Bon Voyage

Crossing the Atlantic Ocean,

October 1931

“So, you’re retiring, and you’re not recommending me for a promotion to Captain?” Von Johnson shouts.

“Not after I found out you’re Sounder Lotropis. If that’s your real name.”

Uncomfortable at seeing two members of Queen Victoria’s crew arguing, the couple standing by the nearby railing move away.

There are few women aboard as elegantly beautiful as Abigail Herford. The twenty-three-year-old, grey-eyed brunette was raised in New York’s high society and could have become an actress but fell in love with twenty-eight-year-old Lyndon Herford, a broad-shouldered, self-made financial wizard and cultured gentleman. They have been married for a month and celebrated their honeymoon in England. They chose the Queen Victoria for its opulence and safety for their return trip home.

The Queen Victoria carries 450 passengers and 200 crew members. Ornate, carved wood decorates the ship in many vital areas, including the offices, dining room, and staterooms. The ship’s four decks boast innovative equipment, such as telephones, elevators, a gymnasium, a library, and a half dozen bars. The liner also has electric sensors designed to detect any fires throughout the ship.

His anger supplanted by embarrassment, Von Johnson is stunned to be called Sounder Lotropis.

Von’s rotund, flabby body and pale, mottled face do not reflect the looks of a mariner, and his short temper and love for liquor have not made him any friends with the crew. Tall and charming, with a white, grandfatherly beard, sixty-six-year-old Captain Jackson Siani is friendly and cares for his crew’s well-being.

“Go to your quarters and stay there.”

Von wilts. “Don’t embarrass me by telling the crew I’ve been relieved.”

“We dock in New York in a few days. Until then, I don’t want you setting foot on my bridge.”

Von balls up his fists. “It was supposed to be my bridge.”

Abigail’s heel makes a squeaking sound against the deck as she and her husband continue to back away.

Captain Siani and Von turn to look at them.

“Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Herford,” Captain Siani says in a chipper tone. “I hope you’re having a good trip. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”

He tips his hat and climbs the nearby staircase, heading for the ship’s bridge.

“That other man is like a bomb ready to go off,” Abigail observes.

“Just a spat between colleagues,” Lyndon replies. “Nothing to worry about.”

***

Captain Siani rubs his stomach. “Sometimes it’s a dull aching pain. Other times it's as sharp as a knife.”

Dr. Arcelus Audaine listens closely to his patient. After 30 years at sea, Arcelus has learned that his most important tools are his ears and his heart.

“And it started before we left England?”

“The day before we departed. I remember having a quiet lunch by myself when Von Johnson stormed in to complain that I’d told the company he was drinking on duty. We argued, and I excused myself to go to the john. He was gone when I came back. But the argument literally left a bad taste in my mouth. My stomach started acting up after that.”

Arcelus hands Captain Siani a glass of water mixed with Bromo Seltzer.

“Your stomach is reacting to the stress of dealing with Johnson and your last voyage. That and all the rich food you’ve been eating. Any other symptoms?”

Captain Siani wipes the sweat from his brow. “My heart feels like it’s dancing.”

Arcelus takes a stethoscope from his bag, listening to Captain Siani’s chest.

“Yes. It’s a little irregular. Again, it’s stress related. Try to relax tonight.”

“I should be on the bridge with Julian.”

“Julian? Where’s Johnson?”

“In his cabin. Probably nursing a bottle of scotch. I relieved him of his duties.”

“Don’t worry, Julian may be green, but he’s a smart kid. Your ship’s well cared for. I’ll look in on you in a few hours.”

***

Putting down his cup of tea, Arcelus checks his watch. Five hours have elapsed since he treated Captain Siani for indigestion.

He knocks on the Captain’s door several times with no answer. Opening the door, he notices the Captain is not in bed. The bathroom light is on, so he looks inside.

Captain Siani is face down on the floor, dead.

***

Von tries to hide his glee. “Siani got what he deserved, and I’m getting what I deserve, which is command of the Queen Victoria.”

