The Lost Empress

by Steve Robinson

  Alice followed the wine bottle as Henry pretended to top up his own glass. ‘I didn’t know you liked the theatre,’ she said, going along with the conversation that Albrecht seemed entirely disinterested in.

  ‘I can’t say that I do really, but they’re sure to be interesting conversationalists.’

  With that Henry put the bottle down and tipped it over with a clatter as it crashed onto Albrecht’s dessert plate. The wine gushed from the bottle in crimson waves that soaked both the tablecloth and Albrecht’s suit, causing him to leap to his feet.

  ‘You clumsy American!’

  ‘I’m awfully sorry,’ Henry said. He stood up and offered Albrecht his napkin as he called out for the waiter.

  Alice sensed that the time to run was coming soon. Her eyes found the nearest exit, and she readied herself.

  ‘Here, let me,’ Henry said.

  He made to mop up the wine with his napkin. He leaned towards the German as a member of the crew came over to assist, and at that moment Henry shoved Albrecht back over his chair.

  ‘Go!’ he called to Alice.

  She was already on her feet. She turned and ran, and then she felt Henry grab her hand. He pulled her towards the exit, and Alice couldn’t stop herself from laughing as he led her along the oak-panelled passageway beyond, neither of them having any idea where they were going.

  ‘Stop!’

  It was Albrecht, already in pursuit. Alice turned and saw that he was not far behind them.

  ‘Quickly, down here,’ Henry said, and they descended a stairway to the third-class level on the main deck.

  With the number of passengers in third class being roughly equal to twice that of the rest of the ship, they now found themselves moving at a much slower pace. It became noticeably warmer, too, and given away by their apparel, Alice was soon conscious of being stared at. They ran into another narrow passageway, and very soon Alice could hear music. It grew louder when they came to the third-class dining saloon, where a supper of gruel, cabin biscuits and cheese was being served—the third-class passengers having already taken their main meal of the day. They pressed on and came to another tight passageway, and after that they arrived at the source of the music: the Salvation Army band were giving a concert.

  ‘I’m getting very hot in this gown,’ Alice called.

  ‘Let’s go back up then,’ Henry said, and they took the next staircase they came to.

  ‘We could go to your cabin,’ Alice said when they reached the next deck.

  Henry laughed. ‘I share a twin with Albrecht. He’s sure to look there.’

  Alice paused briefly to get her bearings. ‘My cabin’s this way,’ she said a moment later.

  There was a commotion below the stairs then, and someone called, ‘Hey, mind where you’re going!’

  ‘Come on,’ Alice said, and this time she led the way, taking them along another passageway, and then another that was more familiar to her. ‘It’s just along here.’

  They were no more than twenty paces along the passageway that led to Alice’s cabin when the German caught up with them again. ‘Come back!’ Albrecht called.

  Alice didn’t think she could run any faster, but they didn’t stop. She knew her cabin was just out of sight around the corner, and they reached it with moments to spare. Alice pulled Henry in after her and quietly closed the door, just before she heard Albrecht pass by on the other side. Henry was smiling so much he looked as if he was about to laugh. Alice put a finger to his lips, and Henry kissed it. Then he kissed her hand, and very soon they were locked in a tight embrace.

  ‘Do you suppose he’ll leave us alone?’ Alice asked. She took off her hat and put it down on the dressing table.

  ‘Well, he can’t very well go around knocking on all the cabin doors. Especially as it’s getting late.’

  ‘We’ll have to be quiet then in case he’s listening for us.’

  Henry’s smile was suddenly full of romantic intent. ‘I didn’t plan on doing much talking.’

  He pulled Alice onto the bed, but she sat straight up again.

  ‘I’d just like to talk. Do you mind? Can we hold each other for now and talk in whispers? There’s so much I want to tell you, and we’ve only a few hours before we have to go and meet that awful man again.’

