One Night to Remember Page 5

  This couldn’t be happening. After all these years of turning men away, of focusing on her work instead of love and marriage, Elizabeth had finally found someone she wanted to be with. Marriage or not, true love or a year long courtship, she wanted more of Thomas McGuire.

  She wasn’t ready to give him up yet.

  “You work for the ship,” she said, watching the first woman step into the lifeboat. “You can assist on the boat. Surely they’ll need someone to row.”

  An officer helped two other ladies into the boat, a child, and three large men. It swayed a bit before finally steadying on the davit.

  “Aye, you will need someone to row. Someone strong and able,” Thomas said, moving out of the way for two young ladies to pass. “But the privilege of escorting you is not mine. I must stay to help the rest of the passengers.”

  “Even if that means you might not ever see me again?”

  “My sole purpose on this ship is to keep order. I’m needed now more than ever.” He swallowed hard. “If you were below deck, I’d come for you too.”

  “Miss?” The officer loading the boat extended his hand. “You’re next. Take my hand...”

  Time froze. Elizabeth’s gaze bounced between the lifeboat and Thomas and the freezing black water of the Atlantic.

  She’d never felt so torn in all her life. It’s not that she wanted to stay on the ship...she simply didn’t want to leave Thomas behind. If what he said was true, that there weren’t enough boats to accommodate everyone, how would he find a way to make it off?

  “Promise me you’ll meet me when we dock in New York,” she said.

  He brought her hand to his lips and brushed a kiss over her knuckles. “I’ll meet you when we dock.”

  “No. Promise me.” He hadn’t said the words and she desperately needed to hear them. It may’ve been the only thing that could soothe the worry from her bones.

  “I promise. But now you have to promise me something.”

  She waited.

  “Do you see that?” He slowly spun her in his arms and pointed out to sea, where a tiny light twinkled in the dark. “The light, not too far out?”

  “Yes…” she squinted, watching the light blink softly against the midnight sky. “Is that a ship?”

  “The wireless operators have tried unsuccessfully to reach it. The crew has been instructed to lower this lifeboat quickly and row hard toward that light. I need you to row your heart out and get as many of these women to take up oars with you.” He squeezed her middle, releasing flutters of butterflies. “When you reach the ship, send them back for us.”

  Hope. There was hope after all.

  “Okay,” she said, and spun around to face him once more. “Does the captain know how long until…”

  Until the ship falls away beneath their feet…

  “An hour.” He watched a group of ladies enter the lifeboat. “Maybe two.”

  “Lord help us.” They’d have to row fast.

  Reaching up on tiptoe, Elizabeth kissed him, putting all her hope and promise behind it. The instant her lips brushed his, her stomach coiled into a hard knot. Thomas pressed on the small of her back, drawing her close.

  Elizabeth had been wrong. What they shared was more than physical. More than an adventure. Elizabeth got the feeling that standing before her, saying goodbye perhaps forever, was her future.

  “I’ll be right back,” she said, and slipped into the lifeboat with the others.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Watching Elizabeth’s lifeboat descend into the Atlantic was the most difficult thing Thomas ever had to do. He had the raw, churning feeling in his gut that as the night moved on, things were going to get infinitely harder.

  Despite the fact that there weren’t enough lifeboats for everyone aboard, Elizabeth’s boat had been lowered less than half full. Twenty seven passengers took seats along with one officer—part of the lookout crew—to man it. Even though it was crucial for women and children to occupy the lifeboats first, fourteen of the spots on Elizabeth’s boat had been filled with able-bodied men.

  Elizabeth’s lifeboat had purpose. Row hard for the ship on the horizon and bring back help.

  At least if the captain’s plan failed, and their lifeboat couldn’t reach the ship in time, Elizabeth would be safe. The fourteen gentlemen accompanying her would see to that.

  With a deep breath, Thomas pushed the thought of Elizabeth drifting away out of his mind and focused on the task at hand: keeping order.

