Chapter Two
Open Sea
The incident with the New York delayed the voyage, so the Titanic was an hour late arriving at Cherbourg, France, that evening. The little port was much too small for a ship the size of the massive new liner, so she anchored offshore while two tenders ferried the passengers from the mainland to the ship. Curiosity drew many people to the decks to watch the newcomers board. The sea was rather rough, and the boats were bobbing rather alarmingly in the water alongside the Titanic, which was so sturdy that it was easy to forget she was a ship and not a small island.
Hinrik stood between his father and Heather, looking down at the boarding passengers with mild interest. He suddenly straightened as his eyes fell on a bald head. The body attached to it was big and burly, and the man sported a huge golden mustache and a slight limp. "Father," he said, pointing at the man, "isn't that Gunnar Benton?"
Stanford followed his gaze and frowned for a moment. Then his face cleared. "By God, I think it is!" he said, and without another word he turned and hurried back into the ship. Hinrik followed closely, practically dragging a confused Heather behind him.
They came to a stop at the base of the grand staircase, where they came face-to-face with the burly mustached man. His face lit up on seeing them. "Stanford!" he called jovially, his accent even thicker than that of his friend. He hurried forward and embraced Stanford in a tight hug. "It's been too long!"
Stanford laughed and pulled back. "Indeed it has, Gunnar. I didn't know you were in France."
Gunnar shrugged. "Yeah, thought I'd check it out, see what all the fuss is about." He held up one hand as if to share a secret and added, "Between you and me, it's not all it's cracked up to be."
Stanford chuckled and gestured back toward Hinrik, who stepped forward, smiling. Gunnar looked stunned. "Hinrik?!" he gasped. "My God, you've grown! Last I saw you, you were a talking fishbone!"
Hinrik laughed, mildly surprised at how easily the sound bubbled forth from his chest. "It's good to see you again, Gunnar," he said, shaking the hand of the man who had been like a second father to him as a child. "How have you been?"
"Oh fine, can't complain," Gunnar replied airily. "How about you?"
Hinrik opened his mouth to say, "I'm all right," but the words died on the way to his mouth. It was a lie. He wasn't all right. Not even close. "Oh, well, you know," he said vaguely. "The same, I guess."
Gunnar's smile seemed to flicker for a moment, but it was back so quickly that Hinrik couldn't be sure. "Well this is going to be a much better voyage than I thought, with you two aboard," he said. "I'm sure we'll all have great fun."
Hinrik nodded, but before he could speak he heard someone clear her throat pointedly from behind him. He glanced back and saw Heather watching the exchange with raised eyebrows. Hinrik felt his heart sink slightly.
"Heather," he said, taking her arm, "this is Gunnar Benton, an old friend of my family's. He's kind of like my favorite uncle."
Heather smiled sweetly, though the expression didn't reach her eyes. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Benton." Gunnar nodded his head in acknowledgment.
"And Gunnar," Hinrik continued, "this is Heather Owens, my fiancée."
Gunnar's jaw dropped. "Fiancée?" he repeated, and then he laughed. "God Above, travel the world a little and everything changes behind your back!"
Hinrik laughed again, though it didn't sound quite so natural this time.
"Heather's father is accompanying us," Stanford spoke up. "I believe he is in the dining saloon."
"Perfect!" Gunnar said, clapping his hands together. "I'm starving. Let's go."
"Yes, let's," Heather agreed, turning with her arm still locked in Hinrik's. "Come on, dear."
Gunnar caught the barest hint of a scowl on Hinrik's face as he turned to walk with his fiancée toward the saloon. It had flitted across his features so fast that it may not have been there at all. But Gunnar knew Hinrik well enough to recognize that he was covering up some pretty extreme emotions.
"So," he said conversationally, falling in beside Stanford as they followed the young couple, "when did this happen? The engagement?"
"About a month ago," Stanford replied. "They met at a party and hit it off from the start."
"A month?" Gunnar repeated. "Seems like a short amount of time. Is Hinrik sure about all this?"
Stanford shrugged unconcernedly. "You know how he is, Gunnar. A hopeless romantic. He insisted he didn't want to wait another minute before asking her to be his bride."
Gunnar frowned. Hopeless romantic? Yes, he could see that. But Heather wasn't at all the kind of person he'd imagine Hinrik might have fallen in love with. He'd only just met her but he could tell that she was stiff and cool, whereas Hinrik was easygoing and relaxed. Surely this wasn't a good match. What was Hinrik thinking?
