| |
On Board the Carpathia
12:00 p.m. (Ship’s Time)
Kate Royston
Kate had met women who aged gracefully—her own grandmother had still been a beauty at seventy-five—but Eva Trentham was not such a woman. However, according to Mrs. Broomer, Eva had once been a great beauty.
“The toast of Paris, Rome, and London,” Mrs. Broomer said as she ushered Kate toward Eva’s first-class suite. “Men fought duels for her favors. Try to remember that. Flatter her whenever you can.”
Kate stopped outside the wide walnut doors of the suite, the finest accommodation on the Carpathia. “How did you persuade the people in here to move out?” she asked. “They paid for the best. Why would they move?”
“Because they want Mrs. Trentham to be in their debt, that’s why. There is no end to the favors that can be obtained if you have the Widow Trentham on your side. She has senators and presidents in her pocket.”
“How?”
“She buys them. She has had three husbands, each one richer than the last, and each one now dead. Rumor has it that she was born poor and her first marriage was for love, and maybe that’s the truth, but her next two marriages were strictly for the money, old men who would soon be dead. And now she’s the richest woman in the United States, maybe even in Europe. Any man who wants to win a seat in the Senate, or a seat in the British parliament, or perhaps even a seat in the White House, needs her on his side.”
Mrs. Broomer paused to pull a key from her pocket. “We have found a wheelchair for her, but she will not permit herself to be pushed out among the other survivors, and so she sits and fumes. I will unlock this door and give you the key. She will be in your care, and if you play your cards right, perhaps it will no longer matter if you have to leave the ship in New York. Maybe you will not need to flee to Europe.”
“I’m not fleeing.”
“I think you are.”
“No.”
“Well, let it be. You were helpful to the doctor last night, and so now I am helpful to you.”
Mrs. Broomer pressed the key into Kate’s hand. “By the way, she wants to take possession of the dog she rescued. I have sent a steward to fetch it.”
“Wolfie,” Kate said. “The countess has named him Wolfie.”
Mrs. Broomer shook her head. “Oh dear, I hope he doesn’t live up to his name.” She gave Kate a gentle shove. “In you go. Do your best.”
Kate knocked, received an unintelligible response from within, and unlocked the door. Eva Trentham was in the center of the parlor, seated in a wicker wheelchair with red upholstery. She was swathed in blankets, and the red hat she had worn on arrival was still perched on her head atop wisps of white hair. Her eyes swept over Kate from head to foot once and then concentrated themselves on the folds of Kate’s dress.
“Come here, girl.”
“My name is Kate.”
“Come here, Kate.”
Kate approached tentatively, and Eva’s clawlike hand shot out from beneath her blanket cocoon and fingered the fabric of Kate’s skirt.
“Ha!” she said triumphantly. “You are not what you appear to be. I thought as much. They tell me you’re a governess, but you don’t have the air of a servant. Where’s my dog?”
“He’s coming.”
“So he’s a male dog?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Don’t call me ‘ma’am.’ I think you are unaccustomed to calling anyone ‘ma’am,’ so don’t begin to do it now. This disaster may be the very thing to change your apparently failing fortunes.”
“I don’t understand, ma’am ... Mrs. Trentham.”
“Mrs. Trentham. Yes, I was Henry Trentham’s wife. He left me a great deal of money, but I never liked the name. Trentham, so very ordinary. I was once a contessa, but that is behind me now. I think you shall call me Miss Eva. No, no, that won’t do. That sounds too much like a piano teacher, and I despise piano teachers. Call me Eva, and I will call you Kate. You see, we shall get along fine so long as you are honest with me.”
Kate attempted to take a step back, but Eva still held her skirt in a firm grasp. “Is this your own dress, Kate?”
“Yes, it is.”
Eva fingered the fabric. “A very fine wool,” she said, looking up at Kate with shrewd blue eyes far too lively for her wrinkled and folded face. “And look at the way it fits. This is no hand-me-down. This was made for you by a very good dressmaker. You have attempted to make it plain, but there is nothing plain about the drape of this fabric. I can see where you have unpicked a lace collar rather clumsily, and once there was beading at the shoulder. A dress for half mourning, I think. Who did you mourn?”
Kate answered without thinking. “My mother.”
“And your mother was a wealthy woman who dressed you in finery. Oh, Kate, what are you doing on board this old tub?”
“I’m working my way to Europe. I had planned to leave the ship in Gibraltar.”
Eva released Kate’s dress and held up a horrified hand. “Oh no, not Gibraltar. It’s a naval base, and if there’s one thing more dangerous than being a penniless virgin at an army base, it’s being a penniless virgin at a naval base. You will not find your fortune in Gibraltar, and you will be lucky if you manage to escape virgo intacta into Spain.”
