A SEEMINGLY ENDLESS CROWD had gathered across the dock of Southampton. The only thing drowning out the thunderous roar of tearful farewells, envious wishes for a bon voyage, and– above all– excitement was the sound of steam billowing out of the four massive funnels that towered out of the ship. Families from all walks of life, some living only minutes away while others coming from foreign countries in hopes of finding a new life aboard the so-called Ship of Dreams, rushed to board Titanic. A line of people dressed in coarse wool and tweed nearly reached the small pub located at the end of the dock. They waited patiently as several White Star Line officials combed through their hair and beards, looking for any hint of lice within their locks. Nearby, men, women, and children all dressed in expensive clothing boarded the gigantic ship without being stopped for more than a few moments to present their tickets to the seamen waiting at the front of the queue.
Somewhere amongst the sea of people, the horn from an automobile was barely audible above the commotion. A pearly white vehicle came to a stop as the crowd became too dense to maneuver through. The driver hopped onto the dock, adjusting his jacket, and reached for the door to the automobile's passenger compartment. He held out his hand for the passenger inside, who, after a moment's hesitation, took it.
Katherine Davenport climbed out of the automobile with a quiet thank you to the driver who assisted her. She stepped aside, doing her best to ignore the pounding of her heart against her ribcage as she stared up at the behemoth of a ship before her. A woman stepped out of the vehicle behind her– similar in appearance to young Katherine though with graying hair and signs of age evident on her pale skin. Amelia Davenport's light eyes sparkled as she, too, admired the ship they were only minutes from boarding.
"I still see no reason why we had to spend so much money for our journey home," Katherine commented, her lips pulled taut as she looked back at her mother. "Surely we could have sailed on Carpathia again."
"Carpathia is in New York, my dear– we couldn't have sailed on her," Amelia reminded her daughter. "Besides, our companions offered to pay for our tickets for Titanic!"
Katherine looked back over her shoulder as the aforementioned companions of the two women stepped out of their own automobile. Amelia Davenport's childhood friend, Harriet Brown, and her husband and son– George and Maxwell, respectively– were joining them on their return voyage to New York. Katherine had accompanied her mother on a visit to her hometown of Liverpool to visit Mrs. Brown nearly two weeks prior; what she didn't know, however, was that her parents thought it was a good idea to introduce Katherine to the Browns' son, Maxwell, in a desperate attempt to find their young daughter a suitor.
You see, Katherine Davenport never was the type of girl to fancy boys. While her childhood friends were busy daydreaming about the day they met their "prince" and got married, Katherine was thinking of anything but. Growing up not much better off than the steerage passengers currently boarding Titanic taught her to enjoy the little things in life; it wasn't until Katherine was sixteen years old that her father's iron business took off, and she was suddenly thrown into the Edwardian aristocratic lifestyle. Now, she was suddenly expected by everyone to find a husband and marry as soon as possible.
Of course, her parents never wanted to force their daughter into a marriage that she didn't want. Amelia Davenport ran off from her own life of luxury to marry a sailor named Arthur Davenport; Katherine's parents married for love, and they wanted the same for their own daughter. Nonetheless, Arthur and Amelia were worried for young Katherine. They wanted nothing but the best for their daughter, and although (unlike most other Edwarian parents) they were willing to be patient, they knew that Katherine would have to be courted eventually. So, in order to find the lucky man that would finally tame her wild heart, the Davenports believed they had to take matters into their own hands.
Unfortunately for them, Katherine was less than willing to be courted. She was, after all, not the type of woman to fancy anyone– especially not a rich snobby man whose only interests were business, politics, and showing off what many Edwardian men termed their trophy wives.
While Amelia had been the one to introduce her daughter to Maxwell Brown, when Katherine obviously rejected the man's advances, the older woman wasn't exactly displeased. Like her husband, she knew that it was in her daughter's best interest to marry– and soon, considering the amount of twenty-one year old unmarried women was few and far between– but something inside her (perhaps what is called mother's intuition) knew that the right man for Katherine would come along in his own time. And Amelia was willing to be patient for a bit longer!
