SAVE ALL WHO DARE THE EAGLE’S FLIGHT
Chapter Eighteen

O Spirit Whom the Father sent
To spread abroad the firmament,
O Wind of Heaven, by Thy might
Save all who dare the eagle's flight,
And keep them by Thy watchful care
From every peril in the air!

As selfish as I may sound, I was and am truly grateful that our boat had drifted away from the splashing, roiling mass; otherwise, we might have been pulled into the water. The screams didn’t last for long; the temperature of the water took its toll quickly. I have often marveled that we survived; our bodies were mostly submerged until dawn. When the screams and sobs had died down and those who had had the strength to paddle over to us--one of them was drunk, and he claims that the whiskey he drank warmed him and protected him, for the most part, from the icy water--had either left us alone or given in to exhaustion, someone asked if we knew the Hail Mary. I did not know it and so listened as most of the boat said it in reverent unison.

"Hail Mary, Full of Grace, The Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now, and at the hour of death. Amen."

When the last Amen had been uttered, the same person asked if we knew the Lord’s Prayer. This I knew; it was almost impossible not to have heard it. I managed to say it with the others, trying to concentrate on that and forget about my numb legs and wet clothes that had me shivering.

"Our Father, Who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy Name. Thy Kingdom come, Thy Will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil, for Thine is the Kingdom, and the Power, and the Glory, forever. Amen."

I couldn’t help feeling that it was a very fitting prayer for the moment. Many have scorned God and asked how he can let the world be so evil. I heard this question frequently in regards to the Titanic, the Lusitania, and of course the war. I wondered myself. But now I know that hubristic men boasted and bragged that God himself could not sink the Ship of Dreams. God proved them wrong in a way that, if they survived, they would never, ever forget.

Before long, the only officer on the boat pointed out that we would lose the feeling in our legs if we continued to kneel on them, so we should try to stand. No one protested; he knew what he was doing and we were willing to do anything to survive. I nearly stumbled and I had to hold onto Eugene a few times to steady myself. The officer ordered all of us to stand facing the bow. Our feet were in the freezing water, but there was no other alternative. One man remained lying on the boat; his legs were too badly injured for him to stand. He was weaker than anyone, and none of us begrudged him; we would rather stand in the frigid water than have our legs in the pain he was in.

The officer’s voice sounded familiar to me, and I soon recognized him as the one who had given me the time the other day. He had also been the one overseeing the loading of the first lifeboat we had gone to. I had disliked him then, but now, I depended on him. We all did. He would order us to lean to the left or to the right, or even to stand upright. In this way, we managed to keep our balance during the swells.

When someone, a teenager, I think, asked how long we would have to wait, the officer turned the question over to Jack Phillips, the senior wireless operator, for he was standing beside the officer. Phillips reported that a rescue ship, the Carpathia, was on its way and would be here by daylight. Phillips never did make it to see his calculations carried out; he was one of those who slipped off from exhaustion. We brought his body onto the Carpathia; he, at least, had the honor of being given a proper burial at sea.

Hours passed on Collapsible B. Lights has often remarked that if ever there was a time when human endurance was tested to the absolute limit, it was the freezing morning of April 15, 1912. It was the kind of cold that you can never get used to, intensified at least ten times. I was, as the old saying goes, soaked to the bone, and I don’t think I ever stopped shivering. We were too worn out to talk; it was all we could do to stay awake and lean to the sides when instructed. Even this was too much for some; a few men slipped off the boat and into the water, making a small splash as they succumbed to exhaustion. The boat would rock slightly after their weight had been removed, but we always shifted our weight until we were still again.

Although we never spoke to one another on the Englehardt, we did a great deal of talking on the Carpathia; I soon found out that my other companions that morning were Eugene Daly, Second Officer Charles "Lights" Lightoller, Colonel Archibald Gracie, Jack Phillips, Harold Bride, Chief Baker Charles Joughin--the drunk man, a cook named Isaac Maynard, Patrick O’Keefe, Algernon Barkworth, Jack Thayer, Jr., William Mellors, Edward Dorking, Albert Moss, Victor Sunderland, a trimmer named Ernest Allen, David Livshin--he was one of those who died, Walter Hurst, Charles Judd, Harry Senior, a Mr. Hebb, James McGann, John O’Connor, Eustace Snow, George Prangnell, Thomas Whiteley, Sidney Daniels, Charles Fitzpatrick, and John Collins.

Most of these men were firemen and trimmers and stewards and such; it seemed that most of the actual passengers had managed to get off safely. I had thought that was a good thing at the time, that the boats were able to take away men; I soon learned that some of these men had shouldered their way onto boats and left families to perish. I was the only woman aboard and the youngest person there. It earned me more attention than I liked; I don’t think that anyone should be made a hero when all they did was survive. I came to be on very good terms with some of them; others, I have not seen since docking in New York.

We were all exhausted. I’m lucky that Eugene was directly behind me; whenever I would nod off, he would pinch my ear, just enough to wake me up, and I would catch myself and remain alert for at least a few moments afterwards. We were there until dawn, when the blessed sun finally rose. It brought a warmth that you cannot imagine, feeble as it was; anything felt warm when compared to the brisk night air we had been exposed to. However, the fact remained that the boat was gradually sinking. All of us were weighing it down, and since we couldn’t very well push anyone off, we had to allow our legs to be submerged in the icy water. It didn’t feel quite so terrible as time wore on; my legs grew numb and then the water warmed ever so slightly when the sun came up.

