The Stolen Sapphire. Sarah Masters Buckey

perhaps Charlotta didn’t know as much as she pretended to.

      They had reached the foot of the stairs, and the young man bowed politely to Mademoiselle Étienne and Nellie. “I’m sorry that Plato disturbed you, ladies.”

      “He’s sweet,” said Nellie, reaching out to touch the monkey’s soft fur. “I knew an organ grinder’s monkey that could do clever tricks. Does Plato do tricks, too?”

      “Not yet,” said the young man as he opened a door labeled First Class Cabins and ushered Samantha, Nellie, and Mademoiselle Étienne through it. “Though my uncle is sure he’s very intelligent.”

      Plato nodded and chattered as if he agreed with this last statement. They had entered a corridor with white walls and polished wood floors. Both sides of the corridor were lined with numbered doors, and Samantha guessed that these were the cabins.

      “Personally,” the young man continued, “I think the little creature is more mischievous than clever. My uncle doesn’t agree, though, and he’s the boss. I’m just traveling as his assistant. Oh, excuse me, I haven’t introduced myself—my name’s Harrison Wharton III, but please call me Harry.”

      Mademoiselle Étienne introduced the girls and herself as they walked down the corridor. “You’re their French tutor?” Harry exclaimed to her. “Why, I assumed you were the girls’ older sister. Are you from Paris? I spent two wonderful years there…”

      Harry and Mademoiselle Étienne began to speak rapidly in French. Samantha caught a few words here and there—Mademoiselle Étienne mentioned that she had taught the Larchmont children; Harry talked about living in Paris—but most of what they said was incomprehensible to her.

      Plato, meanwhile, peeked over Harry’s shoulder, and Samantha and Nellie waved to him. He eagerly waved his tiny hand back at them and clucked his tongue as if he wanted to join the conversation, too.

      Mademoiselle stopped in front of Cabin 7. “Good day, Monsieur,” she said, and then she added with a smile, “Good day, Plato.”

      Harry tipped his hat. “Plato and I shall hope to see you ladies later.”

      As Harry continued down the corridor, Mademoiselle opened the door to their cabin. Inside, Grandmary’s maid, Doris, straightened her apron as she met them. She was a tall, thin, elderly woman who was quite hard of hearing. “I just finished unpacking your trunks,” she announced loudly to Samantha and Nellie. “And the Admiral says to tell you that he’ll be by at seven to take you to dinner.”

      “Thank you!” Samantha answered at the top of her voice. Doris smiled and nodded as she left the room.

      Samantha looked around. “Jiminy!” she exclaimed. “This is how I always thought a ship’s cabin should look.”

      On Samantha’s first voyage with her grandparents, they had sailed on a large, modern ship, the S.S. Londonia. The trip had been wonderful, but Samantha had felt almost as if she were steaming across the ocean in an elegant hotel.

      The Queen Caroline, however, was a much smaller, older ship. It was clean and neat, but, as the Admiral had said, there were no modern frills. Every inch of space in their cabin was carefully used. Bookshelves and a wooden table were built into the walls. Straight-backed chairs flanked the table, and just above it, a porthole let in light and offered a view of the choppy waves outside.

      “It’s very nice,” agreed Nellie, a little uncertainly. “But where do we sleep?”

      “Voilà!” said Mademoiselle Étienne, smiling. She gestured toward a door on the left that blended into the wood paneling. Then she motioned toward a door on the opposite side of the room. “And my bed is there.”

      Samantha and Nellie opened the door to their bedroom. It was so small that Samantha felt as if she’d stepped inside a giant cupboard, but the neatly arranged space had its own porthole, a closet, built-in drawers, and a pair of berths—one upper and one lower.

      “I’ve always wanted a bed like this,” Samantha said as she climbed to the upper berth. She ran her hands over the soft, red woolen blankets. They smelled like ocean air. “Haven’t you?”

      “I’ve slept in bunk beds before,” Nellie admitted as she climbed up the ladder, too. “But they weren’t nearly as nice as this!”

      First the girls sat on the top berth, leaning over so that they wouldn’t hit their heads on the low ceiling. Next they looked into the drawers where Doris had put away their things. Samantha found Clara, her Nutcracker doll, and Nellie took out her doll, Lydia. Then both girls brought out the books Aunt Cornelia had given them as bon voyage presents.

      “Oh, it’s Treasure Island!” Samantha exclaimed as she unwrapped her book. “It’ll be easy to imagine that I’m on the ship with pirates!”

      “I got Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland!” Nellie reported. “Aunt Cornelia knew I wanted to read it.”

      Holding tight to Treasure Island, Samantha looked longingly at their bunk beds. She wanted to curl up on the top berth and read until it was time to get ready for dinner—but she was sure Nellie would want that berth, too. Samantha hesitated. Then she had an idea. “You can have the top berth for the first half of the trip,” she offered. “Would you mind if I had it for the second half?”

      “I wouldn’t mind at all,” Nellie said as she sank down on the lower berth. “But I’d rather take this bed first.”

      Samantha noticed that Nellie looked pale. “What’s wrong?”

      “I think…” Nellie glanced out the window at the churning seas, then groaned and buried her face in the pillow. “I think it’s the ocean!”

      At exactly seven o’clock, the Admiral knocked on the cabin door to escort the ladies to the dining room. Mademoiselle Étienne opened the door. “Ah, Samantha,” she said, smiling, “it is your grand-père.”

      “Grand-père!” the Admiral exclaimed. He looked very distinguished in his black evening suit and topcoat. “Why, I like the sound of that even better than ‘the Admiral.’”

      “Bonsoir, Grand-père!” Samantha said with a polite curtsy. She was wearing a crimson satin dress, white lace gloves, and her new black high-button boots, all polished and shiny. But she was the only one in the cabin ready to go out for dinner.

      “Please excuse us, sir, but Nellie and I both have the mal de mer,” Mademoiselle Étienne explained to the Admiral. “I think it would be best if we did not go to dinner tonight.”

      “Well, Samantha, your grandmother is a bit seasick, too, so it will be just the two of us,” the Admiral said. He bowed and held out his arm. “Shall we go?”

      Samantha felt elegant as she walked up to the main deck with her grandfather, her gloved hand resting lightly on his arm. They passed by the first-class dining room, which looked dark and deserted. The Admiral said that, since there were only about a dozen first-class passengers on this voyage, they all would be eating in the Captain’s own dining room.

      Farther down the hall, the Admiral opened a door labeled Private Dining Room. He ushered Samantha into a warm room that smelled temptingly of roasted turkey. A large round table filled most of the room. Silverware and crystal glasses gleamed on the table, which was covered with a delicate lace tablecloth laid over a starched linen cloth. The only illumination in the room came from the center of the table, where several candles burned in the branches of a silver candelabra.

      Light from the candles danced on the faces gathered around the table. A distinguished-looking man with steel-gray hair and a short beard stood up as Samantha and her grandfather entered the room. “Admiral Beemis!” he said, smiling. “It’s good to see you again after all these years, sir. I’m honored to have you and your family aboard my ship.”

      “Jolly good to sail with you, Captain Newman,” declared the Admiral as the