A LIFE’S TRAGEDY
Chapter One

My driver pulled into Southampton. Swarms of people littered the streets. Every culture imaginable. Awful, I thought. Where were people of my class? First class. Royalty, railroad fortune heirs, new money, anything but this filth.

We parked. My personal valet pulled open my door. The sight was breathtaking. The RMS Titanic sitting there before me. I was in awe at her beauty.

"I don't see what all the fuss is about. It doesn't look any bigger the Mauretania." Rose, my splendid fiancée, spoke blatantly.

I walked up beside her. "You can be blasé about some things, Rose, but not about Titanic. She’s over a hundred feet longer than the Mauretania, and far more luxurious," I said. I turned to Rose’s mother. "Your daughter is far too difficult to impress, Ruth."

She laughed as we walked towards the ship. This ship was amazing.

"God himself could not sink this ship," I announced, delighted that the ship had reached my full expectations.

Mr. Spicer Lovejoy, my valet, tended to our luggage as we boarded the ship.

Rose put her arm through mine. Ruth walked in front of us. We were going back to America. Our wedding had already been announced. But what a splendid thing to have a final voyage before being tied down in marriage.

My father, Nathan Hockley, was a Pittsburgh steel man. I was always brought up in riches and wealth, but the Titanic surpassed my every desire.

I was shown to my private promenade deck. Splendid, I thought to myself as I looked out over the crowds on the lower deck.

"Would you be requiring anything, sir?" a steward asked from behind me. I waved a hand dismissively.

I picked up a bottle of fine champagne, pouring myself some in a crystal wineglass. Such finery. Each suite furnished completely. China dishes. Golden wood and sculpted detail. This truly was the ship of dreams. I was all the more proud of bringing this experience to the DeWitt Bukaters.

I reentered my stateroom. God, I thought to myself. Rose was putting up the hideous paintings I had bought for her. The artist was terrible, in my opinion.

I sipped the champagne, leaning against the doorframe. Rose was beautiful, only seventeen years old. But she had the body and mind of a woman. Flowing red hair, which was done up on her head. Her eyes sparkling with wonder over the horrible paintings.

I watched Trudy, her maid, help Rose place the paintings all over the room.

"God, those finger paintings certainly were a waste of money," I scoffed.

Trudy looked at me.

"The difference between Cal’s taste in art and mine is that I have some. They are fascinating," Rose said.

"Well, at least they were cheap." I smiled.

I turned to Lovejoy as he ordered my safe to be placed in the wardrobe.

I left Rose to finish decorating the sitting room. I handed a steward a five to take care of my things for me.

"J.J.!" I called down the hall to a familiar face.

John Jacob Astor and his wife, Madeline, were strolling arm-in-arm.

"Caledon!" he said, looking a bit surprised to see me. They stopped and waited for me.

"John, Madeline. How are you this afternoon?" I asked in a polite voice. He was the richest man on the ship. I acted as though we were old friends.

"Fine, Cal." Madeline smiled. She held her arm across her stomach, trying to hide her pregnancy.

"Where is your fiancée?" J.J. asked.

"Ah…you know Rose. Being melancholy, putting on a show." I laughed. "So, where are you headed?"

"We’re off to take a stroll on the deck. Why don’t you join us?" he asked.

I nodded. "Well, if you insist." I followed them to the lifts.

Madeline and J.J. continued to walk arm-in-arm. I walked at the same pace on the opposite side of John.

"Beautiful afternoon for sailing, don’t you think?" I asked, trying to make conversation.

"Oh, yes. Definitely." J.J. smiled. Madeline whispered that she needed to rest a spell, most likely because of her delicate condition. She sat on a wooden deck chair, John at her side. I stood leaning on the rail. The wind whipped through my black hair, bringing it down from where I had had it neatly combed.

I heard someone yelling. I looked towards the front of the ship.

"I’m the king of the world!" a young man from steerage shouted.

I laughed. "God, you’d think they could keep them in their places." I motioned to the young man.

John looked at me sternly. I quickly realized he didn’t feel the same way. "What I meant was, he could get injured. They shouldn’t allow passengers that close to the bow railings." I laughed nervously.

"Yes." John nodded suspiciously. I looked at the young man again. There was another man with him, but he was silent.

"I think Madeline needs to rest," John said, standing.

I nodded, walking with them back to the first class corridors. They disappeared into their stateroom.

I only hoped I hadn’t made a bad impression on him. I went back to my room to dress for lunch. The black jacket was the last thing I put on. I ran the comb through my hair and met Ruth in the hall.

"Rose is still dressing. I apologize," Ruth said. I crooked my elbow, allowing her to hold onto my arm.

