23rd February

Dearest Cecelia,
After having the most eventful few days on White Owl Island, I am enjoying a moment or two of quietude amongst my shipmates. I have been introduced to an artistic form of meditation, a pen and ink drawing where the focus is to concentrate on putting down one stroke at a time onto finest quality drawing paper. I am yet to reach the standards of my more experienced fellow artistes on board, but I did rather enjoy myself and felt very relaxed on its completion. Much needed relaxation, I can assure you.

I suppose you might now be wondering where on earth I have chosen to hide the golden box containing the Scroll of Lemuria? Let me tell you, dear sister, I have made a rather inspired selection. You will recall my very first visit to the glass garden right here on the Vulcania? I stepped back in time to be confronted by the most terrible of memories. I had held the sea shell to my ear and heard the prophecy of your impending death. Oh, dearest, how I miss you! Well, darling, I returned to the garden and meditated as L’Enchanteur had taught me, focusing intently on my breathing. Inhaling  and exhaling ever so slowly, all the while visualising that very same beach of our youth.

I have secreted the box in a small hollow in the cliff face where the high tide does not reach. The beach is so familiar to me, as indeed any favourite childhood playground might be and so I have no qualms about being able to locate the box again should I need to. Since this place resides only in my memories and can only be accessed by myself, I have no doubt that my secret is safe here.

Cecelia, there is still more excitement to come. Dear Violetta is soon to be sixty! I am to attend a lavish party two days hence. Joyous news indeed!

Elizabeth.

14th February

Cecelia, dearest,

Anticipation abounds as we prepare to disembark at White Owl Island. There is to be a ritual, honouring the Earth and asking Mother Earth and Father Sky for assistance in healing and nurturing the fertile soil. As we meditate on our dependence on the soil, we are to crumble bread and call upon the Land Spirits to keep the Earth safe from harm. This ritual is to be followed by a time of community between the island’s inhabitants and the passengers aboard the Vulcania. We are each to bring a dish to share with one another. Our evening will finish with the celebration of the Gala Ball.

Lottie and I have spent several days fashioning our costumes and I can now unveil them to you in their completed form. I am to be dressed as Clara Bow, the It girl and Lottie will be attending as Mary Pickford. I do so love the silent films and their glamorous stars! Lottie has always left her hair long and so is able to wear those divine ringlets which fall softly about her shoulders. My hair is cropped rather shorter. As a result, we have spent much of the day creating fluffy curls atop my head. I do look quite fetching. In fact, the resemblance between myself and Clara is rather remarkable. Drawing the eyebrows just so was a formidable task, but Lottie is simply wizard with a pencil.

The dish we are each to provide for the potluck dinner proved to be more of a challenge. I am so used to our dear cook preparing all of our meals back at the house in Yorkshire that I really haven’t a clue where to begin in the kitchen. I do rather hope there will be a place in which I can purchase such a dish once we are ashore.  I am quite well prepared for the festival offering though. There was something of an abundance of food at lunch today and I have managed to save some of the lovely warm, fresh bread rolls. I have distributed them among our group. Mine is in a small, satin drawstring bag which slips rather nicely onto my wrist.

Now to round up the others. I believe we are exiting the ship en masse. I hop I can navigate the gangplank in my heels without too much of a fuss!

Elizabeth.

10th February

Dearest Cecelia,
What a marvellous time I had at the theatre on Friday afternoon! Dear Rilla was able to accompany our party. I hadn’t seen her in what must be the longest time. She’s well and having the gaiest time with her family. We have such similar taste in shoes and accessories. I simply had to admire her gorgeous patent, heeled Mary Janes and new cloche!

Oh, but Miss Evelyn Laye was wonderful in the role of Sarah. She’s fair and doe-eyed, truly the most beautiful of creatures. Bitter Sweet is not one of Mr Coward’s finest storylines but the music was enchanting nonetheless. What a memorable song is ‘I’ll See You Again’. I find myself humming it as I go about my day. Jack has resurfaced at last, appearing at my side during the matinee and inviting himself to sit with our intimate group. He has apparently been ‘boning up’ on a few things, namely our next port of call, White Owl Island. No-one knows quite what to expect, but he tells me the guardians are very particular about who is allowed to venture onto the protected heritage sites. There is an extensive conservation programme in place and we are to respect the regeneration taking place.

