Ezekiel blew into his hands, rubbing them together as he exited his cabin. Bedford Basin was cold, colder than he liked. He would have much preferred to be back in New York with Samantha, their apartment had a fireplace that warmed the place wonderfully. And Samantha had laid extra blankets on the bed, enough that it made it hell to leave it, especially when she was curled up around him.
He pursed his lips, thinking of her.
Samantha had not wanted him to leave, she was terrified of the U-boats, and for good reason. David had been fished out of the sea not two months ago, his ship having been lost. Anastasia had been good though, putting him up in that hospital of hers until he'd gotten over the nasty cold he'd caught. She'd even sent him home on in a comfortable cabin on a fast ship and with three months salary in his pockets. Morgan had refused to allow him to even think about returning to work, as far as she was concerned all her sons should be thinking about now revolved around her grandchildren.
His brothers already had presented her with a boy and a girl, and Samantha was in the early stages of her first. He hadn't wanted to leave either, not with her in that state, but it was getting to the point where if he wasn't working, there was more risk at home. The captain of a merchant ship was an essential position requiring a skilled sailor, as such they were exempted from the draft. If he stopped working, if any of his brothers stopped working, then they would be entered into the draft.
Samantha had pouted when he had explained it to her, but she had understood. He was planning to bring her back plenty of presents for Christmas, and to take pictures for her. The convoy they were joining had soothed her mind a bit, but she wanted to see it for herself. Since she couldn't go to Canada in her current state, he had bought a camera and intended to take pictures for her. He lifted the camera to his eye for a moment, snapping a picture of the ships filling the basin.
One of his officers noticed, "Plenty of company for the run across."
"Hopefully they'll distract the subs if we get caught." He chuckled, "We just have to be faster than them."
"You should get a shot of the navy ships when we head out," The officers jerked his chin towards the Narrows, the channel that would lead them out to the Atlantic. Waiting out there were British and Canadian warships, ready to escort them across. Ezekiel would have preferred that the convoy had already formed and they were off, but the other ships had been slow to arrive. Storms had delayed departures, and the Northern Star had lingered in the basin for days as the other cargo ships straggled in. They could only enter the basin during the day, the submarine nets being put up at night to prevent any U-boat from entering and acting like a fox in a henhouse.
Ezekiel had rolled his eyes at the thought of a U-boat getting all the way across the Atlantic, but it did make everyone feel safer.
Now though, now almost the ships had arrived and they'd gotten the signal to prepare for assembling out at sea tomorrow. Having arrived so early though, they were stuck towards the back of the rush to get out. His crew had nothing to do but drink coffee and stamp their feet against the cold. Truth be told, he wouldn't be surprised if most of them had fled to the furnaces to stay warm. But he and his officers needed to stay on the bridge in order to keep track goings on.
Which for the moment, meant watching pilot boats and tugs attending to the other ships entering the harbor. One of his officers joked that they should take bets on exactly when they would join the convoy, the worst odds being that the entire group wouldn't be able to make it out of the Narrows and into the Atlantic for a week. Ezekiel laughed at that, "Give me a dollar on that, wouldn't be the first time things got delayed."
They all perked up as steam whistles began to echo in the air, a complicate series of blasts that would have made no sense to anyone not a sailor. An officer raised a brow, "Someone's being a stubborn ass."
"There," Another one spoke up, binoculars in his hands. "In the Narrows, they're going to hit."
Ezekiel raced for his own pair, holding them in one hand and the camera in the other. He quickly had them focused, "Someone was going up the channel the wrong way." Most of the men had binoculars now, but Ezekiel knew every one of them winced when the sound of three whistles blasted through, followed shortly by the sound of metal tearing and scraping. "Guess reversing didn't work."
Most of the others only nodded, far too focused on trying to see the details of the collision from where they were in the back of the Basin. His chief drew his binoculars away, his face grim. "There's smoke."
"A fire?" Another one pressed his binoculars tighter to his face. "Christ, she's close to town. A tug had better pull her out, if she drifts into the docks the whole waterfront could go up."
"They'll pull her into the channel," Ezekiel swept his binoculars over the channel, watching the plume of smoke beginning to appear. "Once they pump enough water over her to put the fire out more than likely she'll just get tied up for repairs."
"Look, others are coming up."
"That tug's hose isn't going to do much."
"Good timing on that navy ship, looks like they sent a boat over to tie a tow line."
Ezekiel blinked, then peered closer. "Are those lifeboats?" He swung his binoculars over the water, seeing white painted boats pulling from away from the burning ship. "Christ, they're really pulling for it."
"Wouldn't you want to get away from a burning ship, Captain?" One of his other officers chuckled, watching as the boats veered towards the shore. The ship was still burning, and had begun drifting towards the pier. "Well, we won't be getting out of here tomorrow."
