Ransom at Sea

by Fred Hunter

  Nobody spoke for a short time. Driscoll seemed rather uncomfortable with the silence.

  “Boy, she does look to be a regular tub, doesn’t she?”

  “Hmm?” Emily said.

  “The boat! The S.S. Genessee! Our home away from home for the next four days!”

  Emily glanced up at the deck and noted with dismay that the captain’s wife had turned in their direction, apparently unable to miss Driscoll’s booming comment.

  “I wouldn’t say that at all, Mr. Driscoll,” Emily said with surprising volume. “The boat looks rather charming to me.”

  Driscoll laughed loudly, and Emily feared that he was about to be even more embarrassing on the subject, but he was stopped by the sudden arrival of a small vehicle resembling a golf cart. It was driven by a youth who looked too young to have a license of any kind, and in the passenger seat was a tiny woman with windblown white hair, who looked a trifle startled, presumably because she hadn’t expected the conveyance to move at such a speed.

  The young man brought the cart to a stop behind the passengers, and Emily swiveled around on the bench so that she could see.

  “Good morning, Lily,” she said.

  The woman turned to her and blinked, then her lips moved. Lynn was unsure of whether or not a sound had emanated from them.

  “I beg your pardon, dear?” said Emily, leaning forward.

  Lily attempted a bit more volume. “I said, is this it? Am I in the right place?”

  “Of course you are!” Driscoll said with a hearty laugh. “Unless you think we’re all in the wrong place!”

  “You said you wanted the Genessee, ma’am,” said the driver. “This is it.” He climbed out of his seat and lifted her suitcase off the back of the cart. Then he came around to the passenger side and helped the old woman to step down from it with a measure of patience that was beyond his years.

  While they were doing this, Emily noticed movement beyond them. In the dark hallway of the main building, a man appeared to be hovering near one of the rolled-up doors. Emily supposed it wouldn’t be odd for a visitor to the pier to loiter in this fashion, but this man seemed to be paying particular attention to the members of their party. In his hand was a parcel wrapped in brown paper.

  Lily managed to struggle from her seat with difficulty while clutching the driver’s hand with her tiny claw. When the old woman was finally standing on solid ground, Lynn thought for a moment that she had dropped something for which she was searching the pavement. When she didn’t straighten after half a minute, Lynn realized that she was stooped with osteoporosis. The driver led Lily to Emily’s bench and dropped her bag carelessly beside it.

  “May I?” Lily asked in her barely audible whisper.

  “Certainly,” Emily replied, shifting a little closer to Marcella Hemsley.

  Lily began to lower herself onto the corner of the bench, pausing at the halfway point as if uncertain whether or not she was going to hit the mark. Then she proceeded until she had touched down.

  Lynn smiled to herself as she watched this. The phrase “suspended between heaven and earth” came to mind. She exchanged a glance with Rebecca, who was also smiling as if the same thought had occurred to her.

  Emily introduced the woman to Lynn as Lily DuPree.

  “I’m so excited,” Miss DuPree said so softly it seemed to belie her words. “I’ve never been on a ship before. It will be a new experience for me.”

  “I’d hardly call it a ship,” Driscoll boomed with a snort, miraculously having heard the faint voice.

  “You’ve never been on a boat before?” Emily prompted, ignoring him.

  “No! And I’ve been looking forward to it ever since it was announced in the bulletin. I’ve brought some of my favorite books along to read on the trip.”

  Emily produced a perceptive smile. “I see.” She turned to Lynn. “Lily was once the secretary to our former minister, Reverend Dawson. For … how many years was it?”

  “Close to thirty!” Lily said glowingly. “Oh, Theodore Dawson! Now, there was a holy man. A true man of God. He was one of those ministers from whom goodness just shines! When he retired … well, I just thought it was time for me to retire as well. There’ll never be another like him.” Her face clouded over. “I don’t know about this new minister at all … Reverend Hurley.…”

  “How long has he been your minister?” Lynn asked.

  “Seven years,” Emily replied with a twinkle.

  “Well, there’s eleven of us so far,” Driscoll piped up. “Always assuming that the two young ’uns are going along with us!”

