Tanya bolted from the swing and ran to the second car in the caravan before it completely stopped. “Mama, Papa, thank you for coming so quickly. I hope you are not mad. Francis will be here in a few minutes. He is out checking the horses.”

  Pointing to the front door, she continued non-stop, “Look! All my sisters are here too! Sam and Marie drove up from the coast with us. Olga and Anastasia were waiting for us when we got here. Jonathan is such an angel to get them here!” She clapped a hand over her mouth, grateful that no one had caught her slip.

  With hardly a pause for breath, the soon to be Mrs. Marion continued, “Francis’ brother and sister-in-law are over at the church setting things up. And the Rough Riders, they are coming too! Well, some of them are coming. Mama, you must see my dress! It’s Francis’ grandmother’s dress. Oh, I am so glad you are here!”

  “Come into the house. Dr. Bratton is a friend of the Marions. His great, great I don’t remember how many greats, was a Colonel in the Militia. Defeated the British Dragoons not ten miles from here after they threatened his wife with a reaping hook! God isn’t it a beautiful day! Come on, we must hurry. I don’t want Francis to slip away into the dusk!”

  “Slow down, girl. I’m sure that Doctor Botkin will tell you that it is important to breath occasionally. Help your Mother with her things. I must speak to our host,” Nick replied as he stepped out of the touring car.

  “Mama, I can’t wait for you to see the church. It is so quaint and lovely and old. Bethesda was one of the original churches in the New Acquisition. That is what they called this area of South Carolina before the Revolution. Bethesda was founded in 1769. They shared a minister with the church at Fishing Creek. Isn’t that quaint!”

  Turning serious for just a moment, Tanya continued, “Mother, Bethesda is not Orthodox, it’s Presbyterian. But, Father Bartholomew can do the liturgy, so I thought that it would be all right. Hurry up Mama! You have to see my dress!”

  With a raised eyebrow, Alice Roman turned to Edith Roosevelt, “I guess this means the betrothal lasted through the day and that the wedding is still on. At the least, we did not bounce down the mountain for naught.” Stepping down from the car, mother embraced daughter and strode across the yard and up on the porch to meet the Brattons.

  Later, in a simple ceremony in a back-county church the willowy beauty joined the second link in the deep scarlet chain just as the sun sunk behind the oaks and pines. Fittingly, as Tanya emerged from the church, ten of the Rough Riders who had met her train in Yekaterinburg, now mounted on matching chestnut Morgans, raised their swords in salute.

  Approaching the red Stutz Bearcat roadster, Tanya glimpsed the small furry bundle of a French Bulldog puppy. Tears of joy streaming down her face, Tanya Marion slid into the roadster. With a wave, Captain Francis Marion, cranked its eight horsepower, straight-six engine, and roared out of the church yard, the new mistress of Green Willows at his side.

  Chapter 34: Into the Mist

  Biltmore Estate

  Asheville, NC

  35.54N 82.55W

  1400 GMT, March 12, 1919

  For the second time, the patriarch of the Roman family stood on the steps of Biltmore House and watched a daughter leave his care and depart on her own course. Olga Roman had chosen her direction for reasons he would never be told and to a destiny that he could not even guess.

  Even though the ultimate decision had been his, Nick felt his world slipping away. He gazed at the far empty gate for a long time after the car had departed, carrying his oldest and youngest daughters. He would only get one back.

  The previous week had been a strange mixture of sights, sounds, and emotions on the country estate. Beginning with their arrival under the cover of darkness on the fourth, Nick had felt a curious detachment. As was customary in such matters, the father of the bride’s role was limited to arriving at the appointed place on time, offering a toast or two, and picking up the bill at the end. The ladies handled the hustle and bustle of pre-wedding activities. Gentlemen were excused.

  Even in St. Petersburg, Nick had read about George Vanderbilt’s farming at Biltmore. Although George had been dead for five years, the innovative systems that he had set up in forestry, crop rotation, soil conservation, and dairy farming were running and expanding under the guidance of his superintendent. As the men were clearly in the way in the big house, it was a perfect time to get out and see what had been done with the land over the past three decades.

  Beginning on the fifth, Nick, Alex, Sam, and Dr. Botkin departed early on horseback. Accompanied by one or more of the experts that George Vanderbilt had hired, the foursome saw firsthand how the denuded hills and eroded land had been turned into the lush productive working farm that Biltmore had become. By the time he and Alice left Biltmore two weeks later, Nick felt that he had received a doctorate in how agriculture could be done.

  Looking at the before pictures and the lush results of the husbandry, Nick started rethinking his plans for West Wind Ranch. He recognized the delicate balance of the grasslands in his Dakota home. Much of the reforestation and planting that was successful along the Blue Ridge would be disastrous in the high plains of the Black Hills.

  While he should have excellent results by impounding some of the water flowing in the valley and using it for irrigation, significant changes in the water flow would seriously alter the land downstream. Conservation and balance must guide his plans. Looking into the dimness of the future, he thought that conservation would be the longest lasting legacies for both George Vanderbilt and Theodore Roosevelt.

  Maybe the West Wind Ranch could be a model of stewardship by the Romanovs.

