The Light in the Darkness 2

by Carla Louise Robinson

  Fixing to die? How could he be so bold as to say such a thing?

  Adene pushed against the crowd, forcing herself to section R; more passengers were beginning to fill the stern. She estimated she had been walking – and clutching the corridor – for around fifteen minutes; it would be nearing twelve-thirty. What if Claire and the girls had already been woken? What if the steward had yelled something as unseemly as “Fixing to die”? Claire wouldn’t wish to wait around, if that were the case. Please, God, let here have taken Isla with her. Adene was reasonably sure she would – why would she leave a small girl behind? – but that didn’t make her worry any less.

  Adene breathed a sigh of relief as she finally reached her cabin, pushing the wooden door open.

  “Isla, Claire, Nora, up!” she cried, only to realise they weren’t there.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Monday, April 15th, 1912

  Barrett

  “We need more men!” Hesketh shouted, though the men were more relaxed than they had been previously. They were tasked with a mission, and they were going to see it through. The boiler room, filling steadily with water, was still black; visibility was given only from the open boilers the men were frantically trying to close. Soon, the water would rise and meet the coal lumps, and the men would be able to do no more. Hopefully, the dampers would have been closed for long enough that the boilers wouldn’t explode.

  “And lamps. We can’t see bloody shit down here.” Shepherd grumbled. “Can’t see my hand in front of my fucking face. Get lamps, Fred.”

  “Shep!”

  “It’s true, Harv.”

  “I’ll get the lamps and the men,” Barrett responded. There was only so much, as lead fireman, he could offer the engineers. He knew how to care for the boilers; the engineers needed to assess the ship’s damage and ensure that the power remained running, so that the pumps, when assembled, could do their duty. Fred climbed the emergency escape ladder (there was no other access point now the watertight doors were closed) before taking himself to Scotland Road, to the barracks where the other stokers and firemen would be. If they’re still there.

  Barrett was halfway to the fireman’s quarters when he spotted a lump of them, chattering away, lifebelts on.

  “Barrett?” one asked. “What you doing?”

  “Collecting you lot,” he replied. “I need men. And I need lamps. It’s dark as fuck down there.”

  “Nah, Barrett, there’s water coming in. There was water on the floor, there was. That means it’s come above the plates –”

  “I know what it means,” Barrett responded. “I was down there, when we hit whatever it was we hit. Ice, apparently; not that it matters.”

  “You were down there?” the trimmer’s face was agog.

  “It’s not looking good, lads,” Barrett said. He wasn’t always a good man, nor a kind one, but he was not a liar, and he would not send men below – his or anyone else’s – without them being prepared and aware of what they were facing. “The power’s out, below, the engineers and electricians are working to get it going. But we need to make sure the pressure doesn’t increase, that the boilers don’t explode. We need to pump the water out into the tanks, to ensure the dynamos keep running. I’m not ordering ya, I’m asking ya. We need men. I don’t know what your chances will be above, but I know what everyone’s chances will be if we don’t get the flooding under control.”

  Every man, either with a face of steely resolution or utter defeat, moved toward boiler rooms five and six, determined to try and save the Titanic, and themselves, from an icy grave.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Monday, April 15th, 1912

  Claire

  Claire had no way of telling the time – it felt like hours since Adene had headed toward the bath, and even longer since the ship had shaken, the sound like thunder. The little ones hadn’t stirred at all – tonight, they were sleeping together, holding each other tightly – but Claire was nervously biting her nails.

  Where’s Adene? she wondered. She bit her thumbnail a little lower, causing it to splinter and bleed; the stewards had already been through section R, stirring up the families to “get their lifeboats on”. Claire and Adene’s cabin were next to a large immigrating Swedish family, who spoke no English, though Adene had said their last name was Haas. They hadn’t attempted to move from their cabin, though Claire had noted that they weren’t the only ones. She wasn’t sure if it was the relative safety the ship offered, or the fact that they didn’t speak any English, that was keeping them below.