  Lynn and Rebecca exchanged a quick, embarrassed glance.

  “Yes, we are going along,” said Lynn.

  “Lot of fun you’re going have with a boatload of old cats!”

  Lynn’s cheeks reddened on Emily’s behalf, but she was stopped from replying when she noticed the amused look on Emily’s face.

  “So I guess we’re waitin’ here for one more,” said Driscoll, oblivious to the effect he had caused.

  “Oh, no, Mr. Driscoll,” said Miss DuPree. “There’s to be only eleven. I called up Miss Warner yesterday and asked specifically.” She turned to Emily. “I only wanted to know—just for my own peace of mind—who would be coming on the trip. It will be four days, after all, in a small space, and one does want to be sure of one’s company.”

  On the deck of the Genessee, the slight flush that had appeared on Samantha Farraday’s cheeks at Driscoll’s words had faded. She sighed heavily and gave her husband’s arm a squeeze.

  “Look at them,” she said, though they had their backs turned to the passengers on the pier. Her husband patted her hand. She continued without animosity. “A bunch of doddering old folks. Do you mind too much?”

  The captain laughed lightly. “I don’t mind at all.”

  “You must! This has to feel like a comedown after the navy.”

  He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. “Is that how it seems to you? That I’ve come down?”

  “No!” Samantha exclaimed with distress. “No! I didn’t mean that. I love what we’re doing. I love the business. I love being on the lake. It’s just, when I look at the caliber of our passengers sometimes, I worry about what you think of our life.”

  “I don’t miss being in the navy. And I love our life as much as you do.” He said this in what Samantha called his textbook tone, which always left her wondering what he really thought.

  A man appeared through a door on the second level. He was tall with short blond hair he kept combed back. He was dressed in black denim pants and a tight white nylon shirt that showed off a well-chiseled torso. He sprinted up the steps to the first deck, gave a wave in the direction of the captain, then headed down the boarding plank.

  “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen,” the man proclaimed jauntily as he reached the promenade. “My name is David Douglas—you can call me David. I’m the head steward on the Genessee, which means that I pretty much do everything.” He laughed self-effacingly. “I guess we’ve reached that time in the world when everything’s reversed—used to be if you were the head of something, that meant you got to sit back and delegate. Now it means just the opposite: I’m the one that makes sure all the work gets done, that each and every one of you is happy, and that everything’s shipshape and Bristol fashion—whatever that means. And usually I do it myself. I’m just telling you so’s you know that if you want anything at all while you’re on board, anything at all, you just say the word to me, and if it can be done I’ll do it!”

  The passengers all seemed to be a bit taken aback by this sudden, lengthy introduction. They stared at Douglas with bewilderment.

  He broke the silence with a clap of his hands. “So! Anybody feel the need for help getting up the boarding plank?”

  “Oh, yes, yes,” Miss DuPree said eagerly. “I think I would like some help!”

  “Okey-doke, ma’am! Just leave your bag there.”

  A small young man had come down the pla
nk and joined Douglas. The new arrival had black hair and skin the color of a football.

  “Oh!” said Douglas. “This is Hoke, the other steward, which makes up my whole staff. He’ll be helping out as well.”

  Hoke smiled uncertainly.

  “Get the bags together first, out of the way so they don’t trip over them, then help some up.” Douglas instructed Hoke quietly. Then he held out a hand to Miss DuPree. “Now, ma’am, if you will, I’ll help you up the ramp.”

  DuPree placed her hand in his and rose unsteadily. Douglas bent slightly and put a hand on the old woman’s thin wrist in an attempt to steady her.

  “There you go, ma’am. You’re all right now.”

  “Thank you … David.” She said his name as if she were trying it on for size.

  He allowed her to slip an arm through his and then began the slow process of walking her up the ramp. The captain’s wife appeared at the top with a clipboard in hand, ready to check in the passengers.

  Claudia Trenton emitted a not-so-muffled “hmpf!” from the third bench. Emily glanced in her direction. From the displeased downturn of Claudia’s mouth, she apparently found fault with something of the proceedings. She walked away from her suitcase without giving it a backward glance, her regal bearing showing her confidence that a vassal would see to her luggage. Lynn crouched beside Emily, and said, “She looks like she thinks we should’ve been admitted in order of arrival.”