The old lady laughed mirthlessly. “Don’t look so shocked. Someone has to tell you the truth. Be glad I’m the one, because I don’t mince my words. You’re a pretty little thing, and maybe you will find a protector in Spain if you succeed in crossing the border, but—”
“It doesn’t matter,” Kate interrupted, certain that she was blushing to the roots of her hair. “We’re not going to Europe. We’re going back to New York.”
“That is what I also hear,” Eva said. “In fact, that is what I told the captain to do.”
Kate remembered Captain Rostron thundering from his cabin at the first word of the Titanic’s plight. She remembered his string of orders delivered almost without pausing for breath. She could not imagine Eva Trentham, wealthy, influential, or otherwise, telling the Carpathia’s captain what he should do. She wondered if Eva was not quite as influential as she made herself out to be.
“Do you have paper and pencil?”
Kate nodded. “I do.”
“Very well, then. You will send a message to Senator William Alden Smith on my behalf.”
“How will I do that?”
“On the Marconi wireless, of course. I am sure that every wealthy man and bereaved socialite on this ship is attempting to send wires to New York, but I will expect you to prevail and insist that this message is sent immediately. Please me in this, Kate, and I may find ways to help you.”
“I don’t need your help.”
“I think you do. Any woman who is desperate enough to leave the ship in Gibraltar or throw herself at some Spanish conquistador is greatly in need of help. Don’t look so sullen. I’ve told you that we will get along fine if you do what I ask. I am in the unusual position of being unable to do anything for myself, and so you will have to do things for me.”
“I’m not here to nurse you.”
“Of course you’re not. I require a skilled nurse, and one will be found for me among the immigrants. A good Irish girl will suit me fine. I need you for something else, and I am very pleased with what I see in you. You try to hide from sight in your dull dress, but you are not that kind of woman. You and I are very much alike, and I think we will get along just fine, and you will have no need to run away to Spain.”
“I’m not running away.”
Eva waved her hand dismissively. “Forget about Spain, and remember why we are here together. I sailed on the greatest ship ever built, an unsinkable floating palace, or so we were told, and yet here I am, on an old tub of a boat, filled with weeping women. I can hear them weeping. Even here I can hear the echoes of the weeping and the screaming, and the terrible cries.”
“Perhaps you should not speak of it,” Kate said. “It’s best not to remember.”
“Perhaps so,” Eva said. “I think you speak from experience, but whatever it is you remember, it will not be as dreadful as that night on the ocean. Let me speak. I have to speak.”
Kate watched the sudden change in Eva’s expression. Her eyes had been alive and sparkling, but now they became clouded and unfocused, and her voice fell to a whisper. “I thought it was all foolishness. We were put into a lifeboat and sent away from the ship, but none of us thought she would go down. Her lights were still blazing, and yet we were forced to take to the lifeboats and row far away. It seemed to be an absurd idea—a ridiculous inconvenience.”
Eva reached out a hand, and Kate took it instinctively into her grasp. The old lady’s hand was cold, as though the hand itself held the memory of ice and the deep, cold ocean.
“Our oarsmen said they were told to row toward a light somewhere in the distance, and we should all search the horizon for this light. There was no moon, but the sky was clear, and it was hard to distinguish just one light from the thousands of stars. I looked—everyone looked—and then we heard an explosion behind us. When we turned, we saw sparks shooting up from the ship, and we heard terrible cries. The lights were still blazing, and we could see people clinging to the railings, slipping and falling, and then the lights went out, and there was nothing but darkness and crying.”
Eva suddenly released Kate’s hand and shook her head. Her eyes regained focus, and her expression was grim and determined.
“It was the most terrible thing, but sitting here talking will serve no purpose. We must act. We shall bring down powerful men, Kate. Someone must pay for the lives that were lost.”
Eva’s words echoed in Kate’s ears, and a terrifying memory forced itself to the surface. She looked from the window of her house and saw the people climbing the hill and breaking down the gates. Someone must pay. Someone must pay.
“Kate!” Eva’s voice broke through the memory. “Are you listening to me, Kate?”
Kate pulled herself back to the present and to the disaster that was so much greater than the one she had witnessed.
“But it was an accident,” she said, just as her father had said a year ago. “An act of God.”
“The iceberg was an act of God,” Eva agreed, “but colliding with it was an act of man, and trying to fit two thousand people into thirteen small lifeboats was an act of man. There is human fault here, Kate, that is nothing to do with God.”
