The Titanic sank in the North Atlantic at 2:20 a.m. local time on April 15th, 1912. It is known as the worst sea disaster in modern history, and has been immortalized in many movies and books. Here is yet another story, in memory of the many people who died that night.
A couple nights ago, while chatting with a long-distance friend, I watched the clock tick past the exact moment of the 100th anniversary. And then, ideas struck. We brainstormed a little and decided to co-write a story. But this isn’t a typical collaboration. This is the same tale told from two different perspectives. Here is my half of the story. To read the one by my friend, click here: By Starlight – a tale of the Titanic, Stella’s Perspective
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I twist in my narrow bunk, unable to sleep. Several times this night I have begun to slip into exhausted sleep, only to be awoken once again by a flood of memories.
My roommate mumbles a few words in a drunken slur, letting me know he doesn’t appreciate my late-night activity. When he staggered in at about midnight, I thought him drunk enough that he wouldn’t be bothered. Such is not the case.
I climb down and slip on my shoes, looking with some disgust at the drooling face of the man. He young fellow from York, I a bankrupt businessman from London; we made our acquaintance by the sole reason of both being solo passengers on this ship.
I leave the cabin and stretch my legs with a brisk walk toward the dining room. Few people are awake this time of night, most of the men most likely to be up have all passed out, full of liquor.
I climb the stairways, avoiding any people I see and always heading up. One thing I like about being up at this hour, it’s much easier to sneak all the way up to the first-class decks.
I’m not a large man, rather short and slender. I tread silently and climb all the way to the highest deck, where the frigid but calm wind plays with my hair, and the dark sky twinkles with stars. Here I feel awake, better than the half-dazed restlessness of my bunk.
I stand at the railing, staring out across the sea. In the east, the sky is just beginning to lighten, a faint shade of blue pushing against the black.
Soon it will be dawn on April 14th, 1912.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I wonder why I ever thought this voyage would let me start over. Sunday drags on and I ignore the scattered worship services some people have put together. A preacher with a kind face and eloquent words has gathered a crowd of children around him. I just see my father, and turn away.
Thousands of miles from my home, I only find myself thinking more and more about family. What I lost and what I left. America still looks promising, like a gritty paradise carved out of wilderness. I can hear my old schoolteacher’s voice still, her admiration for the young country that grew so fast. And with it, just a hint of my childish innocent wonder.
It’s foolish, son, thinking a nation across the sea holds more opportunity than your own native land. God put you here; this is where you belong.
That would be my father. I still hear him, dispensing his wisdom in the powerful and grave baritone distinctive to the rich, overweight businessmen of upper London.
But you were wrong, father. I tried, and I failed. I failed you, and the family, the company…hell, I even failed God.
I’ll probably fail as much in America as ever. Every hour brings a new image to my mind of living without a home, walking from town to town, looking for work and begging for food. I’ve fallen a long way from the elite class of my father.
In an effort to distract myself from the looming past and accusing voices, I make my way to the bar and have a few drinks, and end up playing chess with a gnarled old sailor. He doesn’t speak much, just puffs on his cigar and watches the board with one eyebrow perpetually cocked upward.
“Sure you want to move there?” he says, the longest sentence since he asked if I wanted to play.
I stare at the queen under my finger for a moment, and then let go. He takes her with a rook.
I capture the rook with my one remaining knight. “Checkmate.”
Both bristly gray eyebrows are up now, and he nods slowly. “Aye, well played, mate. You were so protective of her, I never thought you’d give her up. Missed that move. I must be getting old.”
Never thought I’d give her up. Isn’t that the story of my life.
I shake hands with the sailor and move on, but not before he has a chance to impose upon me the knowledge of his name. That is, Benjamin Paul.
By late evening I’m tired, but I don’t go to bed tonight. There isn’t much point; might as well let my roommate sleep in peace while I pace the hallways. I get dragged into a short conversation with a talkative middle-aged woman whose daughter’s husband had just been caught by his brother sneaking off with a laundry girl, while his sister fancied a crewman with blue eyes. All of it very much unneeded information, thank you, and more than my poor mind wants to accept at this late hour. I excuse myself as gracefully as possible, wondering if I could manage a book or if I need to just beat my head against the wall until I crumple to the floor.
