Don Diego Albardo-Castenada ducked behind a crate as the spoiled young society miss looked back over the docks.
A stupid reflex, for she could not notice him amongst all the bustle.
He gripped the edge of the wooden crate, and his knuckles turned white. She had to have those plans on her. Searching her house was too risky, and what fool would relinquish such valuable plans? Failure was not an option. If she proved a fool, then he could take the unsavory step of getting the information out of her.
Messy, but necessary.
He had been the fool in one thing, though—boasting of the plan’s value to that lightskirt. He had had no intention of selling them—he meant to give them to Spain. He thought he had been so clever, disguising his true aim.
The plans were the key. The key to redeeming himself in his father’s eyes. Prove to him he was not a weak-willed milksop.
With firm resolve, Don Diego straightened and walked up the gangplank.
Chapter Nineteen
On The Wonder Of Man’s Ingenuity
Spunk. Pure spunk.
Phillip watched Miss de la Pointe—Adele—take one last glance ashore and had been ready to offer any encouragement she needed, but she stepped aboard with no other hesitation, determination and resolve clear in her confident strides.
And—was that...a skip in her step?
He followed behind, the gas lights in the short tunnel jiggling and flaring as if picking up her energy and amplifying it.
Blood rushed to his groin as visions of her in his arms assailed him—he’d lost control. So passionate she was. So open. To join with her completely—he inhaled sharply, picturing it. What would it be like to experience her excitement, her energy, her wonder, as he moved in her? He ached to know—but such was not possible unless he married her. He knew now, Charlotte’s plight or no, he wished to make her his wife.
His first priority then was to make himself indispensable and to find ways to be always at her side. He had the perfect excuse—she needed a bodyguard after all.
He also would need to open himself up more, relax, and engage her in discussions, reveal himself more. Perhaps let this dashing nature she seemed to enjoy manifest itself more fully. It seemed to sit more comfortably on his skin.
Then he stepped into the dappled sunlight inside the submersible and gasped. He craned his head, drinking in details. The brass struts comprising the glass dome gleamed, glinting here and there from the sunlight. He stood on a wide, blue-marbled promenade, with the upper two decks stepped back and overlooking the whole. Lush potted palms accented nooks and crannies, and chirping brass canaries flew overhead, trailing colorful ribbons and dropping blue confetti.
A man approached, his white uniform starched and crisp and sporting a blue armband the same shade as the gleaming floor and confetti. He bowed. “Welcome to The Neptune and the start of your amazing journey. I am Pierre and one of the many guides on board. You’ll know us by our armbands. Our sole purpose is to assist you in any way possible and help make your experience the best it can be.”
Phillip paid only half a mind as their luggage was sorted and porters carried them to their respective rooms. Meanwhile, Pierre pointed out highlights and the approximate locations of such public rooms as a Turkish bath, a library, a pool, and a billiards room. When Pierre began talking ship specifications, Phillip perked up.
“As you can see, the whole is covered in a glass dome. It is industrial grade and has been tested to withstand pressure far greater than what we’ll face.”
“So it is a submarine?” Phillip asked. “This whole ship will submerge?”
Pierre beamed. “Indeed it will. While we’re in port, it will act like a regular steam-powered ship. Once we reach the deeper waters of the Gulf of Mexico, the smoke stacks you see running alongside the elevators will lower and seal themselves shut, and we will submerge and convert to a combination hydro-electric power.”
Phillip cast an anxious glance at Adele, wondering how she was handling being on a submarine again. She gave him a smile. One less person to worry about then, for the moment. He’d also satisfied himself on Charlotte’s well-being by telephoning Louise during one of their appointed times to let her know his travel plans and to check on Charlotte. All was well, thankfully.
“What about if we run aground or spring a leak?” asked Mrs. Rochon. Adele’s great-aunt emphasized her point by tapping the end of her parasol on the deck.
Phillip winced and glanced at Adele, whose face looked a little whiter but otherwise gave no indication she was about to panic.
“We have enough life rafts on board for every single passenger and crew if the worst happened.”
“What if that happens while we’re under water?” Adele asked, her voice steady.
“The rafts are miniature submersibles, each capable of holding fifty-seven passengers and crew.”
She nodded, seemingly satisfied by his assurance. Relief washed through Phillip. All in all, a sound ship, and he looked forward to experiencing more. And experiencing it with Adele.
Adele fingered the edge of a detailed map of the Gulf of Mexico spread atop the captain’s table and marshalled her feelings while they waited the captain’s arrival. Her camera and recording equipment lay at her feet.
After boarding, she’d had no time to stop and collect her thoughts. No sooner had she been shown their cabin than they’d been summoned by the captain. It was all so overwhelming—the submersible, her new assignment and responsibilities, her conflicting feelings on Rawley and the threat he posed.
Rawley approached the table and picked up a brass weight. “These must be our planned stops.”
Adele focused on the weights. Indeed, amongst the smaller weights holding down the corners, and others marking different spots, four larger weights marked their ports of call: Mobile, Tampa, Havana, Cancun.
