On a Cold Dark Sea(72)
Anna cradles the oar in her lap, feeling helpless. She has always been proud of her ability to take on hard work without complaint; gifted with neither beauty nor charm, it is her only advantage. Now her stiff fingers cannot even grasp the handle. It doesn’t matter anyway, because the others have put down their oars, and the boat bobs aimlessly. Anna tries to move her toes, but her extremities will not comply. She pulls her feet up and realizes they are still soaking wet. No wonder they haven’t thawed: there is a layer of water at the bottom of the boat.
The Armstrong women look annoyed by the cries for help, as if they were a personal affront. Nurse Braxton hovers over Mrs. Dunning, her own patient’s discomfort taking priority over the suffering of the nameless. Mrs. Trelawny’s mouth has condensed into a thin, straight line, and she is holding her children tight. Eva’s eyes wander, as she stealthily follows each observation and disagreement, but Tommy stares down at his lap, hands pressed over his ears. Charlie is on edge, a man of action frustrated at not being able to do anything. Esme tries to catch his attention, but he is preoccupied by the noise; like Mr. Healy, he stares out at the water. He’s handsome even when he’s sad, Esme thinks, and wishes she could kiss him. Blot out all this misery by burrowing into the one thing she’s certain of: Charlie’s love.
Charlotte and Mr. Healy exchange glances. She is not sure why—their Britishness, the working-class accents they both try so studiously to hide—but she feels a kinship with him. His steadiness reassures her, and though she hardly knows the man, she trusts him to do the right thing.
“Do you see anyone?” Charlotte asks.
“Not yet. It’s hard to be sure, in the dark.” Then, hesitantly, as if he already knows the answer but feels compelled to ask anyway, “Are you traveling with your husband, Mrs. Evers?”
“Yes.” A lie. “He has business interests in America.” Another lie. Charlotte has never been much concerned with telling the truth, but it feels wrong to mislead this decent man.
“I’m sorry,” Mr. Healy says quietly, offering silent condolences.
He doesn’t know Reg, Charlotte thinks, indignant. Reg will find a way.
The cries for help continue, but they have become distinct, separate sounds. Solos instead of a symphony.
“It’s thinned out,” Mr. Healy says.
Which Charlotte immediately understands to mean: Enough people have died that we won’t be overrun. “What shall we do?” she asks.
“Our duty,” Mr. Healy says. Then, to the boat, he announces, “I can hear voices, quite close. It won’t take much effort to find them.”
Charlotte takes up her oar and verifies that it’s tucked in the oarlock. Mr. Healy makes similar preparations. He looks to Charlie, who nods.
“Ready, Mr. Wells?” Mr. Healy asks.
The fireman drops his oar with a defiant clatter. “I’m not going in there.”
“Do you think . . . ?” Mrs. McBride delicately allows the unspoken part of her question to linger. Do you think there’s any point?
“It’d be going against Captain’s orders,” Mr. Wells says.
A deliberate provocation, intended to sow doubt in their commander’s abilities. Mr. Healy tries to keep his voice level. “What do you mean?”
“We were told to row for the other ship.”
No use hiding it from the passengers now. “I never saw lights,” Mr. Healy says. “I don’t think it ever turned up.”
“Aren’t we supposed to stay close to the other lifeboats, then?”
“Yes, and where are they? Will you chart a course for us to find them, Mr. Wells?”
Esme tries not to worry. She was certain when the lifeboat launched that they’d be rescued any minute, yet Mr. Healy is right. There’s been no sign of another ship, and the other lifeboats have disappeared. They are drifting, alone, in the middle of the sea. The enormity of all that water terrifies her, and the boat suddenly seems horridly flimsy and open; one large wave could wash them all overboard. Esme pulls her coat more tightly around her chest, stroking the fur, telling herself she mustn’t lose control in front of Charlie.
A strained cry hurtles through the dark. Charlotte feels the force of it, like a punch. It’s a man’s voice, deep. Could it be Reg? It’s ridiculous to think that he of all people would make it to this particular boat, but the suspicion takes hold and digs in. He could have watched her lifeboat from the deck and swum toward it when the ship sank. Wouldn’t that be just like him?
“Turn around!” Charlotte shouts. She twists back and forth, trying to grab everyone’s attention, her body skittish with hope. “There’s someone behind us!”
Anna scrambles to retrieve the oar tossed aside by Mr. Wells. She doesn’t know how it’s possible, but Emil is out there. She heard him, clearly, and that means she has been given a second chance to save him.
“Vi kommer!” she calls out.
The Armstrong sisters exchange perplexed looks, and even Charlotte is surprised by the girl’s sudden outburst.
“What can she be saying?” Mrs. Dunning asks Nurse Braxton, as they watch Anna wrestle the oar into place. The sight would be comical, in another setting: a skinny little thing battling a piece of wood that’s nearly her height and not all that much thinner. Still, Esme feels a grudging admiration for her. Anna’s efforts might not move the boat any faster, but at least she’s willing to make an effort, unlike that lazy Mr. Wells. It’s only a matter of time before he lights up his pipe and sets off another round of grumbling from Mrs. McBride.