by Jina Bacarr
‘Take my hand, Charters, now!’
‘I can’t.’
Knowing the poor man couldn’t climb aboard, Buck ripped off the fastenings on his lifebelt, pulled it over his head and tossed it to Mr Charters. The Liverpool man caught it, then vanished back into the shadows of the sea.
Buck prayed he’d make it.
No guarantee he would either. The upside boat could barely hold the men standing shoulder to shoulder, trying to balance and prevent the raft from overturning, when a swell arose.
Horrified shouts, screams slammed into his head. Then an unbelievable shock went through him, seizing him in the chest when the boat tipped and into the sea he went, the below-freezing water sucking him down… down. He fought his way up to the surface again and again, knowing if he panicked that would be the end of him.
Floundering in the seawater, a terrified cry came from this throat. Without a life jacket, he faced the near certainty of drowning if the deathly cold water didn’t get him first. His body heat dropped so fast he knew he didn’t have long. Fifteen… maybe thirty minutes before his body shut down completely. He had a hard time staying afloat, his swimming skills keeping his strokes strong, but he couldn’t keep his head above water.
Buck knew why. Without his lifebelt, the damn pistol was pulling him down. He yanked it out of his pocket and tossed it away.
Whatever else he had in his pocket went with it.
Buck struggled to reach the upside-down lifeboat when—
The wires on the forward funnel on the ship snapped and it crashed into the sea. Bright sparks and thick white plumes of steam poured out of it, crushing the helpless passengers caught below it.
Buck shuddered. He wanted to go back, help the poor devils, his nerves drawn taut and ready to break, but he realized he could do nothing to help them.
He swam hard and fast to reach the collapsible flung well clear from the sinking ship, then clambered back aboard the craft. He balanced his weight on the flat-bottomed lifeboat with the other men who’d managed to swim to the craft, including Second Officer Lightoller. He took charge of the motley crew.
Blowing his officer’s whistle, his words came firm and fast.
‘Hold steady, men… more to the left… now the right… keep your wits about you.’
‘She’s going!’ Buck heard someone yell out.
Then he heard a guttural scream, followed by another and another. What the bloody hell—
He yanked his head around in time to see the ship plunge forward, its stern lifting out of the water at a low angle. The lights on the ship were still burning, but the forward part of the ship up to the second funnel was submerged.
His chest swelled with a violent pain when he saw the lights go out, deck by deck, then flash on again and finally go out forever.
The horror of what happened next would never leave him.
The ship of dreams was silhouetted against the bright sky as it cracked in two between the third and fourth funnel, the sound splitting his eardrums before plunging downward with a great booming, rumbling sound. The ship roared like a giant behemoth in the throes of a death rattle, the forward part diving down deep, deep into the sea—
Then the stern coming back to an almost even keel in the calm sea before it filled with water and went down, lost forever.
Miles below.
Never to be seen again.
A deadly chill stabbed him in the back and his heart continued to pound in his throat. He couldn’t believe it. All he could see was a pale gray vapor hanging like smoke over the spot where the Titanic had disappeared.
The sea was so calm, so smooth, that the piercing screams and pitiful pleas for help sounded sharp and clear in his ears. Ghastly sounds no man should ever hear. He thought he’d go mad. He wanted to clamp his hands over his ears, to shut out the bloody screams. He didn’t.
He could do nothing more. The sea would soon be swollen with floating dead bodies burdened with lifebelts that would keep them from sinking. No one could last more than thirty minutes in this freezing water before they went into shock and died, their hearts giving out.
He prayed for all their souls. Including his own.
Something he never would have had the courage to do before he met Ava.
Buck thought of her now, the lilt of her words ringing in his ears telling him—
Telling him what? Wait… he could hear her voice. Yes, it was her. He swore it. She was out there, swimming in the sea, alone.
‘Ava… Ava!’ he called out.
