Chapter 22: Little Hope
"Row towards the ship!" the lead officer of the boat shouts.
Peter sighs. It's what they've been doing all night. His arms are sore from rowing and his leg is still killing him. He knows the blood has soaked through his bandage and is probably pooling on the deck of the lie boat. The cold may have sealed the wound a bit, but also frozen the blood to his leg.
He still can't believe that he was shot and that the entire ship went down in less than two hours. Every moment he thought of Emma, somewhere on that ship. He prayed that she made it to a lifeboat and was now also going towards the rescue ship. He couldn't bear the thought of Emma being on the stern of the ship as it broke away and went down so quickly. He hoped that Emma wasn't among those who screamed as they froze to death in the water all around them. He couldn't picture it.
He rowed with the other men who were put in charge of the oars through the night. Several of them were firemen who had been working down in the boiler room when the water poured into the ship. How they escaped, Peter didn't know because no one spoke at all on the boat. The shock of what had just happened was hardly sinking in, leaving everyone paralyzed and sad. Several women on the boat were sobbing for their husbands and children clung to their mothers, more afraid than anyone else. Peter had handed Sybil to a nearby woman who tended to her all night. Sybil had slept most of the night, the swaying of the boat seemed to put her under nicely. She did wake up once and began to cry, most likely because she was in the arms of a stranger. Peter took a break from his rowing to cradle and comfort her. He could tell she was cold, hungry, and missed her sister. After what they'd been through that night, he felt like crying too but kept calm for the sake of his wife's sister. Once she was in familiar arms, Sybil settled down enough to go back to sleep. Peter envied her, being able to let all your cares drift out of your mind as you escape to a safer place. He gav0e Sybil back to the woman and began to row.
They rowed for most of the night, in no particular direction, but it was meant to keep people warm. The officer was the only one who ever really spoke, ordering those to go port or starboard or stop. Several of the passengers wanted to go back and look for survivors, but they were ordered to remain quiet by the officer. The fear of being swamped by panicking victims was greater than the need to save more lives. Peter desperately wanted to disagree, but he was in too much pain to protest.
As the sun rose, the boat was surrounded by icebergs and on the odd occasion a corpse floating in the water. Peter wants to avert his eyes, but he had to see if it was Emma. He felt some relief when none of them were her. A ship's horn soon broke the morning air, many of the survivors rejoiced and cheered. However, Peter felt a little relief. The officer ordered them to row and Peter did as much as he could, feeling the energy and hope draining from him.
The last words that Emma has said to him echoed in his mind.
"I need you to go. Someone has to care for Sybil…If you're safe, I'll be safe, please do this for me. I couldn't go on if something happened to you…I will find you again. I will be okay! ...Family vow…"
He did his best not to cry, distracting himself from the pain of possibly losing his wife, whom he had only been married to for a few hours, by rowing, but there was still a heavy stone in his stomach. He felt so helpless. He should've held onto her more tightly, preventing her from leaving his side. She should have been in this boat, not him or maybe both of them, still together and still a family. Now she was most likely gone.
The boat waits for a while for their turn. When the time came, the options are to pull the children up in a cargo net, be pulled up in a swing or climb the ladder. Peter watches as several women are pulled up in the swing.
"I can't climb…" Peter says. "I was shot in the leg."
"There's a swing…" one of the officers says calmly. "It will pull you up."
A simple rope swing with a wooden seat is lowered down and Peter, with help, manages to get on it.
"Hold tight," the officer says.
The morning sun practically blinds Peter as he is swung up out of the lifeboat. His stomach churning as he's lifted high above the ocean. He clung to the ropes with his dear life. The cold also nips at his nose and hands, which are already frozen from rowing. His swing reaches the rail and several men help pull him over.
Once aboard, he is offered a blanket and something hot to drink, but Peter can barely go two steps before collapsing due to his wound. The crew from the Carpathia surround him in concern and rush to his aid.
"What hurts son?"
"My leg…" Peter grimaces. "I was shot in the leg."
