Tabitha (23 page)

She leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on Rose’s hair, careful not to
disturb her. Then she let herself out of Palmer House.

Perhaps for the last time?

O Lord! I pray you will not let this be my last sight of this dear house
and its dearer people!

~~**~~

And
we have a priceless inheritance
—an inheritance that is kept in heaven . . .
pure and undefiled,
beyond the reach of change and decay.
(1 Peter 1:4, NLT)

After two days on the train and one night suffered in a
strange hotel, Tabitha was relieved to arrive in New York late afternoon of the
second day. Yet, when she stepped down from her train, she was stunned by the
enormity of Grand Central Terminal, with its forty below-ground lines and
platforms and the dust and rubble of ongoing construction.

She allowed herself to be herded along by the stream of
disembarking passengers until she reached the main concourse. The immense, open
room was overwhelming, but it offered her an escape.

Tabitha set her face and feet toward the nearest exit. She
emerged from the station amid many strange buildings and bustling crowds. When
she managed to secure a cab to take her directly from the train station to the
docks, she slumped with relief in her seat.

“Pier 114, please,” she told the driver.

“Sure thing, lady.”

The cab wove in and out of late-day city traffic—a jarring
cacophony of sight, sound, and chaotic struggle between motorized and
nonmotorized vehicles. Trucks, cabs, carts, vendors, farmers, and merchantmen
vied for passage through the streets.

Finally, Tabitha saw the glint of water ahead of them.

“Here ya go, miss,” the cabby announced.

“Could you wait for me?” Tabitha asked. “I am only picking
up my ticket.”

The cabby shrugged. “Sure thing, but th’ meter keeps
runnin’.”

Tabitha presented herself at the pier’s office window and
tendered her newly obtained passport. As the tiny book contained only Tabitha’s
name, address, and description, the official studied it and then scrutinized
her. With a nod, the agent handed back her passport and, after a short search,
passed her a sealed envelope.

Tabitha stepped aside and perused the contents of the
envelope: A letter of authorization that identified Tabitha as a nurse of the
British Red Cross assigned to the QAIMNS
.
Her boarding papers for the
Arabic
.
Instructions for travel from Liverpool to QAIMNS headquarters in Surrey.
A
voucher for bus and rail travel in England. A small amount of British coin and
currency.

They have thought of everything
, Tabitha thought with
approval. She returned to her cab.

“Could you recommend a clean hotel close by?” she asked the
driver.

“Yup.” He wheeled the cab in a tight circle. Minutes later,
he pulled alongside a modest building. “That’ll be dollar fifty,” he announced.

Tabitha fumbled for the change. “Could you pick me up
tomorrow morning? At eight?”

“Yup.”

When she arrived at the same pier the following morning, the
scene was very different from the afternoon prior. Vehicles clogged the harbor
streets, each trying to edge closer to the pier before disgorging their fares
and luggage. Streams of passengers flowed toward the gate leading to the
gangway.

“Ya might as well hoof it from here,” the cabby observed
with laconic logic. “Ya aint’ got much t’ carry anyways.”

“Thank you,” Tabitha replied. She handed him his money and
joined the throng converging on the ship.

The
Arabic
towered above the pier and yet, at six
hundred feet in length, was not the largest of the White Star Line’s
ocean-going ships. Tabitha stared up at the single huge stack protruding from
the center of the ship and the four masts, two aft and two fore. As she climbed
the gangplank, she noted the three decks rising above the ship’s main deck and
the lines of portholes below the main deck.

Once aboard, Tabitha found a place at the rail among the
crush of passengers waving to friends and family down on the docks. She did not
want to be in her cabin when the ship slipped its moorings and steamed out of
the harbor, so she set her suitcase on the deck in front of her feet, placed
her hands on the rail, and surveyed the bustling activity on the pier below.

Tabitha shivered when the ship’s engine rumbled and the deck
beneath her feet shuddered. Two tug boats nudged the much larger ship and, amid
great shouts from the crew and the cries of the passengers, the
Arabic
slid from the pier.

