Fortunately for boat six, just two sick souls snuck aboard, and with the help of a few others, and an oar, Hichens had them quickly banished from the boat. He had been so proud of himself.
“How shameful,” Margaret replied. “Trying to scare people. Have you forgotten what happened after we ejected them from the boat? They sank like a stone, that’s what. They can’t swim. And if they have a lifebelt on, they still won’t be able to get into the boat unless we let them. So what are you really worried about?”
“Don’t argue with me. I’m in charge of this boat. It’s our lives now, not theirs.”
Margaret hung her head for a moment, upset no one else would stand with her.
“I know some of you got husbands, don’t ya? Well, where are they? They sure ain’t here beside you. Are you really gonna sit here and do nothing while your men die out there? I don’t understand it.”
“I swear,” Hichens huffed, “if you don’t shut your ugly trap, I’m gonna shut it for ya!”
“That’s quite enough,” a stoker said from the back of the boat. “That’s no way to talk to a lady.”
“Sonny, don’t worry about me,” Margaret said, calm as could be. “I’ve dealt with much worse than this one. In fact, I’m just itchin’ for him to give me a reason to throw his ass overboard.”
Hichens settled back, noticeably concerned with the threat.
By the time Margaret was able to convince most of the boat to go back on a rescue mission, it was probably too late anyway. The cries and calls to return had all but stopped, and the night had become dead quiet.
Not far away, Fifth Officer Lowe in command of lifeboat fourteen rounded up four other boats, tied them together, and then safely transferred his passengers to the other boats. Then Lowe and a few crewmen went back through the sea of corpses to search for survivors. Even from a distance, Margaret could hear Lowe call out repeatedly if anyone was alive, wishing she was able to help.
“It’s no use,” Hichens muttered. “Going back for a bunch of stiffs.”
As the hour passed, everyone on board boat six began to lose confidence they’d be rescued. They could drift out for days, hundreds of miles from land, with no food or water, and only the clothing on their backs and a few extra blankets to protect them from the extreme cold. But then—
“What was that?” Margaret asked. She had seen a faint glimmer of light to the southeast, and then a boom. “Could it have been a rocket?”
“Maybe a flash of lightning,” said another woman, sipping liquor from a flask.
“Nonsense,” Quartermaster Hichens said. “It was a falling star. Best not to get your hopes up, anyway. May I have a drink of that?”
The woman with the flask took a long swig and then said, “No, you may not.”
Lifeboat sixteen floated close by, and so Hichens ordered the two boats to be tied together and left to drift. All the while, Margaret kept a close eye to the southeast for another glimpse of light. Fifteen minutes later, she saw one. It was just like the first, only brighter, the boom, louder.
“That’s no falling star,” she said.
Everyone kept their eyes peeled to the southeast. There was no doubt now a steamer was coming their way, firing off rockets. Then the light from its masthead slowly appeared out of the darkness.
Fourth Officer Boxhall in boat two closest to the incoming steamer lit a green flare to get their attention.
“They’ve come to rescue us,” a young woman exclaimed.
“Or to pick up bodies,” Hichens replied.
“You want to volunteer one, go right ahead,” Margaret said. “But I’m with her. We need to stop drifting, and start rowing.”
“Be calm, woman. I’ll say what we do.”
“Ya know, I’ve had about as much of your mouth as I’m gonna take.” A dozen other women shouted their support. “We’re taking over. We need to cut these boats loose and start rowing. If nothing else, it’ll keep the blood circulating.”
“You won’t do nothin’ of the kind,” Hichens protested. But nobody was listening.
Margaret ordered a man in boat sixteen wearing only his pajamas to cut the ties holding the boats together. Quartermaster Hichens plodded across the boat to put a stop to it, but the Colorado millionaire stood in his way.
“Where you think you’re going?” Margaret asked.
“Get out of my way.”
“I told you I’d throw you overboard. Take one step closer and call my bluff.”
Hichens cursed under his breath and settled back under a blanket at the tiller, while the two boats were released from one another. Then the women took turns rowing toward the ship in the distance.
As dawn approached in the east, the stars overhead started to dim, and the outline of the steamer became visible, its single funnel leaving a trail of thick black smoke in the sky. Soon they were close enough to read the name on the bow.
Carpathia.
One by one, the lifeboats transferred their passengers safely on to the steamer. Lifeboat six patiently waited in line for their turn.
Four hours later, the rescue was complete.
After climbing the ladder on to the Carpathia, Margaret watched from the deck until the last passenger, the Titanic’s Second Officer Charles Lightoller, was brought aboard. Then she left to attend a prayer service for those who had been saved, and a funeral service for those who had perished.
Realizing many had lost everything when the Titanic went down, Margaret immediately went to work assisting survivors and asking the wealthier passengers for donations. By the time the Carpathia coasted into pier 54 in New York on Thursday evening, Margaret had raised close to ten thousand dollars to benefit the less fortunate survivors and the families of the fallen.
Despite it being a cold and rainy day, over thirty-thousand people came out to greet their arrival.
The first-class passengers were allowed to disembark first. Among them, the White Star Line’s managing director, Bruce Ismay, who somehow found a seat on a lifeboat during the confusion. By his side were two U.S. senators, William Smith from Michigan and Francis Newlands from Nevada, who had come with a subpoena requiring him to testify in a formal inquiry. Since Monday morning, Ismay had sent out numerous wireless messages from the Carpathia explaining what had happened, covering his tracks and trying to get ahead of the blame.
Newspapers ran headlines like:
Margaret stepped off the gangway into the throng of waiting families. Ahead of her was John Jacob Astor’s young wife, Madeline, who rushed by a band of reporters and disappeared into an automobile. Days later, John’s body would be pulled from the sea with twenty-five hundred dollars in his coat pocket.
Margaret stood for a moment under the pier’s bright spotlights watching the tearful reunions take place all around. Seeing she was alone, the reporters rushed over with cameras.
“There have been rumors of an infection on the ship,” one reporter said. “Can you confirm this?”
“I can’t deny it.”
“With such loss of life, how were you able to beat the odds?” a different reporter asked.
“That’s easy. Typical Brown luck,” Margaret replied. “We’re unsinkable.”
May 21, 1912
LIGHTOLLER
They had just returned from a short recess.
It was the twelfth day of testimony in the British Board of Trade’s inquiry into the disaster, the second day for Charles Lightoller, who had already answered close to a thousand questions.