The Light in the Darkness 2

by Carla Louise Robinson

  Cecilia wrapped her arms around her body, shivering; she should have told her sister the ship was doomed, that reaching a lifeboat meant the difference between living and dying. She should have told William, so he would have forced her in; perhaps if he’d lifted her, she would not have fallen.

  If she hadn’t fallen, she would be sitting beside Cecilia, instead of being surrounded by strangers.

  Locusts filled the air, and Cecilia prayed to God that one of them wasn’t her sister.

  Cecilia knew that she could survive the loss of Henry.

  She could survive the loss of Papa.

  She could not survive the loss of her sister.

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  Monday, April 15th, 1912

  George

  George, after being denied entry to a lifeboat, had walked into the Smoking Room. George wasn’t sure why he’d chosen the saloon, as it wasn’t even a favourite of his. He did not care for brandy and cigars, the way most gentlemen did. He found cigar smoke noxious, and he despised the taste of brandy.

  He did not even care for scotch, though it was a fact that he had never been able to admit to anyone, not even Eliana.

  Eliana.

  Perhaps that was why George was here, in the Smoking Room; he could be as far away from her as humanly possible. As soon as that thought entered George’s mind, he knew it was not true. He was angry with Eliana, that was for sure and certain, but he loved her more than anyone. He loved her when she resembled a banshee; he loved her when she mourned for their children, unable to pry herself from her melancholy; he loved her when she gained weight; he loved her when she selfishly declared her hatred for one thing or another.

  The thing was, Eliana was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Everyone fawned over Georgiana, and even at times Cecilia, her innocence delighting people from far and wide, but George felt them fools.

  Eliana had small, thin lips that curved into a wide grin whenever she was playful; her dark, brown hair fell in layers around her face when they were alone, a feature he loved more than anything else about her; dark, startling brown eyes that looked as if they had lived a hundred years or more. She was thinner than her sisters, but he liked the waif look she naturally sported.

  No, George loved all of Eliana’s faults because to love her without her faults was to not truly love her. He had learnt that she drank wine to numb her pain, but she could not quite handle her alcohol. Eliana seldom meant to be as cruel as she was, and many of her comments, however harsh, were borne out of some misguided concern. At times, her comments were secreted in pure jealousy, but on nights alone, when she opened up to him, he would hear how she loathed herself for it. Sometimes, she would cry, asking him what was wrong with her, how she could be so cold and heinous.

  George was about to leave – not that he had decided where to go, but the eerie cheeriness of men gambling, drinking, declaring that they would “Go down as gentlemen” and drink til their last, unnerved him so – when a familiar voice caught his ear.

  “George,” Albert called. “George, over here.” Albert was already ordering a drink – a Cognac, apparently, which appeared to be what Albert and his valet were having – and George wondered if now was the time to inform Albert how little he cared for alcohol and cigars.

  Instead, George took the drink, downing it in one swirl.

  He needed to find himself some courage, or how was he supposed to make it into any lifeboat when the time came?

  “You know, don’t you?” Albert asked, his shoulders hunched in defeat.

  “That the ship’s sinking? Yeah,” George replied. “I asked around. Andrews told more than a few people. Most think he was joking, and a few called him a ‘tight old codger’, but I knew he would not say something so dire without being certain.”

  Albert nodded. “When Andrews first told me, I was sure he was right, but I figured we had time. It wasn’t until I spoke with Ismay I realised how little. And Cecilia’s … Cecilia’s missing.” There was an unspoken waiver in Albert’s voice.

  George tried not to think what it would be like if he knew that the ship was sinking, and Master Albert or Lady Primrose went missing. He wouldn’t be drowning his sorrows, that was for sure and certain.

  “I know,” George snapped. “I was there.”

  Albert looked at him, a strange look filling his lined faced. “You think I don’t care that Celia’s missing, don’t you? Don’t you, George?”

  “I didn’t say that,” George replied, not meeting Albert’s eyes.

