by catt dahman
She thought he had been drinking; he reeked of alcohol and was out of his wits with apprehension. He was upset, but right now, she would bode no silliness when lives were at stake. “You sit down, and shut up, or I will throw you overboard myself,” she yelled at him.
As Hichen muttered curses, the stoker laughed, “You don’t know who you’re speaking to, Sir. She’s a fine loidy.”
“She is not the commander. I am,” said Hichens who sat down and watched the women and the other men rowing heartily.
“There, he is alive,” one of the women called. They dragged that man aboard and then seven or eight more. The ones they rescued were deathly cold, tired, but alive for now and out of the terrible water.
When one man died from the cold, Hichens said they should toss the body out, “The ship will be comin’ but not for rescue. It will be to get the dead ones.”
Maggie felt every eye turn to her; she was now the commander of the lifeboat.
“Yes, let Molly Brown decide,” Hichens smirked.
“Margaret, Maggie to my friends. And, yes, we shall let him go back to the sea now that he is out of his pain. The ships will gather our dead, and the crew will bury them properly, for we need the room for more survivors.” With respect, the rest gathered the body and gently let it go over the side.
“Mrs. Brown, oh, please, tell me this isn’t real? What can it be? Oil perhaps?”
Maggie looked over to where Mrs. Meyers pointed and blinked her eyes. It seemed a blob of darkness, darker than the water, so ebony in color that it made her head and eyes ache to stare at it and distinguish its color. It floated near the lifeboat, keeping pace, thin but bumpy in texture.
Peuchen watched it, “I don’t think we can perceive its true black color, see.”
“It makes my head throb,” Mrs. Meyers said.
“We try, but our brains can’t comprehend its nature, and that is why our heads and eyes ache so fiercely,” Peuchen explained.
“You think?”
“Absolutely, Mrs. Brown. It is old, isn’t it? Far older than anything we can imagine, and it is here with us. I don’t think it cares much for us.”
“You are all daft,” Hichens said.
Mrs. Meyers gasped, “Oh my, what is it doing?”
Mouths and eyes appeared randomly on the sludge, grimacing, baring teeth, blowing air, glaring, winking and still the thing kept to their port side.
“Communication? A warning?” Peuchen shrugged, “We cannot know for it is too old and foreign to our minds. I wonder how it came here and why?”
“We saw a malevolent being down below when we went to look at the damage and see about Steerage. You wouldn’t believe the things we witnessed,” Maggie said.
“Mrs. Brown, I would. When I went to grab a favorite tie tack in my room, my deck was beginning to flood. In the water, I saw horrid monsters. All of this,” he said as he spread his arms, “is not natural and not an easy situation.”
“What does he mean?” Fred Fleet asked.
“He’s daft,” Hichens said.
“Then what is that thing?” Fleet asked, “we can see it. It’s something of a nightmare, Sir.”
“And what is that?” Peuchen pointed, “Look there.” Just a few yards away, a fin broke the surface.
“That’s a shark. Oh, my God, it is a massive beast. If it comes at us, we will all perish.” Hichens was hysterical. “We must row away, please.”
Maggie stared at the fin. She knew what it was. If it came at them, it would swallow the boat and all of them whole. “He is one that has been watching the ship, at least since earlier tonight. Several saw him, and he broke a porthole when we were below.”
“Fish don’t do that,” Hichens said, but he only said it to be stiff-necked. He was very troubled by the shark.
“I saw him earlier with his ilk. Mr. Hichens, We would appreciate your help. This is no bugaboo, but a dire threat, and we need you to help us,” Maggie said.
“Leave me alone.”
The megaladon had no great interest in this boat, so it swam around, cleaning up the bodies from the water. The ones who were alive could not possibly fight and were gulped down the massive gullet.
When the shark curiously nosed the slime on the water, it suddenly jerked away, black eyes rolling angrily. A spot on its snout steamed and burned; it would leave a scar in his rough skin.
