No Greater Love (10 page)

She was still wearing the brogues and the pale blue evening dress under the heavy coat her mother had urged her to put on. Her head was so cold, she felt as though she had nails hammered into it, and her hands felt like marble blocks as she waited for the mail sack to be lowered down again, and then with the help of Steward Hart, she put Teddy into it. The child was so cold that most of his face was blue, and more than once during the night, she feared that he might die of exposure. She had done everything she could to keep him warm, held him, rubbed his arms and legs and cheeks. She had held him between herself and George, but the bitter cold had been hard on him and little Fannie, and now she was afraid for them as she tried to climb the rope ladder, and found she didn’t have the strength to take hold. She put George in the swing first, and he looked like a very small child as they raised him to the deck. He was more subdued than she had ever seen him. And then they lowered it down again for her, and Steward Hart gently put her in it. She started to close her eyes on the way up, but as she looked out at the other boats in the soft pink light of the dawn, all she could see was a sea of ice, dotted by tiny icebergs, and here and there, a lifeboat, full of people, anxiously waiting to be rescued. The lifeboats were nowhere near full, and she could only hope that in the other ones, she would find the people she had left only hours before on the
Titanic’
s Boat Deck. She couldn’t bear to think of it now and tears filled her eyes as her feet touched the deck beneath her.

“Your name?” A stewardess was waiting on the
Carpathian
deck with a gentle smile, and she spoke to Edwina, as a sailor put a blanket over her shoulders. There were coffee and tea and brandy waiting for them
just inside, and the ship’s surgeon and his assistants were there to check them out. There were stretchers laid out on the deck for those who couldn’t walk, and someone had already gone to get George a cup of hot chocolate. But nowhere around her did she see her mother and father … Phillip … Alexis … Charles…. And suddenly she could barely speak, she was so exhausted.

“Edwina Winfield,” she managed to say as she watched the other survivors being slowly raised to the deck just as she had been only moments before. And they still had more lifeboats to reach and she was praying the others would be in them.

“And your children, Mrs. Winfield?”

“My … I … oh …” She realized suddenly who they meant. “They’re my brothers and sister. George Winfield, Frances, and Theodore.”

“Were you traveling with anyone else?” Someone handed her a mug of steaming tea, and she could feel dozens of eyes on her as her pale blue evening dress fluttered in the wind, and she warmed her hands on the steaming mug as she answered.

“I was … I am traveling with my parents. Mr. and Mrs. Bertram Winfield of San Francisco, my brother Phillip, as well, and my sister Alexis. And my fiancé, Mr. Charles Fitzgerald.”

“Do you have any idea where the others are?” the stewardess asked sympathetically as she ushered Edwina into the main dining saloon, which had been turned into a hospital and lounge for the
Titanic’
s survivors.

“I don’t know …” Edwina looked at her, with tears filling her eyes. “I think they must have gotten into another lifeboat. My mother was looking for my younger sister when we left … and … I thought … there was a little girl in our boat, and at first I thought …”
She couldn’t go on, and with tears in her own eyes, the stewardess patted her shoulder and waited. There were a number of others in the dining saloon by then, women who were shivering or vomiting, or simply crying, their hands torn to shreds by the rowing and the cold. And the children all seemed to be huddled in one spot, with huge, frightened eyes, many of them crying quietly, as they watched their mothers and mourned their fathers. “Will you help me look for them, please?” She turned huge blue eyes to the stewardess again, while still glancing at George frequently, but for once, he wasn’t a problem. Teddy was being looked at by a nurse, he was still stunned by the cold, but he was beginning to cry now and his face was no longer quite so blue, and little Fannie now clung to Edwina’s skirts in silent terror. “I want Mama …” she cried softly as the stewardess left them to speak to some of the others, but she promised to come back as soon as she could, and to tell Edwina if there was news of her parents.

And now, boat after boat was being reached, even the four that had been tied together. The men in collapsible B had been rescued long since by lifeboat number twelve, and it was here that Jack Thayer finally wound up, but when they took him off the overturned canvas boat that was sinking fast, he was too exhausted to notice anyone else in the boat. His own mother was in number four, tied up right next to him, and he didn’t even see her, nor she him. Everyone was exhausted and cold and intent on his or her own survival.

