No Greater Love (12 page)

When Edwina held her treasured doll out to her, Alexis snatched it from her sister’s hand, and held it close to her face, but she wouldn’t speak to anyone, and she watched as Phillip cried when he saw her again, but it was George she turned to now, as he stared down at her in amazement.

“I thought you were gone, Lexie,” he said quietly. “We looked for you everywhere.” She didn’t answer
him, but her eyes never left his, and she slept next to him that night, holding his hand, and with her other hand clutching her doll, as Phillip kept watch over them both. Edwina was sleeping with Fannie and Teddy in the infirmary again that night, although Fannie was fine, and Teddy was much better. But it was the safest place for her to be with two such delicate children, and Teddy was still coughing pretty badly at night. She had invited Alexis to stay there with her too, but she had shaken her head, and followed George into the Grand Saloon and lay down next to him on his narrow mattress. Her brother lay on his side watching her, before they fell asleep. It was like seeing his mother again, finding her, because the two had always been together so much of the time, and he slept that night, dreaming about their parents. He was still dreaming about them when he woke up in the middle of the night and heard Alexis crying beside him, and he comforted her and held her close to him, but she wouldn’t stop crying.

“What is it, Lexie?” he asked finally, wondering if she would finally tell him, or if, like the rest of them, she was just so sad that all she could do was wail. “Do you hurt?… do you feel sick? Do you want Edwina?”

She shook her head, looking down at him as she sat up, clutching her dolly to her. “I want Mama….” She whispered softly, her big blue eyes searching his face, and tears sprang to his own eyes as he heard her and then he hugged her to him.

“So do I, Lexie … so do I.” They slept holding hands that night, two of Kate’s children, the legacy she had left behind when she had chosen not to leave her husband. They all remembered the great love she had had for them, and the love and tenderness between their parents, but now all that was gone, to another place, another time. And all that was left was the family
they had created, six people, six lives, six souls, six of the precious few who had survived the
Titanic.
And for the rest of time, Kate, and Bert, and Charles, and the others were gone. Lost forever.

EDWINA AND PHILLIP STOOD ON THE DECK ON THURSDAY
night, in a sorrowful rain, as the
Carpathia
passed the Statue of Liberty and entered New York. They were home again, or back in the States at least. But it seemed as though there was nothing left for them now. They had lost everything, or so it felt, and Edwina had to silently remind herself that at least they still had each other. But life would never be the same for them again. Their parents were gone, and she had lost her future husband. In only four months, she and Charles would have been married, and now he was gone … his gentle spirit, his fine mind, his handsome face, the kindness she had so loved, the tilt of his head when he laughed at her … all of it, and with him her bright, happy future, gone forever.

Phillip turned to her then, and saw the tears streaming down her cheeks, as the
Carpathia
steamed slowly into the harbor, assisted by tugs, but there were no sirens,
no horns, no fanfare, there was only sorrow and silent mourning.

Captain Rostron had reassured them all the night before that the press would be kept away from them for as long as possible, and he would do everything he could to assure them a quiet arrival in New York. He warned them that the ship’s radio room had been besieged by wires from the press since the morning of the fifteenth, but he had answered none of them, and no journalists would be allowed on his ship. The survivors of the
Titanic
had earned the right to mourn in peace, and he felt a responsibility to all of them to bring them home quietly and safely.

But all Edwina could think about now was what they had left behind, somewhere in the bowels of the ocean. Phillip quietly took her hand in his own, as he stood next to her, the tears streaming down his face as well, thinking of how different it all might have been, had the fates been only a little kinder.

“Win?” He hadn’t called her that since he was a small child, and she smiled through her tears as he said it.

“Yes?”

“What are we going to do now?” They had talked about it on and off, but she hadn’t really had time to think about it, with Teddy so ill, and Alexis so distraught, and the others to worry about too. George had hardly spoken in the last two days, and she had found herself longing for a little of his naughtiness and mischief. And poor little Fannie cried every time Edwina left her, even if it was only for an instant. It was difficult to think, with all the responsibility she suddenly had. All she knew was that she had to take care of them, and Phillip as well. She was all they had now.

“I don’t know, Phillip. We’ll go home, I guess, as soon as Teddy is completely well.” He still had a dreadful cough, and the day before he’d been running a fever.
And for the moment, none of them were up to the long train ride back to California. “We’ll have to stay in New York for a little while, and then go home.” But the house, and the newspaper? It was more than she cared to think about. All she wanted to do now was look back … just a moment … a few days … to the last night she was dancing with Charles to the happy ragtime music. It was ail so simple then, as he whirled her around the floor, and then swept her into the beautiful waltzes she loved best of all. They had danced so much in four days on the ship that she had almost worn her new silver shoes out and now she felt as though she would never dance again, and never want to.

“Win?” He had seen her mind drift away again. She kept doing that. They all did.

“Hmm?… I’m sorry …” She stared out at New York Harbor, looking at the rain, fighting back tears, and wishing that things were different. And everyone on the
Carpathia
felt the same, as the widows lined the railing, with tears streaming down their cheeks, mourning the men and the lives they’d lost less than four days before. Four days that now seemed like a lifetime.

Many of them were being met by relatives and friends, but the Winfields had no one in New York to meet them. Bert had made reservations for them at the Ritz-Carlton before they left, and they would stay there now until they left for California again. But simple details were now suddenly complicated for all of them. They had no money, no clothes, Alexis had somehow managed to lose her shoes, and Edwina had only her now tattered pale blue evening gown and the black dress someone had given her the day they’d been rescued from the lifeboats. It was a problem for all of them, and Edwina found herself wondering how she would pay for the hotel. She would have to wire her father’s office in San Francisco. Suddenly she was having
to solve problems that only a week ago she had never even thought of.

