By the Light of the Silvery Moon

by Tricia Goyer

  CHAPTER 24

  From the first-class decks, Damien looked down onto the forward well. Dorothea’s kisses were still warm on his lips, but his mind was on another. He didn’t want to think about where Amelia was now—who she was with. It was bad enough to hear his father talk about Quentin without stopping. It pained him to hear his father’s prayers of thankfulness. How could he be thankful to be reunited with someone who’d caused so much pain?

  His eyes widened as he spotted chunks of ice scattered across the deck, ankle deep. Laughter filled the air and, below, a group of boys spilled out of the third-class doorway, throwing the ice at each other. Within seconds their throwing turned to kicks, and they started up a game of American soccer. At least they knew how to have fun—how to liven things up.

  He strode to the smoking room and saw three gentleman playing cards. “If you’re wanting to know what we hit, it was an iceberg. Seems to have passed now.”

  One of the men glanced up. “Maybe that’s why they’ve slowed the engines—because more are ahead.”

  A man from outside rushed into the room. “It was an iceberg, all right. Saw it with my own eyes.”

  One of the other card players shrugged and then fixed his eyes back on his game.

  “How big?” Damien asked.

  “Sixty feet, maybe more.”

  Damien nodded, glancing down at his suit and wondering if he should go for his coat. He might want to venture out later, and a coat would help against the cold. “My guess is that we swiped an iceberg with a glancing blow and they stopped to examine her,” he said, even though no one seemed to pay him any mind.

  One of the card players laughed. “Poor vessel. Such a pretty thing, and now some of her paint has been scratched off her side.”

  “Well, look at it this way,” the final card player piped up. “It appears we have more ice for our drinks, gentlemen. Now back to our brandy.”

  As the men continued their game, Damien returned to the deck, walking vigorously to keep warm. He glanced over the rail a few more times, as if the answer to why they stopped could be found in the waves.

  Minutes passed, and the ship began to move again, slowly, creeping through the water. Just then he spotted something out of the corner of his eye. An officer climbed up on a lifeboat and began to throw off its cover.

  Damien crossed his arms over his chest, considering if he should warn anyone. The first person who crossed his mind was Amelia. He shook his head and sighed. Quentin would take care of her, he supposed. His lips lifted in a sarcastic smile, again unsure of what someone like her saw in someone like his brother.

  Pushing her from his thoughts, Damien approached one of the officers who was milling around.

  “We struck an iceberg, but there is no need to worry,” the officer explained even before he asked.

  Damien knew the best thing to do would be to return and reassure his father. There was no need for the old man to get up and dressed for no reason. Still, he hurried to their stateroom, and a foreboding came over him. What would happen to his father if he wasn’t around? His father had embraced Quentin, that was to be sure. But where was his younger brother when Father needed help?

  He moved through their shared sitting area and knocked on his father’s door. The light flipped on, and his father opened it. Just as Damien was about to tell him of the iceberg, a loud pounding sounded from outside.

  “It’s ordered that everyone must put on their life belts!” a voice called. “Then head up to the decks as you are able!”

  His father looked to him, concern filling his gaze. “What’s happening?” “We hit an iceberg, Father, but I’m sure all will soon be well. You know how important safety is to our captain. I imagine once everything is checked out, they’ll be sending us back to bed.”

  His father’s butler entered the room and pulled out clothes.

  Damien dressed, putting on an extra layer of clothes over the ones he was wearing. Then, with quickened movements, he gathered up their watches, wallets, and trinkets that they’d picked up in London—putting them in their trunk and locking it tight, lest anyone try to sneak in and rob them of their things during the confusion.

  “Are you ready, Father?”

  “I am, but what about your brother?” Panic seized the old man’s face.

  “I’ll check his room again, but I’ve been watching, and he hasn’t returned. I believe he’s with Amelia.” “Yes, please check, and then search the decks, will you, Damien? Now that I know your brother’s on this liner, my heart’s not going to settle until I know he’s safe—until I know we’re all safe together.”

  A man’s voice echoed through the halls. “All passengers on deck with life belts on!”