This question plagued Gunnar throughout dinner, though he didn't dare ask it aloud. All evening long he kept sneaking glances at Hinrik when the young man thought no one was looking at him, and it was easy to see that his affections for Heather were merely a false front, and not a very convincing one at that.
So what was the boy really up to?
…
The Titanic stopped at Queenstown, Ireland, the next morning to pick up her final load of passengers, and at 1:30 that afternoon she raised her anchor for the last time and set sail toward New York, with nothing ahead of them but open ocean. Ireland slowly shrank until it was no more than a speck on the horizon, and soon after it disappeared altogether. The sun shone brightly, reflecting off the crystal blue waters beneath them as the ship cut through the sea like a hot knife through butter.
Emerging from the third class common area below, Astrid and Riley bounded up the stairs and ran to the very bow of the ship. Astrid inhaled deeply, reveling in the salty smell of the sea air that filled her lungs. "Good-bye Ireland, and hello Atlantic!"
Riley laughed and leaned over the rail. "Wow, we're really moving fast!" she remarked, watching as the prow cut through the water, sending up white spray.
"Yeah," Astrid agreed, following her gaze. "At this rate, we'll reach America in no time!" She suddenly gasped and pointed. "Look! A dolphin!" Sure enough, a dolphin was swimming just ahead of the ship as it steamed westward, just managing to keep pace with the liner's speed. Suddenly another appeared, and another, and another. Soon there was a whole pod of five or six dolphins darting before them, crisscrossing in front of the leviathan that seemed right at home with them. One of them, the first one Astrid had spotted, rose to the surface and leapt from the water. "Wow!" Astrid breathed as she watched it descend once more. It had barely reentered the water before it jumped again, crying out apparently for the simple joy of doing so.
Feeling elated, Astrid jumped up so that her feet rested on the lowest rail. She whooped in delight as the wind tossed her blond braid back, blowing her hair out of her face.
"I can see the Statue of Liberty already!" Riley said, pointing toward the horizon. "It's very small, of course," she added with a faint laugh.
Usually a joke like that would have made Astrid roll her eyes. But she was feeling so excited and euphoric that she just laughed. Then she flung her arms out to the side and yelled at the top of her lungs, "I'm the queen of the world!"
Riley looked up at her and shook her head. "You're the queen of the Funny Farm is what you are."
Astrid reached down and punched Riley on the arm, but her smile never faded. "Well it's thanks to this queen that we're even here."
Riley nodded thoughtfully. "Hmm…good point." Then she bowed and added, "Your Majesty."
Her cheek earned her another punch to the arm.
…
While Astrid and Riley enjoyed their freedom on the prow of the ship, Hinrik was seated in the Palm Court Restaurant thoroughly wishing he was anywhere else in the world.
"I understand that she's the largest moving object made by the hand of man in all history," Gunnar was saying from across the table, addressing the table at large. "Is that right?"
"Yes," Grant confirmed, nodding. "And by far the most luxurious. The White Star Line offers comfort that no other company can provide. Oh sure, Cunard ships have the advantage of speed, but you won't find a swimming pool on board the Lusitania."
"And she's sturdy, too," Stanford contributed. "On most ships you sway back and forth till you're seasick. But on this ship, it's like being on dry ground."
A waiter arrived to take their orders. Hinrik opened his mouth to speak, but Heather cut swiftly across him. "We'll both have the grilled mutton chops." Then, almost as an afterthought, she turned to Hinrik and asked, "You like mutton, right darling?"
Hinrik, not trusting his voice, offered her a tight-lipped smile. Gunnar watched the exchange with raised eyebrows. "Are you going to cut his meat for him too there, lass?" he asked with a chuckle.
Heather scowled at him and Hinrik's face reddened. Gunnar cleared his throat and abruptly changed the subject. "So…why the name Titanic? What does it mean?"
"I expect it's because of her size," Stanford mused before turning to give his order to the waiter.
"Yes, she's certainly big enough to earn the name," Grant chuckled.
"She's actually named after the Titans of Greek mythology," Hinrik spoke up, glad to actually be discussing something he was interested in. The others all turned to look at him as he continued, "The Titans were godlike beings that challenged the gods on Mount Olympus for total power. They were defeated and, for their arrogance, cast down into the underworld for eternity. So really, naming a ship after the Titans probably isn't the best idea. It's like a slap in the face of God, the ultimate act of arrogance…" He faltered, suddenly embarrassed. He hadn't meant to go that far. He'd meant to merely give an explanation of the Titans, not condemn the men who had built and named her.
