Titanic

by Diane Hoh

  Nola, however, chose to believe. The lines of tension in her face eased, and she expressed annoyance at the inconvenience. “You know I need my sleep, Elizabeth,” she complained as she perched uncertainly on the seat of a mechanical camel. “I’m not the young girl I once was. Not like you. You could go without sleep for days on end and still look fresh and beautiful. But I need my rest if my eyes are not to look like dark, fat pillows in the morning. I must say, they’ve picked a most inconvenient time to take their precautions. And where is your father?”

  When he returned, pressing through the crowd with Max at his side, Elizabeth could tell from the expression on both their faces that the crewman had indeed been mistaken. Her heart sank. Her father’s brow was furrowed, Max’s face a study in concern. Max moved to Elizabeth’s side and took her hand. Martin Farr did the same with his wife.

  “Nola,” he said quietly, calmly, “you are going to have to leave the ship. They’re readying the lifeboats. I would like you to come with me now, so that I may see you and Elizabeth safely off.”

  Elizabeth drew in her breath in alarm. “Safely off?” They had to leave the comfort and warmth of the ship and venture out into that black, icy void? She couldn’t. She couldn’t do it. The thought was simply too terrifying. What would happen to them out there?

  “Oh, heavens, Martin,” her mother responded with a wave of dismissal from her free hand. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying right here where it’s nice and warm.” In spite of the casual tone of her voice, her face had gone very pale. “And what do you mean, see us off? You can’t possibly think I would leave here without you.”

  “Oh, I’ll be along.” He helped her dismount the camel. “Young Whittaker here and I shall follow in another boat.” His tone of voice was as casual as hers, but Elizabeth knew the tone was forced. “But it’s women and children first, Nola. You’ve sailed often enough to know that. The men go last, that’s the way of it.”

  “Martin.” Mrs. Farr stood very straight, her back stiff with resistance, though her voice shook. “I am not leaving this ship without you. That’s final.”

  Her husband’s hazel eyes narrowed. “And what of our daughter? You are not concerned with her welfare?”

  “Of course I am! She’ll be fine right here with me until this silliness is over.” She turned toward Elizabeth and spoke in her sweetest, most persuasive voice, though it was still unsteady. Elizabeth knew that tone well. “You’ll be fine, won’t you, dear? You wouldn’t want to leave the ship without your father, would you?”

  “Darling, please don’t do that,” Elizabeth’s father said sharply. “Don’t force her to align herself with you in such foolish recklessness.” His voice hardened. “You are both getting into lifeboats, and that’s final. I don’t want to hear another word about it. Come along, then.” His voice softened again as he put an arm around his wife’s shoulders and began gently but firmly leading her forward before she could protest further. “I am telling you, dear heart, I shall be along later. You must trust me.”

  As they walked, Max and Elizabeth followed. Her knees felt like warm porridge. Was she really going to have to get into one of those dangling lifeboats? No, she couldn’t. She couldn’t do it. “They say there are ships in the immediate area,” Max told her. “I expect that we’ll be rescued as soon as the lifeboats are in the water. So you needn’t worry about freezing out there, Elizabeth. You won’t be out there long enough to freeze.”

  They had to walk very close together to get through the mass of people milling about on the boat deck. The earlier calmness had dissipated. Realizing the seriousness of the situation, people were chattering loudly, demanding assistance, calling out the names of friends and relatives they’d become separated from, pushing anxiously toward the lifeboats. “Then the Titanic really is in trouble?” Elizabeth asked. “Is it going to sink?”

  He nodded. “Yes, I think so. I know they said it couldn’t, but it looks like they were wrong. I heard someone say just now that we have perhaps no more than two hours, if even that. Your father’s right. You’ve got to get into a boat.”

  Elizabeth fought back tears. “You have to come, too, Max. With us.” She wanted him with her. The thought of leaving him behind on a ship that might be sinking was unbearable.

  He shook his head. “Can’t do that, Elizabeth. I’m not a child, and I’m not a woman. I’ll wait with your father until the boats for the men have been readied. And I’ll catch up with you on whichever ship picks us up. If it’s a really big ship, it may take a while, but we’ll find each other.”

