Chapter Seven: Emergency, No Urgency

"What were you thinking, Rose?" Mother asked her, furiously. "Do you have any idea how worried I've been?"

"You weren't worried about me. You were worried about what Cal thought." Rose scoffed.

"And for good reason- Rose, how could you act like this?"

Silence.

"Don't ignore me, Rose. You've disgraced me, hurt Cal, and made a complete fool of yourself! What do you have to say for this?" Mother cried.

Rose had nothing to say for it, she was still thinking.

Jack could've stolen it. But would he? Had the whole thing been a scam, because she had money?

It did not seem like him, and she wanted to believe him more than anything. But could Cal really be so cruel as to frame him? She had never liked Cal, but she knew him. . . and arresting someone for no reason was. . . too horrible, even for him. Had she been rash in her decision making? Was there the slightest chance that Jack's devotion to her was a ploy to get that stupid diamond? But if she could not trust Jack, then she could not trust anyone. And she loved him. . . And until now she was positive he loved her back. But that chance, the chance he'd stolen it, the chance he was using her, scared her. . .

"Ruth." Cal said from the doorway. "I'd like a word with my fiance. . . alone."

"I warned you." Mother whispered furiously, walking into her room. He leaned against the doorway for what seemed like forever, and she could see him thinking about what he was going to do with her. Rose waited, her throat tightening in apprehension, wondering what he would do next as he walked over to her, and gave her a long, furious, measuring, stare. And then he slapped her. Hard. And it hurt. No one had ever struck her before, and it had taken her by surprise. . . Stinging, smarting, shocking, humiliating surprise.

"Oh, it is a little slut, isn't it? Will you look at me when I'm talking to you?!" He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her when there was knock at the door, and two stewards walked in.

"Mr. Hockley?" One of them asked.

"Sir, I've been told to ask you to put your lifebelts on and come up to-"

"Not now, we're busy." Cal snarled.

The steward ignored him.

"I said not now." Cal repeated angrily.

"I'm sorry to inconvenience you Mr. Hockley, but it's Captain's orders. Now please, dress warmly. It's quite cold out tonight. Now, may I suggest coats and top hats?"

He pulled out two lifejackets from on top of the wardrobe, and Cal smiled humorlessly at her, as if to say that their talk was far from over.

"This is ridiculous." He muttered, walking out of the room to get his coat. Rose massaged her cheek, which was still smarting and now sore.

"Not to worry, miss." The steward said, thinking she was crying. "I'm sure it's just a precaution."

"Everybody up!" The steward yelled into a third class cabin, yanking life-jackets from a closet and turning the lights on.


"Lifebelts on!" Cora Cartmel, tucked cozily into bed with her doll, squinted when they came on, wondering why the man was being so loud.

"What's he yelling about?" Her father asked dazedly, sitting up in bed, confused as his daughter.

"Lifebelts on!" The steward yelled to the people in the hall. Men, women, children, peeked out from their cabins, all dressed in their night clothes, barely awake and confused.

"What's the ruckus?" One man asked the steward.

"Just put your lifebelts on!" He replied harshly, and his fellow stefwards were just as helpful.


Harold Bride and Jack Phillips had been working in the communications room when they felt the tremor. Neither had been concerned, since they had been feeling quite overworked, and had been dealing with the several ice warnings. But minutes after it, to their surprise, Captain Smith walked in, and showed them a slip of paper bearing a code he wanted transmitted to ships in the area through morse-code.

"CQD?" Phillips asked worriedly as he read it. "Sir?"

"That's right. CQD." Smith said gravely, taking his hat off. "The distress call. That's our position." He pointed to the paper, sighing. "Tell whoever responds that we're going down by the head. We need immediate assistance."

He put his hat back on and left Bride and Phillips shocked.

"Blimey." Bride muttered, and Phillips was already tapping out the code.

"Do you think we ought to use that new transmission, SOS?" He asked. "They might pay more attention to us. . . Besides. . ." He laughed. "We may not get another chance to send it."