We eventually caught the attention of lifeboats number four and twelve. Although they, too, were loaded down with passengers, they had not reached their maximum--few of the first boats to launch had--and there was room for more. The water was practically up to my waist by this time and it was all I could do to stay up. My ears throbbed from all the times Eugene had to pinch me and I wanted to cry from exhaustion, but I was too tired to even do that. Lifeboat 4 came over to the side I was standing on, and Lights--as I would later call him--asked that "the young lady be the first." Apparently, the rule of "women and children first" still applied in his mind.

I remember very little of being transported from Collapsible B to Lifeboat 4. I remember that two men reached out to help me while the occupants of Boat 4 scooted to the back. Nearly all of them were first class, and for once, they were not regarding me with scorn. Instead, they looked at me with pity and kindness. One man took my left arm and, after Eugene helped to steady me, I pushed off and my right arm was caught by the other man. I remember putting my left foot on the edge of the boat before going dizzy. After that, I recall almost nothing of the boat ride. I’m told that Madeleine Astor, one of the occupants of the boat, asked if there were any blankets for me. I never spoke to her, but I am touched by her compassion; as a distressed young widow in the family way, she certainly had no cause to spare a thought for anyone else. I would not have blamed her if she did.

While in the boat, I dreamed. I dreamt that I was sinking into the water, down to where the broken Titanic finally rested. I floated down to the deck, the first class section, and as if I knew where to go, I glided right inside. I went down a hallway, feeling as if this were the most natural thing in the world. I came to a pair of glass doors, where inside, I could see hundreds of passengers gathered around the Grand Staircase. Two smiling, uniformed men opened the doors for me and I came through. Standing there were the Gundersons, the Cartmells, the McFarlands, the Dahls, and most importantly, my boys.

Fabrizio and Helga had their arms linked, he leaning against the railing of the stairs. Jack was at the top of the stairs, staring at the clock. Tommy stepped out from the crowd, holding his hat and grinning. I moved forward, but he shook his head, halting me.

"It’s not yer time yet, Angie," he told me, shaking his head and smiling still.

"But I’m ready," I found myself protesting. "I want to be here with you, with all of you."

"But it’s not yer time," Tommy told me again, patient. "Yer time will come. But not today. Not now. You’ll come back ter us someday. But not now."

And then, just like that, I felt myself gliding backwards, leaving the room and going back down the hallway and floating up from the Titanic. I find myself repeating that dream continually; Tommy’s answer is always the same. When I reached the surface, I jerked and awoke.

"Ah…there she is," someone said.

"Are you all right?" another voice asked.

I sat up slowly; I was in the bottom of Lifeboat 4. Clean, feminine faces peered down at me, their finery evident at once. Everything came rushing back to me.

"Eugene…" I tried to say, but my voice was hoarse and it cracked.

"Oh, you poor thing, we’ll get you some water onboard," one woman fussed.

"I’m here," Eugene’s voice announced; I turned and saw him sitting beside me, looking somewhat uncomfortable. But he smiled when I found him. "Amazing, innit, that you need some water after last night."

I could have cried when he said that, but there was just nothing left in me to cry. So I closed my eyes and leaned against the side of the boat.

"Ah…you don’t want to be doing that, lass," he said patiently.

"Why not?" I asked sleepily; I could have drifted off again right then and there. I wanted to go back to the Titanic and demand Tommy let me stay; anything to ease the aching exhaustion suffocating me.

"Because we’re about to board."

I opened my eyes again and looked behind me, where everyone else was looking; sure enough, a steamer loomed over us. The lettering on the side confirmed that this was the Carpathia, our rescue ship. I admit that I was momentarily taken aback by its size; after the ship I had sailed upon and watched sink, this steamer with only one funnel seemed miniscule! But there again, everything was miniscule when compared to the Titanic. Passengers from the other boats were carefully ascending a rope ladder; the sight of those extravagant ladies in their fur and feathers would have struck me as amusing were it a different situation.

When our turn to board came, the men in the boat steadied it against the ship, positioned at the base of the rope ladder. There was no particular order; whoever was nearest climbed. When my turn came, I forced myself to hang on, telling myself that after this, I could sleep for as long as I wanted to. I had to pause once or twice; dizziness threatened to send me back down the ladder every now and then. But finally, I made it. Two uniformed seamen with Cunard Line emblazoned on their hats pulled me over the edge without asking. I was grateful; I lacked the strength to do so myself.

As soon as they had let go of me, a uniformed man asked me my name. I must have given it to him, although I don’t remember much of it, because he wrote it down. A woman offered me another blanket--I was still wearing the one Mrs. Astor had obtained for me--and a mug, but I shook my head and kept walking; I was too tired for the blanket to benefit me much, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to hold onto a mug, let alone drink from it. All I wanted was to sleep.

I didn’t stand in the crowd and wait like so many others were doing; I was overcome with exhaustion. I slowly untied my lifebelt as I made my way to a place where I could sit. Fabrizio had fastened these ties for me. I could not even cry at this at that moment. I finally came to a wall on the steerage deck--I was directed there by a harried-looking steward without asking--and I fell against it, holding my lifebelt loosely in one hand. The minute my head had settled against the wall, I was asleep.

Chapter Nineteen
Stories