]I found myself pacing the promenade by the bridge, my eyes constantly going to the white water that foamed around the ship as we cut through the seas. Rigel panted as we took another lap, and I briefly slowed up to allow him a rest. I wasn't the only thing going slow.

Lusitania was far slower than had been promised.

The past few days when the mile lottery announcements had been made, and I found myself one of the few who seemed to realize exactly how slow we were traveling. I couldn't tell the exact speed we were doing, but having crossed on her speedy sister, I knew our ship was lagging behind. Not to mention, during my walks on the promenade, I had noticed that her fourth funnel, painted the same dull dark gray as the others as opposed to the usual cheery red and black Cunard preferred, remained quiet. No smoke issued up, no steam hissed through its pipes, it was silent.

Hence my vigil outside the bridge, I was hoping to speak to Captain Turner about exactly why we were going so slow. At this rate we might not even make Liverpool on time. But the captain had yet to make an appearance, and I had been waiting for hours despite the fact that the weather still had not improved. Alfred had accompanied me for about ten minutes before declaring me insane and retreating to the smoking room.

The weather at least kept Theodate and Elbert away.

Theodate had tried to join me for breakfast the day after the séance, complaining of how she had her cabin moved due to a noisy family next door. Part of me congratulated the children for annoying her, and part of me dearly hoped that she had not been moved closer to me. I had shaken her off when Rigel had been brought to me during a promenade, she was rather jumpy around him. A large dog was apparently more than this great medium could handle. Rigel had put a paw on her leg, and she had almost jumped a foot backwards before hastily excusing herself.

Elbert had pestered me once again about speaking to him about Titanic, how I had met Will and the loss of Father. He seemed to think that there was some great romance to be found in the tragedy, I had demurred again and again about giving an interview. He wouldn't get a word out of me, despite his attempts. Which meant that I had been forced to sit and listen to him wax rhapsodic about the great tragedies of the world.

The Civil War, the Titanic, the war currently raging, all of them described so eloquently by Elbert that others had come to join our table simply to hear him speak of it. And then Elbert's artist community, Roycroft, had been brought up. That had led to a lecture on the evils of modern fashion and how there was no spirit to artistry in New York.

I was dearly glad when Rigel had whined and tugged at his leash, freeing me from any obligation to listen to them insult my friends and family.

After giving him the slip, I had enjoyed time in the reading and writing room, wandering the shelter and promenade deck, and counting down the miles to Liverpool, where hopefully the weather was better. I shivered, thinking about the hours I had spent out here waiting to speak to the captain. The lounge sounded wonderful, warm and with a drink in my hand, and I pursed my lips when I looked to the bridge and saw only a senior officer outside. I marched up to the railing separating the bridge, calling out. "Sir, is Captain Turner available?"

He looked over his shoulder, then approached. "Ma'am?"

"I'd like to speak to Captain Turner." I held my head high. "Is he available at the moment?"

The officer pursed his lips. "Ma'am-"

"Mrs. Murdoch."

"Mrs. Murdoch, if this is about the lifeboat drills, Captain Turner already assured Mr. Kessler that he will consider his suggestion about passenger involvement."

I fought down stamping my foot, there was no need to be childish. "It's not, I wanted to inquire about our speed. We're going slow."

"I can assure you we're proceeding along with all speed."

"We're not. I know we're not." I gestured back towards the funnels. "The fourth funnel isn't putting out any smoke, which means one of the boiler rooms isn't running. And it isn't a dummy funnel, I know those well enough." I raised an eyebrow at his shocked expression. "I run a shipping company, sir, I may not be able to tie the knots but I do know about sailing."

The officer leaned in, "Mrs. Murdoch, I can assure you that Captain Turner wishes we could proceed with all four boiler rooms running. There is a lack of coal available for liners at the moment, and we're running a reduced crew due to the war. You have my word though; Lusitania can still outrun any U-boat despite this."

"Your words are a great comfort." I replied, "Although I still wish to talk to the captain."

"I will pass on your concerns." The officer nodded, then turned on his heel. I was cursing under my breath as I pulled my coat tighter around myself, Rigel trotting in my wake. The Royal Navy was taking all the coal, and the sailors, which meant Cunard suffered. They couldn't have even topped up in New York, without the men to shovel it there wasn't much point to fully loading coal that wouldn't be used.

I was sipping on a rum punch, still grumbling to myself, when Alfred reappeared. Rigel set his tail to thumping as he joined me at the bar. "Well, you look in a fine fettle."

"We're not at full speed." I muttered, finishing my drink and gesturing for the bartender to fill it again. "I don't even know if we'll get there on time."

"You talked to the captain?"

"I tried, but honestly Alfred, look! All the funnels aren't putting out smoke, the low numbers are winning the miles lottery. It's obvious." I rolled my eyes, "Mr. Kessler already put the captain on edge, bothering him about the lifeboat drills."

