*NEW* AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry about that rushed note before. If you didn't read it before I posted this new one, that's okay, you didn't miss anything. Anyway, I had more to say-- I was in a hurry because I had exactly two minutes to upload the chapter and get everything right before I had to be in bed with the light off at ten o'clock (parents. . . gotta love 'em.). By the way, this isn't really my favorite chapter. . . I don't think I did a good a job with it as some of the other ones. However, I could be wrong. Tell me! lol Anyway, as before, THANK YOU ALL SOOOOO MUCH for the reviews!!!! Glad you liked it. . . and sorry I made you cry. But at least I know I'm doing my job right. Serina, thanks for the suggestions, but no promises. Heh. ;) Anyway. . . okay that's the third time I've used that word so far. . . please review if you get the chance. Thanks again, everybody!
TEN
"Je-sus." I breathed quietly, gaping at the stern. In the time it had taken for me to get to and leave the first class smoking room, the rear end of the ship had risen almost entirely out of the water. Fighting back panic, I looked out over the railing, at the port side of the ship. I'd checked the other side already, and no boats seemed close enough to try for it. However, on this side, there was a boat only about three hundred yards away. It seemed pretty far, but was a hell of a lot closer than any other lifeboat had been. Plus. . . as I squinted, it became apparent that they weren't trying to row away from the ship.
Taking in a deep breath, and as the band finished "Nearer My God to Thee", I locked my hands around the railing; within seconds my fingers felt almost numb. Stepping onto the first rung of the rail, I threw my other leg to the other side and balanced there. As I stripped off my warm jacket, I realized that the band hadn't begun another song, which meant that they were probably making a break for it. Go for it, guys. I thought.
I tossed my jacket to the deck, and the bitter cold air washed over me. A convulsive shiver ran through my spine; I tried not to think of the effect that the water would have on me once I re-surfaced in the lifeboat. Not only would I be without a plain jacket, but I'd be soaking wet.
I looked around one final time, contemplating just giving up and running back to the first class smoking room to Thomas. But I knew that that reunion would be nowhere near as sweet as the one twenty minutes ago had been. He'd be even more disappointed-- in me, and at my cowardice, plus the fact that I wasn't able to get his plans delivered.
My breath clouded in the cold air as I felt the deck rising so slowly under me, as I watched the mad scramble of people rushing toward the stern. It was horrible to have to watch this powerful masterpiece of architecture, luxury, and technology die so slowly and painfully. Especially when it was the pride and joy of the man I'd have married if the situation were any different.
Reminded of Thomas, I checked the large pocket in my dungarees to make sure that his plans were still safe and sound, buttoned into the pocket. As an afterthought, I slipped his ring off of my thumb and placed it in with the plans, tucking it into a fold of them just to be sure that it wouldn't slip out while I was swimming for the lifeboat.
Finally, I drew in a deep breath and stared down into the black water, letting my other leg over the rail. Lights from portholes under the water cast eerie beams of light into the dark sea, and the waves were considerably calm. As I shifted on the railing to face the sea, I mused, Wonder why the power's still on? My stomach suddenly did a back flip as I realized that Chief Engineer Bell and several of the workers were probably still down in the engine room, keeping the power on as long as they could so that the passengers left behind could see. My hands trembled-- another knot of crewmembers that wouldn't make it.
I turned my attention toward the sea again, and gulped, hating to leave now, trying to convince myself that I was doing the right thing. Staring into the water that would close over me in mere seconds, I knew that this was the point of no return, and it was now or never. "I love you, Thomas Andrews," I whispered, closing my eyes. "And Murdoch and Tommy. . . I'll see you two the same day I finally see Thomas. Jack and Fabrizio. . . I hope you can't hear me."
I tightened my grip on the railing, silently thanking the RMS Titanic for the adventure, the romance, and the friendship. Then I bent my knees, preparing to--
"Carrie!"
I froze, nearly stumbling, shocked at the sudden call for me. I looked up, twisting around almost painfully to see who was standing beside me. For a fleeting instant I thought it might be Thomas, but the voice was deeper, and more roughened. Behind me was a crewmember, uniformed and red-cheeked from the cold. "You're Carrie?" he said quickly.
