EVERYTHING’S NOT LOST
Chapter Thirty-One
"Here you go,
Antoinette." Harry handed me a porcelain cup filled with coffee before
sitting down beside me on a Carpathia deck chair, a cup for him in his hand.
"Thanks." I took a sip,
and although the heat stung the roof of my mouth, I know it’s not that hot.
Even if my hands may burn from the heat of the liquid, I know it’s not that
warm. When you’re as cold as I was, you’d understand the stinging, tingling
feeling I’ve been having. It starts at the top of your head all the way to your
toes and it doesn’t really ever want to go away.
"God, what a mess." He
gestured around us. Titanic passengers were scattered about the Carpathia’s
deck, on the ground, wrapped up in blankets from Titanic herself or this ship
now—Mostly women are begging for officers with passengers lists if their loved
ones are on there, or if there’s another ship that picked up passengers.
Everyone I knew and cared for isn’t on that list, so why bother asking? Some
are merely solemn, some are speaking to the people around them, most everyone
is sobbing…but it’s an absolute mess. It really is.
"This is awful," I said
softly. "…Everyone’s…gone."
"Lightoller made it,"
Harry said, with a tinge of hope in his voice. Isn’t that the officer who told
everyone he’d shoot them like dogs? And I quote? "So did a few other
officers. But, everyone else is…"
"Gone." Silence fell
over us and for a mere moment, all I could do was watch as the people around us
seemed to break down, both mentally and physically.
"Harry?" We both looked
up and standing there, looking completely exhausted was Officer Charles
Lightoller—also, as I remember correctly, the same officer I had yelled at to
let that little boy have his polar bear. And there he was. "Dear God, I
didn’t think you made it." He glanced at me. "I didn’t think you did
either, Miss Andrews."
"Antoinette is fine," I
said hoarsely, taking a gulp of the coffee. I mean, after all of this, and even
before, with the poker, does he think I care about formalities?
"I didn’t think you did,
either," Harry managed to say.
"Herbert said you went
back?" I nodded at him, when Harry merely shrugged, not wanting to take
credit for anything.
"Four people," I told
him. "That’s who we were able to save. Everyone else had already
frozen."
"Nobody went back," Lightoller
said, shaking his head. "Nobody wanted to be swarmed." Common fear, I
suppose. "And now, rumor has it that Bruce Ismay was the one who wanted
Titanic at full speed, and ordered her last boilers lit. Can you imagine?"
Oh, I can. He sat down beside Harry.
"What does that even have to
do with the sinking?" I asked curiously. Why did he get so off-subject,
all of a sudden?
"Well, Will had said if we
weren’t going so fast, we probably would’ve been able to turn and miss the
iceberg completely." He shook his head, as if he was trying to get his
mind off of William Murdoch. I know how he feels. "…It was too difficult
to turn when the people at the look-out saw—" Harry shook his head at him.
"Whosoever fault it was, I
guess it doesn’t really matter. She sank, either way."
"But, that does sound like
an Ismay move," I agreed.
"Why would he want to go
faster, anyway?" Harry asked us. "We were going to make it to New
York in time." My mind flashed back to early last night, when the Captain
said he thought Ismay would get his headlines, after we all realized the ship
would sink.
"He must’ve wanted
press," I thought aloud. As if Titanic didn’t have enough! She was the
largest moving object ever built. I then shrugged. "I don’t know…" I
glanced at Lightoller. "Did he even live?"
"I haven’t seen him
anywhere—" He paused. "But it wouldn’t be completely shocking if he
made it." The cad. He couldn’t even go down on the ship like a man. What a
coward. "Even if our fine Captain didn’t make it—I would place good money
on the fact that the charming Mr. Ismay probably did." Lightoller said
that with such sarcasm in his voice, that if we had still been on the Titanic,
we would’ve laughed. Instead, we all just shook our heads, as if disgusted. I’m
disgusted. I don’t know about these two, but I’m absolutely disgusted.
"The Captain always goes
down with his ship," I said, breaking the silence. Not necessarily the
ship’s builder, but the Captain always goes down with his ship. But, really, it
wasn’t the Captain’s ship. It was my father’s, he built Titanic from the ground
up. Either way, there was no reason for him to die with her. It makes no sense.
Then again, nothing seems to make sense.
"Titanic had a fine
crew," Lightoller sighed, rubbing his eyes.
"No one deserved to
die," I said softly. Harry glanced at me. This sad look appeared on his
face before he nodded.
"If only we had had enough
lifeboats…" he said, his voice trailing off. Yet again, my mind wandered
further back into my memory bank and I found myself on the day before Titanic
was to sail out of Southampton, with my father beside me. I remember him
distinctively wanting more lifeboats—Ismay didn’t. Ismay obviously won that
battle.
