April 13, 1912 12:17 pm
"How did you get yourself all the way over here?" A vaguely familiar voice recalled Helen to her surroundings. She looked around uncertainly. Where was here? She seemed to have found a whole new section of the ship.
"I seem to be lost." Helen murmured in numb surprise and turned to the speaker. Charles Joughin was holding a fresh tray of rolls and smiling brightly.
"You're not supposed to be down here in the crew section." Joughin set down his tray and extended his hand. Helen smiled up at the wendigo and accepted his escort.
"Tell me, what news from the land of sky and sun?" He joked.
Helen smiled "Oh not much to tell. It's getting colder now. As of this morning People bundling up, less walks on the open deck. But the talk is the same. Big names on the ship, big names in France and New York what they do and what they've done. What they plan. People talk so little of themselves, conversation becomes tedious. "Helen sighed. "I've kept mostly to myself, as a result. I've found more to do than I expected, but I spend most of my time in the library. "
Joughin gave a soft roar Helen assumed was a laugh. "I hear it's a fine library."
Helen nodded in agreement. "But tell me of your adventures here. You must have something to tell of life here."
"In the bowels of the ship?" The Wendigo laughed. "Not much really. We do our work live our lives return to our cabins and do it all again on the morrow. Met a few right good chaps. Maynard is a cheery lad. Very little excitement." Joughin licked his lips softly and pulled Helen closer lowering his voice. "There is one thing though. I don't wanna worry anyone and I don't wanna be labeled crazy. But a few of the others mentioned hearing a knocking noise. There were rumors of men getting trapped in the hull. But that's just sailor's talk." He shook his head. "I didn't think much of it. Maybe the cold water on the hot metal by the boilers. Or the black gang going about their daily lives."
"The Black gang?" Helen asked in confusion.
"They keep the ship moving. 324 men shoveling 650 tons of coal a day to keep this ship moving. They live in the lower part of the ship their own little world. Never seeing daylight. And spending most of their time in the dark hot boiler rooms." The baker clarified.
"Dear God." Helen gasped.
Joughin pulled Helen closer. "Thing is, I heard it too. The knocking sound. And I remembered an old poem Ma told me when I was a boy. Late last night and the night before"
"Tommy knockers." Helen said, recalling the legends of small gnomes who lived in mines and made loud clanging noises just before cave-ins.
"Can't say for sure. But I'm not one to rule it out. I knew you would believe me. Most people would laugh it off" The Wendigo nodded. "But people like us know what's out there."
"When did you last hear the knocking?" Helen asked. The baker frowned in thought. "Two nights ago. I wish I could warn the others. But keep your wits about you love; I'll keep my eyes peeled." He dropped Helen off at the door to the passenger area and swept off back down to the kitchen at superhuman speed.
Helen considered the information carefully. On one hand there was a possible omen of misfortune. Something had or could go wrong. But of what nature, if anything? It was a large ship and any number of things, big or small could be sensed by Tommy knockers.
If it even wasTommy knockers. There were a multitude of other more 'logical' explanations. She would be jumping at shadows soon.
"Problem Love?" Asked a voice nearby, almost making Helen jump. She looked around to see a group of me holding instruments. She took anoter glance around the halll to find she had been dropped off in the first class dining hall.
"No. Im fine. Thank you. Just a little preoccupied." Helen smiled "I didn't mean to disturb you. Forgive me."
"Oh a lovely distraction like you is welcome any time." The cellist said with a broad wink. "You just surprised us. Most of the first-class ladies are already picking out their dresses for the dance."
"The dance?" Helen repeated uncertainly. "Is it in your honor?"
The men laughed gently. "No we're just the musicians. Hartley, Wallace Hartley Bandmaster this here is John Clarke our Bassist and that chap is Roger Bricoux, Cellist "
"Yes. I saw you here at supper the other night. "Helen smiled.
Bricoux beamed. "That was us. The other band plays in the cafe. I'm hoping one day we can all play together on this voyage."
"That would be wonderful. I'd love to hear it." Helen smiled "But I think I should get going. Let you get back to rehearsal. I suppose I'll see you at the dance tonight."
For all his charms and grandeur, John had never been one for dance. There were times she missed it, but mostly she never thought about it. He loved to take her to balls. Dinner parties. Any number of society gatherings. And he was romantic. Roses for no reason. Jewelry just because. That demure smile when he kissed her hand.
"Well play something in your honor then love." Bricoux said with another wink.
Helen smiled and headed out to the main deck she caught sight of the gym and smiled. She hadn't been cycling in some time. She liked the feeling of pedaling her legs. The swift powerful strokes. Setting a rhythm. She was tired of thinking. John Nikola Tommy knockers. Her long drawn out past her longer future, looming ahead and in great uncertainty.