No Greater Love (5 page)

“I’d rather have you, Bertram Winfield. I don’t need all that.”

“I suppose I should be grateful.” He smiled down at her, thinking of the years they had shared, the happiness, the joys, the sorrows. They had a good life, and they were not only lovers but good friends.

“I hope Edwina and Charles have what we do one day.” She spoke quietly, and this time Bert knew she meant it.

“So do I.” And despite the chill air that had come on them that afternoon, he stopped and pulled his wife into his arms and kissed her hard. “I want you to know how much I love you,” he whispered to her, and she smiled. He looked much more serious than usual, and she gently touched his face before kissing him again.

“Are you alright?” He seemed so intense, which was unusual for him.

He nodded. “Yes, I am … but sometimes it doesn’t hurt to say the words instead of just think them.” They walked on hand in hand. It was Sunday afternoon, and that morning they had attended Captain Smith’s divine service and prayed for “Those at Sea.” It was a quiet
day, and it was growing so cold that almost everyone had gone indoors now. They stopped and looked at the gym, and saw Mrs. Candee there, with young Hugh Woolner. Bertram and Kate walked on after that, and finally decided to go inside for tea. It was just too cold to stay outside any longer. And once inside, they noticed John Jacob Astor having tea with his young wife, Madeleine, in a corner of the lounge, and then they saw George, with Alexis in tow, having tea with two elderly ladies across the room.

“Will you look at him?” Bert grinned. “God only knows what that boy is going to do when he grows up. I shudder to think sometimes.” He left Kate at their table in the lounge, and went over to introduce himself to the two elderly ladies who were entertaining his children. He thanked them profusely for their kindness, and eventually brought the children back to the table where Kate was waiting for them. “What on earth are you doing here?” He asked on the way back, and with a look of amusement at Alexis who had seemed quite comfortable with two strangers, which was rare for her, “And what did you do with Oona?”

George was perfectly happy to answer.

“She went to visit her cousin downstairs, and she left the little ones with a stewardess. I told her I was bringing Alexis to you,” he said, shrugging happily, “and she believed me.”

“George took me to the gym,” Alexis announced proudly, “and the swimming pool, and we rode up and down in all the elevators. And then he told me we’d have to find someone to give us little cakes, so we did. They were very nice,” she announced matter-of-factly with her angelic face, satisfied with her big adventure. “I told them that tomorrow is my birthday.” Which was true. Kate had ordered a birthday cake for her the day before, and Charles Joughin, the head baker, had promised
to make it with white icing and pink roses, and it was going to be a surprise for Alexis.

“Well, I’m glad you two had such a lovely time.” Bert was still amused by them, and even Kate laughed as she listened to Alexis’s descriptions of what they’d done. “But perhaps next time you’d better come with us, instead of inviting yourselves to tea with strangers.” George grinned at them both, and Alexis cuddled up to Kate, who gently kissed her cheek, and held her close to her. Alexis loved being near to her mother like that, she loved her warmth and her softness, and the feel of her hair when she turned her head, and the smell of her perfume. There was a special bond between the two. There was no denying it, it just was, and it didn’t mean Kate loved the others less. It just meant that at certain times, Alexis was very special. Kate loved all of the others, too, but there was a kind of need Alexis had for her that none of the others seemed to have, which was just as well. It was as though Alexis had never quite pulled away from her, and perhaps she never would, and perhaps, Kate sometimes thought, perhaps she would never have to. At times Kate hoped that she could keep her close to her forever, particularly if Edwina went to live in England.

Edwina and Charles came into the lounge from outdoors a little while later, after their stroll. They waved as they saw Bert and Kate. Edwina was still trying to warm her hands as she approached them.

“It’s freezing out there, isn’t it, Mama?” Edwina was smiling again. She was always smiling now. Kate thought that she had never seen anyone as happy, except herself maybe when she married Bert. It was almost as though they were made for each other. And Mrs. Straus had mentioned it, too, she had noticed the young couple more than once, and commented on them to Kate,
about what a lovely young couple they made, and she hoped they would be very happy.

