Turning the Corner
©2002 By Harriet Wilde
It was clear that it would be a beautiful day on the morrow as Wilde walked back and forth on Titanic's starboard bridge-wing. Ahead of them, the sky was a beautiful mixture of gold and copper, touched with the violets and lavenders of the few clouds that he could see. Just above the horizon now, the sun was an orange disk, turning the sea ahead to molten copper touched with shades of deep teal blue and purple.
The Chief officer smiled as the liner's bow began a sweeping turn to starboard. This maneuver, known as "Turning the Corner", would bring Titanic onto a course, which was more westerly than the course they'd been on the past couple of days. It would bring them on a more or less direct approach to New York harbour. E.J. had ordered the turn to be made half an hour later than usual in order to avoid the ice that warnings had come in about. Wilde checked his watch. Yes, five-fifty.
He looked down and over the liner's long foc'sle towards the point bow. What this?
There was a young man in a long overcoat standing up almost at the very point, and in front of him was a young woman, her shawl fluttering in the wind generated by Titanic's
passage through the water. Oh, yes, the young lady he'd seen earlier on deck with Mr. Andrews, a woman who was probably her mother, and a man who must either be her husband or fiancé. A very beautiful young lady, so chic in a coat of midnight velvet with matching lapels and cuffs of midnight silk over a lace bustier, her tiny waist accented by a wide satin sash with long streamers in back. The skirt was a sort of hobble style, of midnight silk, decorated with a couple of panels embroidered in delicate gold thread. Just below the hem, Wilde had glimpsed a pair of dainty suede shoes, whilst around her shoulders was a white silk shawl that had been painstakingly embroidered with the same gold thread as her frock. Such beautiful auburn hair, cascading down her back in a copper torrent, part of it held back by a dainty comb made to look like a butterfly. Oh, yes, it was obvious that the young lady must be sailing for home with several trunks of the very latest fashions from
Paris.
The Chief Officer frowned; he'd seen the same unhappiness in her eyes as he'd seen when she'd boarded at Southampton. Well, who could be happy with a mother like hers watching her like a hawk, probably every waking minute. Oh, yes, Wilde knew that sort of woman: her daughter was beautiful and would be an investment in the future. It was terribly common: a woman whose husband had left her little or nothing and whose daughter had caught the eye of some wealthy heir. There was no question but that this girl, unhappy or no, would have to go through with the marriage. Oh, yes, Mama would make certain that she was safely wed so that her mother would not have to worry. Of course, Mama would probably live with them, the better to keep an eye on her investment. He couldn't help feeling sorry for the young lady. So lovely and obviously so unhappy.
Looking down towards the point bow, Wilde smiled. Oh, now, that was sweet. The young lady had her arms out as if she were flying, her young man holding her at her waist to steady her. Probably the only time in her life that she'd ever been allowed any real fun.
It was nice to see her having a little happiness after the times he had seen her before, always so unhappy.
As he watched, the young lady took the young man's hands and put them in hers, pulling them tight so that they were now embracing. It looked as if they were kissing, that beautiful shawl fluttering, such a lovely sight in the fading light. He smiled as he saw her raise her hand to the back of the young man's head. Oh, my yes, quite a passionate kiss this was turning out to be!
It had been like that with Mary Catherine and him, the two of them deeply in love, right up til the day she'd been taken from him. A man was fortunate to find that once in a lifetime; Wilde didn't seriously expect it to happen twice--not to him. Not the way he'd loved his wife! He'd had his time of happiness with her and it would not be repeated.
He turned, hearing footsteps; yes, it was Lightoller, coming onto watch. Lights, as the second officer was nicknamed, seemed to have settled in and was now working well with all of the bridge officers, Wilde included. Yes, Lights was a good chap.
After taking a long last look at the two young lovers on the bow, the Chief Officer turned and walked onto Titanic's partially enclosed Captain's bridge. Time to turn the ship over to Lightoller.
