As more people appeared and began coming off the ship, the awaiting crowd on the dock began surging forward like a river current, taking Caitlin and Robert with them. A ring of security personnel at the base of the gangway initially was successful at maintaining a modicum of order, but as more passengers appeared it became a totally futile endeavor. They seemed to disappear into the sea of humanity battering them from forward and aft and port and starboard. They became inconsequential and unnecessary trying in vain to execute a task that was contrary to the wishes of the crowds and beyond their capability to execute.
Caitlin and Robert were now quite close to the base of the gangway and to their dismay Cassidy and Dillon were not among the first to descend. Their attention focused on the next group of passengers. They seemed in better condition and completely ambulatory compared to the first to arrive. That encouraged them.
The joy that the rumors of there being many survivors were true was mixed with the despair that possibly their loved ones were not among them. The wait and the anticipation were shattering. They could only endure and try to comfort each other.
As more and more passengers appeared and were smothered in the arms of their loved ones, hope began evaporating. There were some who had no one to greet and comfort them. It was a joyful and an awful scene. Is it possible that these persons had no one who cared about them? The rain, the mist, and the glare of the spot lights made everyone into silhouettes, painted a surreal image, and made it difficult to distinguish the features of passengers in the distance.
But, then as hope of their safe arrival was fading, two figures appeared at the deck rail. They were obviously together and had the correct outline of their loved ones. As they approached, the possibility that the figures were, in fact, Cassidy and Dillon changed to a probability. Then it turned to a certainty. It was they. The feeling was wondrous as they saw Cassidy and Dillon acknowledge them with vigorous waves.
Their daughter and her husband had survived one of the worst maritime disasters in history, apparently unharmed. And, now they were only a few feet away from their reunion with them. In a moment, almost certain tragedy had turned to joy.
There was no speaking, only joyous tears and crushing hugs. They were all getting soaked, but no one seemed to mind or even be aware of that fact. Who knows what happened to the umbrella? No one cared.
The four of them seemed to maneuver in unison as an arachnid scurrying on eight busy legs to escape the clutches of the sea and find the safety of dry land. And, in fact, they were. Their mass was able to move, almost unnoticed, as one body through the waiting crowd of families, the curious, and members of the press still focused on the rescue ship.
Not even a lone, insistent and aggressive reporter hungry for a live-eye-witness account could impede their progress. The poor chap (if one can refer to an aggressive reporter as a “poor chap”) was not even aware how close he came to being trampled that night.
Their focus was singularly forward at full speed, not unlike that of Captain Edward J. Smith of the RMS Titanic several days prior, hopefully without the same disastrous results. But, if they had paused for just a moment and turned, they would have seen that not all of the survivors had disembarked. For some, their ordeal was not nearly complete this rainy night.
Third-class passengers and those in “steerage” who were not yet citizens of the United States where destined for another stop at Ellis Island for immigration processing. They still had many more days or weeks of uncertainty to endure.
Equally, the original Carpathia, passengers were now back to where they were a week before in New York and had to recommence their original voyage to Europe, braving the same ice fields they had navigated twice and the unfriendly North Atlantic Ocean once again for a third time.
The rescue was not without impact upon the passengers of the rescue ship since they witnessed the horror of the mishap and generously participated in the effort to comfort the victims by giving up their cabins, clothes, and provisions as they dispensed copious comfort and assistance to anyone in need.
The sacrifice, bravery, and compassion of Captain Rostron his crew and the passengers of the Carpathia, were acknowledged but not nearly in sufficient measure. They were the manifestation of human kindness and compassion. Each had assured his passage to heaven in the days and nights of this ordeal.
As Lawrence Beesley, one of the survivors of the RMS Titanic described it, "The women on board the Carpathia, were particularly kind. It shows that for every cruelty of nature there is a kindness, for every misfortune there is some goodness.” Certainly, Cassidy and Dillon were in the company of the most fortunate recipients of this kindness and goodness. They owed their well-being to these remarkable persons – truly caring strangers passing in the night.
Cassidy and Dillon’s only remaining possessions were the clothes they donned which were a mixture of tattered salvaged vestments and those generously donated or even sewn together by the women on the Carpathia. It was an act of goodwill and kindness from kind souls they never met and would never meet again. There was much for which to be thankful among the cataclysm, death, and misfortune.
Their vogue was not exactly one of high society fashion but more compatible with the bohemian flavor of where they would spend the night in the “Village.” They appeared and were exhausted from their ordeal, but so miraculously they were together, alive, well, and back on solid ground safe from harm.
Thanks to Caitlin and Robert, their children’s ordeal would be over only a short walking distance away at the Strand Hotel. Most of the survivors disembarking would not have such good fortune.
Cassidy and Dillon had taken a voyage like no other, that only a few ever did and lived to tell about it. How ironic it would be that a number of years later the movie, “A Night to Remember” would be made about their terrible experience. If anyone would have asked Cassidy and Dillon they probably would have preferred the title, “A Night to Forget.” But, obviously no one would ask.