  Amelia put her lifebelt on over her coat, tying it firmly. A shiver ran up her arms, and she turned to her aunt, helping to tie her life belt, too. Then they left their room as quickly as they could.

  Other passengers filled the halls and passageways now, yet none of them seemed alarmed. All spoke in low tones as they filed up to the deck, wondering what this could mean.

  Amelia took her aunt’s hand, and they walked side by side. Before and behind them, fellow passengers chatted as they walked. No one seemed in a hurry. Some joked of their midnight drill. Amelia’s stomach knotted, and she thought she would be ill. Only the officers’ anxious faces looked alarmed.

  She led her aunt to the place where Quentin had told her to meet him, but he was nowhere in sight. Around them, the shouts of officers and sailors filled the air as they hurriedly prepared the lifeboats.

  “Amelia, this deck is cold.” Her aunt’s chin quivered. “Maybe we should go in there.” Aunt Neda turned and pointed to the reception room. Following her gaze, Amelia saw that indeed most of the passengers were inside, enjoying music, drinking. Fur coats draped over their life belts, and men and women huddled in small groups, laughing and talking.

  Amelia lowered her head and said a quick prayer for wisdom. If only Quentin were here. Where had he gone?

  “All right, Aunt.” Amelia blew out a sigh, and her breath hung in the air. “We can go in for a little while. No use standing in the cold.”

  They hurried inside and huddled with the others near the grand stairway, listening to the musicians play. Amelia crossed her arms over her chest, anger mixing with her worry. Where had Quentin gone?

  As the minutes ticked by, Amelia thought about returning to the deck to look for him. Just then she felt a hand on her arm. She turned and immediately recognized the red-headed steward, one of those she’d chatted with on the journey.

  “Don’t you realize this ship is going down, ma’am? We’ve struck an iceberg. They’ve already launched some lifeboats. You must get in the first one you can.”

  She opened her mouth to reply, but what could one say to that? With urgency in his gaze, he hurried off without mentioning the lifeboats to any others.

  “Aunt, can you wait here one moment? Mr. Walpole’s stateroom isn’t far. I just want to go take a look.”

  “Yes, dear.” She nodded. “But hurry. You heard what that young man said.”

  Amelia quickly strode up the stairway and then found herself jogging down the hall where the first-class staterooms were. As she continued on, an eeriness passed through her. The rooms were lit so brilliantly, their doors were opened, their contents scattered.

  Down the hall she heard a woman calling to a steward, frantic that she could not find her life belt. The steward removed his own life belt and hurriedly rushed toward her.

  Arriving at the Walpole staterooms, Amelia let out a cry. They were empty. Rushing back to her aunt, she grabbed her arm and guided her outside.

  “Did you find Quentin?” Aunt Neda asked.

  “No.” Her voice quavered. “There was no one there.”

  “Maybe they put the first class into lifeboats first. Maybe he’s already left.”

  Amelia shook her head. “No, he wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t leave me.”

  Aunt Neda lo
oked into Amelia’s face. “Of course not, dear. Of course not.”

  CHAPTER 25

  On the top deck, many passengers had assembled. Women in coats and wraps. Others with blankets wrapped around their shoulders, shivering. Thankfully, with the ship’s engines stopped, the breeze caused by its movement had died down, too. Amelia peered at the ocean below. It seemed so vast and dark. The air was frigid, and she guessed the water was colder still. The Titanic seemed large and steady. She questioned if the steward had known what he was talking about. The ship under her feet seemed far safer than the small lifeboats setting off.

  The men and women around her stood quietly on the deck, watching the crew as they prepared the lifeboats. They arranged the oars and coiled ropes on decks. One man adjusted the ropes that ran the pulleys, preparing to lower a boat to the sea. No one questioned what was happening. No one offered to help.

  The atmosphere was quiet, and stars filled the sky. She glanced around and noticed that there was no moon. So she hummed her favorite song to calm her nerves. More people poured from the stairs and filled the deck.

  By the light of the silvery moon …

  “Lifeboats? Why are they lowering the lifeboats?” A woman’s voice called out. “This ship could smash a hundred icebergs and not feel it!”