  Henry sat up beside her and wrapped his arms around her. He kissed her again. ‘All right, Alice. Anything you like.’

  Alice wanted Henry to know everything that had happened since they’d last seen one another, so she started at the beginning, from when they’d left the Hotel Des Indes as a happy family on that bright morning in The Hague. By the time she reached the part where she made her telephone call to Frank Saxby to set up the exchange, it was as if an immeasurable weight had lifted from her, not least because with Henry beside her she could finally see an end to the nightmare she had been living these past six weeks. She could see that Henry was perturbed by what she’d told him.

  ‘That’s too bad about your friend Archie. I didn’t really know him, of course—I’m sure we only met once or twice—but he seemed like a decent fellow.’

  ‘Yes, he was,’ Alice said thoughtfully.

  Henry got up and went to the porthole. He opened it wide and took a deep breath. ‘And Chester made a full recovery?’

  Alice nodded. ‘Yes, it was just a terrible scare, that’s all—a warning.’ She paused before adding, ‘We’re not supposed to have the portholes open once we’re underway.’

  Henry stuck his head through the opening and looked out. ‘Most of the other portholes are open.’ He turned back to Alice. ‘Do they expect us to suffocate in our sleep?’ He came back to the bed then and sat down again. ‘Saxby should answer for what he’s done. You say you made a copy of this notebook of his?’

  ‘Yes, I copied the exact code into another notebook, and then I deciphered everything I could and wrote that down separately. I’ve told him it will be sent to the authorities should anything happen to us.’

  ‘Smart move,’ Henry said. ‘But who could you trust with something like that?’

  Alice told Henry all about Archie’s half-sister, Phoebe, and how she’d been staying with her in Quebec City these past eleven days.

  ‘I didn’t know what else to do,’ she added. ‘I’m sure it’s safe enough.’

  ‘Well, just the same, I think we’d better place it with an attorney for safekeeping as soon as possible.’

  ‘Of course,’ Alice said. ‘If you think it’s for the best.’

  They spent the next hour talking about what they would do when they arrived in Liverpool, and as Alice had hoped, Henry reassured her that once he corroborated her story and told the authorities he’d been kidnapped, everything would be okay. The rest would fall into place, he told her, and the Dutchman would be held to account for the murder in Green Park, albeit posthumously. Henry put her mind to rest further by saying that they had almost a week to go over what they would say to the authorities and to her father when the time came, insisting that she leave any further worrying to him.

  ‘Do you know why this has happened to us?’ Alice asked. Following her telephone conversation with Saxby, she had continued to wonder at the reason, and she had come to think that perhaps it wasn’t because of her connection to Archie and the defence plans he had access to. Surely Saxby would not have given the photographs up so easily if it were. ‘While you were being held, did anyone explain why they wanted me to spy for them?’

  ‘They told me everything,’ Henry said. ‘I suppose they didn’t think it mattered whether I knew or not since they weren’t about to let me go until it was all over—that’s if they planned on letting me go at all.’ He paused and looked into Alice’s eyes. ‘It was never about you, Alice. It was your father they wanted.’

  ‘My father? How do you mean?’

  ‘I mean they were going to use you to get your
father to become a mole for them. They were planning to force him to hand Admiralty secrets directly to them. Seems they’ve been trying to get a British admiral in their pockets for some time now.’

  ‘Admiral Waverley,’ Alice said to herself. She had already thought as much. Now Henry had as good as confirmed it. Waverley’s wife had surely been kidnapped in an attempt to force the admiral to spy for them. But it had all gone terribly wrong. Then they had looked to her family. ‘But how did they expect to use me to get information directly from my father?’

  ‘You were being set up. They had you spying here, there, and everywhere, didn’t they? You were getting deeper into trouble, and they could prove everything you’d done. They planned to turn you over to the authorities unless your father cooperated, and if they did that, as you’re still a British citizen, you would have been tried and executed for high treason. They would have had your father on a lead for as long as they wanted. You can’t undo the things you’ve done, and as I’m the only one who can prove you were set up, I suppose I would have had to disappear at some point.’

