“Oh, Captain, you have found magic then. I think you are becoming younger,” Maggie Brown declared as she and the officers laughed.
“If that is so, then I shall be in the warm pool three times a day,” Lightoller said.
“I will see you there,” Mrs. Brown nodded, still enjoying the mirth.
Smith and his officers greeted each first class passenger by name, down to the youngest babe. Three hundred and twenty-four persons were in first class that the officers and Captain had to remember by name and by every detail.
The First Officer, Henry Wilde, brushed aside the lack of sleep from the night before as he was called to help command this voyage at the last minute.
Listening to the conversations between his own greetings, he found interest in the young man having hinted at a distressing element to the transatlantic crossing, just as Henry had felt. He, too, felt uneasy although he never would have breathed a word except to tell his wife about his misgivings.
Sailors were notorious for their superstitions, but he would not add his concerns atop the others.
Wilde called out to his crewmates, “I might need the pool a dozen times a day. Aye, I feel old some days.”
As the final passengers came aboard, visitors left the ship to go stand with hundreds of people waving back at those aboard the ship, yelling farewells. The photographer finished taking the last pictures and disembarked with a cluster of others.
Two crewmen and a stow-away had last minute fears that they couldn’t explain, and without much thought, they left the ship with the others.
Some seamen swore they could tell if a voyage were going to have poor consequences, but they also had more superstitions than any other workers and would often perform ritualistic rites to prevent bad luck. While the rest of the crew had no ill feelings, those who survived what was coming said they did feel a slight concern when they left port.
Jenny Cavendar, also an American, stood close to Maggie Brown and waved back to all who waved from the shore. “Can you believe we are here? Isn’t this the most wonderful thing?” She was young, but strong in sensibility. Not prone to triflings, she enjoyed the voyage for what it was: a first time.
Her father Peter agreed, “Never forget this moment. We are making history aboard the biggest ship on earth. And it is unsinkable, so it is the safest ship as well.”
He was one of the wealthiest men aboard, but as a Texan, he was more cowboy than millionaire, less interested in fine manners than in adventure.
“It’s beautiful,” Jenny said, as they toured the ship. She tried to behave lady-like but knew her father felt high society was a passing ideal whereas hard work, character, and determination were forever. Had he not said that a million times?
Jenny’s mother died in childbirth, and although Jenny wished her mother had lived and raised her, too, she knew that Peter Cavendar was an amazing father. He had given her this gift: to enjoy the grandest ship in the world.
Everywhere she looked, no expense was spared to make the décor as beautiful and elegant as possible. There was fine, polished oak paneling, huge windows along A Deck so that one felt a part of the seascape, and plush furniture, gleaming tables, couches, chairs, and lamps so plentiful that one only had to take a few steps to reach them.
The grand staircase, designed in a Louis XIV style and covered by seventeenth century William-and-Mary-style oak paneling was topped by a dome of wrought iron and glass so that light from the outside could shine in. It had gold plated light fixtures and bronze cherubs and ran all the way to E deck. Passengers often stood and gazed at it. The staircase was the heart of the ship.
Feeling like a princess, Jenny descended the stairs, one hand on her father’s elbow. It was the most elegant staircase she had ever seen.
“You need a crown,” Peter Cavendar said, reading her mind.
“Oh? Shall you buy me one set with emeralds and pearls? When I go out for a horse ride, I will make the other horses so envious.”
“Eh.” Mr. Cavendar groaned, as he smiled at his daughter.
Everywhere Jenny looked, there was something new and exciting. One of the dining rooms had trellises on the wall and wicker furniture with cushions of green and blue so it was reminiscent of an outdoor café in Paris. Mirrors and glass made the room twinkle as if with sunshine.
They toured for so long that instead of going to their staterooms, her father had to hurry them along to get prepared for dinner with the Captain. Jenny had time to wash her face and allow her maid to sweep her hair into an elaborate style with extensions, pins, and feathers to add height to the dark tresses.
She added a touch of rouge to her cheeks, and over her undergarments, dressed in chiffon, a green gown that was embroidered with green beading at the neck, hemline, and wrists. It had an under-lining of emerald green that flounced up in the back.
“You look lovely,” Peter Cavendar told her, “quite in fashion.”
“Not bad for a backwards girl from Texas?”
“You are every bit fashionable because I paid for it,” Peter laughed. He had the money, and he did not begrudge his daughter a single cent he spent, but the trunks of Parisian gowns had been very costly.
He did not know how a piece of fabric, netting, and a feather could be so expensive, but seeing them on his daughter and knowing how pleased she was with her image gave him pride. Luckily, next month, the gowns would be forgotten, and she would want a new saddle or boots.
As her father escorted her into the dining room, Jenny felt all eyes on her and knew this was a moment like one she would never have again. The room was over a hundred feet long and the width of the ship, furnished in Jacobean style with the furniture of honey-oak and the décor fashioned after the style of Hatfield, England.
A steward met them and escorted them to their seats. At the Captain’s table, she sat across from her father with a gentleman named Howard, to her left and a gentleman named John at her right. Both stood and introduced themselves.
The Captain entered the dining hall, and conversations quieted to whispers as every eye followed his movements.
For a second, he stood and allowed them to capture the moment of the Captain joining the first dinner of the maiden voyage. He looked around, and each person felt he personally had been welcomed. Captain Smith joined those at his table, after surrendering his hat to a steward, introducing himself again, and taking his seat at the head of the table.
Jenny was so overwhelmed that her hands shook. The shaking was so bad that she could hardly manage a bite of the appetizer: a bowl of scallops with verdant herbs. The waiter filled each bowl of meat and greenery with a savory scented, creamy soup topped off with a tiny scoop of something red and a silver spoon.
“How impressive,” John remarked, “that they have used the scallop’s roe as decoration. See, those tiny beads. Take a bit of the scallop meat and broth with a few bits of the roe; it’s very delicious.” He showed Jenny and Howard.
Jenny tried it and nodded, “Yes, isn’t it lovely?” She was thankful her father explained the dishes as she hardly heard the Master of Ceremonies as he announced each dish. She was too overwhelmed to concentrate.
Each dish was formally announced, and the patrons chatted and praised each as it was served, making for a leisurely dinner.
Peter Cavendar motioned with his spoon, “Fertility, isn’t it? Doesn’t the scallop shell refer to that? I am trying to recall.” His Texas accent began more distinct as he drank spirits.
Maggie Brown laughed openly, as she appreciated his comment, quite veiled but a little naughty. She ate her soup with zeal. The British passengers pretended they did not hear the comment.