Queen of the Waves

by Janice Thompson

  “What is it, James?” Truly, this fellow was wearing his patience. Nathan grabbed hold of the railing, his gaze landing on a familiar little girl several yards away. Manca. The girl who’d danced with her father on the deck. Nathan watched as an impatient seaman tried to force the tiny child across a ladder, a makeshift route to the hoisted lifeboat, which hung at a precarious angle. The little girl clung to her father’s leg, unwilling to budge. Not that he blamed her. To climb aboard that ladder would be impossible for an adult, let alone a child.

  “I have always loved you like a son, Nathan.” James reached out and pulled him into an uncomfortable embrace. “Though I could never acknowledge you as my own.”

  Nathan’s gaze shifted back to the man, his heart in his throat as he wriggled away. “Acknowledge me? What are you talking about?”

  James shook his head, his cheeks now wet. From the spray of water splashing over the deck, maybe, or were those tears? “Listen to me, Nathan. All that I have in this world is wrapped up in my company, and it’s worth a pretty penny. All of it, I have left to you. All of it.”

  Nathan shook his head, his thoughts reeling. Surely the tilt of the ship had done something to James Carson’s reasoning. Off in the distance, the little girl’s cries split the night. Her father lifted her and handed her to the seaman, who flung her onto the ladder where she clung, screaming.

  “Do you understand what I’m saying, son?” James reached for his hand. “Everything I have is yours.”

  “But why?”

  As the ship jolted once again, James doubled over and grabbed the railing. He rose, eyes brimming. “Because you are my boy, and I love you. I always have, even when I couldn’t acknowledge it.”

  Confusion swept over Nathan. Before he could spend another moment thinking about what James had said, however, his gaze shifted back to Manca, who gripped the ladder and cried now louder than ever. The little girl’s father called out to her in a language unfamiliar, obviously trying to get her to work her way across the ladder to the lifeboat. The terrified youngster would not budge. She hovered, several stories high, over the water.

  Nathan turned away from James and took tentative steps toward Manca, gripping the railing the whole way. He glanced back at James one last time, torn. If what James had said was true…

  But it couldn’t be.

  It couldn’t.

  Manca’s cries pierced his heart, and Nathan glanced back to see the child’s father attempting to help her across the ladder. The youngster slipped and nearly fell as she tried to grab onto her father. She refused to let go, now putting both of their lives in danger.

  “Help her, son,” James called out from a distance away. “I will find your mother.”

  No doubt he would. Anger rose like a fire inside of Nathan’s belly as he made his way toward the little girl. One thing at a time. Deal with the issue in front of him, and then make sure Mother made it onto a lifeboat.

  Off in the distance, Manca held her father in a death grip, her shrieks echoing across the starlit sky. Nathan slipped onto the ladder behind them and took hold of the little girl, leaving her father free to ease his way off the ladder and back onto Titanic’s deck.

  “Manca?” Nathan tried to steady his voice as he held the child with one arm and the ladder with the other. He pointed to the lifeboat on the far end of the ladder. “Manca, you must get into the boat. Hurry.”

  With tears streaming, she shook her head, and a string of words escaped in a language unfamiliar. From the deck of the Titanic, the child’s father pleaded with her.

  The youngster looked at him, eyes wide. There she clung, unable—or unwilling—to move an inch.

  The world tilted as Titanic’s bow lowered. Nathan lost his grip on the child, who slipped from his arms, but he caught her in midair. She let out a piercing scream as he pulled her back onto the ladder. Fear now held the youngster frozen in place. Fear and icy coldness, which gripped him with such violence that he could not stop shaking.

  As the ladder swayed, Nathan swept the child into his arms and eased his way toward the lifeboat. From inside the boat, two of the ladies rose and extended their arms, willing the youngster to make the jump. She refused. Nathan lifted her over the railing and dropped her inside, which caused the boat to rock.

  The moment he let her go the lifeboat pitched wildly. The icy cold air caused Nathan’s fingers to go numb, and he lost his grip on the ladder. The world began to spin as he fell down, down, down into the blackness of the night.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  April 15, 1912, 12:51 a.m.

