The dealer’s eyes narrowed, “Certainly gentlemen, Mr. Grimshaw has raised the stakes to fifteen hundred, might I suggest he is requested to withdraw his stake and we declare with three players?”
“Agreed,” Sir George said, “seems most fair. I have my family on board and must attend to their needs.”
Grimshaw nodded, “Agreed.”
“I don’t see why we should quit. The game was beginning to get interesting,” the young man said.
“You’re out voted, young sir, now let’s see what you’ve got, eh?” Sir George grinned, “I have a royal flush.” He threw his cards onto the table. “Can you beat that?”
The young man shifted nervously in his seat, “Very well, three nines.”
Grimshaw couldn’t stop the smile hovering at the corners of his mouth widening into a broad grin. Obviously, there hadn’t been time for the dealer to slip him the fourth nine. “I only have two pairs,” he paused to see the young man’s reaction, “two pairs of threes.” And he placed them one by one onto the table.
“I don’t understand,” the young man protested and glared at the dealer who made no response.
“What don’t you understand?” Grimshaw asked, “that you have lost and I have won?” He didn’t wait for an answer as he drew his winnings towards him, threw a generous tip at the dealer and filled his pockets with his prize money.
The young man jumped to his feet, “You’ve not heard the last of this!”
“Perhaps not,” Grimshaw turned over the top card of the pack left on the table. It was a nine of spades. “My,” he said, “what a surprise? A word of advice, young man, don’t fish in the ocean until you have mastered the pond.”
“I don’t know what you mean?” he spluttered and dashed away.
As he watched him leave Grimshaw noticed the smoking room was empty but for a few gentlemen. He turned back to the cards, spread the pack out fan-shaped on the table and drew one a random – the ace of spades. His heart sank. The card was his black dog.
He finished his whisky and strolled towards the exit. A steward opened the doors for him. “What happening?” he asked the man.
“We’ve been told to direct passengers to the Boat Deck,” he replied, “the women and children are being loaded into the life-boats.”
“Then it’s serious?”
“Only a precaution, sir, I’m sure we’ll be quite safe.”
Grimshaw nodded as he passed through the opened door. Outwardly he kept a calm demeanour inwardly he feared the worst, as if a heavy cloud had descended upon him. He climbed the stairs and emerged on the Boat Deck. The cold air made him shudder. His evening dress was hardly suitable attire outside. He glanced over the ship’s rail and thought how unusually flat the Atlantic Ocean was as it reflected Titanic’s lights. He looked to the ship’s bow. The ship was listing. He shuddered again and decided to return to his stateroom to put on warm clothing and collect his life-preserver, as ordered.
“I’m sure all will be well,” his steward said as he opened the stateroom door for him.
Grimshaw didn’t share the man’s optimism. He had sailed the seas for years, plying his trade at the gaming tables and he had never been shipwrecked. Perhaps tonight his luck had finally run its course.
When he emerged on the Boat Deck for the second time, the area was full of people, some pushing forwards, some moaning, small groups stood together waiting for further instructions from the officers. There were a few people he recognised, but he never made a point of socialising during one of his business trips. He considered it bad form when he was taking their money. As the ship listed further he had difficulty making his way to the life-boats.
He reached one and found an officer was in charge and a cordon of crewmen drawn up around the boat.“Women and children only,” the officer shouted.
Grimshaw stood back, he drew out his pocket book and writing in pencil scribbled down the address of his sister in Blackheath. On the back of the note he wrote a number and three letters. You’ll need this, Sis, he wrote, present this number at Coutts and make sure Johnnie gets a good education.
It made him feel better, he folded the note in half and stopped a lady moving towards the life-boat. “Excuse me, madam, but would you post this to my sister, I’ve put her name and address on it.”
The lady looked up at him strangely. Then another younger woman, possibly her daughter, took the note and taking the older woman’s arm said, “Of course we will.”