While on board, Jack has been commissioned to write several articles for The Review. His Editor-in-Chief feels that their New York readership would welcome a little Lemurian adventure as something of a departure from the usual restaurant and entertainment reviews. Travellers can join the cruise at any time from several capital cities around the world. The Review has agreed to pay Jack’s passage as long as he ‘comes up with the goods’, to coin his own phrase. I was finally able to show Jack the journal as I always keep it about my person, and gave him a potted version of my discoveries to date. His response was to slap me between the shoulder blades in a hearty fashion, which knocked the wind right out of me!

‘We’ll make a reporter out of you yet, Lizzy.’

Now, I don’t know why that excited me so, Cissy, but it did. The very thought of me turning out newsworthy articles and burying myself in research..

‘Hey, let’s not get carried away here, doll. I’m just yanking your chain.’

His voice broke my reverie and I felt my face flush with embarrassment. Am I terribly transparent, Cissy? I always rather envied stuffy old Charles’ writing career. Perhaps..

With Noel Coward at an end, I wandered back to my cabin to dress for dinner. Jack was chivalrous enough to accompany me and apologised for his earlier carelessness. He hadn’t realised, clearly, that I genuinely did fancy myself as a journalist and kindly offered to put in a good word for me with his Editor-in-Chief. I am to show him some of my work before we reach White Owl Island. In return for his charity, I have offered to direct him to the glass garden.  As I write, I find myself singing a catchy tune from Bitter Sweet. I have heard other theatre-goers muttering of the indecency of the lyrics and its inclusion in the operetta. Poppycock, I say! The song is sung by four young dandies and I think it lends itself well to the play.  We reside in much more liberal times and I applaud Noel Coward for his apparent reference to homosexuality. I will allow you to decide for yourself, dear sister, by including a verse or two for your perusal.

Pretty boys, witty boys, you may sneer
at our disintegration.
Haughty boys, naughty boys,
Dear, dear, dear!
Swooning with affectation..
and as we are the reason
for the nineties being gay,
we all wear a green carnation.

Your

Elizabeth.

8th February

Cecelia,
How queer! I haven’t been able to find Jack anywhere on the ship. He’s never in his cabin when I knock and appears not to have taken any meals in the dining room. Perhaps he’s gone ashore, though one does wonder how since we are so far out to sea. I have been making the most of my free time and have rather enjoyed this uncommonly temperate climate. There is always such a soft, cool breeze blowing gently from the North during my morning sabbatical along the promenade. I don’t miss Old Blighty in the slightest.

After this morning’s constitution, I took my breakfast with Violetta, in her quarters. She was most excited to learn of my latest findings and is eager to be of assistance once we arrive at White Owl Island. Some of her dearest friends inhabit the island and she is quite looking forward to introducing them to me. Much of my time will be spent searching for answers to the many questions raised by the Latin journal, but I’m quite determined to leave a little time free for a social gathering or two. Violetta will be celebrating her sixtieth birthday whilst on the island and that’s one bash I wouldn’t want to miss. I’m to meet her dear friends from the S.A.S – Sixty and Sassy club, of which she is about to become a fully-fledged member.

Now, I really must find that incorrigible American. We have much to discuss and I haven’t got all day. I was very much hoping to attend the matinee of Noel Coward’s operetta, Bitter Sweet at the Rose and Swan Theatre directly, with Teddy and Lottie and a few of the other passengers. Those two have been as thick as thieves since we left the Temple People in our wake. I really must pry Lottie away from that brother of mine for a spot of girl talk over martinis. I have this divine new oxblood coloured lipstick in an intricately engraved silver compact that I know Lottie is just dying to get her grubby mitts on. Something tells me I should have bought one for the both of us!

Toodle pip, sis!

Elizabeth.

5th February

Cissy,
I have worked on the journal periodically throughout yesterday and this morning. I’m quite certain I have gleaned as much as I can for the time being. The handwriting is tiny and crawls haphazardly across the page, rendering much of the text illegible. Using key words, and a liberal amount of supposition, I have been able to piece together the following..

The Royal Tree, also known as the Oldest Living Tree (the Living Tree of local legend) is an intimate grove of trees which are thousands of years old. These trees were to be found on the grounds of Obas’ah and his clan’s stately home on White Owl Island. In this grove stands the First Tree, from which all of the other trees in the grove were seeded. The paper on which the Scrolls of Lemuria were written was taken from this tree.