"Yes," I said, wondering what was going on. "Can I help you?"
The crewmember pointed toward the bow. "Mr. Lightoller saw you, miss. He asked if I could ask for your help."
I looked in the direction that he was pointing. Far to my left, Second Officer Lightoller was hanging onto a line, on top of the overturned collapsible, shouting directions at the crewmen who were frantically trying to cut the lines of the collapsible.
I swallowed. I didn't want to stay, but I still didn't want to leave. Quickly, I weighted my options. In leaving, I'd get to a boat faster, but I'd have done nothing to help anyone when I had the chance. Yet if I stayed, the ship might go out from under me before I'll even get a chance to swim to safety. Plus there was a greater risk of being killed. . . which, then again, would reunite Thomas and I.
No, damn it! Quit thinking like that!
I looked back at the crewman and took in a deep breath. "Give me a hand over?" I asked him.
"Of course." he helped me over the rail; my feet hit the deck and I forced them into my shoes again, quickly tying the laces. I then left my jacket where it was to give me more freedom of movement, and raced toward Collapsible B with the crewman. "D'you have a pocket knife?" he called to me over the din of shouting passengers and rushing waters.
"Actually, yeah." I replied, reaching into my pocket to find one of the two penknives that had been included in the stack of goods Jack and Fabrizio and I had won from the poker game the other day. Jesus, it seemed like centuries ago that we'd dashed from the pub to board the Titanic. Fabrizio has the other knife, I thought somewhere in the back of my mind. Hope he found a way to put it to use.
There were people swarming like flies around Collapsible B, and water was already sliding up the deck; the crewman and I sloshed through it to get to the lines. It was up to my shins and absolutely freezing, and a shiver wracked my spine. Sixth Officer Moody was in the background, also shouting instructions. I found Lightoller again, and watched as he slid down one of the lines, splashing to a stop, before wading over. If he noticed the cold, he didn't show any sign of it.
"Cut any line you can reach!" he hollered over the noise, eyes struggling to keep the panic hidden. "Just cut the damn thing!"
"Shouldn't we right it?!" I yelled back.
"There's no time!" Lightoller told me. "D'you have a--" I held up my penknife before he even finished. He nodded, clamping a strong hand around my shoulder for a moment. "Thank you," though rough, his voice was rich with gratitude. I nodded in reply, then glanced toward the davits.
Half the falls were hooked to the boat; it was apparent that righting the boat had been tried, but now that the seawater was swirling around our knees, there was no more time left at all. I pushed final thoughts of Thomas, Jack, Fabrizio, Tommy, and Murdoch from my mind, and launched myself onto the collapsible, reaching for a line. I sawed my knife through the first line; it took a good fifteen seconds. I could feel the boat bobbing underneath me in the waves. Jesus. I thought. What the hell am I doing here? I'm supposed to be swimming for a lifeboat!
But this was way better than swimming for a boat-- at least I was being useful.
I yelled out then, nearly getting knocked off the boat by a man trying to climb onto it. I gripped another part of the falls, again sawing my knife back and forth. I was shivering badly by now-- not only was I scared out of my wits, but it was so goddam freezing. I cannot even begin to describe to you how cold I felt. My fingers were nearly numb; I don't know how I was holding on to the falls. My jacket was long gone, and my workpants were almost completely soaked through with the icy water. My Oxford blouse wasn't doing a lot of good at all. It was fairly damp from the sea spray, and water was dripping out of my hair.
Two lines left. . . stop pushing, dammit. . . one line. . . almost there. . . my side of the boat bobbed down several inches. Lightoller, now treading water, came alongside the boat, trying to grab onto the rudder. I offered my numb hand to him; he reached up to take it, splashing water over my knees.
Without warning, from perhaps twenty yards away, there was an ear-popping snapping sound, and then an enormous KER-THWAP!!