  Claire wanted to convince herself that it was nothing – this was the Titanic, after all – but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Perhaps she’d lost her optimism when God had felt fit to take all her siblings, but perhaps that’s why He was warning her now.

  Part of her hoped Cillian would turn up at her door, but she couldn’t be sure he’d even be woken yet. The men stayed at the bow, and Cillian’s cabin was a level below, on G deck. Claire wasn’t even entirely sure what section Cillian was confined to – she had not thought to ask. It was inappropriate, unladylike. She wouldn’t even know how to find his section, let alone his cabin number.

  You can’t stay here, the voice repeated. Claire wanted to wait for Adene; she was scarcely seventeen, for the sake of God! She needed someone to help take care of her; she was not yet ready to face the world alone, not when it was suddenly so vast and terrifying.

  Not when the responsibilities were so steep.

  Claire decided she couldn’t wait. Besides the passengers who had felt fit to stay behind, regardless of their reasoning – perhaps they knew ships better than Claire did, or perhaps He hadn’t spoken to them, warning them to run for safety – the quietness of the halls left her feeling unstill and restless. There was no warm hum of the engines to soothe her as she slept.

  It was in that moment Claire made her decision; it didn’t matter where Adene was, as sorry as that was. What mattered was that Claire was responsible for her beloved niece, and while God’s breath filled her body, she would take Isla as her ward. She would not leave her behind, not risk the little girl’s life for anything.

  She turned to the children, sleeping soundly in the bed, before rousing them. “Up! Up! Let’s get up!” she cried, as they yawned, sitting up, rubbing sleeping from their small eyes.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Monday, April 15th, 1912

  Georgiana

  Georgiana woke abruptly, realising her husband – who was certainly not sober, judging by the distillery he was emitting – had stumbled into bed. William wasn’t asleep, nor was he awake. Georgiana shook him repeatedly, suddenly feeling anxious about Jessop’s warning. Every time the clock on the mantlepiece ticked, it sounded ominous, contrasted with the unusual silence that should be replaced with the gentle hum of engines.

  “Is everything alright, Georgie?” he whispered, his voice cloaked with sleep and drink, his throat croaky from the many cigars he had consumed that night. While Georgiana often smoke herself, and she was used to the smell of cigars, she despised it when William came to bed smelling of cigar smoke. It made her eyes water, and frequently made her cough. Sometimes, the smell would become stale and stagnant, making the stench revolting. Right now, she couldn’t help but feel nauseous.

  “I’m not sure,” she murmured, hoping that he could calm her racing heart. Her hands tingled, and despite the chill that had latched onto the room, she felt clammy.

  “What’s wrong?” he repeated, this time sitting up, turning on his light.

  “I – I’m not sure,” Georgiana replied, not sure of where to start. “A few moments ago, Jessop rushed in here –”

  “Really?” he frowned, looking towards the door. “Why on God’s green earth would possess her to do something so obscene? It’s the middle of the night.”

  “It’s not really relevant, William.”

  “Is that why you woke me? I’m tired, Georgie. Can’t this wait until morning
? When I’m sober? And conscious?”

  “No, William, that’s not why I woke you, and I don’t think it can wait til the morning,” she replied, growing impatient. “She came in, and she said the ship had struck ice.”

  Instantly, William’s face relaxed. “So? It’s ice. Ice cannot hurt the ship. Regardless, I was in the Smoking Room when the collision occurred. It was barely noticeable. Some of the Americans even asked for the ice that had fallen onto the Boat Deck to be placed in their drinks, but to be fair, they are American. Americans are quite queer.” He frowned, before continuing. “You heard what the Captain said. Last year, when the Olympic collided with the Hawke, Captain Smith was able to steam the Olympic to port. She was fine. Honestly, it seemed more in jest the whole iceberg thing. It was an exciting tale we’ll be able to regale once we reach New York. Titanic hits an iceberg on her maiden voyage! Imagine! It’ll probably get more attention than the Olympic did.”