Obas’ah and his carefully chosen Council of Elders would form a circle around the trunk of the Oldest Living Tree, and chant in praise for the blessings of the land and its people. Imbued with the tree’s energy, Obas’ah was able to write the ancient secrets as they came to him in a vision. The secrets were then divided among the Councillors. Each Councillor possessed the secrets of just one scroll, and each was guarded by a skin-walker from the honourable and selfless Catsis clan. Only Obas’ah held the secrets of all six scrolls. Each scroll holds the secret to one of the High Powers that came to Obas’ah in his vision. These powers were telekinesis, telepathy, immortality, prophecy, levitation and the power that comes with All Knowlege. The journal mentions them by description When Obas’ah’s son betrayed him by murdering his own brother in order to inherit the Archipelago in its entirety, the Council were instructed to disperse and take refuge in secret locations and to return only when the new heir was apparent.

Six scrolls, six powers, six Councillors. Two of the Council have relinquished their scrolls to The Collector already. Jack and I must find the others before The Collector does. I should inform Jack of my latest findings at once. I shall search for him soonest. While I am on board the ship though, any further discovery of the legends will simply have to wait. The Pythian Games are about to begin and I, for one, wouldn’t miss them for the world.

Elizabeth.

3rd February

Darling Cissy,
it does pay to be tenacious when one has a problem to solve. After a rather disappointing start on the journal yesterday morning, I am beginning to make some sense of the script within its pages. Violetta has been most helpful and I find her company to be quite stimulating.

As arranged, I called on Violetta after 4pm. She received me in the comfort of the most sumptuous living quarters I have seen so far. They are not large by any means, but since Violetta retains her cabin all year round, she has named it The Penthouse and has decorated it in a manner befitting one of an elevated status in society. Her maid, Anamaria, addresses her as Contessa and I wonder if this is merely an affectation. Violetta IS the widow of a Count, though which one, I confess I do not know. She speaks Italian so rapidly that I did not catch his name. Ah well, I am sure the relevance of such a detail is neither here nor there.

Violetta is a perfect hostess. She had Ana serve us wine before allowing her to retire for the evening, then proceeded to order an array of delicious cold meat, cheese and dessert platters. There was more than enough food to serve a gathering of half a dozen or more! We dawdled through our supper, savouring the food and wine as the Europeans do, conversing on many subjects until finally, we lit upon the subject of my quest. I brought Violetta up-to-date and showed her the slim journal. Her eyes sparkled as she caressed the cover before gingerly turning the pages.
‘Sweet Elizabeth. This is not my beautiful native tongue which is inscribed upon these pages.’
‘It’s not? Well then, what in the dickens could it possibly be? This word here.. amputata.. it sounded Italian as I spoke it aloud.’
‘Si, this word is similar to the English word amputate, and the Italian word amputare,’ she agreed. ‘However, it is neither language but one which is now dying. Latin. This word here, regis, means royal. This word here, next to it, is arbor.. tree. We are looking at a passage which describes in great detail how some part of a ‘royal tree’ was ‘disconnected’ in some manner.’
‘Latin,’ I mused. ‘How is it that you are able to read Latin, Contessa?’
‘My darling, I am Italian as you know, and a very good Catholic girl to boot,’ she winked. ‘I attend the Latin Mass whenever I happen upon one. As I said, Latin is a dying language and so few churches still practice in this way. I’m afraid the Latin Mass is so rare these days. It is a shame, for the Latin Mass is so earthy and beautiful to participate in.’

There we have it, Cissy. I suspect now that my journal might be very old for it to be written in Latin, for why else would someone write an entire journal in a dying, yet still translatable tongue?

I am armed now with a Latin-English dictionary. Let us see what other delights await us. The royal tree has whetted my appetite and I am hungry for more.

Your

Elizabeth.

2nd February

Cecelia,
Having pored over this journal for several hours now, I feel that I am making little gain. I have decided that I will need to consult with someone who may better assist me. So far, I have determined that the journal is written in a script which resembles something akin to Italian. However, no Italian dictionary within the ship’s library contains any of the words which appear in the journal. Deciphering the composition is proving to be a futile experience and I must confess that the morning has been largely wasted.