Despite Katherine's previous comment, the young woman was unable to deny the excitement she felt upon resting her eyes on Titanic. After spending her childhood on the Tennessee River aboard riverboats with her father prior to his investment in iron, she'd learn to enjoy being on the water. She was more than eager to board the ship and feel the salty wind in her hair (that is, of course, if she managed to sneak off and let down the uncomfortably tight updo that her hair was currently pulled into.)
"Isn't she beautiful?"
Katherine was startled by the sudden question in her ear. While she was busy staring at the ship that stretched along the dock for as long as the eye could see, she hadn't realized that Maxwell Brown had stepped up to stand beside her. She fought back a roll of her eyes; although her mother had accepted that she simply wasn't interested in the bachelor, Maxwell, unfortunately, couldn't take a hint.
"She looks awfully similar to the Lusitania," she responded. A subtle smirk found its way onto her face upon noticing Maxwell's evidently baffled expression.
"This ship is bigger and grander than any other liner on the sea, including the Lusitania!" He sounded almost offended, as if Katherine had offended his family. It was then that she remembered that, in a way, she probably had. Maxwell's father, George, owned the largest steel company in Liverpool; some of their steel had been shipped to Belfast to be used in the hull of Titanic and her sister ships! "Titanic was built for royalty, Miss Davenport."
"Well, I see no royalty," Katherine retorted. She glanced over her shoulder towards the line of steerage passengers that were waiting to board the ship. "Unless, of course, you were referring to the less fortunate families behind us. If so, that's awfully sweet of you."
Maxwell's eyes were wide as he followed her gaze, then his lips twisted into a scowl. "Your sense of humor confuses me," was all he said before he rejoined his family.
Katherine snickered as she watched him go. If she was going to have to deal with him as a companion for the entirety of the journey, she was at least going to have fun with it!
Harold Lowe always seemed to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. When he'd been assigned to remain on the bridge in the hours leading up to Titanic's departure, manning the telephones and relaying messages and commands given by the maritime pilot George Bowyer, the Fifth Officer believed that he'd somehow managed to evade the mayhem that was sure to ensue during boarding. He was quickly proven wrong, however, when he was relieved from his watch after what could've easily been the longest morning of his seafaring career.
Having started his career as a sailor on smaller merchant vessels, Harold still wasn't quite used to having to share the ship with countless different types of passengers– some were kind and mainly kept to themselves, whilst others were either rude or far too curious for their own good. Harold preferred to avoid interactions with passengers as much as possible, though the rounds he was assigned to take after every watch made it rather difficult to do so. He was expected to make his way towards the stern in order to ensure the security of the ship, a path that required to travel down not only the first class promenade, but the second and third class decks, as well.
Leaving the bridge in the hands of Officers Boxhall and Moody, who had spent the morning assisting in the boarding of the passengers in Southampton and relieved Harold and Officer Pitman for the first dog watch, the Fifth Officer could only hope that the passengers were far too busy settling into their staterooms to stop him on his rounds. Though it was only moments after he stepped onto the first class promenade deck that he caught the attention of a nearby passenger. It was a young man who stood near an older couple, and he gestured Harold over with a wave of his hand. For a moment, the officer stayed where he was; he glanced around him, searching for a nearby steward that the man could've been summoning instead.
The man then called out to him, his voice laced with a heavy Liverpool accent: "Pardon me, officer! We required assistance."
Damn it, Harold hissed to himself, though he forced a polite smile onto his face and straightened his posture to face the passenger. "What can I do for you, sir?"
"I believe I left one of my luggage in the first class purser's office. Would you retrieve it for me?" asked the man, and Harold could hardly believe his ears. Was this passenger really asking him, an officer, to retrieve his luggage? Certainly there were plenty of stewards available to do such a mundane task!
"Oh, don't bother this officer, Maxwell," the older woman standing nearby scolded him. "I'm sure he has more important things to do!"