Edwina left the two younger children with George, still drinking hot chocolate, and went out on the deck to watch the rescue operations. There were several other women from the
Titanic
standing there, and among them, Madeleine Astor. She had little hope that her husband had managed to get off after she left, and yet she had to see the survivors boarding from the lifeboats.
Just in case … she couldn’t bear the thought that she had lost him. Just as Edwina prayed that she would see a familiar face coming from the lifeboats now. She stood high up, at the rail, watching as the men climbed the rope ladder, and the women came up in the swing, and the children in the mail sack, although some of the men were too tired to climb, and their hands were all so cold they could hardly hold the rope now. But what Edwina noticed most of all was the eerie silence. No one spoke, no one made a sound. They were all too deeply moved by what they had seen, too cold and too afraid, and too badly shaken. Even the children seldom cried, except for the occasional wail of a hungry baby.

There were several unidentified babies already in the dining saloon, waiting for mothers to claim them. One woman in number twelve spoke of catching a baby that had been thrown to her, but she had no idea by whom, and she thought it might have been by a woman from steerage who had made her way to the Boat Deck and then gave her child to anyone who would take it off the ship. The baby was inside, crying now, along with several others.

The scene in the dining saloon was both touching and chaotic. Women sat together in small clusters, crying softly for their men, being questioned by the stewardesses, the nurses, and the doctors, and a handful of men were there too, but pitifully few, thanks to Second Officer Lightoller, who would not let most of them into the lifeboats. Still, several had survived in spite of it, due to less stringent rules on the starboard side, and ingenuity in some events. Still others had died in the water, attempting to scramble into lifeboats. But most of those who had jumped from the ship had been left in the water to die by those who were too afraid to pick them up, for fear that they might capsize the lifeboats. They
had made a piteous din at first, until at last there was only the terrible silence.

Edwina saw Jack Thayer enter the room then, and a moment later heard his mother scream as she discovered him too, and she rushed toward him, crying, and then Edwina heard her ask him, “Where’s Daddy?” He saw Edwina then, and nodded, and finally she walked slowly over to him, afraid of what he might say, yet still hopeful that he might have good news, but he shook his head sadly as he saw her coming.

“Was anyone from my family in your lifeboat?”

“I’m afraid not, Miss Winfield. Your brother was at first, but he slipped out when a wave hit, and I don’t know if he was picked up by another lifeboat. Mr. Fitzgerald jumped about the same time I did, but I never saw him again. And your parents were still on the deck the last time I saw them.” And he didn’t tell her that he had the impression that they were determined to stay together and go down with the ship, if they had to. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened to them.” He choked on the words as someone handed him a glass of brandy. “I’m very sorry.” She nodded, tears spilling down her cheeks. She seemed to cry all the time now.

“Thank you.” She didn’t want it to be true. It couldn’t be. She wanted him to tell her that they were alive, that they were safe, that they were in the next room. Not that they had drowned, or he didn’t know. Not Phillip and Charles and Alexis and her parents. It couldn’t be … she wouldn’t let it. And one of the nurses came to her then. The doctor wanted to see her about little Teddy. And when she went to him, he was lying listless, still wrapped in a blanket, his eyes huge, his hands cold, his little body trembling as he looked at her. She picked him up and held him as the doctor told her that the next several hours would be crucial. “No!” she said out loud, her hands and body shaking more than the child’s. “No!
He’s alright … he’s fine….” She couldn’t let anything happen to him, not now, not if … no! She couldn’t bear it. Everything had been so perfect for them. They had all loved each other so much, and now suddenly they were all gone, or most of them, and the doctor had told her that Teddy might not survive the exposure. She held him close to her now, willing her own body heat into him, and trying to make him drink the hot bouillon he refused to swallow. He just shook his head back and forth, and clung to Edwina.

“Will he be okay?” George was staring up at her with huge eyes, as she clung to their little brother, and there were tears running down her cheeks now, and George’s, as he began to absorb the implications of all that had happened in the past few hours. “Will he, Edwina, will he be okay?”

“Oh, please, God … I hope so….” She looked up at George then and pulled him close to her, and then Fannie, still bundled up in her blanket.

“When will Mama be here?” she wanted to know.

“Soon, my love … soon …” Edwina found herself choking on the words, as she watched the survivors continue to drift into the Grand Saloon of the
Carpathia
, looking dazed from their ordeal in the lifeboats.

And then, trying not to think of all they had lost, she picked up her baby brother and held him close, crying softly for the others.

