“That’s a shark. Oh, my God, it is a massive beast. If it comes at us, we will all perish.” Hichens was hysterical. “We must row away, please.”
Maggie stared at the fin. She knew what it was. If it came at them, it would swallow the boat and all of them whole. “He is one that has been watching the ship, at least since earlier tonight. Several saw him, and he broke a porthole when we were below.”
“Fish don’t do that,” Hichens said, but he only said it to be stiff-necked. He was very troubled by the shark.
“I saw him earlier with his ilk. Mr. Hichens, We would appreciate your help. This is no bugaboo, but a dire threat, and we need you to help us,” Maggie said.
“Leave me alone.”
The megaladon had no great interest in this boat, so it swam around, cleaning up the bodies from the water. The ones who were alive could not possibly fight and were gulped down the massive gullet.
When the shark curiously nosed the slime on the water, it suddenly jerked away, black eyes rolling angrily. A spot on its snout steamed and burned; it would leave a scar in his rough skin.
“I think it saved us but that doesn’t mean it cares much for us particularly,” Maggie Brown said, “so let’s row out of here. Ladies, top speed, please. We have got survivors to deliver to a rescue ship. We are no match for a shark.”
“We could be out here for days, drifting, with no water or food and those things stalking us,” Hichens said morbidly.
“Not my boat,” Maggie said.
“Unsinkable Molly Brown,” Hichens said.
She laughed, “Maggie, Maggie Brown.”
“Commander of life boat number six, I have been bested,” Hichens told her.
“Let’s row as far as we can,” Mrs. Meyers said, “I want far away from here. And from all of that.”
“Yes? It is disheartening.”
“So many lost….” Mary Douglas wept.
“But we found so many alive. We have done well, ladies,” Maggie said. “Someone begin a song. We must keep our spirits up, and these men we have saved need positivity.”
One of the younger women began to sing, and others joined in.
None of them referred to the slimy mire that followed them, nor did they speak of the megaladon.
Sadly, later, they talked about those they lost, the sight of the sinking ship, and the dreadful ice field; their spirits were low. Maggie had them sing again and worked to give them hope.
Hichens sang a bawdy sailor song that lifted their moods. Maggie Brown gave him a warm smile for coming around.
She recalled trying to help rescue third class passengers, but there had not been room for them, and the water came up with a huge roar and swallowed them. No. That was not quite right, but it was all like a faint nightmare she could not hold on to. It slipped to her peripheral memory, and she could not see it clearly.
She hoped Jenny and Helen were safe, as well as Mr. Stead, Mr. Cavendar, and the steward, Daniels. Maybe Howard was rescued. He was a sweet young man, only prone to such a vivid imagination.
Not one of them recalled anything more nightmarish than a sea filled with bodies frozen atop pieces of wreckage, floating aimlessly or blue-white people hardly able to moan.
A man’s arms were stuck to a table that he floated on, and when they tried to get him to the boat, the skin from his arms tore away. His fingers broke off like twigs until his hands were like mittens. They let him slip back into the water when they saw his eyes were frozen open, and they hoped the faint groans were from someone else and that he was not still living.
But that was what they remembered: bodies and more bodies in a field of endless bodies that floated alongside trash, broken furnishings, and papers. Those memories were horrible enough.
They had a long, cold night and were the last of the lifeboats to be found and rescued as they had, in fear that they could no longer recall, rowed far away from the area.
Chapter Eleven: Boat Four
Walter Perkis, Quartermaster, looked at the forty people aboard his lifeboat with trepidation. Had two greasers, Scott and Ranger, not climbed down the ropes, called falls, they would have no one to row the boat properly. Mr. Scott had actually fallen the last few feet into the water but gotten out quickly. He described in whispers how terrible the water was to Mr. Perkis.
Maddy Astor watched the water.
As they rowed about the wreckage, they hoped to find survivors. She imagined seeing a well-dressed man, handsome and dashing, who would be clinging to a floating deck chair. With a devilish grin, he would raise his head and laugh, happy to see her. So far, they had pulled the fallen greaser from the water, but not her husband, John Astor.
“Are you comfortable, Mrs. Astor,” Perkis asked. He was very polite and concerned about her welfare. After all, she was an Astor, and if her continued rubbing of her slight bulge of belly was any indication, she was with child: an Astor heir.
“I am fine, thank you.”
He was worried about her pallor.
“Ohhh,” William Richards, only three years old and from the second class, spoke baby talk and wiggled a pudgy finger.
He was pointing at several men in the water whom Perkis called out to. The one farthest away was about two hundred yards starboard and afore of the boat. Perkis ordered anyone who could row to help. Most of the women sat there helplessly, mourning their husbands and shivering.
Perkis wished for more men to help with the rowing. Why had they not loaded more help for him, he wondered.
The Titanic broke into sections. One fell into the dark abyss of the water, and then the second part sank. Men and women, young, old, rich, poor, good, and bad died together. Nothing saved them as they plunged into the sea. Maddy Astor had watched, teary eyed as it happened.
She saw steel bend and snap.
Nothing was indestructible or so strong it could endure anything, at least nothing man-made. What were truly powerful were spirit, honor, sensibility, and constancy.
With a deep breath, Maddy decided she would not fear things any longer; she was strong, and she could endure. She would remain steadfast and give a good account of herself because that was what mattered and it was what she would teach the child she carried.
“Oh, of all the silliness, Ladies.” Maddy Astor shifted and took up an oar, “We have a job to do. Who among us is too prideful to do honest and much-needed work? Did Moses say to God that he was too busy or tired or had too many trials and could not share His word? No. He was responsible. Be not prideful but work alongside me.” It was the most she had ever said at one time, aloud.
Her voice was strong.
To everyone’s shock, she dug in and rowed with renewed energy. Seeing the wealthiest woman from the ship take up an oar encouraged a few of the other women, and they helped, actually showing lighter moods as they worked together. More took on the spirit and took up the oars.
In a second, they pulled in several firemen who had fallen into the water from the boat deck when the ship went down.
Next, there were a greaser and the personal steward named Cunningham, who had gotten all of his charges into life belts and into lifeboats. He stayed on the deck to perish, but several of the men had refused to give up, jumping into the water and swimming to the lifeboats they saw.
“Bloody good deal,” Perkis said, “you have done good, Man.”
The rescued men stared at Maddy Astor who worked as hard as any man and chastised those who would not bend to the work.
Some of the women donated dry, warm clothing to wrap the survivors in. Maddy praised their charity.
“We have room, so let us row among these poor souls to try to find more alive. We would want someone to do this if our husbands might be found,” Maddy Astor ordered. “If we save a man, remember, he may be someone’s beloved husband and a revered father. We would want someone to do the same for our men, and perhaps they shall.”