Author's Note: Hello readers. First of all I would just like to thank all of you for reading my story, and for the kind words of support I have received from several of you. I am very pleased that you guys are enjoying it, and I have to admit that I never imagined it would be as successful as it has been thus far. This is the first fan fiction I've written. This story is purely a work of fiction and while employing the use of my artistic license I have tried to make many details as historically accurate as possible. Grace Andrews, her mother, and her friend Lily are all fictional characters, which I am weaving into this historical event, and they belong to me. I shall be using James Cameron's characters in this story because I like them...as characters, and they will help with plot development. Furthermore, when writing this I pictured these people looking and acting as they did in his movie. I know it isn't an accurate depiction of some characters, but I prefer it in some instances to the truth. For example, I prefer James Cameron's depiction of Harold Lowe as a selfless hero versus the historical depictions of him being a flippant racist - no offense to Mr. Lowe or his family. The only people I shall be painting in a negative light are J. Bruce Ismay and some of the fictional movie characters I mentioned previously. Also, I have yet to decide if Ellen Whitehouse will exist in this fan fiction or not...it depends on how I decide to end the story. I believe that is all that I need to say about my story. I hope you enjoy it.
Never an Absolution
Chapter 3
At about eleven o'clock, there was a knock at Grace's door. "Come in," she said while putting away the last few pieces of her clothing. She turned towards the door as it opened and was not surprised to see her father standing there, his black bowler hat in hand.
"I've come to see if you would like to visit the bridge. I am expected there, and I thought you might enjoy seeing it and meeting the ship's officers as well as being reacquainted with Captain Smith."
"I'd love to," she replied as she grabbed her hat off the table. She went to the mirror and placed it atop her head, securing it with the hatpin, and then she followed her father out of the room.
They made their way to the grand staircase and ascended it one level to the boat deck. A steward dressed in black pants and a black jacket opened the door for them. Grace's father extended his arm, insisting she go first. She stepped outside and was overwhelmed by the amount of people that had flooded the boat deck to bid farewell to Southampton. They were on the port side of the ship, the side that was docked. Her father placed his hand on her back, urging her onward. They crossed over to the officers' promenade and entered the bridge.
Mr. Ismay was there, conversing with Captain Smith and several other gentlemen. Grace recognized the captain immediately from her encounters with him as a young girl. He had changed very little, having only grown more white-haired from the last time she saw him. Several of the men in the group appeared to be reporters, and she recognized that two of them were officers due to their black service dress. Her father made his way over to the men, and she followed reluctantly. Grace was terribly shy and thought herself horrible at introductions. She stopped a short distance away from the group of men, which now also included her father, and observed their interaction. The reporters began questioning him almost immediately and she smiled as she watched her father handle the bombardment of questions with ease. The reporters then asked Mr. Ismay if they could get a few pictures of him for their papers, and the group was broken.
Her father turned to her and held out his hand, beckoning for her to come forward. She did as she was expected and joined the remaining men. "Captain Smith, this is my daughter, Grace," he said.
"Grace?" Captain Smith questioned. "The last time I saw you, you were a child and now you're a young lady, and a beautiful one at that."
She blushed as he kissed her hand and spoke a quiet, "Thank you."
He smiled kindly, warmly at her. Her father then continued. "This is Chief Officer Henry Wilde," he said motioning to the man to the right of Captain Smith. She shook his hand, giving him a small smile. "And this is First Officer William Murdoch," he said motioning to the man on the left. He, too, shook Grace's hand and offered her a comforting grin. Several other officers joined their ranks, and Grace was introduced to them in turn. After the Chief and First officers, Grace was introduced to Fourth Officer Joseph Boxhall, Third Officer Herbet Pittman, and Second Officer Charles Lightoller. The eight of them stood talking for a moment before the reporters and Mr. Ismay returned. The reporters requested that the Captain and the Officers be photographed next. Grace watched curiously as Mr. Lightoller crossed to the starboard side of the ship as if looking for something. At about that time, two young officers appeared around the corner. Mr. Lightoller turned and nodded to the reporters. The men then made their way to join the three officers on the starboard side and disappeared around the corner, leaving Grace with her father and Mr. Ismay.
That brief moment was all he'd needed. He had seen her standing there, looking utterly lost amongst the group of men. Her petite frame probably contributed to the helplessness he perceived, but the expression on her face confirmed it. He followed the reporters to their desired destination and seized the opportunity to question Lightoller. "Who was that girl on the bridge?"
"That's Grace Andrews, Mr. Andrews' daughter." The two men said nothing more. Harold Lowe got into position as the reporters ordered and stood pensively as they snapped photographs. He was glad when they declared they were finished and returned to the bridge with the others.
"Well, what do you think of Titanic so far, Miss Andrews?" Mr. Ismay asked her.
"She's breathtaking. I cannot imagine anything more beautiful or powerful."
"Do you like your stateroom?" He persisted.
"It's lovely," she replied, not sure what else to say.
"Well, I'm sure that your father will be showing you around." He paused for a moment before continuing, "You must visit the gymnasium. It's on the starboard side, just behind the bridge. And you must visit the swimming bath. It is located on Deck F. I'm quite sure everyone will enjoy using it. Did you know, Miss Andrews, that there are four restaurants available for first class passengers in addition to the dining saloon? I am sure that you will dine at them all before we dock at New York." He continued on like this for some time, praising not only the ship but himself as well. She began forming her opinion of Mr. Ismay, and although he seemed to be a pleasant man, he was a little too pompous for Grace's taste.
