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The Russell Senate Office Building
Washington, DC
Senator William Alden Smith
Bill paced back and forth in front of Will McKinstry’s desk. “He should be here by now,” he declared. “You should have gone yourself instead of sending LaSalle.”
McKinstry shook his head. “I thought it best to send LaSalle while I prepared the paperwork. He’ll find him, Senator. Of course, if you knew where he was staying, it would be easier.”
“Of course it would,” Bill snapped, “but I don’t know. I doubt it’s the Willard—Joe doesn’t have that kind of money—but it will be somewhere close. Maybe a boarding house.”
McKinstry nodded and returned to shuffling papers. “I think this is all we’ll need. I have a subpoena for Sir Bruce Ismay, another for the officers of the Titanic by name, Charles Lightoller, Herbert Pitman, Joseph Boxhall, and Harold Lowe. I have one for Frederick Fleet, the man who was on lookout and did not, apparently, see the iceberg, and another that allows you to detain all or any of the remaining White Star employees at your discretion. I have added a subpoena for the remaining Marconi operator, Harold Bride. They are all British citizens, and this will create a diplomatic problem, but these documents are fully legal under the law of the United States, and if your friend Sheriff Bayliss is duly sworn, we should be able to achieve our objective.”
“If we can find Bayliss,” Bill added as he resumed his pacing.
“We’ll find him,” McKinstry said firmly. “We still have several hours before we need to board the train. The Carpathia is not due in until this evening, and Senator Newlands has gone home to pack his suitcase.”
“And you’ve reserved a meeting room at the Waldorf Astoria? We can’t bring them all back to Washington. We’ll have to make a start in New York.”
“I have the meeting room,” McKinstry said, “and I have also reserved accommodation for our entire party. When the Carpathia docks, I think that a number of passengers will come ashore looking for a place to stay, and we need to get ahead of them, or we’ll have nowhere to lay our heads tonight.”
“Well done,” Bill said as he continued pacing.
“And one more thing,” McKinstry said.
“What?”
“I think we should also subpoena the Titanic’s logbook.”
Bill stood still and looked at his secretary with sudden admiration. “I didn’t think of that. Would the logbook have survived? It could have gone down with the ship.”
“No, that should not be the case. When the order is given to take to the lifeboats, the captain is required to give the logbook into the care of the first officer to enter a lifeboat. Of course, we don’t know yet who that is, but I think we can be certain that Captain Smith would have followed tradition, and one of those surviving officers has the logbook. We just have to find which one.”
“I knew him,” Bill said. “I knew Captain Smith. My wife and I sailed with him on several occasions. He was a good man. I can’t imagine what happened. He was very experienced, and he’d sailed that route dozens of times, maybe even hundreds. He would know to look for icebergs.”
Bill shook his head, remembering Edward Smith, with his neatly trimmed white beard, his immaculate uniform, and his air of command. He sighed, suddenly overcome with grief as he put a face to the disaster. Hundreds had died, but at that moment, Edward Smith was the man he chose to remember. He fought against a prickling at the back of his eyes. There would be much crying in the days ahead, but he would not cry.
As he fought back the tears, he was relieved to hear footsteps on the marble floor outside his office. He turned to see LaSalle accompanying a tall, lanky man in an unfashionable suit. Sheriff Joe Bayliss of Chippewa County, Michigan, the man who had the courage to do what needed to be done.
Bayliss greeted Bill with a wolfish grin and a firm handshake. His voice was the low growl of a man who had seen many cold Michigan winters, smoked too much rough tobacco, and drunk too much rough whiskey. It was a voice to be reckoned with.
“Are you willing to do this?” Bill asked. “It may have consequences for all of us.”
The grin faded as Joe, towering over Bill, set his face into a mask of grim determination. “Hang the consequences,” he said. “Take me to your sergeant at arms. If he doesn’t have the guts for the job, well, I do. Let him swear me in, and I’ll serve the subpoenas.”
On Board the Carpathia
Outside New York Harbor
Kate Royston
Danny stood in the doorway of Eva Trentham’s suite. Once again his hair was standing on end. Kate wondered what he would look like with his hair and beard groomed, and wearing a suit instead of a borrowed fisherman-knit sweater. She wondered what he was going to do now that he was arriving at the end of his dreadful journey. Would he still continue on to Cape Race? Did he have money for his passage north into Canada? Would he even want to get on board another ship?
