The men nodded; exhaustion, determination and grim fear flitted across their faces, yet they looked capable.
“Yes, Captain,” they replied.
Smith ordered the men to their stations, before heading to the Marconi room to see Phillips and Bride.
They were the ship’s only hope now.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Monday, April 15th, 1912
Claire
Claire held Isla’s hand in her left, and Nora’s in her right. She regretted waiting as long as she had for Adene; it had taken them longer than she’d like to dress the children warmly, then herself, and they had not been easy to rouse, not wishing to leave the warm cabin. Isla had not stopped asking for her mother, and Nora had started crying and sucking her thumb. Both children appeared distressed; and now that the halls were beginning to fill with passengers, confused.
“Where are we going? What is happening?” Isla demanded, stamping her foot. “I don’t want to go any further without Mummy.” Claire tried to ignore the break in Isla’s voice when she said ‘Mummy’.
Claire tried not to let her frustration show as they reached another locked gate, another dead end – the third one she’d managed to find. Sweat was dripping down her neck and back now; she knew there were plenty of exits – at times, she’d noticed the signs saying “emergency exit” during the trip, but she couldn’t remember where. Everything in Scotland Road looked the same; it was difficult to distinguish where they were, where they’d been, and where they needed to go. To make matters worse, there were so many gates separating the steerage passengers from the others; it was part of the US’s immigration laws, though they’d been opened earlier, when Sunday Mass had been conducted. The sermon had been Evangelical, but still, Claire had not missed Mass in her entire life, and she was not about to begin now.
Like every other passenger in steerage, she’d been assessed – and so had Nora – for any diseases before boarding, her eyes forced open in uncomfortable positions, and her hair checked for lice. Claire had not been entirely sure what the doctors had been assessing, and while she deemed it necessary, she felt degraded remembering her unpleasant experience. People who had never been “less than” never understood what it was like to be less than.
Claire couldn’t help but wonder how much of America was segregated; the ship had made it clear the gates were locked and enforced thanks to America’s immigration policy, not the White Star Line’s. Did that mean that she might be barred from certain establishments? She hoped not. Her cousins hadn’t been, and they had lived in America for some time.
This ship is so impossibly large, she thought with frustration. It felt for every right turn she took, she took several wrong ones, some resulting in dead ends, and dread began filling her body. Not every door or gate was locked, but it did not always lead her to the Boat Deck. Instead, it seemed to take her further into the ship’s bowels. Where is Cillian? She wondered miserably. She knew she should be thinking of Adene – what had kept her from returning? – but her heart ached for the man she loved. Claire could not help but hope she would find him, and he would manage to save her and the wee ones.
“Claire, Claire, Claire,” Isla started, and Claire closed her eyes, forcing a smile on her face. It didn’t reach her eyes, and she hoped she did not yield any panic. The children were tired and irritated; she did not need them frightened, especially while she was alone. The small hallway was filling up with luggage, and people of Middle Eastern descent were filling the halls.
“Yes?”
“This is boring.”
“I know it’s not fun –”
“Boring.”
“Right, yes, it’s boring. But we’re not only looking for your Mummy, Isla, but we’re looking for other passengers, like Cillian, or anyone who appears to be heading up top. We’re looking for a way up toward the Boat Deck. Remember how we all went upstairs for the mass after breakfast?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Well, we need to go up that way again.”
“Cool. It was pretty up there,” Isla replied. Claire loved how life was simple for children. She wished life could be simple for her.
“Why?” Nora suddenly spoke up, catching Claire by surprise.
“Because we need to go up top, is all. It’s important.”
“Is it like how we went above, this morning? For prayer? Are we doing that again? I’ve never done prayer at night,” Isla said.
“Kind of,” Claire said, desperate. “It’s essential that we make our way up above, as quick as can be, though. We won’t be in the same grand room, though. We’ll be on the deck, like when your mum takes you for walks on the Poop Deck.”
“Okay,” Isla said, smiling brightly. She started skipping along, while Nora lagged, sucking intently on her thumb.