  “That would never do for Claudia Trenton,” Emily said with a quiet chuckle. “She didn’t arrive first.”

  Claudia was stopped temporarily at the top of the ramp by Douglas and Lily, the latter of whom teetered in the entrance as the captain’s wife greeted her and gave her her cabin number. Once Lily had cleared the entrance, Claudia swept onto the boat.

  Lynn glanced over at Hoke, who was just finishing lining up their bags. “I’ve never seen so much Samsonite in one place.” She paused, then added with a grin, “Do the elderly always gravitate to that type of luggage?”

  “Sturdy and reliable.” Emily nodded. “Which is usually best, given how they’re generally handled.”

  “Yes,” Lynn said after an appreciative glance.

  “Well, that young man seems to be taking good care of them.”

  Still carrying the briefcase, Stuart Holmes crossed to the ramp and went up. Hoke had finished with the suitcases, and without being asked followed Holmes up the ramp, contriving to look as if he’d forgotten something on board while keeping a watchful eye on the stringy old man. The Millers then got up from their seat, adjusted their shoulder bags and headed for the ramp.

  Douglas hurried back down the ramp and came directly to Emily. “How about you, ma’am?” he asked.

  Emily was a bit surprised at what she saw: with his youthful demeanor, from a distance she had taken Douglas to be in his late twenties or early thirties, but at close proximity she could see the deep crow’s feet, the small lines around the mouth, and several strands of silver in his blond hair. She placed him somewhere in his midforties.

  “No, thank you, young man,” she said cordially. “I’m quite all right.”

  “Could you use some help?” Douglas said to Marcella Hemsley.

  Instead of replying to him, she looked at Rebecca. The deep furrow in her brow took a sharp dip in the center, which made her appear not just confused but angry. “Are we boarding now?”

  “Yes, Auntie,” the niece replied.

  Marcella began to struggle up to her feet. “Well, what are we waiting for?”

  “Are you … are you absolutely sure you want to go on this trip?” Rebecca asked.

  She hesitated with both palms flat on the bench. “’Course I am! Did I talk about anything else for the past six months but how I wanted to go on this tour with my friends?”

  Lynn glanced at Emily and mouthed, “Six months?”

  Marcella continued. “’Course I want to go. But listen, you don’t have to come along if you don’t want to. I always told you that. I don’t need anybody to take care of me. I can take care of myself.”

  Rebecca slipped a hand under Marcella’s arm and helped her up. “I know you can, Auntie. But I want to come along. I need a vacation. We’ve already had this discussion.”

  She led her aunt toward the boarding plank, and Marcella continued to profess her independence as they went arm in arm up it. David Douglas had stood to the side during this exchange, not wanting to interrupt or offer assistance for fear of further antagonizing the old woman. But he followed them up the ramp at a discreet distance to ensure Marcella’s safety.

  “Poor thing,” Emily said softly.

  “The aunt or the niece?” Lynn asked.

  “Both of them.”

  “Well, Miss Charters,” Driscoll said broadly. “I reckon you turned your nose up at that young fella because you wanted to be escorted onto the boat by someone a bit more mature, am I right?”

  “Not at all, Mr. Driscoll,” she replied pleasantly but firmly. “I declined the young man’s offer because I don’t require assistance. Thank you just the same.”

  “Oh!” Driscoll said blankly, some of the wind going out of his sails. Then he shrugged and laughed. “Oh, well, all aboard!”

  He went to the plank and ascended, followed closely by Jackson Brock.

  Lynn held out a hand to Emily, who took it lightly and rose from the bench.

  “Thank you, dear,” she said.

  Hoke had came rather noisily down the plank and stopped before them. “I can help, if you want.”

  “Thank you, young man, but there’s no need,” said Emily. “Did Mr. Douglas say that your name is Hoke?”

  His dark skin flushed. “Yes.”

  “That’s a most unusual name. Is it short for something?”

