By the Light of the Silvery Moon (33 page)

Quentin waited until he saw the door to Amelia’s stateroom close, and then he quickly moved to his second-class stateroom and entered. Even though his father had provided a room above and filled it with fine things, he kept the things that mattered most here.

His eyes immediately moved to the top drawer of the bureau, and he hurried to it, pulling it open. Inside there were only two items, his mother’s pearl necklace and a letter he’d started writing to Amelia. He’d planned on giving both to Amelia tomorrow night, after the party his father was giving to him. Amelia had given him the greatest treasure he could imagine—hope for a reconciliation with God and with his father. Both had been gifts to him. His chest felt light and full at the same time.

He slid both into his coat pocket and then patted it.

He did love her. He’d been afraid to admit it before. But now …

Could his confession wait until tomorrow?

He worried that it couldn’t.

Quentin moved back into the hall and heard Amelia talking as she helped her aunt dress. He thought about knocking at the door, but his mind carried him another direction, to third class. Was anyone down there rousing them? Helping them? Telling them they needed to head up to the boat decks? Even if there was nothing seriously wrong with the ship, it was better to be safe.

He turned and jogged down the hall, thinking through the best maze of passageways that would take him to third class. He couldn’t help everybody, but he had to do his part. God had done so much for him … it was the least he could do.

F
rom the first-class decks, Damien looked down onto the forward well. Dorothea’s kisses were still warm on his lips, but his mind was on another. He didn’t want to think about where Amelia was now—who she was with. It was bad enough to hear his father talk about Quentin without stopping. It pained him to hear his father’s prayers of thankfulness. How could he be thankful to be reunited with someone who’d caused so much pain?

His eyes widened as he spotted chunks of ice scattered across the deck, ankle deep. Laughter filled the air and, below, a group of boys spilled out of the third-class doorway, throwing the ice at each other. Within seconds their throwing turned to kicks, and they started up a game of American soccer. At least they knew how to have fun—how to liven things up.

He strode to the smoking room and saw three gentleman playing cards. “If you’re wanting to know what we hit, it was an iceberg. Seems to have passed now.”

One of the men glanced up. “Maybe that’s why they’ve slowed the engines—because more are ahead.”

A man from outside rushed into the room. “It was an iceberg, all right. Saw it with my own eyes.”

One of the other card players shrugged and then fixed his eyes back on his game.

“How big?” Damien asked.

“Sixty feet, maybe more.”

Damien nodded, glancing down at his suit and wondering if he should go for his coat. He might want to venture out later, and a coat would help against the cold. “My guess is that we swiped an iceberg with a glancing blow and they stopped to examine her,” he said, even though no one seemed to pay him any mind.

One of the card players laughed. “Poor vessel. Such a pretty thing, and now some of her paint has been scratched off her side.”

“Well, look at it this way,” the final card player piped up. “It appears we have more ice for our drinks, gentlemen. Now back to our brandy.”

As the men continued their game, Damien returned to the deck, walking vigorously to keep warm. He glanced over the rail a few more times, as if the answer to why they stopped could be found in the waves.

Minutes passed, and the ship began to move again, slowly, creeping through the water. Just then he spotted something out of the corner of his eye. An officer climbed up on a lifeboat and began to throw off its cover.

Damien crossed his arms over his chest, considering if he should warn anyone. The first person who crossed his mind was Amelia. He shook his head and sighed. Quentin would take care of her, he supposed. His lips lifted in a sarcastic smile, again unsure of what someone like her saw in someone like his brother.

Pushing her from his thoughts, Damien approached one of the officers who was milling around.

“We struck an iceberg, but there is no need to worry,” the officer explained even before he asked.

Damien knew the best thing to do would be to return and reassure his father. There was no need for the old man to get up and dressed for no reason. Still, he hurried to their stateroom, and a foreboding came over him. What would happen to his father if he wasn’t around? His father had embraced Quentin, that was to be sure. But where was his younger brother when Father needed help?

He moved through their shared sitting area and knocked on his father’s door. The light flipped on, and his father opened it. Just as Damien was about to tell him of the iceberg, a loud pounding sounded from outside.

“It’s ordered that everyone must put on their life belts!” a voice called. “Then head up to the decks as you are able!”

His father looked to him, concern filling his gaze. “What’s happening?” “We hit an iceberg, Father, but I’m sure all will soon be well. You know how important safety is to our captain. I imagine once everything is checked out, they’ll be sending us back to bed.”

His father’s butler entered the room and pulled out clothes.

Damien dressed, putting on an extra layer of clothes over the ones he was wearing. Then, with quickened movements, he gathered up their watches, wallets, and trinkets that they’d picked up in London—putting them in their trunk and locking it tight, lest anyone try to sneak in and rob them of their things during the confusion.

“Are you ready, Father?”

“I am, but what about your brother?” Panic seized the old man’s face.

“I’ll check his room again, but I’ve been watching, and he hasn’t returned. I believe he’s with Amelia.” “Yes, please check, and then search the decks, will you, Damien? Now that I know your brother’s on this liner, my heart’s not going to settle until I know he’s safe—until I know we’re all safe together.”

A man’s voice echoed through the halls. “All passengers on deck with life belts on!”

Amelia put her lifebelt on over her coat, tying it firmly. A shiver ran up her arms, and she turned to her aunt, helping to tie her life belt, too. Then they left their room as quickly as they could.

Other passengers filled the halls and passageways now, yet none of them seemed alarmed. All spoke in low tones as they filed up to the deck, wondering what this could mean.

