A few letters defended the violence, continuing the argument that they all had to show solidarity or they would soon be ruled by Rome. These letters brought immediate and profound protest. They would not be ruled by Rome or by bullies. People were demanding a third choice.
“This is unprecedented in Irish history,” Sam said as he and Casey filled out their journals one night. He held his up, the title of the first page a clearly written, Time Travel Journal #3.
“We’ve made a difference, Casey. It’s true that movements come and go. I have no idea if this one will be successful. But we’ve made a difference.”
Chapter 35
March 1911—April 1911
Casey tucked a just-awake Terry into bed with her and lay down to nurse her a while. Sunday morning was Casey’s favorite time of the week. The servants all had the day off, and most had left the night before to spend the day with their families. Sam usually had breakfast with Mrs. Pennyworth in her small apartment off the kitchen, so Tom and Casey had the rest of the house to themselves. She drifted back to a light sleep, Tom snoring on the other side of Terry. Casey waited for the usual Sunday morning ritual to begin.
The bed gave a sudden strong bounce, jarring her awake as a cannonball landed on Tom, announcing, “It’s Sunday! Pancakes!” Terry, who had been sleepily nursing, pulled away with a jerk that made Casey gasp. The baby ignored her mother, crawling quickly to join Jamie on top of Tom, who grabbed them both, growling ferociously and managing to fall out of bed, the children tucked safely in his arms as they screamed with delight.
Casey had long ago discovered it was best for her to leave the room, as she got too nervous watching them roughhouse. All three of them would be mightily disappointed if she put a stop to it. So she put on a robe and headed to the kitchen where one day a week, she got to cook for her family. They would join her there, Tom and Jamie helping her cook and set the table.
Several minutes later, Jamie entered at a run and stopped in front of his mother, an envelope held out to her. “This is for you!” he shouted and she barely grabbed it before he was across the room, trying to avoid his father and sister, who were obviously “it.”
It was one of Tom’s formal stationary envelopes. Her name was on the front and she could feel a card inside. She glanced curiously at Tom. “What’s this? It’s not my birthday.”
Terry had managed to grab her brother, but since she still did not understand the game, she hadn’t let go of him. Tom set her on the floor to wrestle Jamie alone as he turned to Casey, pulling her into a hug. “Why don’t you open it and find out?”
She slipped her arms around his neck. “Okay, I will. After I get a kiss.”
He obliged her, but only briefly, distracted by the clatter of pans. Left alone, she broke the seal and pulled out the card, scanning it quickly. At her little scream of delight, Tom turned back to her, the rescued baby in his arms, his face hopeful and happy at her reaction. Jamie jumped up to see.
“What is it? What does it say?” he yelled, trying to pull the card down so he could see.
She held it away from him and read aloud, “Mrs. Thomas Andrews, Jr. (that’s me)” she said in an aside to Jaime, “is invited to attend a private tour, this afternoon, of the RMS Olympic, in dry-dock at Harland & Wolff Shipyards. H&W promises to provide Mrs. Andrews with her own attentive, knowledgeable, and affectionate guide…, oh my,” she looked teasingly at Tom, who grinned salaciously at her. She continued reading, “…with access to all parts of the ship (safety permitting). Extra events are also planned, for her special enjoyment!”
Casey laughed with delight and hugged Tom hard, being careful of the baby. He hugged her back with his free arm, laughing with her. “I was hoping you would like it, sweetie. I’ve got quite a day planned!”
“I can’t wait! Oh my goodness, what should I wear?” She turned to Jamie with her question.
He stood with his legs straddled, arms folded over his chest as he pouted at his parents. “I want to see the RMS ‘lympic.”
“You will,” his father assured him. “But not today.”
Tom was not as strict as Edwardian child-rearing practices demanded, but Jamie knew better than to argue. He did, however, try to negotiate. “Tomorrow?”
Casey giggled and left Tom to deal with it as she continued with breakfast.
At two o’clock, they pulled up to the Yard. Tom, looking quite dapper in a neckband shirt, bowtie, twill vest and tweed cap, helped her out of the car with a gallant bow. She wore a red-orange blouse that brought out some color in her pale skin. She smiled as Tom stopped to gaze at her, then bent to kiss her gently on the lips. She shook her head. “Sometimes, Tom, you still make me blush.”
Squeezing her hand, he offered her his arm and guided her through the empty and silent building to the docks. As they stepped outside, Tom turned her to the right and she followed willingly. The Olympic was berthed at the Thompson Dock during her fitting-out, but just to the left, under the huge gantry, the shell of the Titanic loomed over the yard. I don’t want to see it, she thought, and with an effort controlled the shudder that threatened to shake her. Tom began prattling on about recent changes to the yard and she knew he was trying to keep her distracted. Then they turned the corner.
The Olympic towered over the dock, her funnels gleaming in the sun, her rails and hull newly painted, emphasizing her clean lines. Casey stared, struck silent in awe. Pictures in textbooks or movies just didn’t compare to the sight of the real thing, elegant and proud, as she waited here in the place of her birth. Tom smiled at her expression.
“Have we really managed to amaze the time traveler who’s flown on airplanes and seen spaceships?” he murmured, holding her from behind as she gazed at the ship. She tilted her head to look up at him.
“She’s magnificent, Tom. Airplanes and space shuttles were the workhorses of our day. This,” she looked again toward the ship, “is a work of art.”
He took her hand and led her through the cargo hold on the tank top. He lit a waiting lantern and held it up.
“I’m afraid we don’t have electricity today, except in a few spots. We should be able to see well enough, though.”
She nodded, distracted by the cavernous bay, and began walking the length of it, craning her neck to see how high it was.
“This is the top of the double bottom,” Tom mentioned, pointing to the deck they stood on. “We store fresh water below.”
There were compartments. Tom showed her the watertight doors that could be lowered automatically from the bridge, but at this point, everything was open. There was room for cargo, she saw the coal bunkers, and Tom told her that the huge casings rising from the deck to reach into the deck above them, were the foundations of the engines.
He helped her up a ladder to the next deck. There were more coal bunkers and boilers, and she had a good look at the engines, which continued upward into the next deck. There was a mail sorting room, food storage, and more storage for cargo or passenger luggage, as well as vehicles.
“Vehicles?” Casey looked askance at Tom and he just shrugged.
“Some people like to take their automobiles with them. Or they buy them in Europe and ship them to America.”
She nodded, then. “That’s right. I remember in the movie, there was a car stored on the ship.” She hugged him gently, dropping a flirtatious kiss on his chest. “Two of the actors made love in it in one scene.”