8

BOAT DOCK. SOUTHAMPTON, ENGLAND.

WEDNESDAY, APRIL 10, 1912. 10:35 A.M.

“Boy.”

Weiss beckoned to a scruffy youth standing alone on the dock, peering up at Titanic’s imposing stacks from beneath an oversized newsboy’s cap. The child’s hands were stuffed inside a dingy, charcoal-colored coat that was too large by a third. Only scuffed leather boots were visible beneath the worn black cloth.

“Who are you calling ‘boy’?”

Weiss held out a few dull coins in the palm of his hand. “You, if it’s not too much bother. I’m offering a paying job. It’s simple enough, unless you have no use for money?”

The child’s face brightened a bit. “Call me Lou.”

The youth approached Weiss tentatively, the way a squirrel might creep toward an old man offering a handful of nuts. Lou appeared to be no more than eleven years old, perhaps twelve, with locks of rust-colored hair attempting to escape the confines of the cap. A patch of skin missing from his nose indicated a spill or a fight. The scrape suited him, either way.

Weiss eased the urchin a few coins. “Just stand here and talk to me.” And anyone searching the crowd will expect me to be alone, he thought, not traveling with a child. “My stomach is feeling a little unsettled. I’ll gladly pay for a little conversation. It would be a welcome distraction.”

“Seasick already? We’re not even on the boat!” The boy examined the coins—they appeared genuine. With a shrug, he cleaned his right hand against his cloth coat and offered it to Weiss. “Lou Goodwin. Good to know you.”

“Hello, Lou,” said Weiss. “I’m G. P. Nosworthy.”

“It’s a pleasure, G. P.”

“That’s Mr. Nosworthy to you.”

Lou arched an eyebrow. “High class, I get it. A real Guggenheim.”

Weiss stared blankly. “A real Googen … ?”

Lou pointed to a parade of first-class passengers making their way across a gangplank six stories up. “Guggenheim,” the kid said, noting a gentleman in an expensive straw hat. “He’s the one with the hundred-pound mustache.”

Weiss frowned. “How do you know that’s Mr. Guggenheim?”

“He’s the Sultan of Smelt!” cried Lou. “Worth millions! Don’t you read the papers?”

“I generally don’t find gossip and scandal worth reading,” said Weiss.

“Whatever you say, mister. But I’ll tell you this: I sell fifty copies before noon most days. With good gossip, seventy-five.” Lou sized up the strange gentleman with the odd accent. “What are you in, anyway?”

“Exports,” the German replied.

Judging by Weiss’s rather ordinary clothing, Lou decided there must not be much money in exports.

Weiss was now only ten or twelve people away from the ticket takers. He looked around furtively for signs of anyone following him. All seemed ordinary. He was nearly on the ship, mere steps away from escape.

“Oh! There’s one for you,” said Lou. “That’s the Lady Cardeza. ‘Lady’ because she used to be married to a Spanish king or duke or some sort. Watched them unload her automobile this morning—how many trunks you wager she’s bringing on board?”

“I couldn’t speculate,” said Weiss, becoming distracted as the line trickled forward.

“Would it kill you to make a guess?” asked Lou. “You’re payin’ for this. Fourteen trunks! Enough to fill two houses. All that money and she can’t even keep her hair on straight.”

Weiss drew his attention to the matron in a polar bear fur coat, slowly making her way into first-class passage. As Lou had observed, Lady Cardeza’s silver-blue hair was traveling southward into her eyes.

“Spend some of that dough on a hair pin, why don’t ya!” shouted Lou. A firm hand grabbed Lou’s ear and spun the child round.

“I’ve been looking for you for nearly an hour!” scolded a serious young woman wearing a fancy ruffled hat that didn’t quite match her dress. “Have you lost your mind, Louise?”

“Louise?” Weiss exclaimed. He took a second look at the waif. Sure enough, it was a girl hidden beneath the oversized cap. Since when are girls allowed to sell newspapers? Weiss thought.

Lou twisted to escape the tight grip on her ear, but it was no use. She pleaded to Weiss, “Been here all along, haven’t I, mister?”

The woman noticed Weiss for the first time. She released Lou’s ear, straightened up, and smoothed her dress with her gloved hands. “Has my daughter been bothering you? She was meant to be back at the hotel changing clothes for the journey.”

“Told you, it’s too cold for that frilly thing,” said Lou, crossing her arms defiantly.

“No,” replied Weiss, clearing his throat. “Not bothering me at all.” The woman’s pretty blue eyes still sparked with anger behind perfectly round spectacles. “I must say, she seems to know a great deal about the world.”

“Not half as much as she believes,” said the woman. “I’m sorry for the trouble.” She allowed a small smile and firmly took Lou’s hand. “Come on now. Don’t get lost before we can even get to America.”

“I assure you, there was no trouble,” Weiss said, remembering to tip his cap. “A pleasant journey to you.”

The young woman acknowledged his courtesy with a polite nod, then yanked Lou’s arm as she turned away. The girl waved back, grinning broadly. “Did you hear that, mister? We’re going to America!”