  SAK Deep Scarlet Voyages March -May 1920

  SS West Wind

  Cargo Terminal

  Savannah, Georgia

  32.09N 81.11W

  0700 GMT, March 16, 1919

  For the third time within a year, Olga Roman watched as the deck hands cast off lines with her aboard a cargo vessel slipping out of port in the dark of night. This one was different, though. The first two had been flights from the past. This voyage was one toward her future. An unknown future, she granted, but one she felt driven to do.

  Accompanying Olga at the rail were Ann, her youngest sister, and Jonathan. Jonathan was Ann’s—she didn’t know. When she arrived at their destination, should she introduce Jonathan as Ann’s companion, body guard, or what?

  At first, after Jonathan had joined them on the train from Yekaterinburg to Vladivostok, Olga thought of the teenager as a novice in training to become a monk. He looked to be about Anastasia’s age, so he could not be a full monk or priest. Could he?

  Later Olga’s characterization blurred. While in the port waiting for transport out of Russia and knowing the Cheka had to be on their trail, Olga feared every knock on the door, every footfall in the hall, and every strange face in a crowd, unless Jonathan was with her. Why did that make a difference?

  There was a sense of an invisible bubble of protection around them. At the dock, one of Jonathan’s workmen had told the officials and guards that they were merchant sailors returning to their ship. Even though they were clearly girls in dresses, everyone nodded and agreed – extraordinary.

  Then there was the incident with the sailor in the engine room who had tried to assault her youngest sister. Jonathan picked up the man, who was twice his size, as if he was a mere bucket of coal. Ann’s young companion was about to toss the miscreant into the furnace alive. Jonathan appeared comfortable to be judge, jury and executioner all in the same moment. But he released the thoroughly broken sailor when Ann asked him to.

  Just last week in the Vanderbilt library, the most puzzling incident occurred. Using the concealed door behind the fire place on the second floor, Olga entered the library to get another book when she overheard voices below. Jonathan had been sitting with her brother and the Orthodox priest. Ann’s young man was explaining the finer points of how the Trinity really worked a daily basis! Fascinated, Olga had put thoughts of the book aside and sat on the landing atop the spiral staircase, back to the wall and listened for over an hour.

  During a pause in the conversation, Jonathan had looked up and spoke directly to her, even though she knew he could not see her. “Olga, I think the book on the history and culture of the islands you are looking for is just around the corner, third shelf fifth book from the right. The material you want is in the fifteenth chapter.”

  Flustered, Olga had hurried along the balcony and found the leather-bound volume exactly in the spot Jonathan had described. Book in hand, she had exited the library through the hidden door and headed back to her room to read. Sure enough, the fifteenth chapter focused on the history and culture of the infrequently visited island chain. She spent the rest of the afternoon learning about her future home and wondering about what had just occurred in the library down the hall.

  None of this was what one would expect from a teenager or a novice monk—not physically or spiritually. Just who or what was Jonathan? Olga was still pondering the problem when the vessel began to move.

  Slowly the SS West Wind pulled out of the harbor and out to sea. With the lights of Savannah dipping below the horizon and the sky still dark to the east, the small merchant freighter’s crew switched to at-sea routines. Based on word from their officers, this would be a special cruse. Rather than their usual port to port hopping down through the Caribbean and the east coast of Central and South America, the West Wind would drive straight home at best speed.

  As their duties allowed, the crewmen looked the three passengers over. Whoever the tall young lady watching the port’s glow dim, she must be someone important. The West Wind was returning home with only a partial load in her holds. This was not something that Captain Yon Morgan would do without direct orders.

  At any rate, they would see the home islands months earlier than expected. With the light load, the turnaround would be quick, so the senior rates expected to be back at sea in less than a week. After all, as Captain Morgan would frequently tell them, “Full Hold or on the Dole.”

  His ship safely out of the coastal traffic and steaming on as close a great circle route as possible, Captain Morgan left the bridge to check on his three passengers. The encrypted radio message from the home office was specific, vague, and mysterious all at the same time:

  PRIORITY ONE. SAK SHIPPING SENDS.

  WEST WIND MAKE PORT SAVANNAH, GA BEST SPEED.

  CARGO: 3 PASSENGERS TO BOARD 19190317 0500 GMT.

  RETURN DIRECT WEST WIND SHIPYARD BEST SPEED.

  NO STOPS ENROUTE.

  ADVISE DEPARTURE AND ARRIVAL TIMES.

  KEEP RADIO SILENCE ENROUTE.

  Captain Morgan descended the ladder to the deck below and stood before the first of the passenger cabins. It was time to see what would cut his bonus for the year. His knock was immediately answered by a tallish young lady. At least he would have pretty companionship for dinner.

  “Good morning Miss. I’m Captain Yon Morgan.” Noting that the cabin was straight with no clothes or bags lying about, he continued, “I see you are settled in already. You must have traveled by sea before.”

  “Not a lot, but some,” was the somewhat guarded answer. “It just seemed best to get it done. I hope my sister and I will not be a great deal of bother. We will, of course, take our share of the mess duties. Jonathan has some experience in the engine room, if it would be useful.”