“It’s okay, Nora. We’re safe,” Claire said, hoping God was not going to make a liar out of her. “Nothing is going to happen. Perhaps hold Abigail for a while.”
Nora simply looked at her aunt, and Claire felt her niece’s look strangle her of air. Before she could comfort her niece, however, she heard Isla’s cry: “Mr Cillian! It’s you!” she cried happily.
Claire’s heart squeezed in her chest, robbing her of air.
They were going to be okay, after all.
She had found Cillian.
“Cillian!” she gushed, rushing toward him, hugging him. “I didn’t know where you were.” Claire didn’t add how frightened she was.
“Oh, Claire Bear,” Cillian whispered, his thick Irish accent whispering in her ear, sending chills down her spine. “I’ve been lookin’ all over for you. I was frightened when I arrived at your cabin, and you weren’t there.”
“I waited,” Claire bit her lip, her chin wobbling. “Adene hadn’t returned, and I didn’t know what else to do.” Tears began welling in her eyes.
“Hey, hey,” Cillian replied, wiping her tears. “It’s okay. I’ve got you now. I’m going to make sure you, Nora and Isla are safe, okay?”
Claire nodded. She felt silly – what on earth did she think was really going to happen – but the corridors had become small, twisty and windy, and every step she took, it felt as if her chest had been crushed. If it hadn’t been for the two wee ones, she was sure and certain she would’ve curled into a little ball, afraid to move.
“Is it true? Did we hit the ice, like the steward said?” Claire whispered.
Cillian looked at her, his eyes piercing hers. “It’s bad, Claire,” he whispered, though he kept his tone light, so as not to fret the wee ones. “There was water in my cabin, when we woke. One of the boys fell from his bunk. We didn’t scrape by, if that’s what you’re thinkin’. We hit it. And I think we’re sinkin’. I don’t need to be an engineer to know it’s not good when there’s water inside the ship.”
Claire breathed, trying not to panic; the room swirled around her.
Was Cillian right?
Sinking?
“Are you sure?” Claire asked, and Cillian shrugged.
“That I woke to water in my bunk? Yeah. I don’t know if the ship’ll sink soon, though. It’s so big, it took me an eternity to find my way to you, with all these damn passages, dead-ends and corridors. And there’s plenty of lifeboats,” he added, and Claire wondered how he knew that. She supposed all ships would be required to carry a mandatory amount of life vessels, in case of emergency – even on something as grand as the Titanic.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Monday, 15th April, 1912
Adene
Adene’s panic mounted; her daughter was missing, as was Claire and Nora. They’ll be together, she tried to assure herself. Claire must have been roused by a steward; there were plenty of them filling the halls now, passing out lifebelts, shouting for passengers to wear them. Some passengers seemed to be in a hurry, but most were lugging their trunks – scraping them across the red floor of Scotland Road, bewildered. Adene knew most of the passengers in third did not speak English, and that the accompanying transl
ator allocated to third-class seldom helped men without a fee (usually a pint or two of Guinness), though if he found a comely lass, he would often waive the fee. Adene had quickly come to rely on the multilingual passengers, eager to help, even if their accents were broken, and their English less fluent.
Regardless, Adene ignored the corridors filled with passengers. Whether or not they understood exactly what the stewards were saying, they were still following the mass flow of people, as they headed towards the main gates. Adene focused on her problem at hand: Locating her daughter. Perhaps Claire had waited for a spell, perhaps she had felt that she could not; at least not for very long. Despite Adene’s fear, she inwardly praised Claire’s determination. Should Adene perish, Isla would not; that was the most important thing. Losing her husband was one thing; losing her daughter was unconscionable.
Adene pushed through the milling crowds that were spilling everywhere, different languages and accents filling the hall, and tried turning down different corridors, only to find that they were barred. The stewards kept telling the passengers to try different routes, but they were never clear about where the passengers might find said routes.
