SHIP OF DREAMS
Chapter Four

Barely able to sleep, Anne woke with the sun. Fortunately, Megan was already up and about on her rounds. After bringing Anne morning tea, Megan helped her dress. Following another conversation with Megan, in which Megan did most if not all of the talking, and Anne patiently listened, the two ladies parted ways and continued about their routines.

Anne skipped breakfast; the toast and apple Megan had brought had been enough for her. She had never had a very large appetite, and her happiness only reduced her appetite even further.

After making her way through various corridors and up several stairways, Anne found herself on one of the top decks. She couldn’t recall the name of it; honestly, she didn’t know the name of it. However, she soon realized it was the boat deck. Lifeboats lined the length of the ship. She walked to a point in between the boats so she could stand at the railing and watch the ocean.

"Good morning." Anne turned to see Murdoch standing behind her, hands clasped behind his back, as he’d stood the previous night. "Did you sleep well?"

"I suppose." Anne smiled. "This is only my second time on a ship; I’m afraid I’m not entirely accustomed to it yet."

"It’s not difficult." Murdoch walked up to stand alongside her.

"Well, if I spent my life on the sea, I suppose it would be quite easy." Anne laughed, and remembered her question. "Mr. Murdoch, I never asked you your rank. It just occurred to me last night."

"Oh." Murdoch dropped his gaze for a moment or two, then stared straight out to sea. "First Officer William McMaster Murdoch."

"Is that the highest?" Anne asked, suddenly a bit frightened and uneasy.

"No." Murdoch lowered his gaze again. "Chief Officer Henry Wilde is the highest ranking officer, aside from Captain Smith, of course." He sighed softly.

My heavens, what have I done? First Officer? Of course, he had to be first, not second or third. Suddenly, Anne noticed the slightly melancholic expression in Murdoch’s eyes, even though he wasn’t looking at her.

"Mr. Murdoch?" Anne asked, then, "It is all right if I call you Mr. Murdoch?"

"Yes, of course." Murdoch faintly smiled.

"You weren’t supposed to be a higher ranking officer, were you?" Anne inquired, and knew she’d hit the nail on the head when his eyes quickly shot up and over to her. "Oh."

"I come from a long line of seafaring men. It’s a rule that at least one man per generation in my family finds a trade ashore, because death at sea is such a risk. I’ve lost two cousins, three uncles, and an aunt. The sea is...part of my life. I’ve worked on sailing vessels; I’ve served aboard Medic, Runic, Arabic, Adriatic, Oceanic, and Olympic. They’re all White Star Line ships. You can tell because of the ic ending. You know, I thought I’d be Chief Officer for the past year...well, almost." Murdoch removed his cap for a moment, running a strong hand through thick brown hair as he sighed. He flopped it back on his head and straightened it, then looked up at Anne. When he did, he smiled a faintly sad smile. "I’m sorry. Here I am rambling on..."

"Oh, no. It’s quite all right." Anne smiled gently, shaking her head. He has a nice accent. What? Shut up, Anne. Shut up. First Officer, remember? And he’ll probably be Chief Officer soon enough! "I don’t mind."

"Well, you should learn to mind something." Murdoch grinned, his mood lightening. "Do they teach you only to obey in finishing school?"

"Yes, but whether or not one chooses to adhere to that policy is an entirely different matter." Anne grinned.

"I have the feeling that the way you act outside is entirely different from what you think inside," Murdoch said.

"Maybe." Anne turned and walked past Murdoch. She sharply turned her head to glance back, and in that moment, the sunlight shone off of raven-black locks and emerald green eyes. Her porcelain skin of peaches and cream—quite distinguishable from the strawberries and cream complexions of the Englishwomen—seemed to glow.

"Have you had breakfast?" Murdoch asked.

"Hmm. Yes," Anne said, slightly tilting her head at an angle. She laughed when Murdoch raised a brow at her. "Well, I had toast and an apple over the Atlantic Daily Bulletin. I wasn’t very hungry; I never eat much in the morning."

"From what I’ve seen, you don’t eat much at all." Murdoch smiled. "Would you care to have tea with me?"