Lightoller and I both looked, him still halfway off of the boat. Neither of us could see anything save the remains of a splash; for a moment we glanced back at each other, completely confused, each hoping that the other would be able to identify what had ker-thwapped. But then the snap and the KER-THWAP!! sounded again, and this time we were both able to look quick enough.
It was a cable.
For a moment I had no idea where it came from as it snapped into the water with the force of a thousand whips, but then I realized-- the cables holding the forward funnel up were snapping. Which would mean that the taut cables on the other side would be pulling at the funnel, which had nothing to keep it up on the other side. . . which would mean that the funnel had to fall.
Lightoller and I gaped open-mouthed as it did just that, bending and ripping off of its anchorage from the base. It fell slowly, heavily, metal tearing away and creating a grinding, screeching cacophony of noise. My heart leaped into my throat; I nearly cried out, frozen with terror-- it looked for a moment that the funnel was going to fall directly onto us. But it hit the water only about thirty yards away, smashing onto a whole slew of swimming passengers. Waves created by the funnel gushed out in all directions.
"Oh, shi--" Lightoller was cut off mid profanity as the enormous wave surged toward us, picking up the boat and throwing it a slow fifty yards further. I tightened my grip on Lightoller's right hand as his left struggled to grasp part of the rudder to keep him from getting washed off. Water flew everywhere and crashed onto us; it was literally pouring off of me in streams when the wave subsided. It was cold enough to clear my head and send some extra adrenaline shots to my nerves; I helped to pull Lightoller onto the underside of the boat.
We were now over the open ocean, instead of the ship (which was only a good twenty feet away), and men were struggling here and there to climb onto the boat. Lightoller, spitting out a mouthful of seawater and half choking, tried to thank me; I whacked him on the back (his cough calmed) and gave him a "you're welcome". It was then that someone else climbed on, knocking into me in the process. "Shit!" I hollered as I lost my balance. My knees slid painfully over the ridges in the boat, and before I could stop myself, I tumbled into the water.
The water wasn't that big of a shock, considering I'd just been saturated with it moments before, but I still nearly gasped at how icy it was. I launched myself to the surface and took in a deep gulp of air, which drove sharply into my lungs. Jesus! It seemed ten times as cold as it had been when it covered my ankles in the boiler room earlier. "Carrie!" Lightoller was hanging onto the rudder, holding out his hand toward me. "Grab a'hold!"
For a moment I reached out toward his hand, then stopped. The shouting and weeping was buzzing in my ears. "I think I'll find another boat," I called up to him, treading water. My arms felt frozen.
"Are you crazy!? There isn't another one for--" he froze and jerked his hand back, clinging to the rudder as a wave made the boat buck slightly.
"I'd better go," I told him. "More room for the men. I can make it to another boat."
His eyes were doubtful. I chose not to wait; I began to strike out in the direction of the boat I'd seen earlier. "See you. And thanks, Mr. Lightoller."
"That's Charles to you!" he called back, even though his eyes showed nothing but a heavy sadness. "Good-bye-- good luck."
When I'd put some distance between myself and the collapsible, I turned around to look back at the ship. The entire stern was now completely out of the water, and rising steadily but slowly. My God, was it frightening. I absolutely cannot put into words how god-damned horrifying it was to watch. I actually stopped, treading water, just gaping at the massive ass of boat pointing at the sky. My breath caught in my chest as I just stared at it. Suddenly I realized that it would probably look even more eerie under the water, and before I could stop myself, I dropped beneath the waves.
My eyes immediately hurt from the saltwater, and the fact that the water was just so damn cold, but when I understood what I was seeing, I couldn't close them.
The Titanic, already nearly halfway under water, still had all of its lights on, which continued to glow even under the surface, dimly lighting the enormous submerged bow. I nearly gasped at how frightening the sight was, to see the goddam front of the ship all ready to sink into the black abyss below and around it. I mean, think about it-- the ship just moments away from disappearing forever into the black depths of an entirely unknown world, yet still lit, with nothing supporting the ship underneath. When it finally went under, it would go, and it would go fast.