I tried my best to make the three stories of this trilogy as intriguing and interesting as I was capable of doing. I truly hope I was successful. But, you must decide. There are literally hundreds of books about the sinking. Unlike them, the event in this book was used as a backdrop for another story entirely that has nothing to do with the Titanic sinking.
However, the tales were fiction, well; fiction interspersed with a smattering of history, at least as nearly as my under-informed mind understood it and could intertwine it with the fictional parts of the tale. The words and the stories went from my mind to the printed page and from the printed page to your mind.
Actually, I made a gross error. The thoughts went from my mind to a tiny computer chip and from another tiny computer chip to your mind. Along the way, a load of technology was used to bridge that huge gap between our two minds. In reality, it is quite extraordinary, don’t you think? Twenty-eight of the downloads of my writings were from ten different countries. It is truly humbling.
My ancient mind is still stuck in the last generation. I marvel at it all, even though I understand very little of it. In reality, that is the marvel of it – to not understand it, but still be able to make constructive use of it all. Thank you, my dear “techies.” But, why does it all “crash” so much?
The stories are over, but don’t leave yet. Please? This is about to get a little heavy. I know, nothing is ever “free.” This is my purpose to which all the books in this series lead. It is not fiction. I wish it were.
Rarely in life do real affairs of life play out like fairy tales. I am sorry to inform you that even though the RMS Titanic did exist and really did sink with great loss of life, Caitlin and Robert never existed. But, if their romance and marriage does intrigue you, there were actually thirteen newly wed couples on the Titanic, some of whom survived. Along with women and children, during the calamity it was announced that newly weds could mount the lifeboats first as well.
If you wish to pursue
their stories you can find them in “Titanic Love Stories,” written by Gill Paul, available on Amazon.
I enjoy fiction. We all seem to enjoy fiction. Fiction is everywhere, not just in books. Many times fiction consumes a large portion of the “news.” Sometimes it consumes all the news of the day. This was clearly evidenced by the aftermath of the sinking of the RMS Titanic. Regretfully, fiction seems to have worked its way into a considerable portion of “history” and yes, even what is peddled as, “news.”
Whether the story is told by word of mouth, through a printed book, an e-book such as this one, television, or a movie, fiction takes us to places that we may never visit, that don’t exist, or cannot ever exist. It introduces us to experiences we may never have or can’t possibly have. I guess that is why we are drawn to it so much. For a moment, an hour, a day, or sadly, a lifetime we can avoid the unpleasantness of reality and escape the troubles of our tortured existence.
As our technology advances logarithmically, the fiction reaches greater and greater levels of realism. Eventually, I am sure it will reach the level of complete escapism. Seeing the latest three dimensional rendition of RMS Titanic is as close to being there as any of us would want to be. The only thing that is different is you get to go home afterwards, completely dry without lungs filled with sea water, and without frostbite.
The line between what is real and what is not is blurring at a faster and faster rate. Add mind altering drugs and mental instability and it appears we have already crossed that line into daily fantasy for many people, too many people.
The size of the group that crosses that line will become greater as time advances. The danger, of course, is what happens when the majority of our society participates in that escapism? What happens when what used to be entertainment becomes “reality” for so many? And, worse yet, what happens when the powers that be manipulate that “reality” for their own goals, whatever those goals may be? Will they be our goals or theirs?
Most certainly they will be their goals. Few in power have ever had the restraint and the self-control or been so benevolent to put the goals of the masses above their own pursuits. That will not change.
Will we even have goals beyond self-gratification? Certainly, we will not. Affluent societies throughout the ages have proven that they indulge in “self” to the point of the destruction of those less fortunate and eventually themselves and their entire societies. We are there now. We are at the “fall” stage of the “rise and fall” of major societies. It is nothing new. Mankind seems incapable of recognizing and avoiding this vicious cycle.
Today we are so intent on categorizing everything and everybody. Everything is classified as black or white. There is no in between, no gray area. It is no different in the world of literature. A manuscript is defined most certainly as fiction or non-fiction. This Trilogy is some of both. If you read Part I and Part II and the first part of Part III, you completed the fiction parts.
But, now I am afraid we are back to terra firma, back to Earth, back to reality. I am so sorry. I sincerely hope you landed softly and didn’t get hurt. I had no intention of deceiving you. Yet, I needed to get your attention. If you got this far, I succeeded. Now, I hope I can keep your attention as well as your trust. Find your favorite chair and your favorite beverage, turn off the TV, turn on a good reading light, take a pee, get your glasses, and get comfortable. This may take a while, and it won’t be pretty.
Why did I want so intently to get your attention? Quite frankly, I did it to try to help save you and your loved ones. “Save me and my loved ones from what?” you may ask.