“Then we must blame the captain,” Kate said. “And he is not here. He has gone down with his ship.”
“I agree that the captain is beyond our reach, but there are men still alive who can be reached and ruined, and I intend to ruin them.”
“Why?” Kate asked. “It will not bring the dead to life.”
“I have my reasons,” Eva said. “I intend to reach very high, very much higher than anyone will expect. If you will help me, we can bring down the most powerful man in America.”
“The president?” Kate asked.
Eva shook her head impatiently. “No, not the president. He’s not the most powerful man in America. He’s a political pawn. He’s bought and paid for, just like any other politician. Money, Kate. Money is power, and don’t you forget it. When I speak of power, I speak of the king of greed himself, James Pierpont Morgan. I intend to knock him from his throne.”
“Why?”
“Why?” Eva repeated. “Because the Titanic was his ship. He hides himself behind a financial wall, but he is the man pulling the strings. Ismay is just his puppet, but we’ll begin with Ismay, because there is a very good case to be made against that man, and when we’ve knocked Ismay down, we’ll go after Morgan. You saw Ismay, didn’t you? You saw him standing there bold as brass and dry as a bone. He was safe and smug while hundreds of the wretches he tried to drown were pulled aboard the Carpathia and a thousand more went down to the bottom of the Atlantic.”
“Are you saying that the tragedy was his fault?”
Eva nodded, her red hat bobbing in agreement. “I am saying it is quite possible. Ismay was in such a hurry to reach New York and claim the Blue Riband crossing speed record that he drove us into the ice. It’s an open-and-shut case.”
“But how will we prove it? Will you take him to court?”
“Not yet,” Eva said. “First we will convene a Senate inquiry.”
Kate looked at the old woman in amazement. “Can you do that?”
Eva nodded. “I cannot personally do that, but I know who can. We will send a Marconi message to Senator Smith of Michigan. He is the man who can make this happen, and I believe he will do it because he is a good and honest man and not just because he needs my backing if he is to take a run at the presidency. All it will take is a slight nudge. Take up your pencil and paper, Kate, and let’s get started. Let’s give Senator Smith a nudge.”
A few minutes later, Kate was making her way toward the radio room with Eva’s message clasped in her hand. Passing along the carpeted corridors of the first-class deck, she encountered a group of women standing outside a closed door. Although they were disheveled, the clothes they wore gave clear evidence of their wealth. Some wore evening dress; some wore nightclothes; but they all wore warm coats and even fashionable hats. Obviously, these were the first-class passengers from the Titanic.
Although they had escaped and were warm and dry, Kate could only imagine the tragedy that lay behind their angry faces. These women had been forced to leave their husbands and sons behind on the sinking ship with the promise that the separation was temporary. They would all be saved—rescue was on its way. Rescue had not come. The night had been filled with the cries of the dying, and the rising sun had shown them only the floating dead. Now the search was at an end, and the Carpathia was steaming at all possible speed toward New York, leaving the scene of the tragedy behind.
As she attempted to push her way through the throng, Kate saw that the women were gathered outside Dr. Lengyel’s quarters. She tapped one of the ladies on the shoulder. The woman turned toward her. She was young, fine featured, but very pale. No doubt she bore a famous name, and now she bore it as a widow.
“The doctor is not there,” Kate said. “He’s tending to the sick in the smoking room.”
“We’re not looking for the doctor,” the woman replied. She pointed at the door. “Ismay is in there. He’s been in there ever since he arrived on the ship, and see what’s written on the door.”
Kate peered over the shoulders of the other ladies and saw that a handwritten sign had been pinned to the door. Please do not knock.
A hand pushed Kate aside, and a woman spoke loudly above the murmuring of the ladies. “We’ll see about that,” she said as she rapped loudly on the door.
“He won’t come out, Mrs. Ryerson,” said the woman beside Kate.
Mrs. Ryerson continued to knock and call out in a loud voice. “Open up in there, Ismay. We know you’re there.”
A man’s voice intruded on the protests. “Ladies, ladies, please return to your quarters.”
Kate turned to see one of the ship’s officers approaching rapidly along the corridor.
“Quarters,” sniffed Mrs. Ryerson. “I do not call them quarters when we are sleeping on the floor. Poor Mrs. Astor is covered in bruises.”
Apparently, Mrs. Astor was the pale lady who had been speaking to Kate. She pulled on the officer’s arm. “We shouldn’t complain. We know the captain is doing his best, but how is it that Sir Bruce Ismay is occupying this cabin? My husband is dead. All of our husbands are dead, and yet he does not have the decency to come out and speak to us.”