Amelia took her aunt’s hand, and they walked side by side. Before and behind them, fellow passengers chatted as they walked. No one seemed in a hurry. Some joked of their midnight drill. Amelia’s stomach knotted, and she thought she would be ill. Only the officers’ anxious faces looked alarmed.

She led her aunt to the place where Quentin had told her to meet him, but he was nowhere in sight. Around them, the shouts of officers and sailors filled the air as they hurriedly prepared the lifeboats.

“Amelia, this deck is cold.” Her aunt’s chin quivered. “Maybe we should go in there.” Aunt Neda turned and pointed to the reception room. Following her gaze, Amelia saw that indeed most of the passengers were inside, enjoying music, drinking. Fur coats draped over their life belts, and men and women huddled in small groups, laughing and talking.

Amelia lowered her head and said a quick prayer for wisdom. If only Quentin were here. Where had he gone?

“All right, Aunt.” Amelia blew out a sigh, and her breath hung in the air. “We can go in for a little while. No use standing in the cold.”

They hurried inside and huddled with the others near the grand stairway, listening to the musicians play. Amelia crossed her arms over her chest, anger mixing with her worry. Where had Quentin gone?

As the minutes ticked by, Amelia thought about returning to the deck to look for him. Just then she felt a hand on her arm. She turned and immediately recognized the red-headed steward, one of those she’d chatted with on the journey.

“Don’t you realize this ship is going down, ma’am? We’ve struck an iceberg. They’ve already launched some lifeboats. You must get in the first one you can.”

She opened her mouth to reply, but what could one say to that? With urgency in his gaze, he hurried off without mentioning the lifeboats to any others.

“Aunt, can you wait here one moment? Mr. Walpole’s stateroom isn’t far. I just want to go take a look.”

“Yes, dear.” She nodded. “But hurry. You heard what that young man said.”

Amelia quickly strode up the stairway and then found herself jogging down the hall where the first-class staterooms were. As she continued on, an eeriness passed through her. The rooms were lit so brilliantly, their doors were opened, their contents scattered.

Down the hall she heard a woman calling to a steward, frantic that she could not find her life belt. The steward removed his own life belt and hurriedly rushed toward her.

Arriving at the Walpole staterooms, Amelia let out a cry. They were empty. Rushing back to her aunt, she grabbed her arm and guided her outside.

“Did you find Quentin?” Aunt Neda asked.

“No.” Her voice quavered. “There was no one there.”

“Maybe they put the first class into lifeboats first. Maybe he’s already left.”

Amelia shook her head. “No, he wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t leave me.”

Aunt Neda looked into Amelia’s face. “Of course not, dear. Of course not.”

O
n the top deck, many passengers had assembled. Women in coats and wraps. Others with blankets wrapped around their shoulders, shivering. Thankfully, with the ship’s engines stopped, the breeze caused by its movement had died down, too. Amelia peered at the ocean below. It seemed so vast and dark. The air was frigid, and she guessed the water was colder still. The
Titanic
seemed large and steady. She questioned if the steward had known what he was talking about. The ship under her feet seemed far safer than the small lifeboats setting off.

The men and women around her stood quietly on the deck, watching the crew as they prepared the lifeboats. They arranged the oars and coiled ropes on decks. One man adjusted the ropes that ran the pulleys, preparing to lower a boat to the sea. No one questioned what was happening. No one offered to help.

The atmosphere was quiet, and stars filled the sky. She glanced around and noticed that there was no moon. So she hummed her favorite song to calm her nerves. More people poured from the stairs and filled the deck.

By the light of the silvery moon …

“Lifeboats? Why are they lowering the lifeboats?” A woman’s voice called out. “This ship could smash a hundred icebergs and not feel it!”

I want to spoon, To my honey I’ll croon love’s tune …

As if responding to the woman, an officer cried out, “Get on your life belts, there’s trouble ahead!”

Honey moon, keep a-shinin’ in June. Your silv’ry beams will bring love’s dreams, We’ll be cuddlin’ soon, by the silvery moon …

Just then Amelia turned and saw Quentin approaching. He led a woman with three young daughters. Quentin fastened the life belt on a girl who appeared to be around ten years old as they approached. “Here, see how that fits. It’s the latest fashion. Everyone will be wearing them soon.”

The girl approached Amelia, tugging on her arm. “Do you think they’ll have a life preserver for my doggie? He’s in a crate down below.” Amelia turned to the girl’s mother. Tears filled the woman’s eyes. Then she turned back to the young girl.

“I’m not sure they have one his size, dearie. But look at those people getting on the lifeboat. Would you like to join them?”

The mother crossed her arms and pulled them tight to her chest. “No, we’re waiting here for my husband. He’s coming up just now with our son. Should be here any moment.”

Amelia turned to Quentin, her eyes pleading for him to help.

He stepped forward. “Ma’am, if I were your husband, I would feel better knowing you were on a lifeboat. If you go ahead, I’ll make sure he knows you’re safe.”

The woman looked around as if hoping her husband would suddenly appear. “Are you sure?”

Quentin nodded. “Yes, ma’am, go ahead and get in the boat.”

Relief filled the woman’s face, and she hurried to the nearest boat. Within a minute’s time, they were safely aboard.

“Did they come from third class?” Amelia asked Quentin.

He nodded. “Yes, that’s where I came from. I did what I could to lead some people up to the decks, but there was too much confusion. Many didn’t want to leave their things, their large trunks. It’s all that they own.”

Beside them, a young man led his wife to the awaiting officer who manned the next lifeboat. “You go, and I’ll stay awhile,” the young husband said. He stroked her long hair.

“You’ll get in another boat, won’t you?” Her words released as sobs.