  Just ahead of her, Elizabeth could see the lifeboats being uncovered and lowered slowly on the davits to deck level. The sight stopped the flow of blood in her veins. It was really going to happen. They were all going to have to leave the ship in the pathetically small lifeboats and sail off into that cold, black emptiness out there. And if something happened that prevented them from reboarding the Titanic, they could only hope to be plucked off the water by a rescuing ship.

  What if that didn’t happen? What if there were no ships out there?

  Elizabeth wanted more than anything to be brave and strong, to impress Max with her fortitude. But sheer, raw terror at the sight of the lifeboats being lowered, and the certain knowledge that she was about to be sent off the warm, beautiful ship that still seemed so safe in spite of everything and out into the dark, frigid night without her father and without Max, sent her spinning around to throw herself into his arms and whisper intently, “Oh, Max, I don’t want to leave you here! I’m so frightened!”

  He let her stay there, holding her close, his chin resting on the top of her head. He didn’t tell her she was being silly, that she was a coward, didn’t even try to reassure her. Instead, he whispered back, “I’m afraid, too, Elizabeth.”

  At first she thought she’d heard him wrong. “You? You’re afraid?”

  He laughed ruefully. “Wouldn’t I be stupid not to be afraid? The ship is going down, we know that much now. Anyone who’s not afraid isn’t thinking clearly.”

  And indeed, the people milling around them were pushing more forcefully now, anxious to find a place in the boats. The crewmen stationed near the lifeboats spoke firmly, clearly intent on maintaining order. “Women and children first,” one of them called out emphatically. “Women and children first!”

  Max put his hands on Elizabeth’s elbows and looked directly into her eyes. “Listen, Elizabeth, that last argument we had—”

  She reached up to put a trembling finger over his lips. “Shh! Not now, Max. Please. What’s the difference now? It all seems so silly.”

  “I just want to say…I need to tell you—”

  “Elizabeth!” her father called from a few feet away. “You must come now!”

  Desperation in his eyes, Max said quickly, “Elizabeth, I think I’m in love with you.”

  She had to struggle against tears. Why make it worse for him by crying? She smiled instead. “I think you are, too.” Her smile widened. “But that works out quite well, don’t you think? Because I feel the same way about you.”

  Her father’s voice rang out again. “Elizabeth! Now!”.

  There was time then for only one brief kiss, not nearly long enough, but filled with all of the emotion they couldn’t put into words. When they moved apart, they joined Elizabeth’s parents on the lifeboat line.

  Katie, waiting with the children in hand, had been watching the sad tableau. She recognized the girl in gray as the one with the happy family. The girl who hadn’t wanted to gawk in third class. Katie needed no interpreter to tell her what was happening between the girl and the handsome, sandy-haired young man talking to her. They were saying their good-byes, and it was so clearly painful for both that it brought tears to Katie’s eyes, though she didn’t know either of them.

  She didn’t understand why they were parting. Why wasn’t the young man going with the girl? She was with her parents, instead, but it seemed the father wasn’t disembarking, either. His w
ife was clinging to him as if she might never see him again. Why wasn’t he going along? There was plenty of room in the lifeboat. Families should always stay together, no matter what was happening.

  Small wonder the girl was upset. Leaving both her beau, for he was clearly that, and her father behind, on a ship that was in trouble.

  It wasn’t right. It wasn’t right at all.

  When Brian and Paddy returned, she would insist that they all leave the ship in the same lifeboat. She wouldn’t let them argue with her. Brian was a man of his word, and he had promised her da he would see to it that she got to America safely. She would hold him to that promise, shame him if he refused to get into the lifeboat.

  But first, they both had to return. The moments were ticking away, and people were leaving in the lifeboats, and still there was no sign of Paddy or Brian.