  The Atlantic

  Shivering. Pain. Stabbing. Deafening cries.

  In. Out. In. Out.

  “No!” Nathan cried out as the icy-cold water pierced his skin, a thousand needles driving themselves in at once.

  He gave himself over to the darkness that now enveloped him as everything faded into a haze. “Lord, not my will, but Yours be done.” The words of Jesus washed over him afresh as the pain held him frozen.

  Just as quickly, James Carson’s words played over in his mind, taunting him: “Do you understand what I’m saying, son? Everything I have is yours.”

  “Oh, God!” The cry went up as the reality of the man’s words sank in. “Merciful God!”

  “You are my boy, and I love you. I always have!”

  A cry rang out. A woman’s voice, angelic and strong. Nathan forced his eyes open, straining as an unfamiliar face came into view. He tried to focus as he took in the image of the woman leaning over the edge of a half-empty lifeboat.

  Moments later, strong arms reached down to grab hold of him, and he felt himself lifted—miraculously lifted—from a watery grave to a chance at new life.

  April 15, 1912, 1:30 a.m.

  Lifeboat Eleven

  Seated inside Lifeboat Eleven, Tessa fought to keep her thoughts straight. In spite of the bitter cold, she felt feverish. The trembling in her extremities grew worse as time passed, and she felt herself moving in and out of consciousness, her thoughts more twisted than ever. Shivers racked her to the bone, and she wondered if maybe she had died.

  In her delirious state, Tessa saw herself a young girl—maybe six—running across the farm, chasing Peter’s elusive shadow. Older and more nimble, he raced along, his boyish laughter filling the air.

  “Wait for me, Peter!” she cried out, kicking up her heels. “Don’t leave me.”

  Through the blurry haze he turned and offered her a smile, but then his face—his beautiful face—grew fuzzy. He continued to run far, far away. Before long, the shadow disappeared, as did he. All that remained was his voice, that precious, soothing voice.

  “Tessa? Tessa, are you all right?”

  She paused to catch her breath and leaned over as a stitch in her side caused her to double over in pain. “Please! Don’t. Leave. Me. Please. Stay with me, Peter.”

  “Tessa? Oh, Tessa, wake up!”

  The dream grew fuzzier still, and her head felt hot. Just as quickly, she shivered, gripped by icy tentacles that stung her legs and arms.

  “Peter, please!” With pigtails flying in the breeze, she ran across the meadow, beyond Countess’s stall and away from the house. Chasing his shadow.

  Shadows.

  Shadows.

  Murky, gray shadows.

  “She’s in shock.”

  Tessa heard the voice but could not respond. With her head swimming and her thoughts so muddled, how could she?

  Why is it so cold?

  “If I should die before I wake…” Tessa whispered the words as she knelt down in front of her father. Pa took hold of her shoulders and pressed her knees into the rocky path. Gravelly bits tore holes into her flesh, causing intense pain.

  “If I should die before I wake…”

  “Repent, girl.” Pa’s drunken breath made her stomach sick. “Ask the Lord to forgive you for your wickedness.”

  “Oh, God!” She tumbled to and fro, rocking back and forth, back and forth. Her stomach rev
olted and she could not hold its contents.

  “If I should die before I wake…”

  She emptied her stomach then leaned back in a haze, her thoughts in a whirl.

  “The letter!” she cried out. “How will Jacquie’s grandmother know me without the letter? I will have no place to go!”

  “Tessa!” Someone shook her with such force that she almost came out swinging. “Tessa! Please.”

  Tessa tried to force her eyes open but only managed a second’s glance. In that moment, she took in vast miles of darkness. And then—Iris’s face. Slowly, the faces of the others came into view. Annie. Jessie. Edith Russell. In that moment, every image of Peter faded away.

  April 15, 1912, 1:58 a.m.

  Lifeboat Eleven

  Iris held Tessa close but could not stop the tears from flowing. She had never known such fear. Or such cold. The trembling gripped her until she could scarcely move.