Alfred accepted a glass of whiskey from the bartender. "You know, I've wondered about them too. Why can't they just lower a boat away while we're moving? If we're slow, we should be able to pull them back up right quick."

I chuckled, "Alfred, really, those boats weigh tons. It would be dangerous to lower them away all the time, and even if we did, the ship has to be stopped or else the boat floats back underneath all the others. And the propellers! My God, they could get sucked in and smashed to bits. It's enough that the crew knows where to go when needed, we all know we need to get to the top deck."

"I wasn't looking for a lecture." Alfred grumbled, "We're only a couple days out. You're just anxious to see your husband."

"Of course, I am," I smiled, "I can't wait to see him again."

I knew Alfred was right, that I was just anxious about seeing Will, but I was still worried over our speed when I came down to dinner that night. It distracted me from another worry, Mother. She would be furious with me when I got home, I had attempted to send her a wire after we had shoved off, a simple reassurance, only to be told that the ship would not be transmitting messages for this crossing. I had no doubt she would send a letter lecturing me for my lack of communication, although I hoped when I got back she would at least let me explain before taking me to task.

I must have appeared quite off-putting with my concerns written plain on my face, for Mr. Hubbard only stopped briefly at my table, a donation basket in his hand. "Mrs. Murdoch, will you be joining the concert tonight?"

I shook my head, "I can't sing, I can't dance on my own, and the only thing I'm good at is looking pretty in fancy dresses, and I didn't even pack any of those." I did dip a hand into my purse though, "However I assume you're taking donation for the Seaman's Charity?"

He grinned, shrugging. "The stewards asked me to help, they figured I would be more convincing. Do they do this concert often?"

"It's a tradition." I muttered, remembering the night that Father had treated the entire dining room to a very loud, and slightly slurred, rendition of Lorena that had lacked all the melancholic heartsickness the ballad usually entailed. Of course, one had to sit through charity functions and had to appear to be engaged, so I was rather looking forward to my bed as dinner progressed, even though it would be a while before I fell into it.

I was sipping my glass of sherry, watching a man dressed as Bonnie Prince Charlie fumble his way through a Gaelic song and thinking how Will would have found it insulting, when I noticed an older man in uniform, worn dimples in his face, had approached the stage. I sat up straighter, nothing the markings on his cuff.

After the Bonnie Prince was cheered, Captain Turner mounted the stage. He appeared a bit ill at ease, twisting his hands around themselves as he was applauded. He coughed, "Ladies and gentlemen, we have just entered the war zone surrounding Great Britain." That set off a murmur around the passengers, and he held out a calming hand. "All precautions are being taken to ensure the safety of the ship, I assure you. The Royal Navy is already on their way to escort us to Liverpool. However, I would ask that you assist us with his, keeping your portholes closed and lights off if you can, and gentlemen please avoid smoking on deck." He gave a smile then, "We should reach Liverpool on time, and Cunard would like to extend their thanks for traveling with us."

I applauded politely as he ducked his head, quickly leaving the dinning saloon. He didn't want to linger amongst the gilded columns, the second story of tables and chairs under the glittering glass dome. He would prefer the plainer bridge, the officer's mess and his own cabin. Part of me wanted to join him, to see if any of his men had sailed with Will and hear their stories.

It was better than hearing the chatter of my fellow passengers as the concert broke up. The talk was entirely focused on the war, and the personal precautions that they were taking in case we were attacked in the night. Some were talking about teaching others to don their lifebelts, and one man loudly proclaimed his plan to spend the night in a lifeboat.

Their words were still twisting in my head when I reached my cabin, even Rigel seemed to notice. He joined me on my bed, doing his best to get himself into my lap and paw at me for attention. I scratched his belly absentmindedly, staring at the lifebelt at the foot of my bed. I could have tried to sleep in it, but those cork blocks were hard. Instead, I pulled it up right next to me, leaning it against the wall and curling myself around Rigel.

It was still staring at me when a foghorn woke me in the morning, a low, mournful tone that set the whole ship to groaning it seemed. I fumbled out of bed, dislodging Rigel as I stumbled to the porthole. I drew the curtain aside, confronted with a solid wall of gray outside. We'd sailed into a fog bank, which meant going even slower in order to avoid colliding with anything.

Along with sounding the fog horn every minute, that loud monotonous tone cutting through the air and no doubt disturbing every passenger. I half expected to see the fog ripple as the horn sounded again, but everything remained a perfectly still milky gray. Being so high up, close to the bridge, and having a porthole made the noise even worse inside my cabin, and Rigel began to whine as the horn refused to be silent.

I leaned down, comforting him. "How about we get some breakfast and get out of here for a bit?"

