The oars slapped the water so gently I had to strain my ears to hear them. But it wasn’t the water I was listening for; it was signs of human life.

A prayer, a curse, a plea, it made no difference. I prayed I would hear a noise. Any noise at all! It didn’t matter what type!

As I lingered at the rudder, the young men before me continued to slowly row.

"Don’t hit them," I said. My voice cracked, due to the cold or the sinking feeling I had in my gut, or both.

I was painfully oblivious to the chill around me. My metal flashlight was half frozen to my hand and yet I couldn’t feel it. I couldn’t sense the biting cold that slapped at my cheeks.

I could only feel the rhythmic beating of my heart in my chest.

"Is there anyone alive out there?" I cried out as loudly as I could. "Can anyone hear me?"

John Drew remained at the head of my lifeboat, holding a lantern high above his head. He lowered it so that he could stretch out his arms to touch a body in the sea. His hands were gentle as he pulled at the lifebelt in an effort to see if the person was still alive.

Drew frowned to himself as he let the body go.

He reached for another only to repeat his actions again and again.

"These are all dead, sir," he said in a weak voice.

Two other people, a man whose name I did not know and a young woman, remained with us. I had tried urging her to stay with the other lifeboats, but she would have none of it. I was both annoyed with her and in admiration. Not only was she frustrating as hell, she could row like the best of them.

Two men, Simon and Edward, brothers and both employed by the White Star Line, began to pull up their oars as we came into a debris field. Deck chairs and other pieces of the once glorious Titanic floated around us like a child’s forgotten toys.

"Mind your oars, men," I ordered. "Don’t hit them."

I raised my flashlight once again for signs of life. The single beam of light stretched out for as far as my eyes could see. All I could see was death in the form of endless, unmoving bodies.

My heart wrenched and sank to my stomach as we passed a woman clutching her baby to her chest. The infant was so young.

And the mother...oh, God, what did she leave behind and have to look forward to? What sort of new life awaited her in the New World?

Tears stung my eyes and threatened to flow down my cheeks. I turned my head away for a few precious seconds to regain my composure.

I knew that image of the poor lady with her infant would haunt me for the rest of my days.

"We waited too long..." I said softly to myself.

My eyes turned to the men in the lifeboat. They were all staring back at me, their faces all asking me what to do next.

"Well, keep checking them! Keep looking!" I snapped.

The boat gently tugged again, telling me we were once again on our way.

"Hello? Can anyone hear me?" I called out into the air.

Drew and Simon were frantically moving to try to move bodies out of the way. I could hear a low sob escape the throat of one of them.

I nearly moaned aloud at the noise. Like him, I wanted to do nothing more than to weep at the horrors before me.

Lord, please let some of them be alive. I beg you! I prayed.

A chattering noise interrupted my prayer. I held my flashlight up to find an Asian man trapped in a precarious balance on a piece of wood.

"I see him! I see him! Row, men, row!" I commanded.

The man continued to talk in a language none of us could understand. If he spoke English, he gave us no sign.

The single action gave me hope that there were other lives out there, other passengers that could be saved, if only they could hold on for a few more moments.

Simon and Edward pulled the Asian man into the boat as rapidly as they could without hurting him or themselves. The man took a few steps in a frantic attempt not to fall into the water.

He ungracefully collapsed into the boat with a dull thud. To me, it appeared as if the rest of his ebbing strength had left him as he collapsed into the boat.

"Get him a blanket. Keep him warm," I said.

A plaid blanket was thrown over the man’s shoulders as I barked out more orders. As soon as the words escaped my lips, I had forgotten what I had said. I could’ve recited my mother’s favorite recipe in Welsh for all I knew. Thankfully, whatever it was I had said, it made sense to them.

The Asian man remained sitting for several moments. Out of the corners of my eyes I could see him rubbing his hands and arms. Before long, he began talking to us in his language. He could’ve been insulting us, for all we knew. When he realized we could not understand him, he stood up to get the blood circulating again. He stomped his feet several times against the boards.