  Alice thought about everything Henry had said, and it all made perfect sense to her now. She was just another pawn in their high-stakes game.

  ‘So when the police came to arrest me, their plan became useless,’ she said. ‘I suppose that’s why Raskin had to kill that man who came after me in London. He wasn’t just protecting me. He was trying to protect their entire blackmail operation. Only it was already too late. The police knew who I was and what I’d been doing.’

  ‘Well, I’m glad it’s turning out differently to how they planned it.’ He checked the time on his pocket watch. ‘I’d better be going,’ he added. ‘It’s after midnight, and I think I ought to patch things up with Herr Albrecht before you see him again. He’s sure to be mad, and I’ve got to share a cabin with him tonight.’

  Alice was alarmed at the thought of Henry leaving her again so soon, even if it was just for an hour. ‘Really, Henry? Must you go?’

  Henry laughed. ‘You’ll be just fine,’ he said as he rose. ‘Besides, you’ll need some time to fetch that notebook from wherever it is you’ve hidden it.’

  Alice spun around and took up her boater hat from the dressing table. She turned it over and showed Henry the lining. ‘I had it with me the whole time,’ she said, smiling as she slipped the notebook out.

  Henry gave her a grin. ‘I can see you’ve picked up a few tricks while I was away.’ He opened the door to leave. ‘You’ve become a proper little spy, haven’t you?’

  Alice frowned. ‘Don’t say that, Henry. I despise all of it.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it.’ He brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. ‘Tuck that notebook back inside your hat. I’ll see you at one fifteen.’

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Present day.

  Following his meeting with Lady Vivienne Metcalfe at Chatham’s historic dockyard, Jefferson Tayte spent the remainder of the morning ambling with his thoughts as he took in such attractions as the Old Ropery and the Smithery, and the three warships now in permanent dry dock at the museum as part of the core collection of the UK’s National Historic Fleet: HMS Gannet, HMS Cavalier and HMS Ocelot, an Oberon-class submarine commissioned in 1964 and the last warship to have been built at Chatham. Tayte was heading back into the Wheelwrights’ restaurant for lunch, having just left the Ocelot, when his phone rang. He checked the display. It was Davina.

  ‘Guess what I’ve found?’

  Whatever it was, she sounded excited about it, and Tayte supposed the reason had something to do with Phoebe Dodson. During dinner with Davina the night before, she had asked whether she could help out with the research more directly than she felt she had been, so they had agreed she should take Phoebe Dodson from the list of names and connections still to be explored.

  ‘You found something?’ Tayte said. ‘That’s great. What is it?’

  There was a pause. Then Davina said, ‘Let’s meet up and talk about it. I’ve made some printouts I want to show you. Where are you now?’

  Tayte told her, adding, ‘I was just about to grab some lunch. Then I thought I’d go over my research into the Empress of Ireland in case I’ve missed anything. I was heading back to my hotel when I’m finished here.’

  ‘Great,’ Davina said. ‘I’ve still got a few things to check myself. Why don’t we meet in the hotel bar at six o’clock this evening? That should give us both plenty of time.’

  ‘Sure,’ Tayte said, ‘six o’clock it is. I’ll see you then.’

  The call ended and Tayte continued into the restaurant, which by now was moderately busy with lunchtime trade. He made straight for the self-service counter, grabbed a tray and got in line behind two other people, and when his turn arrived, he ordered a hearty-looking dish, which the lady behind the counter told him was called Lancashire hotpot. He found a quiet table at the opposite end of the restaurant and fired up his laptop. As he began to eat his meal, he started browsing the Web, looking to expand his understanding of the Empress of Ireland disaster in the hope that something might strike a chord with the question he’d been ruminating on most of the morning: what had happened after the Empress of Ireland left Quebec to affect Alice’s plans to return to England? As he began to read, he was quickly reminded that over a thousand passengers and crew had lost their lives that night, and now he saw that only 4 of the 138 children aboard had survived. It was a heartbreaking statistic.