He leaned over the edge of the lifeboat, searching for her in the darkness, straining his eyes until they hurt. All he could see was the flickering of a green light coming toward them. Like her eyes, a lovely, sheer green.
In his mind, he knew it was a lantern in another lifeboat. But in his heart he wanted to believe it was her. Her arms outstretched and calling to him.
Buck smiled and reached out to her. There was a peace in him. He wanted to hold her, kiss her. This beautiful red-haired angel smiling at him.
He must save her. Or die trying.
His chest was sore and his arms ached so fierce from swimming they’d gone numb, but he couldn’t leave her to drown.
He wanted so badly to believe it was Ava he heard that Buck dove into the dark, lonely sea before anyone could stop him.
And disappeared.
29
Ava held her head in her gloved hands. It wasn’t that the fear of death was all around her, but that she was here in the lifeboat and not the grand gentlemen married to these ladies.
First cabin ladies.
Wearing fur coats and teardrop diamond earrings and big, feathered hats with silver hatpins. Smelling of lavender. Not the salty sweat of steerage.
Dressed in the pink of fashion, they looked as out of place in the lifeboat as perfect plump prawns tossed into a fisherman’s dirty pail. Bickering among themselves about keeping their part of the boat for their kind only. Making comments about the sailor at the tiller smoking. And generally being what they were.
First cabin ladies.
Ava couldn’t stop peering at them through the dark. Such a curious eye she had, she missed nothing. Like a fine new broom she was, its hay bristles sharp and pointy and with a passion for sweeping.
Brace yourself, girl, these ladies will want to know about you. Ask you questions.
Curious and probing, expecting you to fit into their world of fine manners and grand speech.
They believe you’re a titled lady. If they find out you’re not after they’ve accepted you as one of their own, oh, mercy, you’ll be on the first steamer back to Ireland. They’ll forgive you for ignoring them, but only on one condition.
That you are the Countess of Marbury.
That set Ava’s heart racing. She felt as if she’d been turned inside out, exposed. What if they knew their husbands had been denied a seat in the lifeboat so a poor Irish girl wanted by the law might live? They’d feed on her like leeches until they destroyed her.
Ava had been foolish to believe the grand divide wielded by centuries of manners and class could be broken down by her love for Buck. She ached anew for him, to feel his arms holding her, his lips against hers.
He was so bloody handsome, strong and his eyes gleamed black pools she could get lost in. His mere touch made her spill over with a wildness that tempted her to sink into his arms. Inhale the breath of him into her lungs for the pure joy of being part of him.
Flesh against flesh, his great need matching hers.
Why did he send her away? Why?
It took her a moment to work it out. She remembered Buck’s stoic expression and his fierce insistence that she and the countess get into a lifeboat.
He knew all the time there weren’t enough boats for the men.
Ava had to do something, not just sit here, pretending she was invisible as if she were covered with black soot. What if passengers swimming in the sea needed their help? What if one of them was Buck?
They
would go back to the ship to pick up survivors, wouldn’t they?
The freezing cold bit at her cheeks like sharp icicles, making her shiver. The sea was calm and no moon. She leaned forward, squinting, her eyes trying to see as the lifeboat picked up more survivors. Seamen, but the poor devils were in a sorry state and were barely alive. Gasping for breath, their faces contorted with agonizing pain.
She’d never forget it.
Ava was jumpier than before, fretting with worry about Buck. She couldn’t just sit here. She had to do something.
‘I can row,’ she said, keeping her voice low and doing her best not to speak any more than she had to, her with her peppery talk and country accent. In no time they’d guess her secret. Then where would she be? Settled in a locked room in a rescue ship when they were found.
Rumor was the Carpathia was on its way.
The quartermaster in charge of the lifeboat seemed surprised at her request, but grateful. Lord knew he had his hands full with an inexperienced crew. They had already lost two oars because of their clumsy efforts to pull together.
Ava took over from an exhausted seaman, his hands too cold to hold onto the oar any longer. She put her back into it, thankful for the countess’s gray leather gloves to keep her hands warm as she bent to her oar in the snapping cold.
