‘But it was your flag then? Your swastika?’ Fen was quietly elated that her stab in the dark had hit home. She continued bravely questioning the angry first officer, who, despite his denials of the murder, was showing quite the propensity to hate, and a temper every bit as quick to ignite as Spencer’s.
‘Yes, all right, it was my flag,’ he snapped. ‘I was keeping it to give to the mayor of my small town. A town that had been destroyed by the occupiers. I wanted to make sure the townsfolk could see it go up in flames.’
‘Catharsis for what happened to them in the war?’ Fen checked that she was on the right track. ‘Though perhaps realising a German was on board and killing him was more cathartic than waiting to take the flag home?’
Bisset was silent for a while and stayed so as the first course was served and praise sent back to the chef for his innovative creation of prawns dressed in a piquant but creamy sauce and served in a cocktail glass. As the conversation around the table, led by Mrs Archer, turned to what an excellent appetiser this would be for Eloise and Reginald’s wedding breakfast, Bisset answered Fen.
‘It was stolen from me, I swear on my life. If you don’t believe me, ask your friend Dodman, he helped me with my broken door lock on the first night of the voyage.’
No more was said on the matter, though Fen did make a mental note to ask Dodman about the lock as she watched Eloise smile wanly at her aunt’s menu suggestions and stare over to another of the tables where Frank Johnstone was seemingly having a wonderful time, if his wild and enthusiastic gesticulations to the laughing Etherington brothers were anything to go by. More than ever, Fen was sure that the poor girl really did not want to wed Mr Vandervinter and would much rather marry the man of her choice.
With Fen not feeling particularly warm towards Bisset on one side and Eloise mooning over Frank being at another table on the other, the conversation had started to stutter somewhat by the time the salmon en croute main course had come to the table.
The captain, obviously hoping that this final night of the voyage would go with a certain swing, decided it was time for the passengers, those who wanted to at least, to be invited to the bridge. He beckoned over a steward and asked him to let those on the other tables know that the invitation was extended to all of the passengers in first and second class.
By the time the warm American-style apple pie and cream had been served for pudding, it had been decided that a group of twenty or so passengers would follow the captain out and partake of a tour of the bridge.
‘How exciting,’ said Eloise, rather breathily, and Fen smiled at her. She’d seen her new friend look over to Frank Johnstone’s table again and see him nod his head at the steward. Where Frank was to go, Eloise, it seemed, was to follow.
‘I think it all sounds highly irregular,’ Mrs Archer had proclaimed, declaring that she for one would not be heading up to the cold of the lifeboat deck in order to reach the bridge. ‘Eloise, I know you have a penchant for creeping around those decks late at night, but don’t for a minute think I want to join you!’
‘Oh, Aunt M,’ Eloise chided her. ‘Surely it’s all part of the voyage. We’ve had little else fun to do on this trip.’
Lagrande coughed into his napkin and Bisset took the cue to describe more about the workings of the ship’s navigational equipment. ‘It’s the height of modernity, madam,’ he was saying as a way to cajole a resolute Mrs Archer into joining them. Eventually it was agreed that Eloise could go, but she and Fen should stay together and not get separated from the rest of the group. So, before long, the two young women, along with James and several other diners, filed out of the dining room and followed the crew members to the uppermost decks.
Bisset, his harsh words to Fen of a short while ago not showing at all in his demeanour now, had taken on the role of educator and was telling the assembled passengers all about the various knobs and switches, the electronic version of what would have been the ship’s wheel back in the day.
Fen and Eloise had found themselves at the back of the group and Fen was struggling to make out what Bisset was saying. She turned instead to Eloise.
‘It was a lot quieter up here when I was invited in to talk to the captain, you know, when Spencer had been taken to the brig.’ Fen looked around her and spied the captain’s office.
‘Is that where he hides himself away?’ Eloise followed to where Fen was looking. ‘When Aunt M gets too much.’ She giggled to herself.
The captain himself was talking to a smaller group of passengers, including James and the ancient Nettletons, showing them the historic barometers they had on board and how they compared to the modern instruments. Fen and Eloise walked over to be closer to them, vaguely interested in what the captain was saying. Eloise was obviously in a coquettish mood, especially as Frank Johnstone had decided to break away from the main group to come and join them.
‘It’s a darn sight foggier up here than it was the other night,’ she winked at