“I wonder why it’s so cold,” Edwina said to her father as they ordered tea and buttered toast. “It’s much colder than it was this morning.”

“Our course is quite far north. If we keep an eye out tonight, we might even see a few little growlers,” he said, referring to tiny icebergs.

“Is that dangerous?” Edwina looked concerned, as their tea and toast arrived, but her father shook his head reassuringly.

“It’s not dangerous to a ship like this. You’ve heard what they say about the
Titanic.
She’s unsinkable. It would take a lot more than an iceberg to sink a ship like this, and besides I’m sure that if there is any concern, the captain is proceeding with great caution.” In fact, they had been going close to twenty-three knots all day, which was a good speed for the
Titanic.
And by that afternoon, as they sipped tea and ate toast, the
Titanic
had already received three ice warnings from other ships, the
Caronia
, the
Baltic
, and the
Amerika
, but Captain Smith had not reduced their speed yet. He didn’t feel he had to, he was keeping a careful watch on all conditions. He was one of White Star’s most experienced captains. And after years with the line, he was retiring after this final prestigious trip.

Bruce Ismay, the head of the White Star Line, was on board too. And he had seen one of the ice warnings earlier as well. He had pocketed it after he and the captain had discussed it.

Kate put the children to bed herself that night, because Oona had gone back to steerage again to visit her cousin, and a stewardess had promised to baby-sit until she returned. But Kate didn’t really mind. She liked taking care of the children herself, actually she preferred it. She noticed though that it was even colder than it had
been earlier, as she took out extra blankets and tucked the children in more warmly.

When they went to the A la Carte Restaurant that night, and stepped outside for just a second to get some air, it seemed to be absolutely freezing. They were chatting on the way to dinner about Phillip’s having found a girl. For several days, he had been staring at her from the deck above. She was in second class, and she was a lovely-looking girl, but there was no way he was ever going to meet her. She had glanced shyly up at him several times, and he dutifully went back to the same spot every day in the hope that he would see her again. And today, Kate feared that he had caught a dreadful cold standing out in the freezing weather. But the girl had apparently been a great deal more sensible, or perhaps her parents were. She hadn’t shown up, and Phillip had been depressed all afternoon, and finally decided not to come to dinner at all.

“Poor thing,” Edwina sympathetically said to her mother as they took their seats at the table. Her father was having a word with Mr. Guggenheim, and then stopped briefly to say something to W. T. Stead, the well-known journalist and writer. He had written several articles for the Winfield newspaper in San Francisco several years before. And then finally, Bertram joined them.

“Who was that man you were talking to, dear?” Kate was curious. She had recognized Stead, but she didn’t know the other man.

“Benjamin Guggenheim. I met him in New York a number of years ago,” he explained, but on this subject he did not appear to be expansive. And Kate knowingly wondered if it was because of the woman he was with, a striking blonde, but something told her she was not his wife, and when she asked, her husband did not look inclined to discuss it with her.

“Is that Mrs. Guggenheim?”

“I don’t believe so.” The subject was closed, and Bert turned to Charles and asked if he had correctly guessed the day’s run. It was five hundred and forty-six miles that day, and Bert had not guessed it correctly yet, but Charles had, and had won a little money doing so, on the first day.

The crossing had actually been a wonderful opportunity for them to get to know each other. And thus far, Bert and Kate liked what they had seen of Charles, and knew that their daughter was going to be very happy once they were married.

“Can I interest anyone in a brisk walk?” Bert suggested when they left the nightly concert in the reception room, but when they set foot outside, it was much too cold. It was absolutely glacial, and the stars were shining brightly.

“My God, it’s cold,” Kate shivered despite her furs. “It’s unbelievably cold tonight.” But the night was crystal clear, and what none of them knew was that the radio operator had gotten warnings from two more ships, during dinner, about nearby icebergs. But all concerned were certain they had nothing to fear.

It was ten-thirty when they went downstairs to B Deck, and Bert and Kate chatted softly while they undressed, as Charles and Edwina continued talking over champagne in the parlor they all shared.