The others were all silent in surprise. Heather was glaring at him and Grant looked disapproving. Stanford had his face hidden in his hand, though Hinrik couldn't tell if this was out of embarrassment or to hide his amusement. Gunnar, on the other hand, was chuckling.
Feeling his ears go red, he muttered quickly, "Excuse me," and rose from the table, walking to the exit as fast as he dared go.
"That boy needs to learn his place," Grant huffed once Hinrik was out of earshot.
Gunnar was still guffawing in amusement. "Oh, he's a pistol, all right," he said, though he certainly didn't see that as a bad thing. Turning to Heather, he added, "You sure you can handle him?" There was a part of him that sincerely hoped she couldn't.
As if she could read his mind, Heather smiled coolly and replied, "Oh, I think I can."
…
Out on the poop deck at the stern, an area designated for third class passengers, Astrid watched as Riley chased Terry around. "You take that back!" she shouted.
"Never!" Terry called over his shoulder, turning sharply in order to avoid running into the ship's rail.
"You little…I'll get you!" Riley growled.
"What?" Terry panted, glancing back. "I just said that they call ships 'she' because they have big sterns! I can't help it if it's true!"
Riley let out a wordless snarl of rage and leapt, tackling her brother to the deck and grinding his face into the wood. Terry grunted and shouted, "Ow! Huh…this wood's really smooth…"
At that moment, a crewman holding the leashes of three small dogs came by, ignoring the passengers as if they weren't even there. Terry watched them for a moment before saying, "Hey, what are those dogs doing here?"
"They're first class dogs, you idiot," Riley said, finally relenting in her attack and standing up. "They bring them up here to walk and…you know, do their business."
Terry blinked, nonplussed. Then he suddenly realized that this area of the ship was called the poop deck for a reason. He leapt up with a cry of disgust, rubbing the cheek that had been pressed to the wood a moment before with his sleeve. "Eew, eeeeew," he moaned. "That's gross, that's really really gross!"
Astrid shook her head and turned to look out at the sea, but a flurry of motion caught her eye. Glancing up, she inhaled sharply. A handsome young man dressed in a fine suit walked up to the rail of the B Deck promenade, facing the stern and looking toward the horizon. His auburn hair was slicked back on his head, but as Astrid watched he reached up and ran his hands through his locks, intentionally mussing it up. When he was done, his untidy hair blew in the breeze, framing his face. Astrid felt her heart stutter.
And then it bounded when the man glanced down at the poop deck and met eyes with her.
It only lasted a second, but while their eyes were locked Astrid felt her entire world shift, as though the ship underneath her had suddenly lurched to the side. She shook herself mentally as his eyes returned to the sea. She was being ridiculous. Why on earth should seeing a man from first class (because he was very obviously from first class) change anything? He was just another man sailing to America like she was. There was nothing special about him that made him any different from the other passengers aboard.
Still, she found she couldn't tear her eyes away from him.
She gasped faintly when he looked at her again. This time, they held each other's gaze. He was too far away for her to get a good look at his expression, but his posture was relaxed. That must mean he didn't find her staring off-putting, right?
The man then smiled and nodded his head to her. Astrid felt herself blushing as she raised her hand and waved weakly in return.
Riley, who had been watching this silent exchange, scoffed. "Forget it, Astrid," she said. "I mean, yeah he's good-looking, but he's out of your league."
Astrid ignored her friend, continuing to stare at the man, even as a young woman with black hair appeared and grabbed him by the arm. He broke eye contact when he turned to look at the newcomer, who immediately started speaking. Astrid couldn't hear what was being said, but the woman's angry expression told her that it definitely wasn't a pleasant chat. The man tugged his arm from her grip, said a few curt words, and walked away. The woman said something to his retreating back, but he didn't pause and was out of sight in moments. Only then did Astrid turn to look at Riley, who was staring at her as though concerned for her sanity.
"You okay there?" Riley asked.
"Of course I am," Astrid insisted. "Why wouldn't I be?"
Riley didn't answer, and Astrid looked out at the ocean, thinking. Forget it, Astrid, she told herself sternly. You're not the type to get all sentimental when you see a guy. You're a realist. So face the fact that Riley's right. He's way out of your league. Besides, you'll probably never see him again.
Far from soothing her, this thought filled her with a sadness she couldn't even begin to comprehend.
A/N: Fun fact: lamb would not have been available on the Titanic for lunch. That was a dinner-only item. But they did serve mutton. I read that and said, "Perfect! Mutton gets referenced all the time in the Dragons universe!" Who knew a blooper could work so well to my advantage?
Hope you're enjoying it!
