"A Thousand Points of Light"
Author: carmen_085
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters from James Cameron's Titanic, not any real people. I do not own Titanic or any characters from the movie. I do own all original characters.
Summary: Fifth Officer Harold Lowe and Titanic's Nurse Clara Barnett lives become intertwined on the ship's maiden voyage when a young drifter is brutally beaten.
Prologue
Bronx, NY
March 1912
The apartment wasn't much but it was cheap and clean. Located on the second floor of a solid brick building, the large windows took in a considerable amount of morning sunlight. Gently pinching off the brown wilted leaves, Clara Barnett hoped that her small collection of house plants wouldn't be completely dead by the time she got back. Pursing her lips she shook her head. It was part of the deal and she knew that when she signed up with the White Star Line. She was going to be gone for weeks at a time on Trans-Atlantic crossings. Not being home and working like that was part of the reason she was being paid so much more.
's Hospital was a busy place, and getting busier everyday; the influx of immigrants into this country chiefly responsible. Everyday shiploads full were docking at Ellis Island, the poor huddled masses eventually weaving their way into the city only to find overcrowding and desperate conditions. Accident, disease, and chronic illness raged like none other and somedays she felt like she wouldn't have the strength to climb the two floors to her apartment and collapse into bed. Clara had been a nurse for three years now, graduating from the nursing school at St Luke's with twenty other women.
She felt lucky to have a job that provided her with a decent income and a clean, dry place to live. So many others weren't quite so lucky. Still…she wanted more. So when she came across the advertisement for the White Star Line she couldn't resist. She had no one to answer to except for herself so it seemed like an easy decision. More money and much fewer patients, unless a disease struck on board of course. A chance to see the world and travel in accommodations she'd otherwise never be able to afford. Collapsing onto the sofa, she stared at the tickets in front of her.
In two days she would sail to Southampton, England on the RMS Oceanic where she would prepare for the April 10th maiden voyage of the Titanic. She'd read about the ship in the papers and she had to admit that she was taken aback to be chosen for such an important voyage straight off. Of course her skills would be assessed on the Oceanic- technically her first posting- and then again in Southampton where she would meet the Ship's Doctor and learn of the protocols the company had in place. Clara wondered briefly if she was ready for such a thing but then quickly dismissed the idea. The White Star Line had seen her credentials and seemed more than enthusiastic that she wanted the job.
Lifting the paper she eyed the front page, her eyes falling on a story she'd already read half a dozen times.
"White Star Line 'Unsinkable' Titanic to set sail April 10, 1912; Rich and Famous Expected to Turn out for Maiden Voyage" Lifting the cup of coffee to her lips she smiled around the porcelain.
The Mediterranean was at a flat calm as he stared out from the bridge. His shift would be over in an hour and he could finally get some rest. Third Officer Harold Lowe had been excited with his posting as a senior officer on the Belgic but he had quickly realized the promotion came with so many more responsibilities. Twice as many shifts on the bridge, a daily ship inspection, and never ending sextant readings to confirm the instrumentation was accurate.
He'd been at sea for almost half his life and yet he'd still not found his way to a trans-Atlantic crossing. He worried that the slight was held against him as he tried to move into more premiere vessels. The money he made on the Belgic was decent but it wasn't great and he very much lived pay to pay. It wasn't a big deal right now because he was alone, much to his mother's dismay, and still had yet to marry. While his brother had married the first woman he'd come across, Harry was holding out for something as foolish as love. He knew it was doubtful that he'd find that at sea but it had taken years to get where he was now and he wasn't about to lose all that either.
Exhaling he rolled his shoulders. He knew what he looked like. An unmarried Officer, probably a different woman in his bed every night. Much to the contrary, however, he spent most of his nights alone. For whatever reason he'd never enjoyed the company of a crowd and much preferred he to spend whatever free time he had sleeping, reading, or walking around the boat deck. He was boring in every way and the last few women he'd courted had told him as much; thoroughly frustrated with his demeanor and the life of a sailor.
"Mr. Lowe. A telegram for you, Sir." He turned seeing the ship's wireless operator approach him with ducked eyes. He'd still not gotten use to his station on the ship as a senior officer. Taking the folded piece of paper he nodded being sure to acknowledge the young man with sincerity.
"Thank you." He was no better than any other man here, they all had a job to do after all.
Turning back out to the calm, dark sea. He unfolded the paper, his eyes squinting in the meager lighting to read the neat scrawl. He read the words once, twice, three times before folding the message back up and slipping it into his pocket. Leaning his elbows on the polished wood he bowed his head for a moment and let out a sigh of relief. When the Belgic docked in Southampton he was being transferred to Belfast and the Titanic. He was finally getting his shot. Corners of his lips twitching up into a smile he looked back out at the sea. His life was finally coming together.
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