  I want to spoon, To my honey I’ll croon love’s tune …

  As if responding to the woman, an officer cried out, “Get on your life belts, there’s trouble ahead!”

  Honey moon, keep a-shinin’ in June. Your silv’ry beams will bring love’s dreams, We’ll be cuddlin’ soon, by the silvery moon …

  Just then Amelia turned and saw Quentin approaching. He led a woman with three young daughters. Quentin fastened the life belt on a girl who appeared to be around ten years old as they approached. “Here, see how that fits. It’s the latest fashion. Everyone will be wearing them soon.”

  The girl approached Amelia, tugging on her arm. “Do you think they’ll have a life preserver for my doggie? He’s in a crate down below.” Amelia turned to the girl’s mother. Tears filled the woman’s eyes. Then she turned back to the young girl.

  “I’m not sure they have one his size, dearie. But look at those people getting on the lifeboat. Would you like to join them?”

  The mother crossed her arms and pulled them tight to her chest. “No, we’re waiting here for my husband. He’s coming up just now with our son. Should be here any moment.”

  Amelia turned to Quentin, her eyes pleading for him to help.

  He stepped forward. “Ma’am, if I were your husband, I would feel better knowing you were on a lifeboat. If you go ahead, I’ll make sure he knows you’re safe.”

  The woman looked around as if hoping her husband would suddenly appear. “Are you sure?”

  Quentin nodded. “Yes, ma’am, go ahead and get in the boat.”

  Relief filled the woman’s face, and she hurried to the nearest boat. Within a minute’s time, they were safely aboard.

  “Did they come from third class?” Amelia asked Quentin.

  He nodded. “Yes, that’s where I came from. I did what I could to lead some people up to the decks, but there was too much confusion. Many didn’t want to leave their things, their large trunks. It’s all that they own.”

  Beside them, a young man led his wife to the awaiting officer who manned the next lifeboat. “You go, and I’ll stay awhile,” the young husband said. He stroked her long hair.

  “You’ll get in another boat, won’t you?” Her words released as sobs.

  “Of course.” He nodded. “When they let me, I’ll be the first to board.”

  Next to the young woman an older woman stretched her hands out to her husband. “Please, won’t you get in with me?”

  He sadly shook his head. “Darling, what type of man would I be if I allowed women to wait while I found my way to safety?” He shooed her with his hand. “Don’t worry. We’ll meet up soon enough.”

  Seeing that the woman wasn’t leaving her husband’s side, Quentin took her hand and led her to the next lifeboat. As soon as he helped her aboard, he stayed there, assisting the frightened women as they stepped from the firm foundation of the Titanic‘s decks to the lifeboat that swung by ropes hooked to rigging.

  Amelia stood with her aunt, wondering if they should board a boat, too. She glanced around and noticed a steward standing among the passengers. A cigarette dangled from his lips, and it seemed he, too, was waiting his turn to board the life vessel. Surely if someone who spent his life on the seas believed it was best to get into the boat, she should trust that. Amelia closed her eyes and imagined what her mother would do. Would she hang back, feeling security in the ship?

  Get on the boat, she felt something in her say. Trust … trust you will be carried to safety.

  A woman with dark hair falling from its bun approached the steward, grasping his arm.

  “Sir, my mother is elderly. She’s still sleeping below. Do you think I should wake her?”

  With slow movements, he pulled the cigarette from his lips, flicking ashes onto the deck. “Listen ma’am. I know it doesn’t seem like an emergency, but I’ve worked on liners long enough to know that they don’t launch lifeboats unless they believe this ship is going down.”

  The woman gasped. “That’s impossible. It’s an unsinkable ship.”

  The steward shrugged, and it was clear he wasn’t going to argue. Reluctantly, the woman entered through the doors and moved down the hall.

  Amelia peered into the icy ocean. The woman had a point. What about the watertight compartments? Had they been compromised? She rubbed her hands together, trying to warm them. Weren’t the many safety precautions supposed to keep the ship afloat?

