41

BOAT DECK.

MONDAY, APRIL 15, 1912. 12:57 A.M.

Many concerned faces confronted Captain Smith and Andrews as they emerged on the boat deck. Yet to their great relief, they saw that the zombie menace had not yet arrived topside.

Crew members were trying to organize the rattled passengers, many still in their nightclothes, and announcing that the imminent evacuation was strictly for precautionary measures. Meanwhile, desperate signal flares screamed across the night sky, casting otherworldly light over the crowds on the boat deck. Anxiety had not yet become panic, but anyone with a head for arithmetic could see there would not be enough lifeboats for all.

“Andrews,” Captain Smith said, “we need to find Weiss straight away.”

Andrews ran to a nearby cargo crane and climbed up the ladder into darkness, giving him a better vantage point. He surveyed the deck, his head swiveling from right to left until he spotted his target. “I have them,” Andrews shouted down. He pointed to where Lou and Weiss were standing on a bench and scanning the crowd themselves. The captain hurried over to them.

“We’re trying to find Mr. Hargraves,” exclaimed Lou. “He tried to kill Mr. Weiss! He’s the one who stole …”

“The vial with the Toxic,” finished Weiss. “Hargraves is the Kaiser’s agent, he had it all along.” Weiss gritted his teeth. “I’m not going to let him off this ship. He …”

Smith cut him off. “I’m ordering you to make sure no one is allowed on the lifeboats that exhibits any signs of the sickness. It can’t leave this ship … in any form.”

“But—” Weiss began.

“There is no other way off this ship than those lifeboats. You’ll have no better opportunity to find your man and what he stole. I shall persevere to keep order and ensure the safety of those who are allowed to depart.”

Weiss agreed with the plan. It was more practical than any kind of search he could undertake on his own. Rather than seeking out the Kaiser’s man, Weiss would wait for the Agent to show himself.

Lou then asked, “Where’s your sword, sir?”

“Broken. Its time had come,” Smith replied. “Now go and do as I’ve said.”

“Yes, sir,” Lou barked.

Weiss searched the captain’s face, and what the German found made it difficult to say “Yes, sir,” and obey the order. But he did.

First Officer Murdoch had taken charge of seamen working feverishly to lower the odd-numbered lifeboats on Titanic’s starboard side, while Chief Officer Wilde supervised men lowering the even-numbered boats on the port side.

No good spot existed for Weiss to set up a mass inspection, so he did his best: he formed a line on the engineer’s promenade, port side. His job was to send passengers through to the waiting lifeboats, once they were determined clear of infection. Because the passengers’ numbers were so great, Weiss enlisted several junior officers to assist him. He gave them a rough outline of the situation: a serious infection was present on the ship. They needed to detain anyone who was feverish, complained of headaches, or most serious of all, had any dark fluid coming from their nose, mouth, or ears. Weiss refrained from explaining what happened next. Finally, he instructed the officers to be on the lookout for a man with slicked-back hair and a pencil-thin mustache. The man was a murderer who should be arrested.

Walking up and down the passenger line, Wilde and Murdoch made it known that no one would leave Titanic without verification that they were fit for rescue. The passengers, nearly all first- and second-class, submitted to the inspections—for all they knew, it was normal protocol to answer questions about their general health and to have eyes, ears, and mouth inspected by a medical man before abandoning ship.

As the inspections got underway, Lou stood by Weiss, acting as a second set of eyes to search for Hargraves and the Toxic. They’d seen no sign yet of the man Lou had nearly incinerated just an hour before.

The ship’s store of handguns was lost below to the zombie menace. To keep order in any scenario, Chief Officer Charles Lightoller rounded up all weapons he could find for crowd control. Fifth Officer Harold Lowe, a stocky sailor with squinty eyes, revealed a pair of Browning semi-automatics that he’d smuggled aboard. “Thought they might come in handy if I ever ran into trouble,” he admitted sheepishly.

“Trouble it is,” said Lightoller, ignoring the rule violation. “But no shooting. Wave them around and holler a bit if anyone tries to get wise.”