"The odds are leaning towards me then." Ezekiel smirked, pulling up the camera to snap a picture of the massive black column that was only growing.
He still had the camera up when the explosion happened.
When Ezekiel looked back on his life, he could see the blast itself. A massive ball of flame that tore whatever poor ship had caught fire apart, a force that he could almost see. Until the day he died he would swear that he saw the bottom of the harbor when the ship blew, the water blown away by the force of the explosion. That same force threw him and the officers backwards, the roar of it tearing at their ears. His own ears were still ringing when he managed to lift his head, seeing the massive wave headed for them. He shoved one officer towards the railing, screaming. "Everyone hang on!"
He grabbed the nearest railing, his fingers white as the wall of water smashed into the ship. They weren't the only ones hit by the wave, the other ships of their convoy swaying and straining at their anchors as it tore through them. Some anchors snapped, their ships borne away until they grounded on the shore. He sent up a brief prayer that their anchor would hold, that the wave that had obviously been generated by the explosion wouldn't see them wrecked on the rocks. "God, you had better see me through this. If I don't make it home Samantha will kill me, I want to see my kid. Don't let it snap, God, please don't."
The Almighty smiled on him then, for the anchor held and while the ship still rolled violently, the worst of the danger had passed with the ship relatively unharmed. The same could not be said for the other ships though, let alone the town. Once his ears had stopped ringing and he was able to stumble to his feet, he grabbed up his binoculars. Thankfully neither the explosion, or the fact that he had dropped them, had cracked the lenses.
He swung them towards Halifax itself, but there was little to see beyond smoke and flame. He looked to the channel itself, seeing wreckage floating on the water and one of the ships involved in the collision grounded on the other side of the channel where it had been flung. The town on the other side of the Narrows, Dartmouth, was practically flattened. He was vaguely aware of the other officers getting to their feet, hands coming up from below to see what had happened. His chief spoke up, his voice shaky. "Sir? What happened?"
Ezekiel dropped his binoculars, "That ship exploded, must have been full of munitions." He looked away from the fire, already hearing cries being born over the wind. "The town's gone."
"Christ above," The man stared out towards the fire. "What should we do?"
That made Ezekiel think, for there was obviously no way the convoy would be gathering now. By all rights they should head back to New York to wait for another convoy rendezvous point to be established and then they should deliver their cargo to Southampton. He looked back to his officers, "What are we carrying again?"
One of the juniors spoke up, "Canned food, tires, uniforms, blankets, other dry goods."
"All right," Ezekiel stood up from the railing, sure of his course now. "First, get the carpenter to sound the ship. We won't do anyone good if we sink here in the harbor." He gestured to the cracked glass that had once been the bridge windows. "Ask him if those would be better left or knocked out. Have the wireless boys get in contact with New York and let them know what happened. Tell them we're turning our cargo over to the survivors to provide relief."
His chief pursed his lips, "The client won't be pleased."
"The client can deal with Mrs. Dalian, she'll set them straight." Ezekiel snapped, "Have the boats swung out and row the hands into town. Help out wherever you can, do whatever is needed." He looked to his chief, "Get in contact with a harbor pilot and tell him we're donating our cargo to the town, we'll need to get to some pier to unload it."
The man nodded, "Aye, sir. Will you be staying or going in?"
"I'm going to help," Ezekiel was already making for the boats. "And I don't think we'll be alone." They weren't, other ships were already swinging out their lifeboats and loading them with parties of men. It was a veritable fleet of them that made their way through the smoke and ash towards the first dock they could find. Boats were lashed to any dock that could be found; men hardly caring if they were tied simply to another boat. They wanted up the dock, where they could go into town and help.
The first wave of smoke that blew towards him was enough to make Ezekiel pull his scarf up over his face, but he still found himself coughing. When they reached the end of the dock, he paused a moment to look around. Whatever had been here before was simply rubble now, piles of brick and stone. He glanced towards one pile, stepping closer. Something was shifting in the rubble, and he hastily began to grab bricks and throw them aside.
More hands joined him, the pile slowly reduced to reveal a bruised and bloodied arm. The first man to reach for it was shoved back, for if they pull now they would likely pull the arm clean off the man still buried beneath the rubble. More bricks were moved, Ezekiel unaware of how his gloves were slowly turning red with dust, all he cared about was when they finally got the man out and away from the bricks. Some of the men went to find whatever could be used as a stretcher, the rest of them turned back to the pile of bricks.
If there had been one man in there, there was likely to be more.
Ezekiel had climbed back up the pile of bricks when he noticed another party of men coming towards them, led by a man in a navy uniform. The bricks clattered under his feet as he scrambled back down, walking towards him. "Sir, is the navy helping?"
