The Titanic Plan (45 page)

Archie woke up the next morning and cancelled his ticket. Blurry-eyed from lack of sleep, he marched into the Oval Office and told Taft that he had decided not to travel to Italy, but to stay in Washington D.C. to be by the President’s side. “You will do no such thing, Major,” Taft replied. “You will be on the ship.” Then Taft grew serious. “I will need you soon enough, Archie…Go to Rome, relax, take care of the little business we discussed, meet the Pope, then come back rested and ready to be at my side for the battle.”

Archie agreed. That night though, he was again invaded by a deep feeling of dread. He re-experienced the icy chill of a premonition. The next day he decided to make a will for the first time in his life. He wrote to his sister-in-law again that evening: “I have come to the conclusion that if I am to go through this frightful summer I must rest now. Don’t forget that all my papers are in the storage warehouse, and if the old ship goes down you will find my affairs in shipshape condition. As I always write you in this way whenever I go anywhere, you will not be bothered by presentiments now.”

* * *

On March 2, 1912, Archie climbed the boarding ramp of the
S.S.
Berlin.
As was the custom, the deck of the ship was crowded with friends and relatives of the passengers bidding them
bon voyage
. There was also a gang of reporters from the New York dailies whose beat it was to cover the goings and comings of famous passengers. On that day, the Military Aide to the President qualified as famous. A report of Archie’s departure appeared in the March 3rd edition of the
New York Times.
“Major Archibald Butt, Military Aide to the President of the United States, sailed yesterday for Europe on the North German Lloyd liner Berlin for a rest in a suit of clothes that won the admiration of every passenger on the deck of the liner, including a deaf and dumb Greek sponge merchant from Patras. His cambric handkerchief was tucked up his left sleeve like Kipling’s pukka Indian soldier man. He wore a bright copper-colored Norfolk jacket fastened by big ball-shaped buttons of red porcelain, a lavender tie, tall bay-wing collar, trousers of the same material as the coat, a derby hat with a broad, flat brim, and patent leather shoes with white tops. The Major had a bunch of lilies in his buttonhole, and appeared to be delighted at the prospect of going away.”

The reporters bantered with Archie who, despite the stiff wind that was gusting across the harbor and right into his face, seemed to enjoy the spotlight. “How’s Taft holding out?” a reporter shouted. “Just fine,” Archie answered. “It’s me who’s lost 20 pounds.” “Rumor has it you’re engaged to be married, Major.” “I wish it were true,” Archie shot back. “This bachelorhood is a miserable existence.”

As questions came flying his way, Archie noticed a woman staring at him from beyond the cluster of reporters. Her collar was pulled high against her face and her hair coiled like a whirly-top in the wind. The focus of her gaze made Archie uneasy and he was about to glance away when the woman turned her face and it caught the light. Belle.

“
Excuse me,” Archie said striding through the reporters and motioning to Belle to step around the corner, out of view of the press.

“
What are you doing here?” Archie asked her when they finally found a quiet spot near the ship’s stern.

“
I’ve decided to join you on your voyage to Italy,” Belle said with a straight face, only to break into a throaty laugh when she saw Archie’s expression grow slack. “Oh, don’t worry, Archie, I wouldn’t put you under the pressure of having a woman by your side, though it would probably do you some good.”

“
Depends on the woman,” Archie retorted, then added, “It would be a pleasure to have you by my side, Belle.”

Belle leaned forward and kissed Archie on the cheek. “You do possess a genuine Southern charm, Major, whether you’re telling the truth or not.”

“
Southern charm is always genuine, whether it is the truth or not.”

“
I need to ask a favor of you, Archie,” Belle said as she pulled an ornate bronze box from beneath her coat. It was about the size of a cigar-box and locked with a small golden padlock. “Mr. Morgan will be in Rome when you are and I suspect your paths will cross. I wonder if you could deliver this to him. It’s very important.”

“
You came all this way to ask me to play messenger boy?”

Belle ran her hand through her wind-blown hair, trying to push the chaos back into place. “There’s something more.”

“
Tell me.”

She turned away from him and looked out over the harbor. “I don’t know. I just want you to be careful. Will you promise me that?”

“
If you tell me what I should be careful of, I will make that promise.”

“
I’m not sure, Archie. If I knew, I’d tell you. But John Astor, George Vanderbilt, and, yes, Mr. Morgan, they are very willful men. You have to be on your guard when you deal with them.”

“
How do you know I’m dealing with those gentlemen?”

“
I’m a cobra, remember?” Belle said with her coy smile. “And a cobra in the grass knows everything.”

Before Archie could answer, the shrill horn of the S.S.
Berlin
cut through the air. “Time for visitors to leave, Belle.”

“
Will you wire me that everything is okay in Italy?”

“
I’ll wire you that I’m having the time of my life and there’s nothing to worry about.”

The ship’s horn sounded again. Belle reached into her purse and dug out a silver dollar. “Throw this coin in a Roman fountain and think of me when you do. For luck.”

“
Will do,” Archie said, feeling the coin drop heavily into his hand.