The sky today is an expanse of cerulean. My gaze was drawn to the porthole each time that my mind drifted from my task and so I decided to take a short stroll along the promenade to refresh my spirits. Whilst walking, I overheard a young, raven-haired woman cursing in something which sounded very much like an Italian dialect. The woman, whose name I discovered to be Violetta, was painting portraits but her concentration was broken often by the circling of raucous seagulls overhead. Intrigued, I took the opportunity to introduce myself to her as she painted, excusing myself for intruding. She welcomed the interruption and explained to me that she was painting the people she had met whilst exploring the Island of the Temple People. Most of the portrait collection were bold acrylics of the inhabitants who owned and operated the local businesses. I recognised my friends, Tristan and Bitsy. Oh, and there was the most delightful sketch of Harmony too, which the artist pressed into my palm and insisted I keep as a memento.

This darling lady, talented and graceful is well-heeled and much travelled. We spent a wonderful hour discussing the many exotic locations which she has visited – and with a lover in each one – scandalous! My friend, a native of Naples has kindly offered to look over a page or two of the journal. I shall be taking it to her cabin after she wakes from her siesta at four this afternoon. Hopefully, on my return, I shall have something of a cipher with which to unlock the remainder of the book’s mysteries.

Rather excitedly,

Elizabeth.

1st February

Dear Cecelia,

This morning I was struck by a marvellous idea whilst perusing the literature in my cabin. One of the brochures is dedicated to onboard activities and makes mention of a well-stocked library which is sure to satisfy even the most discerning bibliophile among us. I do so enjoy reading and there is nothing quite like the smell of old books, except perhaps the smell of new books!

I knocked on the door of Jack’s cabin along the way to invite him along. Quite why I bothered to ask.. of all the.. uncivil.. I had obviously roused him from his bed and judging by his air of incivility, he is not much of a morning person. He answered the door dressed only from the waist down, yawned, scratched his stomach as he stretched and said that if I wanted to lose my pretty little head behind a stack of dusty ancient tomes, then I was welcome to do so but to leave him well out of it. He promptly closed the door. I almost knocked again, but then, I’m ashamed to say, reacted instead by actually flouncing away in a bit of a huff. Well then, I shall take back every word I ever uttered in his favour.

Oh my, Cissy, this library is vast. It is decorated rather tastefully, rich and earthy colours with gold trim and there is a persian rug on the floor which is similar to the one Father has in his study at home.The shelves are of a burnished mahogany and thus far, every book title that I have been able to summons from the recesses of my mind is right here in this room. The lofty stacks require me to stand on the ladder if I am to come close to reaching the topmost shelves. The books which most interest me are those which discuss elements of Lemurian history, or more specifically, the possible location and significance of the Living Tree. By jove, sis, I think I have a plentiful supply of books which will see me through a month of Sundays. I have retired to the more comfortable of the two claret brocade armchairs with my heavy stack of leatherbound reference material and will begin reading shortly. I imagine that my reading will devour the better part of my day.

I shall take tea in the library if I am to take it at all.

Elizabeth.

————————————————————————————————————–

Good gracious, sis, I appear to have stumbled upon the key at last! Jolly good show. I thought I might be her until dusk, but already I am making headway. The first of my book selection was not altogether unpleasant to read, with its lively descriptions of life in Lemuria, but proved to contain very little of note which pertained to the Tree. By the third book I was beginning to suspect that I was heading down the wrong track with this line of reasoning and was becoming rather bored with the whole affair. After a spot of tea, I had perked up enough to tackle the fourth book, a slim, handbound object of the softest camel-coloured leather. The pages, a velvety parchment.

There are many strange markings tooled along the spine and the very front cover is embossed with the sigil identical to the one in my meditation. The pages contain much that is written in a language unfamiliar to me, though it does not appear to be ancient. I will need to study the journal at length in order to be able to decipher its contents.

On my exit from the library, I approached the librarian. An elderly, beak-nosed woman, reminiscent of a small wren, chirpy and lively, she greeted me in such a friendly manner that I did warm to her immediately. I passed my find across the counter to her and stated that I would like to borrow the book for a while.
‘Oh no, my love, we do not lend such books to our passengers.’
‘But you are a library, are you not?’
‘Yes, dear, but for me to lend you a book would suggest that you are planning to return it at some point.’
‘I will return it! I’m an honest sort.’
‘Yes, dearie, I can see that you are. This book, however, is to be given. It is yours to keep.’
‘Oh.. well, I am most grateful, dear lady.’

So, I am the owner of this compact journal of secrets. I am impatient to know what lies within.  There is much studying to be done, Cissy, but first I must eat. I am simply ravenous, and the che’s specials in the dining room are delights to be savoured indeed!