Thomas Andrews walked onto the deck, watching the crewman uncover the lifeboats and prepare them to be launched. But he did not see the passengers. Irritated, he walked across the deck to one of the officers. Didn't they understand that the ship was sinking?

"Keep lowering!" Mr. Wilde told his men, as they lowered a lifeboat suspended by davits on deck. "Keep lowering!"

"Mr. Wilde!" Andrews shouted, and the officer turned his way. "Mr. Wilde, where are the passengers?"

"We moved them back inside." Wilde replied, smiling. "It's too cold and noisy for them. . . you there!" He blew his whistle, addressing another one of the crew. "Get down here and help me with these lines!"

Andrews sighed and checked his watch. Time that they didn't have was slowly ticking away.

The dining hall was even worse- a sea of well-dressed people in lifejackets, laughing and talking- unaware of the danger they were in. Alexander's Ragtime Band was being played by the quartet, and as he made his way towards the staircase, a steward carrying champagne on a tray said, "Care for a drink sir?"

"No." Andrews replied, shaking his head, and wondering how long this carefree state would last once they believed the ship was sinking. . .


"Hey, sonny!" Molly Brown asked, stopping a steward, who was going from group to group, reminding people to put their lifebelts on.

She was already wearing hers, but was wondering why in the world she was here and not in her stateroom finishing her book.

"What's doing? You got us all trussed up here and now we're cooling our heels."

"Sorry, ma'am." He stammered. "Let me go find out."

And he scampered off.

"I don't think anybody knows what's going on around here." Molly muttered.


The three of them walked into the crowded entry hall, Mother being trailed by Trudy and Anne, their maids, Rose pensive and serious, and Cal still complaining about the "lifeboat drill."

"It's the dadgum British doing everything by the book." He muttered angrily.

"There's no need for language, Mr. Hockley." Mother chided, as she slipped her gloves on- she was the only one of them wearing a life vest.

She was acting terribly smug, and this annoyed Rose, who was the only one who seemed to realize how much damage had been done to the ship.

"Go back and turn the heaters on in our rooms. I'd like a cup of tea when I return." Mother told the maids as she adjusted her hat.

"Yes, ma'am." Trudy said, curtsying.

Rose saw Mr. Andrews mounting the stairs.

Finally, someone who knows what's going on. She thought, following him, and tapping his shoulder.

He turned around, worried face softening when he saw her.

"Mr. Andrews." She said seriously. "I saw the iceberg, and I see it in your eyes. Please tell me the truth."

Mr. Andrews sighed, walking back down the stairs.

"The ship will sink." He said quietly.

"You're certain?" Rose gasped, putting her hand over her mouth in shock.

"Yes. In an hour or so. . . all of this will be at the bottom of the Atlantic."

"What?" Cal asked, seeming to appear from no where.

"Please, tell only who you must." Mr. Andrews told her urgently. "I don't want to be responsible for a panic, and get to a boat quickly, don't wait. . . you remember what I told you about the boats?"

"Yes," Rose nodded. "I understand."

She understood but she was terrified at the realization that half of the people on Titanic would die tonight. . . perhaps people she was looking at now. . . And her thoughts turned to Jack again.

"You knew about this, didn't you?" Cal asked her, when Mr. Andrews had gone.

Rose ignored him.

"Didn't you?" His voice was even, but Rose could tell he was angry.

"We tried to warn you." She said tonelessly.

He went white with rage at the mere allusion to Jack, and he pursed his lips so hard Rose couldn't see them.


The master-at-arms had taken him to a little cabin below decks (It must have been one of the officer's quarters or a study perhaps) and handcuffed him around a white piece of pipe next to a port hole in the left hand corner of the room. He had not said a word since they left the cabin, and he did not, even now, protest his innocence further. If Rose didn't believe him, than no one else would, and Lovejoy was in on it.

"Sir, they need you in the second-class pursers office." A crewman said from the doorway to the master-at-arms. "There's a big mob up there."

The master-at-arms hesitated, not wanting to leave Jack unattended, but Lovejoy, pulling out a gun said, "Go on, I'll keep an eye on him."

