by Anthology
“Well, dear,” her mother said, “shall we go to the afterdeck?”
“I want to stay here and keep an eye out for Mr. Schmidt.”
“He’s probably already on board,” her mother replied. “I want to go listen to Professor George Maurer and his band. Your uncle said he would save us some seats. But you can stay out on the main deck, if you wish.”
Adele sighed. “Mother, I really do not wish to be separated.”
Her mother laughed. “Child! Really. Nothing’s going to happen. Okay?”
“Okay,” Adele said without enthusiasm.
“Good. I’m going to the afterdeck to hear the music. You may stay here if you wish.”
“I think I will, at least for the moment.”
Adele waved farewell to her mother and watched the gangplank as more people came onto the boat. Although the boat was scheduled to depart at 8:45 A.M., various passengers asked Reverend Haas to hold the boat for one more family member or friend, and Haas agreed. It wasn’t until almost 9:45 AM, as a young girl and her brother flew down the pier, that the deckhands finally got ready to haul up the gangplank.
As Adele watched this, still straining her eyes for some sign of Mr. Schmidt, she spotted the wife of Philip Straub and her three children. An impulse made her approach them.
“Mrs. Straub.”
“Adele Weber! How are you?”
“Mrs. Straub, you’ve always been so nice to me, I feel I must warn you.” Adele paused for a moment, then said, “I’ve been having dreams, dark dreams of today’s excursion.”
Mrs. Straub’s face turned pale. “So I’m not the only one,” she whispered.
Adele watched as Mrs. Straub turned to a man next to her and said something. Immediately, that man grabbed his wife and five children and ran towards the gangplank. Right behind him, Straub and her three children followed. They tumbled off the boat and landed on the pier, gasping for breath.
Praise to the heavens, thought Adele. At least I’ve managed to save someone.
The gangplank disappeared, the crew began to cast off, shouts went up to the pilothouse, and the twin paddle wheels began to turn.
The General Slocum was underway.
For the next few minutes, Adele wandered the decks, looking for some sign of either Mr. Schmidt or a way off the steamboat. Children of all ages ran around, playing various games. She spotted Lillie Pfeifer, a friend who was but a year older and yet already married. Lillie and she had spent many previous excursions dancing with other teenagers on the boat, but Adele knew that things would be different today, as Lillie had to spend the day in the company of other married ladies, no matter their age. In truth, Adele felt relieved that she didn’t have to fawn over Lillie and be excited for her new marriage.
Adele turned a corner to keep Lillie from spotting her, and found herself face to face with Mr. Schmidt. His shocked expression showed that he was just as surprised to see her as she was to see him. “Mr. Schmidt? What are you doing here? I thought you would be long gone by now.”
“I should ask you the same question, Miss Weber. What are you doing here, knowing what you know?”
“My mother refused to heed my warnings, and I would not let her come on the excursion alone. I am hoping to save her.”
“Ah.” He looked down at his feet.
“Nor could I let the rest of my community go into this tragedy alone. Perhaps I could help them. What about you?” She frowned. “Didn’t you plant all the recorders you needed?” she asked with coldness in her voice. “Isn’t it time you went back to where you came from?”
“That’s just it, Miss Weber. I’m not sure if I can.”
“Oh? And why not?”
A few women bumped into Schmidt as they came around the corner. After a few hurried words of “Pardon me” and “Excuse me,” Schmidt pulled Adele over to the railing. He leaned forward and whispered in her ear.
“I stopped the disaster.”
Adele felt a lump in her throat. “What do you mean?”
“I went to the lamp room well before the fire would have started. I found a lit cigarette sitting on the floor, and I stamped it out.”
“The lamp room?”
Schmidt gave her a curious look. “Just how much of the book did you manage to read?”
“Not that much.”
He nodded. “Well, the fire started in the lamp room, just below the main deck. That is, it would have started there. But I put it out.”
“You’re not lying?”
The glum look on his face said it all. “No, I’m not. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be on the boat. I’d have stayed safely away.”
“What about all that warning about changing the future?”
Schmidt leaned back on the railing, and looked around. Adele followed his gaze. In one corner, a group of older women were deeply engaged in conversation. In another, a few children were playing a game of hide-and-seek.
Schmidt’s eyes stopped wandering, and he looked back at Adele. “I got to know everyone,” he said.
“Pardon?”
“The German-Americans of the Lower East Side. It may be a shrinking community, but it’s still a vibrant one, full of life and joy. I couldn’t bear to see it destroyed the way it once was.”
Slowly, Adele nodded. “You came to see the world through my eyes, then.”
Schmidt took a deep breath and exhaled it. “Sadly, yes. I decided it would be best if the future didn’t have a tragedy to remember.”
“Sadly, you say?”
“I’ll get in trouble if the future finds out.”
“But you changed the future.”
“Not enough, apparently. I’m still here, which means my future still exists, in some form or other. That means I’ll have to take responsibility for changing history.” He paused. “But it’s worth it all, just to see you happy.”
