The Captain's Daughter (7 page)

May sat by the railings on board the
Carpathia
, looking out across the silver expanse of water, alongside the other widows, praying there would be more boats to come. They’d been hoisted up in nets like cargo. She had been too weak and too cold to climb the ropes. Some were frozen in shawls and nightclothes, others dressed in furs clutching bedraggled, bewildered children, wrapped in blankets. All were equal in their suffering here.

There was an eerie silence punctuated by survivors scrabbling from deck to deck asking for news of their kin. ‘Have you seen . . . ? Which lifeboat were you in? Did you see my husband?’ The foreign women huddled in groups trying to understand their predicament while interpreters waved their arms, pointing out to sea and shaking their heads. May could hear the women screaming when they realized that they were now alone in the world with only the clothes they stood up in.

May sat back in a deck chair, cocooned in blankets, refusing to go below deck. She would sleep outside, if need be. How could she face the bowels of a ship again? She sipped strange coffee laced with spirits, warming her hands on the mug, the searing pain coursing through her fingers as they came back to life.

The girl in the fine coat had never left her side, fetching and carrying for her like a servant until she felt embarrassed. She couldn’t even recall her name. Was it Ernestine something? No, no matter . . . She was too tired to think.

She should have spoken up then, told her the truth about the baby, but she couldn’t let go of it. The panic of having empty arms overwhelmed her when a nurse came out to take the baby below for a medical examination. May had tried to follow but, overcome with anxiety, had sunk sobbing onto her deck chair. Now the child was back on her lap, clean and dry, and none the worse for her experience, they said. ‘Her.’ So, a baby girl, then, May noted. The power of those chocolate eyes bore into her heart as she smiled and the baby, wary at first, responded with a toothy grin. This poor little mite would know nothing of their ordeal, remember none of what went before. But May would remember this night for the rest of her life. She knew she would never be able to put it behind her.

Only yesterday she was snug with Joe in their cabin on the way to a new life, and then came those terrifying moments on deck before they were separated. Were Joe and Ellen gone? How cruel it was not to be able to say goodbye to them. There were no tender words of farewell, no kisses, just a frantic thrashing in the water in a desperate bid for life. Was she the only one left now to fend for herself? Her heart was numb with terror. The
Titanic
was indeed a monster swallowing every precious thing she possessed. Out there in the water, Joe and Ellen lay frozen, and in her heart she knew she would never see them again. She had lost her truest friend, her soul mate and their darling child, the flesh of her flesh. She clutched the rails desperately hoping for sight of another boat on the horizon.

She heard other women telling their stories to the crew of the
Carpathia
over and over again as if to make some sense of the terrible night’s drama.

Suddenly she heard the din of screaming voices as a mother was pulling a baby from the arms of another woman. ‘That’s my child! You have my Philly! Give him to me!’

The other woman, a foreigner, was clinging to the child.
‘Non! Non! Mio bambino!’

Then an officer came to separate them. ‘What’s going on?’

‘That woman has my son, Phillip. He was thrown in a lifeboat without me. She has my son!’

A crowd gathered, staring at the two crying women, who were quickly bustled out of sight by the crew. ‘Captain Rostron will sort this out in private,’ said the officer, who took the screaming baby in his arms and disappeared with it down the stairs, the women howling after him.

Unnerved by the scene, May knew she must take off the baby’s lace bonnet and force herself to walk around so people could admire the child’s lustrous dark hair and someone might lay claim to her.

‘Isn’t she lovely, and not a mark on her,’ said one couple, who were clinging to each other.

‘The captain rescued her himself and put her into the boat after me but he didn’t stop. The sailor told me, didn’t he?’ She looked around for her new friend from the lifeboat to confirm her story but she was out of earshot.

‘Did you hear that? Captain Smith saved the baby. He deserves a medal,’ said another woman, patting the baby’s curls.

May walked round every corner of the deck showing off the child, but no one claimed her as their own So it began right there, the slow realization that she could keep the little orphan. The baby was younger than Ellen, dark-eyed and olive-skinned but perfect.

May found some shelter to unpeel the blankets and examine the dry new layette given to her by passengers on the
Carpathia.
She couldn’t help but marvel at its quality. It was fit for a princess, made from fine lawn and merino wool, a lacy jacket and pretty ruffled bonnet, all donated willingly. Her kind befriender promised the baby’s original clothes were being laundered for her.