It must be near midnight, when a shock passes through the ship and I’m thrown against the wall. In a nearby cabin something made of glass shatters on the floor, and a man curses.
I sit up, dazed and with a bump on my forehead, still feeling the floor rocking beneath me. People come out of their rooms, some wrapped in bathrobes, all of them with the same question on their faces.
What just happened?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Several minutes later people are gathering in the dining room. Some insist that the ship is listing, others are drunk enough to suggest it’s their imagination and go back to bed. I stand silent in the corner, listening.
And then the news finally makes its way through; the ship has struck an iceberg, and lifeboats are being loaded with first and second class passengers.
“Lifeboats?” someone shouts, and chaos begins.
The religious say prayers to their God, others take his name in vain. Several men head up the stairs, and moments later in the distance I hear shouting and more curses. One man comes tumbling back down.
God put you here, my father’s voice says. Here in England.
I slide to the floor and bite my lip. No word has come on how bad the damage is, but if they’re loading lifeboats…
It’s become obvious that the bow is sinking, the floor now having an angle making it hard to walk. I stand up and move along the wall, ignoring the hysterical press of people around me. I’ll go back to my room, gather my things, and then try to determine if there is real danger, and if so, how I can get off the ship.
I’m almost to the door when the ship lists again and a young woman loses her balance and falls toward me. Almost without thinking I reach out to steady her, and catch her in my arms.
She jumps away with a surprised ‘Oh!’ and looks up at me, a bit of a scared look in her eyes.
“Hullo, young lady,” I say, looking her over. “You all right?”
She looks like Jayne…
No, you moron, every pretty young girl looks like Jayne. To you. Stop it.
“Yes,” she mumbles. “Yes, I’m fine.” She glances back toward the hallway she just came in from, and then gives me a quick look before directing her gaze downward. “Is it true? Are we…are we sinking?”
She’s a maid, I figure, judging from her apron and her indirect manners. Stands about as high as my chin, which isn’t very tall, and she has her plain brown hair pulled back in a bun. If she’s any older than twenty, I’d be surprised.
“I would assume so, if they’re loading the lifeboats.”
She nods, and I watch the color leaving her face. She whispers to herself, something that sounds like ‘there aren’t enough…’
“Are you with anybody?” I ask.
“No. I work on board. I’m no passenger.”
I raise my eyebrows a bit. I was right. “Maid?”
“Laundry girl, more like.”
At that moment a couple burly men charge in from the hallway and nearly run us over. I grab the girl by both shoulders and yank her out of the way. She twists away from me and backs against the wall.
“Watch it, idiots!” I shout at the men, then turn back to the girl. “I’m getting out of this madhouse. People are liable to get hurt in here.”
She nods toward the crowd. “Why aren’t you panicking, like they are?”
I take a moment to feel my heart pounding. “Oh, I’m panicking all right. In my own apathetic way.” I head for the door. “You coming? This place isn’t safe.”
The girl scowls at the floor. “Coming? To where? The rich get all the lifeboats. The passengers.”
I stop and backtrack a couple steps. “You mean…” I glare at the noisy, growing crowd. “I’m a passenger, you know. I hate noise…come along.”
She follows, taking a few quick steps to catch up. “If you’re thinking that I mean I’ll die if the ship sinks, then yeah. I’m part of the crew. I’m Stella…not that it matters at the moment…”
I sense she’s asking for my name. “Luke,” I say. I lean a little closer to her as we walk down the hallway. “You said earlier that ‘there aren’t enough.’”
She gives me a quick glance.
I tap my ear. “Yes, I heard it. What was that about?”
Another large man comes rushing along, and we part to let him by. Seems like everybody on this ship is twice as big as me. I feel so puny.
Stella’s voice is quiet, barely audible when she speaks. “Lifeboats. There aren’t enough of them for everybody. I work here; I’ve been around. I know.”