They had radioed the White Star Line’s London office from the ship and asked them to notify Uncle Rupert and Aunt Liz that all of the Winfield children had survived, but Edwina knew that her aunt would be hard hit by the news of the loss of her only sister. She had also radioed her father’s office with the same information. There was suddenly so much to think about, and as she stared out into the New York mist, suddenly a flotilla of tugboats came into view, there was a shrill whistle blast, and then suddenly there were salutes from every boat in the harbor. The spell of the somber silence they had all lived with for four days was about to be broken. It had never occurred to Edwina and Phillip that their tragedy would be big news, and suddenly as they looked at the tugs and yachts and ferries below, crowded with reporters and photographers, they both realized that this was not going to be easy.

But Captain Rostron was as good as his word, and no one except the pilot boarded the
Carpathia
before they reached the pier. And the photographers had to satisfy themselves with whatever photographs they could take from the distance. The lone photographer who had snuck on board had been seized and confined to the bridge by the captain.

They reached Pier 54 at 9:35
P.M.
, and for a moment all was silent on the ship. Their terrible journey was about to be ended. The lifeboats from the
Titanic
had been taken off first, the davits had been moved into place, and the boats lowered as they had been when they left the sinking ship four days before, only this time the boats were lowered with only a single seaman in each, as the survivors stood at the rail and watched while lightning bolts lit up the night sky, and thunder exploded overhead. The sky seemed to be crying over
the empty boats, as the mourners watched them, and even the crowd below stood in silent awe as they were made fast and left there bobbing in the water. And it would be only a matter of hours before looters stripped them.

Alexis and George had joined Edwina and Phillip as the lifeboats were lowered toward the deck, and Alexis started to cry as she clutched Edwina’s skirt. She was frightened by the storm, and her eyes were wild with fear as she watched the lifeboats go down and Edwina held her close as Kate had always done. But in the last few days, Edwina had felt like such an inadequate replacement for their mother.

“Are we … going in them again?” Terrified, Alexis could barely speak as Edwina tried to reassure her. And Edwina could only shake her head. She was crying too hard to answer … those boats … those tiny shells … and so precious few of them … had there been more, the others would have been alive….

“Don’t cry, Lexie … please don’t cry….” It was all she could say to her as she held her tiny hand. She couldn’t even promise her that everything would be alright again. She no longer believed it herself, so how could she make empty promises to the children? She felt as though her heart were filled with sadness.

Edwina saw, as she looked at the pier, that there were hundreds if not thousands of people waiting there. At first, it looked like a sea of faces. And then, as lightning lit up the sky again, she saw that there were more. There were people everywhere. The newspapers said later that there were thirty thousand at the pier, and ten thousand lining the banks of the river. But Edwina was unaware of most of them. And what did they matter now? The people she loved were gone, her parents and Charles. There was no one waiting for them there. There was no one left in the world to care for them. It
was all on her shoulders now, and even poor Phillip’s. At sixteen, he was no longer a child, he would have to become a man, a burden he had willingly assumed from the moment they were saved, but it seemed so unfair to Edwina as she looked at him, telling George to put his coat on and stand next to Alexis. It made Edwina sad all over again, just looking at them, in their ragged clothes and ravaged faces. They all suddenly looked like what they were. All of the Winfield children were now orphans.

The
Carpathia
passengers disembarked first. There was a long wait then, as the captain gathered all the others in the dining saloon where they had slept for three days, and he said a prayer, for those lost at sea, and for the survivors, for their children and their lives. There was a long moment of silence then, and only the sounds of gentle sobbing. People said good-bye to each other then, a touch on the arm, an embrace, a last look, a shake of the head, a touch of the hand for a moment, and then they shook hands with Captain Rostron. There was little that anyone could say, as the silent group left each other for the last time. They would never be together again, yet they would always remember.

Two of the women reached the gangplank first, hesitated, started to turn back, and then walked down slowly with tears streaming down their faces. They were friends from Philadelphia, and they had both lost their husbands, and they stopped midway as a roar went up from the crowd. It was a roar of sorrow, and of grief, of sympathy, and fascination, but it was a terrifying sound, and poor little Alexis dove into Edwina’s skirts again with her hands over her ears and her eyes closed, and Fannie set up a terrible wail as Phillip held her.

“It’s alright … it’s alright, children….” Edwina tried to reassure them, but they couldn’t hear her above the din. And she was horrified as she watched reporters
dash forward and engulf the exhausted survivors. The flash of cameras exploded everywhere, as the heavens rained, and the lightning bolts continued to flash across the sky. It was a terrible night, but no more so than the night that had brought them all to this end only days before. That was the worst night of their lives, and this … this was only one more. Nothing more could happen to them now, Edwina felt, as she gently shepherded her brothers and sisters toward the gangplank. She had no hat, and she was soaked to the skin, as she carried Alexis, who clung to her neck with trembling desperation. Phillip carried each of the two youngest ones in his arms, and George walked right beside him looking very subdued and more than a little frightened. The crowd was so huge, it was hard to know exactly what they would do. And Edwina realized as they reached the end of the gangplank that people were shouting names at them.

“Chandler!… Harrison!… Gates? Gates!… Have you seen them?…” They were family members and friends, desperately looking for survivors, but with each name, she shook her head, she knew none of them … and in the distance, she saw the Thayers being embraced by friends from Philadelphia. There were ambulances and cars everywhere, and again and again, the explosions of light coming from the reporters. There were wails from the crowd, and sobs, as the survivors shook their heads at the names being called out to them. Until then, no complete list of the survivors had been published and there was always hope that the news was wrong, that a loved one may have in fact survived the disaster. The
Carpathia
had refused to communicate with the press, maintaining a barrier of silence around the survivors for their own protection. But now Captain Rostron could no longer do anything to shield them.