Discreetly, she opened the baby’s napkin, shaking with anxiety but to her utter relief she saw the baby was indeed a girl. The temptation was growing stronger now. Why should she not keep her? A baby needed a mother, not an orphanage full of other children. She should know, she’d been in one herself, later brought up in Cottage Homes outside the town and put into service without a relative who cared for her welfare until she met Joe. What would Joe make of it all? Suddenly she realized he would not be there to help her.
Oh, Joe, what shall I do?
Her mind was numb. She wept into her blanket, knowing she was alone in making this momentous decision.

The icy numbness of the night was wearing off into an aching in all her joints.

She knew when the baby had been declared unharmed by her experience, she should have spoken up to the ship’s doctor and confessed her mistake. But still she couldn’t spit out the words that would separate them. Perhaps later, when they docked, she would tell the truth, but she knew in her heart the deed was done.

‘You were given to me, the captain’s gift. It’s meant to be, you and me. Mum’s the word!’ she whispered into the baby’s ear. The baby was already nudging May’s chest for milk, fidgeting in her blankets and staring up at her in hunger.

‘Ella wants a feed,’ smiled her new friend, Celeste Parkes. The name suddenly came back to May.

‘I’ve no milk left,’ May muttered. Her own child had been weaned months ago.

‘I’m not surprised, the shock alone will have stopped your breast milk,’ Celeste replied. ‘Let me find her a bottle.’

Out of earshot, May bent over the baby. ‘I’m not giving you to no strangers after all we’ve been through together. I’ll be taking care of you from now on.’

The ship was heading back towards the site of the disaster. The passengers were warned not to stay on deck and it was raining, but May still refused to go below. She could see white objects bobbing on the horizon: wreckage and bodies. She turned her back on the sea. There was no point tormenting herself. Joe was never coming back, nor little Ellen. She felt sick at the thought of them out there somewhere at the mercy of the waves. How could she leave them and sail away?
How can I live without you both? What shall I do now?

Suddenly she knew she hadn’t the courage to go on to Idaho alone. She couldn’t go back to Bolton either. How could she explain the change in Ella’s size and colouring? Ella. Mrs Parkes had misheard her name but this suited May. Ella Smith was close enough to the name on her own baby’s birth certificate but different enough not to cause a shard of pain to pierce her heart every time she uttered it. Already she was proving adept in planning this terrible deceit.

Her mind was racing now. The two of them must go as far away from the sea as possible and from the memory of this terrible night, somewhere where no one knew them, where she could start over, and live this lie.

Hanging over the railings, she sobbed into the wind.
I have to do this, fill this emptiness in my heart with a bigger secret.
There was no hope for her now, only a lifetime of pain, but Ella was a remedy of sorts. May could hardly breathe for the ache in her ribs, that wave of relief to be alive, yet guilt, fury and loss were drowning her at the same time. She must turn aside from her own grief and live for this baby in her arms. In the purple twilight between darkness and daylight, she stared out to sea, wild-eyed, bewildered like a frightened child watching the sea crash against the ship, her eyes searching for something that was no longer there.

It came to her then that this was the most she could make of life now, a lonely journey carrying such a momentous secret in her heart, crippled with pain and guilt, with only this tiny mite in her arms. Numb as she was, part of her mind was alert, reasoning her actions.
God be with you, my darlings. I hope you understand there’s a little one here who needs me now. You will remain in my heart for as long as I live but now I have another purpose.
She had survived to take care of this baby. Ella would be her reason to live.

Later on that long morning came the muster roll of survivors.

‘Your name?’ said the officer, consulting his list, making sure every rescued passenger was accounted for.

‘Mary Smith, but I am called May,’ said May, hesitating, looking at Celeste. ‘My husband, Joseph Smith, is twenty-seven, tall and dark. He’s a carpenter.’ She looked up hopefully.

He didn’t meet her eye. ‘The baby?’

‘Ellen Smith . . . little Ella, we call her. The captain saved her,’ she added almost proudly.

‘She’s right, ask the fireman on our lifeboat. He tried to drag him in . . . but he swam off,’ Celeste added.

‘I see. And you are . . . ?’