Damn right I do, Harold silently agreed. For a moment, he was hopeful. Perhaps the man would listen to the older woman and let the officer continue his duties. If only he were that lucky. He bit back a groan as the man named Maxwell said: "Nonsense! This is his job!"
Harold was ready to tell the man that his request was, in fact, not his job, but he quickly bit his tongue as someone else stepped up to stand beside him. He glanced towards William Murdoch, First Officer and Harold's superior, with an almost exasperated look. Perhaps Mr. Murdoch would be kind enough to find a steward to do the job instead!
"Mr. Lowe would be happy to retrieve that luggage for you," the First Officer said instead. Then, he turned towards Harold and added in a whisper: "It's best not to argue with passengers– especially the rich ones. One petty complaint from them could cost us officers our jobs!"
Despite wanting to do anything but make the trek down below deck just to retrieve a luggage for some rich passengers, Harold knew better than to argue. He shot the passenger a forced, tight-lipped smile; then, with a tip of his hat, he was on his way.
The journey down to the purser's office on C-Deck required Harold to travel through the heart of the first class accommodations. He slipped inside the vestibule, immediately feeling as though he'd stepped into another world. Having only joined the White Star Line a year prior, the officer hadn't yet gotten used to the luxury of passenger liners– especially not one as grand as the Olympic-class vessels. It was apparent from the moment he stepped inside the first class entrance that he didn't belong.
Nor was he used to being in the presence of such powerful figures in the form of passengers. As he made his way down the Grand Staircase to C-Deck, he was well aware of the stares he was receiving; some were simply curious, while others were evidently judgmental, questioning his appearance in their part of the ship. Around him were passengers dressed in expensive clothing– flowing gowns, feathered hats, and suits that all probably cost more than the young sailor had ever seen in his life! He was certain that the majority of these passengers could buy his family's entire property in Barmouth with what they would consider meager pocket change. As someone who lived off of his wages as he earned them (with very little to spend frivolously) Harold knew that he did everything but fit in with the Edwardian aristocrats.
It didn't take the Welshman long to retrieve the luggage from the purser's officer. Chief Purser McElroy handed Harold a large leather luggage with the initials M.B. embroidered on it and told him that the owner, Maxwell Brown, was traveling with his family on A-Deck. Thanking the purser, Harold was on his way once more.
He made his way back up to A-Deck. His pace was quick as he made his way down the long corridor that housed a number of first class staterooms. His eyes scanned each door that he passed, searching for the cabins in which he would find the Browns. Due to this and his brisk pace, he wasn't looking where he was going– therefore, he didn't notice the young woman who stepped out of her stateroom and into the hallway just a few feet in front of him. That is, until he quite literally ran into her and caused her to let out a shocked cry at the collision!
Harold immediately dropped Mr. Brown's luggage onto the ground and reached out to steady the woman before she lost her footing. "I'm awfully sorry, madam. Are you alright?" He asked her politely, though he was silently cursing himself in his mind for being so careless. He'd instinctively grabbed her waist in the midst of his panic, and upon realizing this, he immediately released her with an inwardly groan.
You've really fucked yourself now!
"I'm alright," the woman assured him with a kind grin. Her voice was warm, tinged with an accent that Harold had only heard once or twice; he recognized it to be Southern American. Her smile traveled all the way to her eyes, which were a color so vivid that they reminded him of the open sea. "Thank you for steadying me before I completely embarrassed myself by falling onto my face!"
Harold was taken aback. Was she really thanking him when it was his fault that she nearly lost her footing in the first place? Before he had the chance to respond, his bad luck seemed to only continue, for a new hard voice joined them in the hallway– one that he recognized as belonging to Maxwell Brown.
"Are you daft? First you run into my fiancé, and then you proceed to drop my luggage? How careless can you be!"