  “You didn’t have to,” Albert retorted. “I’m here because I care.”

  George nodded. He didn’t agree, but he wasn’t about to make Albert’s – or his – final moments worse than whatever lay before him. George looked around at how so many men were well-dressed. What secrets did they know that George didn’t? Why were they so terribly calm, when George’s hands could not stop shaking? He raised his hand to the bar keep, asking for another drink, which he hastily swallowed.

  With any luck, he’d become drunk as a whore and not know what was happening.

  “I know Celia’s missing because of me,” Albert whispered; George almost jumped with surprise. “Do you think I’m a fool? Of course she’s off with that photographer. But what if she’s around, and she’s too afraid to come forward because I’m there? What if she’s waiting for me to disappear, afraid that I’ll yell at her for displeasing me?” Albert heaved a sigh. “I decided to leave. Georgiana will be away from the Titanic by now; they’re not sparing any time. Lifeboats are barely staying in their davits longer than a few minutes. William’s a good lad, he’ll have forced her in. And hopefully, now that I’ve left, Cecilia will find it safe to enter a lifeboat, if she hasn’t done so already. God, I hope she’s already on a lifeboat, and I’m worrying about nothing.”

  George opened and closed his mouth. Everything that was coming to his mind wasn’t appropriate to say; he didn’t realise Albert had such deep feelings for his daughters. It was silly, George supposed, but Albert treated his daughters as commodities, and seldom as humans. He knew Albert’s strict rules and traditions had shaped some of Eliana’s neuroses. One didn’t have to be a scientist of the mind to realise that.

  “Hopefully you’re right,” George offered. He didn’t know what else to say. There was truth to Albert’s words – the women didn’t know the dangers they were in. He was by and sure William did, though he could not tell for sure. Cecilia would likely turn up once she thought Albert was gone; she would, of course, wish to deal with his wrath at a later date.

  She would not have any idea that there would be no ‘later date’. That, according to Andrews, the ship did not have long to fare.

  “It’s all I’ve got,” Albert said. “How do you think it feels, sending a wife and one of your three daughters off into the abyss, knowing the other two are trapped on a sinking ship?”

  “I don’t know what it’s like to have one left behind, but I know what it’s like to have them sent out there, into the dark ocean. I can’t see my children, or my wife, anymore, even if I strained my eye.”

  Albert looked George in the eye and swallowed his drink. “Touché.”

  George stood, slapping Albert on the back. “I’m going back to the suite,” he said, surprised at his decision. He had not expected it. He didn’t know why he wanted to go further into the bowels of the ship. When he first stood, he thought he would tell Albert he was going to try again. Perhaps they’d be kinder on him; he’d seen plenty of men board boats, first-class more than any others.

  “The suite?”

  “Yeah,” George said, a bittersweet smile lacing his lips. “I want to be around my wife and children’s stuff. This … this is the end, is it not? I don’t want it to be in here. I want to be lying on my bed, smelling the perfume Eliana will have left upon her pillow. I want to hold my son’s clothes, my daughter’s dresses.”

  Albert nodded, though he didn’t speak. His eyes were trained on the remnants of his bran
dy glass.

  “Good luck, Albert,” George whispered. “And good luck.”

  Chapter Sixty

  Monday, April 14th, 1912

  Henry

  Henry stood at the stern, gripping it tightly. After he had said goodbye to Cecilia, he knew his time would be limited. He could feel the bow moving in a way it hadn’t before; the ship was certainly sinking. Chaos was beginning to fill the boat deck, so Henry had hiked his way to the Orlop Deck, knowing it was the safest point as the water began rushing up toward the Boat Deck.

  Henry thought of Cecilia; he was grateful that she was safe. He did not think it possible, but he had fallen in love with her. When she had said goodbye, he had seen it was not quite love in Cecilia’s eyes, not the way she thought, not the way they both assumed. It was something; a something that likely would have become love, had their situation fostered more, but he could tell that she had faltered. That her thoughts were now with her family, and likely not with him.

