The Lost Sapphire (16 page)

On the weekend, Theodore Ramsay had invited a small group to go out sailing on his father's yacht, including the Hamilton sisters, Audrey, Jim Fitzgerald and Tommy O'Byrne. He had clearly chosen the party to please Imogen. Theodore arrived at Riversleigh to pick up the two girls in his red two-seater Bentley sports tourer, its black canvas roof folded down.

‘It'll be a bit of a squash,' said Theodore. ‘Miss Hamilton, you sit in the middle, and your sister can sit with your bag at her feet on the side.'

Theodore drove fast, hitting the horn impatiently and overtaking other vehicles that slowed him down. Violet had to hold on to her hat to stop it escaping its hatpins. Theodore pulled up next to the St Kilda Yacht Club and parked carelessly on an angle.

‘I say, I didn't scare you, did I?' Theodore asked as he came around to open Violet's door.

Violet felt a thrill of anticipation as she slid out of the car and breathed in the strong scent of saltwater and briny seaweed drifting from the bay. ‘Not at all – it was quite a ride. I think today might be rather an adventure.'

The girls followed Theodore past the two-storey clubhouse and onto the pier, where majestic wooden yachts of all sizes bobbed and swayed. Halfway along the pier was a sleek timber ketch with two masts. Two crewmen in smart navy-blue uniforms were loading crates onto the yacht and stowing them down below.

‘Can't go sailing without oysters and champagne,' Theodore joked. ‘Welcome aboard the
Mariette
.'

He took Imogen's hand to solicitously help her across the gangway and on board. Violet decided not to wait for Theodore's help and leaped across the gap between pier and boat, landing lightly on her feet. The deck rolled and pitched gently with the waves.

‘Take a seat aft,' Theodore suggested, waving towards the back of the yacht. ‘You ladies will be safely out of the way in the cockpit.'

Violet gazed around, taking in the neatly coiled ropes, fluttering pennants, glossy varnished woodwork and fresh white paint.

‘Thank you, Theodore,' Imogen said. ‘She's definitely a beauty.'

‘Then she's a fit setting for such delightful company,' flattered Theodore.

Violet caught Imogen's gaze and lifted her eyebrow. Imogen stifled a giggle.

There were two bench seats scattered with red cushions running on either side of the cockpit. Violet and Imogen took a seat, and Audrey, Tommy and Jim joined them.

White with the odd stripe of navy were the colours of the day, with the three girls wearing white linen dresses, white stockings, wide-brimmed hats and low-heeled shoes. The men wore white shirts and flannel trousers, straw boaters and blue blazers. Theodore had a debonair cravat knotted at his throat, and his hair was slicked back.

One of the crew members presented himself and saluted to Theodore. ‘All set, Cap'n.'

‘Fine. Fire the engine and cast off,' Theodore ordered.

‘Aye, aye, Cap'n,' the crew replied, running to do his bidding.

The engine rumbled to life and Theodore stood at the timber steering wheel, reversing the ketch out into the vast indigo bay. Sunlight danced on the lapping water. Seagulls swooped and shrieked over the beach. A flock of ungainly pelicans flew in formation, descending to land with unlikely grace on the bay. Violet sighed with pleasure.

The crew hauled on ropes, hoisted sails and tightened trim. In moments, the ketch was flying across the water, heeling to starboard. As their speed picked up, the wind ruffled Violet's hair, loosening it from its bobby pins. She closed her eyes and turned her face to the sun and the wind, listening to the slap of water on the hull and the whoosh of wind over the white sails.

As the yacht was skimming south, the guests began to chat and tell stories. One of the crew members came up with glasses of champagne on a silver tray.

Violet shook her head. ‘No, thanks. Would you have any water, please?'

‘Very good, miss,' replied the crewman.

‘Me too,' said Tommy. ‘I'm working at the hospital tonight.'

‘A little glass won't hurt you,' Theodore protested. ‘It's French. Nothing but the best on the
Mariette
.'

Tommy shook his head firmly. ‘I'd hate to lose a patient because of a fuzzy head.'

‘Suit yourself,' Theodore replied. ‘Another glass, Jim?'

Port Phillip Bay was a huge body of water, enclosed on all sides, except for the narrow heads leading to the ocean many kilometres to the south. The coastline was ringed with sandy beaches, scrubby vegetation and small villages. Behind them to the north was the city of Melbourne, with its skyline of tall buildings. To the west were the piers, dockyards and huge ships of Williamstown.

