Spencer cried desperately, “Sibylla! Look out!” He began to run, knowing it was too late.
At exactly that moment, Benjamin heard the net creak. What he saw took his breath away. The hoist of the crane hovered almost directly above them, and from its massive hook dangled a full net. It contained six barrels, each made to hold one hundred liters of rum and each as tall as a grown man’s hip. Suddenly, the net jolted and tilted dangerously to one side. Benjamin realized that at least two of the overly taut ropes had already snapped. He was gripped with fear.
“Let’s go!” he bellowed, leaning toward Sibylla and trying to wrest the reins from her. “Go!”
That’s when the top two barrels slipped from the net. They came down on the pavement directly next to the gig with a deafening crash. Wood splintered and rum splashed all over the pier. Sibylla cried out, the horse bolted, and Benjamin only just avoided being thrown out into the narrow space between the ship and pier. The gig flew up the gangway on one wheel and briefly became airborne before coming down hard and sliding over the pier wall. It was only the side of the Queen Charlotte that prevented carriage, horse, and passengers from landing in the harbor basin. Sibylla yanked on the reins and leaned all the way back. But the spooked mare fought her. The iron of the axle grated on the stone and caused sparks to fly as they careened along the quay wall. Sibylla again pulled on the reins, but by now they had left the ship’s wall behind and tipped closer to the harbor basin. As Benjamin lost his balance, Sibylla cried out and reached for him. The reins slipped from her hands, and Sibylla and Benjamin plunged headlong into the water.
The water was cold and painful as it swallowed Sibylla. Flailing toward the surface, she felt her right foot come in contact with something soft. Benjamin, perhaps? She was surrounded by slimy green water. She kicked vigorously, but her coat and ample petticoats threatened to drag her down. Her lungs ready to burst, she feared a pitiful death by drowning. Fear giving her strength, Sibylla kicked free of some of the heavy fabric and finally broke through the surface.
“Help!” she gasped. “Help! I can’t swim!”
Wet strands of hair covered her face and eyes. In her effort to move them aside, she again went under and began to swallow the fetid, brackish water. All of a sudden, someone was pulling her up by her hair. She emerged, gagging and spitting.
“Stop kicking, damn it!” she heard Benjamin’s voice. “Otherwise we’ll both drown.”
He had one hand under her chin to keep her above water and his other was moving them both toward the quay. He moved with excruciating slowness, hampered not only by her weight but that of his own soaked clothing. Yet Sibylla’s breathing became calmer. She could see papers from Benjamin’s folder, the ink running off in rivulets before going under. And over there was her hat, dancing in the swill. Green algae had managed to wrap itself around the brim like some malicious decoration. The figurehead of the Queen Charlotte seemed to be mocking her.
She heard excited voices above and made out her father and one of his terrified associates standing at the edge of the pier. And she also saw the petrified crane operator, a worker, and Captain Brown. A few sailors had been following the drama, hanging over the ship’s railing. One shouted, “That’s the newest way to catch mermaids!”
The insolent remark snapped the captain out of his shocked trance. “What the devil are you gawking at?” he bellowed. “Off with you, get to work! Go and scrub the decks! I want them clean enough to eat off!”
The smirking men slinked away.
Meanwhile, Benjamin had reached one of the many iron ladders along the quay wall and pushed Sibylla toward its rungs. She climbed as fast as her wet clothing would allow, reassured by the fact that Benjamin was right behind her. When she had reached the top, she felt indescribable relief at finally being on terra firma again.
Her father’s face was ashen as he took Sibylla in his arms and wrapped his coat around her shoulders. “What on earth are you doing here, child?” he asked in disbelief.
“It was because of Oscar,” she whispered, feeling ridiculous. “I wanted to tell you about his match on Sunday.”
Richard looked at her incredulously for a moment. “That’s why you came to the harbor? Are you quite . . . ?”
Cognizant of the curious listeners all around, he did not complete the sentence. Yet his admonition stung. Even though she had mere moments ago been in serious danger of drowning, still her father wasted no time in finding fault.
Sibylla looked around and was relieved to see one of the workers caring for her mare, who had managed to avoid taking a plunge. Even the gig looked to be intact, if a bit scratched.
Benjamin joined them on the pier. Water dripped from his coat, there was algae clinging to his shirt collar, and those carefully polished shoes were ruined.
Spencer pressed Benjamin’s right hand. “You saved my daughter. I am deeply in your debt, Mr. Hopkins.”
Benjamin bowed. “Any gentleman would have done the same, sir,” he said, the cold of the harbor water making his teeth chatter.
Sibylla was unable to suppress a smile. “My heartfelt thanks to you as well, Mr. Hopkins.”
“Are you well, Miss Spencer? Do you need a doctor?”
She shook her head. “I am not hurt, thank you. I’m afraid I did hit the water rather hard, but it’s likely no more than a few bruises.” She sneezed.
“If all you get is a cold, you’ll be lucky, silly girl,” her father grunted. He waved over a dockworker and pressed a few coins into his hand. “Take two uniforms to warehouse three. Sibylla, you will have to be content wearing men’s garb until you get home.”
He placed his arm around his daughter and bade Benjamin to follow. “Come with us, Hopkins! We’ll find some sacks of coffee behind which you can dry yourselves and dress yourselves.”
“I’ll follow in just a moment, sir,” Benjamin said as he pulled out his handkerchief to wipe some algae from his shoes.
“Some nets just tear at the right moment, hey, Hopkins?” he heard someone say behind him.
Benjamin looked over his shoulder and saw Nathanial Brown, captain of the Queen Charlotte, looking at him with his cold black eyes.
“What do you mean? Did you have something to do with this?” Benjamin instinctively stepped away.
“Quite a clever way to cover up our little business, don’t you think?”
Benjamin gasped. “You almost killed us, damn it!”
Nathaniel Brown smiled disdainfully. “Is it my fault that you turn up at the wrong moment with the owner’s daughter? If you’re smart, you’ll report to Spencer that all six of the barrels fell and were broken.”
“All six?” Benjamin looked at the crane. “But it was only—”
“Six, you idiot! Two plus the four we unloaded on the Thames earlier. Spencer will never notice. He was so preoccupied with his daughter that he never even looked at the nets.”