  Not that it mattered to Henry. Love didn’t come with strings. You either loved the person as they were, or you couldn’t truly love them. That didn’t make you a bad person – it just meant that the person you loved was not the right person. With the right person, nothing else mattered.

  Of that, Henry was certain.

  Henry looked out; some of the boats weren’t too far away yet; perhaps a hundred yards. From the ship’s position, he doubted she had much longer.

  Henry made the decision to jump, while light was still emitting from the Titanic.

  As his body was crushed by the velocity, something he had not thought to factor in, his last thoughts were of Cecilia’s golden smile.

  Chapter Sixty-Seven

  Monday, April 15th, 1912

  Bride

  Bride could barely remember the tussle the great wave had caused, sending him and the collapsible boat he’d been helping with moments prior, into the ocean. All he could feel was pain, as if a million knives were stabbing him all over, but that was not the worst of it. He had risen from the depths only to be trapped underneath the lifeboat. He could feel the men around him clamouring on board the overturned collapsible, and panic set into his body. His breaths were frantic gasps, and his chest constricted; he did not want to die here, not so close to salvation.

  The men fighting above him forced any air from underneath the lifeboat, pushing Bride back down; his chest ached to breathe, but he forced himself not to. One breath would signal his death, and no one would even notice; his body would forever be cast underneath a lifeboat. He pushed himself with strength he did not know his slight body possessed, and, by the hand of God, managed to surface at the boat’s side. He gasped for air, and rolled onto the side of the lifeboat, his feet dangling in the water, his body soaked. The men were too busy arguing about whether or not they should take on others when Bride had seized his chance; there was room enough for him, though not by much, and he would not give it for any man.

  Shivering, Bride turned to watch the Titanic. He couldn’t quite hear, his ears still drumming and filled with water, but he assumed the ship must’ve exploded; several of the funnels were no longer attached; three of the four had fallen, and he recognised Litghtoller, standing on the top of the lifeboat, oar in hand, trying to stabilise the lifeboat as it rocked precariously, each wave threatening to topple it and the men into the ocean. The stern was rising steadily, but silently; he could not hear the engines, or the boilers, nor the wreck the ship would be emitting; instead, he heard the desperate screams and pleas of the men and women still aboard the ship.

  He listened as the band played Autumn, and he wondered how they could do so, knowing that death was moments away. How on earth they’d stayed standing after the great wave was beyond Bride; he could not believe the strength and willpower the men must have to stand fast. He could hear other men clamouring for help, struggling to be pulled from the water. A crew man’s voice shouted, “Phillip! Phillip, shove him off! Shove him the fuck off!”

  “Don’t!” screamed Lightoller. “Stop, you damn fools! The boat needs to be handled carefully. We need the man’s weight to counterweigh, otherwise we could founder. We almost did when the third funnel collapsed. We can’t risk it again; we need to be prepared for whatever may come.” Bride wondered if it’d been the wave caused by the funnel that had forced him under, instead of the men clamouring beside him.

  The man, who Bride couldn’t see and whose voice he didn’t recognise, threatened, “If any man is fool enough to try and shove me off this boat, by God I will take that man into the ocean with me.” Bride heard light splashing, and he could tell – by the rickety movement of the perilously broken lifeboat – that the men had found room on the small raft, most likely due to the man’s threat than Litghtoller’s plea. The boat sank a little more into the water, though Bride didn’t mind. He already couldn’t bear the screams surrounding him; they felt as if they were coming from every direction. He listened as varying men tried swimming toward the collapsible, and like he was, he watched as many of the men were beaten with oars to ensure they didn’t topple the boat.

  The ship slowly dipped into the ocean, like a duck readying itself to dive, when he felt some poor soul grab onto his legs so tightly he thought the man might crush him. Part of him wanted to put his arms out to the man, but he was weak, and he wasn’t sure he could manage it. He did not have the heart to kick the man away, but a light flickering nearby revealed that it was Jack who was holding onto him. Warmth surged through Bride, and he reached down with strength once more, holding his friend as much out of the water as possible, as the biolumescent ocean tingled underneath him, as if the ocean was lighting the way to doom.

