THE SHIP OF DREAMS
Chapter Eleven

Everyone woke up around three o’clock, and Jack was exceptionally groggy compared to the girls, who acted as though they had never slept at all. He started coughing again when he stood up, but this time he could feel his chest tightening a little. "You sound lovely," Anastasia told him, with a hint of sarcasm in her voice, once he recovered from the bout and was able to breathe properly again.

"Maybe you shouldn’t go tonight," Mac suggested. "You really do sound sick, Papa."

"It’s just a cold, honey," Jack insisted. "I’ll survive." He planted a kiss on the top of her head. Deep down, however, he was starting to feel scared. He refused to show this in front of the girls, because the last thing he wanted was to frighten them as well.

The group managed to finish getting ready before heading out of the room to go to the saloon. Perhaps a strong mug of chamomile tea would help, Jack thought. At least I am not feeling dizzy yet. The saloon, as usual, was fairly crowded when they entered, and Jack heard Mac let out an excited squeal. "Ooh, Daddy, there is going to be a party tonight here! Can we go? Can we please?" she begged, tugging on his hand anxiously. Jack chuckled.

"Of course we can, if we get back from first class in time."

"It says from eight o’clock to two o’clock AM, so I am certain we will be able to go," Anastasia breathed.

"We’ll see," Jack replied, as they made their way over to a table. They were starting to develop a routine on the ship at this point. Get up at nine o’clock in the morning, spend an hour or so in the recreation area, go to the saloon for luncheon, take about an hour or so nap, come out again, go back to the recreation area, go to dinner, and then back to the cabin again after a cup of tea for bed.

Jack broke into a fit of coughing again, and there was a waitress now, who came over and clucked her tongue. "Perhaps some tea for that cough?" she asked, as she pulled out her notepad and pen. Mac watched worriedly and glanced at Anastasia, who shrugged.

"What would you suggest?" Jack croaked.

"I would suggest a cup of green tea or chamomile, whichever you prefer," the waitress told him.

"I think I’ll take a cup of green tea. Thank you," Jack told her, and she took Mac and Anastasia’s orders before leaving.

"Daddy, how much longer until we get to New York?" Mac asked, leaning her head on her father’s arm. She loved the way his shirt smelled--a mixture of charcoal and cinnamon. She did love the Titanic, but being on a ship for such a long time was a bit tiresome. She missed dry land more than anything now. She remembered the frequent trips she took with the imperial family on the Standart. The Standart was their yacht, and was not nearly as big as the Titanic, but it still was very lovely indeed. She remembered roller skating with the grand duchesses on the deck, and playing with Maria’s kittens--and keeping them far away from her father, who was very allergic--that she kept in a tiny basket. She also had been allowed to dance with the handsome officers. They had so much fun during those times. Mac felt sad when she heard Maria’s laughter in her head, and even when Olga and Tatiana threw her in closets and she was often not found for three hours.

"Not for at least another two weeks, pumpkin. I know you want to get there, sweetheart."

Mac nodded. "Being on a ship all the time is kind of boring."

The waitress brought over their tea, and then their usual bread, crackers, and cheese. "I know." Jack blew on his tea before taking a small sip of it. It felt wonderful sliding down his raw throat, and it warmed his stomach instantly. Almost at the speed of light, he felt his daughter place a hand against his forehead, checking for a fever.

"You’re not hot, at least," Mac sighed.

"Well, that’s good." Jack chuckled. "Honey, I’ll be fine. All right?" He touched her hand and gave her a loving smile.

Mac raised an eyebrow. "I guess so, but I don’t want you fainting again like you did before."

Jack sighed. He certainly did not like to remember that. The first time he had gotten sick, very sick, he had been at one of the imperial balls, and had fainted right in the middle of the dance floor. When he had come to, he was staring right into the Tsar’s concerned eyes, and was put straight to bed. He smiled to himself when he remembered Alexei seeing him ill for the first time. It had taken quite a bit to convince the Tsarevich that his guard would be all right again. The first few weeks were very scary for everyone, thinking that he was going to die, but thankfully, he pulled through.

"I remember I was always called dearie." Mac giggled. "They used to say ‘he’ll be all right, dearie‘."

Anastasia giggled, too. "Mama always called you dearie or lovely," she pointed out, and Jack laughed.

"I didn’t mind it as much when she did it," Mac admitted. "It was kind of nice. She called me snowbell once."

"Did she, now?" Jack ruffled his daughter’s hair with a smile. He was very pleased that Alexandra had taken his daughter in as her own, for the most part. She had been the mother Mac never had, and that was one thing he missed also about life at the palace.

"Yeah."

"My older sisters thought you were a queer, unresponsive little thing when they first saw you. Then again, you were so scared that it was understandable."