He watched them board the life-boat and waited until they were safely lowered away. “Good God!” he cried as the water began to cover the ship’s bow.
More people flooded onto the Boat Deck, this time passengers from the lower decks, possibly second and third class men, women and children. People screamed, shouted, pistol shots rang out and panic-stricken the throng of people streamed to the stern of the ship. “The life-boats,” he heard a man cry, “they’ve all gone!”
In that moment he realised by sailing on Titanic’s maiden voyage he had been dealt a bad hand.
My Own Darling Ted Love Lizzie
The Royal, Park Lane, Monday, April 8th 1912
My own darling Ted
Although it is only a day since we parted, each hour seems like days. I have so wished you were here. Is there any chance that you’ll be able to come to Southampton to see us sail? In all the excitement I can’t remember if I told you that Mr. and Mrs Parker will take the boat train from Waterloo. I don’t suppose you could see me off? I know you can’t get away too easily, especially if Sir Andrew needs you.
I’m still wearing your ring. I was so excited that I couldn’t take it off, even when I went to bed last night and dreamt of you, my darling. I shall think of you every time I look down at my hand. Mrs. P says she is delighted for me, but wonders where she will find another maid as good as me. I think it was her way of being kind. “I’m very pleased for you Lavell,” she said, “but I do hope the wedding’s not too soon.”
I did my best to persuade her we couldn’t wed until you had saved enough for your fare and joined us in Quebec. “So, your fiancé hopes to come to Canada, I am glad of it. And he’s a chauffeur?”
“And a motor mechanic,” I said quickly, “Ted, I mean Mr. Barton, hopes to set himself up in business with his own garage.” Oh, Ted, you can’t imagine what pleasure it gives me to think about our life together. I love you, my darling and if I could have just one more glimpse of your handsome face before I leave on Wednesday, you will make the happiest woman in the world even happier, if that’s possible.
Yours ever, Lizzie
Southampton Boat Train, Wednesday, April 10th 1912
My own darling Ted
Thank you, thank you...a thousand times thank you! I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw you standing on the platform. Of course, I’d looked around for you, just in the faint hope you could get away. And there you were!
I wish I could have run to your arms, kissed you and told you how much you meant to me. But just to see you, waving at me, blowing me your kisses – I swear I caught every one of them. I am writing this brief note as we journey to the coast, so forgive my hand if my letters are a little shaky. I was so overcome when the train steamed out of Waterloo, I stuck my head out of the window until I couldn’t see you anymore.
And now we are waiting to embark on the new ship. I have heard a lot about the Titanic. Mr. and Mrs Parker have talked of little else, although I’m sure she can’t be much different from the Olympic, as they are supposed to be sister ships. We had a very comfortable crossing on her when we came over despite it being the middle of February. Now the spring has arrived, I’m hoping we shall enjoy good weather and calm seas for our crossing.
Sorry, must go, they are calling for us to embark. I’ll write from the ship.
All my love always, Lizzie
On board R.M. S. “TITANIC”
April 10th 1912
My own darling Ted
Thanks again for coming to Waterloo – I can’t i
magine how you managed to get away at 9.30 in the morning. But I won’t ask, just in case you had to make something up for Sir Andrew. You wouldn’t believe the crowd that was on the dock to see the new ship leave. Of course Mr. and Mrs Parker knew it was to be Titanic’s maiden voyage but I doubt if they anticipated the send off.
No doubt you read in the papers about the near collision, apparently some of the cables were torn out and the ship needed a bit of careful manoeuvring. Captain Smith had the situation well in hand and disaster was avoided. I was wrong about the ship being like Olympic, oh, I don’t mean in size and overall appearance. As to those, she is very much the same but you can’t imagine how luxurious she is. I would love you to see the extravagance of her and explore her many decks with me. I met a steward, who had been in service with me several years ago in New York. He insisted on showing me around the First-Class accommodation. Some of the staterooms won’t be occupied until we reach Cherbourg. He said there were several famous passengers coming on board, some very rich people by all accounts. Anyway, he took me into a suite of rooms that cost forty-thousand dollars! I’m not sure how much that is in English pounds but it certainly seems a great expense to me. Mr. and Mrs Parker’s stateroom is very smart, I have a small room to myself and Jenkins (remember he’s Mr. Parker’s valet?) he’s sharing with another servant further along the corridor.