I suddenly remembered that breathing was a necessity of living. Rising to the surface, I gasped in air, which again bit at my lungs. Then, because I could already feel my limbs threatening to go numb, I immediately struck out in the direction of the lifeboat.
The cold was all I could think about, though. The biting, almost painfully cold water, and my wet head in the freezing air. Great. I thought sarcastically. Should have stayed with Lightoller. Even if I do make it to the boat, I'm going to die of hypothermia.
Oh, well. said another part of my mind. At least I'll be back with Thomas.
I forced myself to think of something other than the cold and Thomas. Something that didn't have to do with the ship behind me, or Murdoch, or Jack or the band or a hundred other things. Heat. I thought longingly. Think of a nice, sunny day on the beach. . . maybe in Maine. . . or Florida. . . or the Hawaiian Islands. . .
Left arm, right arm, keep kicking, keep breathing-- but not too deeply. Don't look back at the ship, don't listen to the shouting and screaming and sobbing, just focus on that lifeboat and the thought of a nice afternoon in the sun.
Once or twice I thought of how I wasn't swimming in a pool, this was the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, and it was two miles down to the ocean floor. The same ocean floor on which the ship of dreams would dock for the last time.
Left arm, right arm. Keep kicking. Don't slow down and don't speed up. Turn your head to the side, spit out the water, check to make sure you're still heading for the boat. Stay calm; panic when you have time for it. Don't pay attention to the cold.
One arm over the other, turn your head to the side, breathe, keep kicking, don't go too far under. Check to see you're still heading for that boat. Breathe. Calm down. Ignore the cold. Ignore the cold. Ignore the goddam bloody cold.
Without warning, a voice cut across the black water and over the noise from the ship: "Passenger ahoy!"
I nearly slowed down, but I sure looked up-- there, a little more than forty feet ahead, was the lifeboat. I hadn't even realized how close I was to my target, and I swam harder, spitting out more saltwater. The distance closed slowly; I could vaguely make out people staring over the side of the boat at me. I didn't care anymore; I reached the side of the boat, shivering uncontrollably. "G-g-got r-room for one m-m-more?" I stuttered, treading water, my limbs feeling ready to freeze right where they were.
"Certainly," I didn't see who spoke, but suddenly two strong hands were under my forearms, and I was pulled from the water, the words "BOAT 14" legible on the side as I passed it. I was halfway over the eight inches of gunwale when suddenly there came an ear-splitting grinding noise from the direction of the sinking ship. I twisted in the men's grip to see; even they froze, and I went stock-still in my efforts to help them, my knees still hooked over the side of the boat. Everyone in the small craft was gaping wide-eyed and open-mouthed at the Titanic and its second funnel, which was slowly collapsing, just as the forward funnel had done.
Once again, it was like being trapped in an horrific nightmare, watching the greatest ship in the world falling to pieces like this. Several of the women in our boat cried out as the funnel struck the water, creating an absolutely enormous wave that hurried from the ship toward the open sea. Far in the distance, I spotted the overturned collapsible being bucked around again. I prayed Lightoller was still on it.
"Christ Jesus!" said one of the crewmen, and finished pulling me over.
I dropped into the boat, landing on one of the sitting boards. Trying to avoid looking at the steadily dying ship, I stared up into the faces of my rescuers. The one of them was just an ordinary crewman, but the second one I recognized as being one of the officers who was on the bridge earlier. I watched him, teeth chattering, as I tried to remember his name. He was young-- or he looked it, anyway. Trim brown-black hair was tucked under his cap, and his high cheekbones were pink with the cold.
The officer was just getting a good look at me now as he threw a heavy woolen blanket over my shoulders. I saw the slightest flash of recognition seep into his beady eyes. "I know who you are," he said, one of his knees on the bench next to me, one hand on the tiller. "You're the girl who was with Thomas Andrews earlier-- up on the bridge, in the chartroom."
"Y-y-yeah." I said, doing my best to smile. Now that I was out of the water, exhaustion was setting in. "I know y-y-you t-t-too-- your n-name's n-not com-com-coming to me, th-though."
"Harold Lowe." he extended his hand in greeting. "Fifth officer."