"It’s fine. She’ll just meet us in the dining hall." I smiled.

Rose joined us only moments later, wearing a beautiful dress. I was lucky to have her. I knew this, but I never let it be known.

Our table was filled with rich members of society. Among those at our table were Thomas Andrews, the master shipbuilder, and Bruce Ismay, director of the White Star Line.

Molly Brown was also seated at our table, directly in front of me. I was not fond of this woman. I wouldn’t pretend to be. She was new money, as Ruth so eloquently put it.

All of her money was from her husband. She was loud and completely vulgar, in my opinion, at least.

Thomas and Bruce were discussing the Titanic’s building stages. I hardly listened. I sipped the delicious champagne.

"You know I don’t like that, Rose," Ruth was saying. I turned to them. They were seated to my right. Rose had lit a cigarette.

I reached over, pulling the cigarette from the polished wood holder. I extinguished it in the tray. "She knows," I said, a bit angry.

I ordered the lamb for both Rose and I. "You like lamb, don’t you, sweetpea?"

She nodded to me with a smile I knew had to be fake. I turned back to the table.

"You gonna carve her meat for her there, too, Cal?" Molly Brown asked.

I glared at her until she turned away.

"So, who thought up the name Titanic? Was it you, Bruce?" she asked, looking at Mr. Ismay.

Again I merely fell into thought, my mind swamped with my marriage ceremony. I thought about the gift I had bought Rose. I wondered when I should give it to her.

"Do you know of Dr. Freud? His ideas about the male preoccupation with size might be of particular interest to you, Mr. Ismay," Rose said, bringing me from my thoughts.

I looked at Thomas, who was attempting to suppress laughter. I didn’t find her rude behavior funny at all.

"If you’ll excuse me." Rose stood and walked away from the table.

I sat with my hands folded before me, embarrassed by her actions, but not so much as her mother.

"I do apologize," Ruth said to the group.

"She’s a pistol, Cal. Hope you can handle her," Molly said, smiling at me.

I thought about it a moment before answering. "Well, I may have to start minding what she reads from now on, won’t I, Mrs. Brown?" I asked.

She sat back in her chair, the first time during the entire lunch that she had been quiet.

I picked up my wineglass again, drinking a little. The group continued to talk about the ship. How wonderful it was. Yes, I had to agree with them. But enough was enough. It was a ship. Sure, it was great. But couldn’t they just leave it at that?

"Join me for some brandy?" Mr. Ismay asked, looking down at me.

I waved my hand, sending him away. I gently scooted my chair away from the table. I stood and walked out of the dining hall to find Rose.

I found her quickly, outside on the top deck, looking over to the bottom deck.

"Rose, that was a ridiculous display in there," I lectured her. "What were you thinking?"

"Cal, forget it. You wouldn’t understand," she said, and stormed off behind me.

I looked down at the deck. A man held a leather binder with paper in his lap. He stared up at me. He was dressed like the one from the bow. I wondered briefly if he was the same boy.

His staring quickly annoyed me. Had he been watching Rose, as well? I didn’t know. I turned and walked speedily after Rose.

"Rose, wait!" I said, a bit too loudly. I didn’t want to cause a stir. She ran to her room, slamming the white door in my face.

I knocked on the door. "Come on, Rose. Come out of there." I tried the brass doorknob. "Rose, I said come out of there!" I said, anger in my voice.

"No!" she shouted back.

What had made her this angry? I hadn’t the slightest idea. I knocked once more.

"Problems, sir?" someone asked from behind me. I turned to see Mr. Guggenheim.

"No, sir." I smiled.

"Splendid, then. Won’t you join me for a cigar and brandy?" he asked.

"Great," I agreed, and followed him down the corridor. I quickly glanced back at Rose’s door.

"What about the presidential campaigns? Aren’t they just dreadful these days?" Mr. Guggenheim said to our small group of men in the smoking room.

A waiter leaned down and lit my expensive Cuban cigar. I breathed in the smoke. These conversations really did bore me, but this was the crowd I belonged in. So, I remained very sociable.

A steward rushed over to our table. "Mr. Hockley. Mr. Hockley. I was sent to find you. You have to come with me," he was saying.

I stood. Colonel Gracie stood, as well. Spicer Lovejoy looked from me back to the steward.

"Well, what is it?" I asked.

"It’s Miss DeWitt Bukater. She’s been attacked." He sounded frantic. Mr. Lovejoy now stood.

I followed the steward to the deck, Lovejoy and the colonel behind us. When we arrived at the stern, I couldn’t believe my eyes. There was the man from steerage standing beside the Master-at-Arms.

Chapter Two
Stories