HE CAME UP THE LADDER WITH HANDS
so
FROZEN THAT HE
could barely use them, but he refused to come up in the swing like a girl. He had been picked up by number twelve after he left collapsible D, and then he had lain on the floor of the lifeboat almost unconscious with exhaustion. But now, in some distant part of him he felt the exhilaration of being saved. Theirs was the last lifeboat in, and it was eight-thirty in the morning. He came up the ladder just before the crew, and a moment later he stood on the deck of the
Carpathia
with tears running down his cheeks, unable to believe what had happened to all of them. But he had made it. He had made it alone, without parents or sisters or brothers, and now he only prayed that they had made it too. And on shaking, frozen legs, he walked slowly into the dining saloon, and saw a sea of unfamiliar faces. Seven hundred and five people had survived, and more than fifteen hundred had died, but at that precise moment, the survivors looked
like thousands to Phillip. He didn’t know where to begin looking for them, and it was fully an hour before he even saw Jack Thayer.

“Have you seen any of them, man?” He looked desperate, with his hair still damp, his eyes wild and black-circled. It was the worst thing that had ever happened to any of them, and probably ever would. And everywhere were half-dressed people in blankets and evening clothes and towels and nightgowns. They couldn’t seem to get away from it even now. They didn’t want to go away, or change, or leave each other, or even speak. They just wanted to find the people they had lost. And now they were all desperately looking through the crowd for familiar faces.

Jack Thayer nodded distractedly, but he was still looking for his own father. “Your sister is here somewhere. I saw her a while ago.” And then he smiled sadly. “I’m glad you made it.” The two boys embraced, and held each other for a long time, the tears they had yet to shed choking them now that they were safe on the
Carpathia
and the nightmare had finally ended, or almost.

And then as they parted, Phillip looked frightened again. Looking for the people he loved was frightening; the fear that they might not be there was almost overwhelming. “Were any of the others with her?”

“I don’t know …” Jack looked vague. “I think maybe a baby.” That would be Teddy … and the others? Phillip began to wander the crowd, and walked out on the deck, hoping to find her, and then finally, back in the saloon, he suddenly saw the back of her head, the dark hair, the slim shoulders, and George standing next to her with his head bowed. Oh, God, Phillip began to cry, as he pressed through the crowd and hurried toward her. And then without a word, as he reached her, he pulled her around, looking down into her eyes, and
pulled her into his arms as she gave a gasp, and a sob, and began to cry.

“Oh, my God … Oh, Phillip … Oh, Phillip….” It was all she could say. She didn’t dare ask for any of the others. And everywhere around them, people who had been less fortunate were crying softly too. And it was a long time before he dared to ask the question.

“Who’s here with you?” He had seen George, and now he saw Fannie, concealed in her blanket just behind Edwina. And Teddy was lying on the floor, wrapped in blankets, in a makeshift cradle. “Is he alright?” Her eyes filled with tears again, and as she looked at Phillip, she shook her head. Teddy was still alive, but the child’s lips were so blue, they looked almost black now. Phillip took off his own coat then and put it around him, and squeezed Edwina’s hand tightly in his own. At least five of them had made it. And by the end of the day, they had found no others.

Teddy was given a bed in the ship’s infirmary that night and he was being carefully watched, as was Fannie. They feared frostbite on two of her fingers. And George was sound asleep on a cot in the hallway. And late that night Edwina and Phillip were standing on the deck, staring silently out into the distance. Neither of them could sleep, nor did they want to. She never wanted to sleep again, or think, or dream, or let her mind wander back to those terrible moments. And it was even more impossible to believe now. She felt certain that as the crowd in the dining saloon thinned earlier that day, she would see her mother and father chatting quietly in a corner, with Charles standing right beside them. It was impossible to believe that they hadn’t survived, that their parents were gone … and Alexis … and Charles with them, and there would be no marriage in August. It was impossible to believe, or to understand.
The fabric for her wedding gown had gone down and … She wondered if her mother had held Alexis’s hand … if it had been terrible … or quick … or painful. They were terrible thoughts, and she couldn’t even voice them to Phillip, as they stood side by side on the deck, lost in their own thoughts. Edwina had been with Teddy and Fannie all day, and Phillip had kept an eye on George, but through it all, it was as though they were waiting. Waiting for people who would never appear, people who would never come back again, people she had loved so…. The
Carpathia
had made a last search of the area before steaming toward New York, but there had been no more survivors.