Unsinkable (13 page)

                                ******

When most of the gentlemen at their table had retired to the smoking room, Beckett and Carrington remained at the table with Molly and Warren. Alice and Rose had gone to their own cabins, as had Mrs. Astor.

“Just a few more days on
Titanic,
” Molly observed. “And then back to real life, right?”

“What do you do in real life, Molly?” Beckett asked. She was so different from the other women he knew that were her age.

“You mean when I’m not crawling around in pyramids and having eleven course dinners with the social elite?”

“Yes,” Beckett said.

“I do whatever needs to be done, I guess. I fought for the suffragette movement and try to find ways to help the poor and unfortunate. I kinda think everyone deserves to be treated right. But I do like to explore new things too. I have a bit of a wanderlust in my soul, I guess.”

 “Sounds better than working day after day in a stuffy old bank.” Beckett said.

“So are you taking that position that’s waiting for you?”

“How do you know about that?”

“Sweetheart everyone knows about that,” Molly said.

“If I take it, Dad will be happy and maybe he’ll give me some time to follow Carrington around on her explorations.”

“And what about your book?”

Beckett took Carrington’s hand in his. “I don’t know if I’m finishing the book I was writing. It was getting a little too personal. But maybe somewhere I can find a publishable story. Maybe I’ll find it in Egypt or the south of France, or somewhere we go.”

“I’m thinking of trying to get Mr. Brown to go back to Egypt with me,” Molly said. “Heck, we could even sponsor one of those concessions myself if I wanted too. What do you say Carrington?”

“If you’re going, Molly, then so am I,” Carrington said. She cast a glance at Beckett. “That’s okay, isn’t it Beckett?”

“It’s okay for all of you,” Warren said. “But where does all this leave me?”

“You don’t have a plan, Warren?” Carrington asked.

“It may surprise you, Carrington, but not everyone has their life all planned out for them. My family is well off enough to have gotten me educated properly, but unlike Beck I haven’t had a job waiting since birth. My being in first class aboard this ship is strictly thanks to Jackson’s generosity and the fact that he thinks I’m a good influence on Beckett.”

 “Maybe he’ll find a place for you.” Beckett said. Maybe I will.”

“Since that’s all settled,” Molly said with a twinkle in her eye. “Who’s up for a round of cards?”

“Molly!” Warren said. “A lady doesn’t play cards with gentlemen.”

“Who ever said I was a lady?” she asked. Warren reached in his pocket for his ever present deck of cards and dealt them all in.

                                      ******

Jack Phillips had received yet another ice warning, this time from the
Mesaba
. Still buried in messages he needed to send, he set it aside.

The
Titanic
continued to move ahead at 22 knots, as the temperature dropped. Frederick Fleet and Reginald

Lee engaged in small talk and looked for ice.

“There’s some out there,” Lee said. “Too cold for there not to be.”

“I guess they think we can pass right by. The ship’s unsinkable, right?”

“Still, he said to watch for it. See anything?”

Lee shrugged. “Some mist on the horizon, that’s all.”

Inside, Jack Phillips received yet another ice warning, this time for the
Californian
, who reported that the ice was so bad they had stopped until morning. Phillips looked at the stack of messages he had yet to send and angrily responded. “Shut up, shut up about the ice already! You’re jamming my signal and I’m busy here.”

                                   *******

Beckett walked Carrington to her door. They’d left Molly and Warren still playing cards with Molly winning.

“So we settled everything?” Beckett asked in her ear as he held her close.

“Maybe not
everything
,” she whispered. “But I know I love you.”

He took her hands in his face and started to kiss her again. “Come inside,” she whispered.

“No.” He kissed her. “Last night I was working on a script. I’m not doing that tonight.” Another kiss.

“It wasn’t wonderful?”

His lips left hers and traveled to caress her ear, then slid down to kiss her neck and her collarbone.

“It was. But Dad is right sometimes, and this isn’t the time or place. The next time it happens we’ll know it had nothing to do with
Titanic
or my book.” He kissed again, and again, as if he couldn’t get enough. He wanted to go inside her cabin. He wanted to stay all night. She wanted that too, he knew it from the way she responded to him.

He forced them apart. “You could so easily seduce me,

Carrington. It would take so little encouragement for me to stay with you again tonight. Go on. I’m going to my own cabin. Alone. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Beckett…” She reached for him again.