Adele moved closer to Mr. Schmidt. She knew it would appear unseemly, but she could only think of one way to express her gratitude—
—when suddenly, she noticed a new odor mixing with that of the salt water and sea air. An odor of burning wood.
“Lucas?” she asked, sniffing the air.
Schmidt’s eyes widened with horror. “I smell it too.”
A young boy ran past, shouting, “The boat is on fire, the boat is on fire!”
Schmidt tugged on his watch fob, brought his pocket watch up to his face, opened the case, and glanced at the time. “I’m too late.”
“What is it?”
“It’s the fire. I couldn’t stop it. The Law of Conservation of Reality kicked in.”
“What are you saying?”
“History doesn’t record exactly what started the fire. I thought it was the cigarette, but it could have been a smoldering match.” He hit the railing in frustration. “Damn. I should have stayed down there, not let anyone near the lamp room.”
“If the fire is starting, we must get to safety.”
“Yes, but—”
A man ran past them, shouting, “Quick! Grab a life preserver! Get to the boats!”
A crowd of people began running towards the boats. Adele tried to join them, but Schmidt gripped her arm tightly. “No. It won’t do us any good.”
“Why not?”
“The cork in the life preservers has become cork dust. If you jumped overboard wearing one, you would sink like a stone.”
“What about the lifeboats?”
“Held down with wire,” Schmidt responded. “They’ll never get one loose in time.”
“You knew all this?”
“Yes, I did.” He paused. “It’s part of history.”
She glared. “It was all in that book, wasn’t it?”
He nodded. “Yes, it was.”
“Mein Gott! My mother! I must find my mother!” She tried to pull her arm out of Schmidt’s grip, but failed. “Let me go!”
“No, Adele. It’s too dangerous. You’ll find yourself rushing into a wall of flame.”
Tears began to come to her
eyes, as passengers jostled around them, running towards the lifeboats. “You must let me go save my mother!”
Schmidt grabbed her other arm and swung her around. “Adele, listen to me! We can’t save everyone. It’s too late. History must play itself out. But we can save ourselves, and your mother as well, if you will calm down and follow my instructions.”
Adele nodded. “What do we do?”
“I’m a time traveler. I can take us out of phase with the timeline. Then I can leave you suspended outside of time while I go search for your mother.”
“You intend to leave me in safety while you risk yourself to find my mother?”
“Using my time machine is the only way I can attempt to save both of you.”
Adele took a deep breath. “Swear to the Lord that you are not lying to me.”
“Adele, I swear to the heavens above that I am not lying. May I use my time machine to save us?”
“Do it.”
Schmidt unbuttoned his jacket. Underneath he wore an odd belt with metal buttons. He took Adele’s hand in his and wrapped it around his belt, making sure she had a firm grip.
“The belt is your time machine?” she asked.
“Yes. Now hold on.”
He pushed a button, and the world around them seemed to fade into nonexistence.
Panic embraced the hearts and souls of the women, children, and men on board the General Slocum. Some people ran to find their children. Others ran for the life preservers; the few who managed to put them on and jump into the water drowned almost immediately.
People died in fire. People died in water.
And Adele Weber, floating outside of time like an insubstantial ghost, had a front-row seat for the entire disaster.
She watched as a man started swimming towards land. Three or four women—she couldn’t tell because of the way they flailed about in the water—grabbed at the man, desperate for some way to stay afloat. He screamed at them and tried to push them away, but it was no use. The women grabbed onto the man, and without meaning to, dragged him under the water.
She watched as Captain Van Schiack ordered his pilot, Van Wart, to beach the wooden steamboat on North Brother Island—a full mile away, nowhere near as close as the Bronx docks or the Queens shore.
She watched as fire and smoke flew from the front of the vessel to the stern, filling the decks. The flame swept higher and higher, devouring the boat like an insatiable monster. Sparks and embers jumped onto people, who screamed as the air filled with the sickening odor of their burning, shriveling flesh.
She watched as strangers picked up children that were not their own and threw them overboard. The children shouted for their parents as they fell into the darkness of the cold water, most never to emerge.
She watched as George Heins, only one year younger than Adele, ran to grab a small girl, but was too late as she disappeared into a sudden wall of flame.
She watched as people crushed each other against the rails, forcing others overboard, where they quickly drowned.
She watched as Lucas Schmidt dove into and out of time, trying to locate and rescue her mother.
She watched until she could not bear to watch anymore, but her eyes refused to close, until finally, the steamboat, engulfed with fire, had made it to North Brother Island.
And then she lost consciousness.
Adele awoke on a bed in a strange room, with Schmidt sitting in a chair next to her.
“Lucas?” she called out. “Where am I?”
“I brought you to a hotel to recuperate. You’ve been in and out of a coma. It’s an aftereffect of being outside of time for so long without a time belt to keep your quantum structure stable.”
“How long have I been unconscious?”
“About two days.”
She pushed herself up out of the bed. “Days?”
“It’s Friday. Mid-morning.” He pointed at a stack of newspapers. “I’ve brought you the news, if you want to know what’s been going on.”
“Perhaps I should just read Ship Ablaze,” she said sarcastically.
