The White Hunter

by Gilbert, Morris

  The talk took a curious turn. It concerned wealth and the abundance or the lack of it. Annie had never been around really wealthy people and she listened carefully.

  The Strauses said little enough. Mrs. Straus remarked once, “It’s only God’s will, I think, that my husband and I have a surplus. I could as easily have been born in a slum in New York.”

  “No, my dear, you were fated,” Guggenheim said. He added adamantly, “Never put yourself down because you have wealth. It’s not a sin to be wealthy.” He looked over at Annie, saying, “The Bible’s full of wealthy men such as Solomon. He was the wealthiest man of his day, was he not?”

  “Yes, sir, he was.”

  “Well, there you are.”

  Annie felt constrained to add, “But at the end of his life when he added up what it had meant, he said of his money that it was merely vanity.” She saw this displeased Guggenheim.

  Clive said quickly, “Good for you, Annie. I suppose that’ll settle the issue.”

  Guggenheim was combative, and finally he turned to address Clive, who had entered the argument on Annie’s side. “Are you a Christian then, Winters?”

  Clive Winters suddenly grew silent. All the eyes of those at the table fell on him, especially Annie’s. Finally he nodded and said, “Yes, sir, I am—I mean to say, I was.”

  Jeanine turned to look at him as if his words had touched a nerve. She said nothing, but there was a look in her eyes that Annie did not miss. Clive looked up then and said, “I’ve been a follower of Jesus Christ since I was seventeen years old. I’ve gotten away from my first love for God, but I purpose to turn my life over to Him completely.”

  “Oh, I’m so glad!” Annie said impulsively.

  There was a silence at the table, and then the ship’s orchestra struck up a ragtime tune and the moment passed. Annie, however, saw that Clive’s words had meant something to Jeanine, and she resolved to talk to her about it later.

  After the luncheon was over, Annie went down into the third-class section of the ship, where she found Kathleen, as usual, struggling to keep the children occupied.

  “Here, let me have that big boy of yours,” she said. Snatching Michael up, Annie began to entertain him by joggling him on her knee. His head wobbled from side to side as he grinned toothlessly and chortled happily. “He’s such a happy boy,” she giggled.

  “Just like his father,” Kathleen answered quickly. Tears came to her eyes and she dashed them away. “I can’t help it. I’m sorry, Miss Annie.”

  “That’s all right. I understand.”

  “It was so hard to lose him. We had such a short time together.”

  “Why, he’s not lost.”

  Kathleen looked up quickly. “Not lost? What do you mean, Miss Annie?”

  “I mean when something’s lost, you don’t know where it is, but you know where your husband is. You told me he was a Christian.”

  “That he was.”

  “Then he’s in heaven with the holy angels and all of God’s people who have been gathered home. One day you’ll go there and you’ll meet him again. So he’s not lost.”

  “But how can I be sure? I’ve not been a good girl, not really.”

  Kathleen’s honesty touched something in Annie. She began to talk to her about Jesus and soon found out that the young woman only had a limited concept of God. She had no real concept of salvation. Annie, holding Michael, explained God’s wonderful plan of salvation. She saw that Kathleen was listening carefully, her lips parted. It was a message she had never heard before.

  “So I need to call upon God?”

  “Yes, indeed. Ask Jesus to come into your heart, then you’ll never be lonely.”

  And so Kathleen O’Fallon bowed her head and the two women prayed together. The children were quiet, which was a miracle, and soon Annie said, “Now, did you ask the Lord to forgive your sins?”

  “Yes, I did, Miss Annie.”

  “And did you ask Him to save you?”

  “Yes, I did. Am I saved now?”

  “Indeed you are. You did exactly what I did when I was a little girl. Now you have to learn how to let God take over your life.”

  Annie stayed with Kathleen all afternoon. They read the Bible together, and it was a happy young woman who embraced Annie when she finally left, saying, “I feel different. I still will miss Sean, but I know I’ll see him again. When I get to America, I won’t know how to go on with God.”