I stop walking, finally feeling a bit of the panic that’s probably running rampant on the ship by now. “Not enough? Damn, the arrogant bastards. Unsinkable? Yeah, right. I didn’t believe it, but I didn’t think—”
I realize how frightened Stella looks and cut myself off. Anger won’t help us now.
“Not enough,” she says with a shudder. “Not nearly enough. So the first class, maybe part of the second, will make it off the ship. The rest of us will…uh…drown.”
I stand there, silent for a moment, listening to the distant commotion; all the third class passengers fighting for their lives. I begin to understand them. I would join them, but I have no heart for it. Seems my father was right all along. I wasn’t meant to go to America.
“What did we even hit, that is big enough to sink this ship?” Stella’s voice is a whisper now.
I shake myself out of the past, just as another quote from my father hits me. “Oh…there were rumors going around about there being icebergs in our course. That’s why the captain changed it a little to the south. Not far enough, I guess.”
In the end, all that matters is that you fight for something good.
My father again. How is that quote even connected to icebergs? I must be going insane. He said that as he lay dying of pneumonia. And he was talking about his business, not his family.
Family.
Stella seems to be doing everything she can to avoid looking at me. She has her back to the wall, and looks tense, like she’s about ready to run away and hide in a dark corner. I raise my hand and gently touch her shoulder.
“Hey, don’t think about dying,” I say. “Talk about something else. Do you have family back in England? Or America?”
She flinches away from my hand. “What’s the point? What does it matter? That won’t change anything.” Then she shakes her head. “I’m sorry.”
For the first time in weeks, I find a clear goal in front of me. There’s actually something good to fight for. I’ve got a pistol in my luggage, loaded with a single bullet that several times I’ve almost put through my head. The only thing that stopped me was a vain hope that I still had some purpose.
Maybe this is it. I hold out my hand to the girl.
“I think I know a way we can get to the upper decks. You’re not dead yet, Stella.”
Neither is Lucas Clay. Despite his wishes to the contrary.
She chews her lip, tilting her head to the side. “Well…seems like it will be the same either way.”
“Funny, seems like I’d be the gloomy one here.”
She takes my hand, and I head down the hall with her, nearly running. I adjust my pace to allow her to keep up without tripping.
“How’s that?” she asks.
“Er…never mind.”
We turn a corner and I pull her through a doorway into the galley. At this late hour, sinking or no, the place is always deserted, and dimly lit by light from the hallway. There’s a narrow spiral staircase that allows the crew to climb several levels up from this kitchen.
“Never mind, eh?” Stella mutters. “Guess we all have our ghosts.”
“Ghosts are just figments of imagination.” I release her hand and open the door. “This stairway goes up a ways. I found it while wandering the place a few nights ago.”
We start up the dark stairs, me in the lead and her a few steps behind.
“There are different kinds of ghosts,” she says. Her voice echoes, and I can hear her breathing getting heavier. “At least…the kind I’m talking about die with you.”
We’re about halfway up when I hear a slam behind me, and a whimper. I stop and turn around. Stella sinks onto a step, holding her shin.
“Oh why am I doing this…it’s pointless…”
I head back down and stop right above her. She’s gone silent, but I can see her trembling. Moving slowly, I sit on the step beside her. I clear my throat, but she doesn’t look up.
“My father…” I begin in a soft voice, “…he was a businessman. Very successful. When you’re that high up in society, you form some really strong, bullheaded opinions.” I chuckle a bit, a doomed attempt to relieve some stress. “There was one saying I think was his favorite. Whenever I’d change my mind about something, or ask what he thought of a new idea, he’d look at me with his critical eye and say, ‘Son, you succeed by setting your mind to something and sticking at it. Doubt kills.’”
She doesn’t respond, but I hear a faint sniffle.
My fingertips feel dry as I rub them together. “And now, I find myself on this ship, doubting everything I ever did.”
Stella sits up straighter and rubs her hands over her knees. “That’s all good when you have a chance. But now…” She glances at me and shakes her head, blinking as if tears threaten to pour down her cheeks.
I lean back on my elbows. “Yeah, might as well just sit here and wait to drown. Ah well. Would’ve been nice to at least get to the top and see the stars one last time.”
