Free The Memory of Eva Ryker by Donald Stanwood

worked, as you can see.”
    â€œNot right yet. I’m interested to know why you came here.”
    â€œNo water. Dry land from horizon to horizon.”
    â€œI’d prefer something a little less facile. Like an explanation of what you did from nineteen twelve, after the sinking, to nineteen twenty-three, when you joined Cunard.”
    â€œYou’ve been spying on me.”
    â€œJust looking at your personnel records.”
    â€œThe fourteen to eighteen war, mainly. I joined the Navy and served on the Evan-Thomas during Jutland. Nearly got my arse torpedoed from under me more times than I can count.”
    â€œWhat about after the war?”
    â€œMy father died and left me some money. I took a few years to run through that.”
    â€œWhat did he do?”
    McFarland focused on the water droplets beading his glass. “He owned a shoe store in Brighton.” A shrug. “Anyway, I ran out of money in twenty-three, so I signed up with Cunard.”
    â€œWhat did you do immediately after the sinking? It was another two years before the war broke out.”
    â€œOh, I don’t know. Lazed about. Odd jobs and all.”
    â€œYou never told me why you came here.”
    â€œI had friends aboard the Mary who talked nothing but Australia. The open frontier and so forth. One of them mentioned the fortune in opals to be made out here. Coober Pedy and Andamooka—that’s about three hundred miles to the southeast—mine about two million pounds a year,” He laughed, slapping his stomach. “I was still strong then, enough muscle left to handle a jackhammer, and I thought what the hell. I bought land just north of here. And slaved for two ball-busting years. I hit my first seam early in fifty-one.” McFarland lifted his palms. “The rest was downhill. I hit again in fifty-seven. I’ve been coasting on that ever since.” He finished off his glass. “Mind if I ask you a question, Norm?”
    â€œAsk away.”
    â€œWhy’d you come to me? Just to talk about the Titanic? ”
    â€œMainly.”
    â€œThere must be other old bastards left from the ship.”
    â€œProbably. But I got onto your name from Fred and Mima Heinley, a couple who live in St. Petersburg, Florida.”
    â€œNever heard of them.”
    â€œYou haven’t met. But they were close friends of a young couple who you must’ve served on the Titanic . Albert and Martha Klein.”
    McFarland’s eyes focused into space. “Klein. Klein.” His lips pursed. “Albert and Martha, you said?”
    â€œThat’s right. They were newlyweds.”
    Slowly, then rapidly, he shook his head. “No, can’t say that I do.”
    â€œThey were very young,” I persisted. “Early twenties.”
    McFarland kept shaking his head. “Sorry …”
    â€œVery good-looking.”
    â€œI really can’t …” he drawled regretfully.
    â€œBoth blond.”
    His face was an empty smiling mold. “Wish I could help you. But I had a lot of people on B deck portside. More than I can remember.”
    â€œYou’re sure.”
    â€œSure!” He stood and ambled for the kitchen. “You know, Norm, I’d offer you another drink but I’m running sort of late. I’ve got company for dinner. You know how it is.”
    Yes, I knew. With a sigh I got to my feet and headed for the door. McFarland was pouring himself a double.
    â€œWell, John, thanks very much. If you have anything else to tell me, I’m staying at Jack Forrester’s place.”
    â€œI’ll surely do that!” He pumped my hand. “Let me lead the way up.”
    After unlatching the big double doors, he gave me a hand up the stairs.
    â€œGlad we had our little chat, Norm.” He patted my shoulder. “See you around. I might even read one of your books.”
    â€œYou might try The Death Watch Beetle .”
    â€œI’ll do that!