The bespeckled doctor lets out a somber sigh. “I don’t want to burst your bubble, Von, but when we wired the company to tell them about Captain Siani, they put Julian Spaulding in charge of the ship.”

Von’s complexion reddens, and he balls up his fists. “I’m the Second Officer! I should be in charge!”

Arcelus eyes the half-finished bottle of scotch on Von’s desk. “Firstly, you should lay off that stuff. You’re testy enough without it. Then you should take your complaint up with the company.”

“Fine. As soon as we toss that peacock’s body into the sea.”

“Sorry, again, Von. His family wants to bury him in New York. You should talk to Julian. He’ll fill you in on everything that’s happened. And be nice. This is Julian’s first command. He could use the support.”

Von balls up his fists, so upset that all he can do is hiss like an over-stoked steam engine.

Arcelus is the closest Von has to a friend, and there have been times, like this one, when he realizes he knows nothing about the mercurial second officer.

Arcelus lets out a tired sigh, departing.

Von reaches for the bottle of scotch. “I’ll give that little squirt all the support he needs.”

***

The following afternoon, Lyndon and Abigail leave brunch feeling festive and full.

“I’m going to have the radio officer wire a message to Mother that we’re okay,” Abigail says.

Lyndon rolls his eyes. “I’m going to check tonight’s movie. I really enjoyed the Marx Brothers’ ‘Monkey Business’ last night. Meet you in the cabin.”

“You’ll do anything to avoid my mother,” Abigail jokes.

Lyndon notices Von near a railing on the lower deck. Von is holding a potted plant. He draws his arm back as if he is going to throw it overboard, but stops when he glimpses Lyndon walking toward him.

Von offers him a half-grin.

“Is that a mystica plant?”

The blood drains from Von’s pudgy features.

“…Yeah, it is...”

“You shouldn’t throw something like that away. It’s rare and beautiful. I learned about mystica when I was a kid. My father was a florist. Watch out, though. The sap is poisonous.”

Von watches Lyndon happily bounce away.

“…I’ll keep that in mind…”

***

Third Officer Trey Liscombe leans over the bridge’s railing, finishing a cigarette.

A moment later, at 2:30 p.m., Bose Crosley, the ship’s radio operator, climbs the stairs to the bridge, sniffing the air, a concerned look on his face.

“I smell smoke.”

“Very funny,” Trey replies, stuffing the cigarette butt in a nearby bucket of sand.

“Not here, a deck below, near one of the utility closets where they keep the turpentine.”

“Show me.”

They climb down the steps and hurry down the corridor.

Trey takes a deep breath.

“Smell that?” Bose asks. “It smells like burning wires.”

Trey touches the doorknob, yanking his hand away.

“Jesus, that knob’s hotter than hell.”

Covering his hand with a handkerchief, Trey pulls the door open.

A cloud of thick, choking smoke envelopes the two men.

Bose yells “FIRE!”

Fed by the sudden rush of oxygen, the fire quickly spreads across the ship's wooden paneling and fixtures.

By the time Trey and Bose get to the bridge, the Queen Victoria’s second deck is ablaze.

Newly minted Captain Julian Spaulding quakes at the news. Unable to speak, he points at the radio.

Bose responds with, “Yes, sir. I’ll send an S.O.S. right away!”

“…Get… Get…,” Spaulding stutters.

“I’ll round up the firefighters, Captain,” Trey says reassuringly. “We’ll get things under control pronto!”

The lights go out.

Minutes later, Trey returns to the bridge, his face smudged, and his uniform smoldering.

“Every deck is on fire! The electricity is out all over the ship! The sensors aren’t working, so there’s no water pressure for the hoses. Captain, we’ve got to abandon ship!”

***

Abigail is awoken by the sound of running feet in the corridor outside of their stateroom.

A frantic pounding at their door and a young seaman delivering the breathless message, “We’re sinking!” encourage the couple to get dressed and get to the lifeboats.

The fire has spread to the carpets, wooden furniture, and recently painted ceilings. The corridors and stairwells are filled with thick smoke and orange flames, making it difficult to breathe.

The first sight they see on deck is Arcelus handing out life jackets.