"That's r-r-right." I remembered now, and was relieved to see someone I knew. "M-my name's C-C-Carrie Stev-venson." We shook hands, and it was unbelievably odd to be acting so friendly and formal when the Titanic was sinking in the background. I glanced at the crewman who'd helped me over. "Th-th-thanks." I told him, shaking his hand as well.
"Y'welcome." he said, and introduced himself. "Ed Buley."
I glanced over and noticed suddenly-- as did Lowe-- that every person in the boat was staring at us-- some in shock, some in disgust. What the hell? Lowe swallowed, and slowly sat back down on his seat near the tiller.
"What th-the h-h-hell w-w-were they st-st-staring at?" I asked Lowe quietly.
"I think they're afraid of me." he murmured. "They were panicking earlier, and I fired my gun into the air to calm them down." he looked back toward the ship, eyes pained and plainly fearful. "I know I frightened some of them-- but what was I supposed to do?"
"You d-did r-r-right." I said, stuffing the blanket over my fists and breathing on it to warm my hands. At least this boat's almost full to capacity. . . looks like there's maybe fifty people aboard. My bones felt like stretched rubber bands, and my limbs buzzed with exhaustion. I turned my attention back toward the Titanic. Some people were hanging off of the falls, swinging back and forth, and other people just gave up and jumped, falling fifty, a hundred, two hundred feet to the sea below. The Titanic was now sticking out of the water at a forty-five degree angle. "J-J-Jesus." I said, staring, horrified. "What the h-h-ell's k-k-keeping her f-f-from split-t-ting?"
His breath clouded slowly in and out in the frigid air. "I. . . I don't know. . . sooner or later she'll have to split. . . or something. . . the frame can't support all that weight."
I gulped, the screaming and commotion from the passengers still on board audible even at this distance. And even a lot of the women in our boat were weeping, or sniffling, or whimpering. Wonder if the smoking room is flooded? I thought to myself, and another convulsive shiver seized me. Please, God, if Thomas has to die. . . let it be quick and painless. Reminded of Thomas, I looked down to my button-up pocket in the leg of my jeans, and unbuttoned the icy buttons. My fingers, almost frozen stiff, had one hell of a job taking his ring out, but I found it, and dried it off on the blanket before sliding it over my thumb. I then rubbed my hands quickly together, trying to warm them up, my eyes still on the dying ship.
Lowe spoke; he looked nearly ready to throw up. "D'you think. . . after she. . ." he glanced at me and then away again. ". . . goes under. . . we should go back and search for survivors?"
I nodded. "Y-y-yeah. Pick up as man-n-ny as w-w-we c-can."
He gave a wry glance in the direction of the rest of the passengers in the boat. "They'd certainly mind."
"S-sure, b-b-but they're n-not--"
Without warning, every light on board the RMS Titanic flickered once, twice, and then went out completely.
Darkness spread over the sea, over the ship-- the only light came from the stars and the Milky Way, high overhead, throwing everything into a kind of blue-ish glow. I let out a kind of backwards gasp-- my breath seemed to fly from my lungs, and I froze in my spot. It was terrifying-- the full realization hit that once the ship went under, we were just several hundred passengers stranded in the middle of nowhere in the dead of night. Several of the women in our boat again cried out; one woman erupted into hysterical sobbing screams. I shivered again, wishing she'd stop. My nerves were jumpy, as though I'd just swallowed a few cups of coffee, and the screaming was doing nothing to help.
Suddenly Lowe, of all people, sucked in the tiniest gasp. "Look," he said breathlessly.
"Wh-what?" I tried to look in the direction he was pointing, but saw nothing.
"There." he pointed toward the ship; I looked almost right down his arm, and then saw what he was talking about.
My heart leaped into my throat as I watched the dark, iron side of the ship-- the metal was pooching out, as though the entire thing was being bent. A crack suddenly raced up the side of the ship; the railing split and began to pull itself apart.