"She’s an unsinkable ship,
Miss Andrews! Nothing can sink her!" Ismay had said proudly. I remember
giving him this skeptical look, because he then said, "Really, she
is." Well, Titanic was not an unsinkable ship, as we all know now. My
father knew that, though. Iron can fail.
Ismay, getting back to the point,
then proceeded to tell my father that the lifeboats were a waste of deck space
and beautiful hardwood. My father had kept his cool, and had said: "To
you, Bruce, they are. To me, they keep my passengers content." My father.
"He didn’t make it, did
he?" Lightoller’s British voice pulled me out of my head and looking over
at him, I shook my head, bringing my father’s coat closer to me.
"He wouldn’t leave," I
said hoarsely, gripping the porcelain cup tighter than before.
"Thomas Andrews was a true
gentleman," Lightoller said, full of remorse. "It’s such as
shame—" Harry shook his head at him, as if to stop him from making any
type of speech as I looked down at Carpathia’s deck.
"Not now, Charles," he
said simply, beginning to rub circles into my back.
"I am so sorry,
Antoinette," Lightoller whispered gently.
"Thank you." I finished
the last of the warm beverage. It’s not as if I lost everyone. Harry made it.
My father just…he was too much of a caring person to take up one seat in any of
Titanic’s limited lifeboats—He thought someone else deserved the opportunity to
live. He deserved to live.
"Well, the lists seem to be
getting along…" Lightoller said, changing the subject as his voice trailed
off. He fixed his uniform cuffs. "…And in reality, I have nothing better
to talk about." He sighed. We’ve been stuck on a boat for God knows how
long, what else could we talk about? I pulled my coats closer to me yet again.
I stupidly left those blankets in the lifeboat and although new blankets were
being given out like free brandy, I don’t think I need them as much as someone
else. The coats are enough.
"Miss?" We all turned
and a stewardess who seemed to be collecting clothes stood there, her arms
full. "Would you like me to take those for you?" she asked, gesturing
to my coats. I shook my head. It’s the only thing I have left of my father—why
would I give it to this complete stranger?
"No, thank you."
"But, Miss—" She’s not
going to give up, I now realize. "Those must be soaking wet. I can get you
brand-new…"
"No!" I shouted at her,
so loud that all eyes were on me. No one has anything better to do than watch
me throw this stewardess overboard? I took in a deep breath, trying to calm
myself down. I rubbed my forehead, covering my face with my hands as Harry put
his hand on my back.
"Thank you, but no thank
you," he told her gently, beginning to rub circles into my back again.
"Miss Andrews is alright for the time being."
"Andrews?" She somewhat
gasped at that. "Andrews, isn’t she…?" Yes, I am the daughter of
Thomas Andrews. I suppose I’ll have that line attached to me forever, even if
and when I marry. Then again, I’m okay with that. But, no, I don’t want my
father’s coat taken away.
"Thank you, but no thank
you," Harry repeated, this time between clenched teeth.
"Of course," she
replied. As I could hear her walking away, I looked up from my hands to Harry
and Lightoller, who both looked to be in a state of shock that I practically
broke that woman’s neck. I held back my tears. I’m such a wreck. I need to get
off this boat.
"I was awful to her, wasn’t
I?" I asked them.
"Well…" Lightoller’s
voice trailed off, unsure of what to say. "…It was understandable…" I
glanced at Harry.
"Harry, tell me the
truth."
"You looked as if you were
ready to handcuff her to one of those funnels." He pointed to Carpathia’s
one funnel, before smiling. I managed a chuckle, thinking of grease ball Bruce
Ismay, who said he wanted to handcuff whoever broke that china to a pipe! Then
again, I suppose he’ll never know who did that now, will he? "She just
wanted to help," Harry tried to say after some moments of silence passed.
"Don’t stick up for that
stewardess," Lightoller said, sighing.
"She wasn’t taking his
coat," I told him simply. "She just…She just wasn’t." Harry
shook his head at me, brushing a few strands of hair out of my face. If I can’t
have my father, the least I can have is his wool coat.
"And she’s not going
to," he reassured me. "I’ll guard it with my life." I’m taking
him up on that promise. I managed a nod, my thoughts, for some reason, going
back to Ismay. Every time I hear the word handcuff, I think of him threatening
to chain someone to a pipe. What if he didn’t make it? Wait, why am I so
worried for him? He used to give me these scandalous glares and I felt so
uncomfortable around him, I never wanted to be left alone in the same room with
him—and yet, I’m worried?
And as much as Ismay creeped me
out and as much as I despised him for making everything with my father a
complete and utter battle when it involved Titanic, I almost hope he lived. If
Titanic sinking is really his fault, I want him to suffer. I may go to Hell for
saying that and I just may for even thinking it, but the rumor that he ordered
the Captain to speed up the ship sounds too much like Ismay to not be true.
Then, the Captain, so sick of Ismay harassing him, may have just done it to
shut the President of the White Star Line up. And we all had to pay for it.