━━ There Will Be Time
❛ officer harold lowe
may be the first person
to ever tame the wild heart
that belongs to
miss katherine davenport. ❜
[ titanic ]
[ fifth officer harold lowe x oc...
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❛INTERLUDE TWO, the sinking according to charles lightoller ❜
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Oh, Sylvia, I'm sorry.
That was the only thought that ran through Charles Lightoller's mind as he jumped from the roof of the Officer's Quarters. Collapsible B, one of the two final lifeboats that had yet to be launched, had just fallen upside down onto the boat deck. With the bow of the ship dipping downwards and the water quickly rushing over their feet, he knew that they didn't have time to right it. One of the last chances to get off of the foundering ship safely had been ripped away by his and his crew's panicked actions.
Tonight was the night he would die, he was certain of it. As he shouted orders to his men to attempt to flip the raft over (he'd be damned if he didn't at least try to make it functional) he found himself unable to think of anything but his wife. He thought back to the last time he saw her before he left for Belfast; he had no idea that it'd be the last.
Had he kissed her enough? Told her he loved her? Did she know just how much she meant to him? He hoped so.
The ship suddenly took a drastic plunge, causing a wave of water to wash over the boat deck. Lightoller knew that if he stayed on board any longer, he risked being pulled down with the ship– or worse, sucked back inside as her windows shattered. Without a moment's hesitation, he leaped into the water.
The current took him to the starboard side. He tried to swim towards the bow, which was now completely beneath the surface of the water, but he was suddenly pulled against a blower near the forward-most funnel. The water rushing over the grate held him in place, and no matter how hard he fought, he couldn't get himself free.
What an awful way to die, he thought to himself. Being sucked down into the depths of the sea by a great ship that was thought to never sink.
He'd survived being shipwrecked on an uninhabited island, being attacked by a captured shark, and even malaria. He never once thought that he'd lose his life to the sea, even after spending over half his life working it.
Suddenly, there seemed to be a rush of air from down below. Lightoller was blown away from the grate and further out to sea. When he surfaced, coughing up mouthfuls of salty water, he found himself beside the overturned lifeboat that he'd long since abandoned on the boatdeck. He wrapped a hand around one of the ropes that hung from the boat and pulled himself onto the keel. There, he laid, exhausted, for some time.
He hadn't realized his eyes had closed until the deafening sound of metal cracking caused them to shoot open once more. He lifted his head just in time to see the forward funnel, towering high above, fall towards the sea. It landed a few mere inches away from the collapsible that Lightoller took refuge on. The wave created by the impact sent the boat flying several meters away from the ship and washed him into the sea once more.
When he came to his senses once more, he found his hand burning and his head spinning from the impact of his fall. He kicked to the surface and noticed that, miraculously, the rope he'd wrapped around his hand had kept him close to the Engelhardt collapsible as it was shot away from the ship. His hand was burned from the rope, there was no doubt about that, but it had quite possibly saved his life.
Other men nearby had the same idea as him, scrambling towards the lifeboat and clinging to the exposed hull in a desperate attempt to live. Lightoller climbed onto the keel once more, then, one by one, helped the others around him do the same. His uniform, soaked with the frigid sea water, clung to his body, but he was out of the sea.
It wasn't long after he found refuge on the overturned lifeboat that the lights of Titanic flickered off for the final time. He and the other men around him were cast into complete darkness. He could hear nothing but the screams of those still on board, as well as the painful groans of the great ship as she succumbed to the sea. Before he knew it, Titanic had been swallowed forever.
Now, he knew, they could do nothing but wait. Their survival was not guaranteed; although many of them were out of the water, the weight of so many bodies huddling together was slowly sinking the boat. The pocket of air beneath it was running out, accelerated by any small movement of anyone on board. It was only a matter of time before their precious refuge was taken out from beneath them.
Lightoller quickly told those who could stand to do so. He figured that if they could all balance their weight evenly, it would help the raft stay afloat longer. He ordered for them to lean right, then left, then center their weight in the very middle. The boat tipped to and fro, sometimes dangerously close to dumping its occupants in the sea, but thankfully, his idea seemed to work. The rate of the sinking decreased drastically, giving them more time to be rescued by any of the boats floating nearby.
It wasn't until dawn that the collapsible drifted close enough to the other boats to be seen. A cluster floated nearby, and Lightoller quickly raised his whistle to his lips and blew. Thankfully, two boats pulled away from the group and made their way over to them. It took them several minutes to reach the sinking collapsible, but once they did, and those on board began to be pulled into the upright boats, Lightoller allowed himself to collapse onto the keel with a relieved sigh.
He was the last to be pulled aboard. Now in the safety of a properly-functioning boat, all of the adrenaline that kept him going through the night left his body at once. He collapsed near the tiller; he was so exhausted that he failed to notice the familiar face sitting right beside him. That is, until he felt her wrapping a blanket over his shoulders. Her soft voice met his ears, echoing emptily through his head.
"Keep yourself warm, Mr. Lightoller."
He turned his surprised gaze onto her. In the haze of his exhaustion, she looked exactly like his dear wife. For several moments, he was convinced that it was actually her! He was tempted to pull her into a tight embrace, but then he paused. Blinking, his vision cleared, and he realized that it was, in fact, not his Sylvia.
He did, however, recognize her as the woman Officer Lowe had been swooning over for the entirety of the voyage. "Thank you, but I cannot accept it. Give it to another," he said to her.
The woman rolled her eyes and threw the blanket over his shoulders. "We need an officer now more than ever. You must keep yourself warm."
Even the way she spoke reminded him of his wife. She had an American accent, unlike Sylvia's Australian one, but her tone was similar enough that he once again had to do a double take. It made him miss his wife even more. Sighing, he closed his eyes, imagining for just a moment that it really was her beside him.
"Thank you," he then mumbled, wrapping the blanket tighter around him.
He deeply longed for Sylvia's presence. He truly believed that he wasn't going to make it through the night, but as he sat in the safety of a lifeboat, a blanket wrapped around his shivering figure, it finally hit him that he had been saved.
