A Life's Tragedy
August 15, 2003 -
My driver pulled into Belfast. Swarms of people littered the streets. Every culture imaginable. Awful, I thought. Where were people of my class? First class. Royalty, rail road fortune heirs, new money, anything but this filth.
We parked, My personal valet pulled open my door. The sight was breathtaking. The RMS Titanic sitting there before me. I was in awe at her beauty.
"I don't see what all the fuss is about. It doesn't look any bigger the Mauritania." Rose, my splendid fiancé, spoke blatantly.
I walked up beside her. "You can be blasé about some things, Rose. But not about Titanic. She's over a hundred feet longer then Mauritania. And far more luxurious." I said. I turned to Rose's mother. "You're daughter is far too difficult to impress, Ruth."
She laughed, as we walked towards the ship. This ship was amazing.
"God himself could not sink this ship." I announced. Delighted that the ship had reached my full expectations.
Mr. Spicer Lovejoy, my valet, tended to our luggage as we boarded the ship.
Rose wrapped her arm around mine, Ruth walked out in front of us. We were going back to America. Our wedding had already been announced. But what a splendid thing to have a final voyage before being tied down in marriage.
My father, Nathan Hockley, was a Pittsburgh Steel man. I was always brought up in riches and wealth. But Titanic even surpassed my every desire.
I was shown to my private promenade deck. Splendid, I thought to myself. As I looked out over the crowds on the lower deck.
"Would you be requiring anything, sir?" A steward asked from behind me. I waved a hand dismissively.
I picked up the bottle of fine champagne. Pouring myself some in a crystal wine glass. Such finery. Each suite furnished completely. China dishes. Golden wood and sculpted detail. This truly was the ship of dreams. I was all the more proud, of bringing this experience to the Dewitt Bukaters.
I reentered the state room. God, I thought to myself. Rose was putting up the hideous paintings I had bought for her. The artist was terrible in my opinion.
I sipped on the champagne, leaning on the doorframe. Rose was beautiful. Only seventeen years old. But she had the body and mind of a woman. Flowing red hair, which was done up on her head. Her eyes sparkling with wonder over the horrible paintings.
I watched Trudy, the maid, help Rose place the paintings all over the room.
"God, those mud puddles certainly were a waste of money." I scoffed.
Trudy looked at me.
"The difference between Cal's taste in art, and mine. Is that I have some. They are fascinating." Rose said.
"Well at least they were cheap." I smiled.
I turned to Lovejoy as he ordered my safe be placed in the wardrobe.
I left Rose to finish decorating her room. I handed a steward a twenty to take care of my things for me.
"J.J.!" I called down the hall to a familiar face.
John Jacob Astor and his wife Madeline were strolling arm and arm.
"Caledon!" He said, looking a bit surprised to see me. They stopped and waited for me.
"John, Madeline. How are you this afternoon?" I asked in a polite voice. He was the richest man on the ship. I acted as though we were old friends.
"Fine, Cal." Madeline smiled. She held her arm across her stomach, trying to hide her pregnancy.
"Where is your fiancé?" J.J. asked.
"Ah you know Rose. Being melancholy, putting on a show." I laughed. "So where are you headed."
"We're off to take a stroll on the deck. Why don't you join us." He said.
I nodded. "Well if you insist." I followed them to the lifts.
Madeline and J.J. continued to walk arm in arm. I walked the same pace on the opposite side of John.
"Beautiful afternoon for sailing, don't you think?" I asked. Trying to make conversation.
"Oh, yes. Definitely." J.J. smiled. Madeline whispered that she needed to rest a spell. Most likely because of her delicate condition. She sat on the wooden deck chair. John at her side. I stood leaning on the rail. The wind whipped through my black hair. Bringing it down from where I had had it neatly combed.
I heard someone yelling. I looked towards the front of the ship.
"I'm the king of the world!" A young man, from steerage, shouted.
I laughed. "God, you'd think they could keep them in their places." I motioned to the young man.
John looked at me sternly. I quickly realized he didn't feel the same way. "What I meant was, he could get injured. They shouldn't allow passengers that close to the bow railings." I laughed nervously.
"Yes." John nodded suspiciously. I looked to the young man again. There was another man with him, but he was silent.
"I think Madeline needs to rest." John said standing.
I nodded. Walking with them back to the first class corridors. They disappeared into their room.
I only hoped I hadn't made a bad impression with him. I went back to my room, to dress for dinner. The black dinner jacket was the last thing I put on. I ran the comb through my hair, and met Ruth in the hall.
"Rose, is still dressing. I apologize." Ruth said. I crooked my elbow allowing her to hold onto my arm.