A half smile pulls at her lips now, fighting to be seen through all the fear. “You’re trying to guilt me.”
I pat her shoulder with a trembling hand. “I’ve just…been thinking a lot since I met you downstairs. It’s been, what, ten minutes? But I think I figured out something.”
Her smile is gone; she hunches her shoulders. “What?”
I stand up with a sigh. “Come with me, and I’ll tell you.”
“All right, fine.” She follows.
I think a moment about how to word this, as I’m not really sure about it either. Then I begin talking as we climb.
“See, once I realized we were sinking, I had to think about the possibility that I might die.”
You mean, die by circumstances beyond your control. A lot different than taking your own life, isn’t it?
“Maybe it’s just my father’s accusing voice in my head,” I say. “But if that’s what is going to happen, I don’t want to die just sitting around and moping about it. I’d rather go out fighting. At least I could say I tried.” I let out a strained chuckle at that. “Not sure who I’d say that to. God or the devil.”
“I hope you’d say it to God…” Stella is mumbling again. “I…I’m okay with dying, I think. There’s nobody who would miss me.”
“I’m rather fuzzy on the details of my afterlife sentencing.” I turn around and look her in the eye. “Now why would you say that? Should I believe you have not a single friend or family member alive in the world?”
“I…no, I haven’t one. I had two, my aunt and my cousin. He was in the army; went missing in India two years ago. Auntie Kate died a few months back.” She pushes past me and crosses her arms. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
“Ah…I’m sorry.”
I hurry up; soon we reach the top of the stairs, and a door. I push it open and peer out, into the deserted first class galley. Outside, on the decks, the shouts and cries of hundreds of terrified people fill the air.
“Here we are,” I say. “Goodness, it sounds like a huge tavern brawl out there.”
We pass through the galley and the dining area, and after a few minutes find a door leading out to the decks.
“I can hear the band playing,” Stella says.
I open the door and look outside. People pack the decks, shoving, shouting, some even fighting. All of them wanting a spot in a lifeboat. So many will be left behind, it seems…
I reach back toward Stella. “Take hold of my hand and don’t let go.”
She does, but her grip is weak, uncertain. “Luke…so what if I should fall and be trampled? It’s not going to change the outcome.”
I shut the door and pull her face to face with me. “Listen. I found something to fight for that matters. For the past four days I’ve been wandering the ship aimlessly. Depressed, full of regrets. I just need to do something worthwhile before I die. And that is getting you on a lifeboat. Let me fight for that.”
Stella bites her lip again, looking like she might burst into tears and fall into my arms. Which might be every guy’s dream but it won’t help us right now. She nods and grips my hand.
“I’m…sorry,” she whispers.
“I just hate to see anybody so young give up on life. I’ve…seen it before.”
Yeah, and it was my fault too.
I wince and pull open the door again, and we venture out on the deck. Stella keeps glancing at me, like she wants to ask a question. I stop watching her and pay attention to our surroundings.
People are everywhere, frantic men, women, and children. They push by us, and we have to move with the flow to avoid being trampled. How can we get through this multitude and reach the boats? They look so far away now.
I use my slender size to my advantage, weaving through the crowd and dragging Stella along with me. She tries to stick close, and my hand is getting sore from her tight grip. Hang on, girl.
Another lifeboat is launched. It’s not even full! What are they doing? In my haste I shove past a man who’s at least a full head taller than I am. He grabs Stella by the shoulders and pulls her back. Her sweaty hand slips out of mine.
“Whoa there, kids,” the man growls.
I grab his arm and try to shove him back. “Get your hands off her!”
Stella is twisting and kicking, though it doesn’t do much good. “Hey!” she shouts. “Lay off!”
The big man shakes his head. “My wife and kids here are getting on a boat first. What’s this, a maid? You two aren’t first class at all!”
The laundry girl stops struggling, a scowl on her face.
“Does it matter?” I shout. “We’re still people. Let her go.”
He shoves her aside and grabs me, driving me backward until I crash into the wall. My head hits so hard my vision goes black for a second, and then fuzzy.