The door opened behind them, and in walked a man in his late fifties, salt and pepper hair in tight curls on his head. Sharp cheekbones accented his black skin. His uniform was more ornate than the others they’d seen.
“Sorry I wasn’t here when you arrived. I’m Captain Trimble, at your service.” He bowed. “One of you is Miss de la Pointe, I presume?”
“That would be me.” She curtseyed. “I am glad to make your acquaintance. This is my chaperone, Mrs. Linette Rochon.” She motioned to the room’s far side where her great-aunt had become engrossed in the books and now stepped to the table. “And this is a friend of ours, Dr. Phillip Rawley.”
“A pleasure. A pleasure. So. Mr. Tonti has apprised you of your assignment?”
“Yes. With your permission, I’d like to record your speech at launch and take pictures.”
He clapped his hands and rubbed them. “Splendid.”
She felt a little out of her depth, but after Molly had left last night, Adele had come up with a rough plan for how to approach this story and stay flexible enough for unexpected discoveries. “I know now is not an ideal time, but I would also like to set up a time to interview you, get your background, and discuss notable features of the ship and the voyage, that kind of thing.”
“Of course. I’m at your disposal after we launch. And please, let me know if we can accommodate you in any way.”
“May I interview passengers?”
“Certainly, if they have no objection.” He headed toward the door of his cabin. “I suppose we better get downstairs for the big event.”
They followed the captain down to the second level, overlooking the promenade, and to a roped off area containing a speaker’s box and horn. A crowd milled below.
“What do you need us to do?” Rawley asked Adele.
She directed them as needed, and soon she had her camera set up at an angle that would work. She’d have preferred getting more of the captain’s face, but since she couldn’t set her camera up past the balcony rail, she’d have to be content with his profile. Luckily, it was a strong one.
Next, they set up the Edison Recorder on its tripod o
n the other side of the captain, Loki assisting in its setup, and she placed Rawley there to manage it, quickly showing him the controls. Her great-aunt, complaining of fatigue and declaring Adele was in no danger of losing her virtue at such a public gathering, left for their cabin and a nap.
Soon the hour of their departure was upon them. Horns blared from the pier and a shout went up. Adele hustled to that side to see. Waving spectators and children sitting on their fathers’ shoulders lined the river. She gave a quick wave and went back to her camera.
“Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention, please?” The captain’s voice, assisted by the large horn, carried over the crowd on the deck below. Instantly the passengers stilled and conversations stopped.
“Today we embark not only on a new ship, the likes of which has not been seen before, but also on a new chapter in man’s ingenuity and endeavor,” he continued. “This vessel can trace its history back to the C.S.S. Hunley, constructed right here in this very harbor. Though it was built to defeat the federal government in the Civil War, Lincoln, in his infinite wisdom, looked to each city in the South to see what industry could be fostered to assist in the Long Road to Healing, otherwise known as Pax Lincolnia.
“For Mobile, it was shipbuilding, but more specifically, the submarine. Since then, we have become leaders in our fine country, and this ship is but the latest in the line of submarines we have devised.”
The captain continued with his welcome speech, while Adele captured picture after picture and Loki handed her photographic plates. She made sure, using the second hand on her watch, to acquire a wide range of exposure times. She glanced up to where Rawley stood with the Recorder. He gave a thumbs-up.
The crowd erupted in a cheer at something the captain said, and he was about to swing the bottle of champagne. She positioned her camera and timed a shot for when the bottle hit the side.
Another cheer went up at the shattering of glass. Ship horns blared and caused an answering cheer from the crowd on the river, muted by distance and the glass dome. Everyone moved to the shore side of the ship and waved frantically. Adele picked her camera up by the tripod legs, carried it to that side, and exposed a couple shots of the crowd at the river and of the crowd pressed against the glass.
The energy washed over her, feeding her own excitement. This was going to be a trip to remember. She spun around to wave at Rawley, and her hand, half-way up, dropped to her side. A crimson blush suffused Rawley’s face, for she’d caught him staring at her behind.
A fuzzy warmth tickled her belly. It would be a trip to remember, if she could remember to keep her distance, that is.
Chapter Twenty
An Invigorating And Energizing Waltz
Soon after the captain’s speech, the submersible pulled away from the pier and the cheering crowd and cruised down the bay. Adele busied herself by observing passenger reactions and capturing moments with her camera. The activity and focus helped mask what was coming next.
Mostly.
As if he sensed her unspoken need, Rawley stepped closer as they sailed out of the bay and into the Gulf’s open waters. She gripped the railing as the ship’s front lowered into the water.
His warm presence beside her lent strength. She could do this. She’d conquered her fear. He’d been a witness to it.
Above, the water crept over the glass, and the ship transformed into a magical underwater palace. And...no lingering apprehension suffused her. Only awe. Awe and wonder and delight.
“Beautiful,” he whispered beside her. She nodded. And was grateful he didn’t draw attention to her former fear, fuss over her and ensure she was okay. He had confidence in her.
The spectacle over, Adele was eager to verify she’d captured the captain’s voice and, with Rawley in tow, returned to the cabin.