Elizabeth.

30th January

My sweet Cecelia,
My time in the seclusion of my cabin has been well spent. I’ve had many lovely long hours of rest. I have painted, composed a few verses and most importantly, I have written those long overdue missives to Mother and Father. Of course, I have kept all bu the most mundane of details of my trip so far to myself, not even daring to share them with either Teddy or Lottie.

The two of them have been having a rather gay time with our fellow passengers and just generally gadding about the place. Lottie has been shopping up quite a storm. Mind you, she does have an obscenely large trust fund, left to her by The Mogul, her once rather terrifying grandfather. Lottie was raised by him after the death of her own parents when she was quite small. Dear Lottie has such a generous heart, one quite wonders where on earth she may have inherited such a placid nature.

Oh, I have a telegram, which I received at breakfast this morning, with rather more positive news than the last. Jack will be boarding the Vulcania later this morning and making the next leg of the journey alongside me. I have much to discuss with him and he assures me that he too, has much to share. Was it really necessary to address the telegram to dollface though? The man is incorrigible! I don’t think I can bear to have him in close proximity for days at a time. Jazz talk, baby, he says. Ha! We shall see.

Elizabeth.

——————————————————————————————————————————-

Well, Cecelia,
I have returned to my cabin after a surprisingly pleasant dinner with the American. Brother dearest wished to be introduced to my companion and I endured a great number of quizzical looks from Lottie as the boys bonded. They apparently have much in common, I haven’t the faintest idea what, and appeared to be quite taken with one another. It took a rather concerted effort on my part to shoo Teddy away, and only after he’d extracted promises of drinks in the lounge after dinner.

Jack was most agreeable throughout our meal of filet mignon and seasonal vegetables, followed by apple cream pie for dessert. The ship puts on quite a spread! There was an awkwardly tender moment when he actually reached across the table to wipe a little dessert cream from my chin with his thumb. Oh, that apple pie was to die for!

Having brought Jack up to date with my tales of derring-do in his absence, it was time for me to learn precisely what he had discovered himself.
‘Charles is long gone, baby..’
‘No? Really?’ I’d answered in mock surprise.
Jack remained unamused. ‘You slay me, Lizzy. Listen, toots, if you don’t wanna know..’
‘Oh no, toots, please carry on.’ I resisted the rather peevish urge to poke my tongue out in his direction.
‘Charles is long gone. There’s just nothing. That trail has gone cold. What I did find out, was that he was definitely onto something. I turned up a dick that he’d hired, one of his reliable sources..’
‘Wait a minute. A dick?’
‘Private investigator. An unhappy one at that. Charles still owes him a few quid. The dick had news of a man known only as The Collector. This guy is gathering up your precious scrolls as we speak. Word has it that he’s paying big bucks to anyone who can get a hold of them for him. The scrolls are said to give the the bearer the powers that were originally attributed to Obas’ah, the Benevolent One. Powers of immortality, telekinesis, telepathy and the ability to command great armies, both living and dead. And much more. So far, The Collector has two of the scrolls in his possession. there are six in total. That means..’
‘There are four still out there.’
‘Hey, you’re not just a pretty face, are ya toots?’

Apart from the apparent condescension and name-calling, dinner with Jack was pleasant enough. I shall be giving him the widest possible berth while we’re confined to the ship though. Too many of these dinners and I might actually find myself in danger of liking the man. Perish the thought, Cissy!

Now, with four scrolls still at large, we’ll have our work cut out for us. We do have the one small clue of the Living Tree sigil, which neither of us were able to recognise. Perhaps our next port of call will provide us with more answers before The Collector possesses all of the scrolls and wreaks destruction on Lemuria and the rest of the globe.

Elizabeth.

20th January

My dear sister,
I spoke with L’Enchanteur earlier today and by chance made mention of my desire to learn more of the ancient history of Lemuria. Enchanteur has suggested that the wisest course of action may be to venture farther inland and paying a visit to some of her dear friends, the Elders. There is a bed and breakfast in town where I will be made most comfortable. From there I shall journey North at first light.
However, before I leave, I should very much like to drop by the glass garden again. My last visit did not detract from my felicity, but indeed eased my burden and left me quite lightened. I wonder at the vista which may await me on this occasion.
I must pack enough clothing for my sojourn, the usual knick-knacks and of course my walnut, which I have determined I will stow in the amulet pouch about my throat.

Adieu, sister,

Elizabeth.