Written by Jaylynn
I remember once, when I was very
small. When I was floating down the Mississippi River near Hannibal, Missouri,
I heard a loud roar, like a thousand dogs yelling at a stranger. I was quite
frightened, mind you. Then I saw it. A cyclone the size of a city, coming
towards me at a horrendous speed.
The water splashed all around me,
throwing me into the waters below me. Everything went black.
A few days later, I found myself
in a strange house. My eyes were blurry from not using them for a few days, and
my body ached with pain. Oh, how my body ached!
Then a boy about my age sauntered
in the door to the room.
"Oh, you’re up," he
said with a strong Missourian accent. I don’t know where I had seen him before,
maybe it was deja vu, but as soon as I saw him, it was like I had known him
from the day I was born.
"Yeah, I’m up," I
grumbled.
"That was some strong
tornader," he said. Yes, he said tornader.
"Where am I?" I
questioned, rubbing my head where I must have hit it somewhere.
"You’re in Hannibal,
Missouri."
"I know that!" I
snapped. "Who are you?"
"Oh! My name is Samuel
Clemens. Future author and journalist!" he boasted.
I raised my eyebrow at the boy.
"Ain’t author and journalist the same thing?" Yes, I know ain’t isn’t
a word, but I was also raised in Missouri, so forgive me.
"Well, if you’re going to go
technical on me, yes, they are."
After a few minutes of a silence,
I spoke up. "I had better get on my way," and I made my way for the
front door.
"Wait!" he called after
me.
"What?" I almost
snapped involuntarily.
"What’s your name?"
"Oh, I’m so sorry!" I
said, putting my hand over my heart apologetically. "I forgot to introduce
myself! My name is Margaret Brown." I held out my hand. "You can call
me Molly."
He nodded his head.
"Molly," he repeated quietly, looking into my eyes.
"Well…um…sorry to keep you. You have a long journey ahead of you," he
said, snapping out of his daze and ushering me out the door.
"Bye, Samuel!" I called
over my shoulder. He just waved from his front porch as I continued down the
fenced dirt street.
Too bad that was only my first of
many adventures. The next, to my surprise, was much more--how should I put
this? Exciting? Glamorous? And yes, even terrifying.
*****
My journey upon the great Titanic
was exquisite. The first class was set apart from the second, and the same with
the second and third class.
The unsinkable Titanic was what
they called it. "Not even the giant swipe of God’s great hand can sink
this ship." I laughed at this statement, since I was a great Christian,
and anything man could make, God could make better and most likely destroy it
quicker than it was made.
Boarding the ship in Cherbourg,
France, the Titanic’s second stop, I make my way up the almost vertical slope
towards the towering ship above me from the tiny ferry that took me out away
from the country that I had lived in for the past three years. Cherbourg had
become my home.
Thankful that I was going to my
real home, America, to see my real home in Colorado, I boarded the ship almost
uneasily. Not uneasily that I was going to my husband--I just had a very bad
feeling about this whole voyage.
A few years ago, my husband,
J.J., had hit the big money, and we had moved to France. Too bad my husband had
to stay in Cherbourg because of business; I really wanted him with me.
*****
The trip went smoothly so far.
Everyone spoke of icebergs farther in our tracks. I didn’t worry much about it,
but it did send a chill down my spine. Why is everyone so…so…frantic over the
small things? It just doesn’t make sense to me.
*****
Sunday, the third to last day on
the Titanic. I’ll be so happy to get off this huge steel mine. Everything from
the constant rhythm of the ship’s engines to the sea air that makes my stomach
go grr--just everything gets on my nerves. I’m so jumpy now’a days.
Last night I had a dream that the
ship collided with an iceberg ten times as large the ship. Midway down, God’s
giant hand swept down and grabbed me from the ocean’s waters. Halfway to the
stars, I woke up with a start. I guess I should just pass it off as a worry.
But then I remembered the iceberg warnings.
I have to get ready for the
church sermon now.
Why they have to call these
sermons so early is over my head. I wish they were at least an hour later. Some
people like to sleep in on Sunday!
The sermon went well, I would
guess. As I have only been to so many in my life…I’m not a regular face at a
church’s door.