Eva, her hair combed, and wearing a borrowed coat and hat, sat in the wheelchair that had become her throne, with Bridie attending her. Bridie had managed to cut and shape a blanket into a traveling cape for herself, and her expression was relaxed. She and Eva had reached a compromise. Bridie would stay with Eva until her leg healed, and then Eva would pay for her to join her family in Chicago.
As Eva insisted on saying repeatedly, Bridie had luck on her side, but Bridie did not believe in luck. So far as she was concerned, it was the Virgin Mary who had found her a place in a lifeboat, kept her alive through the long, cold night, and finally brought her here to attend to Eva.
“Sure, Mrs. Trentham is a nasty old soul,” Bridie had whispered to Kate, “but she’s doing the Holy Mother’s work in finding me a place. What in the world will happen to all those poor immigrant folk when they’re cast ashore?” She shook her head. “The grieving has not even begun. When the shock wears off, and those poor folk stand in their new land with nothing but the clothes they’re wearing, women without a husband, children without a father or a mother, then you’ll hear the keening and the crying, and not a soul to help them.”
“Are any of you coming up on deck?” Danny asked from the doorway. “It’s raining and blowing, but it’s a sight to see.”
“Why would I go out in the rain and cold?” Eva asked. “After the night we spent in that lifeboat, I don’t intend to be cold ever again. I don’t understand you, young man. You are far too cheerful.”
Danny stepped into the room. “Well, I’ve good news. I have a message from Cape Race to say that money has been wired for my journey north, and some extra to replace my clothes. I’m one of the lucky ones. I know where I’m going. I don’t know where I’ll lay my head tonight, but it can’t be in a worse place than I’ve been in the last few nights.”
Kate looked at him thoughtfully. She had not thought to ask where he was sleeping. Even in the isolation of Eva Trentham’s suite, she had heard about conditions on board, people sleeping on the open deck, even a man who had tried to sleep in a bathtub and had to be removed by the crew.
“I’ve been sleeping on the floor in the radio room,” Danny said. “It’s better than some people have.” He gave Kate an encouraging smile. “Come up on deck, Miss Kate, and see what’s happening. The harbor is full of boats all racing out to meet us. Please come and look. You won’t see the like of this again.”
Kate hesitated. The luxury of Eva Trentham’s suite reminded her of the comfortable life she had once lived. She would never find such comfort as governess to the Van Buren children, whose parents were comfortably well off but definitely not rich. She wanted to go up on deck, but she didn’t want to spend time away from Eva Trentham and the possibility that Eva might offer her employment as a traveling companion. Paid traveling companion was definitely one step up from governess, and as long as Kate stayed by the old lady’s side, she could still hope that Eva would make her a last-minute offer.
On the other hand, if the old lady had no intention of offering her employment, she really should find the Van Burens and discover whether she still had a position with them. If they told her they were not continuing their voyage, or if they told her that she had let them down and they no longer wanted to employ her, she would be no better off than the poorest immigrant from the Titanic.
Eva dismissed Kate with a wave of her hand. “Go with him, and take Wolfie with you.”
Danny McSorley
Danny watched as Kate clipped an improvised leash on the collar he had fashioned for Wolfie using an old leather belt. When he had first met her in the radio room, Kate had seemed full of fire and determination, but today she looked pale and worried. He wondered what position she held with Mrs. Trentham. Cottam had said that Kate was a first-class passenger, but in Eva’s suite, she seemed to be more like a servant, or a secretary, and she was still very plainly dressed. He told himself that he only concerned himself with who or what she was in order to take his mind off other things. The memories still rushed at him, and the blood-soaked envelope was still in his pocket. It was far easier to think about Kate than to think about what was behind and what lay ahead.
He led Kate out onto the first-class promenade deck. In the confusion and crowding on the Carpathia, class distinctions had become irrelevant, and the railing along the first-class promenade deck was lined with passengers standing in the gusty wind and blowing rain to see the lights of New York. Looking ahead, Danny could see a US Navy cruiser clearing a path for them through the myriad private boats swarming from the shore to meet them. He saw fishing boats, private yachts, and even ferryboats bearing down on the Carpathia. Around them, the night was made bright by the lights of a thousand camera flashes, revealing flickering glimpses of the Statue of Liberty on her windblown island. He had been at sea since he was eighteen and had arrived at harbors all over the world, but he had never seen an arrival like this.
