his wife. Jessica gasped in horror. She hadn't expected to see him like this. And his leg, what had happened to his leg?
Fresh tears ran down her face. Unable to look at him any longer, she turned away from the nightmarish sight, and asked Doctor Sheckle to explain.
'Doctor, what happened to his leg?'
The Doctor looked confused at her question. Looking over at the cowering figure tucked into the corner and then back at Jessica, he flicked through the notes that had accompanied Charles from the United States.
'My dear, did they not say? Your father tried to save your poor mother from the sea. Unfortunately, when he was pulled back into the lifeboat his mind wasn't the only thing that he had left behind in the ocean, the poor fellow. He lost a lot that day to the sharks.' Closing the file, Doctor Sheckle escorted Jessica out of the cell. 'Do not worry, Miss Tambarton. We will do our utmost to return your father to sanity. He's in safe hands now.'
Henry guided Jessica out of the asylum and into the drizzle of the overcast afternoon. The heavens opened and poured more misery into her world. Dazed and numb with shock, she stood by Henry's side not knowing what to do. The asylum's large wooden doors slammed shut, making her jump. Everything she had just witnessed came crashing down on top of her. Jessica couldn't breathe. It felt as if she was being suffocated by the weight of a cruel world. Faltering, she almost fell to the ground. Henry held on to her by the elbow, she fell into his arms sobbing uncontrollably. Out of all the tragedy that had befallen Jessica over the past month, Henry had been her tower of strength, her rock. If it hadn't been for him the running of the family estate would have come to sudden and disastrous halt. Again, she thanked God for Henry as he helped her into the carriage. Her trusted butler, Oliver, had been waiting to return her home, to where she belonged. Oliver couldn't help but frown at Henry as he entered the carriage behind Jessica. He neither liked nor trusted the man; there was falseness about him. Oliver scowled unhappily, and spurred the horses on. He thought 'I'll have to keep an eye on the scoundrel.'
Jessica sat with her head against Henry's shoulder, and sighed with a teary sniffle, dabbing the corners of her eyes with a delicate lace handkerchief.
'Oh Henry, my poor dear father, he's a broken man. How could this happen to such a good and loving person such as him? Oh, and mother, such a terrible way to die. How am I to live with such sadness?'
Henry placed his hands over hers and steadied their shaking, 'Don't worry, your father just needs time to come to his senses. He's in the best place, with the best people to help him get well. Just stay strong for him. I'm here for you. You can rely on me to help you through this nightmare, my dear Jessica.'
They set off, and joined the morass of coaches and carriages that made the afternoon rush unpleasant to be part of. Henry patted Jessica's hand reassuringly. Turning away, he looked out of the window, and couldn't help but smile, and thought. 'Well Humboldt, dear brother, it seems all you held dear will soon be mine. Such a shame you couldn't be here to see me claim her for my own. But I'd rather have you remain in whatever grave you found for yourself.'
Raising the hood of his cloak against the beginnings of the growing storm, Oliver growled at the wind, and silently he drove them home.
Henry smiled reassuringly at Jessica and said, 'First thing in the morning I shall have a word with Doctor Gently at the prison. Victor is a good friend and he knows everyone at the Asylum. At the prison we get a lot of potential inmates for them to see. Victor, I'm sure, will be more than happy to visit and make sure all is well with your father's treatment. Would this make you feel a little better my dear?'
Relief was visible on her pale face, but so was desperation. Any help was welcome, or so she thought.
'Oh, that would be excellent thank you, Henry. You have been such a godsend through these troubled times.' Settling back they made themselves comfortable as the carriage bumped on towards home. Jessica began to doze into a dark sleep as emotional exhaustion took its toll. Henry held his prize for the remainder of the journey.
