On a Cold Dark Sea(78)

And then Charlotte is aware of a gradual shift, as if everyone has taken a simultaneous breath. Faces turn; skirts and coats rustle. In the gray haze of sunrise, Charlotte sees a cavalcade of icy boulders jutting out from the sea. They are white and deep blue and all the shades in between, each angle distinct, a display of serene strength.

“What’s that?” Tommy asks, his high-pitched voice breaking the silence.

“Icebergs,” Mr. Healy says.

He looks so tired, Charlotte thinks, a wan facsimile of the efficient sailor who’d thrown out a line to a dying man. She hasn’t thought until now that he must have lost friends, too. Loyal crewmen who did their duty and went down with the Titanic.

“There’s a ship!” Charlie shouts out, and they all jostle to look, bodies twisting up and around. Esme can’t be sure at first; it’s impossible to see anything other than those glacial outcroppings. Then a distant shape resolves itself in her mind—the bow, a smokestack; Charlie was right!—and Esme lets out a yelp of joy. Elation floods her so completely that her body moves without thought. She reaches for Charlie and presses her forehead against his chest, and she feels the flutter of his fingers in the hair at the back of her neck. It’s flagrant and reckless, and Esme doesn’t care.

Mr. Healy barks out orders. “We must row for her. Row for our lives. Mr. Van Hausen, Mr. Wells . . .”

Charlie has already picked up his oar. Mr. Wells’s mouth is half open, like a dog panting for his supper. He presses an oar into the lock and gives Mr. Healy a spritely salute.

“Aye, aye, Cap’n!”

Nurse Braxton scrambles back to the tiller as the men position their oars. Mrs. McBride reaches for an oar bobbing in the water at her feet.

“I will join you, gentlemen,” she announces.

Mrs. Westleigh and Miss Armstrong look gleefully impressed by their older sister’s pluck. It is impossible to tell what Mrs. Trelawny is feeling; her head is bent downward, and she is either crying or praying.

Charlotte picks up an oar and gives Anna an encouraging smile.

“A ship,” she says. Does the girl understand? “We’re saved.”

She grabs hold of Anna’s hand and squeezes; her skin is still so cold. Charlotte feels a fleeting pity for this poor, lost little thing, who doesn’t look nearly old enough to be on her own. Then Charlotte’s thoughts turn back to herself, and she wonders where this ship will take them. London? New York? She doesn’t care, as long as Reg is on deck, waiting for her.

Anna looks at the ship in the distance and thinks only of blankets and soup and coffee. Her body is assaulted by shivers; she shakes and shakes and can’t stop.

Mrs. McBride gloats about her prowess with the oar; her sisters offer delighted encouragement as Mr. Wells laughs. The boat barrels forward, propelled by rowers working in union, locked in the same rhythm.

Charlie is grinning, and his cheeks are flushed, and Esme thinks he has never looked so handsome.

“Mr. Healy and Mr. Wells, I’ve got ten dollars for each of you when we board,” Charlie says, his breaths labored but steady. “I hope that’s enough to replace what you’ve lost.”

“Much obliged,” Mr. Healy mutters, his eyes on their target, while Mr. Wells lets out a more delighted, “Thank you, sir!”

Relentlessly, Lifeboat 21 glides across the glassy sea, as its passengers move into their futures.





PART FOUR: AFTERMATH





ANNA

March 1933

To Mrs. Van Hausen, with most sincere greetings . . .

Anna tipped the pen sideways, tapping it with her thumb. Did that set the proper tone? She was still so uncertain of her written English. A woman like Mrs. Van Hausen would have all sorts of impressive correspondents, and Anna didn’t want to come across as a country rube. She heard Josef stomping his boots outside the kitchen door and slid the letter under a stack of seed catalogs on the corner of the desk.

“Easier than I thought!” Josef called out.

He’d been working on the car, trying to discover the source of a rattling noise that had been irritating him for days. In a few hours, he would be driving to the Lake Crossing train station to pick up Sarah for her usual weekend visit. During the past few months of Saturday suppers and Sunday lunches, Anna had watched her children marvel at the change in their parents. She saw Sarah and John glance at each other when Josef reached for Anna’s hand, perhaps wondering whether age had made them more sentimental. Susan simply beamed.

Anna heard water splashing in the kitchen sink, then Josef leaned around the doorframe of the front room. His cheerful, questioning expression made Anna ashamed of her secrecy. She ought to have told him what she was thinking weeks ago. After all, it would have to be a joint decision.

Anna waved Josef into the room and pulled out the letter she’d started. Her fingertips rubbed absently along the paper as she talked.

“You remember when I told you about Charlotte? From the lifeboat?”

Josef nodded.

“I’ve always felt bad about keeping her money.”

Josef leaned against the doorjamb, bracing himself for more than a quick exchange.

“It’s not your fault,” he said. “You couldn’t find her.”

“I didn’t try very hard. There was another woman in our boat, Mrs. Van Hausen, as she’s now known. I saw an obituary for her husband, in a magazine, and it said she lives in New York. She’s very rich—I’m sure I could find her address without much trouble. They have directories for all the big cities at the telephone company offices. Mrs. Van Hausen might know Charlotte’s surname and where she lives—it’s worth a try, at least. I could write to the White Star Line offices, too.”