I can’t believe that I’ve visited the old mother country and found myself a wonderful man like you. Now I’m on my way back to America. Mr. Parker has further business there before we go up to Bar Harbor for a few weeks vacation, then finally back to Quebec for the summer. I have been so happy with you, my darling and yearn to be with you again. The time we are apart seems endless but I will bear it because I know a happy day will dawn when I shall have another ring on my finger...for now I kiss your ring and think of you.
If I have time before we reach Queenstown, I will drop you a postcard. They have some lovely colored ones on board of the ship and the White Star pennant.
God bless you my love, Lizzie
TUCK’S POSTCARD
Queenstown, April 11th 1912
D.T., Had a very smooth night, sea is calm, weather clear. Expect to see the Irish coast in an hour. Last chance to catch post.
Love Lizzie
POST OFFICE TELEGRAPHS
R.M.S. Carpathia April 17th 1912
To: Barton, Roselea, Richmond
Safe
Lizzie
ROYAL MAIL STEAMSHIP “CARPATHIA”
April 18 1912
My own darling Ted
I’m sure you have been filled with worry about your loved one aboard Titanic. A great disaster has befallen us all. I fear a great number are lost. I wired as soon as I could. Captain Rostron insisted only passengers wiring loved ones could use the Marconi Service, but they were charging a fearful price – a dollar a word! I only have the clothes I stand up in and my ring...I’d never part with it, even if the sea had taken me, I’d still have had your token of love on my finger. I love you Ted and can’t wait to see you again.
A kind lady, a Carpathian passenger, has lent me a few things to wear. She also provided the dollar for the Marconigram I sent you. I’m safe and sound now, we’ve even been given a small cabin, and we have to share, but we are grateful. Mrs. Parker is with me, but Mr. Parker and Jenkins, I fear they are lost. Ugly rumours have started to spread throughout our rescue ship. They say all the lifeboats have been recovered, but there are so many women looking for their husbands and there is very little hope that any of them have been saved.
Captain Rostron has urged us all to write down our own accounts, paper, pen and ink has been provided. I have begun my account, but Mrs. Parker is too upset to even pick up a pen. We hope to land in New York tonight or early tomorrow morning. It will be a blessing to feel land beneath my feet for we have all suffered terribly.
I will mail this letter directly I arrive in New York if I can. I do not know where we will go, I suspect the vacation to Bar Harbor will be cancelled. My hope is that we return home to Quebec. How I do wish you were over here with me.
With my greatest love, I will always be yours, I love you, Lizzie
POSTSCRIPT:
Certificate of Marriage: Quebec, Canada, December 4 1912
Edward Barton 36 Bachelor
Elizabeth Lavell 32 Spinster
Trapped!
“Captain to the bridge.”
It was cold, so cold every step I took towards the command centre was a struggle. “Report,” I demanded, scanning the instrument panels.
“Trapped in ice-field and drifting,” confirmed First Officer Klar, “Unidentified object dead ahead.”
“Action Stations,” I ordered, frustrated by the loss of manoeuvrability of my vessel. The impact sent shock waves resounding through the superstructure, followed by deep grinding noises as the object slid away. “Damage report.”
Klar looked anxious. He was young and inexperienced, like the rest of my makeshift crew.
“Don’t just stand there,” I bellowed, “Find out!”
“Aye, aye, sir,” he uttered scurrying away.