“I think it saved us but that doesn’t mean it cares much for us particularly,” Maggie Brown said, “so let’s row out of here. Ladies, top speed, please. We have got survivors to deliver to a rescue ship. We are no match for a shark.”
“We could be out here for days, drifting, with no water or food and those things stalking us,” Hichens said morbidly.
“Not my boat,” Maggie said.
“Unsinkable Molly Brown,” Hichens said.
She laughed, “Maggie, Maggie Brown.”
“Commander of life boat number six, I have been bested,” Hichens told her.
“Let’s row as far as we can,” Mrs. Meyers said, “I want far away from here. And from all of that.”
“Yes? It is disheartening.”
“So many lost….” Mary Douglas wept.
“But we found so many alive. We have done well, ladies,” Maggie said. “Someone begin a song. We must keep our spirits up, and these men we have saved need positivity.”
One of the younger women began to sing, and others joined in.
None of them referred to the slimy mire that followed them, nor did they speak of the megaladon.
Sadly, later, they talked about those they lost, the sight of the sinking ship, and the dreadful ice field; their spirits were low. Maggie had them sing again and worked to give them hope.
Hichens sang a bawdy sailor song that lifted their moods. Maggie Brown gave him a warm smile for coming around.
She recalled trying to help rescue third class passengers, but there had not been room for them, and the water came up with a huge roar and swallowed them. No. That was not quite right, but it was all like a faint nightmare she could not hold on to. It slipped to her peripheral memory, and she could not see it clearly.
She hoped Jenny and Helen were safe, as well as Mr. Stead, Mr. Cavendar, and the steward, Daniels. Maybe Howard was rescued. He was a sweet young man, only prone to such a vivid imagination.
Not one of them recalled anything more nightmarish than a sea filled with bodies frozen atop pieces of wreckage, floating aimlessly or blue-white people hardly able to moan.
A man’s arms were stuck to a table that he floated on, and when they tried to get him to the boat, the skin from his arms tore away. His fingers broke off like twigs until his hands were like mittens. They let him slip back into the water when they saw his eyes were frozen open, and they hoped the faint groans were from someone else and that he was not still living.
But that was what they remembered: bodies and more bodies in a field of endless bodies that floated alongside trash, broken furnishings, and papers. Those memories were horrible enough.
They had a long, cold night and were the last of the lifeboats to be found and rescued as they had, in fear that they could no longer recall, rowed far away from the area.
Chapter Eleven: Boat Four
Walter Perkis, Quartermaster, looked at the forty people aboard his lifeboat with trepidation. Had two greasers, Scott and Ranger, not climbed down the ropes, called falls, they would have no one to row the boat properly. Mr. Scott had actually fallen the last few feet into the water but gotten out quickly. He described in whispers how terrible the water was to Mr. Perkis.
Maddy Astor watched the water.
As they rowed about the wreckage, they hoped to find survivors. She imagined seeing a well-dressed man, handsome and dashing, who would be clinging to a floating deck chair. With a devilish grin, he would raise his head and laugh, happy to see her. So far, they had pulled the fallen greaser from the water, but not her husband, John Astor.
“Are you comfortable, Mrs. Astor,�
�� Perkis asked. He was very polite and concerned about her welfare. After all, she was an Astor, and if her continued rubbing of her slight bulge of belly was any indication, she was with child: an Astor heir.
“I am fine, thank you.”
He was worried about her pallor.
“Ohhh,” William Richards, only three years old and from the second class, spoke baby talk and wiggled a pudgy finger.
He was pointing at several men in the water whom Perkis called out to. The one farthest away was about two hundred yards starboard and afore of the boat. Perkis ordered anyone who could row to help. Most of the women sat there helplessly, mourning their husbands and shivering.
Perkis wished for more men to help with the rowing. Why had they not loaded more help for him, he wondered.
The Titanic broke into sections. One fell into the dark abyss of the water, and then the second part sank. Men and women, young, old, rich, poor, good, and bad died together. Nothing saved them as they plunged into the sea. Maddy Astor had watched, teary eyed as it happened.
She saw steel bend and snap.
