If events followed the original timeline, Titanic would have hit the iceberg at 3:40 a.m., Belfast time. By 6:20, she would have sunk and Tom would be gone. Casey, fighting rising panic and despair, fainted twice, until Sam insisted she lie down on the sofa. He put a pillow under her feet and a cool rag on her forehead and forbade her to move.
At seven o’clock, the doorbell rang. Ham stood on the step, his hat in hand, his long face miserable, as he faced Sam. “Dr. Altair,” he began, and paused in shock as Casey came into view. Sam realized how strange her appearance must seem to Ham: her hair was loose and wild, her face pale and pinched, with deep lines around her mouth, her eyes groggy and unfocused.
Ham seemed to throw off his shock, though, stepping inside and gripping her shoulders. “Casey, I have some news. Let me say first that, as far as we know, Tom is okay.”
Her expression didn’t change and he took an uncertain breath. “We’re still trying to find out what’s happened, but wireless messages between ships at sea have been picked up by several news services. Mr. Kempster received a call about an hour ago from a reporter who had heard about the messages.”
He glanced at Sam, instinctively begging for help with Casey’s blankness. “Titanic hit an iceberg sometime last night. We don’t have details, so we don’t know when it happened or what the damage was. The last we heard, they’re loading people onto boats. We know that several ships are working their way to her. That’s all I know.”
Casey stared at him a moment, her hands on his chest, but before she spoke, Sam put a hand on each of them and turned them toward the parlor. “Sit down, Ham,” he directed, as he guided Casey to a divan. She went with no argument, staring blankly at the floor. Sam sat next to her, bringing his attention back to Ham. “Do you have any idea of when or how you’ll learn more?”
Ham swallowed, hard. “Carpathia is excepted to arrive within the hour. We’ll have to give them time to rescue everyone, which could take several hours. We hope to hear more sooner than that, but we’re uncertain.” He shifted as Casey’s haunted eyes moved up to watch him. “You see, they are much closer to New York than to us. The messages we’re getting are being passed on from other ships as they move in and out of range. It’s quite haphazard, I’m afraid. We’ve sent inquiries, but have not received any replies. We don’t expect to, really. We must allow them to concentrate on their situation, and understand they cannot take the time to send information.”
Casey placed a hand on Sam’s arm and stood up. Both men stood awkwardly, not sure what to expect. Her gaze at Ham was direct, with eyes that were suddenly clear. “Is there someone at the telegraph office? How is Harland & Wolff getting the information?”
“George Cummings is down there, with a few of the office boys. Since we’re not having any telegrams addressed to us, Mr. Kempster thought it best to remain on the scene. George is having the boys run information to us, although someone at the telegraph office is letting him use a phone there, too.” Ham twisted his hat and held out a hand to her. “We’re getting it in bits and pieces, Casey. I’ll return to the office and call you every time I get more news. Is that all right?”
“Has anyone contacted Tom’s parents?”
Ham shook his head. “We wanted to talk to you first.”
She nodded. “I’ll talk to them. Go back, Ham. Let me know everything. Even if it doesn’t make sense. Even if you don’t trust it. Call immediately.”
He nodded, giving her a piercing look before heading for the door. She turned to Sam, lips tight, cheeks flushed with color against her paleness.
“There’s been no change.” She was almost accusing him.
“That we know of,” he reminded her. “We really have very little news. Remember, even if the collision occurs exactly as before, we have higher bulkheads, better pumps. This will certainly give them more time. We have forty-eight lifeboats and perhaps enough time to load them up. Don’t lose hope.”
She reached for his hand. “Will you gather the staff? I’ll speak to them after I talk to Tom’s parents.”
Chapter 41
15 April 1912 Titanic, 12:08 a.m.
Captain Smith ordered all hands on deck and assigned Chief Officer Wilde to see to the lifeboats. He sent crew to wake all passengers, to tell them to dress warmly, put on their life belts and where to wait. Blankets were collected. Tom offered the help of the guarantee group. His electrician, Billy Parr, was already below, but the others could help with the lifeboats and in assembling passengers. Captain Smith agreed.
Tom took immediate action. This scenario had been discussed at length with Sam and Casey over the years, and he already knew what he wanted the guarantee group to do. “There was chaos in third class,” Sam had told them when they first discussed it a few years ago while sitting in the garden. “No one gave them instructions, and they all just waited below until it was too late. Those who tried to find the lifeboats got lost because they didn’t know their way around the ship. A lot of them didn’t speak English, and there were no translators.”
Tom knew that some stokers had probably died when the iceberg hit. He was determined to not lose another soul to this disaster. That meant taking charge of third class. He gathered the guarantee group and gave them instructions.
“Billy is staying below to help the electricians keep the lights on and the pumps working. I need the rest of you to help out with organizing people. There are about seven hundred third class passengers, and they’ve been down in steerage the whole time. They’ll not have any idea of where to go in order to find the lifeboats. I want each of you to get down there and help organize those people and bring them in groups to the boat deck. It might be helpful to locate a few capable third class men to help you with this. They’ll respond best to each other. Work with the crew that’s down there, but don’t let them tell you those people can’t come up here or can’t go through first class areas.”
“One other thing,” Tom looked for Artie Frost and pointed at him, “A lot of those people will not speak English. Artie, this’ll be like when we work with the deaf people at Mission Hall. You know how to do that. Yelling louder at them in English won’t get your message across, right?”
Most of the group laughed at this, but Artie nodded; he knew what Tom meant. “I think you can figure out how to communicate with them, so I’m leaving that up to you. All of you,” Tom looked around at them, “make sure they all have their life belts and warm clothes. We only have about three hours to get everyone off, so move those people up here.”
The group took off for their assignment and Tom turned to the boat deck. The crew was working in teams to unhinge the lifeboats and swing them out. Tom went from team to team, racing from port to starboard, showing them the best method for working the davits. As he worked, he felt his mind narrowing to a focus: get everyone through it. Don’t stop, don’t hesitate. You know what needs to be done, Tom. Just do it.
At 12:20, when no people were queuing up for the boats, he stopped and looked around. Spying Lightoller releasing another boat from its davit, he stepped to his side and jostled his elbow. “Where are the passengers? Why aren’t they loading into the first boats?”
When he answered, Lightoller’s tone was high and frustrated as he kicked the davit loose. “Cap’n hasn’t given the order to load ’em, yet.” At Tom’s astonished expression, he continued defensively, “He only ordered the boats swung out. Said to wait for his order to load the passengers.”