It was not to aggrandize myself or to enrich myself. It would seem to be a strange way of enriching oneself giving away books for free - strange indeed. You have gone through a great deal of trouble to get us here. Now what?
While the characters of Caitlin and Robert were fictional, they were not unlike most real-life, conscientious, sincere, and good parents. They wanted the best for their progeny. Almost nothing else was more important to them.
They put their daughter’s needs above their own and did everything they could possibly do to further her development and make the best life for her that they could within their capabilities. They spared no effort and no expense to achieve that goal. Their intentions and their actions were beyond reproach, not unlike millions of other parents, past and present and most likely into the future.
Everything they did, every endeavor, every crusade was carefully planned for the benefit of their child. They were not unique in this quest, but they executed the task with uncommon skill, diligence, and vigor beyond the average couple.
But, as we saw, one overlooked item, one contingency, one unintended consequence of one act almost negated all the effort that proceeded. Such is the case in the reality of life. How does it go? “Sometimes, we can’t see the forest for the trees.” Did I say “sometimes?” “Most times,” might be more accurate.
We perform our duties to our precious children with exemplary effort. We become informed and weigh every decision as best we can. Nothing goes unnoticed in the microcosm of our little family world and the limited environment in which we choose to circulate. But, what about the macrocosm of our world; are we as diligent about its effect on our lives and our loved ones? No we are not.
Ask the average person about politics – the answer: “Oh, I am not interested in politics.” “Politicians are all the same, they are all crooks.” That may be so, but it would appear that if all politicians are crooks, might it be more of a reason to be concerned. If the person that is controlling a large part of your life, your future, and your children’s future is a crook or worse, shouldn’t that interest you immensely?
Caitlin and Robert lived in their immediate world. They were uninformed and misinformed of the all encompassing danger that almost took Cassidy’s life and negated two decades of love and concern for her. They missed the big picture, the macrocosm.
Could they have foreseen the forces that almost took her life? – the defective rivets, possibly the flawed design of the bulkheads stopping below deck, the brittle steel, the dismissals of numerous reports of ice floes, the recklessness of sailing full speed, the experienced, but complacent captain, lookouts without binoculars, the rules not requiring lifeboats sufficient for all on board, and most of all the arrogant claim by the owners that the ship was unsinkable? If the best minds of the era could not anticipate this perfect storm, how could they? They could not; but look at the dire consequences.
Today, my dear readers you may believe that we are standing on familiar, stable ground, but, in fact, we are standing on the deck of the RMS Titanic.
We certainly are. Few know it, even fewer will acknowledge it. We have the same fatal arrogance that our ship cannot sink. This is fact. But, unlike the hidden and complex factors that caused the demise of the RMS Titanic, the factors of our demise are not hidden. They are in plain sight, as they say. They are screaming for us to notice, for us to wake up, and for us to take action. Some are sounding the alarm, but are we listening? More importantly, are we acting? We are doing neither.
We have been blessed with abundance and good fortune from God and our predecessors unlike any ship in history. Yet, we are sailing through troubled waters. Our ship has been hijacked by evil and skilled pirates intent on sinking it. We are wrapped in our distractions, illusions, and self-gratification as never before. We are blind. We have blinded ourselves and our children. Stop reading, delete this file, and walk away at your own peril.
Look, my dear friends, I took the time and anguished over writing these three books, not for my aggrandizement, but for your benefit. When has a complete stranger ever been that concerned for you and your family? You paid nothing for the books, and I am not selling anything but a sincere wish that you save yourselves and those you love. I can alert you, but I cannot do it for you. And shame on you if you refuse to do it for yourselves. Sham
e on you if you will not do it for those you love! If I have such concern for you, whom I do not know, then you should have the humanity to listen.
But, here we are in this macrocosm of the angry sea in a defective ship with incompetent, no worse, much worse, malevolent but competent leadership. Yes, competent. They know exactly what they are doing and they are skilled at it. We were cruising along, saw some danger, took evasive maneuvers, but still hit the iceberg of the evil in the world and its complicit interlopers among us, leading us to our own demise.
We cannot hold Caitlin and Robert at fault for what was impossible for them to see. But, we can hold ourselves at fault for ignoring the obvious. For while we self-indulged and participated in our own distraction and misdirection, we have allowed our captain along with his complicit crew to sail knowingly and arrogantly full steam ahead into a sea filled with death, destruction, and suffering. Is this an exaggeration? You are so wrong if you think that.
All the time, as we are comfortable in our own ignorance, the captain is expressing lies, deceptions, contradictions and preposterous declarations and actions the evil of which could be discerned by a child. Open your eyes and your minds and see.
The head of the UN Human Rights council this week praised ISIS for its outstanding ethnic diversity. The POTUS this week declared Yemen a model of Middle East success despite the fact that it no longer exists amongst the rubble of destruction and human carnage. And, immersed in similarly daily insane and inane declarations we Americans give a collective colossal yawn.
A Voyage Interrupted Page 2