Ship of Dreams (25 page)

He pulled her to him for another kiss. "We go on too fast. It is still possible the storm will blow itself out by morning, and that we'll reach New York only a day or two behind schedule."

A faint frown appeared between her eyes, and for a moment he though she was about to say something, but then she smiled. "You're right, of course. As long as the ship is intact, we have every chance of weathering the storm. We need only keep our courage up."

What a remarkable woman his Della was! But even she must be tired after the day she'd spent among the children. "Come, let us see if we can remain in our bunk long enough to catch a few hours of sleep," he suggested.

She nodded and sat up. "Perhaps if we tuck the blankets tightly around us, they will act as a sort of restraint against the pitching of the ship."

Kent agreed, and they took a blanket and turned it sideways so that they could tuck it in at both sides across them. Even so, and even as tired and sated as they were, they slept very little.

In the darkness, with nothing to distract him, all Kent could think about was his helplessness to protect Della should the ship founder. What use was social position, wealth, even physical strength, in such circumstances? Still, he vowed over and over to do whatever he could, even if it killed him.

Della lay silently beside him, snuggled within his arms, but he could tell by the tension in her body that she was as wakeful as he. Once or twice he nearly asked her what she was thinking about, but decided against it. If he could honestly reassure her, he wouldn't hesitate to speak, but he knew he couldn't—and he wouldn't lie to her. Not again.

It was nearly dawn when they both fell into a heavy slumber, finally oblivious to the crashing and shrieking outside the ship and the creaking and moaning within. It must have been close to noon when they were both abruptly awakened. Their restraining blanket gave way, and they were violently tossed out onto the carpet to roll against the cabin door.

Dazed, they looked at each other confusedly for a moment, and then Kent grabbed Della and braced himself for a corresponding pitch to the other side, one that might hurl them against the trunk under the porthole. But it didn't come. The floor remained pitched at an unnatural angle, with the door beneath them and the porthole above, on the opposite wall.

Della was the first to speak. "What on earth? Give me a boost, and I will look outside to see if I can determine what has happened."

He helped her to reach the bunks, and using them as a sort of ladder, she made her way to the porthole. For a long moment she was silent, and then she spoke the words he'd been dreading. "Dear God," she breathed. "I do believe the ship is sinking."

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CHAPTER 16

See! See! (I cried) she tacks no more!

Hither to work us weal;

Without a breeze, without a tide,

She steadies with upright keel!

—Samuel Taylor Coleridge

The Rime of the Ancient Mariner

Gripping tightly to the middle bunk, Della stared down at the sea, far, far below them. The wind still lashed the waves in fury, and the ship still rocked, but now it lay nearly on its side. Surely this was a very, very bad sign.

Kent made his way up the steep-pitched floor to join her at the porthole. "I fear you may be right." His voice was remarkably calm. "I'd best go out and see if there is anything I can do."

"I'm coming with you." To her relief, he didn't argue.

Quickly, they pulled on their clothing, dispensing with all but the necessary items. As soon as they unlatched the door, it swung out and down to show the dining saloon in a state of chaos. Passengers were scrambling up the slope toward them, using tables and benches, bolted to the floor, to help themselves along. Clearly, most were afraid that the other side would soon be under water, though at the moment it appeared dry enough.

Della saw the Eastons nearby, having made their way up from their stateroom opposite. "Our porthole is completely underwater," Addie informed her when she joined them. "I fear—"

But just then, Captain Herndon's voice cut through the commotion in the saloon. "All men prepare for bailing the ship! The engines have stopped, but we hope to reduce the water and start them again. She's a sturdy vessel, and if we can keep up steam we shall weather the gale."

Kent and Ansel Easton started forward at once, pausing only to take leave of the women. "We'll do everything we can," Kent assured Della. He looked almost relieved at the prospect of action.

Beside her, Addie was saying to her husband, "Oh, Ansel, if you hadn't married me, you wouldn't have been in all this trouble!"

He kissed her. "If I knew it all beforehand, I should do the same again."

And then he and Kent were gone. Della was glad to see that her husband's assurances had left Addie with a smile on her face. For a moment, the two women clung to each other, watching their men join the others to form a bailing crew at the Captain's direction. Could they really make a difference? Della had no idea.

"Come," she said rallyingly to Addie, then. "Let's see if there is anything we can do to improve the spirits of the other women, and the children."

"Yes, let's," Addie agreed, clearly as eager as Della was to keep her thoughts and hands occupied. "You were wonderful with the little ones yesterday. I wish my Spanish were as good as yours. I know only a very little."

"Only a few of the passengers do not speak English, so that should be of little importance," Della assured her. "There, I see Mrs. Ellis, poor thing. I'm sure she would like some assistance with her brood. Dr. Ellis has gone to join the bailing party."

Lynthia Ellis had the care of four children—her own three, as well as another traveling with them. She and her husband hailed from Ohio, and yesterday she and Della had spent some time talking of her home state while helping to amuse the children. Now Mrs. Ellis, one of those who had suffered most from seasickness, was even more grateful for Della's assistance, as the children were all sobbing with fear.

In contrast, young Harriet Lockwood and Augustine Pahud, both about ten years old, found the pitching of the ship and the resultant breaking of plates and glassware amusement enough. Laughing each time another dish broke, they continued to eat the meals that had been served them just before the ship heeled over, bracing themselves sideways against a table. Della rather envied them their ignorance of the danger.