The coastline quickly dropped away behind them until it was a shadowy smudge on the horizon and they were sailing out into the open water of the bay. After a couple of hours, Theodore ordered the crew to drop the sails. The ketch lost speed and came upright, gradually coming to a stop, where it bobbed up and down on the small waves.

Violet looked around, shading her eyes with her hand. As far as she could see was a vast expanse of navy-blue water under a cerulean sky, the thin ribbon of land barely visible. It was as though they were the only people in the whole world. It made her feel very insignificant.

‘Time for a swim, then we'll have lunch,' Theodore announced. ‘Why don't you ladies go down below and get changed?'

One of the crew members dropped a rope ladder off the stern while the other fetched a pile of fluffy towels. After
several minutes, Violet, Imogen and Audrey emerged from the cabin in their swimming costumes.

Violet was up first, loping to the stern. She stared down into the sparkling water, wondering what was down there – hopefully not any sharks. She took a deep breath and dived cleanly into the deep. The icy water shocked her, making her feel invigorated and alive. Violet struck out, swimming strongly away from the safety of the hull. Moments later she was joined by the others – squealing, laughing and splashing. Tommy grabbed Imogen and threw her overboard, then plunged in after her. Jim did a huge bomb off the stern, spraying everyone.

Theodore challenged them all to a swimming race around the yacht, then pretended not to care when Jim won.

Afterwards, they lazed on the deck, letting the saltwater dry on their skins.

The crewmen served platters of sandwich triangles – egg and lettuce, chicken and tarragon, ham and mustard, and finely sliced cucumber – along with oysters in their half-shells, strawberries and a creamy wedge of camembert cheese with crackers. The sunshine and salty air gave them all a good appetite, but there was more food than they could possibly eat.

‘The fish will have a fine feast tonight,' Theodore said after slurping the last oyster out of its shell. ‘Throw the scraps overboard.'

The crewmen made to throw the remnants of the picnic over the side.

‘No!' said Violet. ‘Don't.' Everyone looked at her. ‘I mean, it was all so delicious – it would be a shame to
waste it. Surely we could pack it up and perhaps your servants might –'

Theodore guffawed. ‘Our servants get plenty to eat. We're not living in the Middle Ages.'

‘Violet,' Imogen admonished, looking embarrassed. ‘Not now.'

Violet flushed but pressed on doggedly. ‘I just thought perhaps the servants could deliver the food to poor families who might need it, like our maid Sally's family in Richmond.'

Imogen shot Violet a warning look.

Theodore chuckled, shooting a glance at Imogen. ‘Is she always like this?'

Violet flushed, mortified. She supposed it wasn't ladylike to talk about poor people at a boating party. Tommy leaned forward, as though to shield her.

‘Perhaps we should think about turning back,' he suggested to Theodore, changing the subject. ‘I'm working tonight, and it's a long sail to port, especially now that we're heading into the wind.'

Theodore grumbled but gave the order to prepare the sails. Everyone took it in turns to get dressed down below. Theodore grabbed the wheel gallantly and began chatting to Imogen, flattering her with compliments.

‘Look, dolphins off the bow,' Tommy called. ‘Violet, do you want to come and take a closer look?'

‘Absolutely.' She and Tommy scrambled forward to the bow. It was a little difficult, as the boat was tilting at a steep angle, beating into the wind. The wind was chilly on Violet's face, tangling her hair and whipping her skirts.

The two of them stood at the bowsprit, watching the pod of grey dolphins racing alongside the yacht, surfing the bow's wake. A dolphin leapt right out of the water, so close that Violet could almost reach out and stroke its slippery back. She gasped with exhilaration. The dolphin dived back deep underwater with a splash. Violet laughed as droplets flung up, wetting the hem of her skirt.

‘Aren't they beautiful?' she exclaimed, hanging onto the forward stay as she leaned over to get a closer look. ‘That one looked as though he was just as curious about us as we were about him.'

‘They say that dolphins are some of the most intelligent animals on earth,' Tommy said. ‘Certainly a lot smarter than some humans I know.'

Violet laughed. ‘Me too!'