  “Tessa!” Iris held her close and fought to warm them both.

  Just an hour ago, she had mourned the loss of her sketchbook, that silly, meaningless thing. Now she feared for the life of her friend.

  “Oh, God. Please, God!” she cried out to the heavens, begging for mercy.

  From across the lifeboat an unfamiliar woman approached. Her movement, though cautious, caused the boat to rock. The woman came and knelt in front of Tessa. She reached out her hand to feel her forehead then glanced at Iris. “I’m a doctor, dear. Alice Leader.” She pulled off her scarf and wrapped it around Tessa’s neck. “We must keep her warm. She’s feverish. I daresay she’s also in shock. I feel sure it will pass once we’re rescued.”

  “Rescued.” Iris spoke the word aloud, as if to convince herself.

  Rescued. Yes, Lord.

  Iris tightened her grip on Tessa and nodded. She would not be moved, no matter how long they had to sit in this boat waiting on someone—anyone—to help.

  Alice returned to her seat, and Iris’s gaze shifted up to Titanic, that mighty queen floating so close that she could practically reach out and touch her. Still, what a strange and frightening angle the ship now held. Very odd.

  “She’s taken on too much water.” Jessie’s voice sounded from beside Iris. “She will go down.”

  “We must row out before she does.” The able seaman in charge of their boat spoke with calm assurance.

  “We should stay here!” another woman called out. “My husband is on that ship.”

  “We cannot,” another argued. “To do so now would be certain death to us all. We will be caught in the surge as the ship goes down.”

  The words settled into Iris’s heart with the weight of a ship’s anchor. The cries of the people left onboard the ship did little to squelch her fears. Even from here she could hear the women crying out, could see the men as they threw themselves onto the collapsible lifeboats. Many were dragged back across the deck, their screams piercing the night.

  From up above, a woman’s scream sounded, followed by a man’s voice: “Women and children first? I’ll show you!”

  In that moment, a small bundle flew through the air toward the boat next to theirs. She watched from a distance as one of the women caught it and the cries of a babe sounded from inside the blanket.

  “Merciful God in heaven!” a woman’s voice cried out from the other boat. “It’s a baby!” The child’s wails were nothing in comparison to the cries coming from his young mother onboard the ship above.

  Iris shuddered and closed her eyes.

  She heard the sound of little Annie’s voice. The child spoke with an obvious tremor. “J–Jessie, where is P–Papa? Is he still on the ship?”

  “I don’t know, sweet girl.” Jessie’s voice sounded calm and strong. “Maybe he’s on one of the other lifeboats. We can pray about that, all right?”

  “All right, Jessie.” Annie sighed.

  At that moment, a sweet strain caught Iris’s ear as a familiar melody filled the night air. From onboard Titanic, the sound of violins filled the night. Iris strained to make out the song but could not.

  “Oh, Jessie, listen! It’s Papa’s favorite song. If we sing it, maybe he will come to us.” Annie’s voice took on a pleading tone. “Sing, Jessie. Sing!”

  Jessie’s soothing voice rang out, the familiar hymn cradling Iris as she continued to hold Tessa in her arms.

  Nearer, my God, to Thee, nearer to Thee!

  E’en though it be a cross that raiseth me;

  Still all my song shall be nearer, my God, to Thee,

  Nearer my God to Thee, nearer to Thee.

  Iris glanced down as Tessa’s eyes fluttered open briefly. She pulled her friend closer and rubbed her arms to keep her warm as the lifeboat moved farther and farther away from the ailing ship.

  Jessie continued to sing, and before long the lady doctor joined in. Little Annie’s voice offered the sweetest melody of all, pure and angelic as she lifted her song heavenward.

  There let the way appear steps unto heav’n;

  All that Thou sendest me in mercy giv’n;

  Angels to beckon me nearer, my God, to Thee,

  Nearer my God to Thee, nearer to Thee.

  Iris glanced up at Titanic, her heart in her throat as the bow pressed down into the water and the stern lifted high. Deafening cries pierced the night, and still Jessie sang on.