The deck soon becomes too hot to stand on, melting the soles of their shoes.

On the bridge, through the smoke and unbearable heat filling the radio room, Julian Spaulding and his crew desperately try to contact the Coast Guard. The navigator reports that the hydraulic lines that help steer the ship have also been severed by the fire, making the Queen Victoria an aimless, burning hulk.

Sixty miles away on New York City’s west side, people near the docks smell the fire and can see black smoke on the horizon. A pair of Coast Guard boats are dispatched from Staten Island.

The Queen Victoria’s crew and passengers work together to launch the lifeboats. But once in the water, they make no effort to maneuver toward the ship’s stern to pick up the growing number of panicked passengers.

Arcelus’ gentle hand guides Abigail toward a lifeboat.

“No, wait! My husband!”

“I’ll be all right. I’ll see you ashore,” he calls after her.

Twenty-four petrified passengers and goggle-eyed crewmen get into the lifeboat.

At the last moment, Arcelus’ assistant hands Abigail a baby.

“His father doesn’t want him or the boy’s mother. She couldn’t see life without him, so she took a pharmacy full of pills last night. You look like the type of woman who can protect this child.”

Abgail locks eyes with Lyndon as the lifeboat is lowered, mouthing, “I love you.”

Lyndon turns to find Von calmly standing next to him, holding a bottle of scotch.

“Care for a snort?”

“No, thanks.”

The pair watches the chaos around them.

Some crew members try to fight the fire. Others toss deck chairs and life preservers overboard to provide passengers in the water with makeshift flotation devices.

As conditions worsen, the decision for the remaining passengers and crew is to either jump or burn.

Many passengers unfamiliar with jumping from high places hit the water and break their necks. Others knock themselves out and drown.

“I should have told Abigail I’d never see her again. I can’t swim,” Lyndon says to Von.

“Pity. How hard is your head?”

Lyndon looks at Von, perplexed. “What?”

Von looks to see if anyone is watching them, then smashes the bottle over Lyndon’s head.

He drags Lyndon’s unconscious body to the railing, tossing him into the sea.

“That’s what you get for eavesdropping.”

Von balances himself on the railing as the water engulfs the deck and the Queen Victoria begins to sink bow first. Screaming passengers dive into the water and are immediately sucked into the ship’s propellers.

Von dives as far away from the ship as he can. He tries to swim, fighting to keep from being shredded by the ship’s propellers.

He feels himself weakening and going under as the Queen Victoria disappears beneath the waves.

***

Colin Crowder, owner of Eagle Eye Private Eyes, waddles out of his office, so enthralled by what he’s reading that he nearly walks into a desk.

He hands a stack of papers to Addison Fairchild, his chief investigator.

“You like a good mystery,” he says. “Do you remember when the Queen Victoria burned off the coast of New York five years ago? Captain Siani’s family is suing Prince Cruise Lines for $80 million, and they need ammo to prove they weren’t culpable.”

“Didn’t he have a heart attack?”

“Siani’s family claims he was murdered.”

“What gave them that idea?”

“They had his body exhumed. Traces of mystica, a rare poison, were found in his system, which sure makes it look like murder.”

“But why?”

“That’s what you need to find out.”

***

Addison interviews the crew, including Julius Spaulding, whom Prince Cruise Lines fired for incompetence.

“Arcelus Audaine, the ship’s doctor, said I had too much potential, too much life ahead of me to die. So, he forced me into one of the last lifeboats. The fact that he had two crewmen hold me down saved me, but it didn’t save my job,” Julian says, his eyes welling up in remembrance. “At first, I wished I’d gone down with the ship. Then I met my fiancé, and she convinced me I’d been made a scapegoat. And then I got a more suitable job at the library. No stress… Not many people covered themselves with glory that day. Doc Audaine was a hero. He helped people get into the lifeboats. He even supervised the loading of Captain Siani’s corpse into one of the boats. He paid for his heroism with his life.”

“Why were you in charge? Where was the Second Officer?”

