Cold All the Way Through, But Warming

The Perfect Target

I found myself pacing the promenade by the bridge, my eyes constantly going to the white water that foamed around the ship as we cut through the seas. Rigel panted as we took another lap, and I briefly slowed up to allow him a rest. I wasn't the only thing going slow.

Lusitania was far slower than had been promised.

The past few days when the mile lottery announcements had been made, and I found myself one of the few who seemed to realize exactly how slow we were traveling. I couldn't tell the exact speed we were doing, but having crossed on her speedy sister, I knew our ship was lagging behind. Not to mention, during my walks on the promenade, I had noticed that her fourth funnel, painted the same dull dark gray as the others as opposed to the usual cheery red and black Cunard preferred, remained quiet. No smoke issued up, no steam hissed through its pipes, it was silent.

Hence my vigil outside the bridge, I was hoping to speak to Captain Turner about exactly why we were going so slow. At this rate we might not even make Liverpool on time. But the captain had yet to make an appearance, and I had been waiting for hours despite the fact that the weather still had not improved. Alfred had accompanied me for about ten minutes before declaring me insane and retreating to the smoking room.

The weather at least kept Theodate and Elbert away.

Theodate had tried to join me for breakfast the day after the séance, complaining of how she had her cabin moved due to a noisy family next door. Part of me congratulated the children for annoying her, and part of me dearly hoped that she had not been moved closer to me. I had shaken her off when Rigel had been brought to me during a promenade, she was rather jumpy around him. A large dog was apparently more than this great medium could handle. Rigel had put a paw on her leg, and she had almost jumped a foot backwards before hastily excusing herself.

Elbert had pestered me once again about speaking to him about Titanic, how I had met Will and the loss of Father. He seemed to think that there was some great romance to be found in the tragedy, I had demurred again and again about giving an interview. He wouldn't get a word out of me, despite his attempts. Which meant that I had been forced to sit and listen to him wax rhapsodic about the great tragedies of the world.

The Civil War, the Titanic, the war currently raging, all of them described so eloquently by Elbert that others had come to join our table simply to hear him speak of it. And then Elbert's artist community, Roycroft, had been brought up. That had led to a lecture on the evils of modern fashion and how there was no spirit to artistry in New York.

I was dearly glad when Rigel had whined and tugged at his leash, freeing me from any obligation to listen to them insult my friends and family.

After giving him the slip, I had enjoyed time in the reading and writing room, wandering the shelter and promenade deck, and counting down the miles to Liverpool, where hopefully the weather was better. I shivered, thinking about the hours I had spent out here waiting to speak to the captain. The lounge sounded wonderful, warm and with a drink in my hand, and I pursed my lips when I looked to the bridge and saw only a senior officer outside. I marched up to the railing separating the bridge, calling out. "Sir, is Captain Turner available?"

He looked over his shoulder, then approached. "Ma'am?"

"I'd like to speak to Captain Turner." I held my head high. "Is he available at the moment?"

The officer pursed his lips. "Ma'am-"

"Mrs. Murdoch."

"Mrs. Murdoch, if this is about the lifeboat drills, Captain Turner already assured Mr. Kessler that he will consider his suggestion about passenger involvement."