"I’m...sorry?" Anne asked. Did he just ask me to tea? Did he, First Officer, ask me, a first-class passenger who doesn’t even deserve the title?

"Tea. Would you like some?" Murdoch asked, trying to hide an amused smile, but failing miserably.

"Yes. Thank you," Anne blurted, then shook her head. "I mean, no! I mean, thank you for asking, but really, I can’t."

"And why can’t you?" Murdoch inquired.

"I have matters to attend to," Anne replied rather matter-of-factly.

"Oh?" Murdoch asked. He looked down at the girl, whose eyes were stolidly fixed on the deck below. Her fingers were running over the smooth silver of her locket. Suddenly, he felt rather bold. "Do they include running from your fears the rest of your life?" He had already braced himself for the angry look he was sure would follow.

"Excuse me?" Anne hotly asked. Her eyes were intensely green, and Murdoch wondered if she didn’t have a bit of Irish or Scottish blood in her. Perfectly manicured fingernails dug into her palms, almost to the point of perforating her flesh. "How dare you speak to me in that manner! You don’t know me."

"That’s right, I don’t," Murdoch replied. He crossed his arms over his broad chest. "You won’t tell me."

"Well, you never asked," Anne sputtered, a bit taken aback by her lack of serenity and grace. Although, thinking back to last night, this is nothing.

"You didn’t exactly seem in a mood last night to answer me without crying," Murdoch honestly pointed out. At this, he led her to the railing where he was supposed to be on watch. "Besides, I think I deserve to hear your story. I told you my boring tale."

"I suppose you’re right." Anne sighed, adding, "And your story wasn’t boring." She paused for a moment, as though collecting her thoughts...or perhaps trying to forget. She looked out to sea, watching the waves in the distance and the blue-black water below. "My father and mother were very wealthy. And very much in love. They were happy together, and they loved me. My world revolved around them. And then...my world slowly began to break apart.

"When I was six, my mother died of pneumonia. My father was heartbroken, and his health began to steadily decline. At my mother’s funeral, he met a woman near his age. She had a daughter, and her marriage was falling apart. Father didn’t know that at the time. He thought she was single. But that didn’t matter; she told him her husband had died recently, and they were able to comfort each other.

"They married a year following Mother’s death; I think she only wanted his money. Father was still in love with Mother. I think he just wanted me to have a mother figure. He died of depression and heart failure a year later. I was sent to England by my stepmother a year following his death. She’d only endured me for even that long so she didn’t seem quite the cruel woman she was. But I never heard an endearment or kind word from her, not once. Even with company she found ways to ridicule me, and the others either laughed or pretended not to hear. Or else she said it so sweetly that I was the only one who understood her true meaning.

"In less than two years, I lost my entire family, and I was thrust into surroundings so different from what I’d been accustomed to. For the past fourteen years of my life, I’ve lived at Barclay Academy. The only reason I wasn’t deemed a scholarship girl was because my stepmother paid for my tuition...with my inheritance.

"When I graduated, my stepmother sent me the remainder of what I’d been left. But even I could tell that it was less than what I really should have had, even after nine years of schooling. I knew she kept some of it, and I knew she had sold most, if not all, of our furnishings and memories.

"For the past five years, I’ve tutored at Barclay. So, while every other girl was being courted and planning her marriage, I was stuck in that prison, tutoring wealthy, haughty girls to grow up just like my stepmother.

"When I received the letter from the Lewis family, I knew it was my chance to escape Barclay, and my stepmother, for good. I finally had a reason to leave Barclay. I suppose I could have left at any time I pleased, and I probably should have. My only friend during those agonizing years was Miss Temple, my tutor as a child, and later my colleague.

"And so, here I am, having spent a great deal of the remnants of my inheritance on a first-class ticket. I should have purchased a second-class ticket; it would have not only been cheaper, but also aided me in avoiding my stepmother and her daughter. Besides, now I appear to have more money than I really do. But I guess...I guess I just wanted to know what it was like again, to feel wealthy and important once more. I suppose that’s just not what was meant to be, though."