  “I’ll help you. You’ll find a church, and there’ll be people there who will love you. That’s the way it is. You’re a part of the family of God now.”

  ****

  The bridge was dark except for the glow of the instrument lights. Captain Smith stood beside First Officer Murdoch, listening as he read off their progress. “Well, sir, we made 386 miles on the twelfth, 519 miles on the thirteenth, and today, the fourteenth, we’ve made 546 miles.”

  “Very good, First Officer.”

  Murdoch chewed his lower lip. “I’m worried about the ice, sir.”

  “We’re well out of the floes. There’ll just be a few isolated bergs. Put two good men up in the lookout with sharp eyes.”

  “Aye, sir. I’ll attend to it.” Murdoch waited until the captain left and then appointed his two best men to serve as lookouts. “Be sharp!” he said.

  “Yes, sir!” they both said simultaneously, then ascended to their perch.

  As soon as they were seated, drawing their black wool coats about them, they began to talk. They lit up cigarettes, and one tall sailor named Jenkins said, “I’d rather be down below in my bunk catching some shut-eye.”

  “Ah, it’s a short watch,” his companion replied. “Just think about when we get to New York. What a time we’ll have.”

  The two talked for some time. They rested as comfortably as possible against the sharp wind. They had both been to New York before and planned their good times as the Titanic moved relentlessly through the dark waters.

  ****

  Radio man Jack Phillips held out a piece of paper to Lee Maddox. Etched lines of three upright creases appeared between his eyes, and he said gruffly, “Well, there’s another one, Lee.”

  Maddox took the piece of paper. “More ice?”

  “Yes. That’s six messages warning us about ice, and I don’t think the captain has seen any of them.”

  “Oh yes, he has. I took one of them up. I gave it to Officer Murdoch. I saw him turn and give it to the captain.”

  “Well, if they’ve heard about it, they don’t seem to be doing anything to act on it.”

  Maddox scratched his chin thoughtfully. He was a tall man of thirty with hazel eyes and a mustache of which he was unreasonably proud. He stroked it now and shrugged, “That’s right. We’re almost going full speed. I heard one of the officers say that we ought to be headed away from the ice fields.”

  “The way I hear it,” Phillips said, “we’re trying to set a record.” He settled back and began to copy a message that was coming in over the radio. Maddox turned and left the radio room, going at once to the bridge. It was ten o’clock and First Officer Murdoch arrived at the bridge at the same time. He looked up at Maddox and snapped, “Well, what is it, Maddox?”

  “Another ice warning, sir.”

  “I can read!” Murdoch barked, glaring at the radio man.

  Maddox, who was unaccustomed to such sharpness, turned away and thought, Murdoch is worried. He’s nervous. I wonder if he knows something that I don’t.

  The helmsman who stood with his hand gripped to the wheel had taken all this in. His name was Johnson, and he was an excellent helmsman and an excellent sailor. Ordinarily he would not think of questioning any action that his officers thought they should take, but now he said, “Sir, does the captain know about all this ice?”

  Murdoch swiveled his head and glared at the sailor. “You just take care of the steering, Johnson! Let the captain take care of running the ship.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  Murdoch positioned himself, pe
ering out over the green-gray waves that lapped at the side of the ship. The thought of an iceberg frightened him badly. He was not afraid of those he could see, but he had seen huge bergs with only a few inches showing, and he knew that such a berg could rip the bottom out of a ship. His brother had died at sea from such an encounter, and now Murdoch longed to reason with the captain to change course. He was a man of tradition, however, schooled in the etiquette of command on the high seas. It was not the first officer’s place to bring his captain to any kind of judgment—especially a captain like Smith. Gritting his teeth, he thought, I’ll be glad when we get to New York. I’m beginning to hate this trip.

  ****

  Jeanine, Clive, and Annie entered the Café Parisien earlier that evening. The three had agreed to try it, and as soon as they stepped in, Clive said, “Why, you can imagine yourself at a sidewalk cafe on a Parisian boulevard.”