  For the first time, Georgiana noted that no one had ever mentioned the fact that Captain Smith was, in fact, responsible for said collision. She wondered how they so easily dodged the fact that Smith’s incapability of handling such an enormous ship was the reason for the Hawke’s collision.

  “Yes, that may be so,” Georgiana replied haughtily, annoyed at her husband’s brush dismissal, “but perhaps you have not noticed that the engines have stopped. Are you sure it’s only something minor? Nellie didn’t seem to think so.”

  William looked around blindly, as if expecting that he would see the engines for himself, but the ship’s engines started again, as if desperate to prove Georgiana wrong. William smiled, kissing his wife gently. “See?” he told her. “There is nothing to worry about. I imagine they saw something and stopped the engines for a spell. Jessop has probably heard fictions from the others; she’s a strong woman, but she has her delicacies. You know she was not fond of this journey. She didn’t want to leave, and she’s been despondent since she’s been separated from her friend, what’s her name. You know, your sister’s old maid.”

  That was true enough; if there was anything Georgiana had come to learn from Eleanor Rigby Jessop was that she was not fond of travelling, and not remotely fond of ships. And she had been despondent since leaving Gresham Manor; she’d been friends with Mary Davies for most of her time at Gresham Manor. While Georgiana cared deeply for her lady’s maid, she had never bothered asking her as to why she was not fond of travelling. After all, it was not Georgiana’s business, and sometimes intimacy and fondness could develop too sharply between a mistress and her servant. Her own sister had been distraught when her own lady’s maid had retired, some years earlier, to marry and have a family. Her sister had been outraged; “This is terribly disappointing,” she’d lamented at the dinner table. “One would think a person would be perfectly content being a lady’s maid, especially to such a fine family. I cannot on earth think as to why she would seek a different life, when she has such a comfortable one here.”

  Georgiana, who had been but thirteen at the time, had countered, stating, “If she wants to marry a man, let her be. She is not indentured to servitude until death.”

  “Well, perhaps they should be!” Eliana had snapped. “I shan’t take on another woman who is younger than forty. I cannot bear to be abandoned again.” But that was Eliana; theatrical and dramatic. She always had been.

  William mistook Georgiana’s silence for reassurance, kissing her delicately on the forehead, then nose, then lips. “See? I told you. We are safe.”

  Georgiana nodded, forcing herself to smile. Despite the hum of the engines, she did not feel safe, though she could not pinpoint why. She had not heard any great crash, nor felt anything that awoke her from her slumber. By and by, had Jessop not woken her, she would still be sleeping peacefully.

  However, just as the ship had sought to prove Georgiana wrong moments earlier, as William’s brown eyes started to flicker closed, it now seemed to want to counter William’s statement that they were no longer safe, as if his promise had laid a curse; the engines stalled again.

  “What if there’s serious damage?” Georgiana asked, her eyes wide, pleading.

  “Georgie, darling, this is the Titanic, not some common man’s ship. We are perfectly safe here. Your father did not show the least bit of concern, and we returned together. In fact, he found the story entertaining.” William rubbed his face and snorted. “Though, I wonder if he’ll feel the same come morning. If we’re delayed, I doubt he’ll be pleased.”

  “My father is seldom pleased.”

  “Exactly. Do you really think delays will help his temperament? Albert wasn’t happy when he lost his squash game with Gracie today. He’s hoping to best him tomorrow. Or today. God, it’s after midnight. Why the hell am I awake, Georgie? Why does any of this matter?”

  Georgiana was about to reply when a knock came at the door.

  “Yes?” called William, annoyance in his voice. Georgiana could tell by his tone he just wanted to be left to sleep, and no longer cared what anyone else thought or wanted. William was perfect in almost every way, except when he was tired, and especially if that exhaustion coincided with alcohol.

  Jessop, among several stewards, entered the room. “We need to get you up the Boat Deck,” one of the stewards said, his voice a strong Cockney. “Please dress warmly, and ensure you wear your lifejackets.”