  As they waited patiently, the line lengthened, and both Amelia and her aunt took a step back. It seemed wrong to push their way to the front. She was sure they’d all get their turn.

  As they stood, a white-haired stewardess approached, and through the fog of her thoughts, Amelia realized it was Geraldine.

  Geraldine’s face was pale, and she grasped Amelia’s arm in a vicelike grip. “I heard Mr. Andrews—the designer—talking to Captain Smith. The ship will sink, Emma. You must get on a lifeboat as soon as possible.”

  “Geraldine, I am Amelia, Emma’s daughter,” she tried to explain.

  The older woman nodded. “Yes, Emma, of course.” Then she hurried down the deck, approaching another passenger with the same news.

  Just then, a roar blasted through the funnels, sounding like a line of train engines roaring down a tunnel. Amelia jumped and tried to control her emotions that carried her away like wild horses. Fear gripped her heart. Her stomach ached, and she was sure she’d lose her dinner.

  Just when Amelia felt her legs would no longer be able to hold her up, Quentin approached with a blanket, wrapping it around her.

  “Amelia, I need to leave. I must go find my father. My brother. But I can’t leave the deck until I know you’re safe. It is time. I want you and your aunt to get on the next boat.”

  She looked into his eyes, seeing love there. “Yes.” She nodded, not wanting to be like these other women. She wanted Quentin to know that she trusted him. She was determined not to argue.

  “I want you to know something.” He stroked her cheek. “Never regret giving me that ticket, do you understand? Even if I don’t make it—“

  Her hand reached for his. “Don’t say that.”

  “Listen.” He placed a finger to her lips. “Even if I do not make it, I will always be thankful for meeting you. For having the chance to love you.” His eyes glistened with unshed tears.

  “All women and children head down to the deck below. We’ll board there. Men stand back,” a voice called, interrupting.

  “But more than that.” He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “If I hadn’t been on this ship, I never would have found my way into my father’s arms. If I’d never made it to the ship, I never would have discovered that God still loved me, that I cou
ld be forgiven. God used you, Amelia.”

  He smiled at her. It was a sad smile. “Now, do what the man says and head to the deck below.”

  She nodded, but she didn’t move.

  “Amelia, you must go.” He placed a kiss atop her head, hugged her tightly—adjusting her coat to make sure she was snug—and then gently pushed her back.

  With a tear-filled gaze into his eyes, Amelia took her aunt’s arm, and they followed the others. Near the bottom of the stairwell, a woman next to them clung to her husband, refusing to leave. Another young woman pleaded for her father to join her.

  “He must wait,” the officer said simply. “Once the decks are cleared of women and children, he will be put in a lifeboat, too.”

  Amelia’s knees quivered at the scenes around her—fathers parting from their children, giving them an encouraging pat on the shoulders. Men kissing wives.

  “I’ll be with you shortly,” one man whispered as he helped his pregnant wife into the boat. His wife nodded, but Amelia could tell she didn’t believe him.

  Another woman cried as she hung on to the lapel of her husband’s jacket.

  “Darling, it’s just a precaution. There is no danger,” he stated simply. “Don’t you remember? This is the finest ship ever built. With the water-tight compartments, we won’t sink.”

  “Then let me stay with you,” she cried.

  “Darling, please. Just do as the good officer says.”

  The husband waited as she climbed in and then tucked the blankets carefully around her as if she were preparing for a motorcar ride.

  Just then a loud roar sounded and a hiss filled the air. Amelia clung to her aunt and looked around. “It’s one of boilers, I suppose.”

  A child’s cry split the air, and the women around her spoke in hushed tones.

  Amelia looked back to the deck where they’d just come from, and she noticed Quentin was gone. Maybe it was better that way. She hoped he’d find his father. And after that she guessed he’d help more people—it was what he would do.

  Another deafening boom sounded, and Amelia jumped. The strains of the band’s song gently reached her ears, and she saw they’d moved onto the deck. Did they hope to cheer up the passengers by playing outside? She imagined that if this was a false alarm, they’d have a fine story to tell in the morning.