“He is very disturbed by the loss of his ship,” the officer said, “and of course, he has urgent business. He has a constant flow of Marconigrams.”
Kate knew at once that the poor man had given the wrong reply, and Mrs. Ryerson proved her right.
“Marconigrams,” she said. “I’d like to send a Marconigram, but Sir Bruce is monopolizing the radio operator.”
As a babble of outraged voices sprang up around her, Kate remembered the paper she was carrying. If the radio operator was too busy to send Marconigrams for anyone other than Ismay, would he send one for Eva Trentham?
She smiled to herself, realizing that she had a card that no one else could play. Harold Cottam owed her a favor. She was sure that even without her prompting, he would have roused Captain Rostron and delivered the Titanic’s message, but nonetheless, she had helped. She had been a voice of encouragement in his time of doubt. He could hardly forget her.
She moved on toward the bridge and the radio room, making her way determinedly past officers and crewmen, who raised their eyebrows in surprise but were too busy to do anything about her. Perhaps it was the plain gray dress she wore. Eva had noted its fine quality, but to anyone else, it was the plain dress of a woman who was going about her business. Maybe they mistook her for a stewardess. A number of first-class stewardesses had been rescued from the Titanic; maybe that was how she was perceived.
Whatever the reason, she was allowed to go on her way unimpeded until she reached the radio room. Here she found a closed door and a notice forbidding entry. Well, even though Harold Cottam would surely remember her, it didn’t seem right just to open the door and force her way in.
She knocked, politely but firmly.
No response.
She knocked again, harder and with authority.
The door opened, and a face peered out. It was not the face of Harold Cottam. How could that be? He was the only Marconi operator on the Carpathia, and he was inundated with messages. How could someone else be in the radio room? She knew this was not an operator from the Titanic. One operator had died at his post, and the other one had been recovered close to death and was under the care of Dr. Lengyel.
The face at the door was, she noticed, quite a handsome one, topped with blond curls and framed by a neat blond beard. The eyes, bright blue and set far apart, regarded her with interest, but the lips failed to smile.
“Sorry, miss, we’re not able to take any more Marconigrams.”
Kate kept her grip on the paper and remembered the importance of her mission. If anything she did today would harm the reputation of Sir Bruce Ismay, then that would make today a good day. How dare he—
“Miss, I’m sorry.”
The door was still partially open, and the blue eyes were still looking at her with interest.
“I want to speak to Mr. Cottam,” Kate said. “In fact, I insist on speaking to him. Tell him it’s Kate.”
The face at the door turned away and spoke to someone in the room. “There’s a girl out here. Says her name is Kate and she wants to speak to you.”
Cottam’s voice spoke from inside. “Is she a pretty girl with black hair?”
The face turned toward Kate again, and the lips formed a smile. “Yes, I would say she is. Very pretty.”
“Let her in.”
“Really?”
“Oh, yes. I owe her a favor.”
The door opened, and Kate stepped inside a cramped room filled with unfamiliar equipment and tangled wires. Harold Cottam rose from a crouching position at the single desk and greeted her with a smile.
“We’re really busy,” he said, “but if you want to send a message, I can do it for you anytime, and if I’m not here, Danny will do it.”
Danny, who gave the impression of having Viking forebears and who was rather too large for the room, nodded enthusiastically. “I’ll do it. Anytime. I’m Danny McSorley.”
Kate studied Danny, wondering why he was not in uniform and why Cottam had not mentioned that the Carpathia had another Marconi operator. It took a moment for her to understand. “You came from the Titanic?”
“I did.”
“But I thought there were only two operators.”
“There were. I’m a passenger ... I was a passenger. Second class.”
Kate listened to his softly accented voice. Scottish, maybe, or some part of northern England.
“I’m on my way to Newfoundland,” he said. “I was to take up a post at the Cape Race relay station, and I thought to see something of New York before I went up there to the middle of nowhere.”
“I’ve never been so glad to see anyone,” Cottam said. “I can’t do this on my own. I was sending lists and Marconigrams hour after hour and fending off newspapers all the time. I couldn’t keep it up, but Danny volunteered. He’s good. Better than I am.” He looked at the paper in Kate’s hand. “Do you want to send a Marconigram?”
“It’s not for me. It’s Mrs. Trentham. She wants me to send it to Senator Smith.”
She passed the message to Cottam, and he whistled softly as he read the words. “A Senate hearing,” he said. “She wants a Senate hearing?”
“Yes, she does.”
“Do you think this senator will do it for her?”
Kate nodded. “I think he will.”
Cottam passed the paper to Danny, who stared at it for a moment and then handed it back. “I don’t know anything about American politics. I suppose there’ll be an inquiry, but the Titanic is a British ship, so it will be a British inquiry.”