"It's fine. She'll just meet us in the dining hall." I smiled.
Rose joined us only moments later. Wearing a beautiful gown. I was lucky to have her. I knew this. But I never let that be known.
Our table was filled with rich members of society. Among those at our table was: Thomas Andrews, the master shipbuilder, and Bruce Ismay, director at White Star Line.
Molly Brown was also seated at the table. Directly in front of me. I was not fond of this woman, I won't pretend to be. She was new money, as Ruth so eloquently put it.
All of her money was from her husband. She was loud, and completely vulgar. In my opinion, at least.
Thomas and Bruce were discussing the Titanic's building stages. I hardly listened. I sipped on the delicious champagne.
"You know I don't like that, Rose." Ruth was saying. I turned to them, they were seated to my right. Rose had lit a cigarette.
I reached over, pulling the cigarette from the polished wood holder. I extinguished it in the tray. "She knows." I said, I bit angry.
I ordered the lamb for both, Rose and I. "You like lamb, don't you sweetpea?"
She nodded to me, with a smile I knew had to be fake. I turned back to the table.
"You gonna carve her meat, there for her too, Cal?" Molly Brown asked.
I glared at her, until she turned away.
"So who thought up the name, Titanic? Was it you Bruce?" She asked looking to Mr. Ismay.
Again I merely fell into thought. My mind swamped with my marriage ceremony. I thought about the gift I had bought Rose. I wondered when I should give it to her.
"Do you know of Dr. Freud? His ideas about the male preoccupation with size might be of particular interest to you, Mr. Ismay." Rose said, bringing me from my thoughts.
I looked at Thomas who was attempting to suppress laughter. I didn't find her rude behavior funny at all.
"If you'll excuse me." Rose stood and walked away from the table.
I sat with my hands folded before me. Embarrassed by her actions. But not so much as her mother.
"I do apologize." Ruth said to the group.
"She's a pistol, Cal. Hope you can handle her." Molly said smiling at me.
I thought about it a moment before answering. "Well, I may have to start minding what she reads from now on, won't I Mrs. Brown?" I asked.
She sat back in her chair. The first time during the entire dinner that she had been quiet.
I picked up my wine-glass again, drinking a little. The group continued to talk about the ship. How wonderful it was. Yes, I had to agree with them. But enough is enough. It's a ship. Sure it was great. But couldn't they just leave it at that?
"Join me for some brandy?" Mr. Ismay, asked looking down at me.
I waved my hand sending him away. I gentle scooted my chair away from the table. I stood and walked out of the dining hall to find Rose.
I found her quickly, outside on the top deck. Looking over to the bottom deck.
"Rose, that was a ridiculous display in there." I lectured her. "What were you thinking?"
"Cal, forget it you wouldn't understand." She said and stormed off behind me.
I looked down to the deck. A man held a leather binder, with paper, in his lap. He stared up at me. He was dressed like the one from the bow. I wondered briefly if he was the same guy.
His staring had quickly annoyed me. Had he been watching Rose as well? I didn't know. I turned and walked speedily after Rose.
"Rose wait!" I said a bit loudly. I didn't want to cause a stir. She ran to her room, slamming the whitewashed door in my face.
I knocked on the door. "Come on, Rose. Come out of there." I tried the golden doorknob. "Rose, I said some out of there!" I said, anger in my voice.
"No!" She shouted back.
What had made her this angry? I hadn't the slightest idea. I knocked once more.
"Problems, Sir?" Someone asked from behind me. I turned to see Mr. Guggenheim.
"No, sir." I smiled.
"Splendid then, won't you join me for a cigar and brandy?" He asked.
"Great." I agreed and followed him down the corridor. I quickly glanced back at Roses door.
"What about the presidential campaigns, aren't they just dreadful these days?" Mr. Guggenheim said to our small group of men, in the smoking room.
A waiter leaned down and lit my expensive English cigar. I breathed in the smoke. These conversations really did bore me, but this was the crowd I belonged in. So I remained very sociable.
A steward rushed over to our table. "Mr. Hockley. Mr. Hockley. I was sent to find you. You have to come with me." He was saying.
I stood, Colonel Gracie stood as well. Spicer Lovejoy looked from me back to the steward.
"Well what is it?" I asked.
"It's Miss. Dewitt Bukater. She's been attacked." He sounded frantic. Mr. Lovejoy now stood.
I followed the steward to the deck. Lovejoy and the colonel behind us. When we arrived at the stern, I couldn't believe my eyes. There was the same man from steerage, standing by the master-at-arms.