Jack leaned back in his chair with his cup of tea in his hand and listened to their conversation. He had his own thoughts whirling around in his head, wondering how the dinner in first class was going to go that evening. He did wish that Rose was not engaged, for he had not seen anyone as beautiful, except for Alyiah, of course. She was sweet, she was funny…he sighed softly.

"Do you remember when your mother had those guests in her reception room?" Mac whispered. "And how we made tons of noise, jumping up and down, playing your record player, and bouncing on the beds?"

Anastasia giggled. "Yes. Yes, I do. We were in such trouble!"

Jack laughed. "I think everyone steered clear when they saw the two of you together and approaching," he told Anastasia with a grin.

"And the first time I punched you right in the nose." Mac snickered. "You had me so angry the first week I was with living there…you kept tormenting me, and I’d had enough…"

"And you knocked some sense into me," Anastasia replied. "I’ve learned since then not to upset you again…" That was true. Anastasia had been so shocked by Mac’s blunt response that she had run off in complete embarrassment, not uttering a sound. Actually, as Mac recalled, Anastasia rarely cried when hurt or humiliated. She usually stood still and her face grew slightly red, and her eyes narrowed, her lips tightening into a thin line, but not a single tear would be shed. It was remarkable, really. And there were several times when Mac was certain Anastasia would break down, but it hardly ever happened.

Jack shook his head. It was wonderful to hear the girls recounting memories, though it made him feel slightly sad. He would never see the Tsar’s village again. He enjoyed walking around with Alexei or one of the girls, even when he was off-duty. He loved to sketch the imperial children acting like children, having a good time, not acting stiff and formal, though Jack did have a few sketches of the grand duchesses in uniform and of Alexei while he and the Tsar walked up and down inspecting the lines of soldiers.

"Luckily, you did bring one of your tuxedos," Mac whispered to her father.

He smiled. "Who would have guessed I’d be needing it here?" he asked her in amusement. "Mac, honey, you can borrow one of Ana’s dresses, I’m sure…"

Anastasia looked up. "Oh, yes. Of course she can…she’s not much shorter than I am…"

Mac couldn’t help feeling nervous butterflies in her stomach as she thought about going into the first class section for the first time. Oh, she’d had experience with upperclassmen, but they had been more like family to her, and these people she’d never met before in her entire life! Plus, she knew that Rose had a daughter of her own, and she wondered what the daughter was like, whether they would get along at all. If not, it would be a very quiet affair indeed.

After tea, Jack brought the girls to the recreation area, where they found Fabrizio chatting with a beautiful blonde woman on one of the benches. The woman was not speaking, but she was smiling and nodding politely, giggling every so often. Mac saw Tommy gazing out at the ocean and puffing on his usual cigarette, his bowl hat askew.

"Hallo, Jack!" Fabrizio greeted them when they approached. "This is Helga Dahl," he introduced the woman, who smiled at the girls and waved. She spoke in a language that Mac did not understand, and she looked to Fabrizio for an explanation. Mac only spoke a bit of Russian and fluent French, having attended lessons with the Grand Duchesses. She had gotten along quite well with Pierre Galliard, the tutor at the palace. "Ah, she speaks Norwegian," Fabrizio told Mac, noticing her confusion. "Very little English…"

"Norwegian?" Anastasia piped, her bright blue eyes widening. "What did she say?"

"I have no idea," Fabrizio whispered, making Anastasia giggle.

"Does she know what you’re saying?"

"Probably not."

Jack snickered, folding his arms as a gust of icy wind blew past from the ocean. "Well, it is my pleasure all the same." Jack chuckled, shaking Helga’s hand firmly. Helga made a slight oof sound and rubbed her hands together. "Yes, my hands are probably cold." Jack laughed. Tommy eventually came over to them, his cigarette still in his mouth.

"So, are ya goin’ to the party tonight?" he asked Jack curiously. "I heard ya had a date…"

Jack blushed several shades of crimson with embarrassment. "Well, it is not exactly a date…"

"Oh, yes, it is," Mac teased.

"Ahem." Jack cleared his throat and narrowed his eyes at her.

"Well, did she ask you?" Fabrizio wanted to know, giving Jack a teasing grin.

"Well, not directly…but she gave her fiancé the idea," Jack replied honestly. "I’m not really sure that counts as a date…"

"Well, if she had influence in the situation, it is…"

"All right. Let’s move to a new topic, if you please," Jack grumbled. "I’m starting to get a headache…" He sat down on one of the benches and the girls sat down with him, not really doing anything in particular. Anastasia was gazing blankly ahead and Mac was looking down at her feet, which weren’t quite touching the deck.

"You never answered my question about the party." Tommy broke the awkward silence, leaning over the back of the bench.

"Oh, we’re going," Jack told him. "Not sure what time, but we’ll certainly be there."

"What time is the dinner?"