“But American people died,” Kate said. “Mrs. Trentham thinks the American public should know what happened.”
“I’d like to know that myself,” Danny agreed. “It was like being in a nightmare. People screaming and shouting, the steam whistle shrieking, ropes tangled, immigrants locked down belowdecks, lifeboats launched sideways and upside down, and some of them half-empty, and all those people left behind.” He paused and closed his eyes. Kate could only imagine the horrors playing out behind his eyelids. “Someone should find out what happened, but we won’t find out from the captain. He never even tried to save himself.”
“But Sir Bruce Ismay saved himself,” Kate said.
Cottam nodded. “Yes, I know, and for that reason, I’ll send your message, Miss Kate. If I get an answer, I’ll let you know. Where will I find you?”
“I suppose I’ll be with Mrs. Trentham,” Kate replied. “I think she’s not going to let me go until we reach New York.”
“We’ll find you,” Danny said.
Cottam had already turned away as the Marconi equipment stuttered into life with a new message. Kate left the radio room and closed the door behind her.
As she went back through the maze of corridors, she carried the memory of a blond beard, a warm smile, and a man who had not tried to save himself, and yet he had been saved.
Danny McSorley
He wondered when the shock would wear off and when his hands would stop trembling. Cottam moved aside, and Danny sat down in front of the Morse key that lay at the heart of a great agglomeration of wires, coils, and condensers. He took a deep breath to steady himself. He had to stop thinking about the blood-soaked envelope he carried in his pocket and start thinking of ways to help Harold Cottam, who was worn out from hours spent hunched over the Morse key. He thought about the girl who had just departed. If he concentrated on her, perhaps he could forget about everything else that had happened.
“She your girl?” he asked, as casually as he could.
Cottam shook his head. “No. That could never happen. She’s a first-class passenger.”
“Oh, I thought her dress looked kind of plain. Not as flashy as first class.”
“She was on the first-class deck when I met her, and wearing a coat over her nightgown,” Cottam said. “It was just after I received the SOS from the Titanic. I’d been up to the bridge to tell them, and no one up there believed me.”
“You’re joking.”
“No, really. They said the Titanic couldn’t be sinking and I should go away and stop being stupid. So I went down the ladder to the deck. I was going to have a quick cigarette and then go back and recheck the message, and if I had to, I was going to wake the captain. Honestly, old man, when that SOS came through, I had trouble believing it myself.”
Danny nodded, remembering the disbelief he had witnessed for himself on board the Titanic. He could still hear the chorus of scornful voices.
“She’s unsinkable.”
“Bloody nonsense if you ask me. I’m going to the bar.”
“I don’t see why I should put my wife in a lifeboat. It’s just some ice, nothing to worry about.”
“No, no, I’m not going without my jewels. You’ll have to fetch them from the purser’s safe.”
He had listened to those voices for some time before he had ventured out from second class and pushed his way through a melee of increasingly agitated officers and crew until he could see into the radio room.
“Poor old Phillips,” Danny said. “I saw him signaling, and Bride was running messages to the bridge. They say Phillips stayed at his post until the end.”
“You knew him?” Cottam asked.
“I’d met him before,” Danny said. “You know how it is. If we happened to be in port at the same time, we’d meet up. He was a good sort.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry he didn’t make it. Without him, no one would have known what was happening.”
“The Titanic’s other operator is here on board,” Cottam said.
“Bride, yes. I don’t really know him, but I’m glad he got picked up,” Danny said. “I hear he’s in a bad way. Frostbite.” He shivered, realizing that his thoughts had taken him to a place he did not want to be. “What about this girl, then? What was she doing on deck in her nightgown?”
“I don’t know,” Cottam said. “I didn’t have a chance to ask her. I’d come down off the bridge deck, and I was out on the deck lighting a cigarette and talking myself into waking up the captain, and suddenly she was there. I’d been leaning over the rail, and I think she thought I was going to ... well, you know ...”
“Jump?” Danny queried.
“Oh, yes, I really think she thought I was just some desperate crewman who wanted to end it all. So anyway, I told her about the message, and you should have seen her. She’s not just a pretty face—she was practically on fire. I thought she’d go and wake the captain herself. We went up the ladder together, and she waited while I woke the captain. I was going to do it anyway, but having her behind me set me moving.”
He leaned over Danny’s shoulder. “Are you going to send the message or just sit here all day thinking about that girl?”
“I’m going to do both,” Danny said. His hand hovering above the Morse key had stopped trembling. “Go and take your break. I’ll take care of this.”