Free Stolen by John Wilson Page B

about the coast here. The museum has the Loch Ard peacock,” Annabel says as if I should know what she’s talking about.
    â€œUmmmm,” I say helplessly.
    â€œIt’s part of the Loch Ard shipwreck. Fifty-two people drowned back in 1878.”
    â€œI’m afraid it wasn’t big news up in Canada. Do you know about the Princess Sophia shipwreck? Three hundred and forty-three people drowned back in 1918.” I’m dredging up information from a project I did last year. I know I sound pompous, but Annabel’s assumption that I should know the history of her backwoods part of the world annoys me.
    To my great relief, Annabel laughs. “Fair enough. Tell me about the Princess Sophia .”
    â€œShe was a steamer out on Canada’s west coast. She struck a reef in a storm and sank.” Annabel looks at me as if she wants more information. “The Sophia sat on the reef for two days with rescue ships around her and the weather too rough to take the passengers off. Then she slid off the reef, and everyone drowned. I imagine what it must have been like for the people on board, knowing they were probably going to die but not knowing when. Some wrote last letters and wills that were found when their bodies drifted ashore days later.”
    Annabel tilts her head and looks at me with interest. “That’s powerful stuff. A lot of people forget that history’s about people just like us. You haven’t.”
    I feel my neck redden at the compliment. “So tell me about the Loch Ard ,” I say.
    â€œThe Loch Ard was heading for Melbourne from England with immigrant families aboard. She was swept onto the cliffs along the coast in fog and sank in ten minutes. Only two eighteen-year-olds survived, Tom Pearce, an apprentice, and Eva Carmichael, the daughter of one of the families. Tom was washed ashore, but he heard Eva call for help and swam back out to rescue her. They sheltered in a cave and drank brandy that had washed up. Then Tom climbed the cliffs and went for help. It was a huge story back then. Everyone hoped Tom and Eva would fall in love. They didn’t. Eva went back to Ireland, and Tom was given a gold medal for his bravery. So much for romance.
    â€œLots of stuff washed up on the beach in the days after the sinking. One thing was a huge porcelain bird specially made in England for the Melbourne exhibition to be held in 1880. That’s the Loch Ard peacock, and it’s in the museum on Flagstaff Hill. They say it’s worth millions of dollars.”
    â€œI’d like to see that,” I say, impressed by the dollar figure.
    â€œThere’s another fascinating story much closer to here—” Annabel begins, but she stops as the black piece of driftwood that I had been kicking along the beach bounces past us. It comes to rest a few feet away, and Annabel freezes, staring at it. Then she bends down to pick it up, but a large black dog shoots past, grabs the wood and bounds away.
    â€œHey! Wait!” Annabel shouts and takes off after the dog.
    Annabel is tearing around after the dog, who thinks this is a wonderful game, when the dog’s owner shows up. “Sorry,” he says in an American accent. He’s a plump, middle-aged man wearing a dark suit and city shoes that look completely out of place on the beach. He peers at me through thick, round glasses. “The wood slipped out of my hand when I threw it for Percy. There’s not a lot of driftwood on this beach, so it’s quite a treat for him.”
    Annabel can cover a lot of ground fast on her long legs, but Percy beats her in the turn every time. As Annabel begins to slow, Percy runs rings round her. “This seems like quite a treat for Percy too,” I say.
    â€œYes,” the man agrees, “although I’m not so sure it is for your friend. Are you here on holiday?”
    â€œJust for a few days, yes,” I reply. “You’re