Titanic

{Chapter Thirty-Four}

.  .  .  .  . 

The door of Rose and Cal's suite was slammed shut after Jack had been dragged out by the Master-at-Arms. Rose squeezed her eyes closed. She could not believe the events of the evening. "I came back to tell you we had struck ice, Mother." Tears welled up in Rose's eyes. Her heart went with Jack, and she had to suppress the urge to follow him. "We've hit an iceberg," she repeated. "Jack and I saw."

Ruth placed her hands at her face. "Oh, Lord."

"I know nothing further." Rose turned to Cal. A smug grin outlined his face as he pulled a cigar from the inside of his pocket. "Are you satisfied, now?"

From inside the sitting room, the sound of knocking and voices in the corridor could be heard.

"I had better go dress." Ruth exited and Cal went to Rose. He regarded her coldly for a moment, then slapped her straight across the face. Rose's head was whipped back at the impact.

"Oh, it's a little slut, isn't it?"

She remained silent, not giving him the satisfaction of an answer. Besides, to her, the blow was inconsequential to the blow her heart had been given.

Cal grabbed her shoulders roughly. "Look at me, you little--"

There was a loud knock on the door and an urgent voice. The door opened, and their steward put his head in. "Sir, I've been told to ask you to please put on your lifebelt and come up to the boat deck."

"Get out. We're busy."

The steward persisted, coming in to get the lifebelts down from the top of a dresser. "I'm sorry about the inconvenience, Mr. Hockley, but it's Captain's orders. Please dress warmly, it's quite cold out tonight. May I suggest topcoats and hats." He handed a lifebelt to Rose, who had a hand over her stinging cheek. "Not to worry, Miss. I'm sure it's just a precaution."

"This is ridiculous." Cal didn't believe there was any reason for the interruption.

In the corridor outside, the stewards were being so polite and obsequious that they were conveying no sense of danger whatsoever.

. . . . .

However, it was another story in steerage.

Blackness. Then the door was thrown open with a bang and the light was snapped on by a steward. The Cartmell family roused from a sound sleep.

"Everybody up. Let's go. Put your lifebelts on."

In the corridor outside, another steward was going from door to door along the hall, pounding and yelling. "Lifebelts on. Lifebelts on. Everybody up, come on. Put your lifebelts on..."

People came out of the doors behind the steward, perplexed. In the foreground, a Syrian woman asked her husband what was said. He shrugged.

. . . . .

Senior Wireless Operator Phillips looked shocked. "CQD, sir?"

"That's right. The distress call. CQD. Tell whoever responds that we're going down by the head and need immediate assistance." Smith hurried out.

"Blimey." Philips was still aghast.

"Maybe you ought to try that new distress call...SOS." Junior Operator Bride grinned. "It may be our only chance to use it."

Phillips laughed in spite of himself and started sending history's first SOS. Dit, dit, dit, da, da, da, dit, dit, dit...over and over again.

. . . . .

Andrews looked around in horrified amazement. The deck was empty except for the crew fumbling with the davits. He yelled over the roar of the steam to First Officer Murdoch. "Where are the passengers?"

"They've all gone back inside. Too damn cold and noisy for them."

Andrews felt as if he was in a bad dream. He looked at his pocket watch and headed for the foyer entrance. 

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Imma bitch slap Cal!