  He came across a number of survivor accounts, and of particular interest was Grace Hanagen, daughter of the Salvation Army bandmaster, not least because at seven years old she had been the youngest survivor, and when she died in 1995, she was also the last. Tayte read how she had refused to sleep in a berth by the porthole in the family’s second-class cabin because she believed that that was where the water would come in. If the account was true, Tayte thought how prophetic the young Grace had been.

  He followed another link, this one taking him to a Web page containing some of the more notable figures who had died that night. He read about Henry Lyman, a millionaire from Montreal, who had married late in life because he had spent so much of it looking after his sick mother and only felt free to do so after her death. He and his wife were said to have been travelling to Europe on their honeymoon, and neither had survived.

  Perhaps most famously was the account of the dramatist and novelist, Laurence Irving, and his actress wife, Mabel Hackney. They had been touring Canada with Irving’s production troupe, the majority of the troupe having followed to England on the White Star Line’s RMS Teutonic because there had not been enough time for the entire troupe to pack up and meet the voyage. Tayte thought the obvious: if only Irving had not been in such a hurry to return to England and had instead waited with the rest of the troupe.

  Tayte turned to the newspaper archives with a broad search for articles mentioning the Empress of Ireland in 1914, and he was soon reading an extract from the New York Times, printed on 5 June. The headline read, ‘EMPRESS WIRELESS HAD ONLY 8 MINUTES.’ The account that followed was from the radio operator Ronald Ferguson, who had managed to get an SOS call out in that short time before the water had flooded the stoke room, causing the dynamos to fail, cutting all power. He read how those eight minutes had been vital in securing aid from two nearby ships, the Lady Evelyn and the Eureka, without which many more lives would have been lost.

  For all Tayte read, while it helped to build a picture of events in his mind, it didn’t help to answer his questions, so he steered his thoughts back to Alice. He wondered somewhat fancifully whether she had met any of the people he’d just read about, whose lives had hung in the balance with her own on that cold and foggy night.

  He clicked on another article, and for the umpteenth time he saw the words ‘Fourteen minutes’ in reference to the time it had taken the ship to sink after she had been struck by the Norwegian collier. He couldn’t imag
ine anything having happened during those last minutes aboard the Empress to change Alice’s plans about returning to England. In that short time, he imagined everyone’s efforts would have been focused solely on trying to stay alive, or trying to help their loved ones. Whatever had happened to change Alice’s mind about returning to England had in all probability been determined before the SS Storstad struck its fatal blow.

  Tayte sat back and stared up at the vaulted ceiling. He closed his eyes and went through his logic again. Alice was returning to England—of that much he was certain, as she couldn’t have known the ship was going to sink. Had it not, the Empress of Ireland would have arrived in Liverpool, where either the authorities would have been waiting for her or would soon have caught up with her and made their arrest. That told Tayte that when the ship left Quebec, Alice must have had hope that she would be able to return to England and to her family rather than to a death sentence. But somewhere in that brief time before the Empress sank, that hope had been dashed. Something had changed, leaving Alice in a desperate situation, feeling that she had no other choice than to leave everything and everyone she knew and loved behind, to feign her own death and start her life over.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  RMS Empress of Ireland. Friday, 29 May 1914.

  The second-class music and reading room on board the Empress of Ireland was located in the aft section of the shelter deck behind the dining saloon. It was plushly carpeted, with panelled walls and ceiling, and the seating, although not finished in leather as Alice imagined it would be for the first-class passengers, looked nonetheless clean and comfortable. It was a well-lit room, despite the portholes that were now black against the night and the recently arrived fog that was common to the St Lawrence River in late spring, when the warmer air meets the river’s icy meltwater.