Wanderers and Stargazers

INTERLUDE: THE GIRL

April 10, 1912

If this son of a bitch didn't stop disrespecting him, he was going to leap over the counter and punch him in the face, thought Harold.

And he'd do it, too. Wouldn't be the first time he popped some bastard for being arrogant or pompous. Harold did not suffer fools gladly - not at all. Normally, of course, it wouldn't do to engage in such antics in his employer's office, but this was a rather dire and unusual situation. He was under pressure to produce that key, and this man was being utterly uncooperative - defiant, even, though he was little more than a clerk and knew he was talking to a ship's officer.

Blair, the former second, had been bumped from the ship's roster only a day ago. That had not only upset him, but also the two officers above him - Murdoch and Lightoller - who had both had to move down a rank for the new Chief Officer, Wilde. As second officer, Blair had held the key to the cabinet holding the glasses for the crow's nest, and although he was supposed to pass it to the new second, Lightoller, before he left, he hadn't. After some frantic entreaties from the Captain, Blair had promised to leave it at the White Star office. Hence, Harold's mission: errand boy for Lightoller, who had better things to do on sailing day. And Lightoller, who already seemed to despise him for reasons that Harold couldn't quite comprehend, would never accept excuses if he returned empty-handed. Cynically, Harold wondered if Lightoller had sent him on a mission he knew would be fruitless in advance, just to upbraid him for failing.

His temper rising with his desperation, he barked, "Mr. Blair was to leave it at this office this morning. It was his duty to see to the key on this trip, and when he was reassigned, he forgot to give it to Mr. Lightoller. Even if he did not bring it here, there has to be a spare somewhere, perhaps in the back?"

And yet the man either didn't grasp the importance of the situation, or he didn't care. His smug and condescending reply about missing the maiden voyage if he didn't hurry made Harold see red, and he finally snapped.

"Bloody hell! You expect us to sail without binoculars? Into the North Atlantic, during iceberg season? We may as well sail blind, you bleeding arsehole!"

The man said something after that as well, but Harold was too exasperated at that point; he had had enough. His fist clenched, and he had to will himself to relax. Punch this man, and he'd lose his berth for sure - and he was so damn close to achieving everything he had dreamed of since he was a boy. But his anger threatened to overwhelm him, putting all of that at risk. Didn't this lazy sod understand-

And then a voice cut through the haze of his rage. Gentle but firm. Female; Irish lilt. "Excuse me - I apologize for overhearing your conversation, but I may be able to help."

What the hell? He whirled around, ready to face this new, unwelcome intrusion with more harsh words...

And found himself looking into the most extraordinary eyes he had ever seen.

They were sea-green, and they reminded him so much of the ocean that for a moment he felt he would drown in them. But it wasn't just the color that caught his attention - it was what they revealed: a soul as deep and calm as a clear, bottomless lake. Now that wasn't something he saw every day. Usually when he looked someone in the eye, his gaze bounced right back; he found most people to be shallow, without much depth or feeling at all - or at least, incapable of expressing it. But these eyes... well, it was like looking into a window; he felt like he was seeing straight into her open, honest heart.

For it was a woman he was locking eyes with - a small woman who was staring up at him with openmouthed wonder. She was looking at him strangely... as if she had known him all his life.