Rawley whistled in appreciation. “You have much better accommodations than my lowly second-class cabin.” He swept into the sitting room area, which was impressive—the whole wall was one big picture window now showing the Gulf’s blue-green waters and the colorful fish they passed.
Adele opened the hard leather case housing her recorder and set it up on the low table in the sitting room.
“Have you ever heard one of these play back?”
“I have not,” Rawley said.
Her great-aunt came in from her nap and looked around with expectant eyes, but when she saw what they were doing, her face registered disappointment.
Was her great-aunt hoping to catch them in a compromising situation? She hadn’t thought of that stratagem on her family’s part. Her great-aunt would make an excellent witness, and Adele’s reputation would be ruined. She’d be forced to marry Rawley. At least, that would be their reasoning, but she didn’t care about her reputation as long as she had freedom. Still, perhaps a soiled reputation would hurt her ability to be a successful reporter, so she’d need to be more alert on this trip. She thought having her great-aunt here would make it impossible for things to escalate further with Rawley, but clearly she intended to be a lax chaperone.
“Ooh,” cried her great-aunt. “The marvels of this generation quite make my head spin. Are you demonstrating? The chance of seeing more is a great incentive to longevity, let me tell you. It’s quite exciting.”
Adele smiled at them both, eager to show the recorder off. Loki jumped off her shoulder and stood next to the machine, seemingly as eager as the others to see how it worked.
“You place the brass cylinder here and direct the horn toward the speaker,” she explained, going into detail on how it worked.
“For playback, you press this lever.” A little needle bumped along the grooves made into the cylinder, and a tinny voice, not at all the captain’s but saying his words, tinkled out of the attached horn.
Loki chittered and sat next to the recorder, face rapt, chin propped on his fists.
“Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention, please...”
They listened for a couple more minutes. “Astounding. Simply astounding. What marvels will we see next?” Rawley asked.
“They’re talking of making these so you could have them attached to your Bell Acoustic Telephone at home and, if you were unable to answer it, record a message,” Adele said.
Rawley shook his head, and Great-Aunt Linette bounced up and down in her seat. She was always interested in the latest things and gobbled them up like petit fours. “We should get one of those, Adele.”
“Someone’s always at home, though. I don’t see how we could have any possible use for it.”
“You never know, Adele. You never know.” Her eyes twinkled with excitement. “What if it’s something important, and we’re not home?”
Rawley and Adele chuckled, and they shared a glance. Heat rushed through her at their shared look. She quickly averted her gaze and twitched her skirts.
Yes. She needed to effect her required distance. “Rawley, if you don’t mind, I’d like a little time to devise my strategy. I think I’m quite safe here until dinner. And I should be fine there as well, which is a good thing since you weren’t able to obtain first-class passage.”
He eyed her closely, and a little stab of guilt pierced her, wondering if he could discern her attempt to get rid of him. But it was true—the dining room was only for first-class passengers.
“I will speak to the captain and see if he can make an exception for me under the circumstances.”
“Rawley, I don’t think that’s necessary. I feel perfectly safe, and what are the odds the killer not only knows about me, but was also able to secure a ticket on such short notice?”
“I don’t like you being alone. It doesn’t hurt to be careful.”
“I agree with Dr. Rawley,” Great-Aunt Linette chimed in. “After all, it’s the reason he is along on this trip.”
A knock on the door interrupted them. She and Rawley both stood, but he put up a staying hand. “Allow me. To be on the safe side.”
Rawley opened the door, and a short conversation follo
wed. He returned to the sitting room, a small piece of paper in hand.
“The captain has invited us to dine with him at the captain’s table at 6 p.m., the First Class Dining Room, it says.” Rawley dropped the message onto the table.
“Us?” she squeaked.
“Indeed. He must have seen I was an invaluable member of the team.” Rawley smiled.
Criminy.
“You must join us afterward in the parlor,” said the captain, pitching his voice so all at the dinner table could hear. “We will have cards, but please, no betting. Just friendly games of whist and canasta and the like.”
Her great-aunt had perked up at the mention of cards, but deflated upon hearing there would be no games of chance. Adele’s suspicion that she might have her hands—and lap and feet and elbows—full watching her great-aunt, instead of the other way around, was not in the least bit sneaking.
Adele didn’t think she could eat another bite, but dessert was presented, a scrumptious-looking chocolate torte. Several times she caught Rawley’s gaze, and they smiled. Between those stolen glances, she was aware of his movements and listened with half an ear to his conversation with his neighbors. She loved hearing his voice. Then she caught herself and gave a mental slap.
She was peaked from the day’s excitement and the recording sessions she’d held earlier with the passengers. She felt good about what she’d accomplished though. She’d written down their names and elicited promises of a second interview at the end of the trip to compare notes and contrast it to their feelings at the voyage’s beginning.
They finished their dessert and followed the captain into the adjoining parlor. He broke out bottles of sherry and brandy. “Please help yourself. We’ll not separate the ladies and gentlemen for the after dinner ritual, but combine it here. Believe it or not, on this large ship, we didn’t have enough space to accommodate.”
Steam Me Up, Rawley Page 19