The Infinite Sea

5 - Copenhagen

After almost two months at sea, the Northern Splendour drifted into the still harbour waters of Copenhagen. The city carried a reserved grandeur about it, something in the way every house held itself perfectly straight and tall, yet each was painted a different, delicate shade with windows painted white like jewels.

As they slowed to a halt at the quay, the familiar face of Lieutenant Thorsten waved up at them. When they had stopped on the western coast he had gone ashore on leave to visit his family then made his way across the country to met up with the ship again here. After receiving a warm welcome from most of the crew and catching up on events, he and Captain Vanderveer went ashore, their jackets straightened and buttons polished, to report to their superiors at the White Peak's Copenhagen office.

Several hours later, as most of the crew were heading into the town to find food and entertainment, Thorsten and Vanderveer returned, along with a small handful of guests. One of them was Mr Jorgensen, an investor sent to inspect their new ship and her crew. The other two were passengers who had arranged to meet with the ship in Copenhagen, their first since the incident with Dr Northwood.

That evening there was a dinner of far higher standards than usual — roast partridge with honeyed runner beans, roasted parsnips, butter bean puree and thick, herby gravy, with all of the officers and passengers present. Jonas was introduced to the two new passengers — the first was Countess Edwina Mayfair. Recently widowed, she had elected to use her sizeable inheritance to go see the world and escape her own life for a little while. She was a rigid, pale woman who wore her hair in a severe looking bun and a string of pearls too tight for her throat. She always seemed to take a prelonged pause before replying to any question as if carefully considering how best to phrase her answer, which was then always concise and matter of fact.

The Countess was accompanied by her loyal handmaiden, a young lady perhaps only a couple of years older than Jonas. Her name was Katherine but she insisted on being called Kitty, Kitty Whitechapel. Unlike her mistress, she seemed to be vastly intrigued by her surroundings, constantly looking around the room, lifting up and inspecting each item of cutlery as if trying to absorb every possible detail. She had a slightly disproportionate appearance — her limbs and neck still a little too long for the rest of her body and had long, mousey brown hair that never seemed to stay still, repeatedly slipping past her ears or slipping down over her shoulders so that she was forced to constantly fidget with it. There was something about her that led Jonas' eyes to keep wandering to her end of the table, possibly the fact that he hadn't seen anyone his own age for some time, let alone a girl. He wouldn't have said she was pretty, at least not in the way that artists liked to present such characteristics, but she seemed to emit a subtle radiance that Jonas found pleasing.

Of course Jonas didn't get a chance to speak to either of the new arrivals directly. He was briefly introduced to Mr Jorgensen as the businessman was departing. The man thanked Jonas for all his hard work and then looked as if he couldn't figure out whether he should shake the boy's hand or pat his head, and so opted for neither.

Despite both living on the same deck and eating at the same table it was almost a week before Jonas and Kitty actually spoke, and when they did it was following a minor misunderstanding. Heading out of his cabin to spend some time staring out at the sea, Jonas spotted his copy of 'The Black Arrow' lying out on the wardroom table. He couldn't remember having taken it out of his cabin but knowing it was undoubtedly his, picked it up and carried it with him up to the prow.

As he sat there, legs dangling over the side, enjoying the cool wind ruffle through his now almost shoulder length hair, he decided to flick through the pages of his book despite having read it a good three of four times already since purchasing it in Donostia. He was shocked to find someone else had been reading it. The spine was far more broken and creased, and some pages were folded over at the corners. Someone else on the crew must have helped themselves to it from his room. Not that he would have any objection to others reading and enjoying his little collection of novels — a dozen hardbacks and twenty or so pulps — but just taking without asking and then so degrading the book from its previously, near pristine condition, was highly displeasing. And then to make matters even worse, he discovered that they had written on some of pages. They had actually used a pencil and written little notes or questions down the margins or highlighted words or sentences as if trying to draw some deeper meaning or understanding from them. He couldn't believe it. What sort of person would actually write on a book, let alone one that didn't even belong to them?

"So you're the thief," came a soft voice, followed by the young handmaiden popping herself down beside him. She smiled and snatched the book from his hands. Jonas was at a loss as to how to react. He was still reeling from the discovery of the literary sacrilege and was now being accused of theft, only in turn to be stolen from himself. Had the entire world been turned upside down?

"I don't mind you borrowing, but at least ask first," she said, casually flicking through the pages, and it dawned on Jonas what had happened.

"Oh it's yours," he said and apologised, explaining the mix up.

"Well at least you have good taste in the things you decide to steal," Kitty joked. "This is one of my favourite books, my father gave it to me when I was little. I prefer Kidnapped though."

"Me too!" exclaimed Jonas. He got on fine with all of the crew but it was really only the officers that could read and few of them were inclined to do so purely for pleasure, not even Thorsten who said it reminded him too much of schooling. "I have a copy in my cabin."

"You do? I've not read it in years, could I borrow it?"

Jonas was about to give an excited "yes", but then his eyes fell once more to the doodled copy lying in the girl's lap and the thought of one of his book's befalling a similar fate made him less keen.

"I promise I won't write on it," she grinned, reading his thoughts. "And I'll even use a bookmark to mark the pages. Or I know — I could lend you one of my books, as a sort of deposit? Plus then you could read that as well."

Jonas felt a lot happier about this setup and so agreed. She insisted on shaking his hand to seal the agreement and they introduced themselves properly. Jonas — maker of machines, scrubber of decks, wanderer of the seas. Kitty — servant, traveller, destroyer of books.

When Jonas saw Kitty's little collection of a dozen hardbacks he couldn't believe what he was seeing — half of the books were ones he'd read and enjoyed and the rest where one's he longed to read but hadn't managed to get a hold of. She had been given a single shelf in the cabin she shared with her mistress and half of it she had filled with books, the rest with an assortment of little vials and pill boxes for the treatment of the various allergies and minor conditions that apparently beset her.

Whenever Jonas wasn't helping out in the galley or assisting Thorsten and when Kitty wasn't attending to the Countess needs, without even thinking about it, they would seek each other out and either sit at the prow or at the large wardroom table, and chat away about everything and anything. Except their pasts. It seemed the handmaiden had no interest in discussing her own past and Jonas was thankful that she didn't push in discovering more about his. He borrowed a deck of well worn cards from Doyle and taught Kitty to play Spit and Rummy. In turn, Kitty showed him a variety of word games, quickly filling up sheet after sheet with hastily scribbled collections of words and scores.

Theirvoyage continued along the coast of Sweden,going a little further than Stockholm. In the past, they most likely would hadturned eastwards at this point and headed for Østeria, probably Gdansk. But, asThorsten explained, a line of Østerian warships and zeppelins formed animpassable blockade down the Baltic Sea. Over the years, Østeria had been allowingless and less visitors and trade, till the point now where it had becomecompletely forbidden for any foreigner to set foot on her shores. Likewise, noone was allowed to leave. The gates of Østeria were firmly closed to theoutside world and not even information or rumours passed through about what washappening inside. It was no wonder the Britannians were so nervous about thesituation. Perhaps the Østerians were suffering some great plague and for thecommon good had resolved to stop it from spreading outside their borders. Perhapsthey just wanted to protect their culture from outside influences. Or maybethey were building a great army and making ready for war.