He was still whining and unsure of what was happening while I dressed in a simple white shirtwaist and dark blue skirt, pulling my coat around me before I grabbed his leash. He seemed glad to get out of the cabin, farther into the ship where the horn wasn't quite so loud.

The stewards were not as pleased to see him in the dining saloon, even less so when I asked for a plate of eggs for him.

Being wealthy did have some benefits though, as a few dollars were quickly handed over to ensure Rigel had something to eat. I happily ate my way through everything that was brought, which was most of the menu, aside from kippers. I had never quite enjoyed fish that early in the day, I preferred sweet to savory in the morning. But this would be the last day I was breakfasting alone, or at least one of the last. We would be off Liverpool soon enough, and depending on the tide, we may be in early enough for me to take the morning train to London and I could be in Southampton by the afternoon.

The couple next to me must have noticed my mood, not to mention Rigel, for the husband leaned over. "Glad to be almost done with this?"

I nodded, "Yes, it will be a relief to get back on dry land."

"Well, we're going to be there soon." The wife tittered, "As will our escort, those poor sailors will hopefully get some time on shore before going back out."

"Escort?" I cocked my head, "I didn't see one this morning, but then again with this fog, who could?"

The husband raised an eyebrow, "Oh, we saw them. We got up early to watch the sunrise, before the fog set in, and they were right there. A battleship if you'd believe it!"

"Oh my." I blinked, hoping that my tone didn't set him to wondering. It didn't make much sense in my mind, to send a battleship to escort an ocean liner. Battleships were valuable, crewed by over a thousand, and relatively slow. Even without her full complement of boilers running, Lusitania could still leave them in her wake with little effort. I reached down to lift Rigel's now clean plate, "How could you tell?"

"Three funnels," The husband closed his eyes, bringing the ship to mind. "And guns fore and aft."

"How many guns?"

He shrugged, "I can't say I saw. Do you know someone on a battleship?"

"My husband, he's the captain of a battlecruiser." I dabbed at my lips with my napkin, "I'm on my way to see him."

"Well, give him our regards and our thanks for his protection!" The lady waved as I collected Rigel and set off. It felt odd to wander through the fog, although Rigel enjoyed it. His tail set it to stirring and then he would try and snap at what swirled around him. I spent a good deal of time on a deck chair, watching him play and forgetting about how slow we were going.

"Does he always bite his tail?" A voice chuckled; Alfred having walked up while I was distracted. "Or just onboard?"

I shrugged, "At home he has a few bones to chew on and gets walks in the park. I think he's just bored here."

"Aren't we all." Alfred sighed, sitting next to me. "Honestly, the séance and the concert last night were the only highlights of this trip."

"We should be glad for a boring trip." I teased, "Proved the papers wrong! Besides, all the excitement will be in Britain."

"Oh yes, me reviewing our business while you fall into the arms of your husband."

"I'll be checking in on my business too." I snorted, "There's plenty I'll check in on. The reports from there have been disappointing." I twisted Rigel's leash around my hand. "We're having to hire more women; all the men are going to war."

Alfred rolled his eyes, "As if that bothers your family."

"Oh it doesn't, but we still need some men around. I'd have no problem hiring women as longshoremen, but there aren't very many trained for it."

"Sounds as if you need to start up a school."

I grinned, "That's always a thought, although it would get people riled up. With secretaries and clerks they can at least say it's women's work, however being a porter is an entirely different game."

"My cousin certainly did his share of complaining when your husband made him work." Alfred leaned back, looking out. "The fog is clearing up."

"Finally." I stood, stretching my arms out and seeing that the fog indeed was thinning. "I think I can see Ireland."

"And I think I can see your dear friend Mr. Hubbard coming." Alfred glanced over towards one of the doors, a good number of passengers coming out to enjoy the freshening weather. "Perhaps you'd like to give him an interview?"

"And perhaps you would like to save a lady with a promenade." I quickly turned around, holding out my hand. Alfred quickly had it tucked around his arm, setting quick pace for us. Once we had gotten some distance from the others, he slowed up. We both did, watching as the ship began a slow turn towards the indistinct blur that was Ireland.

But then that was gone as we rounded the end of the promenade, coming up on the starboard side. The sun was shining off a flat calm sea, and I couldn't help but feel giddy. Hopefully the weather was just as good in Southampton, for I wanted to do so many things with Will, including a picnic. Just a moment of normalcy, a moment of us being together and doing something without the war intruding. Alfred paused, glancing out across the water. "Say, Anastasia, what is that?"

I peered out into the distance, seeing a white streak passing through the waves. It looked almost like a trail, or a wake. It was shooting like an arrow towards the ship, just behind where we were. A yell went up from one of the lookouts, indistinct but clearly panicked and drew the attention of the other passengers on the promenade. My heart stopped, and I gripped Albert's arm tightly.

"Alfred, that's a-"