Chapter 19

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Those aboard the Californian, not fully realizing the scope of the Titanic, assumed it had sailed away. The young officer tells his second mate as he pointed out in the distance.

"That big steamer that was out there, sir. The one that was firing the rockets."

Second Mate Stone: "What about it?"

Gibson: "Well, she seems to have gone now, sir..." The second officer thought long and hard, as he looked out into the distance, where the Titanic had been prior, before calling once again to a sleeping Captain Lord. The captain wakes up, groggily, before he turns on his light to answer the call. He answers, "Yeah?"

Second officer Stone: "That big steamer, sir, the one that was firing the rockets...She seems to have gone now."

"And she didn't fire anymore rockets?" the captain asks.

"No sir."

"Very well. What's the time?"

Stone looks at his pocket watch. "2:30, sir."

"Well, enter it in the log." the captain says, before turning over and going back to his slumber.

It would soon be a little over two hours before actual help arrives, as the Carpathia races, full steam ahead now. The Olympic also races full steam ahead, not realizing that later, her rescue attempts would turn up futile.

Hundreds of people scream in agony in the frigid Atlantic, crying desperately for the boats to come and help. Jesse tries to block out the awful screams and cries, all the while he tries to keep himself afloat, despite the dangerously frigid water temperature and the starry night sky. All he sees around him, other than the supposed serene night sky, is the agony, pain and suffering, and the coming death. Nearby, he could barely make out in the darkness as two men got into a small scuffle as to who would get on a small wooden box that floated out of the ship. Somewhere in the darkness a shrilling sound of a whistle blew, followed by yelling and pleading that the boats come back and save them.

Jesse couldn't control himself at this point now. He slowly closed his eyes once more, putting his head down on the floating deck chair, as he felt the tears come again, and they rolled softly down his cheek. He began to cry softly at the deteriorating scene around him, his body shaking with every sob he makes, as the people around him begin to succumb to exposure and hypothermia. He also cries for his friends, as he put them into the lifeboat moments before he left with Rose. He also thought about Rose and Jack, and if they had saved themselves before the ship's final moments. He heard Jack say they were going to stay on board longer, but he hoped they got off sooner, and not foolishly staying for the final moments. Last, but not least, he cried for those who remained on the ship as it went down. Thomas Andrews wanted to give him a tour of the ship, is now gone. Captain Smith's last journey before retirement. All of the third-class passengers who were still stuck down in the ship, with no hope of survival. Jesse slowly looked up, and tried to wipe his eyes, only his clothes and body had become frozen to the chair. He began to gather all his courage and strength, to leave the sanctity of his floating chair, and to try once more to make it to a boat.

Now the exposure will kill me. I can't die, not tonight. He thought. I need to see my friends, family… That thought alone made him keep on going, as he felt fresh tears coming to his eyes again. They are warm and soothing, something he needed to have comfort with, besides from being in the cold Atlantic, as they slowly fell from his eyes and into the ocean. He prays that, hopefully, Jack and Rose had made it off the ship, and into a boat, while hoping they were not joining these people out here. Karl and Eric! What would they be thinking right now? There were a dozen of reasons for them to be cursing at Rose now, while she needed his help for the daring rescue for what seemed like ages, only it was just a few hours, of rescuing her love back on the ship. Karl. He's probably crying like a baby on that lifeboat, while Eric tries to comfort him, trying his best at being the brotherly figure, while Jesse was somewhere still on the ship, being trapped in the ship's flooded corridors; the funnels could have crushed him, or perhaps the worse ones; the ship's suction sucking him down, to be joined with the ship on the ocean floor; or crushed, by the stern falling, pushing him until he met the sea floor; ultimately, the ship would meet him there.

Thinking about this, he'd been in the cold water for some time and the exposure to the cloudless cold air is the ultimate. He needed to find someplace to take cover, but where? Jesse looked around, as the sea grew more quiet as time slowly passed, and more people died as they succumbed to exposure and hypothermia, and some of their bodies began to sink, to meet with the ship's final resting place. The boats were also quite a distance away, even if he was a strong, hardy swimmer; but here, the water was dangerously freezing, and he began to feel a sheet of ice forming around him, as the vast ocean began to freeze over. He tried to look once more, until he thought he could see a silhouette of someone trying to balance on what appeared to be a boat that had overturned during the chaos, and there were a few outlines of men on it against the starlit sky, and he thought he could hear some yelling, though faint, followed by the shrill of the whistle, coming from that direction. He ripped his frozen clothes from the chair and decided, for the last time, to make the final swim again, to salvation.

Jesse makes his final swim, his hair completely frozen, his clothes starting to shatter like glass as he tried to pull himself away from the now barely floating chair again, and to swim his way across the mass graveyard of corpses, to make it to the overturned boat. He was just part of the way when he was overcome, this time from exhaustion. He tried to look for another piece of wreckage to lay on, maybe even a boat, and his luck changed, for the better again, as his hand struck something solid. He tried to feel for the piece as he slowly swam along; wood first, then iron embedded within; it was a door!

Faced with exhaustion, pain and the cold, his body protesting every move he made, he fought his way to a piece of a door. With all his strength he had left over he managed to heave himself onto the door, hoping it wouldn't flip over, and dump him back into the ocean, possibly sinking and joining the ship in the process. Jesse finally made it over, then, with agonizing slowness, he turned to lay on his back. Every breath he made causes him to wince in pain, as if he had swallowed and is being stabbed by little pins of the sea. He knew he was now vulnerable as he was completely exposed to the outside now, his body soaked to the bone; the freezing Atlantic trying to claim him like its own prize, and this time, for sure, it's going to take him.

So, this is what dying feels like. he thought, as his eyes began to close. He could feel his heart rate beginning to slow down, as is his breathing. He no longer felt the cold air; his body became completely numb to any pain now. Even as the water lapped on the ship's debris he could not feel it. Worse, he could feel his body starting to shut down. His hearing slowly became echoes to the world around him, and his bodily movements became minimal, and his vision became nothing but a total blur…

He thought he could see the light…then his eyes slowly closed for the last time.

A single, warm tear gently rolled down the side of his face for the final time, before landing into the ocean, as he laid motionless on the door.

"God... …Take my hand… …I'm…coming home…"