  He swept into the lounge, shocked to find the first class passengers still mingling, the drinks refilling and the band playing on. Walking up to a group of giggling ladies, Thomas stopped at their side and tapped two on the shoulder.

  “May I escort you lovely ladies to a lifeboat?” he said with a tight smile.

  They smiled back, bowing a little in response. One lady, a thirty-something brunette with big, doe eyes said, “We’d rather not. It’s quite cold. We’ve decided to stay indoors until the drill is over.”

  “This is not a drill.” Thomas dropped the lightness in his tone. “You should get to a lifeboat…before it’s too late.”

  They stared, their smiles dropping to grave lines.

  “Better safe than sorry, I always say.” He waited for them to nod in agreement, then escorted them onto the promenade.

  Directly in front of the doors, an officer was struggling to swing a lifeboat into position by himself. Were there no other officers who could help? Were they busy on the port side, lowering other boats? Thomas hoped so…

  Jolted into action, he grabbed a hold of the metal davits arching over the lifeboat. He guided the thick length of rope into its pulley, pulling and tugging the ropes into position so when the time was right, the boat could descend smoothly. The rope was hot in his hands, burning away the skin on his palms. But he couldn’t feel the cold or the pain. Not anymore.

  With the lifeboat ready, the officer called for passengers to step in. Thomas led the ladies from the lounge into their seats, receiving concerned looks from one and disbelieving from another.

  It seemed not even the lowering of the lifeboats could convince the passengers that something had gone horribly wrong.

  Thomas moved back indoors, through the wide, white-paneled corridors of A Deck, telling every passenger he passed to head outside. He opened stateroom doors. Checked rooms. Asked passengers to get to the boats. He swept down the grand staircase, remembering all too well how he’d chased Elizabeth down these stairs.

  Had she reached the blinking lights of the ship by now? Were they already steaming to their position to assist with the rescue? God willing, they were on their way…

  Thomas trekked through B Deck, from bow to stern, telling as many people as he could to put on their life vests and head above deck. He didn’t know how many observed his warning, how many listened, or how many turned a deaf ear and went back to bed.

  It was no matter. He put forth his best effort.

  By the time he wound down, down, through C and D deck, the boat had started to list, causing Thomas to trudge a bit uphill. He turned down a narrow corridor near the reception room and slowed his pace when he realized a soft moaning sound was emitting from the walls. He listened closely, almost dismissing it as a passenger making raucous in the cabin on the opposite side of the wall.

  But then he heard it again. A low, smothered groan that stretched on like a man in immense pain.

  When it occurred to Thomas that the bone-chilling sound was coming from the bowels of the ship, fear clawed its way into him. The ship, that not two hours ago was alive with dining, dancing, bright lights and laughter, was dying.

  Uncertainty flaring in his chest, Thomas pushed onward, uphill toward the stern, moving through one long corridor after another. He didn’t know how much time he had. Or how long he dared wait below decks. He addressed every door he could. First class stateroom, second or third class cabin—he didn’t care.

  As Thomas passed a gentleman without a life vest, he stopp
ed and said, “Sir, have you forgotten your life vest?”

  The man continued down the corridor, craned his neck around and called over his shoulder. “Have you forgotten yours?”

  With a hard pound of his heart, Thomas clutched his chest. He didn’t have one on either. In all his thoughts of saving others, he’d completely overlooked measures to secure his own safety.

  He raced to the nearest stairwell and back up to C Deck. As he entered his stateroom, he picked up hints of Elizabeth’s perfume lingering on the air. The scent was clean and fresh, punching the air out of his lungs.

  From the moment Thomas met with the Master at Arms and heard that the Titanic would sink, he knew that he would not, under any circumstances, take the seat in a lifeboat that a woman or child could occupy.

  Considering how many women and children were still on board, Thomas buried the idea that he’d ever see Elizabeth again. He tried not to think about how much the thought hurt. How much it burned him up inside knowing he’d met the woman of his dreams only to spend one night with her before fate ripped her away.

  He supposed one night was better than none…

  Tugging on his life vest, Thomas left his cabin and made his way up to the boat deck.

