The rest of the night (and dawn) blurred by in an excruciating haze, after what had to be the most eventful night of my life. Then I heard distant explosions, followed by large bursts of lights. At first it looked like my mind was playing tricks on me, but soon enough it became obvious that a rescue ship had arrived. A few people let out sighs of gratitude, and a few whoops of joy resonated from faraway lifeboats.
I was in the first lifeboat to be rescued from the water. I soon as I stepped on the small (compared to Titanic) ship, a blanket was thrown over my shoulders, and a warm drink was placed in my hands. I was ushered encouraged to have a seat on deck, but no one lingered. They were too busy trying to accommodate everyone coming on board. Many passengers considered themselves fortunate when they were rescued first; knowing that collecting everyone from the water would take hours. But in some aspects for me, it was worse. I got to sit on deck, and watch passenger after passenger ascend into the ship. I growing sense of dread filled me as unfamiliar faces swam before my eyes. After an hour or so of the torturous experience I forced myself to stop looking by swaying to my feet and taking a walk on deck.
The decks of the Carpathia were sectioned off according to class, although at this point it seemed rather silly: we were all standing on deck of a small ship. I walked along the other first class passengers, some of them unrecognizable without their usual jewels and fine clothing. This was the case with my mother, when I almost trailed by her absentmindedly.
Thankfully she recognized me. “Ophelia?” I snapped to look at her. Mother was pale and disheveled, much like everyone else. Her eyes looked tired, but very relieved.
“Mother...”
I was at a loss of words. How do you explain your Mother that you ran away to be with your secret lover, one whom she strictly announced off-limits?
“Oh, I thought I had lost you!” She cried, throwing her arms around me. I couldn’t remember the last time she had embraced me with such fervor. It was enough to riddle me with guilt. Again.
“Mother, I am so sorry. I...I went to Henry.” My voice almost broke at the mention of his name. She wasn’t surprised.
“I supposed as much.” She sniffled, inconsistent of her usual behavior. “I knew how you have always felt about him. And, well, disasters as this only work to show where your heart truly lies.” I remembered that I still had her ring, and with great care, fished it from my coat. She gave me a watery smile as she plucked it from my hands and cradled it closely.
It was then that the dawn’s light caught on my own ring, given to me only a few short hours ago. She immediately took my hand and examined it, turning the ring this way and that.
“I take this is from Henry?” She asked, arching a fiendish brow. I nodded shyly, feeling like bashful child with her first crush.
But Mother didn’t seem to be bothered at all and instead murmured a decisive, “Good.”
“Stanley didn’t seem to think so.” I grimaced, angling in on the unavoidable subject. Sooner or later Stanley would have to be dealt with...officially.
“Oh, I know. As soon as your late fiancée found me here he shouted at me for a good ten minutes about what a shaming daughter I raised.”
My face burned with embarrassment. “Oh, God. I am so sorry. I never meant for my actions to reflect on you.”
“Don’t feel sorry. I’ll tell you what I told Stanley: I’m proud that you had the courage to listen to your heart. I know what I said before...but for a second I thought I had actually lost you. Marriage seems like something silly in comparison to a tragedy like this.” She said wearily. “I want you to live a fulfilling life before it’s too late.”
“I...Thank you.” This type of behavior on her part wasn’t normal, but it was easy to understand her sudden reflection on life. I sat by her side for the better part of an hour, until finally the ship’s officers made sure everyone (alive) was on board, and started the engines. Panic welled up as I realized that I might be sailing away from Henry’s body altogether. Mother realized my predicament, because she started murmuring soothing words that didn’t quite register in my head.
“...Why don’t we check the list of survivors?” She offered hesitantly, breaking through my haze. I briefly remembered someone inquiring my name and jotting it down on a piece of paper.
“Yes.” She helped me up gently and weaved her arm through mine, hunting down the person in control of the list. He was a young sailor who looked like his mind was in a hundred placed at once.
“We were hoping you could give us information on our friends.” Of course we all knew by information she meant ‘dead or alive’.
“Right, Madam. Who would those people be?”
“Henry Spencer.” The name flew out of my mouth rather desperately. The man made a big show of rifling through the papers, and I wondered about how horrible his job might be. He had to look at each hopeful person and tell them their loved one had most likely perished.
“Uh...” He swallowed thickly and then cleared his throat. “There is no Henry Spencer on this list, miss. Perhaps you could try once we make port in New York...”
I blinked. Then I tried to make sense of what he told me. But before the sharp pangs of loss could strike I doubled over to the nearby railing and heaved on an empty stomach.