"Get him to the doctor's cabin immediately," one of the officers of the ship orders.
Two men grab either side of Peter and help him to the doctor's cabin. They knock before entering.
Once inside, Peter feels the rush of warmth, something he has not felt in a long time. A doctor in a white coat is cleaning his hands when the men come in.
"Better be gentle with this one doc," one of the men grunts. "He was shot."
"Which leg?" the doctor asks.
"Left," Peter moans.
"Bring him to the table here, gently please." The doctor orders.
The men do so and Peter can't help but feel a great amount of gratitude to the men, as his strength has left him.
"Thank you," Peter whispers as the men turn to leave.
The men nod in acknowledgment and leave the cabin.
A doctor comes in and goes to work on Peter. He cuts away at the boy's pant leg and begins prodding at the bandages. Peter moans as the shooting pains come back and his leg clenches up.
"Who shot you son?" the doctor asks.
"Some man, we got on his bad side," Peter says.
"May he be in hell for doing this to you," the doctor grimaces.
Peter feels some satisfaction with the doctor saying this. Hockley had shot at him, with the intention of killing him out of anger and some well-orchestrated plan to frame Jack for it. Hopefully, Hockley had not made it off the boat and is burning in hell for doing this to him.
"Looks like the hospital on the Titanic didn't do much for you," the doctor observes.
"The ship was already sinking when this happened," Peter explains. "There wasn't much that they could do."
The doctor slowly removes the blood-soaked bandages and Peter gasps in pain.
The doctor pauses and then goes to the medicine cabinet.
"I'm going to give you some morphine son," the doctor says as he reaches for a sterile needle. "It will numb the pain and allow me to inspect the wound."
"Okay," Peter murmurs, only half-conscious now. He never particularly liked needles, but at this point, he was too tired to care
The doctor fills the needle up and presses it into Peter's leg.
The man immediately feels some relief as the substance begins to enter is the body, alleviating much of the pain that had haunted him for the past few hours. He feels his eyes closing and his body relaxing little by little. He is suddenly filled with a new kind of warmth, something that allowed him to drift into a dreamless sleep.
…
Peter comes to several hours later. He is lying on a cot in the doctor's cabin. A thick blanket is wrapped around him as well as an IV injected in his right arm. He moves slightly and cringes, the morphine is wearing off and the pain is coming back. He can hardly sit up.
"Ah, I see you are awake," the doctor says coming into the cabin again. "I managed to get the bullet out and stitch up the wound. I also disinfected the wound and mopped up the rest of the blood. It amazes me that you managed to get through the night without losing too much blood, I think the cold air helped prevent too much blood leaving your body."
"Thank you," Peters says groggily.
"You are very welcome. Now the nurses will bring you something warm to drink to get yourself hydrated again and you can relax."
"What about Sybil?" Peter asks.
"Sybil?" the doctor says.
"My wife's sister she was in the lifeboat with me…" Guilt surges through Peter. The whole point of him being in the lifeboat was that he could care for Sybil, make sure she wasn't alone. He tries to move, get out of his bed. The pain comes back and his leg aches like crazy. He has to get the little girl. She may be the only piece of Emma he will ever have left. "I have to get to her…"
"You are not going anywhere!" the doctor says, rushing over to stop Peter from moving. "You won't be able to walk on that leg for several weeks and if you move now, you will run the risk of opening the wound again, causing infection and further bleeding. Sir, you cannot go anywhere,"
"But Sybil," Peter says, tears coming to his eyes. "I can't leave her alone. My wife…she may have gone down with the ship and I promised to take care of her…"
The doctor looks into the young man's eyes. He had seen a lot of tragedy in the past few hours, many of the patients are distraught over the loss of their loved ones. He remembers treating a young Madeline Astor; pregnant and now alone as her husband had gone down with the ship. He had given her tea and told her to try and sleep, due to the extreme stress is very dangerous for the child she was carrying, it would be very easy for her to miscarry. He could do little to ease the pain of the grieving survivors, though he wished he could help them, unfortunately, there is no cure for sadness. However, here he could do something to help this young man, make his recovery a little better.