  “Yes, you can,” Jeanine agreed. She seemed somewhat freer in spirit, and as the three sat down, she looked around, saying, “How many times have I sat down at a little place like this in Paris?”

  There was a casual atmosphere about the place, and over in the corner of the room a string trio was playing softly. Ordinarily it was not a place where the wealthier passengers would eat, but rather a place to come between meals or after dinner. It was a favorite spot for the younger set in the first class, or those pretending to be young, such as a group of women that now laughed loudly over some joke three tables away from where the three sat watching them. Annie looked up at the ivy-covered trellises and then at the wicker chairs, which set the style for the place, and said, “I like this better than the Ritz.”

  “So do I,” Clive said. He looked at a menu that a steward brought and said, “Look, they’ve got roasted squab on wilted cress.”

  “What’s that?” Annie said.

  “Squab? Didn’t you notice it at lunch? It’s simply a small game bird. Pretty common in Europe, and, of course, cress is watercress.”

  Clive ordered the squab and so did Annie, while Jeanine ordered calvados-glazed roast duckling with applesauce.

  As they were eating, Annie said suddenly, “I’ll be glad to get back to the States and get some plain roast beef. Or if I were back home at my parents’, I could get the best steak you ever saw right off the cow that was walking around that morning.”

  The other two grinned at her. “I know what you mean,” Clive grinned. “I get hungry for good, plain food, too. Seems like anything rich like this gets old quickly.”

  The three sat there leisurely eating French vanilla ice cream for dessert and spoke of unimportant things. Clive had been listening to Annie talk about her childhood, and he said abruptly, “Tell me about your conversion, Annie.”

  “My conversion?”

  “Yes. How did you find God?”

  Annie shot a glance at Jeanine, expecting her to make a light remark, but she saw that Jeanine was simply toying with her coffee, her eyes down. “I’m afraid I don’t have a very dramatic testimony, Clive,” she said.

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Well, I’ve always envied those people who had dramatic testimonies.”

  Clive suddenly laughed aloud. “You mean like sixteen-car wrecks and an invitation?”

  Annie could not help but smile. “Something like that. I always felt envious of people who had experienced that sort of thing.”

  “But you didn’t?”

  “No. It was very simple. I was only twelve. I’d been in church all my life and heard the Gospel, but for some reason one Sunday morning the pastor preached on the love of Jesus Christ. It was a simple sermon. I can’t remember any of the details. He just talked about how Jesus loved people, how He went about healing those that were sick, comforting those that were in trouble, and suddenly I began to cry. And when the invitation was given, I knew I had to have that love in my life. So I went forward and the pastor prayed with me; he asked me to pray and I did.” Suddenly tears came into Annie’s eyes, and her voice was not steady as she said, “Ever since that morning, there hasn’t been a day when Jesus hasn’t been with me.”

  The sound of laughter came tinkling from other tables. There was a hum of voices, but the three of them sat there silently. Clive was examining Annie with a warm regard, and suddenly Jeanine said, “I think that’s sweet, Annie. I wish my life had been like yours. You’re the best woman I’ve ever known.”

  The unexpected compliment brought a flush to Annie’s throat. “Why, that’s too much, Jeanine.”

  “No, it’s not,” Jeanine insisted. She kept her eyes down and her face half turned away. “I’ve been suspicious of Christians for a long time. I hired you so that I could prove that you were a fraud and a hypocrite, and I’ve tried to make you lose whatever religion you claim to have.” She looked up suddenly, and to the shock of both Clive and Annie, tears glistened in her lovely violet eyes. She started to speak but her voice broke, and without a word she got up and left the table, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief.

  “I’ve never seen her like that, Clive.”

  “Neither have I.”

  The two sat there silent for a moment, and then Clive reached over and took Annie’s hand. “I think this is Jeanine’s time, Annie. God is speaking to her. I’m sure of it.”

  “Let’s pray.”