Adene, spying a steward, approached him. The young man looked annoyed and harried. “Excuse me, sir –”
“Just follow the routes, Miss,” the man said, barely meeting her eye. His white forehead as brimming with sweat.
“I don’t know where I’m meant to go,” Adene pleaded. “You see, I’ve lost my daughter to all this confusion and fuss. I must be reunited her.”
The man nodded, but he was already leaving. “Just follow the signs, miss, like I said. You’ll find the right route soon enough.”
What routes? Adene wanted to call: The ship was a confusing mess of different halls; some resulted in surprise dead-ends, others led to locked doors or gates. Adene felt as if no sense of order had been prepared along with the Captain’s orders; the stewards seemed as annoyed as the passengers.
Adene watched as water, from where she’d exited, began to flow upwards, running slowly down some of the steps. A few people had noticed, exclaiming at the cascading fountain. Adene swallowed, understanding what the water meant, even if not everyone around her did.
If the water was running down the stairs, it meant that it had reached above, and was now flowing down.
Which meant that they were sinking, then, Adene realised.
And she had no idea where her daughter was.
Chapter Thirty
Monday, April 15th, 1912
Georgiana
“Honestly, this seems terribly inconvenient,” Georgiana said, irritably, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, pouting. “I don’t understand why they’d have a drill so late in the night. Drills aren’t even that common. We didn’t have a single one on any of the ships we sailed across during our honeymoon. Are you sure all of this is necessary?” Georgiana heaved, lifting her pale arm, pointing at the fuss the stewards and stewardesses were causing.
“Maybe we should treat it seriously,” William suggested. “It’s not a mere drill, after all. An iceberg really did hit us.”
“And the men were using ice to fill their drinks,” retorted Georgiana. “Is that not what you said, when you returned, dismissing my qualms? No one cares that an iceberg hit the Titanic. It’s an iceberg. This is the Titanic.”
William sighed, rolling his eyes. “Must you always make things difficult, Georgie? You have a need to put words in my mouth, ark up at the most trivial things. I am merely suggesting that perhaps it would be proper to address the situation appropriately and with care. I really think you ought to change into something warmer. What if we’re on deck for a while? Do you really want everyone to spy you in your nightdress?”
Georgiana remained silent; sometimes it was best to bite one’s tongue, even when one’s husband was targeting one’s vanity. She was tired, as was he, and she did not want to fight with her husband when she simply wanted to sleep. Georgiana tried not to curse Captain Smith’s safety procedures. If she were on a lesser vessel, there may be cause for alarm. It was good that the Captain considered the safety of passengers.
Even if it was freezing cold and a quarter past midnight.
“No, I don’t believe I will,” Georgiana responded, lifting her arms so Jessop could help her shrug on her fur coat. “By the time we reach the Boat Deck, I’m sure Captain Smith will have come to his senses. I don’t see the fuss in changing into my corset and evening gear just to come down and undress in a few minutes’ time. It’s ridiculous. It’s after midnight, William.”
The adjoined door to her parents’ suite opened, without any knock, causing the pair to jump apart. “Is Cecilia here?” barked Albert.
Georgiana felt shaken; her father sounded cold, though he appeared undisturbed by the captain’s orders to move to the Boat Deck.
“No, Papa,” Georgiana replied, thought a twinge of concern filled her heart. Georgiana could guess where her sister might be, but even to her it seemed queer that she would visit Henry so late in the night. “Perhaps she felt the jolt when the rest of us did not, and went to see what all the commotion was. You know how naturally inquisitive Celia is. Jessop stated that some of the other stewardesses felt the commotion, didn’t you Jessop?”
Her father frowned, as if he didn’t believe Georgiana’s statement, yet desperately wanted to. Albert turned to Eleonora, who look dazed, before settling his gaze upon William. “Perhaps.”
