Mystery and Malice aboard - RMS Ballast - The Eighth Anty Boisjo ly Mystery - Chapter One - Tales of Sails and Betrayals - and for Some Reason Mails

Aug 2, 2026

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A seasoned passenger boards the steam-and-sail yacht RMS Ballast with unusual company: Inspector Ivor Wittersham of Scotland Yard. Archie Lord Hannibal-Pool hosts despite tensions hinted between noble and detective, while the narrator recalls earlier hints of piracy, mutiny, murder, and buried-treasure intrigue. Against the bustle of Portsmouth’s maritime port and the Art Deco elegance of the ship, the plan for a voyage to the Scilly Islands replaces talk of Isle of Wight mischief, setting a tone of concealed motives and forthcoming danger.

LanguageEnglish

CategoryStory & Novel

FormatPDF

Pages191

Reading Time4 h 54 min

AccessFree to download

Tales of Sails and Betrayals and for Some Reason Mails

Arrival aboard RMS Ballast and introduction of Inspector Ivor Wittersham

Portsmouth harbor atmosphere and details of the yacht

Voyage plans: Scilly Islands instead of Isle of Wight

Background hints about piracy, treasure, mutiny, and murder

Mystery and Malice aboard RMS Ballast The Eighth Anty Boisjo ly Mystery Copyright 2024 PJ Fitzsimmons. All Rights Reserved. [OceanofPDF.com](OceanofPDF.com) CHAPTER ONE Tales of Sails and Betrayals and for Some Reason Mails I’d been a passenger aboard the yacht of Archie Lord Hannibal-Pool on many occasions and had never until now had cause to believe he was an outlaw of the high seas. In my defence, that was before the piracy, buried treasure, mutiny, and murder, and prior to being assigned a starboard stateroom for a westbound voyage. These things add up. The tally started on one of those crisp, maritime, good-fishing mornings that seem to be sunrise all day long, and indeed this particular morning was a mid-afternoon on the tip of Victoria Pier in Portsmouth, detour and moor of RMS Ballast, flagship of Archie Lord Hannibal-Pool’s toybox. The air was a brisk mist of tar and salt and hazard. The water hopped and chopped and chivvied even the biggest boats of steam and sail as they crowded and crossed each other in the harbour straight. Spires and stacks and smoke and streamers filled the skyline like city blocks, flying the flags of all nations. On the decks and docks and depots a thousand sailors and stevedores performed ten thousand tasks. And so flowed, inexorably onward, the arteries of maritime commerce. I typically make a point of joining a crossing at the last minute or, ideally, after departure at some sunny port on the itinerary, because there always seems to be so much to do, otherwise, what with the boarding of essentials like champagne and caviar and what must be countless utilities and utensils essential to keeping the boat on the right side of sea level. Today was exceptional, though, because I was bringing a guest. “Your Lordship, Inspector Ivor Wittersham, of Scotland Yard,” I pomped.“Inspector Wittersham, Lord Hannibal-Pool.” Archie Lord H-P, as a rule, neither insists on nor knows the conventions of noble address, but I knew from one giddy tea at Claridge’s that the inspector fairly marvels at them, like a small child or fully-grown Boisjoly watching fireworks. Nevertheless, Ivor and Archie shook hands and parried pleasantries and if anything both parties appeared to be only barely repressing some unspoken animosity. This was possibly down to Archie presenting, as he tends to do, less as a member of the peerage and more a commoner with boat worries. He was wearing a slick sou'wester and a distracted frown on his scrupulously unshaven face, and a newsagent’s cloth cap struggled to contain his tempest of white hair. Ivor was kitted out for a maritime outing exactly as he dresses for his dayto-day professional activities or anything else, I expect, and I’ve little doubt that he got married in a pigeon-grey trench coat and slapdash moustache. Of the three of us only I—or at any rate my valet—appeared to have approached the theme of the day in anything like the right spirit. I was fitted out in fully nautical double-breasted, from a twilled navy yachting suit to a pea jacket, over a streamlined, youthful hull and beneath a masting of chestnut locks. I fancy I looked like a young Admiral Lord Nelson conferring with a couple of swabs. “RMS Ballast.” Ivor slung a sailor ’s rucksack over his shoulder with a practised ease. “Unusual christening for a yacht, I’d have thought, Your Lordship.” The tide was high and RMS Ballast rolled on moody tides fully two decks above us and one below. It was a splendid sloop of steam and sail refitted only eight years earlier in 1921 with the lines and lifts and folds and flourishes of the beginning of its Art Deco era. It looked rather like a fedora that sleeps sixteen. “It’s what the lads on the rowing team at Oxford used to call me,”explained Archie.“Ballast. I thought it quite funny to give the name to my yacht, at the time.” “I was referring to the prefix.” Ivor nodded at the prow of The Ballast.“Is RMS not typically reserved for vessels

FAQs

Who boards RMS Ballast as the narrator’s guest?

Inspector Ivor Wittersham of Scotland Yard joins the narrator aboard RMS Ballast as the guest of Archie Lord Hannibal-Pool.

Why does the conversation avoid openly discussing smuggling?

Archie tries to prevent the topic from being put about, insisting they should not talk about smuggling and redirecting the conversation.

Where does the voyage plan to go, and why does it matter?

The plan is for the Scilly Islands (extended Scillies via their Royal Mail charter), replacing immediate travel to the Isle of Wight and signaling that the journey holds specific, concealed intentions.

Aug 2, 2026

Upload by Liam