More and more passengers crowded up from the lower decks, the men joining the bailing lines and the women grouping together in small, serious knots. Della and Addie gathered together as many of the children as they could—more than a dozen—and organized a game to keep them distracted and out of the way of the men. Soon, most of them were interested and took turns around the circle naming things beginning with various letters of the alphabet. Even the few who spoke only Spanish were able to play, with some assistance.

"How long can we keep this up?" Addie whispered to Della at one point, glancing anxiously in the direction the men had gone.

"As long as we have to," Della whispered back determinedly, trying to keep the grimness she felt from her voice. She didn't see how any of them would survive unless the ship could be righted and the leak stopped. At the moment, still buffeted by the high seas, both seemed unlikely prospects.

Addie nodded. "Whatever happens, we'll try to keep these little ones from being frightened until ... until the very end."

Della smiled encouragingly at her, and Addie resolutely stopped her lips from trembling and smiled back. "Now, where were we?" she asked the child nearest her, and the game resumed.

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"I'm not a man to say, 'I told you so,'" Ansel Easton murmured to Kent as they took their places in one of four bailing teams. The lines of men wound up the stairways from the hold and across the decks, to pass along buckets, pitchers and ewers of water to be emptied back into the sea where it belonged. "But—"

"But you did tell us so," Kent finished for him. "It appears your superstition may have been well founded." Mechanically, over and over, he took one water-filled vessel after another and passed it to Ansel, who passed it to the next man, who tossed out the contents and handed it back.

"What of the pumps? Why aren't they doing this job?" panted a man a few places closer to the stairs, a Mr. Jones, from Kentucky. He had earlier reminded Kent of his brother, Charles—a handsome, plausible fellow with an eye for the ladies and a high-stakes card game.

"The donkey engines, what run 'em, won't go," offered another man, a steerage passenger Kent hadn't met. "All mucked up, they are. Engineers ought to be horsewhipped."

A general murmur of indignation arose, though the buckets never slowed. They all realized that their very lives, not to mention those of their wives and children, depended on their labor.

"There's nothing to be gained right now by placing blame." Kent lifted his voice above the others. "If we survive this, no doubt there'll be an inquest. Until then, I recommend we conserve our strength for the task at hand."

No one could disagree with this, and a few minutes later Billy Birch, from his place on a lower deck, began singing—a song that was taken up by the rest, helping them to keep up their rhythm and their spirits. As the day wore on, however, everyone grew silent again as hope and energy alike waned, and still the ship listed over.

What little daylight the storm allowed was beginning to fail when Captain Herndon again came along the sloping deck. "We're going to cut away the foremast," he shouted into the gale, "and hope that will help to right the ship. The water has been lowered somewhat, so we'll try to restart the engines."

He, the first officer, the boatswain, and Captain Badger all set to work cutting through the rigging and unstepping the mast, until it fell over the side. Kent heard it give a sickening thud against the hull as it went, and offered up a silent prayer than it had not punched another hole in the ship, undoing all their efforts.

His arms felt leaden, and with each bucket he passed he wondered if he'd be able to lift the next. Several men had already fallen out of the line, to be replaced by others. Now, with the mast away, Captain Herndon gave a general order that the bailing crews work in shifts. Ashby, the chief engineer, had gathered up another group of men to take their places for a while, so that they could rest.

Passing one last bucket along, Kent gladly gave his spot to a Mr. Frederick, a German steerage passenger. Staggering with weariness, he and Ansel went below to find their wives.

Della and Addie were still in the saloon, singing with raspy voices to fifteen or twenty children, some pillowed on their mothers' laps, others clinging to each other, and some sleeping on piled blankets between the tables. Their eyes lit up at the sight of their husbands, and after finishing their song, they left the next to two of the mothers.

"Come sit down, both of you," said Della, hurrying to greet them. "You look ready to drop."

Addie threw herself into her husband's arms which, tired as they were, still had enough strength to clasp her to him. "We've been so worried about you! Virginia went to offer our assistance in the bailing to the captain, but he wouldn't allow it."

"You're doing more good here, I think," Kent told her, and Ansel nodded in agreement. "There are still quite a few men who haven't had a turn at the bailing, though I believe the women's offer motivated many more to join in. We'll be working in shifts now, until the water is out."

Della took his hand and forced him to look at her. "Is there really any hope of that?" she asked quietly.

He pressed his lips together for a moment, debating, then decided he owed her the truth. She had as much right as anyone to decide how to spend her last hours. "Very little," he finally confessed. "Cutting loose the mast didn't—"

"Look! Look!" Addie interrupted him, pointing to the ornate chandeliers suspended from the ceiling of the saloon. "The ship is righting itself."

They all turned to look. Sure enough, the lamps were slowly, slowly returning to their proper position until, after almost half an hour of breathless watching, they hung nearly perpendicular to the ceiling once again. A moment later, a dull throbbing sound signaled the restarting of the engines, and everyone in the saloon cheered.

Kent allowed himself to breathe more easily, but only for a moment. Not five minutes later, the engines stopped again, to universal groans of despair.

"But still, we are level," Addie said to all who would listen. "That puts us in better condition than we were before."

Della pulled Kent aside again. "What is it? Why could they not start the engines, do you think?"

He shook his head. "I imagine the water has reached the boilers, though I don't know. But it stands to reason that once the ship took on enough water she would right herself—before beginning to sink. I'm afraid this may not be the good sign Mrs. Easton thinks it is."