She put her shoulder to it and began to row harder on the calm sea, keeping the boat steady and pulling for her life. They had to get away from being dragged down into a swell when the ship went down. She saw the Titanic lit up, deck by deck, each porthole shining a beacon to the heavens, signaling the loss of so many souls on this wretched night.
Rockets lit up the sky.
The sea glowed with an iridescent shimmer of green light from other lifeboats. Already debris floated around them. Barrels and steamer chairs drifted by and banged into the lifeboat, while the crew’s mumblings blowing loud in her ears gave her little comfort.
No compass or bread or water. No lantern. No one knows how to navigate by the stars.
Blimey, we’re done for.
Farther and farther away from the ship Ava rowed, her heart heavy, her soul burdened down with such pain even a sinner like her couldn’t bear it. They must have rowed over a hundred feet away from the ship when excited, horrified murmurs from the women caused her to lift her head.
What she saw made her gasp loudly.
The Titanic was sinking fast.
Then something godlike took hold of her. A spiritual moment she’d never forget. The beautiful sounds of a holy hymn skimmed over the glassy sea, casting a spell over everyone in the lifeboat.
No one spoke, but they listened. The hushed sound of their breathing filled the air, as if their icy breaths captured the musical notes drifting far out over the water.
Each one a silent prayer.
‘Holy Mary, Mother of God,’ she prayed with all her heart, repeating the words as if they were an act of contrition and would save their souls. Ava couldn’t stop the oncoming range of emotions coming at her. The tense feeling was numbing but unshakable as an icy breeze scraped her cheeks. It was penetrating cold.
No one shivered in spite of it. They waited in fear, some sobbing, but all praying silently that as the ship passed over the threshold and into darkness, their loved ones would somehow survive.
Ava stopped rowing, not because her shoulders screamed and ached with pain, but because the realization of losing Buck hit her hard.
The liner getting lower and lower in the water. Slowly… steadily. One small explosion… then the lights went out, deck by deck. Then a louder explosion. Plumes of smoke rose into the sky. Horrible shrieking sounds like animals trapped with no way out hit her ears when the ship seemed to lift up of the water… and was she dreaming? It tilted up on its end and then cracked in two.
No… no. It couldn’t be.
Before she could murmur holy words, the Titanic was gone.
So quiet… sinking into its watery grave.
But not the fleeing souls on board crushed or tossed into the sea. Their cries so painful to her heart, she couldn’t breathe.
Her lips moved, but she couldn’t get the words out and her body became limp. She stopped trying to be brave and let the tears flow.
For Buck, the countess, and Mr Brady.
All lost. She began to shake uncontrollably.
Better to have loved him than not, she thought, to lock in her heart the memory of his dark eyes and fancy words and her trembling with delight when he kissed her. His lordship putting his hands on her hair and smoothing it back and holding her in his strong arms. Her world would never again be a gray, flickering existence, for Captain Lord Buck Blackthorn had shown her how to be a woman.
If there was one thing she’d done right in the eyes of the Almighty, it was to give him the comfort of faith. He would need it if he were to survive. She didn’t believe Buck would go down without a fight. She was betting on that.
For his sake. And hers.
Still, a heartrending sorrow had claimed her when she’d seen the grand ship Titanic lurch forward, holding steady but a few moments before the once elegant liner headed to the bottom of the sea.
‘Buck, Buck!’ she cried out now, the scene playing over and over again in her mind and ripping her heart apart, her voice lost in the dark night. Tears gathered in her eyes.
The warmth of his memory was all she had left.
Glassy icebergs entombed the lifeboats.
Ava tried to ignore the mountains of icebergs emerging through the darkness as daylight crept over the ice field. Impenetrable guardians, reminding her of their power to destroy everything she loved. Her stomach twisted at the sight of the bergs tinted a pale gray against a pinkish horizon. She fought back the pain. Fought hard, until all that was left was a nagging prayer reminding her she still wasn’t safe.