  This was not the response he had expected. Well, nothing about this trip was usual. “That will not be necessary. Miss …?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Olga began with a chuckle. “I thought you knew who your passengers were. This whole thing seems to be secrets within secrets. I was just told to meet the West Wind at the cargo terminal in Savannah last evening precisely at midnight.”

  Holding out her hand, his primary cargo for this voyage continued, “I’m Olga Roman. I have been hired as a tutor for two small children. My sister, Ann is traveling down with me and will stay for two months. Then she and Jonathan will return home.”

  This took the seasoned captain back. I am rerouting my vessel to deliver a school teacher? What was the company thinking? Covering his confusion, he gave a short bow. “I am pleased to have the three of you aboard and look forward to you joining me at my table this evening at six, Miss Roman.”

  “No, you aren’t. We are a disruption and I expect a hindrance to an otherwise profitable vessel. Lloyds gives the West Wind an extremely high rating. Your insurance costs are about as low as any vessel within your class. Lower than most. An interesting co-incidence Captain Morgan, this vessel has the same name as the family ranch in the Badlands of Dakota. And call me Olga. I plan to limit the ‘Miss Roman’ to my pupils.”

  “Begging your pardon Miss, but who are you going to teach? Just curious, you need not answer.”

  “I doubt it is a state secret, at least not one that will remain so for long. I am to be the tutor for Prince Bernard and Princess Mary. Knowing their ages, I expect nanny would be more appropriate at this point,” came the somewhat rueful reply. Seeing the look on the captain’s face, Olga made a face and laughed. “I hope they are not the brats some royals are.”

  “Well that explains a lot. I thought for a minute the home office had gone dingy on me. With the Queen Mary’s death last year, I can see the urgency. I can assure you the West Wind will set a speed record on this leg. We are light and with full bunkers of coal. I’ll not spare the steam! You will be on the island within two weeks, or I will walk me own plank. Until then, Captain Yon Morgan is at your service, Miss Olga.”

  Turning on his heal, the captain was back in the bridge in less than a minute. The rumble from astern increased slightly. For those two little ones, the West Wind would indeed set the record port to port. Leaning into the talker he bellowed “Engineer to the Bridge. Shag it McDuffie, why aren’t you here already.”

  “Can you belay that little while Captain?” Donald McDuffie immediately responded. “This Jonathan fellow is down here with my team showing us how to get a few more turns out of the prop by adjusting the condenser flow. I’ll be swigged but it seems to work. I think we will be able to give you at least a knot more with the same amount of coal. Still want me on the bridge, Captain?”

  “Shut up and keep shoveling, McDuffie. Make it two knots!”

  Just who were these people?

  Chapter 35: The New Tutor

  SS West Wind

  At Sea Vicinity Mistime lóna (Misty Isle)

  South Atlantic Kingdom

  55.2S 15.3W

  2200 GMT, March 27, 1919

  True to his word, ten days later the SS West Wind sighted the dense fog bank perpetually surrounding the island on which she had been built. The dash to the South Atlantic Kingdom’s most secure port had been a quick, if not smooth voyage. Intent on keeping his promise, Captain Morgan had driven the West Wind hard.

  Exceeding the ship’s published performance specifications, the West Wind had smashed all her earlier sailing records. The half empty coal bunkers were ample evidence of Captain Morgan’s orders to ‘not spare the steam’. Even the cold March weather had helped little in moderating the soaring temperatures in the engine room.

  Nearing the fog and mist banks that surrounded Mistime lóna, the western most island of the South Atlantic Kingdom’s chain, Captain Morgan broke radio silence and sent his equally cryptic and encrypted wireless message to the home office.

  PRIORITY ONE. WEST WIND SENDS.

  ESTIMATE CARGO OFFLOAD 0200 GMT.

  Aware of the tumult the arrival of the priority one message would cause on the main island fifty kilometers east of his present position, a smiling Captain Morgan left the wireless room and headed for the galley. The priority of the message would insure some suit would be rousted out of his warm feather bed to hurry down to the office in the middle of the night to manage whatever grave situation had been reported.

  The SAK Shipping Company prided itself on its efficient and problem free operations. As they signaled a serious problem or major deviation from normal operations, Priority One messages were very rare. In fact, this was the only Priority One message that the seasoned sailor had sent since the war.

  Ruefully second guessing his action, the Captain thought it may be his last as well. Fixing himself a sandwich and filling his cup from the always full urn, West Wind’s master returned to the bridge.

  The next three hours would be tricky sailing. The channel into the mist enshrouding the island’s military port was unmarked and lined by rocky up thrusts from the ocean floor. Many a vessel had floundered transiting the twists and turns necessary to reach the calm waters of the secure port. Tricky yes, but the West Wind had transited this channel many times, carrying sensitive cargo to the facilities on the island.

  Signaling the engine room for slow speed, Captain Morgan withdrew the Most Secret harbor approach chart from his safe and passed it to the waiting hands of his senior navigator, standing at his station behind the captain’s chair. Staring into the fog now engulfing his ship, Yon wondered who would be meeting the West Wind when she docked in just a couple hours.

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33