Murdoch was silent for a while after Anne finished speaking. He knew she was growing more and more uncomfortable by the second, with the heavy silence like a barrier between them. But he was thinking, contemplating. She had been through so much. The death of her mother, the death of her father. She had been ignored by her stepmother at home, and then ignored by her schoolmates at school. She hadn’t exactly led an easy life. No wonder she always seems so nervous, so insecure.

"I’m sorry I rambled." Anne shook her head. "Sometimes I talk too much. It’s one of my many faults, including spilling wine all over myself, running into officers, crying publicly, arguing with people, and making public spectacles of myself in general."

"Well, then, I suppose you’ll be making the ship sink next, eh?" Murdoch joked, trying to be light when his heart felt heavy.

"Probably." Anne nodded. "Leave it to me to sink an unsinkable ship."

"Well, now that we have both regaled each other with our rather exciting and splendid lives, shall we have tea?" Murdoch asked again, but quickly decided he knew what her answer would be. "Sit here." He gently pushed her down onto the top step of a staircase not far off. "I’ll be right back."

"But—" Anne was cut off with a serious look from Murdoch. She sighed as he turned and left. Turning around again, she sat down and slid her feet and knees together and smoothed her dress. Then, she leaned against the side of the stairs in a highly unladylike fashion, feeling the cool metal against her warm skin.

"I said he was proper, formal, and dull, but I may have forgotten to mention that he’s also as stubborn as a little child when he wants to be." Anne turned to see Moody stifle a yawn behind her.

"What a pleasant surprise! Are you getting off soon?" Anne asked, rising from her seat on the cold steps. She brushed some stray flecks of dirt from her dress.

"Actually, not until noon." Moody sighed. "And then I’ll be back at it from four to five, and then eight to twelve again."

"You must not sleep much, then." Anne tilted her head to the side a few degrees.

"Sleep? I’m afraid I’ve never heard of it; it’s not in my vocabulary." Moody grinned, bringing a laugh from Anne. "How are you this fine morning?" Moody’s tone indicated that he had asked out of more than politeness.

"Better, thank you." Anne smiled genuinely. "Mr. Murdoch is a fine man."

"Yes. He’s a good man to have at sea, and he’s a fine gentleman. I’m glad you two have met." Moody nodded, though his mischievous grin and sparkling eyes caused Anne to wonder if he hadn’t meant something more. He took a few long, lackadaisical steps past her, leaning lazily over the railing. He heard Anne’s heels against the deck as she followed him, clasping her hands before her and resting her elbows on the railing. "I suppose you won’t be joining us on the return trip, then?"

"Most likely not. I expect to be with the Lewises for quite a few years, if they’ll keep me." Anne sighed, feeling trapped. What’s my life coming to? I’ll grow up an unmarried spinster, like Miss Temple! Good heavens! Oh. Wait. I already am grown up. Hmm. I have the feeling that my life will last all of ten seconds when I die...if your life truly does flash before your eyes.

"I still don’t understand it. Why is a beautiful woman like yourself on the grandest ship in the world...heading to become a governess to a bunch of spoiled children?" Moody asked. "Pardon my...manners."

"Or lack thereof." Murdoch suddenly appeared from, it seemed, thin air. He was holding a saucer in each hand, a cup of tea steadily resting on top. He saw Anne slightly tilt her head to the side again, and handed her a cup.

"Thank you." She gratefully took the warm saucer, wrapping her fingers around the saucer and cup. I certainly would have spilled the tea. Mayhap years of life at sea makes one an expert at balance. She inhaled the sweet fragrance; heavens, she definitely loved her tea. She took a sip. "You made it just the way I like it! How did you know?"

"I watched you last night," Murdoch stated, then blushed slightly. Think before you speak, Will. Think before you speak. He quickly took a sip of his tea.

"Mr. Moody…er…James was asking me why I chose to be a governess." Anne indicated the junior officer with a nod of her head.

"Did it ever occur to you that Miss Stewart’s business is hers alone?" Murdoch looked at Moody over the rim of his teacup.

"You’re just saying that because you know," Moody replied.

"Gentlemen," Anne warned, glaring them both into an apologetic submission. She turned to Moody with a cheerful smile. "Sometimes...God has different plans. Breeding isn’t everything. I just wasn’t meant to be like the other high society women."