My mouth opened to tell him not to do that. I feared the boat would capsize. My jaws opened and shut several times, as no words would come.

Edward looked near collapse as he pulled the oar along like a duck with a broken wing. Simon muttered to his brother and Edward weakly shook his head.

The Asian man nudged Edward aside and grabbed the oar.

All we could do was stare at him with wide eyes and open mouths as he began to row!

"By Jove!" I exclaimed in astonishment.

*****

"Sir! Sir! There’s another one! A man! Over there!" Drew shouted.

"Hello?" I hollered. I knew the man might not be able to move, but he could holler.

"Help!" the man squeaked.

"Keep hollering! We’ll find you!"

I watched as the man was pulled into the boat. From the brief glimpse I saw of him, I could see he closely resembled Officer James Moody.

Moody!

Was he even still alive?

Were Murdoch, Lightoller, and Wilde alive?

I didn’t have an answer for my own question.

I prayed that they were.

My grip tightened on the rudder as more lifeless bodies were moved out of the way.

The sight of a young child’s lifeless eyes staring up at me made my heart sink once again. The elation I had so briefly felt was replaced with a deep-seated sorrow.

She was the young one who had played a game of "ask the officer" with me. Yesterday, I had tried to answer her questions as best as I could, though I did bluntly tell her she would have to leave me alone after a while. If I could, I would’ve taken those words back, just so that I could hear her pestering voice ask me just one more question.

My voice stopped in my throat as I tried to holler once again. My shoulders jerked roughly and the words came.

Seconds ticked by like minutes and minutes like hours.

My hand had gone numb, though I barely noticed it. My arm felt as if it was going to fall away from my shoulder, but I would not lower it. My throat hurt from all my shrieking.

I was set to torture my throat again when I heard a noise. My body tensed as my ears strained to catch where the noise came from.

Was it a shriek?

I heard the noise again and recognized it as the sound of a whistle.

My upper half spun around so quickly I came close to falling over onto my back.

"Come about!" I ordered.

It was a pale, red-haired woman we pulled from the water.

Looking past the woman, I recognized the face of Chief Officer Wilde. I wanted to weep at the sight of Wilde’s body.

The poor man had four sons! Who was to take care of the orphans now?

A light tugging on my coat brought me back to the red-haired woman. We put blankets on her and she would not stop shivering. I feared that she would die from exposure before we could reach safety.

*****

Dawn emerged slowly for us. As the first rays of light appeared over the horizon, I lit a green flare and waved it high above my head while yelling as loudly as my tortured throat and lungs would allow. My voice cracked and pain stung me with every breath.

The green light reflected off the water stinging my eyes. The smoke from the flare stung my throat.

Silently, I made a vow to drink the largest glass of honey tea I could find once we reached safety. My mother was always good at reminding me of that when I was a small boy, long before I ran away from my home.

Something strong hit me from behind, nearly sending my hat into the sea. Slowly, a knowing grin began to cross my face.

"Sir?" Drew asked.

"We’re going to set sail!" I exclaimed.

"Sir?"

"Here, take the flare. We are going to take advantage of this wind and make a sail."

"How?" the young woman who rowed with us asked.

"I’ll show you, ma’am. Simon, pass me that extra blanket."

Simon did as he was told and I promptly set up a basic sail that caught the wind quite nicely. I returned to my spot at the rudder and let the wind take its course.

Along the way, we found Collapsible Lifeboat A and took them with us.

The silence between our two boats was eerie. Neither side dared speak up first. We continued in our hush until Edward shrieked like an excited child, "Sir, sir! It’s the Carpathia!"

I got to my feet to lower my makeshift sail. I bent down so that I could hold onto the rudder as my eyes looked ahead.

My dark eyes scanned upwards until I reached the large lettering on the side of the ship. People standing on the decks looked down at us in small clusters.

The passengers were brought aboard the ship before the sailors and myself were. I was given a hot cup of tea and told to rest. I had done enough for now.

