"The screams and pleas for help are still plastered in my mind. Every time I close my eyes I see visions of people drowning, begging for aid, before they took their last breath and became succumbed into the deep dark sleep that would forever ensnare them."
At sea... onboard Titanic April 14, 1912
The Sages were a delightful family, all with soft brown eyes and light brown curls. Their family was large, with 9 children, but some of my best memories on Titanic were with Dorothy (who was 13) and William (who was 11) Sage. Many adventures had pursued us in those blissful days. Once we had swung on the huge baggage cranes on the top deck. Ruthie had argued fervently about going on them, insisting that since she was too young to climb up onto it nobody should have that privilege. The sensation of swinging was delightful, to feel the wind in your face and watch the sea race by. But sadly that sensation was short-lived. We slid down to find that our hands were covered in thick, smelly, oily grease. Ruthie had fell to the ground erupting with giggles.
That night my father had agreed to take us down to one of the lounge parties, something that I had been dying to do since I had first arrived. I had on my earthy brown dress, the one mother gave me before she died. Ruthie looked over at me, her brown tresses neatly tucked behind her ears. I smiled, "How do I look?" I asked jokingly turning in circles. Ruthie looked at me, "Very pretty." She said. I grinned at her, picked her up, and followed my father out the door.
He led us down past the smoking room and into the lounge. A most thrilling sight met us, the room was hazy with all the smoke from the men's cigars. The lighting was dim but very quickly our eyes adjusted. Other passengers were sitting in chairs drinking, smoking, and playing arm-wrestling games. Then my ears heard the music. Intoxicating, loud, and enthralling. My father spied the Sages and quickly gestured them over. Mr. and Mrs. Sage stride over to us, following behind them like ducklings were five of their children, Stella, George, Douglas, Fredrick, and Dorothy. Dorothy smiled at Ruthie and said, "C'mon Ruthie lets go dance." Ruthie obligingly took her hand and they proceed to the raised platform in the middle of the floor. My father and Mr. Sage had engaged in a conversation about Irish agriculture. I lowered my self into a chair, and let the sound of the music wash over me. The drums played a lively tune. Ta da da dum, ta da da dum. Soon it felt like the music was part of me, in my very soul. "Eva would you like to dance?" I snapped out of my little trance to find Fredrick Sage holding out his hand to me. I smiled and grasped his hand as he pulled me out of the chair. Fredrick was 16, with sandy blonde hair and eyes like the sea after a storm, blue and grey, and green. His hand was cool against mine as we advanced on to the platform were Dorothy and Ruthie were already dancing. Dorothy shot me a grin and snickered. Fredrick pulled me to him, put his hand on my waist and in an instant we were off! Spinning and laughing as we messed up on the steps to the dance. Ruthie was laughing like a child who had just received her long awaited Christmas gift. Fredrick spun me around one last time as the song ended.
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Ruthie had fallen asleep smiling in my father's arms as we walked along yawning back to our state rooms. I was too tired to speak and as soon as father opened the door. I rushed in and fell on my bunk, to exhausted to even change into my night clothes. Father laughed quietly as he lay Ruthie down on the top bunk. "Goodnight sweethearts, I love you." He mumbled. "Love you to." I whispered yawning. Sinking in to the soft feeling of my mattress and I could still feel Fredrick's arms on my waist. Grinning, I drifted off to sleep.
That night my usually peaceful dreams were filled with horrible nightmares. In the end I just couldn't take it anymore. I sat up in my bunk, clutching my pillow tightly, trying to banish the chilling images from my head.
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An earsplitting roar filled the air of our peaceful room. Father jolted out of bed and opened the door. I had only just gotten back to sleep. Ruthie sat up, and I yelled to his back, "Father where are you going?" A moment of silence than father shouted back into our room, "Eva! Ruthie! Wake up!" I could hear the fright in his voice. He came scampering back into the room a look of panic and alarm on his face. "What's going on?" I asked. My father was never scared, but the look on his face now was one I had never seen before. "Water." He replied. Ruthie looked at him uncertainly. "What?" I asked again. "Water." Throwing the covers off of me, I ran to the door. Something wasn't right, I could hear voices of our neighbors out in the hallway, inquiring what was wrong. It didn't take long to figure it out. There seeping up the stairs was cold, salty, Atlantic sea water.