“Ow…” I moan.
Stella jumps at the man and pounds his back with her fists. “Let him go! He’s just trying to help me!” Her voice is choked.
“Wait your turn, kid,” the large man says, staring me in the eye. “Like everybody else.”
A nearby crewman hollers, “Oi, stop fighting! That won’t help anyone. Please try to stay calm…”
A little late there, friend.
My attacker pushes me at Stella, and we both crash to the deck. I land face down beneath her, smashing my nose and mouth into the rough boards, and she rolls off me. Somebody trips over us and I try to scramble away before I’m trampled, while blindly groping for Stella’s hand. I can’t find her. People surround me, rushing by. One steps on my fingers and I gasp.
I spot an opening and lurch in the direction of the door we came through. Finally! There’s the girl, curled up on a small bench by the wall and sobbing. I drag myself up beside her, too dizzy to stand. Blood drips from my face to my arm. I wipe it off with my other hand.
“You all right, Stella?”
She nods, holding back her crying. “You’re bleeding…here…” She pulls off her apron and hands it to me.
The ship lists even more; I hear splashes and screams, as people and objects fall overboard.
I wipe the blood from my face and throw aside the apron. “There’s a door…a few yards down,” I say. “Let’s get back inside and think about this more. Maybe there are less people on the other side of the ship.”
“Luke, there won’t be any less—”
She breaks off, hearing a crewman shout, “One more spot on the last boat!”
I grab her arm and drag her into the melee again, toward the railing. “Come on!” I cry.
She stumbles along with me. “Coming! Don’t pull me over.”
The entire crowd is competing for that one spot. Men below fight each other like animals, the crowd presses forward, threatening to spill over the railing.
“A lady or two children only!” the man hollers. “You hear that?”
I stand on tiptoe to see over the crowd and wave my arm. “Here!” I scream, but it’s lost in the clamor.
We reach the railing and I lean over. “Look, Stella, you can climb down here…”
I trail off, watching the commotion around the lifeboat. She presses close by my side.
“No,” she says. “I…can’t…”
I turn to see her gesture at a couple children nearby.
No. She can’t. I can’t save her. Unless…
“That big fellow’s kids got the spot anyway,” I say, putting my arm around her shoulders to hold her close. “They said it’s the last boat, but that’s on this side. There might be more on the other side.”
I said it too loud. Everyone around me starts spreading the rumor, and shouts of ‘More boats on the other side of the ship!’ echo down the line. Everyone changes course, all of them intent on getting there first.
“It’s okay,” Stella says, giving me a small smile. She looks like she’s trying very hard for it. “Those kids…they need it more than I do.”
I don’t know what to say. We cross the deck again and go back inside, where I slump to the floor and lean back against the wall, holding my aching head.
Stella sits beside me and touches my arm. “Thank you for trying,” she says.
A tear slides down my cheek and I mumble, “I failed you. Just like I failed my parents and my friends and the girl I loved—I shouldn’t have got your hopes up for nothing. Stupid…stupid…”
“But, you tried, and…” She pauses and takes a deep breath. “And you gave me a friend, even if just for a short time.”
“A friend? Really?”
Before she replies, there’s an explosive sound outside, like a building crashing to the ground, and the ship tilts even more so that we begin sliding along the floor, down the long hallway.
Stella slams into me with a small shriek, arms flailing. I try to find something to hang onto, but find nothing. We crash into a corner, me on the bottom, and I feel something in my chest snap. I shove her off me and sit up with a groan.
We sit there a moment, shoulder to shoulder, and then relax. We’re not going to slide any farther.
“Y-yes,” Stella says. Her voice is shaky. “A friend. You know, since my aunt died, I’ve been so lonely and thought I never wanted another friend again because I hate losing people.” She starts crying. “I made myself rude and cynical to keep people away, but I think being lonely is worse.”
I shift a little and stabbing pain shoots through my chest and I slump against the wall. “Ow…yeah, I’d say so. It’s deadly…loneliness is. Uh…I think I broke something.”