Harold bit back his anger, finding it more difficult to contain his temper by the second. Much to his surprise (and, honestly, his relief) the woman who still stood beside him was quick to jump to his defense. "Oh, there's no need to be so rude, Mr. Brown!" she scolded with an unsubtle roll of her eyes. "And don't lie, either! You are not my fiancé– I would hardly even consider you an acquaintance!"
Harold had to bite back his laughter at her retort. A first class woman willing to stand up to such a rude man? Suddenly, he found himself intrigued by her character.
"It was my fault, anyways. I wasn't looking where I was going," she finished. She glanced towards Harold as she did so, who stood frozen in the middle of the corridor with surprise evident on his features.
Mr. Brown narrowed his eyes at the woman. He was evidently unhappy that she called him out on a lie; perhaps he was expecting her to act as his fiancé in an attempt to help him get the officer in trouble. Harold prepared himself to defend her if the man decided to take his annoyance out on her instead. There was no way he was going to allow Mr. Brown to snap at the woman after she so kindly took the blame for his carelessness!
"Perhaps I should have just found a steward, since this job was obviously too complex for you. They at least know how to do their jobs!" Mr. Brown then snapped, turning his glare onto Harold once more.
Oh, Harold wanted nothing more than to yell at the man that fetching lost luggages for rich passengers wasn't his job, and that he had much more important things to be doing, but he stayed silent. Mr. Murdoch's words echoed through his mind, reminding him that a single complaint by any first class passenger could not only cost him his position as an officer, but perhaps his entire employment with the White Star Line as a whole! He allowed the man to snatch the luggage out of his hands, hoping that this was the end of the altercation. Mr. Brown said nothing more as he disappeared back inside his stateroom and slammed the door shut behind him.
Harold's fists clenched at his sides, his jaw tight. It was times like these where he wished that he never stopped working on merchant vessels, for he wasn't entirely sure that the pain of dealing with passengers such as Maxwell Brown was worth the extra wages. He nearly forgot that the woman he'd run into was standing beside him until she reached out and rested a hand on his bicep. The gesture took him by surprise.
"It would do him some good to get his head out of his ass," she whispered to him. Her language surprised him, and when he turned to look at her, he found her looking up at him with a high-spirited glint in her eyes. He couldn't help but let out a breathy laugh at her comment, which only caused her to grin widely in response.
"Do you know him?" Harold found himself asking before he could stop himself. He silently cursed himself upon noticing the woman look taken aback by his sudden question.
"He's the son of a family friend," she responded, shrugging. Then, she added in a whisper: "He has this delusional belief that he's going to court me!"
Harold suddenly became aware of the ticking of the watch in the pocket of his coat, reminding him that he had little time to chat to a passenger, no matter how much she intrigued him. "I'm truly sorry again–" he went to say, but she quickly dismissed him with a wave of her gloved hand.
"I'm sure you have better things to do than run errands for rich snobs like Maxwell Brown," she assured him.
The officer couldn't help but smile slightly at her choice of words. If he was being honest, he felt as though he was talking to anyone but a first class passenger. She spoke of her own kind as if she couldn't stand them! She intrigued him, and he found it odd that the eagerness to return to the bridge that he'd previously felt was gone. The woman, on the other hand, seemed to suddenly notice the numerous stares they were receiving from nearby passengers, and she scowled unhappily.
"I guess I should leave you to your duties. Perhaps I'll see you around," she said to him, then turned to leave.
Before he had the chance to do so, Harold quickly called after her: "May I ask your name?"
She turned to face him once more, confused at first, then smiling warmly. "Katherine Davenport, at your service," she introduced herself with a dramatic curtsey. "And you?"
"Fifth Officer Harold Lowe," he responded and tipped his hat politely.
"It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Lowe," Katherine said to him. Then, with a wave and another smile, she left him. Harold stayed frozen in place and watched her go, the annoyance he felt towards the quarrel with Mr. Carter suddenly forgotten. It was only when she disappeared around a corner that he remembered that he, too, had somewhere to be. Twisting around on his heels, he began to make his way back to the bridge.