Chapter 42
Tommy
Carpathia
April 16, 1912
Ticking. Ticking filled his ears.
Tommy was in the icy water, staring up in horror as the Titanic continued to sink, its stern rising higher and higher in the air. He could see people falling; splashing in the water around him, yet all he could hear was the ticking of a clock.
The stern had risen so high that the ship could no longer bear the weight. THere was a deafening crack and Tommy watched with horror as the stern began to fall directly over where he was floating.
He watched, unable to move, as the stern fell, knowing it would crush him. The ticking grew louder and louder until the propellers were so close he could reach out and touch them–
"Sir?"
Tommy sat up in bed, panting with sweat dripping from his temples. He had to blink several times as his vision was blurry. Why was the room spinning?
He grabbed the bowl on the table next to his cot and vomited, groaning loudly. He felt a cool cloth being pressed against his forehead as he slumped back into his sheets.
"Where am I?" he mumbled, closing his eyes. The light pouring in from the windows made his head hurt and the room was still teetering ever so slightly.
"You're on the Carpathia," a young woman replied. "We rescued you after the Titanic sank."
Tommy opened one eye. There was a stewardess standing over his bed. She was about his age, with blonde hair piled on top of her head. She took the bowl from him and covered it with a handkerchief, setting it aside.
Ah, yes.
It was slowly coming back to him. He remembered the panic on deck, Fabrizio's lifeless eyes staring into his, feeling the icy water taking them both to the sea.
"How did I get here?" he asked. "What day is it?"
The stewardess put her hand on his forehead, removing the cool cloth to his annoyance. "It's April Sixteenth. You were one of the lifeboats but were unconscious when brought aboard. It took five men to haul you into the dining saloon." She glanced over her shoulder. "The doctor's here. I'll tell him you're awake."
As she walked away, Tommy glanced around him. The room seemed hazy and he had to look away once more from the light. Cots like his lined the walls of the dining saloon, the chairs and tables long since cleared away. Those like him who were lucky to have a cot were covered in bandages, sleeping or moaning in pain. Others sat on the floor, sleeping by using pieces of clothing as blankets and pillows. He could make out the sound of weeping, almost as if it was coming from the very heart of the ship.
He glanced down at his shirt. These were not his clothes, as he saw they were now folded neatly in the chair next to his bed. Panic began to fill him as he realized his pocket watch was missing. He felt wildly at the clothes he was wearing before attempting to stand up to go through his clothes from the sinking. His left leg was being stubborn and refused to move, leaving him grasping for the clothes which were just out of his reach.
"How are you feeling?"
The stewardess was back at his side with the doctor. They were both eyeing him suspiciously as he was nearly halfway out of the bed.
"My pocket watch," Tommy said. "Has anyone seen my pocket watch? It's small and silver–"
The doctor came to his side, moving the pile of clothes and sitting in the chair. "What's your name?" he asked, a clipboard ready in his hands.
Tommy raised an eyebrow, still not letting his clothes leave his sight. "Tommy Ryan."
"Do you know why you're here?" the doctor asked, frantically scribbling down notes.
Tommy glanced at the stewardess who was looking at him with concern. "Aye, I was sailing to New York on the Titanic."
The doctor glanced up. "What's the last thing you remember from the night of the sinking?"
Tommy felt his head begin to pound. He rubbed his temples, trying to ease the pain. "I just remember splashing about in the cold water."
The stewardess came to the doctor's side. "He doesn't seem to remember he was in a lifeboat," she said to him in a low voice.
Tommy opened his eyes to see the doctor motion to his clothes. "Well, he was in the water at some point. That explains the hypothermia."
Tommy sat up in bed again. "Jack! Jack Dawson!"
The doctor took out a light and flashed it into Tommy's eyes. It felt like someone had split open his skull as he stared at it and he swatted the light away, sending it flying across the room.
"What the bloody hell was that for?" Tommy growled.
"Are you sure you're alright?" the doctor asked. "You're suffering from a severe concussion."
Tommy was brought back to when he had been on Titanic's decks, caught in a large wave that had engulfed those around him. He barely remembered that he had been dragged under and someone had kicked him in the head. He must have had so much adrenaline pulsing through his body that he had barely noticed it at the time.
"Jack Dawson," Tommy repeated. "Please, I was with Jack Dawson when the ship was sinking. There was a girl with him… Rose, I think. Do you know if they survived?"
The doctor went back to taking notes on his clipboard. "We're still taking names of survivors. We'll put a list out as soon as all the names are collected."
Tommy slumped back into his cot, feeling the stubbornness of his leg. He motioned at it, looking at the stewardess this time. "What's going on with this, eh?"
The doctor handed the clipboard to the stewardess and rolled back the sheets on the bed. Tommy's left leg looked strange: red and purple and slightly swollen. He could move it, but it felt like his entire leg had fallen asleep.
"Hypothermia and frostbite," the doctor said flatly. "It's treatable, but it will take time. The swelling and numbness will go down in a day or two."
"So what? I just lie here?" Tommy said, throwing the sheets over his leg so he wouldn't have to look at it anymore. "Where are we going anyway?"
"To New York," the stewardess answered. "We'll be there in two days. You'll be transferred to a hospital there."
"Rest," the doctor said. "That concussion won't let you get far anyway. Besides, your wife will probably be here to see you soon. She'll help get you back into shape."
All thoughts of his missing pocket watch were gone. "My wife?"
The stewardess nodded. "She comes by every couple of hours to check on you. She'll be so happy to know you're awake."
Tommy simply stared at them. He had a wife? How hard had his head been kicked for him to have forgotten that? But as he looked at the way the doctor was studying him, he knew they probably thought he was delirious from his concussion and would be ready to admit him to an insane asylum if he showed any more signs of being confused. But as he thought, he could remember a girl pulling him from the water, her dark eyes full of strength and her dark hair spilling around her shoulders.
Was this the wife they were speaking of?
