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
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
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