"Seven thirty." Jack checked his watch. "Which gives us about an hour and a half of leisure time before we have to get ourselves ready." He looked at the girls. "Speaking of which, we need to set a few ground rules…"

Anastasia gave Jack a horrified look, as though he would even think she did not know how to behave at elegant dinners. She grimaced as Mac nudged her on the arm, and she nodded reluctantly.

"In this case, you two, only speak when spoken to, no rash comments, either, and no hiding under the table," he warned Anastasia with a raised eyebrow. She grinned. Several times, she had purposely hidden beneath the table at formal dinners, and was escorted out by her father more often than not. Only once had she gotten away before anyone caught her, but that was rare.

"We’ll be good," Mac promised. "You don’t have to worry about us…"

"I hope I won’t," Jack admitted.

For the next hour or so, Mac and Anastasia found ways to amuse themselves, grateful when Cora and her father came up to get some fresh air. The girls played Ring Around the Rosie with Cora, who enjoyed it thoroughly and shrieked every time they fell down. Anastasia also did impressions for her, and had both girls and even the adults laughing so hard their sides were aching. Anastasia certainly knew how to be the comic relief. When it was time to head back and get ready for dinner, Mac almost felt sick to her stomach as she said good-bye to Cora and the others, following Anastasia and her father back down to their cabin. Anastasia helped Mac choose a gown to wear…she had three formal gowns that her mother had insisted she take. "You never know when one might need to dress appropriately," Alexandra had told her daughter earlier that week, and eventually decided on a beautiful, silky, sky-bright purple gown with silver sequins. Jack pulled out his tuxedo, which had amazingly stayed neat and tidy in the suitcase, and spread it out on his bed. Anastasia pulled out her peach and white gown with a long purple sash, and two posture corsets.

"Must I wear that?" Mac asked, her nose wrinkling in disgust. The last time she had worn a posture corset, she could hardly breath for a day, as her ribs had been so bruised by the whalebone.

"Yes. You must," Anastasia told her. "The gown will not look right without it." She turned to Jack, who was separating each piece to put on. "Shall I help her?" she asked, for the Grand Duchesses always dressed themselves and knew how to put on and tie corsets. Mac looked at her father, who nodded and motioned for them to go into the bathroom and change. Anastasia brought Mac inside, and the two girls stood facing each other, grinning, as they started to get out of their play clothes. "You can tie my corset and I’ll tie yours," Anastasia told Mac, seriously, as she stepped into the whalebone piece of clothing. Mac nodded, and helped her friend into it. She began to firmly tie the strings in the back, and at each tug, Anastasia let out a gasp of air as the bone squeezed against her ribs.

"There you are, all tied," Mac told her after a few minutes, and she watched as Anastasia stiffly turned around.

"Okay," she gasped. "Your turn…"

Mac snickered as she stepped into her own corset, turning around so Anastasia could have access to her back. Mac closed her eyes and leaned against the wall, trying not to cry out as the bone pierced her sides as though someone were smacking her ribs with a hammer. This was cruelty if she ever saw it, making girls wear these things.

"Well," Mac told her after she finished. "At least you’re not as rough as Olga…"

Olga and Mac rarely got along, so to show her revenge Olga often pulled Mac’s corset strings much more tightly than was necessary. When the girls got into their gowns, they made their way into the main room, where Jack was just putting on his tie. Mac grinned…she always loved it when her father dressed up. She found it fantastic when she saw him in an imperial Russian uniform when they attended balls with the Tsar, though many of the formal dances Jack had gone to Mac had not been allowed to attend, for she was much too young. And, of course, the one ball Mac had been allowed to go to, her father had gotten sick.

"We’re ready," Mac announced, and Jack turned around, his lips curling into a big smile as he gave the girls a good look.

"You two look beautiful," he complimented, making Mac’s cheeks turn pink.

"It is so uncomfortable, though," Mac complained, massaging her ribs. "My sides are very sore now…"

Jack kissed her on top of the head. "Well, I’m sure after a while you’ll get used to it…" He cleared his throat, which was still sore.

"Yes. Once I go numb," Mac grumbled, looking at Anastasia, who was fixing her hair.

Jack chuckled. "It’ll be fine, sweetheart. I promise."

Mac sighed. "I hope you’re right, Papa. I just hope you’ll be all right…you look pale again…"

Jack checked himself in the mirror and rubbed his forehead. "Well, we should start making our way there…"

Anastasia jumped when she heard the horn being blown for the start of the dinner hour, and she took a deep breath, straightening up. She hoped no one would recognize her when they entered the first class dining room, though she highly doubted there would be many Russian royals there. She watched as Jack pulled open the door and followed them outside, and they made their way towards the first class section of the ship, where they had promised to meet Rose.

Chapter Twelve
Stories