She was relieved when the captain, officers, and reporters returned. However, her relief was not for long. The reporters requested to photograph her father next. He left with them, promising Grace that he would not be long.
Grace was relieved when Mr. Ismay and Captain Smith engaged in conversation, and took the opportunity to slip away. She left the partially enclosed bridge for the open deck on the port side, and stepped up onto the small landing that lined the forward section of the bridge. She leaned against the banister and watched the crowds on the decks below bidding farewell to the people on the dock.
"Good day, miss," a man with a Welsh accent said behind her. She turned in the direction of the voice and found one of the young officers she had failed to meet standing there. "Do you mind if I join you?" he continued.
"Of course not," she answered, offering a small smile. He then stepped up onto the landing beside her and stood erect with his hands clasped behind his back, watching the same crowds she had just been observing.
When the captain and officers had returned to the bridge, Harold was amused to find the young woman engaged in what appeared to be a very painful conversation with Mr. Ismay. The relief that flooded her face at their return was quickly wiped away when she learned that her father was next to be photographed. He watched as she managed a quick, unnoticed getaway and decided to follow her.
He studied her for a moment. Her boarding suit was a deep navy and royal blue, and her hat matched perfectly. He noticed the dark brown curls that peeked from underneath her hat and her pale skin, which was considered idealistic for women of her status. He smiled to himself, amused at her relaxed position and lack of awareness of his presence. "Good day, miss," he finally said. He could tell by the expression on her face that he had caught her completely off guard so he continued in hopes of easing her discomfort, "Do you mind if I join you?"
"Of course not," she replied after a few moments. He appreciated the small, awkward smile she offered him and stood next to her on the landing. He turned his attention to the crowds, trying not to stare at her. However, he did not miss her quizzical observation of him, nor did he miss her blush as she turned away when she realized she had been staring at him.
He decided to break the silence and turned to her before asking, "How are you enjoying Titanic so far, miss?
"I am enjoying it very much," she replied, turning to meet his gaze. He took the opportunity to study her face. She had uniquely hazel eyes that were brown with a thin green ring encircling the outside of them. Her lips were small and seemed to be naturally vibrant. Her features were not extraordinary but they suited her very well. Perhaps she was not the most beautiful woman in the world, but she was beautiful. Most importantly, in his opinion, the fire in her eyes would sully even the most beautiful of women.
"Excellent," he finally replied. "Fifth Officer Harold Lowe at your service, miss," he said tilting his head a bit and smiling warmly at her.
"Grace Andrews," she replied shaking his hand.
Grace appreciated the young officer's feeble attempts at conversation because she was not brave enough to begin one herself. However, she was relieved when she heard her father's voice behind her, "I see you've had the pleasure of meeting Officer Lowe, Grace."
She turned to face him, smiling genuinely, and replied, "Yes, father. He was keeping me company while you were with the reporters."
"Then I must thank you, Officer Lowe, for keeping my daughter entertained while I was away."
"It was my pleasure, sir. If you'll excuse me, I must tend to my duties. It is almost time to set sail." Officer Lowe stepped down from the landing and addressed Grace's father before he turned to her and said, "It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Andrews, and I hope you enjoy your journey."
She smiled a real smile at his words and said a soft, "Thank you." She stared after him as he walked into the bridge. Her father joined her on the landing, and Grace quickly turned her attention back toward the crowds below her.
Her father pulled out his watch, checked it, and put it away before he informed her that they would be setting sail in fifteen minutes. "Would you like to join the others on the promenade?" he questioned.
"No, father. I'd prefer to stay here. I like it here. It's quiet."
He smiled at her and placed his hands upon the wooden banister, studying the crowds as she did. She could feel the excitement building inside her as she waited for the ship to be cast off and for their journey at sea to begin. She loved the sea and it had been too long since she had felt the simple joy it brought her.
Grace watched anxiously as the seaman on the bow cast off the moorings when the time arrived for Titanic to set sail. She could hear the ringing of the telegraphs coming from the bridge behind her as the officers on deck communicated with the engine room below. A few moments later she could hear the distant hum of the engines starting up and feel the lull of their motion. She closed her eyes, tilted her head back a bit and allowed herself to enjoy the moment.
A loud snapping sound pulled her back to her senses. She opened her eyes quickly and looked around. She was horrified by what she saw. The S.S. New York had broken free of her moorings and was headed straight for Titanic. Grace quickly jumped down from the landing and ran toward the wing cab with her father close behind her. She gripped the wooden banister on the low-lying wall that separated the bridge from the remainder of the boat deck and leaned over to watch the terrible scene unfold. However, almost as quickly as it had started, it stopped. Titanic shut off her engines, and a tugboat stopped the New York's momentum. The disaster had been averted. Grace took a deep breath and looked down at her hands. She had not realized how tightly she'd been holding onto the banister. She released her grasp and let her hands fall to her sides. She tried to steady herself. She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned her head to find her father standing beside her. "Why don't you go inside now? You look shaken. It will be a while before we're underway again, and I'm afraid that I'll have to leave you now and attend to some business. You'll be alright on your own?"
She nodded her head. She did not trust her voice enough to speak. She then turned and made her way to the first class entrance, and the safety of her stateroom.