  Tessa moved in and out of consciousness. In the foggy, feverish haze, she heard cries. Screams. She felt the movement of the lifeboat. And then, voices raised in song. She thought perhaps the angels had come to sing over her. They were singing, weren’t they? Yes, what a lovely melody. Familiar. Sweet. The words, haunting and holy, pierced her soul, ushering her into God’s presence, a place she had never before visited.

  Or if on joyful wing, cleaving the sky,

  Sun, moon, and stars forgot, upwards I fly,

  Still all my song shall be, nearer, my God, to Thee.

  Nearer, my God, to Thee.

  Nearer to Thee.

  In spite of the fog that clouded her mind, Tessa somehow managed to open her eyes. Off in the distance, Titanic rose in brilliant splendor out of the sea, a tall, regal woman perched for greatness. Her twinkling lights flickered and then faded in a ripple, leaving only darkness.

  Then, with the cries of her people raised in ghastly chorus, Titanic—beautiful, graceful Titanic—slipped off into the Atlantic, her song forever fading in the vast waters below.

  Early Monday Morning, April 15, 1912

  Southampton, England

  Jacquie awoke with a start, the vivid dream still fresh in her mind. She felt herself gasping for air. Sitting up in the bed, she tried to calm her nerves, but they refused to be stilled. After a few slow, calculated breaths, she finally willed herself to stop shaking. Still, the nightmare replayed itself in her imagination.

  She walked along the deck of Titanic and paused to stare down into the waters below. A sudden jolt of the ship sent her overboard, and she flew through the air like a bird in flight. Beneath her, the water beckoned, a ceremonial baptism for her sins. Her deception. Icy water swept over her like a shroud, drowning her guilt and shame.

  The scene faded as Jacquie came awake. She shivered and pulled the blankets over her shoulders as the truth surfaced—the blessed, wonderful truth.

  It was only a dream.

  Yes, thank God, it was only a dream.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Monday Morning, April 15, 3:56 a.m.

  Lifeboat Eleven

  A heavy fog held Tessa in its grip. She pressed her way out of it on several occasions, the cold night air forcing her to think twice about whether or not she had died.

  Hell isn’t supposed to be cold, is it?

  And yet, she could not deny the icy bitterness that held her tight in its grip. She gave herself over to it, convinced she must not turn back toward shore. What would be the point in going backward, after all?

  After what felt like countless hours, someone nearby let out a cry, one that startled her back to consciousness mo
mentarily.

  “A ship!”

  Tessa tried to lift her head, but the heaviness remained. She squinted to see, and lights from across the water came into view. She saw it all through a haze, a blur. Tessa thought she heard Iris’s voice raised in a prayer of thanksgiving but could not be sure. Then, just as quickly, she felt sure Jessie sang over her, a hymn pure and sweet.

  Yes, she had surely died. But heaven—if one could call this heaven—was a far cry short of perfection.

  Iris let out a cry as a ship came into view. The tears flowed with such abandon that she couldn’t see past them. To her right, little Annie awoke with a start and cried out again for her father. Jessie soothed her and then gripped Iris’s hand.

  “Tell me I’m not seeing things. That’s really a ship, isn’t it?”

  “It is.” Iris nodded, her heart in her throat. “Oh, it is!”

  As the ship pulled near, the cacophony of voices from the other lifeboats joined into one horrible song. Wails for the dead. Cries of relief for the living. Shouts and triumphant cheers for the impending rescue. All of it merged together in Iris’s mind. Through it all, the violent cold held her frozen in place, unable to move. Would she ever thaw?

  “Iris, look.” Jessie pointed off to the east, where the early morning skies peeked open, the tiniest bit of light shining through. “Dawn.”

  Iris closed her eyes, refusing to look. Instead, she turned her attention to the ship, finally able to read the name on the side.

  “She’s the Carpathia!” the seaman’s voice rang out. “Come to save us!”

  His shouts awakened the little baby in the other boat, and the little one’s cries merged with Annie’s, who wept aloud for her father. Still, with Carpathia looming before them on their right and the sun peeking through on the left, the time had come to dry their eyes.