  Chapter 23

  Monday, April 15, 1912

  Standing on the ship’s starboard side near lifeboat number five as it was being lowered, Elizabeth could see, far below her, one boat already sitting on the flat black sea, bobbing like a bathtub toy. “Why are both boats nearly empty?” she asked Max, now standing at her elbow. The ear-splitting roar of steam from the huge funnels above them made it necessary to shout. “Shouldn’t they be full? There are so many people on board.”

  “They’ve probably assigned those boats the task of picking up—” he stopped abruptly, as if regretting his words.

  But Elizabeth knew what he’d been about to say. “Picking up survivors.” And he’d stopped in midsentence because he didn’t want her thinking about survivors. He didn’t want her picturing people flailing around in those icy waters, shouting for help.

  But if the ship went down before every passenger and crew member had been removed by lifeboat, that ugly image would become reality.

  No wonder Max had stopped speaking. It was too horrible a possibility to even think about.

  Her only response was a shocked “Oh.” She was having trouble regulating her breathing. Impossible to tell herself there was no cause for alarm. How could she, when there were now two lifeboats pulling away from the ship?

  But then, pointing, Max said, “There’s a steamer in the distance. See the lights? They’re probably on their way here right now to take on passengers.”

  That thought was somewhat reassuring.

  Elizabeth wondered nervously if that was why there was not much of a crowd waiting to board the next lifeboat. Because people believed they’d be safer staying on board, waiting for the steamer to arrive? Perhaps they all thought it would take hours for the Titanic to sink, and long before that happened, the steamer would have pulled alongside.

  Or had the word not gone round yet that the ship was sinking? Had no one made the announcement in the gymnasium, or in the smoking rooms or the lounges?

  She asked her father what time it was.

  “A little after twelve-thirty,” he answered.

  Forty-five minutes since the engines had stopped. Yet, except for that almost imperceptible tilt to the deck, the ship still seemed as stable and as safe as ever.

  But Elizabeth knew it wasn’t.

  “Father,” she called, touching his sleeve to get his attention over the roar of the steam, “there are ships on their way to rescue us. Couldn’t we just wait here with everyone else until they arrive? It seems so much safer than the lifeboats. And you can see mother is frightened about leaving the ship. So am I.”

  The expression on his face told her he was as reluctant to separate the family as she was. “We shall stay together as long as it is safe,” he consented. “There seems to be no urgency just yet. But when I say the word, Elizabeth, I want no argument. None, do you hear me?”

  “Yes, Father.” Satisfied with that, Elizabeth grasped Max’s hand and held it tightly as the Farrs moved slightly backward, away from the line preparing to board boat number three. Perhaps there would be no need to leave the Titanic at all…if the rescue ship arrived soon.

  Her mother looked so pale. How frightened she must be, not just at the thought of the lifeboat’s terrifyingly long drop from the deck to the water below, but at the possibility of having to leave her husband behind, not really knowing when she would see him again.

  As if reading Elizabeth’s thoughts, Nola turned suddenly and embraced her husband. “I’m not going to leave you,” she said, tears filling her eyes. “I’m not. The boats are leaving only half full. Other men are boarding. No one will mind if you come with us. Please, Martin, you must!”

  His handsome face filled with pain. But he shook his head, and although he put his arms around his wife to comfort her, he said, “Oh, Nola, you know I can’t do that.” He held her silently for a few moments, then gently pulled away, saying in a firm but gentle voice, “We will wait for a bit, together. I feel no immediate danger. But as I told Elizabeth, when I say you must go, that will be that. Understood?”

  Relief in her face, his wife said, “Yes, Martin.”

  It was clear to Elizabeth that her mother believed, as she herself wanted to, that if they waited long enough, a rescue ship would save them from being lowered out into that cold, dark sea in a small boat.

  As boat number five began to drop the last few feet to the sea, a voice shouted from the deck, “See to the plug, see to the plug!”

  “What plug?” Elizabeth asked Max.

  He began shouting his answer, which Elizabeth couldn’t really hear. But halfway through his explanation, the funnel noise stopped abruptly—“letting rainwater drain out while the boats are hanging in place, unused,” Max was saying. His shout sounded odd in the sudden silence. He lowered his voice. “If they don’t put the plug back in before they hit the sea, they’ll be swamped. I hope they thought to put a lantern on the boats, or they’ll have a devil of a time finding the plug in the dark.”