  The three loud women across the room became aware of the two who clasped hands with their heads bowed. One of them began to laugh, but she broke it off sharply, then turned away. Others noticed the two also, including the steward. His name was Lee Watson. He was himself a fine Christian man. He longed to say a word of encouragement to the two and almost did, but then thought, It is not my place. Anyway, they don’t appear to need help.

  ****

  At eleven o’clock Jack Phillips received an ice warning from the Californian. It was a message sent by Cyril Evans, and the tenor of the message was that the ice seemed to be more prominent.

  Jack Phillips was sick of the reception he had gotten from his officers. It was not that he was upset with Evans, but he was upset with his own captain and with the first officer. He said roughly, “I don’t want to hear about any more ice! You can shut up, Evans! I’m busy at important things. I’m working the wireless station at Cape Race.”

  On board the Californian, Cyril Evans grew angry. He ripped off his headphones, shut off his radio, and said angrily, “Well, if that’s the way you feel about it, you can see how many more warnings you get from me!” He turned and left, then put the matter out of his mind. Back in the radio room of the Californian, the radio was silent, and Cyril Evans was quickly asleep in his bed.

  ****

  “So she said to me, ‘You think you’re a real man, do ya? Well, we’ll see about that!’ ”

  Mike Taylor drew his pea coat closer around him and grinned at his companion. “Harold, you’re too young to have had all the experiences with women that you brag about.”

  Harold Simpkins, a native of Bristol, nudged Taylor in the ribs. “You think that, do you, boy? Well, when we get back you and me will go to Liverpool. I’ll show you a time there. Why, I know a little blond bird just for you. . . .”

  Simpkins continued to boast about his amorous exploits for the next ten minutes. He was interrupted suddenly when Mike Taylor came upright and stared out with disbelief at the gray waters ahead. It was dark, but he saw clearly the huge berg that loomed ahead. Grabbing the voice tube, he screamed, “Berg ahead! Berg dead ahead! Below there! Berg dead ahead!”

  Simpkins began screaming also. “Iceberg right ahead!”

  On the bridge, First Officer Murdoch stood stock-still, shock running over him, for he saw the huge mass of ice almost at once. Instantly he called out, “Ship’s engine stop! Full speed astern!” At the same time, he watched as the berg seemed to loom ahead, and then he called for a hard turn to port. He stood there watching, willing the huge ship to turn, which it did not seem to do.

  Finally First Officer Murdoch felt the Titanic answer the helm, bu
t at the same time her forty-six thousand tons slammed into the wall of ice.

  Murdoch breathed a sigh of relief. “We missed it! A little damage, but not bad.” He spoke his words aloud and saw that Johnson, the helmsman, was wiping the perspiration from his face.

  “It was a bad ’un, sir. But I think we’re all right.”

  ****

  Down below, Annie was in her cabin. She was still awake and had been praying for Jeanine. Suddenly she felt something odd. She could not define it, but the deck underneath her feet was trembling, and running to the porthole, she was shocked to see a wall of white ice.

  “An iceberg!” she whispered hoarsely. The ship was bumping along and she heard metal creaking, and the thought came into her mind, It’s like a kiss of death.

  Annie did not know much about ships, but as she watched the ship scrape along the berg, she suddenly remembered Jeanine’s words. “Not even God himself could sink this ship.” The words touched her with a chill and she stood there, unable to think clearly. She could only pray, “God be with us.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “I’ll Be With Him This Day in Paradise. . . .”

  Thomas Andrews, the managing director of the construction of the Titanic, had handsome, classic features and was a man of iron control, but when he traced the outline of the Titanic structure on a large blueprint, his hand was shaking. He took great pride in the ship, as he did all the ships he built, but this one he considered the crown achievement of his career thus far. Now he looked up with tortured eyes and said, “Captain Smith, the ship cannot survive. Too many of the watertight compartments have been ruptured.” His voice broke slightly, and he cleared his throat, then added, “She is going down.”

  For a moment Captain Smith did not seem to understand the solemn words of Andrews. He stared at him with incomprehension and then, finally, as the truth broke upon him, whispered, “How long?”