Stars On The Atlantic

II

As one of the boiler room workers onboard the Lusitania, Jerry wasn't supposed to walk about in the sections of the ship reserved for passengers, not even in the ones occupied by the third-class passengers. The Company deemed it inappropriate for the fellows working deep down in the engine rooms to wonder about the ship, all covered in sweat and blackened by coal ash. Even so, Jerry could never resist the sight of the sea. He envied the officers at the Bridge who could admire at length this infinite and impenetrable surface spreading to the horizon in every direction. Down below, in the deepest parts of the vessel, he couldn't see anything of the outside world. Though not schooled, Jerry had always hold dear to a line of poem by French poet Charles Baudelaire which his father had taught him when he was little:

« Homme libre, toujours tu chériras la mer! » 

Jerry had always aspired to freedom. Yet, at sixteen of age, he hadn't tasted much of it. His life wasn't a pleasant one, and probably wouldn't be pleasant for many a year to come, either. Silently but inexorably, he was bleeding from the many wounds which life had inflicted to him. Amongst these wounds, some were old, others were still fresh, others had never completely healed. And so, since he was a little boy, he held on tightly to the sight of the sea and to the inspiring words of Baudelaire, his only fragments of hope in a world of desolation.

As soon as he changed shifts with another worker, Jerry would rub off the coal ash from his face and arms at the common basin and slip into a spare set of clothing which he had secretly brought onboard. That way, he could almost be mistaken as a third-class passenger and walk abovedeck unnoticed for some time.

It was thus on the morning of December 23 that Jerry, escaping the inferno of the boiler rooms deep down below to breathe a few breaths of ocean breeze, set his eyes on the young girl wrapped up in a blanket and all crawled up in a long chair. Her skin was as pale as a sheet, but her red hair shone under the morning sunlight like fire. For the first time since he had been taking clandestine walks abovedeck, Jerry was tempted to engage in a conversation with a passenger, even at the risk of being discovered.

He clumsily sat in the long chair next to the girl and, undaring to establish direct eye contact, stared at her sideways in an awkward but somewhat funny manner. He made a great mental effort to find a nice way to start the conversation."Uh, seasick?" was, however, the only bright thing that he found to say.The young girl weakly raised a pair of tired eyes and, staring at the newcomer confusedly for a moment, nodded."Why, that's not pleasant," continued Jerry timidly. "Are you traveling alone, unescorted?"The girl, who had lowered her eyes again, said in a voice that sounded like the beautiful chime of a bell:"There is a crewman looking after me and the other ladies whom I share my cabin with."Her voice was faint, but her accent was unmistakably Irish."You've got family back in Ireland?" asked Jerry."Both my parents are dead," the girl replied."Oh, I am sorry for your loss.""Grown-ups always say that.""Though I ain't much of a grown-up, am I?" said Jerry laughingly.The girl raised her head further from under the blanket and looked at once at the boy she hadn't observed properly so far. Indeed, he was about the same age as her, maybe a year or two older, with a solid body frame but at the same time slim like a pole. He wore a pair of rompers and a funny hat that seemed to be the hybrid of a beret and a tuque. It was slightly too big for his head, and a few strands of greasy black hair peaked from underneath.

"Why are you wearing that hat?" she decided to ask.Jerry touched the curious attire on his head and replied:"This? It's a Scottish hat. I am from Scotland.""Why are you going to America?" she enquired."Oh, I uh, made my mind to travel the world a bit," Jerry mumbled. He wasn't expecting to be asked such a question. That was dangerous, he thought, for he almost got himself in trouble. If the boiler room chief learned that he had been wandering abovedeck and talking to passengers instead of shoving coal, he could say goodbye to his job."Traveling the world!" cried the girl, whose eyes sparked with a bit more vivacity than they had until now. "All by yourself?""Why yeah. I ain't got many relatives. Left my mother back in Scotland. My father's in Australia. Hopefully one day I shall go visit him."He stared afar at the horizon. After a few moments, he said:"I know a very good cure for seasickness."The girl looked at him, intrigued. "What is it?""Exploring! How about a tour of the ship?"The girl smiled. "Yes please." It was the first time he saw her smile. She looked radiant. She got on her feet and Jerry extended a hand to her."I'm Jerry Wilson."The girl also extended a delicate hand and shook Jerry's."Amybeth McAuley," she said, as she continued to smile.