His hand caressed her face, he smiled tenderly at her, but he didn’t come closer, didn’t kiss her, and then he was gone.

                               *******

Frederick Fleet thought he might fall asleep right there in the crow’s nest. It was late, going on midnight he suspected. And then, looming ahead, he saw it. And enormous iceberg right in their path. He reached quickly for the phone that called the bridge. When Sixth Officer Moody answered it, Fleet yelled “Iceberg! Iceberg right ahead!”

First Officer Will Murdoch set things in motion. The engine room was told to stop and the crew tried to turn the massive boat hard to the starboard side as ordered. When the iceberg hit, the ship gave a shudder and stopped. Murdoch raced to close the water tight doors. Then he returned to the deck and stared at the iceberg.

“Good Lord, Will, what have we struck?’ EJ Smith stood behind him.

“An iceberg, Captain,” Will Murdoch said.

 “You closed the watertight doors?”

“I did Captain, but I have no way of knowing how many compartments filled.”

“Send Mr. Boxhall down to inspect the hull and get Mr. Ismay and Mr. Andrews up here at once.”

“Yes, sir.”

Captain Smith stood on the bridge of his ship as the officers hurried to follow his commands. No need to panic, he told himself. The ship was seaworthy and not going to sink. This was nothing more than a minor setback. At best they would lose a few hours’ time.

He tried to believe his own words as he waited for the assessment of damages.

For fifteen minutes Officer Boxhall inspected the hull. Fifteen minutes that seemed to those on the bridge of the
Titanic
that seemed like fifteen hours. Bruce Ismay had come to the bridge in his silk dressing gown and slippers. Thomas Andrews was still dressed in his evening attire.

“The ship cannot possibly damaged to the point where we cannot continue to sail,” Ismay said.

“Anything is possible until we know more, Mr. Ismay,” Thomas Andrews said.

“You were supposed to have built an unsinkable ship,” Ismay said angrily.

“No ship is truly unsinkable Mr. Ismay. We build them of iron, which
will
sink if it fills with water.”

“What about all your watertight compartments? Wasn’t that going to be the thing that kept us afloat no matter what?”

“If no more than four are filled we will stay afloat.” Andrews said. “I suggest before we panic that we wait and see what Mr. Boxhall discovers.”

Boxhall was nearly out of breath when he arrived back at the bridge. He’d run back to report his finding. “Orlop deck flooded, sir. Forward of the number four compartment.”

EJ Smith turned to Andrews. “Inspect the damage if you please Mr. Andrews. And quickly, I am sure I don’t need to stress that.”

“Are the passengers aware that anything has happened?” Ismay tightened the belt of his dressing gown.

“A few up on deck,” Murdoch replied, “but it appears this has gone unnoticed by most of them.”

“Have everyone tell them nothing has happened,” Ismay ordered.

“But something has happened, Mr. Ismay,” Murdoch said, glancing at Captain Smith.

“Bruce is right, Will. We need to make sure no one panics. Mr. Boxhall, have the deck crew assure the passengers if they ask that all is well.”

Smith walked out on deck where a few young men were tossing around chunks of ice that had fallen there from the iceberg. Again he told himself that his last voyage would not end in disaster. Mentally he counted the number of people they could put in the lifeboats.

N
ot
enough lifeboats for all the souls on board,
he thought.
We put them at risk for aesthetic reasons. We cancelled the lifeboat drill.
He couldn’t let his thoughts go there right now. He needed to remain calm and in control. Surely Andrews would return with positive news.

                                   ******

A knock at his door woke Beckett. He had fallen asleep at the desk, trying to work out a direction for a new novel. The book lay on the desk, closed. He had been scribbling on a stray sheet of paper. He stood and went to the door and opened it.

“Warren, what time is it?”

“Nearly midnight. Have you noticed the ship isn’t moving?”

“I hadn’t but I fell asleep. What’s happened?”

“Molly and I were about to go to our cabins when the boat kind of made a shudder and then stopped. We’ve hit an iceberg.”

“Are you sure?”

“I went out on deck and saw it. There’s huge pieces of ice on the deck and a bunch of kids out kicking it around.”

Beckett stopped a white jacketed porter. “Excuse me, what’s going on?”

“Nothing to worry about sir. Everything is under control and we should be underway again soon.”