Schmidt shrugged. “I may have changed history. The book might not be as accurate as it had been. And anyway, I don’t have it here in 1904 anymore.”
Adele picked up the newspapers and began rustling through them. The headlines spoke of nothing but the disaster. “499 Known To Be Dead” reported the Herald. “Horror in East River!” from the Tribune. At least Pulitzer’s World had found something good to report: “Many Gallant Rescues of the Drowning!”
“They’re reporting anywhere from five hundred to one thousand dead,” Adele said.
“That always happens after a tragedy such as this one,” Schmidt replied. “It’ll take a while for the numbers to settle down.”
“One thousand twenty-one,” Adele said. “From the inside front cover of your book.”
“Um, yes. Again, though, you’re assuming that I didn’t change history, even though I tried.”
Adele thought of the Straub family she had saved, but said nothing about them. Instead, she said, “You didn’t change history, Mr. Schmidt. If you had, you wouldn’t be here anymore.”
He sighed. “You’re probably right. But I won’t know for sure until I return to the future.”
“When—when do you leave?”
“Not for a day or two more, at least. I’ve got to make sure all my recordings are set.”
“Hm,” Adele said, and returned to perusing the paper. After a moment, she found something that made her gasp loudly.
“What is it?” Schmidt asked.
She pointed at the article. “It says here that they’ve set up a makeshift morgue at the Charities Pier on East Twenty-Sixth Street.”
Schmidt leaned over and took a look at it. “Yes, they have.”
“Did you—where is my mother?”
A dark cloud seemed to pass over Schmidt’s face. He cleared his throat and said, “I’m sorry, Adele. I was too late.”
Adele felt a lump in her throat. She held back her tears and said, “I see.”
“The fire was everywhere. I couldn’t even find her.” He paused. “But I tried, Adele. I did try. Please believe me.”
She pushed the pile of newspapers to the floor. “I need to go to the morgue,” she said. “I need to find my mother.”
“You can’t,” Schmidt said.
“I can and I will!”
He hesitated, then nodded. “All right. But let me go with you. She may not even be there. And even if she is, you may not like what you find.”
“You wish to come with me?”
“Yes, I do.” He paused. “You’ve already been through a lot; I want to make sure you’re all right.”
Adele studied the earnest expression on Schmidt’s face, and then nodded. “Very well. Let us go immediately.”
They left the room and descended the stairs to the hotel lobby. Schmidt tipped a doorman, who called for a horse and carriage. “Mr. Schmidt, I thought we would take a public conveyance.”
“This is more private.”
“Also more expensive.”
He shrugged. “I have resources. Please let me assist you as I can.”
Adele nodded. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Schmidt held the carriage door for her, and the two of them rode to the pier.
Adele and Schmidt descended the carriage at the end of the street. As Schmidt paid the driver, Adele took in the sight. Huge crowds of people, mostly men, wandered all over the pier, speaking in hushed, quiet tones. Many carried photographs of their loved ones, pressing them onto other people in the crowd and asking if anyone had seen them. Policemen were scattered about the crowd, but some were patrolling right where the carriage dropped them off.
“Sir, madam, may we ask your business here?” one of the policemen asked with a harsh tone in his voice.
“We were on the boat,” Schmidt said. “We’re hoping to find this lady’s mother.”
“Oh.” He moved to let them by. “Sorry
, sir, but we thought you might be more curiosity seekers.”
“What?” Adele asked. “Did I hear you right?”
The policeman nodded. “It’s disgusting, isn’t it? A lot of them came here Wednesday night and Thursday. For the excitement of being here.”
“Fire and Flames,” Adele said under her breath.
“What, miss?”
“Nothing.”
As they walked into the crowd, Adele’s gaze shifted from left to right. When they got to the smaller crowd in front of the covered pier, she whispered, “It seems so calm.”
One of the men waiting there responded. “There was a riot yesterday,” he said. “Shortly after Mayor McClellan left. But the police got it under control.”
“Oh,” Adele said, not sure what to say. “You were here yesterday?”
The man nodded. “My wife and children weren’t in the morgue yesterday. I know they’ve got to be alive somewhere. I just know it. I’m hoping someone here might have some information.”
Another man joined the conversation. “Things were really bad yesterday. Some people tried to jump in the river when they found the bodies of their loved ones.”
“Oh,” Adele said. “I hope—that is—I’m sorry.”
The man nodded. “Thank you. I’m sorry for whatever loss you’ve suffered as well.” He paused. “I’ve found some of my family, but not all. I’m hoping to find the rest today so we can bury them all together.”
“Conrad Muth,” said a morgue attendant at the entrance.
“That’s me,” the man said.
“Come with me, please.”
Adele moved forward before the attendant and Mr. Muth could move away. “Excuse me, please. I’d like to check in.”
“What’s your name, Miss?”
“Adele Weber. I’m looking for my mother, Mathilde.”
The attendant made a note on a piece of paper. “Okay, Miss Weber, we’ll call you when we’re ready for you.” He paused. “I don’t want to raise your hopes, though, Miss. There’s only about twenty-five bodies left. If you haven’t found your mother by now . . .” He trailed off.