chapter one

                                    

                                          
Monday, April 15th, Carpathia.
The stormy weather did nothing to help the passengers aboard the rescue ship. Staterooms were nearly doubled in occupancy; women cradled their children in hallways, and the decks had been almost empty since shortly after their arrival. The generosity of Carpathia's passengers had touched Rose profoundly. Beds had been made up on the dining room tables, and the smoking lounges were filled with blankets, providing comfort in their already turned upside-down world. Yet, the meals remained the same and were served as usual. There was enough food for everyone aboard, and hot drinks were served regularly to help keep the chills at bay—or so they hoped. Even though refreshments were the last thing on most people's minds, the captain ensured that the quality of meals would not slip. It couldn't, and it didn't.
The tragedy lingered in every corridor and room aboard. Any remnants of joy had been erased when the number of survivors was counted. The sight of incomplete families made even the most strong stomachs feel ill. The dazed and confused individuals who had lost not only family and friends but every possession they owned in the world filled the ship with despair, yet there was a strange calm amongst them; they did not scream, shout or cry aloud very often, as one would expect, they silently sobbed, as though acceptance had come to them already.
The Hockleys and DeWitt Bukaters had arrived on lifeboat number six, welcomed by the Carpathia in the early hours of April 15th. Word had reached the Carpathia about the Titanic's plight some hours earlier, prompting Captain Rostron to order the ship's heating and hot water turned off to generate as much steam as possible for the engines. It set the course for the Titanic's last known position, a journey that would take four hours at a top speed of 17 knots. At 4 a.m., after navigating through a dangerous ice field, Carpathia successfully rescued 705 survivors.
A honeymooning second-class couple had generously offered their stateroom to the DeWitt Bukaters. Nancy, the young bride who gazed at her new husband with adoring eyes, even gave Rose her dresses, stockings, and a large brown woollen overcoat. With unshed tears glistening in her large brown eyes, she handed over the clothes she had packed for what was meant to be the happiest journey of her life, now overshadowed by tragedy. Rose felt her heart sink as she witnessed the love exchanged between the couple, realising that she and her fiancé would never share such a bond.
Rose's maid, Trudy, trembled as she tended to Rose that morning. Her body was not yet accustomed to the ship's motion, and the wails of absolute agony could be heard echoing through the corridors as they lay warmly in their beds. The full extent of the tragedy had not yet dawned on them. Would it ever, considering they had all been aboard the safest, most magnificent "unsinkable" Titanic just the day before?
Ruth had said very little while Cal found solace in bourbon with an old Harvard friend on board, and it was as though he treated this voyage as a reunion. They seemed to ignore Rose; she appeared to matter little if she was within their sight. No one had asked how she was feeling, and she didn't expect them to—people were suffering far worse than she. But it felt as though no one cared for the others, just as they hadn't aboard the Titanic. The wailing seemed like a nuisance to her mother and Cal as if they needed to be silenced like a naughty child.
Broken families were not something Ruth was used to seeing, so she retreated to her room with her tea, never stepping outside for fresh air on deck. Trudy had borrowed a stack of books from the ship's library for Ruth, who submerged herself in literature. It was perhaps a form of denial; by distracting herself, she could avoid facing the harsh reality. Ruth had never been one to confront the truth, and now, facing the fact that so many people had lost their lives, it was easier to hide away.
Seasickness had struck some passengers within just five hours of boarding. The sea was rough, and rain poured onto the slippery decks, keeping most passengers indoors. Who would want to gaze upon the sea, the culprit that had taken so much from everyone aboard? Every person had lost something in that moment.