SHIP OF DREAMS
Chapter Twenty
"Miss Stewart?" Mr.
Welkins gently shook Anne's shoulder. "Miss Stewart, we've arrived in
Dalbeattie. We're at the hotel."
"What?" Anne's eyes
flew open. He had said almost the exact same thing when they'd arrived in Southampton,
and for a moment, she thought that was where she was. However, a glance around
told her they were nowhere near Southampton.
"I'll take your things
inside. Mr. Carter says you're to let him know when you wish to return to
Southampton, and I'll come for you," Mr. Welkins said, as he carried
Anne's few suitcases into the hotel.
A few minutes later, Anne signed
into the hotel. As the receptionist spoke to her in the same warm, rolling
accent Murdoch had spoken with, she felt her heart squeeze and constrict.
*****
Anne flopped down on the small
bed. Her small frame, a bit emaciated from her depression, bounced a few times
as the springs squeaked in the mattress. She sighed. Her heart pounded. He had
been born there. He had been raised and schooled there. And his family was a
short distance away. Her stomach flip-flopped at the thought, and Anne decided
sleep would do her good. I’ll visit them tomorrow. Or perhaps I’ll explore.
I’m not even hungry anymore. Exhausted from her travels, Anne fell asleep, still
fully clothed atop the blankets, her suitcases at the foot of her bed.
*****
"G’mornin’, Miss
Stewart." The receptionist nodded kindly as Anne descended the stairs to
the main lobby.
"Good morning," Anne
replied with a nod of acknowledgment. Suddenly, an idea popped into her head.
She smoothed her skirts and scanned the lobby before approaching the
receptionist. "Excuse me. I’ve never been here before. Could you tell me
where the tavern is?"
"Which tavern?" the
receptionist asked with a slight smile. "There are a few."
"Oh..." Anne’s voice
trailed off. She recalled a conversation she had had with Murdoch that night in
the third-class general room. There’s a little tavern in Dalbeattie; my
father and I used to go there often. I think you’d enjoy their coffee; you
could use the caffeine in the mornings. She had laughed over the hubbub and
teasingly shook her head. Just because I don’t relish waking every morning
at some ungodly hour does not mean I need caffeine! "Well, do you know
of the Murdoch family?"
"Do I know of the
Murdochs?" the receptionist asked, as though she were simple-minded.
"Of course! Terrible thing, what happened to Will..."
"Well, could you tell me
which tavern he and his father frequented?" Anne asked as she fought to
swallow the rising lump in her throat.
The receptionist tilted his head
slightly and studied her. Suddenly, he seemed to realize something.
"Ah…well…that’s an easy one. Just go down the street two blocks and take a
left. Can’t miss it."
"Thank you." Anne
smiled faintly. She walked out of the hotel and began the walk to the unnamed
tavern. As she slowly made her way down the sidewalk, she fingered the wedding
band on her locket chain. With her other hand, she reached deep into her coat
pocket to touch the pocket watch, and seemed to derive strength from both
pieces.
*****
The heavy wooden door swung open
with a slight squeak. Anne stepped inside the tavern, which was slightly smoky
and smelled of cigars and beer. As her eyes adjusted to the dim, yellow light,
Anne could see ten or so tables and a bar, behind which stood a man. Three
patrons sat at the bar, chatting with the bartender, and all eyes turned to her
as she entered.
"Afternoon." the
bartender nodded. He glanced at Anne sideways. "Can I help you with
somethin’?"
"I-I was just...no, thank
you," Anne stuttered. She shook her head, and the bartender nodded. The
customers slowly turned their attention back to their conversation, and Anne
began to wander around the tavern. Her gaze fixed on a collage of pictures on one
of the walls, and she studied each photograph pinned on the board.
"They’re all citizens,"
the bartender called over to Anne, who turned at the sound of his voice. He
pointed to the collage. "They’ve all made some sort of achievement."
Is becoming the Titanic’s
first officer an achievement? Anne scanned the collage more fervently as she heard a squeaky
hinge to her left. Suddenly, her hand flew to her mouth and she gasped. Slowly
falling into a nearby chair, her eyes remained glued to the picture.
"Are you all right?" a
voice asked from behind her. An elderly man stepped in front of her. "You
look pale."
"I-I just...I recognized one
of the men."
"Which one?"
Anne pointed to the photograph of
two men.
"Aye. Handsome, isn’t
he?"
"Very."
"How did you know him?"
"The Titanic. I didn’t know
him long, but..."
"You’re Anne Stewart."
"Y-yes, sir. How did you
know?"
"Letters. I’m Samuel
Murdoch. The man on the left is myself. The man on the right is my fourth
oldest son, Will."