1. Carpathia
Joseph Boxhall sat down on a deck chair as he watched the survivors of the Titanic sinking mill about aimlessly. Some were very distressed upon learning that their relatives and friends hadn't survived and Boxhall couldn't blame them in the least. He felt a sharp pain in his chest and winced, wishing that the disaster hadn't happened, thinking that he could have been in his bed on board the ship right now, sleeping off the cold he knew was slowly overtaking him. The young officer knew he should have been inside a common room where it was nice and warm, but the eyes of the survivors seemed to pierce at his very soul. With so many people came a sense of claustrophobia to him and the inevitable questions would crop up.
"What happened, sir?"
"Have you seen...?"
"Why didn't you do more to stop it?!"
Boxhall lowered his face into his hands for a long moment to compose himself. The junior officer raised his head and stared out over the sea, watching the sunrise like it was the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen.
"Morning, Joe," Pitman greeted him, sitting down beside his friend on an adjoining deck chair. "how are you holding up?"
"No worse for wear," pulling at a loose thread in the cuff of his left sleeve, he gave Pitman a weary look. "I wish that this hadn't happened."
Pitman kindly pressed a mug of tea into his friend's hand. Boxhall turned it so he could see the Cunard logo clearly and breathed a heavy sigh that ended with a slight cough. "Drink up now, it'll make you feel better." Pitman encouraged him. Boxhall gave a faint half smile and took a sip, happy to have a gentle warming sensation spread through him and the scratchy feeling in his throat disappeared. Chamomile and lemon washed his tonsils thoroughly, causing him to look gratefully at Pitman. He'd known what was his friend's favorite tea flavor was and it seemed like a miracle to him that he should conjure up the brew while on a rescue ship.
"It's Captain Rostron's favorite as well," Pitman told him kindly, answering the unspoken questions in his friend's eyes. "it would do your throat some good as well. I heard you coughing."
"Very observant of you," Boxhall said wryly as he continued to drink. "what is the latest news?"
"Well, Captain Rostron is going to leave this place at about 8 and he wants to hold a prayer or memorial service to the fallen before we do leave." Pitman pulled out his black leather gloves and put them on as a gust of cold air greeted him in the face.
"He's a nice man."
"Indeed he is, Joe. I've heard about him."
"What have you heard?" Boxhall held back a wince as another pain throbbed dully in his chest.
"I don't know all the details, but Rostron punched out someone once. He doesn't drink, smoke, or swear. He's a very pious man."
"If he's that pious, does he have children at all?" a sly smile formed for a moment on Boxhall's mouth as Pitman winked.
"He does. Anyway, Lightoller and I have to go and inspect the lifeboats. Try to go inside and get some sleep."
Boxhall said nothing as Pitman left, taking some comfort in the tea he was drinking, thinking about the situation they had come from.
He had been walking back to the bridge when he felt a scraping on one side of the Titanic. He looked out and saw a black mass of ice go by. Knowing that the ship was wounded and maybe fatally, Boxhall walked back to the deck as much as his pride and dignity would allow him. Murdoch had been standing at the starboard bridge wing, glancing after the ice, then he'd run in like his tail was on fire and shut the watertight doors. Moody had exchanged a look with Boxhall and both went into the chart room after Murdoch had told them to note the iceberg in the ship's log. About 5 minutes later, Captain Smith had asked him to calculate their position and he did so, not understanding the situation then. Like many others, he thought the lifeboat loading and lowering was a routine drill so the ship's crew could mend the hole and bring everyone back on board. It wasn't until he was away in one of the boats when it dawned on him how serious it all was. The ship had gone down by the head until the stern stuck up into the air, then the lights went out. Boxhall didn't know what had happened then, as he commanded the lifeboat to row away from the suction of the ship.
There was no use dwelling on it now. Several of the survivors were going to the memorial service which was presided over by the ship's chaplain and the captain. Boxhall got up and went into the ship, finding the quarters one of the Carpathia's officers had generously given to him. Taking off his hat, shoes, and his jacket, he didn't even bother to pull back the covers of the bed. Boxhall sank down into the comfortable bed and put his head down on the pillow, yet he was afraid to close his eyes, fearing nightmares of the ship sinking.
It wasn't long before exhaustion carried him off.
At the same time, a lone figure was standing at the stern of the ship, looking back over the wreck site. A young woman with dark blonde hair and hazel eyes gripped the taffrail, ignoring the flapping of the Cunard flag next to her. She had an oval shaped face and her facial features were suggestive of Greek descendence. Full dark pink lips, high cheekbones, and a low forehead with curling dark blonde hair framed her face eloquently.
The lady's dark green dress skirt flapped out in the small breeze as she stood there, a borrowed black shawl was covering her head and shoulders. Her hair flowed loosely from her shoulders as she stared aimlessly into the horizon.
"Miss?" Captain Rostron came up to her from behind, startling her. "Would you like to come inside now? We're starting off to New York."
"No thank you, sir," her voice was smooth and she spoke with a dark melodious tone of voice that implied she had seen worse troubles than a ship sinking. "I prefer to be outside."
Rostron decided to put on his paternal air to see if she would respond to it. "I am worried about your health, madam. You stay out here too long, you will fall ill." he brushed aside a loose curl from the side of her face so he could see her eyes more clearly.
"All right then, Captain." she took his arm and they walked away from the stern.
"What is your name?"
"You can call me Violet, sir." they walked into a common room as the ship engaged, taking the passengers and survivors to New York City.