Of Heartbeats and Stardust

Of Marriage and Captains

Wednesday night, around 7 p.m, April 10th, aboard the RMS Titanic

Night came sooner than expected and Winnie sat on an empty crate just a ways from the very front of the boat. She was spread out in leisure, holding an unlit cigarette in her mouth. She looked up at the sky and sighed. "I wish every night was like this."

"Why, hello there," a slurred voice said from next to her. Winnie shot up, inching back as she was faced with a fat, red-faced man.

"Hello, sir," Winnie answered, rolling her eyes. She had dealt with enough drunk men in Totnes; she didn't think there were any on Titanic.

"Why would such a lovely mermaid be up on deck like this; you should be in the pool."

Winnie stifled a laugh. "Oh, ya' know, I just felt like flopping around for awhile," she said. "Look, out there is where I usually am." She pointed to the open sea and the man turned to look. As he did, Winnie reached into his pocket, nicking a tin of cigarettes and a pretty copper watch.

The man looked back at her and nodded. "Aye, that's a nice view. You should be getting back to it." He smiled with his eyes closed.

"I certainly will," Winnie answered. Before she could make her exit, a strong hand grabbed her shoulder. Winnie was beginning to think this was a trend now. But it wasn't another drunk 2nd class man. It was, in fact, the captain of the ship.

Winnie tensed, shuffling nervously.

"Evening, sir. What might be the problem?" the captain asked. "No problem, sir," the drunk man answered. "Just wondering what a mermaid might be doing here."

The captain seemed confused for a moment, but caught on soon. "I see," he mumbled. He called a crew member over to escort the man back to his bunk, and then turned to Winnie. "And you. Miss..."

Winnie began to panic. She couldn't give her real name, else he might check the passenger records and see that she wasn't on the list. But she didn't know what name to give. "Ms...Lowe!" she exclaimed in her best upper class accent. "Or, uh, Mrs. Lowe."

"Oh! Mrs.Lowe. I never knew Harold had a wife," the captain marveled.

Winnie chuckled through clenched teeth. "He...doesn't talk about me much."

Speak of the devil. Harold himself came wondering in, eyes widening at the sight of Winnie next to the captain. He saluted respectfully.

"Ah! Harold! We were just speaking about you!" the captain exclaimed. "You were?" Harold asked, his shoulders seeming to slump.

The captain nodded. "Yes! You never told me you were married, Harold! I would've liked to meet your wife!"

Harold did a double take. He was screwed either way. If he said he didn't know her, the captain would wonder how she knew his last name. If he said he was married to her, there would be too many questions and she would have to stick around.

He flipped a coin.

"Yes! Ha ha! My wife! We were married a few years ago. Kept it quite quiet, sir. My apologies."

The captain waved it off. "No worries, Harold. Get some sleep; your wife looks tired. fourth officer will take over. Go on then."

Harold nodded with a tense smile. He took Winnie's hand and began walking away. Once they were out of sight of the captain, he dropped her hand and glared at her.

"What in God's name is wrong with you?"

Winnie frowned. "I'm sorry. I got trapped with a drunk bloke cause he came and started talking."

She followed him like a lost puppy as he continued on to the officer's quarters. "I panicked; didn't want to give my name. But I didn't know anyone else's but Fred's and Leonard's, and they don't have an extra ticket. I figured Captain wouldn't ask any questions."

Harold scowled but waved it off. "Can't be helped now," he grumbled. "The officers each have their own room. So you'll have to stay in my quarters until we're off this damn boat."

Winnie shrugged. She had slept in much worse than the bed of a finicky officer; stables and trash mounds, riverbeds and under bridges. She didn't mind at all.

"Can I get me bag from third class?"

"No," Harold answered. "Ask one of your little friends to get it. You can' be seen going to the 3rd class things any longer. You are now considered the wife of an officer. You can't be seen doing things a common street rat would do. And that includes what you've got on. I'll get you something more decent."

Winnie glanced down at her torn and dirtied clothing. She had never really considered anyone would be offended by it.

They reached the quarters and Harold held the door open. Winnie stepped in and her mouth dropped. "Look at that!" she exclaimed, quiet enough to not make a scene. "Why's everything so expensive on this ship?"

Harold watched her with weary eyes. "Here," he said, throwing her a long white shirt. "Change into that to sleep, lest you get your dirty cloth on my bed sheets. You can have the couch. Tomorrow you'll be more presentable, tonight, I'm afraid that's all I can do."

Winnie nodded dismissively as she stroked the shirt. "So soft," she whispered. She rubbed it against her dirty cheek. "Can't remember a time I felt something this soft."

Harold watched her with a small smile on his face. He had forgotten what it was like for someone to be amazed by something so simple. All those first class passengers were used to luxurious items, but Winnie was fascinated with just a clean cotton shirt.

He sat next to her. "How do you wash your clothes when they're dirty?" he asked, glancing down at her skirt with patches sewn in. It looked like it hadn't been washed in a century.

"I just jump in the stream for a bit," she answered. Harold would've felt pity but she said it with such normality that he couldn't. He felt a twinge in his chest but shook it off.

"You had better get changed. Try to wash off some of that dirt in the sink. I'd like to keep my pillow a bit white."

Winnie bristled in indignation but said nothing. She shuffled to the sink and splashed water on her face. It was cold and salty but she hadn't bathed since she left for South Hampton.

She scrubbed her cheeks with a towel Harold provided. They felt raw after she was done, but when she ran a hand over them, no dirt came off so it was ok. She washed off her feet and legs, waiting for Harold to leave so she could change into the white shirt.

She felt a lot better after that.

Harold came back in and nodded in approval. "Better." He gestured to the couch and she sat down. He took the bed and threw her a quilt. "Use that; it gets cold at night."

She took it and smiled gratefully. "Thank you."

Harold did not answer as he laid down, putting a pillow over his head.

Winnie too laid down, restraining herself from raving about how soft the quilt was. "Good night," she called. Harold answered with a grumble.