As exhausted as I was, I did not want to rest. I still wanted to work. I felt as if I hadn’t done enough.

My body refused to listen to me. I ended up sitting down, sipping my tea, and found it difficult to get back up again.

Before I knew it, I had finished my tea and was sleeping soundly.

*****

I half-awoke to the sight of a young stewardess placing a blanket over me.

"I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you," she said.

"No, no, it’s quite all right," I muttered. "Excuse me."

My aching bones allowed me to climb to my feet and leave the room I was in. I soon found Officers Pitman and Boxhall on deck.

"Gentlemen," I said.

"Mr. Lowe," Pitman responded. "How are you feeling?"

"Sore, sir."

Boxhall nodded. "It was a brave thing you did, Mr. Lowe."

"Thank you, sir. Where are the other officers?"

Pitman and Boxhall exchanged nervous looks.

My eyes went from one to the other until Pitman spoke. "Mr. Lightoller is the only other officer who has been listed among the survivors."

My heart started to pound at that revelation. I tried comforting myself, telling myself that until the names were listed among the dead, there was a chance Moody and Murdoch were still alive.

"Officer Wilde..." I began to say. "Officer Wilde has died. He froze to death."

"I...I am sorry to hear that," Pitman said as he and Boxhall lowered their eyes.

An uncomfortable feeling began to well up inside of me. "Excuse me, sirs."

I could’ve arrived sooner.

I could’ve saved him.

I could’ve.

Damn the words "I could’ve!" They were among the cruelest words known to man.

"Mister Lowe!" a commanding and familiar voice shouted.

I turned to find Lightoller approaching me at a slow pace. He looked exhausted and was wearing someone else’s uniform. The last I saw of him, he had been wearing a large sweater and his long coat. Somewhere between Titanic’s sinking and now, he had been given a clean and most likely warm change of clothes.

"Mr. Lightoller, sir," I answered.

"Come with me, Mr. Lowe."

"Yes, sir."

Lightoller stayed close by my side as we walked inside.

"How many did you save?" he finally asked.

"Sir?"

"I was told that you went back for survivors. How many did you rescue?"

"Six, sir."

Lightoller nodded.

"Mr. Lightoller?"

"Yes?"

"Do you know what happened to Mr. Moody and Murdoch?"

"They haven’t been found," Lightoller said after an awkward silence.

"You mean they’re dead," I said.

Lightoller sighed.

"I..." Tears welled up in my eyes despite my strongest efforts to stop them.

"Harold?"

The dam broke. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I blubbered half in English, half in Welsh, though to me it all sounded like gibberish.

So many innocent people had died. Though I did not know my fellow officers well, in the brief time I had known them I admired them. We were an odd assortment of men, and yet we could’ve become friends.

I could’ve played another game of "ask the officer" with that little girl.

I could’ve done a great deal of things differently.

Lightoller didn’t scold me for my behavior. Instead, I felt his arms pull me into a tight hug against his body. I wept into the rough cloth that clad his shoulders.

"Go ahead, Harold. Let it all out," Lightoller said softly.

I wept until I couldn’t cry anymore.

Lightoller’s arms moved until he held me out at arm’s length. "Go get your face cleaned up," he instructed me, as if I was his own son.

"Yes, sir," I hiccupped.

"I’ll be outside if I’m needed."

I nodded again as I sniffled.

I saluted awkwardly and he returned it.

As he walked away, I spun on my heel in the search of the nearest basin.

It hurts to have one’s world shattered. It really does. Within one week, I had been transferred to the greatest ship ever built, only to have it sink beneath my feet. There were those I had befriended and talked with that I would never see again.

I breathed a quiet prayer that they all made it safely to the other side. What was it the Irish said? May you be in heaven for a long time before the devil knows you are dead? It was something like that.

As my world had been broken, Lightoller was the single person that kept me anchored in my moment of need.

For that single action, I would be eternally grateful.

And I knew how just to repay him. I would keep my back straight and my head high as I helped the other victims of the Titanic disaster.

The End.

Stories