“Von Johnson was a surly drunk. He was in his cabin when the fire started. I saw him on the deck, talking with Lyndon Herford, one of the passengers, toward the end. I don’t know if he survived. Herford didn’t. No one’s heard anything about Johnson since the fire.”

***

Addison also interviews the passengers, many of whom have little to offer. One woman recommends that Addison talk to Abigail Herford, who is writing a book about the fire and has talked to the survivors.

Abigail agrees with what Addison already knows. Abigail’s excitement peaks when he mentions her husband was last seen talking with Von Johnson.

“That man gave me the willies. He was a very iffy-looking person, like he was up to something. The day before, we saw him arguing with Captain Siani.”

“About what?”

“From what I could gather, the Captain was retiring, and he wasn’t going to recommend Mr. Johnson for his job.”

“Did he say why?”

“He said he knew something about him, about his past. The strange part was he called Mr. Johnson by another name.”

“Do you remember that name?”

“I’ll never forget it because it was so unusual. Sounder Lotropis.”

***

Colin is aghast at what Addison finds out about Sounder Lotropis.

“He has a criminal record that rivals Al Capone. Theft, fraud, and, get this, arson.”

“You think he smoked the Queen Victoria?”

“His past history says he’s capable of it,” Addison replies. “When he was twenty-four, he was employed by the Friedlander Wireless Company. They had a mysterious fire. He was a suspect, but there was no proof of arson. Two years later, he joined Billy Burke Electric. Get this, a co-worker, Gordon Grey, was working on a heater with Lotropis. Lotropis asked Grey to make sure it worked and left. When Grey plugged it in, it exploded, burning him and setting the building on fire.”

“Could have been an accident.”

“Twice? Grey later told police that he and Lotropis had been arguing over a girl, and Lotropis didn’t like it when she chose him. He also convinced his boss that Lotropis had tried to kill him, which got Lotropis fired. And here’s the kicker. Gordon Grey died a month later…”

“Let me guess… He died in a fire.”

“Nope. The coroner determined he was poisoned. Mystica. Lotropis had been seen at Grey’s house the day before he died. A neighbor thought he saw Lotropis take a bottle of milk from Grey’s doorstep. But he looked after Lotropis left and it was still there.”

“Sounds like he had the opportunity to add mystica to the milk. So, he’s an arsonist and a poisoner. I’d love to know what makes Lotropis tick.”

“I’ll ask his shrink. His boss at Burke Electric had sent him to one for his alcoholism and his antisocial behavior. But Sounder Lotropis’ story ends with Gordon Grey’s death.”

“Probably because Von Johnson’s had begun,” Colin says.

“I’ll bet you lunch he didn’t go down with the Queen Victoria.”

“There’s one laborious way to find out. Check arson cases for the past five years and see if one of his aliases comes up.”

***

Addison proudly walks into Colin’s office the following afternoon.

“I found Lotropis. After getting canned by Burke Electric, he found a job better suited to his talents. He started burning down tenements for the insurance money. His professional name was ‘Randall the Candle’ Victorino.”

“Victorino… A variation on Victoria.”

“That’s how I know it’s him. That and his mug shot.”

“He’s in custody?”

“At Sing Sing. He got careless. He burned up a tenement he thought was empty. Two families, including four kids, were still living there. He’s been on death row for the past two years.”

“Tell Lotropis we’ll work with the district attorney to get his sentence commuted to life if he comes clean about torching the Queen Victoria.”

***

Warden Jolly’s expression turns grim. “I wish I could accommodate you, son.”

“What? he doesn’t want to talk to me?”

“He can’t. We executed him last night.”

***

Abigail lives a fulfilling life as a historian, remaining a widow. She pens a book, “A Short Honeymoon: the Queen Victoria Inferno,” in which she lays the blame for the disaster on Von Johnson’s jealousy. She dedicates the book to her husband and the 287 passengers and crew who died.

On the twentieth anniversary of the ship’s sinking, Abigail gets a phone call from a stranger.

“Were you given a baby boy the day the Queen Victoria sank?” the voice asks.

“Yes. When we got to New York, he was reunited with his aunt.”

“I was that baby. Thank you for saving my life.”