Chapter 44
Andrew
Liverpool
April 17, 1912

Andrew stared intently out his window as his train pulled into the Liverpool station. It had taken the entire morning to get here, leaving Dumfries before the sun had risen. At every station he had bought that morning's papers, collecting half a dozen by the time they had reached England. Half of them stated everyone on board the Titanic had survived, the others said there were only seven-hundred survivors.

He still hadn't received any news that Jock or Nellie had survived. Many of his neighbors had come flocking to his house over the last couple of days, including the priest. Many of them had reassured Andrew that his children were fine because of their second-class tickets. The only thing all six newspapers could agree upon was that the Carpathia had been the one to pick up survivors and would dock in New York City tomorrow. Andrew prayed someone would send him a telegram to let him know what had happened.

He had come to Liverpool to escape his nosy neighbors and squash all rumors once and for all by going directly to The White Star Line's office. The train station was just a few blocks away and he eagerly began the short walk. For a moment, he felt as if his life had returned to some form of normalcy as he walked down the street. People were bustling about, going on with their daily lives. Andrew had grown used to the people of Dumfries huddled together on street corners, whispering excitedly about that day's news about the Titanic, all the while staring at Andrew as he darted in and out of his house. No one stared at him here, no one seemingly even knowing there had been an accident at sea.

All of that came crashing down when The White Star Line's office came into view.

It was a similar sight as the Dumfries newspaper office when he saw the building. People were crowded at the base of the steps leading up to the main entryway. Many were talking amongst themselves, some crying, while others were holding up signs and making their frustrations known. He pushed his way through, looking up to see a man in uniform standing in front of the office door. Andrew raced up the steps until he was standing nose to nose with the man.

"May I come in?" Andrew pleaded. "My children were on the Titanic. I've come all the way from Dumfries."

The man looked at Andrew with sympathy but straightened his posture. "I'm afraid only employees are allowed in at this time, sir."

Andrew glanced behind him. It looked like he wasn't the only one who had come to Liverpool to find out more news about the Titanic. He could hear people shouting in both English and Gaelic, even some Welsh, bemoaning their loved ones.

"See how they treat us?" a woman said to Andrew rejoined the crowd. "How can they expect us to go home and wait while I don't know if my sister is dead or alive?"

Andrew pulled his hat lower over his eyes, trying to keep his breath steady as he thought of Jock. Just as he was about to press back towards the door of The White Star Line's office, he noticed a strange shadow.

He glanced up. It was an unusually clear day for spring in Britain. The sky was a brilliant blue, no sign of a cloud anywhere. But all around him was being cast into darkness, as if the sun was setting. He glanced at his watch, which read it was 11:17 in the morning.

"It's an eclipse!"

Andrew dared not look up as others around him were doing, shielding their eyes and blinking wildly as they looked to the sky. They were plunged into a strange darkness, almost as if it was dusk.

"It's an omen!" someone cried. "God is showing us we're being punished for our sins!"

There was a scuffle and the man who had spoken was quickly cast into the streets, narrowly avoiding being hit by a motorcar. Many were yelling at his accusations, declaring God was not so cruel. Andrew remained deathly still until the eclipse had passed. It wasn't until the doors to the The White Star Line opened and a well dressed man informed the crowd there was no new information to share that Andrew finally walked away. It was time to stop messing around with local newspapers and the offices of the liners that only had general information of what had happened. He needed to find a place that could tell him what had happened to his son.

The whole town was abuzz from the eclipse, continuing to point up into the sky well after it had ended as Andrew made his way through Liverpool. There was an office even closer to the port where Andrew knew he could get more recent information.

Andrew climbed the steps to the Black Music Agency. This was the place Jock had contracted with to get him out of Dumfries and out on the Atlantic a few years ago. This agency also contracted with the Cunard and White Star Line liners to provide musical entertainment on board. They no doubt must have specific information about the Titanic, knowing there was a great chance they had loaned out instruments to be played aboard.

Unlike The White Star Line, there was no angry crowd outside the agency's doors. In fact, when he entered the small building, it was almost too calm. The receptionist barely glanced up at him as she continued to type.

"May I help you?" she asked flatly.

"Is Charles Walton in?" Andrew asked, puffing out his chest. "My name is Andrew Hume. I sent him a telegram letting him know to expect me."

The receptionist glanced down at the large diary before her. "I'll let him know."

He only had to wait a few minutes before the large door behind the receptionist's desk was opened. A pudgy man stepped out, nearly a foot shorter than Andew and invited him in.

"Mr. Hume," Mr. Walton said as he shook his hand. Andrew settled himself in the chair opposite his desk, taking his hat off and rubbing his forehead. "It's been a long time. I wish we were seeing each other in better circumstances."

Andrew went right to the point. "What news of Jock?"

Mr. Walton pursed his lips. "Mostly rumors. The White Star Line won't tell us anything more than they tell the papers. Trying to keep a lid on this until the investigations begin."

"I'll take any information you can give me," Andrew said. "It's not just Jock. My eldest daughter and two grandchildren were on board. I just came from The White Star Line where they were no help at all."

Mr. Walton nodded. "The only rumors I've heard is that the orchestra was last seen playing 'Nearer My God to Thee' as the ship sank." He paused, studying Andrew. "I haven't received any telegrams from any of the musicians we had on board."

Andrew's heart sank. Jock would have let his family, or at least the damn Costins know if he was alive. But there was also Nellie and her children. Based on what the papers were saying, Nellie had the best chance of surviving. Why hadn't he heard from either of them?

"My sources have told me that the band made no attempt to get on a lifeboat," Mr. Walton continued. "If they survived, they were more than likely pulled from the water."

Andrew blinked slowly, knowing full well what the survival rate was of those who had been unlucky enough to be submerged in the Atlantic this time of year. "You needn't say more," he said, standing up. "My son is dead."

Mr. Walton stood as well. "Don't lose hope, Mr. Hume. The Carpathia is said to dock in New York tomorrow. We'll know more when the American papers finally get to see the survivors."

Andrew merely left, not even bothering to close the door behind him as he rushed back onto the bustling sidewalk. He had come for the information he needed and would hopefully be able to catch a train home that afternoon.

His heart was pounding as he entered the nearby telegram office, his hands shaking as he wrote out his message and paid. He couldn't bear to come home and watch Kate break out in hysteria at the news. He prayed this message would be delivered before he arrived home. He needed a few hours to think and plan what to do when Jock's death was confirmed.

ORCHESTRA WENT DOWN WITH THE SHIP PLAYING 'NEARER MY GOD TO THEE'