  He nodded. “My name is Joaquin. They call me Hoke for short.” He said this with the colorless resignation of someone who knows it would be futile to protest.

  “I think Joaquin is a lovely name. If you don’t mind, I’ll call you by that.”

  He blushed again, this time appreciatively. “No, no, I don’t mind. I like it! You go onto the boat now.”

  Emily and Lynn started for the plank, and Hoke followed them up it, apparently anxious lest Emily should topple back down the incline.

  “I don’t know how you do it,” Lynn said quietly.

  “What?” Emily asked innocently.

  “Don’t be coy with me,” she replied with a sly smile. “I suspect you were quite the little siren when you were young.”

  Emily laughed. At the top they were greeted by the captain’s wife.

  “Welcome aboard,” she said brightly. “I’m Samantha Farraday. I take it you are…” She consulted the clipboard. “Emily Charters and Lynn Francis.”

  “That’s right,” said Lynn.

  “Miss Charters, we’ve put you in cabin ten and Miss Francis is in cabin eleven. You can go down to your cabins now if you like, but you may want to stay on deck for a little while—we’ll be getting under way as soon as the last passenger arrives, and most people like to be on deck for that.”

  “The last passenger?” Emily said. “I thought we were the last.”

  “No, there’s one more.”

  “I see.” Emily glanced at the deck. All of the female passengers appeared to have chosen to remain topside, while the males had gone below. “Thank you.”

  As Emily and Lynn moved away from Samantha onto the deck, David Douglas came up from below and went to the boarding plank. He stopped beside Samantha and scanned the promenade.

  “That’s all of them. Now I’ll get the other bags,” he said with a wink as he went down the ramp.

  Samantha gave him an indulgent smile. “Careful, David!”

  Hoke followed him down to the pier to help.

  “Do you want to stay up here?” Lynn asked Emily.

  “Oh, yes. I don’t want to go downstairs and have to come right back up again.”

  Deck chairs were arranged haphazardly around the
perimeter of the deck. Laura Miller sat facing the water. She’d placed her purse on the chair next to hers as if saving it for her husband was still necessary despite the small company. Marcella Hemsley was on a chair facing the pier, her face lit with delight. Her niece was in the chair beside her, sitting forward, her forehead creased.

  Lily DuPree was seated near the aft railing, her chair skewed around toward the deck. Emily noted with an inward smile that Lily was already engulfed in a book, oblivious to what was going on around her. Claudia Trenton sat near the boarding plank, her chair in a characteristically rigid upright position. There were two empty chairs nearby her, and Emily and Lynn sat down in them.

  Emily had no sooner adjusted the hem of her light blue cotton frock when a billowing cry came soaring up from the pier, accompanied by the clatter of a pair of wooden soles, the sound of which resembled the confused clop of an agitated horse.

  “Yoo-hoo!” cried the voice. “Yoo-hoo! Don’t leave without me! I’m here!”

  At the sound of the voice, the passengers on deck, with the exception of Emily and Lynn, tensed so noticeably they sent ripples through the air.

  “I’m coming, I’m coming!” The voice had neared and the wooden soles resounded on the boarding plank.

  “Oh, dear God!” Claudia exclaimed in an undisguised whisper.

  The source of the voice came into view. She wore a green knit dress with a thin brown cord tied around her waist so tightly it made the bulk above and below it shift like the contents of a lava lamp. Her hair was raven black, which couldn’t have been natural given her sixty-plus years, and the whiteness of her doughy face was interrupted by a beauty mark on her right cheek. From a distance it looked as if she’d neglected to swat away a small insect. In her right hand she carried a large, dark red suitcase, heavy enough that it caused her to list to one side.

  “Who’s that?” Lynn asked, not unaware of the sensation the arrival had caused among the other passengers.

  “That is Muriel Langstrom,” Emily replied.

  “A loudmouthed, tiresome boor of a woman,” Claudia added unbidden.

  “I’m so sorry I’m late!” Muriel said loudly. “I couldn’t get a taxi, and when I did the traffic was just unbelievable! It took twice the time to get here as I thought it would! And don’t you know, Navy Pier is farther away than I thought it was!”