  The scene had deteriorated quicker than Thomas could’ve imagined. Even though he was in the thick of it—the bustle and noise and fear—he felt like he was on the outside looking in. Watching the disaster unfold from miles away.

  Somewhere in the last hour, the hissing of steam from the smokestacks had stopped, leaving an eerie stillness filled only by the incompatible sound of dance music. The boats against the rail had all been lowered. Men were sliding collapsible lifeboats from the top of Officer’s Quarters and having a hard go of it.

  First and second class passengers had mixed together, filling the boat deck to the brim. Third class passengers were few and far between, wearing looks of confusion and shock, with hardly a life vest among them. Thomas had the fleeting thought to head back below deck to assist other passengers when a distress flare catapulted through the sky, hissing and spinning toward the stars. Passengers gasped as it popped, raining down specks of brilliant white light. For a split, soul-deadening second, the flare lit up the vastness of the sea and the horror of their circumstance.

  The night was beyond dark, cold and achingly hollow. The ship was listing heavily, its bow completely submerged.

  Thomas paused, his gaze shooting through the dark and across the black sea, to where Elizabeth’s lifeboat was streaming through the waves. Had they reached the other ship? Were they close?

  He couldn’t tell.

  As if the flare illuminated the darkest fears of the passengers left on board, the mood shifted. Passengers became panicked, rushing past him fast and desperate. Lovers were ripped apart, torn out of each other’s arms and tossed into boats. Screams pierced the night. And somewhere on the port side, a gun fired.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “Row!” the officer yelled from the front of the lifeboat. “Pull harder! Keep goin’!”

  The tawny haired officer had taken the first shift, rowing away from the Titanic until its starboard lights no longer illuminated the whites of their faces. The burly man next to Elizabeth had taken over when the officer’s strokes slowed. He slashed the oars through the water in a smooth, efficient rhythm as if he’d rowed a time or two before.

  “Is the ship steaming away?” the officer asked, peering through the dark. “Or are my eyes playing tricks?”

  Elizabeth hadn’t taken her eyes off of the ship in question since leaving the Titanic and she still couldn’t gauge its position for certain. “It’s either moving away or further away than we initially believed,” she said.

  “There…” A gentleman in a top hat pointed to the edge of the boat at Elizabeth’s side. “There’s a pocket in the slats of wood just there. See if there’s a flashlight. Maybe we could get the ship’s attention by flashing Morse code.”

  Elizabeth rummaged through the boat, her fingers rigid from the numbing cold. She pulled out a wrench, a wood plank, and a wound up length of rope.

  “No light.” She crouched low so as not to throw off their balance, and searched the remaining sides. She crawled over the middle bench, near three women huddled together. Their teeth chattered so loudly Elizabeth thought it might’ve been their heels tapping against the wood planked floor of the boat. “No emergency blankets either.”

  “Well keep lookin’,” the officer shouted, cupping his hands over his mouth, blowing into them. “Keep rowin’!”

  The gentleman rowed hard, slamming the oars into the water, pulling with all his might. But no matter how hard he seemed to row, no matter how much force he put behind each stroke, the lights they’d seen on the horizon seemed to be moving further away.

  “I can’t go on like this for much longer,” he said when they were a good hundred yards from the Titanic. The oars went still, drooping over the sides. “My hands…they’ve cramped from the cold. I can’t feel them.”

  “Switch me.” The man behind Elizabeth stood, rocking the boat. The women huddled in the center gasped, clutching one another as if any movement would capsize them.

  The men swapped seats, but as the burly gentleman’s gaze drifted back toward the Titanic he stopped, bone still. An empty, helpless chill skittered across Elizabeth’s skin.

  “Mary Mother of God,” he breathed. “Look.”

  Elizabeth followed his line of sight and gasped, seizing the man’s arm. The Titanic was leaning, dipping its nose under water. The circular yellow lights that were supposed to run parallel to the water were anything but. They were angled down at a dreadful angle, disappearing into the dark clutch of the sea.

