TITANIC: A STORY TOLD
Chapter Forty-Eight
Jack and Rose entered hold number two and ran
laughing between the rows of stacked cargo. She hugged herself against the
cold, after the dripping heat of the boiler room.
They came upon William Carter’s brand new
Renault touring car, lashed down to a pallet. It looked like a royal coach from
a fairy tale, its brass trim and headlamps nicely set off by its deep burgundy
color.
Rose climbed into the plushy upholstered back
seat, acting very royal. There were cut crystal bud vases on the walls back
there, each containing a rose. Jack jumped into the driver’s seat, enjoying the
feel of the leather and wood.
"Where to, Miss?"
"To the stars."
Her hands came out of the shadows and pulled
him over the seat into the back. He landed next to her, and his breathing
seemed loud in the quiet darkness. He looked at her, and she was smiling. It
was the moment of truth.
"Are you nervous?"
"No."
He stroked her face, cherishing her. She
kissed his artist’s fingers.
"Put your hands on me, Jack."
He kissed her, and she slid down in the seat
under his welcome weight.
*****
A brilliant arc of electricity arched in the
machine--the spark gap of the Marconi instrument as senior wireless operator
Jack Phillips rapidly keyed out a message. Junior operator Bride looked through
the huge stack of outgoing messages swamping them.
"Look at this one, he wants his private
train to meet him. La dee da." Bride slapped them down. "We’ll be up
all bloody night on this lot."
Phillips started to receive an incoming
message from a nearby ship, the Leyland freighter Californian, which jammed his
outgoing signal. At such close range, the beeps were deafening.
"Christ! It’s that idiot on the
Californian."
Cursing, Phillips furiously keyed a rebuke.
*****
Wireless operator Cyril Evans pulled his
earphone off his ear as the Titanic’s spark deafened him. He translated the
message for Third Officer Groves.
"Stupid bastard. I try to warn him about
the ice, and he says, ‘Keep out. Shut up. I’m working Cape Race.’"
"Now what’s he sending?"
"’No seasickness. Poker business good.
Al.’ Well, that’s it for me. I’m shutting down."
As Evans wearily switched off his generator,
Groves went out on deck. The ship was stopped fifty yards from the edge of a
field of pack ice and icebergs stretching as far as the eye could see.
*****
Titanic was steaming hell-bent through the
darkness, hurling up white water at the bow. The bow moved straight ahead,
raising a giant wave in its wake.
*****
The rear window of the Renault was completely
fogged up. Rose’s hand came up and slammed against the glass for a moment,
making a handprint in the veil of condensation.
Inside the car, Jack’s overcoat was like a
blanket over them. It stirred, and Rose pulled it down. They were huddled under
it, intertwined, still mostly clothed. Their faces were flushed and they looked
at each other wonderingly. She put her hand on his face, as if making sure he
was real.
"You’re trembling."
"It’s okay. I’m all right."
He lay his cheek against her chest.
"I can feel your heart beating."
She hugged his head to her chest, and just
held on for dear life.
She wasn’t the first teenage girl to get
seduced in the back seat of a car, and certainly not the last, by several
million. He had such fine hands, artist’s hands, but strong too...roughened by
work. She remembered their touch even after eighty-four years.