Disclaimer: I own nothing but the Ellen…and a DVD of Titanic…but it's copywrited, much to my own displeasure
Chapter 2: Ellen Whitehouse
March 26th, 1912
Ellen Whitehouse knew all there was to know about ships: their physics, mechanics, movements, everything. When it came to boats, she knew more than most captains and engineers combined. She could quickly accredit such knowledge to her love of the ocean but, if she was truly honest with herself, she knew it sprung from her close relationship with history's famous shipbuilder, Thomas Andrews. Ellen was his niece. Well, technically, she was his wife's niece but their families had been friends for quite some time and he had always treated her as his daughter. The relationship had grown stronger since her mother had passed away three years ago, leaving the eighteen year old an orphan with only a necklace to remember her by. Ellen's real father had died before she was born and her uncle was the closest thing she'd ever really had to such a relation. She could only hope that would not change when his baby, Elizabeth, grew older. Uncle Andrews, as she called him, had been the one to kindle her passion for all vessels of the sea; she didn't want to lose someone who understood that love so fully.
His current project, the RMS Titanic, stirred her interest beyond words could express. When it was in construction, she wandered the grounds almost daily. In all honesty, it was against regulation to let her do so but Ellen seemed to get whatever she wanted. The twenty-one year old was not spoiled; not by any means. She just had a sort of undeniable charm that she herself did not know she possessed. In fact Ellen Whitehouse did not think there was any aspect about her that anyone, much less members of the opposite sex, found appealing. She had never been gifted with that sort of self-confidence.
Her insecurity could not have been more unfounded for she was one of the prettiest women in all her relations' acquaintance. Ellen's brunette hair, unlike so many of her friends', did not need to be put up in twisted ribbons at night or curled tediously every morning. It just fell in natural waves, accenting the smooth curves of her face.
"Uncle Andrews!" Ellen yelled down to him over the railing of the newly finished stern. The man in question looked up at the not-yet-seafaring vessel toward his niece.
"Ellen," he called back with a smile, "you really shouldn't be up there you know."
"Uncle Andrews you did not tell me you had met the officer's today," she answered, ignoring his comment.
He gave a good-natured chuckle before replying, "I didn't think it would interest you Ellen."
"Of course it will interest me! I will, after all, be spending most of my time with them."
"There will be plenty of other passengers Ellen. Why not talk with them?"
"All the first class passengers are so boring. They do nothing but spread gossip…and it's not even the good kind. Then I always feel so uncomfortable around the steerage and when in second class I can never decide whether to be bored or awkward. The only truly entertaining people to be with are the officers." Thomas had to laugh at that. If he could say one thing about his niece it was that she wasn't afraid to speak her mind. And most of the time she was dead-on.
"I'll have them introduced to you tomorrow. I met the captain as well you know."
"Oh you did? What was he like?"
"His name is Edward Smith. Quite a gentleman. You can meet him tomorrow with the officers if you like."
"I would like that but I wish I could have met them today."
"If you'll come down from there you may just be able to do so. They may not have left yet and I did promise them a quick tour of the ship so they might know their way around it."
"I'll be down as quickly as possible!" He laughed again as she scurried away from the railing.
"Wait down here while I go and see if they've gone yet!" the older man called, hoping she could hear him.
"Yes Uncle Andrews!" he heard her say as he walked toward the exit.
It didn't take him more than a minute to find the crew, explain that he could give them the ship's tour, and guide them back to the shipyard but, even still, Ellen was quicker. Had it been anyone else, they would still be hid away in some or other of the corridors.
"You got down here fast, my dear," Andrews stated as he moved to stand beside her. Assuming the position of her male guardian, he held out a hooked arm for her to loop her own through.
"If there is any shortcut on that ship, Uncle, I know of it."
"Of course, Ellen. How could I have forgotten?"
"I don't know but I must say that you have forgotten something else as well."
"And what is that my dear niece?"
"You have rudely disregarded the gentlemen before you. I have not yet been introduced to even one of them."
"How right you are," Andrews sighed defeatedly, "I'm ashamed for being so careless."
"You could make up for it by introducing me now," Ellen told her uncle with a sly smile.
"I believe I'll do just that," finally, he turned his attention back to the crowd of eight before him. "Gentlemen, I'd like to introduce my niece, Miss Ellen Whitehouse." The young girl bowed her head politely. Her uncle slowly introduced the brunette woman to the captain in front of her and all of his officers.
Captain Edward Smith was a tall man, or maybe it was that Ellen herself was short. Either way he looked to be in his early sixties with a full beard and mustache as purely white as the rest of his hair. The officers, however, were much younger, their age ranging from early twenties to late thirties.