She wasn’t alone in her despair. Through her veil, she looked at the other passengers.
First cabin ladies mostly, and steerage women.
Babies, seamen.
All trying desperately to survive the night.
She pulled the chilly air into her lungs, held her breath, and then put her shoulder to the oar as they followed the green light of another boat. The night air stung her cheeks. Heart racing, she forced herself to breathe until it hurt.
Keep rowing, keep rowing.
Jesus Mary, she was so cold she couldn’t stay warm. She gripped the oar all the harder, her sweat mixing with the ice covering the veil on her face. A brutal chill made her shudder, but she kept pace with the others. Each pull strained her whole body. Her arms and shoulders ached, but she didn’t stop.
The sea will not take me. Not on your bloomin’ life.
The blood pumped through her veins, knowing He’d smile to have her in His hands sooner, but Ava was no quitter. She’d last in spite of the fact they had no provisions, no water, not even a lantern.
A seaman lit a matchstick, but it flickered out. The sputtering little flame reminded Ava of her childhood and how her mother was always trimming the candlewicks to make them last longer.
The thought warmed her, seeing in her mind her sweet mum’s face in the glow of the fire, the wick of the candle curling when it burned as she set down her cup of tea next to it. She wanted so, begged to see her mum’s deep blue eyes twinkling as she told her daughters stories about the gentle people, the fairies, but the scene broke apart like cracked glass.
Ava let out a long, heartfelt groan. The bitter cold replaced the warmth in her heart and the nightmare started all over again. She wanted to stop, to rest… to sleep.
She stared deep into the freezing water. All she had to do was untie her lifebelt and slip over the side. The icy sea would do the rest.
It would all be over in a few minutes…
Are you a coward, Ava O’Reilly? Buck put his life on the line for you. You can’t let him down.
She didn’t stop rowing.
Ava shut herself off from feeling anything at all. It was the only way she
could cope. A ship’s officer in another boat called out for them to tie up with four other lifeboats, then take on board several men they plucked from the freezing water.
She could barely see in the dim light, but she didn’t give up hoping one of them was Buck. Half-frozen, the men crumpled to their knees and hunched over in agony. She groaned deep in her throat.
His lordship wasn’t among them.
A fierce anger gripped her. Would she ever know what happened to him?
She went back to rowing, her spirits sinking. Buck was dead, squeezing every hope out of her.
Would a broken heart make a lass give up and go about the devil’s work? Sell her soul to see him again?
An impure thought, but she wasn’t sorry she said it.
Ava went back and forth with her thoughts, wanting everything to be lovely again, when a cold burn chilled her ankles. She looked down. Holy Mary, the lifeboat was taking in water.
She helped the women bail out the water with their bare hands until they found the leak and stuffed it with a blanket.
Would it last long enough for the rescue ship to find them?
A faint murmuring erupted among the passengers as the dawn broke through the thick drift ice surrounding them. A few women started sobbing. Whispering and praying another ship had picked up their husbands. She said a quick Hail Mary it was true, then she said another prayer for the countess.
God rest her soul.
Mr Brady, too… and Buck… God, thinking about him was killing her soul. She drew in a sharp, gasping breath. She couldn’t get the screaming out of her mind when the Titanic sank. All them people begging for another breath, another moment of life. Guilt that she survived clung to her like penance prayers never said. The crushing reality of having to face the truth if and when they were rescued weighed heavily on her mind.
And her heart.
Whatever happened, the Irish girl known as Ava O’Reilly was no more.
Every lady in the lifeboat believed her to be the Countess of Marbury. Ever since she’d gotten into the boat, she’d catch a curious eye watching her, whether she was rowing or helping a wounded seaman. Waiting to see what she’d do, how she’d act. Even in a crisis such as this, the feline curiosity to scratch away at her story with their sharp looks was there. Chip it apart word by word, if only as a way to forget for a little while and assuage their own overwhelming grief.