‘Celestine Parkes, Mrs Grover Parkes from Akron, Ohio. I was with this lady in the same lifeboat. Do you have a Mrs Grant on board?’

The officer shook his head. ‘We’ve not mustered everyone yet. The
Carpathia
will sweep over the site and then return to New York so I suggest you go down into the dining room and take instruction from there,’ he ordered. ‘There will be a service of remembrance shortly.’

‘But this lady needs new clothes, as you can see,’ Celeste insisted.

‘The women passengers aboard will see to that when you go below deck. This is no place to be out with a baby,’ he insisted. ‘Everything you need is down there.’

‘Thank you,’ Celeste muttered as the officer rushed to another group of survivors.

May was reluctant to descend. ‘I can’t go down there. I can’t move.’

‘I’ll help you down. Let me take little Ella. She’s such a picture,’ she said. ‘So dark . . . not a bit like you.’ Celeste paused, hoping she didn’t take offence. May was the sort of girl you would never notice in a crowd. Celeste could read the panic on her face as she relived terrible memories.

‘Joe was dark. They said there was gypsy blood way back when the weavers walked,’ May replied, not looking at her. It was an effort to say her husband’s name out loud.

‘Really? Those eyes are as dark as coal. My son, Roderick, is so fair his eyes are almost silver. He’s safe at home with his father. I was back in England attending my mother’s funeral in Lichfield.’ Celeste stopped in her tracks. She didn’t normally tell strangers her business but they were hardly strangers now. They had shared the worst a person could face. ‘Do call me Celeste . . . I’m afraid my parents got carried away. I was the last, the only girl in a tribe of brothers, and my mother thanked the heavens for my appearance!’

‘I’m sorry about your mother. It must be a wrench to live so far from home,’ May replied as she gingerly took one step at a time below deck.

‘Papa is well cared for with the other retired clergyman in Cathedral Close. I have to go back to be with my little boy. He’s only two and I’ve missed him so much.’

‘We were heading out to somewhere in Idaho. I had the address but it’s gone now. Where’s Akron?’ May, clutching the baby, edged down the corridor to a door opening into a vast dining room where people were sitting around looking lost.

‘It’s in Ohio, close to a city called Cleveland. It’s not exactly pretty or ancient, like Lichfield, but I suppose I call it home. America is huge; you’ll get used to it.’

‘Oh, no, I’m going back to England. I can’t stay here, not now,’ May replied.

‘Don’t make any decisions yet. See how things turn out.’

‘But I want to go back. There’s nothing for us here. This was Joe’s dream, never mine.’ Her lip trembled. She’d never felt so alone, so far away from all she knew. ‘They’ll give us a return ticket, won’t they?’

‘I’m sure they will.’ Celeste could see the panic on her face and wanted to comfort her. ‘Don’t look so worried. I’ll help you. The White Star Line must compensate you for your loss. Now I must go in search of news of Mrs Grant . . . I do hope she survived.’

‘Thank you, you’ve been so kind.’ May started to shake again and Celeste found her a corner to sit down. ‘Joe had such plans. I can’t believe this is happening. What did we do to deserve this, Celestine?’

‘We did nothing but trust ourselves to the good offices of the White Star Line. They will have to account in a court of law for all this. Now you must rest. You’ll feel more yourself with fresh clothes and a warm bath. I’ll go with Ella and see if my old lady was rescued. Your baby’s safe with me and may possibly tug some heartstrings for information.’

‘No!’ May shouted. ‘I mean, please, the baby stays with me. I don’t want to let her out of my sight.’ May clutched the bundle of blankets for dear life. ‘Thank you kindly, ma’am, but we’ll stay put.’

The poor girl couldn’t let Ella out of her sight. It must be the shock, Celeste thought as she went back on deck. Looking up, she saw that the ship’s flag flew at half mast. Soon they would all be gathering down below for the remembrance service. She didn’t envy the person having to lead such a sorrowful gathering but the dead must be honoured.

May was glad to be alone, away from prying questions, however kindly meant. Celeste’s offer to take Ella had rattled her resolve. Should she disappear, take Ella to the purser’s office and confess her mistake? Should she give up the baby and hide away from the world with just her grief for company? She could claim her dreadful error was brought about by shock. There would be no harm done and she needn’t face the lady again. Celestine. What a name to have to cart around.