Without warning, the following morning doctor Sheckle turned up at the manor house. With a stiff back and a stern look, he came with the gravest of news, tragic news. That very morning on routine checks, they found her father dead in his room. It appeared as if he had somehow managed to free himself from his straight jacket, and using it he had hung himself from the bars of the window. Jessica felt she too was losing her mind. So much tragedy had befallen her in such a short space of time. The people she loved most in the world had all left her behind. Alone and lost, she didn't know what to do. Worst of all, she didn't feel as if doing anything was even worth the effort to begin with. Giving up seemed the only choice.
Jessica retired to bed early that evening and wept for them all. For her darling Humboldt, her poor mother and her tragic father, all of them gone from her and this world. Taking a sedative that doctor Sheckle had prescribed for her, she at last fell into a deep and restless sleep. She dreamed of a dark and bottomless sea, where she floated endlessly among grey writhing bodies. Swept back triangular fins raked her body. Jessica woke suddenly, drenched in sweat and shaking with forgotten dread. Morning light streamed in through the open windows, but the warmth offered little or no comfort. A knock at her door startled her fully awake. Realization of what had befallen the previous day came flooding back. Her tears spent, Jessica could only close her eyes and sigh as she thought of her father.
A voice called through the closed door. 'Breakfast is ready, my lady- and Mr Newhart awaits you out on the terrace.' The maid waited a moment for a reply. Receiving none she spun and made her way back to the kitchens.
Henry arrived as usual. He would breakfast with Jessica and join her in a stroll around the wider gardens, taking in the crisp morning air before making his way up to the prison and the day's heavy work load. Sitting at the table on the veranda, he accepted the offer of refreshment. Several minutes later Oliver placed a tray on the table, and poured a Steaming hot cup of strong coffee. The butler nodded, turned and left. Black, strong, with no sugar, that's how he liked it. The first sip was always the best, Henry thought. Folding the broadsheet newspaper in half and laying it down to the side, he reached for the cup and noticed the letter propped up against the small blue vase containing a single white rose from the garden. Jessica's name was written on the cream envelope. Picking up the letter, he played his index finger along its seam until the tip hooked behind the edge of the flap.
Tearing it along its length, Henry extracted several folded sheets of paper, and began to read in quiet disbelief.
Dearest Jessica
My love, my sweet, I write to you in earnest. I wish to have you know that at this moment in time, 11 August 1882, I am well, and thoroughly alive. If you have received correspondence telling of my death, then I am desperately sorry that you have had to live even for the shortest of time with this sorrowful burden. Be comforted that any mention of my death is in complete error. I remain alive and well and am counting down the days until I return to your loving arms.
My sweet, I have such a story to tell, a story of death and survival, of Ancient Egypt and tombs, and a magnificent treasure with mysterious powers, a beautiful Emerald, the size of a sixpence, its mount, the most dazzling silver plume of peacock feathers. The pendant has a power that at first I believed to be my own mind's trickery. But I have witnessed its mystery several times now, and know its power to be very real indeed. The emerald glows from within, and has a vibration like a heart strangely beating, sending shivers up my arms. It seems to come alive with the imminent death of an individual when close by, but remains dormant until then. I believe it to have a power over life and death, and am sure it has healed me of my recent wounds.
This gift, for that is what it is to me; I shall bring home to you, my love. Although I have used and benefited from its power, I did not actively seek to do so. As a beautiful and caring person, I believe that in your hands, a greater deal of good can be achieved with power such as this.
I have to go now my love; I must arrange passage aboard a small steamer heading up the Nile, bound for Cairo. From there I expect to travel to Alexandria, there I shall find the scoundrels that have betrayed Queen and Country and deal with them.
Goodbye for now my sweet, we shall see each other soon.
All my love
Humboldt.
Henry was exasperated. The bastard just would not die. Taking a long deep draft of his coffee, Henry read the letter a second time, this time though, with cold calculating ruthlessness. He began to think and to plan. I will have to have my men in Alexandria find him and his new found toy that is if the emerald truly exists and was not simply a figment of Humboldt's imagination. My dear brother will never leave Egypt alive, and I shall have this emerald.' Placing the letter back in its envelope, he tucked it away in his breast pocket; Jessica must never know the contents of this letter.
'NEVER!'
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