The water was dark, and the salt burnt her eyes and nose. Her flailing limbs were hampered by her long skirt and petticoat. A complete panic seized her and Sohpia thrashed frantically.
Her face broke the water, but she only choked as she tried to both cough and gasp at the same moment. It was too short, and she was under again. The water blinded her. Thewrongnessof being submerged with her clothes on was part of the horror as her skirts twined around her knees like a mummy’s wrappings.
She didn’t even notice the splash nearby until a strong arm wrapped around her torso and pulled her up. She gasped and hacked, finally getting air. Clinging to the arm with desperate fingers, she kicked for all she was worth.
“Ow, ow, there! Stop,” said Mr. Belvedere, who seemed to be attached to the arm. “I appreciate the effort, but I think we’ll both be better off if you let me keep us afloat.”
“What? What—” The harbor did not have large waves, but even a small ripple was enough to go over their heads, which it did.
“Easy there,” he said as they emerged. She felt his feet kicking steadily and strongly and—somehow—he kept both their mouths just above the waterline.
“Just keep calm there. Mrs. Scott—Sophia—dash it all, I’m going to call you Sophy—the sailors will throw us a rope any moment.”
She tried to stop her frantic spasming, for she was only pulling him down. Her hat had disappeared. She tipped her face up to the ship and the people leaning over the edge. Her bleary, salt-burned eyes caught movement as the sailors flung something overboard. Although they were in the harbor, the expanse of water behind and around them felt immense to Sophia.
“That’s the dandy,” Mr. Belvedere said. He panted as he fought to keep them up. “Your gown is deceptively heavy, did you know?”
With his left hand, he reached for something floating next to him. It was a short plank of wood tied to a rope. He tucked it under his arm as another low wave washed over them.
Sophia sobbed another breath. “I can’t swim!”
“I gathered that.” He shifted to pull her somewhat behind him where she could hold onto his neck. “Or you’re very committed to the pretense of ignorance.”
She half-laughed despite her fear.
“That’s better. Let’s keep in mind that the wharf is only just on the other side of the ship. This is a farce, not a tragedy.”
“Y—yes, I suppose. Can’t they pull us up?”
“Er, yes, but not together. I’m afraid I should choke if they pulled me up while you cling so charmingly to my back. And it would mean some severe bruises for us both… Let us hope theyhave a rope ladder.” The wood plank and taut rope had removed some of the strain from his body, but Sophia could still feel his legs working to keep them afloat. Then his foot got caught in her skirt and they both temporarily submerged again as he fought to free his boot.
Captain Smythe leaned over the wall. “Hold on tight, there. We’ll pull you around to the wharf-side.”
Mr. Belvedere clung to the board, and she clung to him. The sailors above worked to tow them to the bow of the boat and then there was some kicking and dunking as the two of them got around the front keel.
“What—happened up there?” Sophia asked. “After I fell?”
“After you were pushed, you mean? Well, some of the sailors didn’t even see because they were cheering for a fight. Captain Wentworth let loose a piercing whistle and everyone subsided. He grabbed Lady Marston who was—er—beside herself, calling you all sorts of terrible things. And I jumped in to help you.”
“Well—that was idiotic.” She spoke breathlessly as the rope resumed its forward tug.
He turned his head, and his face was only inches from hers as she clung to his back. His hair was wet and plastered down, his lips pale from cold. “Excuse me? Enjoying your brush with death, were you?”
“You should’ve run away; somebody would’ve saved me.”
Was she mad or were his cheeks flushing? “Good point. I suppose it would be churlish to expect gratitude? No, you’re right, if anything, I’m still in your debt for that scene on deck. I’ve no idea what really happened or if it’s true what Caroline guessed, but you certainly gave me a chance.”
“Which you threw away!”
“I didn’t expect the harridan to throw you in the drink!”
“Oi, you two!” called Smythe. “A few strokes will take you to the wharf. There’s a ladder.”
The wharf was on pilings of some sort, a giant structure that extended parallel to the shore, and sure enough, there was a greenish, pitted wooden ladder leading up from the water to the platform of the wharf. The first mate as well as Captain Wentworth were now on the wharf above them.
“Wh—why is this ladder here?” asked Sophia, whose teeth were beginning to chatter.
“For dropped cargo, I assume,” Mr. Belvedere said. “There’s got to be a way to fish a crate or box out of the water and quickly get back up.”