"Aye, right." The master-at-arms agreed, leaving the two of them alone. Lovejoy sat down on a chair, still holding the gun.

"You know I didn't do it." Jack told him quietly.

"Spare me the speech." Lovejoy retorted.

"You realize that this could mean prison for life." Jack said, and even as he spoke it dawned on him as a possibility. Would he get a trial when they docked? All evidence pointed to him. . . it wasn't like he could afford a good lawyer. How far would Cal pursue this?

"Could?" Lovejoy asked sarcastically. "I wouldn't get optimistic."

"And you're all right with all this?" He asked angrily.

"I'm delighted, with all this."

"Why?"

"I know your type. If you don't deserve imprisonment for this, than I'm sure you do for something else." Lovejoy said, and Jack could've sworn there was a glint of malice in his eyes.


"Sir!" Harold Bride said, walking up to Smith where he stood on the bridge.

"Carpathia says they re making 17 knots. Full steam for them, sir! She's the only one who responded? Smith asked.

"The only one close, sir. She says they can be here in four hours."

"Four hours?" Smith repeated. Andrews said that they had two at most.

"Thank you, Bride." He said dazedly.

He could barely believe what had happened. He had been in this industry for over twenty years, and nothing like this had ever happened to him before. Titanic was supposed to be unsinkable. . . but she was sinking. And half of the passengers were going to die- more than half, perhaps. No one was coming. . . no one could help them. They were alone out here in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, and here they would die. . . and their blood was on his hands.

"Sir, we are swung out and ready, sir." Lightoller informed him, but Smith barely heard.

"Hadn't we better get the women and children into the boats, sir?" He asked.

"Yes, we do." Smith replied quietly.

"Sir?"

"Women and children first, yes." He said, and then he retreated to the wireless room.

"Yes, sir."


"Right here." Said Wallace Hartely to his fellow band members as they set their instruments on the deck amid the passengers. "Like the captain said, boys, nice and cheery so there's no panic. . . Wedding Dance.


Tommy and Fabrizio maneuvered through the crowded third-class corridors to the main stairwell.

"Where's Jack?" Tommy asked him.

Fabrizio shrugged. "No clue- haven't seen him since this afternoon."

"Put your lifebelts on!" A steward yelled, walking past the two and handing them lifebelts.

Tommy took one and put it on, but Fabrizio did not. The main stairwell was crowded with so many people that the overflow was backed into the hallways. Tommy pushed through several people to the top of the staircase, where a large metal gate was blocking the doorway, and a flustered steward stood outside of it with a gun.

"It is not time to go up to the boats yet! Please, stay calm!" He exclaimed. "Look, please, make sure, everyone, that you've got your lifebelts on. And gentlemen, allow the woman and children to come to the front."

"What are we doing, Mommy?" A little Irish boy asked his mother.

"We're just waiting, dear." She replied gently to him and his older sister, trying to hide the concern from her eyes. "When they've finished putting the first-class people in the boats. . . they'll start with us, and we want to be all ready, won't we?"

Her daughter nodded, and she drew them closer to her, hoping that what she'd said was true.


Lovejoy had been playing with his gun, and had unloaded the bullets several times. He set one of them on the far side of the table he was sitting at, and watched it roll back to him, and then repeated the motion. Jack watched, painfully aware that the bullet was only rolling down the table because the ship was tilting as water filled it. Going to prison was starting to look like a best case scenario.

"You know. Lovejoy said, catching the bullet and reloading the gun. "I do believe this ship may sink."

Jack said nothing.

"I've been asked to give you this. . . token of our appreciation." Lovejoy told him, standing from the chair and walking over to Jack.

They looked at each other for about a split second, a split second in which Jack felt a spark of pure hatred toward Lovejoy for the cheap shot about to be fired. Lovejoy punched him in the stomach so hard he doubled over.

"Compliments of Mr. Caledon Hockley." He heard Lovejoy say through the pain.

And he heard the door close. He looked up, eyes still watering from the iron-clad punch. Lovejoy was gone. The ship was sinking, and no one knew he was down there with no way out.