He reached out impulsively and took Kate’s hand to pull her toward the rail. Wolfie resisted the pull on the leash but finally gave in and followed them. Danny was thrilled that he now had a clear view of the Statue of Liberty, and he turned to Kate, hoping she would join in his excitement. “So that’s her,” he said. “That’s the Statue of Liberty. There were moments when I thought I would never live to see her.”
Kate looked up at the towering statue. For some reason, she seemed unhappy to be seeing it. Her mood puzzled him. Surely she was glad to be returning to New York. The journey on the Carpathia had been a nightmare for everyone, not only the survivors from the Titanic but also the passengers on the Carpathia.
“We talked about this in the lifeboat,” Danny said. “We promised each other that we would survive and we would live to see the Statue of Liberty.” He squeezed her hand. “There she is, and I’m alive to see her and standing next to a pretty girl.”
Despite the cold rain, Danny thought he saw a flush on Kate’s pale cheeks. He wished he could read her expression. Either she was flattered by his attention, or she was embarrassed to be holding hands with a mere radio operator. Something about her somber mood washed off on him. He was elated to see New York, but this was not the end of the road. Eventually, he would go on to Cape Race, but before he did that, he had a pledge to fulfill, and he had no idea what would be involved.
It was her turn to stare at him. She squeezed his hand and then released it. “Are you all right?” she asked.
He looked down at her. “How do I get to Washington, Miss Kate?”
“I’ve never been there myself,” Kate said, “but I suppose you would take a train. I thought you wanted to see New York.”
He shook his head. “I have to go to Washington.”
Wolfie growled a warning as someone pushed him aside and took a position beside the rail. Carlos Hurd, the newspaperman, gave them a triumphant smile and showed them the package he held in his hands. So this was his scoop, Danny thought, a bulky package wrapped in waterproof yellow fabric torn from a raincoat or a sou’wester, and dozens of champagne corks trailing from strings.
The Carpathia nosed its way forward with the Chester clearing a path. A brightly lit tugboat approached at speed and dodged past the US Navy cruiser. A light on the tugboat flashed on and off in rapid sequence.
“There you are,” Hurd said. “That’s my signal.”
He hurled the package from the rail, and Danny found that he was holding his breath to see if it would float. He knew what the package contained. Despite the captain’s orders to the contrary, and despite a concerted effort by the crew to deprive Hurd of writing paper, he had managed to obtain interviews with almost every survivor on board. His newspaper would have its front-page headlines before any of the other papers had even been allowed a single interview. No doubt the papers would feature Eva Trentham’s damning indictment of Sir Bruce Ismay, accusing him of being personally responsible for the loss of the Titanic. Danny thought about the messages that Cottam had intercepted. Ismay would try to keep the Titanic’s crew from setting foot ashore. If he succeeded in returning to Britain, it would not matter what the American newspapers said about him, but if he stayed in America, it would be quite a different story.
The package fell toward the water but quickly became entangled in rigging on the deck below. Hurd cursed under his breath, and just as he was turning away, no doubt to run down to the lower deck, an arm reached out from the deck below, untangled the package, and helped it on its way. The tugboat sent out a searchlight beam that knifed through the rain and settled on Hurd’s floating package. The Carpathia plowed on relentlessly, but Danny looked back into the ship’s wake and saw a crew member from the tugboat leaning out across the water with a long-handled boat hook.
Carl Hurd crowed triumphantly and rubbed his hands together. “Well, that’s my work done.” He nodded to Kate. “Tell Mrs. Trentham I’m really grateful.”
Before Kate could respond, she was startled by a short, sharp blast from the Carpathia’s horn. Danny saw her step back at the sudden shock, and her hands flew up in surprise, releasing her hold on Wolfie’s leash. Wolfie barked excitedly and hurtled toward the rail. He rose onto his hind legs. He was going to jump. Danny shouted an angry command at the heedless dog. After all that Wolfie had been through, surely he wasn’t going to drown right here and right now, just yards from safety.