  They must have found the plug and inserted it, because they began rowing aft. As they did, Elizabeth could see an officer in the boat giving orders. He seemed to be looking for something, but eventually gave up on whatever it was, and began pulling out to sea, away from the Titanic. The boat seemed so small, the ocean so vast, Elizabeth wondered in dread how a rescue ship would ever spot such a small blot on the endless seascape, especially in the dark of night.

  Her father had turned away for a moment to talk to a crewman. Elizabeth couldn’t hear what they were saying, but her father’s expression turned grim. His glance went from one lifeboat to the next, as if he were mentally counting them, and when he had finished, his eyes looked bleak.

  What terrible truth had he been told? Something about the boats.

  Elizabeth knew there were more lifeboats on the port side. But she didn’t know how many. Her alarm deepened. Exactly how many lifeboats were there? How many passengers? Why had her father looked so grim after he’d done his mental counting?

  “Max?” she asked, turning back to him. Fear made her voice husky. “Are there enough lifeboats?”

  “Oh, sure,” he said. Too easily, Elizabeth thought. It didn’t sound genuine, and she wondered uneasily if he had heard the fear in her voice and was addressing it. As if she were a child who needed placating. “On a ship like this? Bound to be. Why?”

  Elizabeth spoke insistently. “Because if everyone really believed the ship was unsinkable, they might not have installed as many lifeboats as on other ships. Because no one thought they’d be needed.”

  “Oh, I don’t think that would make any difference. There are maritime laws about that sort of thing. They’d have to install the correct number of lifeboats whether they thought the ship was unsinkable or not.”

  Elizabeth fought to accept that. Max sounded like he knew what he was talking about. There were laws about such things. If he was right, her father and Max would have a lifeboat, after all. They would leave the sinking ship just a bit later than Elizabeth and her mother, but they would all meet again later on the rescue ship that saved them.

  Though she fought to believe that, something stoppe
d her. It was the understanding that the builders of the Titanic, declaring their ship unsinkable, must have sounded like they knew what they were talking about, too. If they, experts that they were, could be wrong, as it certainly seemed they had been, Max could be wrong, too.

  And didn’t it seem now that more of the faces around her were registering alarm? Were not the voices turning more strident and shrill as they shouted questions at the crewmen? Weren’t there more people pushing forward toward the lifeboats? Mothers gripping the hands of their children. Husbands with a protective arm wrapped around a wife’s shoulders. Honeymooners clutching each other with new desperation.

  Or was she imagining these things because of her own fear?

  No, she was not. There was fear in the air as thick as the morning fog.

  Elizabeth turned to her father, who kept an arm around his wife’s shoulders as they waited. Her lips white with anxiety, she said, “Father? I’m sorry I made you angry earlier. I didn’t mean what I said. Of course you’re no coward. I hope you can forgive me.”

  His eyes looked incredibly sad as he smiled down at her and reached out with his free arm to pull her in against him. “Ah, Elizabeth, how much time have we wasted arguing? Such a pity!” Softly, so that his wife wouldn’t hear him, he whispered into Elizabeth’s ear, “You’ll take care of your mother for me, yes? She’s not strong, like you, Elizabeth. From the moment you both leave this ship, you must do as she says. Promise me.”

  Elizabeth knew then that Max was wrong. Knew it for certain. The blood in her veins chilled as if she’d been dropped into the icy sea. Her father was certain there weren’t enough lifeboats for everyone. That was what he’d learned from the crewman. He no longer expected to leave the Titanic later, as he’d promised earlier. Maybe he had believed it then. But he didn’t now. Or he wouldn’t have that despairing look in his eyes. It spoke of no hope.

  But she needed him to say it. Aloud. With a direct gaze that said she would tolerate nothing less than the absolute truth, and keeping an unsteady voice as low as his, she asked, “There aren’t enough lifeboats, are there, Father?”