“It’s after midnight, Papa,” Georgiana pushed. Once they found Cecilia, hell would likely break loose, especially as her father would become more irritable as the night drew on. With any hope, Captain Smith will see his folly before this madness continues, Georgiana pleaded. “Where else would she be? She was probably sulking in her room, instead of sleeping, and went up deck to see. I know that Jessop woke me before the stewards came, saying she heard something about an iceberg. Isn’t it most likely that’s what happened with Celia, too, Papa? I’m sure and certain if we head to the gymnasium or lounge, like the Captain’s asked, we’ll find her there. She might even be out on deck, checking to see if she can see the iceberg.” Georgiana busied herself with her ordering Jessop to collect blankets so that her parents wouldn’t see the lie in either woman’s face. Jessop remained silent, knowing it was not her place to question Georgiana.
“There are a few people milling the hallways,” Eleonora said, mollifying her husband. “Celia’s curious by nature, Albert, just like Georgie said. It’s likely she felt the shudder, and wandered around, seeking adventure.” Georgiana caught her mother’s dark-blue eyes – darker than usual, as if they’d changed colour to match the dark sky – did not believe her own claim. However, Georgiana knew her mother well enough to know she wouldn’t leave her daughter to fend off her father’s wrath. While Eleonora would not presume that Cecilia head towards Henry’s cabin – even Georgiana could scarcely come to terms with the thought – she would imagine that Cecilia was likely defying them for Henry, in any regard.
However, even to Georgiana, the alternative was unseemly. There was no decent reason a woman of high status should visit a man’s cabin alone, even more so late at night. Surely Celia wouldn’t have gone to Henry’s room, no matter what she heard or thought? Georgiana had never been alone with William, not truly, not even when they were formerly engaged. They had never been alone for longer than a few precious minutes until their wedding night. It may be the twentieth century, for golly’s sake, but Georgiana was still a lady.
Please, Celia, I hope for your sake you are not so foolish. By morn, Mama and Papa will be aware of your absence, and if you are not on the Boat Deck, their wrath will be considerable. I pray you were not so foolish as to chase him.
“Let us see if Eliana and the children are prepared,” Eleonora interrupted, her voice anxious. “I am eager to head to the Boat Deck. It’s already half twelve.”
“Why, Eleonora? Do you fear the ship’s invincibility?” Albert mocked his wife. Georgiana could tell he was a
lready in a terrible mood; he may have found the iceberg mishap fascinating, but now he found it grating. “This is utterly ridiculous. And Cecilia’s gone off into the night, like some wanton woman.”
“Albert, I fear the consequences of being too cavalier,” Eleonora retorted, moving towards Eliana’s suite, opening the door. Lady Primrose looked confounded and unsure, while Master Albert was wailing, his face red and splotchy. He was currently screaming about being woken, and there was something that Georgiana couldn’t quite make out about one of his toys. Georgiana was relieved that Nanny was able to decipher Master Albert’s wails; she presented him with a small, stuffed teddy bear – Humphrey, if Georgiana remembered the bear’s name correctly – and little Albert began cradling his toy. “If not for me, for our children, please, Albert? They’re insisting we all go up to the Boat Deck; they won’t let us remain below. You heard the stewards as well as I. They’re going to usher us up and lock the doors so that no one will be able to return to their suite.” Georgiana noticed that her mother didn’t add that it was mostly because the first-class passengers would refuse to leave their rooms if they thought there was a chance someone could steal their prized possessions that weren’t, currently, with the purser. Georgiana was not quite sure what valuables her parents currently had, but Georgiana had over £18,000 of jewellery in both her room and at the purser’s. Her wardrobe included several one-of-a-kind pieces, making them priceless. William had at least $3000 American notes, for when they were to arrive in New York on Wednesday, and at least £2,500 in pounds.
Albert and Eleonora likely had as much, if not more.
Master Albert, whose eyes were still red from his tantrum, ran to his grandmother’s side, clutching her hip. “Oh, Albie darling, what’s the matter?” Eleonora cooed, rushing to her grandson’s aid, picking him up. He sniffled loudly before resting his head in his grandmother’s shoulder.
The Light in the Darkness 2 Page 8