Chapter One

 

As she boarded the ship, Genevieve Prynne calmly cooled herself with an ornate Oriental hand fan. It showed a hand drawn picture of dozens of perfectly formed lilies. She received the fan from her father only a few short weeks earlier on her twenty-third birthday. The next day they left for the first leg of their journey, from New York all the way to Cairo.

The air was hot and heavy. She could feel the sweat bead beneath her corset and full dress. While she loved the exotic atmosphere in the busy streets of Egypt, she couldn’t begin to imagine how much worse the heat would get as they started the next leg of their journey.

A gob of spit hit the deck just in front of her. Genevieve stopped short and looked at the ball of yellowish goo on the deck. She followed the trail of the offending saliva up onto the roof of the steamer’s main hatch.

The sailor wore a tight albeit stained white shirt that showed him to be fit for his age—somewhere between 35 and 40, Genevieve guessed. He wore an ascot hat atop his head. But none of these were his most notable feature. No, that was the large hook arm that extended out from his left sleeve.

He raised it and waved it like a hand. “Right sorry about that, ma’am. Didn’t see you and yours down there.”

Genevieve shook her head in disdain and continued onto the boat. A sailor welcomed her into the hatch. He waved her inside. She continued down towards the guest quarters. She paused only long enough to look back at her father.

“Is that the type of man we should expect to see on our trip, father?”

Harold Prynne patted his daughter on the shoulder. “I warned you that the ships of the Nile were crewed by a rough lot. Callous, lowly types. You insisted on taking the trip with me despite those warnings.”

Genevieve sighed. “I know, father. You’re right. I just expected them to be a bit… cleaner, I suppose.”

“You will find few places with the standards to which you’ve grown accustomed daughter. Your mother’s reservation has more amenities than the places to which we travel. And you know as well the poverty that the Cheyenne live in.”

Genevieve nodded. As she did, her hand went to her long black hair. As she stroked it, she thought of her late mother. Cancer took her only months before their trip began. If only they could have made this trip a year ago…

She felt tears well in her eyes. Harold pulled his daughter in close. She rested her head against her father’s shoulder. He gently brushed the tears from her eyes.

“Now, now, my darling. You have far too beautiful a face to mar with tears. I understand them, but I hate seeing them.”

She forced a smile onto her face. “You’re right, father. It’s been nearly a year. Mama would want me to move on.”

Harold gave his daughter one last rub on the back as she pulled away. She took his hand as they continued down the stairs and into the guest quarters.

They found the captain waiting. He was a scrawny old man, his face lined with age and weather. What little hair he had stuck out in tufts from his head. A pipe hung from his mouth unlit. He smiled with a flash of wooden teeth.

“Good day to you!” he exclaimed. His words rang loudly through the enclosed space. He continued at that volume, obviously speaking loud enough to hear his own voice, even as deafness set in with his old age.

“You must be Mr. and Miss Prynne. Welcome aboard, the Heart. I’m your captain, Stuart Roy. Meals are at seven, noon, and six on the dot. We’ll be under way in just a few more minutes. Will you be joining the captain’s table for dinner?” He said the last few words with a cackle.

Genevieve looked to her father. With a smile, he said, “Of course, captain.”

Captain Roy nodded happily. “We’ll be quite full for this voyage. Mister Wagner and his men are also aboard. Mister Wagner runs a Dutch concern in search of precious gems farther down the river from your stop, just before the mouth to Victoria. I was a bit surprised when he came with nearly twenty men, but we’ve got food and accommodation for all.”

“Thank you for everything, Captain. My daughter and I hope that our search will be fruitful, but it will be good to have some time of peace aboard your ship.”

Her father offered his hand, but it was a few uncomfortable seconds before Captain Roy noticed the offered hand. He shook it quickly before hurrying off up the stairs.

“Are you sure this is the safest ship to take us down the Nile?”

Harold only smiled.

“I’m serious, father. Captain Roy doesn’t seem… well.”

“He’s the best ship captain on this water,” Harold Prynne said. “He’s navigated it more times than any other man. We’ll be fine in his hands.”

“I hope so, father. I hope so.”