It was eleven when Kate and Bertram went to bed, and turned off the light, at approximately the same moment that the nearby
Californian
radioed the
Titanic
about the ice they had just seen. But the
Titanic’
s radio operator, Phillips, was frantically exchanging personal messages from the passengers to the relay station at Cape Race in Newfoundland. Phillips had sharply told the
Californian
not to interrupt him. He had dozens of messages from passengers yet to send, and he had heard
about the ice before. But this time he did not think it necessary to warn the captain. The captain had seen the same messages before, too, and had not been impressed by them, so the
Californian
rang off, and did not give this particular iceberg’s location. Phillips went on sending his messages to Cape Race, and Kate and Bertram drifted off to sleep, while the children dreamed in their rooms nearby and Edwina and Charles nestled together on the couch in the parlor and talked about their hopes and dreams as the hour approached midnight.

They were still talking when there was a faint shudder of the ship, a kind of jarring, as though they’d hit something, but there was no major jolt, and nothing dramatic occurred. So they both knew that whatever it was, it couldn’t have been very important. They continued talking for a few minutes after that, and then suddenly Edwina realized that a certain hum was gone, and with it a familiar impression of vibration. The ship had stopped, and for the first time Charles looked concerned.

“Do you think something’s wrong?” Edwina looked worried, as he glanced out the window on the starboard side, but he could see nothing.

“I don’t think so. You heard what your father told you today. This ship’s unsinkable. They’re probably just resting the engines, or changing course, or readjusting something. I’m sure it’s nothing.” But he picked up his coat anyway, and kissed her gently on the lips. “I’ll go take a look and let you know what it is in a minute.”

“I’ll come too.”

“It’s too cold outside, Edwina. You stay here.”

“Don’t be silly. It’s colder than this at my uncle Rupert’s house, inside, over breakfast.” He smiled, and helped her into her mother’s fur coat. He was sure that nothing was wrong. And whatever it was, he was sure they were readjusting it, and they’d be on their way again before long.

In the halls, they encountered other curious passengers, like themselves, people in nightgowns and far coats, still in white tie and ballgowns, or bathrobes and bare legs. It seemed that a number of people, including John Jacob Astor, sensed something amiss and wanted to know what had happened. But a tour around the deck told them nothing more except what they already knew, that the ship was stopped, and three of the four great funnels were blowing steam into the night sky. But there appeared to be no visible sign of danger. There were no great mysteries to be solved, nothing major seemed to be amiss, and a steward finally explained that they had “struck a little ice,” but there was nothing to worry about. Mr. Astor went back to his wife, and Charles and Edwina went back inside to get out of the cold, and were told that they had nothing to fear. In fact, if they wanted to see it, a little bit of the ice could still be seen in the third-class recreation area, and there were people on deck, facing the stern, watching the steerage passengers far below throw snowballs and chunks of ice as they laughed.

But the thrill of that did not appeal to Charles or Edwina and having determined that nothing was seriously amiss, they decided to go back to their staterooms. It was five minutes before midnight by then, and when they got back to their private parlor, they found Bertram waiting for them with a worried frown.

“Is something wrong with the ship?” He was whispering because his wife was still asleep, but he’d been worried since the engines stopped.

“Doesn’t appear to be,” Charles answered right away, dropping his heavy coat on a chair, as Edwina peeled off her mother’s fur coat. “Apparently, we’ve hit some ice, but no one seems particularly concerned. The crew seem to be taking it in stride, and there’s nothing to see on deck.” Charles looked relaxed, and Bertram seemed
relieved. He felt a little foolish for being worried about it now, but he was a man with a family, and he had wanted to be sure that all was well. He said good night to them then, told Edwina not to stay up too late, and went back to bed, at exactly 12:03, just as far below the decks the stokers fought furiously to put out the huge ship’s fires in her boilers, and water gushed across the mail room floor. The
Titanic
had indeed hit an iceberg and her first five so-called watertight compartments were full of water, from the gash the iceberg had caused. On the bridge, Captain Smith, Bruce Ismay, the head of the White Star Line, and Thomas Andrews, the ship’s builder, stood in disbelief and tried to determine just how desperate was the situation.