Kate pulled her hand from Danny’s grasp and flung herself toward the rail. She grasped a handful of Wolfie’s hair, and the dog, deprived of an opportunity to hurl himself into the water, fell backward and landed on top of Kate. The ship began to turn, and the deck tilted. Kate and Wolfie were sliding toward the edge.
For Danny, time seemed to stand still. He was no longer on the Carpathia. He was one of the hundreds of helpless people sliding across the deck of the Titanic as the ship buried her bow into the icy water. The rain gusting around the Carpathia became the icy water of the deep Atlantic swirling around his feet. He relived the moment of the gunshot and the blood and the letter thrust into his hands.
He fought off the paralysis of memory and lunged forward. He grasped Wolfie’s collar with one hand and Kate’s collar with the other hand. He was not willing to let either one of them fall into the churning waters of the Hudson River. Before he could pull Kate to her feet, he was surrounded by helping hands and raised voices, and he was left to hold Wolfie’s collar while other hands set Kate on her feet. He realized that she would never even know what he had done to save her or how hard it had been to overcome that momentary paralysis.
Kate cast off the helping hands and smoothed her coat with shaking hands. “Is Wolfie all right?”
“Sure,” said Danny. “Wolfie’s fine.” He was suddenly angry with her. She had come close to drowning herself, and him along with her, because if she had gone over, he would have gone after her. “You didn’t need to try to drown yourself,” he said.
“He was going to jump.”
“He can swim,” Danny said. He took a deep breath and made an effort to overcome his anger. She would never understand, so why try? He forced a smile. “You should have seen him out there, swimming between the lifeboats and looking for a hand to pull him out. He’s a survivor.”
“So are you,” Kate said a little breathlessly, still smoothing her clothes. “How did you manage to survive?”
Danny shook his head. “I don’t want to talk about it. It’s over, and we’re here—that’s all that matters.”
“We’re still turning,” Kate said. “Why are we doing that? I thought we’d arrived.”
Danny wiped the rain from his face and leaned out over the rail, grimacing as he saw the water far below. Perhaps it was a good thing that his posting to Cape Race would keep him on land for a while.
He looked across at the crowded shore and a mass of people standing silently in the rain alongside Pier 54, the Cunard dock. The men removed their hats and the women bowed their heads as the Carpathia passed them by.
He felt Kate’s presence beside him. “We’re not stopping,” she said. “What’s happening?”
Danny leaned farther out and looked forward. “The crew is doing something with our lifeboats.”
“What do you mean?”
“Our lifeboats,” he repeated with a lump in his throat, realizing that the Titanic and her lifeboats would be forever his to remember. “They’re lowering the Titanic’s lifeboats.”
The Carpathia had slowed almost to a standstill. Danny leaned over the rail again. He shook his head as he felt tears prickling at the back of his eyes. “They shouldn’t do this,” he whispered. “It’s too much. Too much.”
Kate threaded her hand through his arm, but he could not speak. He could only watch as the Carpathia ghosted toward the White Star dock. Without any orders given aloud, or words spoken from the shore, the Carpathia lowered the Titanic’s lifeboats into the water, and a remnant of the Titanic’s crew took to the oars and rowed them into the gaping mouth of Pier 59 to return all that remained of the Titanic.
Kate Royston
The grim silence lingered as the helmsman backed the Carpathia away from Pier 59, leaving the lifeboats as a ghastly reminder of the Titanic’s fate. Time seemed to crawl as the Carpathia drifted almost silently into her berth on Pier 54. It was not until the great mooring ropes had been fed to the waiting longshoremen that the Carpathia’s steam horn blew one long, mournful whistle. Arrived in port. Now people on the shore began to call out, and the passengers and survivors on the Carpathia turned away from the rail and hurriedly prepared to disembark.
Looking down, Kate could see the gangplank being extended from several decks below. Uniformed officials waited at the foot of the gangplank, and police held back an eager crowd. The flotilla of boats that had rushed down the Hudson to meet them in the harbor now tried to squeeze into the berth alongside the Carpathia while cameras flashed and reporters used megaphones to shout questions and even offer money.
The Carpathia’s stewards passed among the throng of passengers, some with luggage, some with nothing but the clothes they stood up in.