"Where we can." He nodded to Ezekiel, gesturing for his men to join in the effort. "We've got hospital ships set up, stretcher bearers will be around. Have you pulled anyone out yet?"
"One." Ezekiel looked back to the rubble. "We're still looking."
"Well, more hands make light work." The officer chuckled, a mirthless sound in the midst of all the destruction around them. "At least now I can direct your men on where to take anyone we find." He followed Ezekiel back up the pile, the both of them bending to the task.
He could never be sure how long they had been working when a herd of people ran past, screaming and pointing up at the sky. He traced a line to what they were frightened of, a white and gray cloud rising over the city. He blinked, turning back to the men. "It's only steam, keep working."
The work continued on, and it was slow. Bricks had to be removed, but slowly so the pile didn't collapse further. Men strained their ears, hoping to hear a cry for help. When one was heard, everyone went silent to better locate it, and the work became more focused. Brick by brick, a person would be revealed. A longshoreman, a porter, a secretary, it hardly mattered. They were pulled out and passed back down the pile, stretcher-bearers from the navy ships running over to pick them up and take them away for further attention.
Sometimes the person they found wasn't moving, and likely never would again, but they didn't treat them any different. Privately, Ezekiel thought the men wouldn't be able to handle the thought of pulling out more dead than alive. He fell into the work, for when he worked he didn't have to think. All he had to do was pass bricks back, climb down as the pile was reduced, and pass bricks back again.
He only broke out of this trance when the navy officer shook his shoulder, "A relief shift is here, go get some rest."
Ezekiel blinked dumbly at him, only now noticing the new men moving to take their places. It was growing dark, and they still had to row back to the ship. "Oh, of course."
"What's your name?" The officer was gesturing for his men to gather up. "My captain will want to know."
"Ezekiel Fields, of the Western Star." Ezekiel jerked his head towards the Basin. "We were waiting to join the convoy."
"Then thank you, Mr. Fields." Hands were shaken. "And go get some rest." Before he could do that though, Ezekiel needed to find his ship. Given how many docks had been destroyed, there were few places to look. When their search proved fruitless though, the men stumbled back to the boats and rowed back for the Basin.
His hands were numb as Ezekiel helped secure the lines to raise the boats back up, and he almost fell when he gained the deck. It was only his chief officer catching him that stopped him, "Easy sir, you've been out there all day. Cook's got some dinner in the wardroom, go eat up."
Ezekiel managed to get his feet under him, "Did the wireless boys-"
"Mrs. Dalian gave her full approval for you turning over the cargo for relief efforts," His chief walked with him, slowly. "And a pilot will be by tomorrow to get us to a dock where we can unload."
"Good, good." Ezekiel couldn't say much more, he couldn't do much more. He fell on his food like a starving man and fell into his bunk where he slept like the dead. Morning brought more food, this time food that he could taste. He sighed, "These biscuits are heaven."
The other officers were all clustered around the table, one of them speaking up. "Cook said you need to eat more, sir. Especially if you plan on going back to help today."
"First, we're unloading." Ezekiel mopped up the honey that had fallen off his biscuit. "And we had better move quickly, looks to be a storm coming in." At least this work Ezekiel knew. He knew how to get steam up so their pilot could guide them to a pier past the worst of the wreckage, he knew how to give orders for his men to begin loading cargo into their nets, he knew how to tally what they unloaded and what they left.
The navy officer from the day before was the one who took custody of what they had, thanking him for the blankets and food, even for the crate filled with cakes of soap. He kindly let them keep their shipment of tires though, unsure how those could be used for the relief effort. A certificate of reception by the Halifax Relief Society was given, the name merely a scrawl across the top of the paper rather than a dedicated letterhead.
Ezekiel was still holding it when the snow began to fall, and he hastily tucked it in his coat before it could get wet. Mrs. Dalian would want to see that, to wave in the faces of any client who got it in their mind to complain. He stopped in the chartroom to place it with their ledgers, noting a pair of telegrams that had been left for him. One was from Mrs. Dalian: Do what you think is best, a relief train from New York will be there soon. Come back to the city when able.
He sighed, knowing that it would be some time. Not only due to the snow, which was rapidly becoming a blizzard, but because he felt that there had to be more for him to do here. He had helped yesterday, people might still be alive because of what he and his crew had done. People who had lost everything had a full belly and a warm blanket because of a decision he had made. He needed to see what else he could do to help. He flipped the second telegram over, smirking. "You never make it easy for me, do you darling?"
Ezekiel Fields if you do not return to the city this instant I am moving back in with my parents and you will be lucky to see your child.
Come home to us.
-Samantha