"Oh, mm-my G-God. . ." I managed, shivering uncontrollably now as I watched. The tearing sheet metal, the collapsing pillars and beams, the floors and walls being ripped apart-- all of it tore at my and everyone's ears, and made the sight absolutely terrifying to watch. I then saw what had to happen-- for physics to play its part, the stern section of the ship would have to fall back onto the water.
And that's exactly what it did.
The screams from the great liner rushed forth across the sea, like a scared-shitless choir, as the thirty-thousand ton rear end fell in a slow, almost graceful arc. Water turned from black to white as it sprayed forth under the force of the stern, which crushed everyone in the sea directly underneath it. The remaining smokestacks came crashing down, rolling off the ship as the huge, jagged gap in the center flooded. However, the stern hadn't been entirely detached from the bow.
Lowe was shaking badly by this time, eyes wide and glassy as his breath came short. "She'll be pulled vertical." he said, and even his voice was unsteady.
I had no idea what to say to that, but suddenly realized that it was true-- the stern began to rise again, this time much faster. It was hardly ten seconds before, without warning, it came to an abrupt and frozen halt at a ninety-degree angle to the water.
"See there!" a hysterical woman cried. "Told y'it couldn't sink!"
The sight was horrifying. Blood-chillingly, mind-numbingly, piss-yourself-sick horrifying. The trembling I felt now was quadruple what my trembling had been when leaving Thomas behind, and it wasn't due to the cold at all. Suddenly I was thankful that if he couldn't see what was happening to his masterpiece, and if he could, he was somewhere that he could be injured by it.
The stern section continued to stand straight up, pointing at the stars, not moving at all. Passengers, just specks from this distance, either clung to the rail and stayed put, or clung to the railing and lost their grip, tumbling down, bouncing off parts of the ship before splashing sickeningly into the water.
I wanted to say something. My God, anything that would break the chilling silence in the boat. However, nothing was coming to mind, at least nothing appropriate. I actually don't think I would have spoken if I could have thought of something appropriate.
But then I found the words.
I whispered them, and they barely made a sound. Yet I still spoke them. "Hail Mary," I murmured, my entire body shaking so much that it made my voice sound clear. "Full of grace. . . the Lord is with thee. . ."
Lowe looked over at me. His eyes were bright with held-back tears, but his hand slid into mine, holding it so tightly that my bones seemed to creak. "Blessed art thou amongst women," he joined in with me, and we spoke the words together, eyes locked on the black steamer. "and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. . ."
Ed Buley, two seats away, heard us. ". . . Holy Mary," he joined in, his voice stronger than both of ours, but there were three of us now. ". . . Mother of God. . . pray for us sinners. . ."
"Now, and at the hour of our death." another man beside me picked it up.
"Our Father," I said, my voice growing stronger, and Lowe immediately followed, along with Buley and the other guy. Within moments, half of our lifeboat was praying the Our Father. ". . . hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come. . ."
At first, so slowly I thought I'd imagined it, the stern began to slip lower, like an elevator descending in a shaft. Then I saw that I wasn't imagining it at all; the entire rear end was plunging into the sea, slowly but surely. Buley's voice grew stronger; it seemed like everyone else joined in. ". . .on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. . ."
This is it, I thought, even as I prayed with the rest of the group. Remember what you saw. It'll be with you for the rest of your life. This is going to be an event that you'll tell your kids about, and your grandkids. . . Then I remembered that Thomas was the only person who I would ever consider having children with, and that he was gone.
This had to be the most profound moment of my entire life, as I watched the ship disappearing into the water, our boat reverberating with the Our Father. Suddenly, from the bowels of the ship, three massive explosions were heard, one right after the other. It sounded as though a bomb had gone off; it might as well have. "Boilers." Lowe said faintly over the noise of the screams and prayers and rushing water.
Twenty feet till it went under, the Jolly Roger still flying on the flagpole. . . ten feet, the water around the boat boiling like a pot on the stove. . .
And then the crest of the bow disappeared, and water continued to churn in its wake.
I heard the tiniest of clicks next to me; I glanced over at Lowe. He was cradling an open pocket watch in his palm. "Two-twenty." he murmured, the prayers still strong in the background.
The RMS Titanic had finally sunk.