Two Catholic priests wandered among the waiting passengers, offering comfort. Six older men in topcoats gathered around the first stack, smoking pipes and trying to look the part of elders. Lou watched as a tearful father still in his nightclothes bid farewell to his two young sons, touching their chins and transferring responsibility for their mother onto their slight shoulders.

Eventually, a small mob of angry men formed in the inspection line. The largest hollered that they ought not wait any longer. His fellows agreed; they broke out of line and rushed Lifeboat 2, intent on commandeering the craft. Lightoller jumped in after them, brandishing one of the Brownings and threatening to do in any man who didn’t abdicate in favor of women and children. The ploy worked, even though Lightoller’s gun wasn’t loaded.

Weiss was surprised that nearly all of the passengers looked healthy. Perhaps closing the watertight doors had done some good after all. So far, he’d found only two cases of infection, a pair of young, black-haired brothers. Swallowing hard, Weiss had sent them to be quarantined in the officers’ cabins by able seamen. Both children were in the early stages of the illness, with just traces of ooze in their saliva, but each was infected just the same. “We’re going to put you on a better boat very soon,” he told them, offering kindness over honesty. “Invent some games to play while you wait.”

The continued absence of the Agent was making Weiss anxious, and he considered other possibilities: perhaps the Kaiser’s man had commandeered one of the lifeboats and escaped before Titanic’s crew started the evacuation. But surely news of a missing lifeboat would have reached Weiss by now. Maybe the man had his own means of escape—a military craft, perhaps an inflatable. But then what? Such a thing couldn’t traverse the ocean. It would need a ship or submarine rendezvous. While Weiss couldn’t dismiss the notion entirely, it seemed unlikely. The simplest explanation is probably correct, thought Weiss. He’s still on board, and I’m going to find him.

Lifeboats had been steadily filled and lowered without incident. Yet a sense of panic was escalating as Titanic’s deck tilted farther toward the water. No rescue ships were appearing on the dark horizon. On one lifeboat, a woman screamed for her husband. Fewer than a dozen lifeboats remained to be loaded, and Weiss would make sure one young lady got aboard. He took Lou by the arm.

“We ain’t found him yet!” cried Lou, realizing what was happening. “And I ain’t leaving until we get ‘im!”

“It’s for your own good, Lou,” Weiss replied, motioning for a nearby able seaman. “Mr. Buley, hold her while I conduct my inspection.”

“Get your mitts off me. You know I got no sickness,” Lou growled, pulling her arms from Buley’s grasp. “No spook ever got his teeth into me and you’re the witness, so you can keep your doctor visit.”

Weiss spoke quietly, so others wouldn’t hear, as he started his exam: “You’ve seen how many have already died on this ship, Lou. More are about to die. Do you know how many of those men standing over there would trade places with you? They’re losing everything. Don’t be a fool.”

“I already lost everything,” said Lou. “Let me help you get Hargraves! He tried to kill me, too, you know!”

“I’m not giving you a choice,” said Weiss, finishing his check, satisfied. He motioned to the able seaman. “Mr. Buley, please escort this young lady to Lifeboat 6.”

“Wait!” cried Lou, pulling away from Buley. “You want me on a lifeboat? Then you come with me.”

Weiss blinked. “You want me to … ?”

“You could find your cure in Iowa, even without that vial. I know you could,” Lou pleaded, touching the tattered cuff of Weiss’s shirt. “I’ll be your assistant. I’m going to be a scientist, you know. And you could stay with us. I’m sure Uncle George would let you …”

“Lou, I can’t leave until I retrieve what I came here with,” said Weiss. “You know that I have to stay.”

Lou blinked the wet from her eyes.

“Go to Iowa, become a scientist,” Weiss said. “Just the way your mother would have wanted.”

Weiss stuck out a hand for Lou to shake and seal their deal. Lou threw herself into Weiss’s arms and hung on tight. The warmth of the girl’s face burned into Weiss’s neck, and he was overcome with emotion from everything that had happened: his escape from Germany, his capture and the loss of the vial, the battle with the zombies belowdecks, the futility of trying to control the disease. Weiss wept, and he thanked God for Lou’s forgiveness.

“Lots of people waiting,” Lou said finally, pulling away. “I’ll do you proud in America.”