As the distance between shore and ship increased, so did
Tabitha’s view. Soon she could make out the whole of the island’s lower
outline, the two rivers bounding the island, and the cities on opposite shores.
As the
Arabic
made its heading toward the open sea, Tabitha gazed in awe
at the green-gold lady, torch uplifted, guarding the entrance to the harbor.

The crowds of passengers laughed and chattered as they broke
away from the rails. Tabitha, too, went in search of her berth. A steward
pointed her to a tiny cabin one flight down from the main deck. The room had
two beds, one built above the other, taking up the entire width of the narrow
room. A grandmotherly woman reclined upon the bottom bed. She raised her head
when Tabitha entered.

“Good morning, dearie. I am Mrs. Patch. You do not mind
taking the upper bed, do you?” the sweet older woman asked.

“Not at all, Mrs. Patch.” Tabitha introduced herself and
hoisted her suitcase onto the upper bed. She stared at her berth, at the bars
along its edge that would, presumably, prevent her from rolling out onto the
cabin’s floor in her sleep—or in rough seas.

Hmmm. And just how shall I manage to get myself up there?

“Bit of a ladder there,” her cabinmate pointed out.

Tabitha nodded and climbed, a little awkwardly, onto her
mattress to try it out.

“I’ve been in the States for two months, visiting my
children and their families in New Jersey. Headed home to England now,” Mrs.
Patch offered. “What are your travel plans, dearie?”

“I am a volunteer nurse with the Imperial Nursing Service,”
Tabitha answered. It was the first time she’d called herself part of the
service.

“Bless you, dear! Bless you! Leaving your home to help us?
Oh, the Lord bless you. And what part of this country do you call home?”

“Denver. In Colorado.”

“Oh, my. America is so big. Where would this Denver be,
dearie?”

“In the west,” Tabitha replied. “In the Rocky Mountains.”

“Merciful heavens! America has such tall mountains!”

A knock sounded on the door. “All passengers report to the
main deck. All passengers please report to the main deck.” The voice repeated
the command as it faded down the passageway.

“It is the safety drill, dearie,” her English shipmate informed
her.

When the majority of passengers had assembled on the open
deck, the captain, standing upon a box, raised his voice and bellowed, “I am
Captain William Finch, master of the
Arabic
. In the event of an
emergency, every passenger must know his or her lifeboat number and assembly
point. First Mate Kirby will explain the process. You will give him your full
attention.”

The first mate took the captain’s place on the box and
described the manner in which cabin numbers and lifeboats corresponded. “Your
cabin and lifeboat are on the same side of the ship,” he shouted. “Port side
cabins, port side boats. Starb’rd cabins, starb’rd boats. D’ye see? Your
lifeboat number is painted on the backside of your cabin door. Memorize it!
Your life vests are stowed in cabinets directly across from your lifeboat. D’ I
make myself clear?”

A general murmur wafted back to him.

“I said, DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?” he roared.

This time the response was quicker and louder. “Yes!”

“If the ship’s claxon sounds, you will gather your party and
proceed immediately to your assigned lifeboat. You will retrieve a life vest
from the cabinet opposite your assigned lifeboat, and don it. You will take
nothing with you other than the clothes you wear. You will
not
go back
to your cabin to fetch anything. You will queue up with your backs against the
ship’s wall opposite your assigned lifeboat.

“You
will not
approach the rail until a crewmember
sways the boat over the deck and bids you to enter it. You
will
not
attempt to enter your lifeboat before you are ordered to. You
will
not
attempt to board any lifeboat other than
your
assigned boat. ARE MY
INSTRUCTIONS CLEAR?”

“Yes!” The passengers responded as one.

The mate stepped down and Captain Finch again climbed upon
the box. He cleared his throat.

“People, we are all nervous about German U-boats patrolling
the seas and sinking innocent passenger vessels. Our concern is understandable.
God willing, we shall make this crossing without encountering the German Navy.

“To that end, this ship runs dark and silent at night. Come
dusk, all cabin windows must be closed and covered. No exceptions
.
The
crew will black out all windows in the dining room and salon and will douse all
external ship lights save the minimum running lights needed for safe
navigation.”