“Carpathia’s passengers will be first ashore. Carpathia passengers to the Grand Salon. All Carpathia passengers must go ashore. If you still intend to sail with Carpathia, you will be issued a ticket. We will sail again in three days. Carpathia passengers to go ashore. All Titanic passengers wait on the stern deck. Carpathia passengers only.”
Kate stood still for a moment. Should she go back to Eva, or should she find the Van Burens?
“Shouldn’t you be leaving?” Danny said. “You were a Carpathia passenger, weren’t you?”
“Yes, I was, but ...”
Kate waited, not at all sure what she wanted Danny to say. He thrust out a hand. “It’s been a pleasure to know you, Miss Kate. Good luck.”
Kate returned his handshake, considered kissing him on the cheek just to make him feel uncomfortable, then thought better of it. She rested a hand on Wolfie’s head. “Good luck, Wolfie. Stay dry.”
As Kate left the promenade, she discovered Mrs. Broomer waiting for her. “Ah, Miss Royston, I’ve been looking for you. I want to tell you how grateful we are for your assistance with Mrs. Trentham.”
“Is she ...?”
“What?”
“Is she asking for me?”
“No, I don’t think so. I believe she’s employed one of the immigrant women to take care of her needs, and of course, her own household servants will be here to meet her. You’re free to go now, Miss Royston, with the thanks of the Cunard Line. Your portmanteau is in your cabin.”
So that was it. Eva Trentham had her own servants. She had no need of Kate. So now all that was left for Kate to do was find the Van Burens before they disembarked.
Kate entered her cabin for the first time in two days and found the Countess of Rothes lounging on one of the beds. “I’ve packed your bag,” she said. “I folded your apron and put it in there. I assume it is actually the property of the Carpathia, but I thought you should have a souvenir of what you did for the survivors.” She gave Kate a genuine smile. “You did well. I hope the White Star Line will find a way to express its appreciation.”
Kate shook her head. “I doubt that anyone even noticed me, with so many important people coming aboard.”
“I noticed you,” the countess said.
Kate lowered her eyes and stared at the floor.
“I see,” said the countess. “You don’t want to be noticed, do you? Are you running away?”
“Of course not,” Kate said brusquely. She looked around the cabin. “What have you done with my identity papers?”
“I placed them on top of your clothes, where they will be easy to reach when you leave the ship. I put them together with your ticket. You’ll need them both when you leave the ship. If you plan to do a lot of traveling, you should get one of the new passports. So much easier.”
Kate remained silent, and the countess laughed gently. “You don’t know what you plan to do, do you? Well, if it’s any comfort, I have also included my calling card. If you find yourself short of employment, you may present it to my housekeeper, and she will find a way to assist you.”
Kate stared at the countess in disbelief. Domestic work! Did the countess really think that Kate was desperate enough to take work as a parlor maid?
The countess continued to prattle on, apparently oblivious to the effect of her words. “You’re better off than the rest of us who have no papers,” she said. “You should be careful not to let yours be stolen.”
Kate tried to avoid scowling. She didn’t need the countess to tell her how to handle her papers.
“Of course,” the countess continued, “I won’t have a problem. I have a very recognizable face and, shall we say, persona.”
Kate bit her tongue. She could see no point in arguing or defending herself, and in fact, the countess could be correct in her assessment. Perhaps all that was left for Kate was to become a parlor maid.
“By the way,” the countess asked, “how is Wolfie?”
“He’s fine. He’ll go with Mrs. Trentham.”
The countess raised her eyebrows. “Oh dear. Poor dog. That woman is truly dreadful, but no one else will say it, because she can ruin anyone just like that.” The countess snapped her fingers. “Not me, of course. I do nothing to protect my reputation, and so she can do nothing to ruin it. I’m told she has her knife in Sir Bruce Ismay.”
“With good reason,” Kate declared as she picked up her bag. “He saved himself.”
“So did I.”
“But you’re a woman.”
“Yes, seems a bit unfair, doesn’t it? I save myself, just like Molly Brown, and we’re both heroines. Sir Bruce saves himself and he’s a villain, a blaggard.” The countess shrugged her shoulders. “Run along, Miss Royston. Run as fast as you can, before you lose your firm grasp on right and wrong.”