"But you belong there; you deserve it," Murdoch said, setting his cup on its saucer again with a soft tink. His blush, which had almost completely disappeared, now deepened as Anne glanced over at him with a soft smile.

"Hmm. I don’t know that I deserve it." Anne slyly grinned. "I wasn’t exactly an angel at the Academy all the time."

"I find that hard to believe," Moody teased, challenging her with his eyes.

"Well," Anne began, accepting the challenge. "There was the time that I tripped Rebecca during the lunch period. Rebecca was an extremely influential girl. She landed face first in her soup. And it wasn’t cold soup, either, mind you."

"You could have accidentally tripped her, or she could have slipped on something else," Moody said. Is that the best you’ve got?

"Fine. There was the time I followed Rebecca out to the lake one night. She went swimming...in nothing but her unmentionables. I stole her clothes and placed them on the headmistress’ desk. That was quite the scandal. Especially when everyone learned that she hadn’t gone swimming alone. Of course, I once dumped ashes from the fireplace in her hair. That was almost an accident." Anne paused, suppressing a smile as Murdoch’s eyes grew wider and wider as she regaled them with her pranks. "I think that’s the worst I ever did."

"You really didn’t like this Rebecca girl, did you?" Moody teased.

"She was almost as cruel as my stepmother." Anne rolled her eyes, taking a short sip of her tea. "And that’s fairly cruel."

"All right, Moody. That’s enough. I’ll not have you revealing next that Miss Stewart is a murderess." Murdoch nodded to indicate that Moody should leave.

"Aye, sir." Moody nodded with a grin for Anne. He turned on his heel and retreated into the enclosed bridge from the starboard side.

Anne watched Moody disappear, then turned to glare at Murdoch. What’s gotten into him? His mood changes as often as the weather! However, Murdoch seemed deep in thought at the moment, and didn’t glance her way. Anne was rather relieved; she wasn’t exactly behaving as a finished woman should.

Murdoch sipped his tea. Blimey! She was the most peculiar thing he’d ever met! She’d be laughing and social one moment, and then sobbing hysterically the next. And when she wasn’t doing either of those, she was reminiscing or snickering as she recalled the various less-than-becoming feats she’d accomplished at Barclay. He shook his head slightly, but enough that Anne caught the movement and looked at him oddly.

"Is something the matter, sir?" Anne politely asked.

"Nothing at all," Murdoch replied, seeming rather distant. However, he glanced over at her this time, and noticed confusion in her eyes. He had spoken with Moody earlier that morning, and the younger man’s words continually rang in his head--Remember, Will. She’s not Ada. Don’t forget that. He offered a small smile that was happier than he felt, but it seemed to alleviate Anne’s worry.

"I’d better leave," Anne said, her eyes moving to the dark land mass ahead of them, slowly growing larger and larger. "I don’t want to keep you from your duties, and we’ll be at Queenstown soon enough. Thank you for the tea and the conversation, Mr. Murdoch." Anne smiled, then offered to take Murdoch’s cup to the kitchen, along with her own. When they finished arguing over who should and should not take the cups and saucers to the kitchen, it was decided that they’d both walk there together. "Mr. Murdoch, would you tell me if something was bothering you?" Anne regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth. Murdoch’s eyes shot straight to hers, and they stopped in their tracks for a few seconds. "Never mind."

"No. What is it?" Murdoch asked, not moving.

"Well...it’s just that you seem preoccupied with something, perhaps even troubled by something. I was wondering if there was anything I could do to help."

"I shall remember your offer for later." Murdoch tapped his temple with his index and middle fingers. "But for now, Miss Stewart, I simply enjoy being in your company." At this, both blushed, and neither looked at the other for the longest time as they continued walking.

Anne sighed inwardly. Murdoch was one of the most perplexing men she’d ever met. Of course, she hadn’t met that many. Courting had been strictly forbidden at Barclay, for both students and employees. God forbid it hinder my career! Besides, she hadn’t been interested in the ones who were interested in her. It was clear there was only one thing on their minds, and she was not about to be seen with the likes of them. They were all too arrogant, too stupid. She wanted her ideal husband to have an IQ over ten, if that was possible.

