Early May, 1912
Grey skies drizzled down on Southampton as vehicles and horse-drawn carts mingled at the docks awaiting the latest liner to disgorge her cargo and passengers from New York. This time, it was theOceanicwhich had berthed at the White Star Pier, after almost a week at sea.
While once she had been the biggest and best, now she seemed a sad substitute for her lost sister. The usual mood of ship arrivals was subdued in the wake of the tragedy, those meeting loved ones giving a watered-down greeting, feeling it would be too out of place and cruel in a city where so many had never returned home.
Ada Murdoch and Sylvia Lightoller clutched each other's arms as they watched the procession of passengers slowly descend the gangways from the upper gallery overlooking the arrivals hall.
Both wore mourning black, but Ada cut a shattered yet stoic figure in a black wide-brimmed hat of the latest style, clearly new, topped with a sheer black veil that framed her drawn, pale face.
She'd pulled the front of it up over the brim of the hat, not wanting to hide her devastation from the world. William had been everything to her, and it felt wrong to hide how much his loss affected her.
Ada paid the disembarking passengers little attention, for the one person she wanted to see most would not be arriving that way.
She let out a tremulous sigh and cast her eyes over to the entrance where the bulky cargo and luggage would come in. She had been told by the White Star representative that this is where a casket would come through. As though William was no longer a person, but luggage.
She gestured to Sylvie to show her where they should go, and immediately felt the younger woman bristle.
"Are they joking? Through the luggage area? I don't bloody think so," said Sylvia in her Australian drawl. "We're finding someone right now to take care of this," she finished, tugging Ada along.
"Syl, I don't want to make a fuss-" started Ada.
"Nonsense, thirteen years and his life and they're treating William like a lost bag. The absolute cheek!" Sylvie had a bone between her teeth and wasn't about to let this go. She made her way over to the kiosk emblazoned with White Star Line pennants, her cane clicking on the floor in a furious tone to match her face.
The unsuspecting clerk was soon subject to a tirade of Antipodean anger, which sent him immediately scurrying to find a superior. Ada hadn't the energy to listen to the words, but Sylvia's tone said enough.
She prodded Ada over to a bench nearby, while they waited for the man to return. Sylvie looked at Ada.
"Who is the lady meeting us again?" she asked, although she recalled the details. She just wanted to get Ada talking, so she didn't focus too much on what was about to happen.
"Lowe said in his letter her name is Rose Dawson. Apparently, she was in the same boat as Will. She was pulled out of the water, and then…" Ada took in a breath then, collected herself, and continued,"… she said that there was also an officer with her."
Her eyes became teary then, and Sylvie squeezed her friend's hand comfortingly.
"William had been using his whistle, and this Rose heard him, swam over, and used the whistle to get Harold's attention. They saved Rose, but it was too late…" Ada let out a sob and held a handkerchief to her mouth, as though she could press it back in and hold back her grief.
With effort, she drew herself up straighter and breathed out, the motion gently rustling the veil on her hat.
"Harold said this lady stayed in the lifeboat with him until the crew of theCarpathiabrought Will onboard. And she offered to accompany him home as the officers were required to attend the inquiry in America."
Sylvie patted Ada's hand. "Sounds like she was the right person to do it if Charles and Harold couldn't. Charles had told me someone would accompany Will back, but he didn't have much time to elaborate, what with the hearing and all."
The women looked up as the clerk returned, this time with an older, more officious looking moustached man in tow who immediately made his way over to them.
"Ladies, please accept my profound apologies for the mistake. I am Mr Joyner, Dockside Services Manager here in Southampton. I had left strict instructions that I was to be told as soon as you were here and yet that was not done," he shot a look at the clerk at this.
"Of course, we have arranged for you to be personally taken to the ship and to meet your husband there, Mrs Murdoch. Please accept my sincere condolences. It is a sad thing indeed." He nodded solemnly, and gestured for the ladies to follow him.
After escorting them through the arrivals area, he took them towards the bow of the ship, where the undertaker's carriage waited. A small group of officers were there, along with the ship's Purser and a red-headed woman.
She looked small but strong, her pale features even paler against the dark navy blue of a coat a size too big and a small felt hat that didn't match. She must be Rose Dawson. The drizzle had now let up, but the skies were still gloomy, a match for the general mood.
As they approached the group, Rose turned around, her gaze immediately softening when she saw Ada in her widow's veil. Wordlessly, she came over and enveloped Ada in a hug, saying nothing with words but everything in the strength of her embrace.
Ada felt her gratitude, her sorrow and sympathy, and was immediately drawn to something else in this young woman as well. A certain energy about her immediately struck a chord with Ada and it was like greeting a friend she'd known for years. Rose didn't pull back until Ada released the hug, and then she took her hand, and reaching out her right to Sylvie, brought them over to stand beside the gangway.
"I'm Rose. And you must be Sylvie," she said, smiling at the raven-haired woman. "The officers said that the usual process is they will use the crane to bring him down to the dock. There's no direct access from the area he is in to bring him down the gangway like we walked down." She smiled reassuringly at the two women. "The officers wanted to be here, too. They hope that's all right with you, Mrs Murdoch."
Ada dabbed at her eyes with her free hand. "Yes, of course. Officers are family, after all," she replied, a bittersweet smile on her face. "I appreciate their care, but I don't think I can bring myself to talk to them just now," she finished, as she spotted the Captain, Henry Smith, coming down the gangway.
Sylvie understood and immediately went over to head him off before he could come over. She had known Smith for some time, so it was no insult to the gentleman, who knew her husband well. He would understand.
As they talked, Rose noticed the men glancing up at the deck, where a few seamen had gathered. She gestured to Ada, who raised her eyes to see the ship's boatswain there at the railing also.
They heard the call of a pipe then, as they saw the platform that contained William's casket come over the railing of the ship, slowly lowering towards the dock as the crew piped their fallen comrade to shore.
Ada's tears flowed freely then, as she slowly approached as the undertaker watched the officers gently remove the casket and place it onto the carriage. Kissing her black-gloved hand, then touching it to the polished wood, she closed her eyes for a moment. She'd waited to welcome her husband home, but not like this. Not like this.
Some time must have passed, before she heard the slap of shoes on the pavement and looked over to see the ship's officers, headed by the Captain, smartly saluting her. One by one, they dropped their hands, turned on their heels, and filed past, tipping their hats to her as they did so. Rose and Sylvie stood off to one side until they passed, then Sylvie stepped forward and gently took Ada by the elbow.
"They must take him now, Ada. I know it's hard, but you have to let them go," said Sylvie soothingly.
Rose came up on her other side and linked her arm through Ada's. "Let's get you back to Sylvie's, I think we could all do with a cup of tea," she smiled gently.
"Tea? Not likely," snorted Sylvie. "This calls for something stronger. A whiskey, in honour of our dear Will."
Ada let out a smile at that. "Yes, whiskey," she said, gently patting the coffin one last time. She nodded at the undertaker, who tipped his hat at her and closed the sides of the cart.
Rose squeezed Ada's arm. "You can tell me more about the man who saved my life," she said, her eyes shining. "He will be in my heart as long as I live."
Ada turned away then, holding onto her old friend and new, and they gradually made their way off the dock. Her grief was still raw and intense, but she didn't have to face it alone.