  It was the most horrifying sight Elizabeth had ever seen.

  A flare shot through the night sky like a firework, arching over the ship, popping into an arc of white sparks. The decks lit up and for a split second Elizabeth could see people lining the sides of the ship. They were shadows. Faceless shapes—a mob—moving toward the stern. A lifeboat on the starboard side was dipping into the water at an angle—its front end lowered quicker than the back. Sparks from the flare rained down, fizzling away, taking their only source of light with it.

  As a knowing hush fell over the lifeboat, Elizabeth wondered if Thomas was still on deck, helping women and children into lifeboats. Was he handling the one that’d been tipping awkwardly? Would he have gone below to help others? Into the bow that was now submerged? Would he have made it out and back on deck by now?

  Thomas would, she told herself. He was strong and could take care of himself. But as Elizabeth looked at the fear-stricken faces of other ladies in the lifeboat, she realized they too had probably left strong men behind. Thomas was no different than the rest of the men on board—the men who would stay behind if help didn’t come. Thomas stood no more of a chance than the others, did he?

  “Keep rowing.” Elizabeth’s voice lacked strength, fracturing under pressure. She cleared her throat. It was dry and cracked like she’d swallowed a mouthful of day old bread. “Keep going. We must bring back help.”

  There were no other lifeboats in the vicinity, at least none Elizabeth could detect. Though seeing anything in the dark without a light was nearly impossible. If it wasn’t for the Titanic’s slanting orbs of yellow and orange, they’d be immersed in blackness, blind to everything but the piercing cold.

  As the oars sliced into the water again and the lifeboat began trudging through the sea once more, Elizabeth kept her eyes on the ship in the distance.

  It was their only hope.

  They rowed for another five, ten, twenty minutes. The air seemed to grow colder as they paddled from the Titanic. It was a dry cold, cracking Elizabeth’s lips when she’d open them to push out a shivering breath.

  The concept of time slipped away, replaced by the incessant checking of the slanting lights on the ship they’d left behind.

  The water is up to C Deck now, see that?

 
The ship’s dipping hard.

  Water’s nearly to the wheelhouse and moving fast.

  “Focus,” Elizabeth said, drawing their attention around. “We’re making progress.”

  “Little more than we were an hour ago,” the officer said. “The ship looks to be steaming away…we aren’t going to make it. We should head back and fill our boat with more passengers.”

  “We haven’t come this far to turn back now. We are too close to quit.” Elizabeth spun around, pleading to the officer. They were closing in, even if it didn’t seem like it. “Look at the lights. They’re rounder and brighter than they were before. And if you focus, you can make out the ship’s mast. It’s sticking straight up like a shadowed finger. There.” She pointed. “Can you see it against the horizon?”

  Only the man who’d been rowing turned his eyes away from the Titanic. “You’re right, miss. The lights are larger, but barely. It could very well take us another two hours to reach its side. From the way the Titanic is listing, I don’t think she’ll make it that long.”

  The situation couldn’t be that helpless, could it? How many could they fit in their lifeboat? Another forty? Fifty? There was no way to assist everyone without bringing back a larger boat. Maybe the wireless operators had received news from another ship…

  Elizabeth’s gaze snapped back to the Titanic as another distress flare rocketed toward the stars. From their distance away the flare seemed tiny, a mere stream of light that barely topped the smokestacks. When the sparks cascaded down, illuminating the decks, a wave of nausea bowled Elizabeth over. The stern was rising at a stomach-wrenching angle. The upper deck swarmed, moving as one dark mass.

  “Wha—what’s that?” a woman in a man’s coat asked. “Moving over the deck? Is that—”

  “People,” Elizabeth breathed. “Thousands of people.”

  Passengers flooded the deck, crawling over one another, making a mad dash from the sunken bow to the stern. A high pitched wail skittered across the waves, bashing into Elizabeth’s eardrums, hollowing her out. As her body shuddered beneath the weight of the sound, the Titanic’s lights flickered and died out, drenching them in dark.