"How about this, I will get a nurse to send out the name and description of the child and the officers will search for her. If…when they find her, they will bring her to you. Is that okay?"
Peter nods and relaxes a bit. He gives the name and description of the child for the doctor to give to the searchers and he lays back.
Several hours later, Peter had been forced to drink several cups of tea to re-hydrate himself and bring his body heat back to normal. He refused any form of morphine until Sybil was found. He mostly spent the time asking if there was a young woman in the infirmary answering to the name of Emma, but he only got a no. He gave his name to someone making a list of survivors and asked for anyone named Emma Carson. Again, he got a no. He watched the other survivors come in and out of the cabin, getting treatment for whatever, they needed. He did see one man with both his ankles broken go out, explaining that he must be at his post. Another man with dark hair and a thick mustache was carried into a separate room, pale, shivering and whispering in hysteria.
A nurse comes in with some hot soup for Peter as the sun goes down.
"I have some good news for you, sir," the nurse says.
"What is it?" the young man asks.
A woman, the same woman who was caring for Sybil in the boat, comes into the room carrying a bundle of blankets.
"Sybil!" Peter gasps, tears flooding his eyes in relief.
The woman brings the bright-eyed baby to Peter who takes her eagerly. Sybil looks up at Peter and smiles. She reaches up and touches Peter's face. Peter holds her hand against his face, embracing the warmth
"Thank you so much!" Peter says to the woman. "For keeping her safe."
"You are most welcome," the woman says with a warm smile. "She is quite the kicker. She did not like me at first, but when I fed her, she calmed down enough. She has slept most of the day. I did try looking for you until an officer informed me a child was missing and matched this young one's description."
Sybil coos and kicks against the blankets she's wrapped in.
"I wish I could repay you," Peter says.
"There is no need. To see a family reunited and see a little happiness after this tragedy is more than enough payment," the woman says. She reaches over and shakes Peter's hand then kisses Sybil before leaving the room, never to be seen again.
Peter eats his soup and then is brought some warm milk to feed Sybil. Sybil eventually falls asleep and the nurse brings him a small basket to place the young child inside. The nurse offers Peter some morphine, but he refuses. She then leaves the two alone and dousing the lamp in the cabin.
The euphoria of being reunited passes over Peter and he begins to sob. He holds Sybil in his arms and he clings her as if she'll suddenly disappear. He rocks her back and forth as tears slide down his face in the darkness. It is unlikely that Emma was coming back and all he had left is this tiny child. They had lost everything and the guilt of feeling some kind of happiness hurts him further. Emma should be here, happy to see her sister again and they should be holding onto each other, never to be separated again. Despite the tragedy, they should all be going to New York together and restarting their lives as a family. But, it was just him and Sybil, to raise as his own. He now fully understood why Emma wanted him to go in the lifeboat, so Sybil would not be an orphan and alone in the world. Emma wanted her sister to know what love felt like and have someone to watch out for her, even when she couldn't. Protect the child from the world full of harsh realities and unbearable sadness. How would he ever tell Sybil that her sister went down with the ship? He would never get her body to bury in a grave and Sybil would never have something to visit. He would never know what she was thinking in her last moments. At least, she went out like a hero, trying to save Jack and not alone, Rose was with her. He just prays that her end was quick and painless. He'd never know for sure and he'd never be able to tell her he loved her.
He cries and kisses Sybil several times as the child sleeps. Her face is flushed in the warmth of the room and her tiny mouth moves in a rhythm as if she is speaking. He can see Emma in the child's tiny features. Sure, it would make him sad at first, but Sybil is the last piece of Emma he would have, so he would treasure her. He had promised to protect this child and that is what he will do. He will raise this little girl as his own and always remember Emma.
He settles into the bed, holding Sybil close to him. He never wanted to let her go. He eventually falls asleep with Sybil cradled against him.