Nothing was indestructible or so strong it could endure anything, at least nothing man-made. What were truly powerful were spirit, honor, sensibility, and constancy.
With a deep breath, Maddy decided she would not fear things any longer; she was strong, and she could endure. She would remain steadfast and give a good account of herself because that was what mattered and it was what she would teach the child she carried.
“Oh, of all the silliness, Ladies.” Maddy Astor shifted and took up an oar, “We have a job to do. Who among us is too prideful to do honest and much-needed work? Did Moses say to God that he was too busy or tired or had too many trials and could not share His word? No. He was responsible. Be not prideful but work alongside me.” It was the most she had ever said at one time, aloud.
Her voice was strong.
To everyone’s shock, she dug in and rowed with renewed energy. Seeing the wealthiest woman from the ship take up an oar encouraged a few of the other women, and they helped, actually showing lighter moods as they worked together. More took on the spirit and took up the oars.
In a second, they pulled in several firemen who had fallen into the water from the boat deck when the ship went down.
Next, there were a greaser and the personal steward named Cunningham, who had gotten all of his charges into life belts and into lifeboats. He stayed on the deck to perish, but several of the men had refused to give up, jumping into the water and swimming to the lifeboats they saw.
“Bloody good deal,” Perkis said, “you have done good, Man.”
The rescued men stared at Maddy Astor who worked as hard as any man and chastised those who would not bend to the work.
Some of the women donated dry, warm clothing to wrap the survivors in. Maddy praised their charity.
“We have room, so let us row among these poor souls to try to find more alive. We would want someone to do this if our husbands might be found,” Maddy Astor ordered. “If we save a man, remember, he may be someone’s beloved husband and a revered father. We would want someone to do the same for our men, and perhaps they shall.”
She was unaware that of the 1,500 left behind, an additional five hundred would be saved in the lifeboats, floating around the bodies. Only fifty survivors would be taken from the icy clutches of the sea as other lifeboats rowed away from the wreckage.
As a woman, a stewardess, was pulled into the boat, Maddy stood, stripped the poor woman, and gave her the fur she had worn. “Is that better now? You are dry, and this will warm you. Some of you, sit close and hold her so she warms herself, please.”
The stewardess knew Maddy Astor and could not believe the woman had wrapped her in a real sable coat. In appreciation and awe, the stewardess could only weep. She thought Mrs. Astor was a saint.
Cunningham, the steward, tipped an imaginary hat, “Mrs. Astor, you amaze me with your generosity and energy.”
“It is what is right. No more and no less. We shall abide.”
They pulled Sam Hemming from the water after he swam hundreds of yards to reach the boat. His feat was miraculous. Even while his teeth chattered uncontrollably, he pointed, and everyone looked.
“A ship. We are saved,” Perkis announced. There, just before them, was an older vessel, a seasoned ship that had seen better days as its wood was sodden and molded, the masts were canted, and the portholes were dirty. It floated in a yellowish mist that wafted right above the water’s surface, and icebergs floated out from it, as if it were releasing them.
“Is she manned or derelict?” Ranger asked.
“I dunno. She looks sea worthy though, and we could ride this out there and wait for help,” Perkis said. He did not add that the ship gave him a chill, and he felt a terrible dread when he looked at it. His job was to ensure passenger safety. It was perhaps safer than the lifeboat.
“Let’s row closer.”
Her masts were broken, and tatters of her dirty sails flapped in the slight breeze. A rope trailed behind the vessel, and it there that the seamen tied the lifeboat and further appraised the sailing vessel.
“I will climb up. Who will join me?” Perkis asked.
Crewmen Breeze, Compton, Smyth, and Everett volunteered. Perkis said they would look around to see how the rest could be brought up easily and that they would be back quickly; however, if they were needed, a call out was all that was needed.
“She looks fine. I wonder why she is here and abandoned?”
They found her lifeboat missing, and all of the navigational instruments were either missing or twisted and ruined. It was so odd that Freeze remarked, “Why would anyone destroy a nice sextant as this?” There was no logbook or papers left aboard.