Sinking into my captain’s chair, I was surprised to find my body temperature beginning to rise. For three months we’d been trapped by ice, unable to break free and we were lost. Each day I hoped we’d reach warmer waters and escape our ice prison, but so far we hadn’t. Low on food, fuel almost exhausted, we were down to reserves, and time was running out.
“Several crew in shock,” reported Klar’s monotone voice over the intercom. “No structural damage.”
“Status Lieutenant Sora?”
“Sir,” replied my science officer rather excitedly, “we’re free!”
“Confirm visual,” I demanded.
“Ocean surface on screen,” she responded.
“What the-” The sight of another vessel rendered me speechless. Its huge hull silhouetted against a bright moonlit sky. Yellow light was streaming from her many portholes and reflecting on the calm ocean. Like us, the gigantic ship was dead in the water. “Sora, you reported no intelligent life form in this solar system.”
“My sensors detected no beings,” she replied. “This planet’s atmosphere is lethal and the seas are toxic.”
“To us, but look for yourself. Maximum magnification.”
The enlarged picture revealed a hive of activity. Small two-legged creatures were running rapidly along the flat surfaces of the vessel. Somehow they were absorbing the planet’s atmospheric gas and emitting it in vapour from their mouths. Some appeared to be communicating with each other, whilst others stood clinging together in groups. Still more of them emerged from inside the ship, swelling the crowds on the upper decks, whilst white vapour rose from three of the ship’s funnels.
“Report verbally,” I ordered.
“L...Living beings,” Sora began nervously. “Unknown species. Possibly using constituents of the planet’s atmosphere in their life cycle.”
“Sir,” interrupted First Officer Klar returning to his station. “Alien vessel is taking on vast quantities of water.”
“Fuel supplies?” suggested Sora.
I shook my head in despair. “Even my aged eyes can detect they’re using some primitive form of combustion to propel themselves across the surface of the ocean,” I explained. “They collided with the ice, fortunately freeing us, but holing them.”
“I’ve got a signal,” she offered, “but it’s encoded.”
“Then decipher it.”
“I’m trying to, sir,” she pleaded. “Short and long bleeps. Routing to computer, now.”
“Captain,” called Klar pointing to the screen. “Look, they’re launching small boats.”
I watched as they struggled to winch the flimsy open-topped craft down the sides of the large vessel, wondering if they had enough boats for all the creatures.
“It’s a distress call,” cried Sora, handing me a hastily scribbled note.
I scanned it quickly: CQD MGY have str
uck iceberg. We are badly damaged. “Have any other vessels responded?”
“Some have,” she replied anxiously, “but they don’t believe the ship’s in trouble.”
“Keeping monitoring all communications. Klar get on scanners. Find those other ships. We might be able to boost their signals.”
It was all I could do. Maintaining a silent vigil, we watched the huge hull descend deeper into the ocean. I thought of her captain in his crippled ship, like me fighting for survival.
“Several vessels are in the vicinity,” Klar announced.
“Are they answering Sora?”
“The code is hard to read,” she replied, “one is coming in four hours.”
“They’re firing rockets,” cried Klar, “surely they can’t have spotted us?”
“I doubt it,” I answered, “and what if they have? We can’t do anything except watch them die.”
“Captain, you can’t blame yourself for their loss.”
“We’re here, aren’t we?”
“But sir, we weren’t under power when they struck us. We were drifting. We still are.” His tone was charged with accusation.
“I’m fully aware of the status of my own vessel,” I replied.
“No disrespect intended sir, but they collided with us and-”
“Correction,” I snapped, “they rammed an iceberg which had trapped us when we crash landed on this frozen wasteland of a planet. We owe our freedom to that ship and her captain.” Still seething, I turned towards the communications console, “Sora, what are they saying?”
“Signal’s growing weaker. I can hardly make it out. SOS. We are RMS… Sorry Sir, I can’t decipher the next word. There’s more…Engine room full up to boilers... That’s all. It’s gone.”
Titanic Twelve Tales - A Short Story Anthology RMS Titanic Page 5