One hand reached up to her locket instinctively; long, slender fingers played with the cool metal at her throat. Soft skin rubbed over the engraved initials there--EAS. It had been Anne’s for as long as she could remember; her parents had given it to her at birth. She never removed her beloved necklace. It was the only constant in her life, aside from the setting and rising of the sun. What a pathetic life.

Murdoch noticed her hand raise from her side to her throat; without looking, he knew what she was doing. Oh, dear, he had upset her. He pretended not to notice. Quick, Will. Think of something to say. Anything. Faster...faster! "So, what do you enjoy, aside from playing with your necklace?"

"Oh, my locket. Sorry. I have been touching it constantly, haven’t I?" Anne let her hand drop from the jewelry. "My parents gave it to me; I’ve had it forever." She reached up to unclasp it from her neck, and opened the small heart-shaped necklace to reveal two photographs, small but still clear. "My mother and father." The black and white photos were a bit worn from age, but Murdoch could still see the family resemblances...Anne had her father’s dark hair and her mother’s small but sophisticated looking nose. Cheekbones, eye shapes, jaws...Anne was a cut-and-paste model of her parents’ best attributes, and they all fit together rather nicely. "I read a lot when I was at Barclay. The Academy had a huge library, and I spent many hours there. I also enjoy dancing, but I never really danced at the balls or parties. What about you?"

"There really isn’t much time for hobbies aboard a ship, especially as an officer." Murdoch sighed. He slightly shrugged two large, broad shoulders. He didn’t seem to care if it was unbecoming, and neither did Anne. Suddenly, he wondered what it would have been like if he had been the one to pick up a trade ashore. Would he have more hobbies? Would he have, perhaps, married Ada? No, it was doubtful. Ada deserved more than what Murdoch could have offered her. She was a woman meant for balls and parties and social gatherings, bred for perfection and grace. He...well, he was the opposite. He was quiet and sometimes shy; he was made for life at sea...the discipline, the strength, the adventure...Ada was the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on. Her midnight-black hair shone in the sun; her green eyes were always alight with gossip and joy. He wasn’t the most handsome fellow in the world. In fact, he thought himself rather plain. But Ada was known for courting only the most distinguished and attractive men, so there must have been something in William McMaster Murdoch that caught her eye.

"I suppose not," Anne softly whispered, suddenly feeling awkward.

"I look at the constellations, sometimes. Some of them have quite interesting stories," Murdoch suddenly said, then added, "you have to learn them when you’re a sailor."

"I’m afraid I don’t know any." Anne shook her head. "Except for maybe the Big Dipper and Orion. Oh, and Cassiopeia. When I was in Barclay, I looked out my window often at night. We were so deep into the country...the sky was pitch-black on clear nights, and the stars were like...diamonds. There were so many of them."

Murdoch looked over at Anne. She had a wistful look in her eyes, and he didn’t disturb her. They continued into the kitchen in silence; Murdoch stayed to watch Anne rinse the cups. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, which was ramrod straight. When she turned, it was evident that she hadn’t expected him to still be there. Her hand rose to her throat in surprise, and she closed her eyes as though frightened.

"It’s all right." Anne laughed when Murdoch apologized. "I thought you had left."

"I-I was wondering..." Murdoch’s voice trailed off, and his gaze shifted nervously to the ground. His cap, which he had been holding in his left hand, was now held between two rather shaky hands. Just say it! My God man, you’re pathetic! "I was wondering, if perhaps, you’d maybe...if you’d join me for dinner tonight. With the crew."

"I’d very much enjoy it, sir." Anne cordially accepted with a nod.

"Right, then. Good. I’ll...stop by your stateroom later," Murdoch quickly said, barely stopping to breathe in-between words. "I...have to go check the mail room."

"Splendid," Anne said, but Murdoch had already gone. She stared as the door swinging closed, and a small smile crossed her face. Had he been blushing? No. Stop it, Anne. It was your imagination. Got it? I-M-A-G-I-N-A-T-I-O-N. So, just drop it.

Chapter Five
Stories