Kate turned sharply and hurried out of the cabin, struggling with the weight of her bag. She had so few earthly possessions—how could it be so heavy? As she entered the Grand Salon, now only a very untidy shadow of its former grandeur, she saw the Van Buren family waiting with their hand luggage resting at their feet. Mr. van Buren, a tall, balding man with a mustache worthy of a walrus, peered over the heads of the crowd, searching for someone. His eyes lit up when he saw her, and he waved her toward him.
Kate took a deep breath—time to find out what the future held in store. She was not sure what outcome she could expect, but she knew the possibilities. The Van Burens would refuse to pay her for her time with them, because she had, in fact, deserted them, or they would pay her for her time but would not want to employ her again, or they would rebook their Mediterranean cruise and ask Kate to continue with them.
As she made her way through the milling passengers, Kate tried to face up to each possibility. What would she do if she was summarily dismissed, thrown off the ship without a penny? Even if she could raise the money for a third-class ticket, she was no longer confident about her original plan to jump ship in Gibraltar and make her way through Spain and eventually to England to her mother’s family. Eva Trentham had been shockingly candid about what awaited Kate if she arrived alone and penniless at the British naval base in Gibraltar. Kate stiffened her spine. No point in standing here and wondering when Mr. van Buren was beckoning her to his side.
Two men in rough clothes, apparently very eager to depart, jostled Kate, and she found herself pressed against Mr. van Buren’s chest while he enclosed her with a protective arm. Well, maybe not entirely protective. He was holding her very close, very close indeed. She pulled away and turned to face Mrs. van Buren, whose face was sour and pale as she studied Kate.
“Where have you been, Miss Royston? I have searched for you for three days. You have obviously not been in your cabin, which was instead occupied by that very obnoxious countess.”
“I was helping with the sick,” Kate said. “I have some small experience with nursing, as I told you in my résumé.”
Mrs. van Buren’s lips twitched with disapproval. “You abandoned the children.”
“There were other children,” Kate snapped, “without mothers or fathers.”
Mr. van Buren loomed over his wife’s shoulder. “She’s right, Magda. We can’t fault her for being helpful.”
Mrs. van Buren shrugged. “I suppose not, but it doesn’t matter now. We have decided not to proceed with our journey. The children are very upset. This has been quite terrifying for them. We shall be returning home, and the children will return to school. We’ll have no need of your services.”
For a sickening moment, the deck seemed to drop away beneath Kate’s feet. She had known this was a possibility, but now that the possibility had become a fact, she felt a wave of panic. Where would she go? What would she do? She would have to find another ship, another employer, another way to reach Europe.
“Miss Royston!” Mr. van Buren’s arm was suddenly around her waist. Had she been about to faint? Mr. van Buren’s arm remained firmly in place as he turned to his wife. “I think we must take Miss Royston home with us tonight,” he said. “We can hardly cast her adrift on a night like this. She can stay tonight and leave in the morning.” His face was now very close to Kate’s. “That would be best, wouldn’t it, Miss Royston?” His tongue flickered out and licked his lower lip.
She wanted to push him away and tell him never to touch her again, but she couldn’t form the words. He was right. She had nowhere else to go, not tonight. She would have to go with them. Suddenly all her girlish ideas of charming her way across Europe on the strengths of her good looks and innocence were revealed as nothing but naive fantasies. Eva had been right. Kate had no idea how to behave around men. Flirting was beyond her. The very idea of Mr. van Buren’s arm around her waist horrified her.
At another sour look from his wife, Mr. van Buren removed his arm from Kate’s waist. “I’m going to find a cab. Magda, you and Miss Royston can bring the children.”
Mrs. van Buren looked at seven-year-old Brigitta, who was tugging at her mother’s coat. “Not now, Brigitta. Hold Miss Royston’s hand.” She tipped her head at Kate. “Bring both of them.”
Kate shook her head, appalled at the idea of holding Brigitta’s hand, and likewise the hand of her twin brother, Herbert. She knew how those hands would feel: sticky, and demanding, and ready to pinch when she was not expecting it, the pinching accompanied by a whining refusal to do what she asked. She realized that a secret place deep in her heart was relieved not to be continuing the journey with the Van Burens.
“I have to carry my bag,” Kate protested. “I’ll follow you, but I don’t have a free hand for the children. They’ll have to walk by themselves.”
Mr. van Buren spoke sharply to his offspring and equally sharply to Kate. “Follow me, all of you. Now!”