“
And wire me the date of your return. I’ll come meet the ship.” She hesitated for a moment then pressed her thumb onto his chin and tilted his head down so his blue eyes could meet her jade ones. “Thank you, Archie.”

“
For what?”

She didn’t answer, but rather, rose to her tiptoes and pressed close. Archie could feel the sweet crackle of electricity when her lips touched his.

CHAPTER 49

E
ntering his stateroom, Archie was greeted with a hardy embrace from Frank Millet. “Get you out of those dreadful uniforms, Arch, and you look like a civilized human being,” Millet said, then scrutinized Archie’s gaudy suit. “Well, maybe semi-civilized.”

Frank Millet was always a breath of fresh air. 20 years older than Archie, Millet was a man of high spirits and an ebullient personality – part big brother to Archie, part provocateur, part drinking buddy and part card partner. He was a boy drummer in the Civil War who went on to become a journalist and war correspondent, only to transform himself into a painter who was put on par with America’s most celebrated artist, John Singer Sargent. By 1912, Millet was in his mid-sixties and capping his career as the Director of the
American Academy of Art
in Rome. It was Academy business that required him to travel to Italy.

“
I always get compliments on my style, Frank,” Archie responded to Millet’s backhanded compliment about his suit.

“
Did I say you weren’t stylish? You will be the talk of Rome with those lilies in your buttonhole. How about a
bon voyage
drink? Start the vacation on a proper note.” Millet was already pouring champagne into two goblets. “Major…” Millet held out the sparkling glass of wine, “here’s to calm seas, warm breezes and the beauty of Italy.”

“
Here’s to you, Frank, for helping to get me out of the damn drama of my life.”

They both downed their glasses quickly. Millet raised his eyebrows and picked up the bottle. “Another?”

***

The S.S.
Berlin
was the second ship by that name owned by the North German Lloyd Line. The first S.S.
Berlin
sank off the coast of Holland in 1907, killing 142 people. The new S.S.
Berlin
was a two funnel, state-of-the-art liner with a capacity for 3,212 passengers, most of whom traveled in third class. Archie and Frank Millet were among the 200 first class passengers who had their own exclusive dining room, promenade deck and lounges.

The first morning at sea Archie rose early and took a stroll, starting along the first class deck then descending to the promenade. He walked along its length, stopping near the bow to lean over the railing. Peering down at the water, Archie became mesmerized by the small white waves slapping against the boat’s hull. A cold ocean spray misted over his face. He felt his body relax. It had been so long, years maybe, since he had experienced such calm. Then, through the wash of water, he thought he heard a voice calling him. “Captain,” the voice cried, thin and distant. He wasn’t sure if he was imagining it or not. “Captain,” the voice called again. Archie turned and saw a small figure dressed in a suit, approach. “Henry?” Archie said in disbelief.

“
Hiya, Captain,” Henry said through an enormous grin. “Surprised to see me?”

More than surprised, Archie was in shock. “What are you doing here?”

“
Sailin’ to Italy, like you,” Henry answered, reveling in Archie’s bafflement.

“
Did you stowaway, Henry? Because if you did, I will have to turn you in.”

“
Aw, you wouldn’t do that.”

“
Yes, of course I would. It’s against the law to sneak on board and stowaway.”

“
But I wanted to go to Italy with you,” Henry said, trying hard to suppress his glee.

“
I’m sorry, Henry, but I’m going to have to take you to the ship’s authorities.” Archie reached out and took Henry’s small wrist.

“
But Captain,” Henry said, starting to laugh, “I got a ticket.”

“
How could you have gotten a ticket?”

“
I bought one.”

“
With money?!”

“
Yeah, with money,” Henry said. “I always have ways to get money if I have to.”

Archie shook his head, not sure whether to believe Henry or not. “Why did you leave me in New York?” Archie asked.

“’
Cause you wanted me to. You didn’t want to take me to Italy.”

“
Then why are you here?”

“’
Cause you need me.”

“
I don’t need you, Henry.”

“
Yeah you do.”

“
Why in the world would you say that?”

“
Well, com’on to my cabin and find out,” Henry said with a calm certainty.

Descending to the third class section was like entering another world, a mysterious nether-universe whose existence was unknown to those traveling in first-class. Here the ceiling was low and the hallway narrow. It reminded Archie of the ships on which he transported horses to the Philippines. He peered into the tight sleeping berths teeming with a stew of immigrants leaving America, having failed to find their pot of gold.

“
This way, Captain,” Henry said, leading Archie into his tight cabin. Five bunks were squeezed into the claustrophobic room. Henry went to his lower bunk and ruffled the blanket then reached under the pillow. He removed what seemed to be a large, square lump of coal and held it out to Archie as if he was presenting the Holy Grail. “For you, Captain.”

“
Thank you, Henry. But what is it?”

“
Mick’s diary,” Henry said solemnly.

“
How do you know? It’s burnt to a crisp.”

“
Yeah. I found it in the rubble and I guess it got kinda baked.”

Archie took the book and carefully turned it over. The binding was blistered. Archie gingerly opened the cover. The pages were intact, but charred black and as delicate as dried leaves. “I couldn’t read it if I wanted to, Henry.”