  Jessop helped Georgiana out of bed, placing a white dressing gown around her. The large silk bow that hung at the front of her ivory night dress stood out brilliantly. “Is it very serious?” Georgiana whispered to her maid. Jessop shrugged in reply.

  “Is that really necessary?” William asked, his tone terse, addressing the room.

  “I’m sorry sir, but I believe it is. It’s Captain’s orders. Everyone’s to go to the Boat Deck. There’ll be a short wait in the gymnasium, though also the first-class reception is open if you’d prefer to wait there. We are hoping to commence the lifeboat procedures at half twelve.”

  “What?” Georgiana cried, confused. She’d had lifeboat drills before, but never like this. And anyway, they rarely got into the lifeboats. Occasionally they’d have passengers in them, but the lifeboats were always tested by the crew. Georgiana didn’t want to have to leave the ship. How many lifeboats are there anyway? If there weren’t enough for everyone, then perhaps she wouldn’t have to leave the ship. As frightened as she was, Georgiana was far more frightened by the idea of getting into a small wooden boat, lowered a hundred feet into the pitch-black ocean, with a wait to return to her safe, warm room. “I don’t want to,” Georgiana whispered to Jessop. Panic was starting to seize her now; she did not feel as if the situation were right.

  “Nonsense,” muttered William, annoyed, but he got up regardless. His valet began helping him dress, and the remaining stewards moved on to other cabins. While William was being seen too, Jessop took a moment to whisper in Georgiana’s ear. “They’re not really launching lifeboats, are they?”

  The steward looked soberly at William. “They are, My Lord. As I said, Captain’s orders. I’m sure it’s not anything to worry about, but we just need everyone prepared. It will be safer, quicker and easier if we remove as many passengers as possible while our engineers work tirelessly to fix the problem.”

  “So there is a problem?” William challenged, raising an eyebrow.

  “I believe so, My Lord, though I don’t know all the pertinent details. I doubt there’s anything for you and Lady Georgiana to fret over, however. I would not find this information fit for your wife’s ears.”

  Georgiana stared ahead as Nellie fastened her lifebelt jacket, placing her brown fur coat over her, pretending she could not overhear the steward’s conversation. She wondered if the man, who had barely sought to whisper, thought she was daft, deaf or dumb. “Lady Cecilia’s already left, My Lady.” Her voice was so quiet William didn’t even turn, though that could have been the drink. His hearing, for whatever reason, always seemed to reduce after he’d had a few too many.
<
br />   Or at least that was what he claimed.

  “Where’s she gone?” Georgiana whispered back, trying not to draw any attention to herself and Jessop. Neither William nor the stupid steward were paying her any mind, however.

  “I’m not sure, My Lady,” Nellie whispered back. “But I think I may have an inkling.”

  “Do you know how long this procedure will go for?” Georgiana heard William ask the man as Nellie fitted her legs with white stockings.

  “I’m not sure, My Lord. I do not think it will take too long; perhaps an hour or two. Likely, we’ll be back on board before breakfast. I imagine the Captain will want us all to have something extra special tomorrow, to commemorate this difficult night.”

  “Did she head to the Boat Deck?” Georgiana hoped her sister had plans to meet Henry on the Boat Deck, perhaps for a midnight walk, though she was certain that would not be the answer Nellie was about to give her.

  “No, My Lady,” Jessop whispered. “She hurried down to Mr Hamilton’s cabin, I believe.”

  “Henry Hamilton? His cabin, you said?”

  “Yes, My Lady.”

  “And pray, why would she do such a thing? Why would my sister court ruin? She can’t be so daft as to go to his room.” Georgiana tried not to shake with rage and fear. If her parents learnt of this … it didn’t bear thinking of. And it wouldn’t just be her sister that was affected; the entire Gresham family would be ruined by such a scandal. Whether her sister merely knocked on Henry’s door or not would be irrelevant; she would no longer be seen as pure, as a virgin.