“You did? Oh dear, will you be…”
She trails off and I give a dry chuckle. “I’ll be fine, yes. As soon as I…never mind. I don’t really know if I will be fine afterward, anyway.”
“Make sure you will be,” Stella whispers.
The ship groans as it lists further. The front half must be completely submerged. I wonder how many people have already drowned. I’ll be joining their number soon. I’m not ready…
Another stab of pain. I wince and rest my head on Stella’s shoulder. “You’re sure about it?” I ask. “How can you be?”
She’s silent a moment. “Um…ever since my cousin went missing, I’ve been too angry to be sure. But to be sure, you have to confess that Jesus is the son of God, believe that God resurrected him, and ask forgiveness for your sin.”
I have…a long time ago.
Our little corner of the ship seems so far from everything else, almost like we’re safe. The noise of the crowds outside is distant, the listing of the ship not a problem as we sit secure in the corner of two walls and the floor. If only…
“I’ve always been a failure, sweetheart,” I sigh. “My own father was reluctant to give me his business when he died, and for a good reason. I failed. Went bankrupt, and decided to follow a childhood dream and go to America. Look where that got me. My mother won’t speak to me anymore, either. I lost everything her husband worked for his whole life. She was always the one who loved me. If she can’t forgive me, nobody can.” I pause for a couple painful breaths. “If she could see me now…I can just hear her saying ‘I told you so.’ Neither of my parents ever approved of my desire of going to America.”
Stella finds my hand on the floor and holds it with both of hers. “God is rather in the business of forgiving failures,” she says in a borderline whisper. “If you’re human, you’re a failure.”
“Maybe, but you haven’t heard half of it. The girl I loved? I didn’t love her. I liked her. Big difference, and I learned it the hard way. She…grew up with an abusive father. Little did I know that during our shallow romance, she was giving up on life. She killed herself a day before her seventeenth birthday. Left me a note, said she felt worthless and unloved and couldn’t take it anymore.”
“I’m so sorry…”
“So am I, Stella. I can’t forgive myself.”
She nods. “I’ve been so angry…and I knew the answers but I ignored them. So I’m the last person you should be talking to about this. I just know, even if you’ve given up on yourself, He hasn’t given up on you.”
“Oh, I knew the answers too. Mum is Irish, a strong Catholic. Can’t say I went for all their ideas, but…yes, I believed it one time. I suppose now is the time to believe it again.”
“Yes…for both of us.”
I half smile. “So after…after this is all over. We’ll meet again, won’t we?”
“Yes, we will.”
We sit in silence for a moment, listening to the still distant sounds that tell us it’s still real. The ship is still sinking.
“You know,” I say. “I just thought of something. Most nights I’ve been sneaking up to the highest deck and watching the stars, because I couldn’t sleep. Stella means star, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah, I think so.” She smiles at that.
“Maybe it seems childish, but I’ve always liked the stars. Can’t see them from in here, though.” I stare up at the ceiling.
Stella gets up, unsteady on her feet, and holds out her hand. “Shall we go see them one last time?”
I nod and get on my hands and knees, struggling despite the pain to stand up. She grabs my arm and hauls me upright, and I lean on her shoulder. Sweat beads up on my forehead and I gasp for air.
“You can make it,” she says.
“This is ironic,” I mutter.
“Quite,” she says with a tiny chuckle.
We stagger up the steep hallway to the nearest door and open it. Outside the deck is more slippery, and we slide along until we hit the railing and cling to it.
“Oh gosh,” Stella gasps, looking down.
I grab her wrist with one hand and wrap my other arm around the railing. “Steady, hang on.”
The band is still playing.
A shudder passes through the deck and I hear the awful sound of a ship being torn in half. In the last few moments I see the bow break away and plunge underwater. Then all the lights go out and we fall. Fast.
Stella squeezes her eyes shut and breathes in short gasps.
“See you soon, sweetheart,” I say. “I’m glad you found me.”
She clings to me, letting go of the railing. “Thanks for everything,” she forces out. “You’re not a failure.”
In an instant the icy water surrounds us, muffling the sounds of the dying ship. I feel the pressure grow as we go deeper, deeper, deeper…