He frowned mightily and glared around at the cowed
passengers. “After dark there shall be no loud noises: No loud talking. No
shouting. No singing. No music. No slamming of hatches or doors. No dropping of
heavy objects. Immediately following dinner, passengers will retire to their
cabins and remain there, engaging only in low conversation. In any and every
event, passengers will follow crew instructions promptly and without argument.”

He drew himself up. “America is not in this war. However, we
are living in a time of war, and we are entering a war zone. The safety of this
ship and its passengers is my responsibility. Have no doubt:
I am master
here
. I will brook no deviation from these rules or any questioning of them
or of a crew member’s directives. Am I understood?”

“Yes, Captain!” The passengers were well and truly terrified
by now, Tabitha included.

“Don’t worry, dearie,” Mrs. Patch soothed as the passengers
dispersed. “I’ve crossed over many times on the
Arabic
. The captain gave
the same talk on the way over. He is really quite a charming man—when there
isn’t a war on.”

Tabitha just nodded. This was her first time aboard a ship and,
as the ship left land far behind and she could no longer glimpse the shore, the
expanse of open ocean turned her legs to boneless rubber.

Six days and five nights glided peacefully by. Even on the
third day, when the weather had strengthened a bit, Tabitha had counted the
rough sea a blessing—if the weather kept the German threat at bay.

So long as this ship stays afloat, Lord, I am content,
she
had prayed.

“The captain wishes me to announce that we expect to make
port tomorrow by 10 a.m.,” the first mate informed the passengers at dinner the
evening of the sixth day.

With the news that they had made good time on their crossing
and would reach Liverpool early the following day, Tabitha and her fellow
passengers were elated. What the mate had omitted to mention was that the last
eight hours of their journey would be the most dangerous portion of their
crossing.

Tabitha rose not long after dawn to the general stirring of
the ship and its passengers embarking upon a new day. She dressed, washed her
face, and combed out her hair before pinning it in the severe lines she was now
accustomed to as a nurse.

“You have such lovely hair, dearie,” her little roommate
commented. “Such as shame to keep it all bound up like that.”

Tabitha smiled. “I am in the habit of it, I suppose, Mrs.
Patch.”

“I want to thank you, Miss Hale, for coming over to nurse
our bonny boys.”

The older woman’s gratitude touched Tabitha’s heart. She
ducked her head a little, acknowledging her cabinmate’s appreciation.

A shuffling and low commotion in the passageway interrupted
them. Tabitha put her head out of the door and saw crew members urging
passengers into the passageway and up the stairs. It was being done with as
little noise as possible.

One of them noticed her. “Miss! To the dining room, right
quick! Everyone!” he whispered.

“We have to go, Mrs. Patch. Right now!” Tabitha grabbed her
sweater and handbag and bolted for the door.

“What is it?” Mrs. Patch followed suit and clutched her
sweater and handbag to her chest.

“Shhh. Just come. Hurry, now. And quiet like,” Tabitha
insisted.

They joined the line of silent passengers—some in a confused
state of attire—that streamed up the stairs to the main deck and into the
common areas. The entire ship’s complement soon crowded into the dining room
and salon, and yet the room was hushed. No one dared to ask questions, but
those nearest the windows scanned the sea with anxious eyes.

The ship’s doctor and second mate stood upon chairs, head
and shoulders above the passengers. Their threatening scowls and gestures
forbade any questions.

The second mate motioned for attention. When even the faint
shuffling of feet settled, he whispered, loud enough for most to hear. “Ship’s
lookout sighted a periscope off our starboard bow. We have radioed for
assistance. If a ship of the Royal Navy is nearby, she will come.”

Tabitha’s throat threatened to close up on her. She heard
more than saw other women nearby gasping for air.

“Silence!” the second mate growled,
sotto voce
.

The passengers stilled again, all but for a small
disturbance off to Tabitha’s left. She heard a man whispering as loudly as he
could, “Help! My wife needs help!”

Tabitha did not hesitate. She pushed her way through the
close-packed bodies, hissing, “Make way! Make way!” as she did. When she
arrived at the prostrate woman, the ship’s doctor was close behind her.

“Seizure,” Tabitha whispered to him, taking in the woman’s
stiffened, jerking body at a glance.

He dropped to his knees to examine the woman. He looked up
at Tabitha. “You are a nurse?” he asked softly.