  Chapter Sixty-Eight

  Monday, April 15th, 1912

  Eliana

  Eliana shivered; she’d dressed warmly, prepared for the night’s adventures, unlike her sisters, and yet, her body felt numb beneath her layers of clothes. Her toes felt numb as she tried to move them inside her boots. The Titanic’s lights were still on, though Eliana wished they weren’t. The ship was almost perpendicular now, and Eliana could barely fathom what she saw seeing, though the band was eerily playing Nearer, My God To Thee, as if taunting everyone of what was to come. It didn’t look real, the ship sticking out of the air so. Even though Eliana couldn’t feel her fingers beneath her leather gloves, it felt as if she were merely trapped in a dream, a catatonic state where she was able to see and feel everything, but without the ability to do anything.

  There were more cries now, and shouts; a moment ago, she’d heard shots from a revolver, though she couldn’t see who had fired them or why. Eliana couldn’t see any specific individual anymore; the lifeboat was too far from the Titanic’s side, and had been for some time. They’d been rowing towards the mysterious ship and looked as if they were a half a mile from the Titanic, but if the mysterious ship had ever existed, it was no longer visible to the lifeboat’s occupants.

  Eliana was annoyed to discover how many men – especially crew – were in the lifeboat. It seemed as if the vessel was filled primarily with members of lower classes; she only recognised two people within her lifeboat – one a singer she could not remember the name of, and an acquaintance of her father’s, a stockbroker named Charles something. Why had so many lower-class men felt fit to join the ranks of women, when their own husbands had not? George had not been by Eliana’s side, unable to secure a position against all these commoners. Eliana thought it was unseemly that Captain Smith had allowed such boarding; while she would prefer not to share a boat with men – though having so many provided useful, as she didn’t need to row – if she had to choose, she would have preferred that it was men among her class. There was at least one stoker in the boat with them; his face was black in an almost comical way.

  She looked at her small watch that she carried; it was nearing two-fifteen now. She wondered which lifeboats her husband, father, sisters and brother-in-law had gotten on; while the Titanic was eerily visible, standing almost on it
s end, the other lifeboats were not. The occupants in Eliana’s lifeboat had not been able to find the oil lamps, water and rations that were supposedly fitted with the lifeboats; she had guessed that many of the other boats had been the same. It was dark, almost black, in the water. The lights on the ship suddenly flickered, and Eliana gasped in surprise. The lights on the ships had provided her, and the other passengers, with a sense of security. She wasn’t sure what had happened when the lights first flickered, but there was real screaming now; panicked howls and screams and shouts, feral and ghastly, echoing against the vast emptiness of the ocean. Eliana could not help but stare at the flailing liner.

  The ship’s lights flickered out again, this time for a moment longer; the lights flickered on briefly, before being extinguished forever. Eliana grasped her mother’s hand – she was wearing woollen gloves – as loud cracks sounded through the night.

  “It’s another tunnel,” one of the crew men said knowingly. “Like the first two. Maybe the third and fourth has come down.”

  The stoker shook his head. “Sounds louder than that, as if the ship’s being ripped in two. Only thing I know that can rip a ship in two is a boiler.”

  “The boilers were extinguished,” the man, who’d taken charge by identifying himself as the Quartermaster, interrupted. “It can’t be the boilers.”

  Eliana wondered why they gave a damn. To her it didn’t matter what the cause was, just that she was watching it unfold in front of her very eyes. She tried not to think of the poor souls still trapped onboard the Titanic; the crew and the steerage passengers didn’t deserve such a ghastly end.

  No one did.

  “Mate, boilers don’t extinguish that easy. We shut down the dampers, but they’re still hot for days to come. We had all twenty-nine lit, too. And we didn’t all know it was serious, not until later.”