©2002 By Harriet Wilde
It was clear that it would be a beautiful day on the morrow as Wilde walked back and forth on Titanic's starboard bridge-wing. Ahead of them, the sky was a beautiful mixture of gold and copper, touched with the violets and lavenders of the few clouds that he could see. Just above the horizon now, the sun was an orange disk, turning the sea ahead to molten copper touched with shades of deep teal blue and purple.
The Chief officer smiled as the liner's bow began a sweeping turn to starboard. This maneuver, known as "Turning the Corner", would bring Titanic onto a course, which was more westerly than the course they'd been on the past couple of days. It would bring them on a more or less direct approach to New York harbour. E.J. had ordered the turn to be made half an hour later than usual in order to avoid the ice that warnings had come in about. Wilde checked his watch. Yes, five-fifty.
He looked down and over the liner's long foc'sle towards the point bow. What this?
There was a young man in a long overcoat standing up almost at the very point, and in front of him was a young woman, her shawl fluttering in the wind generated by Titanic's
passage through the water. Oh, yes, the young lady he'd seen earlier on deck with Mr. Andrews, a woman who was probably her mother, and a man who must either be her husband or fiancé. A very beautiful young lady, so chic in a coat of midnight velvet with matching lapels and cuffs of midnight silk over a lace bustier, her tiny waist accented by a wide satin sash with long streamers in back. The skirt was a sort of hobble style, of midnight silk, decorated with a couple of panels embroidered in delicate gold thread. Just below the hem, Wilde had glimpsed a pair of dainty suede shoes, whilst around her shoulders was a white silk shawl that had been painstakingly embroidered with the same gold thread as her frock. Such beautiful auburn hair, cascading down her back in a copper torrent, part of it held back by a dainty comb made to look like a butterfly. Oh, yes, it was obvious that the young lady must be sailing for home with several trunks of the very latest fashions from
Paris.
The Chief Officer frowned; he'd seen the same unhappiness in her eyes as he'd seen when she'd boarded at Southampton. Well, who could be happy with a mother like hers watching her like a hawk, probably every waking minute. Oh, yes, Wilde knew that sort of woman: her daughter was beautiful and would be an investment in the future. It was terribly common: a woman whose husband had left her little or nothing and whose daughter had caught the eye of some wealthy heir. There was no question but that this girl, unhappy or no, would have to go through with the marriage. Oh, yes, Mama would make certain that she was safely wed so that her mother would not have to worry. Of course, Mama would probably live with them, the better to keep an eye on her investment. He couldn't help feeling sorry for the young lady. So lovely and obviously so unhappy.
Looking down towards the point bow, Wilde smiled. Oh, now, that was sweet. The young lady had her arms out as if she were flying, her young man holding her at her waist to steady her. Probably the only time in her life that she'd ever been allowed any real fun.
It was nice to see her having a little happiness after the times he had seen her before, always so unhappy.
As he watched, the young lady took the young man's hands and put them in hers, pulling them tight so that they were now embracing. It looked as if they were kissing, that beautiful shawl fluttering, such a lovely sight in the fading light. He smiled as he saw her raise her hand to the back of the young man's head. Oh, my yes, quite a passionate kiss this was turning out to be!
It had been like that with Mary Catherine and him, the two of them deeply in love, right up til the day she'd been taken from him. A man was fortunate to find that once in a lifetime; Wilde didn't seriously expect it to happen twice--not to him. Not the way he'd loved his wife! He'd had his time of happiness with her and it would not be repeated.
He turned, hearing footsteps; yes, it was Lightoller, coming onto watch. Lights, as the second officer was nicknamed, seemed to have settled in and was now working well with all of the bridge officers, Wilde included. Yes, Lights was a good chap.
After taking a long last look at the two young lovers on the bow, the Chief Officer turned and walked onto Titanic's partially enclosed Captain's bridge. Time to turn the ship over to Lightoller.