Kate trailed behind her former employers, watching Mr. van Buren’s tall figure as they descended the grand staircase. She was hemmed in by the Carpathia’s passengers, all shuffling toward the gangplank and the waiting crowd. Of course, the crowd was not waiting to greet the Carpathia’s passengers; they were waiting for the tragic procession yet to come—the survivors of the Titanic. Nonetheless, cameras flashed. Reporters wasting film, Kate thought.
Mr. and Mrs. van Buren and the children were well ahead of Kate as she reached the top of the gangplank. She stepped from the warmth of the interior into the gusty rain and saw Mr. van Buren ushering his family past a phalanx of police officers, who were not only keeping the crowds at bay but very obviously making sure that no one from the Titanic was able to sneak ashore. Of course, she thought, that made perfect sense. The Carpathia’s passengers were people on their way to Europe; the Carpathia was not carrying immigrants trying to find a new life in the United States, but the Titanic had carried immigrants from all over Europe, and now those immigrants had no papers or possessions, and some were children without parents, and some wives without husbands. Processing them as they came ashore on this cold, wet, windy night was just another part of the nightmare.
As she stood, looking and thinking and arguing with herself, she glanced sideways and saw that the two rough men who had jostled her were now on the deck below the gangplank. While she watched, she saw them lean over the railing and call to one of the boats that hovered and buzzed like aggressive insects along the hull of the Carpathia. What were they doing? Soon both men had climbed over the railing, and they stood poised as if ready to jump into the dark, churning water. A small boat, jostling the other boats, made toward them. A camera flashed.
A raised voice carried above the sound of the crowd. She made out the shouted question. “Titanic survivor? I’ll give you a hundred bucks for your story. Jump.”
The first man jumped, missed his target, and plunged into the dark confusion of waves and current far below. The men in the boat turned their heads for only a moment and then turned back to the other man. “Two hundred. Jump.”
This man was now hesitating, but other men were crowding the rail. The offer was repeated, raised this time to three hundred.
Kate was pushed from behind, and an impatient voice grumbled in her ear. “Move along, miss.”
As she took another step down the gangplank toward her unknown destiny, she saw that the police were parting the crowd and escorting a group of men up the gangplank, like fish swimming against the current.
She had time for only a very quick impression of the men in civilian clothes, a dapper gray-mustached gentleman in an elegant homburg hat, a young man in a high-collared suit, and a tall, lanky man with cold gray eyes who cleared a path for himself and his companions just by being.
She turned her eyes away from him and focused on the leading police officer. “A man jumped,” she gasped. “He’s in the water and no one’s looking. They’re offering money.”
“Who is offering money, miss?”
“The reporters in the boats. They’re offering money to men from the Titanic and telling the men to jump, but one of them jumped already, and he missed the boat, and no one seems to care.”
“All right, miss. Where did you see this?”
“I was coming down the gangplank and looked over to my left, and I saw it.”
The policeman tipped his hat. “Thank you, miss. We’ll take care of it. You be on your way, and be careful.” He turned to the man in the homburg hat. “Sorry, Senator. I’ll have to take care of this myself. You go on ahead. He’s in the doctor’s cabin, or so they say.”
Doctor’s cabin! Senator! Kate’s brain made an instinctive leap. This must be Senator Smith, the man Eva had summoned, and she knew of only one man who was in the doctor’s office, and it wasn’t the doctor. Dr. Lengyel was supervising the care of injured survivors. He had hardly left the smoking room since the survivors had been picked up. He would not now be in his cabin.
The policeman blew his whistle and gesticulated at other officers, waiting on the shore. Kate thought it very unlikely that the man who had jumped would be saved, but perhaps someone else could be stopped from jumping. How desperate would a man have to be to think of jumping from the deck of the Carpathia onto a tiny boat darting back and forth on the dark, choppy water?
The senator hurried forward, nodding to her as he passed and addressing his younger companion in an irritated voice. “Where the devil is the doctor’s cabin? We have to get to him before he has a chance to slink off. We have to get to all of them before White Star Line sends a launch to get them away without setting foot ashore.”
She spoke without pausing to think of the consequences of delay and the possibility that the Van Burens would leave without her. “I can show you. I’m the person who sent you the messages from Mrs. Trentham.”