Tommy looked back to the south and frowned. All around them the sky and sea were a vast, glassy blue, but down on the horizon, at the mouth of the bay, black clouds were boiling.

‘I don't like the look of that,' Tommy confessed. ‘Looks like we might have a southerly buster on its way.'

‘Wouldn't like to get caught out here in a storm,' Violet agreed.

‘Come on,' Tommy said. ‘We'd better warn the others.'

The merry mood on the yacht evaporated as the black clouds raced towards them. The crew pulled on the sheets to gain as much speed as possible, but it was impossible to outrun the storm behind them. One moment the breeze blew from the north, then the next the southerly change slammed into the yacht. The sails flapped violently. The sea transformed from glassy blue
to choppy grey. Waves smashed over the rails. Stinging rain lashed the boat.

Unprepared for the sudden change in wind direction and his reflexes slowed by the champagne, Theodore slipped and let go of the wheel. The sudden loss of steering made the boom swing wildly, slamming into Jim and knocking him to the deck. He screamed in pain, clutching his arm. The yacht rocked violently from side to side.

‘Watch your heads!' shouted Tommy as he jumped forward to grab the spinning steering wheel. He regained control and steered the yacht to stop the rocking.

Violet was sitting closest to Tommy. ‘Take the wheel please, Violet, and keep the bow facing exactly where it is now,' he asked.

Violet did as she was told, concentrating hard to fight against the pull of the wheel.

Tommy raced forward to where Jim was writhing in agony on the deck. He checked him over quickly. Audrey crawled over to help him.

Theodore struggled to his feet and pushed Violet out of the way, seizing the wheel. ‘I'll take over now – you girls, get down below. And close the hatch. We're going to turn the yacht into the wind and reef the sails.'

‘Just give me a moment to stabilise Jim,' Tommy pleaded. ‘He's in a lot of pain.'

‘So am I,' grumbled Theodore, ‘but you don't see me making such a fuss.'

‘He's fractured a bone, possibly two,' insisted Tommy. ‘I need to get him into the cabin and stabilise the arm. I just need a minute.'

Imogen and Violet gathered up cushions and picnic cups, plates and silverware. Violet climbed down the steps,
carrying a load of towels in one arm, until a sudden lurch sent her hurtling into the cabin, sprawled on the floor. She staggered to her feet, rubbing her bruised thigh ruefully.

A moment later Audrey came down, followed by Tommy supporting Jim's weight. The yacht listed to the port side. Jim was pale and trembling with pain.

‘Are you all right, Jim?' Audrey asked, moving to help Tommy.

‘I think I'll live,' he joked weakly.

‘He appears to have fractured both bones in his forearm – his radius and ulna,' Tommy explained. ‘A sling will keep it as still as possible until we get back to shore.'

Audrey helped Tommy fashion a sling from a towel and knotted it firmly behind Jim's neck. Imogen helped to make him comfortable with cushions behind his back.

‘That's better,' said Jim with a grimace. ‘It's almost worth the pain to be fussed over like this.'

‘That's all we can do for now,' Tommy said. ‘I'll go up and help Theodore.'

Violet perched on the edge of a bunk, one arm up, bracing herself against the bulkhead. Waves crashed over the deck, making it difficult to see out the windows. It was stuffy and hot in the cabin, and the pitching motion made her feel ill. She longed to breathe fresh air on deck.

‘I'm going up,' Violet announced, jumping to her feet. ‘There might be something I can do to help.'

‘No, Violet,' cried Imogen. ‘It's not safe. Theodore told us to stay below.'

‘I can't stand it in here anymore.' Violet opened the hatch, pushing hard against the wind, then slammed it shut behind her.

She gulped in mouthfuls of cold, fresh air. The rain stung her cheeks as it lashed against her, soaking her dress in moments. Tommy was back at the steering wheel, holding the yacht's bow into the wind, while Theodore and the two crew members worked to pull down and stow the foresail.

Violet clambered over to Tommy. ‘I thought I was going to be sick down there.'

Tommy nodded, his eyes scanning the storm-swept horizon to the south. ‘It's better up here in the open.'

Violet recovered almost immediately. She should have been frightened as the storm raged around them, tossing the yacht on the waves, yet, strangely, she felt calm.

‘Is there something I can do?' Violet asked.

‘Actually, could you steer for a moment and hold this bearing? I'll help Theodore reef the mainsail.'