Compton righted a chair, salt stained and weathered, but in good shape. A vapor lay just aft on the port side, and Compton walked over to pick up a pair of eyeglasses. Wiping the lenses against his chest, he looked them over and found a tiny chip in the glass, but they were unharmed.
Since the boat was loaded and the Titanic had sunk, he had felt a little chilly, but now, he felt downright cold. His bones began to ache. Perhaps the anxiety and work had gotten to him because he was very drained. He could feel his energy pouring out.
“Are you alright, Compton?”
“Yes. I am fine. Just tired.”
Perkis frowned. The man had picked up the glasses and gone pale. What might be wrong, Perkins did not know. They all examined the wood railing and found some deep gauges, but there was nothing to indicate what caused them, and there was no blood in sight.
Besides being empty, the upper deck was strong and in excellent repair. It was dusty and moss-covered in places, but there was nothing a mop and water could not fix.
“I have no idea what might have occurred here, gentlemen,” Perkis said, a little formally. He had Smyth check on those in the boat, and the man reported all was fine. “Compton and Smyth, remain here. Freeze, Everett, and I shall go below. Call if you need us, and we will do the same.”
They found a sturdy oak table and chairs below, as well as berths and a bed for a small child made up neatly with older, dusty, but serviceable linens. It was comfortable and well laid out. The blankets were wool and of decent quality, not fancy but not shabby either.
“Why they have enough supplies for six months or more,” Everett said. “The food is ruined, but there was plenty. Salt, dried beef, vegetable, spices, rum, grains salted pork, hard tack, coffee and tea, a few wheels of cheese, fruit, and wine.”
Freeze found clothing in trunks for both men and women. It was not what wealthy people would wear as everything was years and years out of date, almost something a past generation would have worn, and it was all oft mended, but of good material. All the clothing was neat and clean as well as nicely folded.
On a desk, while they found no papers of importance, they found old books, a trio that had been popular a quarter of a century before. A cup sat on the desk, still half fu
ll of tea.
“It’s dusty, but this was a well-cared for sailing ship,” Freeze said. He was perplexed.
“As if she is from long ago,” Perkis noted, “and I have such an apprehension about her.”
“Look here. Liquor, casks of it, but they are in red oak, not white. That is shameful. It’s all evaporated.”
Everett showed them a box he found, “Maybe we’ve lucked upon treasure?” It was about a perfectly square foot box and made of dark oak that had been polished and waxed until it shown. Eight thin strips of hammered silver bands ran about the box from the hatch, around the back where it was hinged in silver, to the front again. Tiny silver rivets held them in place. In the center on the top, was a jade medallion, cool green, in the shape of a frog. Emeralds, tiny and pale, made a circle about the jade.
There was no lock on the box, and even if it were empty, Everett felt it was worth a great deal of money; he was taking it with him. He lifted the lid and stared inside, his jaw hanging open with surprise.
“What ‘ave you?” Perkis asked as he searched the larder.
“Why, Sir, it’s a…a frog.”
“Carved? Jeweled?”
“Ummm…looking at me and blinking his eyes,” Everett said.
Freeze and Perkins stopped their searches and stared back at the other man. Everett watched the frog, or perhaps it was a toad, flick its tongue.
Then the little creature opened his mouth as if to yawn. But it kept opening, stretching wide and bigger; it was impossible. The mouth of the frog grew as large as a pie. Without a sound, it leaped upwards and with that big, open mouth, latched on to Everett’s face.
His screams were muffled, and he pulled at the frog, slammed into the walls of the sailing ship, and fell to his knees. Freeze and Perkis ran to him, and both pulled on the slimy, disgusting thing that attached itself to the man’s face. All three rolled about the floor, but could not dislodge the monster.
“It has a mighty grip,” Perkis yelled, “we will get you free.”
Perkis, in desperation, used a hammer he saw to clobber the frog. At first, it did no damage, but then the frog’s skin split open as its back broke. Perkis continued to beat at the frog while Freeze pulled at the frog’s mouth, trying to pry it loose.