Chief Officer Henry Wilde was the oldest of the seven with blue eyes and chestnut colored hair. Along with being the oldest, he was also the tallest, even in comparison to their commander. Next to him in rank and age was first officer William Murdoch. His hair matched that of Henry's but Ellen could see, though they were quite sunken in, that his eyes had a greenish tint that Officer Wilde's lacked.
Charles Lightoller, Herbert Pitman, and Joseph Boxhall (second, third, and forth officer in exactly that order) looked relatively the same, though face shape and build differed for each man. All had blue eyes and brown hair. There were slight variations obviously. Herbert's hair was more blonde and Joseph's eyes more green but overall they were the same. It was Harold Lowe and James Moody, obviously the most junior officers, who really stood out.
Both their eyes were, much like Ellen's, a deep, chocolate brown instead of what seemed to be "regulation blue." Harold's hair was brunette like the others but instead of striking an almost auburn tone, it appeared black, only to be recognized as brown in the correct light. James on the other hand was blonde, a dark blonde, yes, but a blonde nonetheless. All of them, no matter size, height, or hair color, stood at an almost attention with a rather annoying frown. All who ever needed to "stand at attention" seemed to adopt that facial expression without any regard to whether Ellen liked it or not.
"It's very nice to meet you all," she said with a smile after they had been properly introduced, "but I don't believe I've seen so many gloomy faces in all my life. Am truly that horrible to look at?"
"Why of course not Ellen," her uncle reassured her, "you are a very beautiful young woman."
"You have to say that Uncle. We are related, after all."
"On behalf of all of us," the captain finally spoke up with a smirk that broke the tension, "I would have to say that it is impossible for your uncle to lie, on this matter at least."
"You flatter me, Captain."
"His flattery is well founded, Miss Whitehouse," said one officer in a deeply Welsh accent. Officer Lowe, she recalled, was his name. Her face blushed a deep crimson. It was one thing when someone much older complimented her but it was quite another when an individual nearer to her own age did so.
"Why thank you Mr. Lowe," she said finally. She couldn't deny that he was quite handsome himself, but then so were most of the officers. It must have been some sort of requirement.
"Well," her uncle began at last, "how about that tour of the ship?"
"Ah, yes," Lightoller responded, "I'd very much like to get a feel of my surroundings before we set off."
The group finished the walk-through relatively quickly, Thomas guiding them half of the way and Ellen the other half. The men, other than her uncle of course, were quite astounded. She could see it in their faces. Most women of the higher class barely knew their way around their own home but there Miss Whitehouse stood, confidently showing them through the world's largest and most luxurious ship. Their amazement pleased her to no end.
Afterward, all the men clustered together in a sort of huddle to discuss things that needed to be done before Titanic's maiden voyage. Therefore, Ellen was left...alone. She already knew all the particulars of their conversation but being a woman, and only twenty-one years old at that, she couldn't really contribute much to the dialogue. Sighing heavily, her eyes looked up at the great ship.
"I don't think I've ever met a woman who knew quite so much about boats as you do." Ellen's head swiveled around and her chocolate orbs met with the childishly handsome face of Officer Moody. He must have snuck away from the group while the others weren't watching.
"Me either." Officer Lowe obviously did the same. She smiled at him after realizing his presence and shook her head. Slowly she turned away from the pair of them and toward the seafaring vessel with a wistful expression clouding her visage.
"I love this ship," Ellen stated simply. She shook away the dazed expression, along with the feeling it stirred, "I love all ships but so far this one's my favorite."
"You really are quite different from most first class ladies," the fifth officer informed her.
"I take that as a compliment Officer Lowe."
"Harry."
"What?" she asked confused.
"Call me Harry, Miss Whitehouse."
"I'll agree to that as long as you stop that 'Miss Whitehouse' nonsense. My name is Ellen. That goes for you too Mr. Moody."
"If your going to call him Harry, you may as well call me James."
"Very well," she said with a smile
Glancing back toward Harry, she made the mistake of looking directly into those nearly black eyes and now she couldn't seem to look away. And she was blushing…again. Harold Lowe, she quickly noted, seemed to have that effect on her. Moody, completely forgotten, glanced between the two with a smirk. He would have to tell his sister about this in his next letter. 'What an interesting voyage Titanic's will be,' he thought to himself, not realizing the irony of his statement.
Ok I hope this lived up to any expectations you had…I like it…kind of, but I'm too critical of myself. Anywho, review, review, review! I'll give you an e-cookie…lol!