*****
One of my shipboard friends,
Cally Carson’s daughter, went up to me at lunch and told me that the ship’s
captain, Edward J. Smith, is getting very worried about the icebergs.
Every ship in the area has warned
every warning from Thousands upon millions of icebergs in area STOP, to Icebergs
as huge as houses, be careful STOP.
I don’t think much about it. If
God wants me bad enough to send an iceberg after the ship I’m sailing on, who
am I to argue?
*****
It’s about midnight now. Everyone
is retiring for the night, but I’m still up. I seriously think that the person
who invented corsets should die. These things hurt when you’re trying to sleep!
Oh, my! I just heard a bell in
the distance! It sounds like trouble. I’m holding my breath, waiting for the
blow to fall…
*****
Everyone’s rushing so much now.
Only about twenty minutes ago, an iceberg hit the ship. I guess God wants me
badly.
I see some of my friends, though
indistinguishable against the others rushing past me. I hear women screaming
all around me as they plunge into the waters below. I push others forward into
the boats, willing to save others rather than myself.
"Come on. They will get on
another boat. They will be right behind you!" I call as I pull a woman
away from her husband. She cries into my shoulder as I set her down into the
lifeboat.
*****
My lifeboat, Number 6, and I are
floating aimlessly in the Atlantic Ocean, waiting for any sign of another ship.
About an hour ago, the ship went down.
Thousands of people are still out
in the water, crying for help. Help that will never come because of fear. Fear
of swamping a boat. Selfish people, these English are!
They think of none other than
themselves. Lowdown and selfish, that’s what I call them.
I sigh and sink lower in my seat
as I try to drown out the cries of the people out in the water…hoping…hoping
that God will soon put their souls to rest.
I look up at the crewman aboard
our lifeboat. I look him square in the eye.
"We have to save them!"
I almost yell at him. I hear my voice echo for miles around.
"They will swamp the bloody
boat, you woman!" he cried at me. "Don’t you understand?"
A woman, that’s what they always
call us. A woman. Stupid, good for nothing except having children and raising
them. I will never understand how that stereotype came about, but I know one
thing, and that is that I will change that definition of a woman.
I sank lower in my seat even.
Everything seems to fall upon me, doesn’t it? I look out at the sea once again
and get the strength from the people who are screaming out in the water.
"We have to save them,"
I repeated calmly but coldly.
"They will swamp the bloody
boat!" he says with same expression.
I grab an oar before he can stop
me. I shrug my shoulders at the other women, as if to say, You know what has
to be done! Get to it!
6:30 AM
Carpathia
After about six hours in bitterly
cold weather, you tend to forget what warmth is. Thank God for whoever invented
coffee and blankets!
I’ve only seen about half of the
people that I had met on board the Titanic, which is very sad. Only a few third
class passengers I’ve seen had survived. They will post the survivor list
later; I will see if Cally and her daughter have survived. I hope they had.
*****
Cally survived but is very sick.
I found her in the hospital, waiting for the onboard doctor to check for
frostbite. Neither of us have seen or heard of her daughter, Vanessa. I feel so
sorry for her. I know Vanessa meant the world to her. And Vanessa had so much
going for her, too.
I went down to check the survivor
list a little while ago, and Vanessa was not on it anywhere. I don’t know if I
can bring myself to tell Cally…I think I’ll just let her find out for herself.
I’ve always been a pretty good actress.
*****
They say we’ll be in New York on
Wednesday. I hope we will. My son is supposed to meet me there.
I hope he doesn’t think that I
didn’t survive. I don’t believe I could take the shame of being told, "Oh,
Mother! I was crying thinking that you had gone down with the ship!" I
don’t think I could take it.
Cally found out about Vanessa’s
death. I felt so badly for her. It looks like she’ll be crying for the rest of the
trip.
I don’t mean to sound rude, but
it’s just that if someone’s dead it’s not like they’re going to come back the
more you cry.
We arrived in New York about
twenty minutes ago. Reporters flocked around the ports, bridges, and streets
around the arriving ship, blocking anyone from moving anywhere in an
understandable amount of time.
It took me almost an hour and a
half to find my son. I could practically see the relief in his eyes when he saw
me. I’ll never forget that look.
*****
Every night after that fateful
and horrible night out on the sea, I have tremendous nightmares about the
people in the water…screaming at me to save them. And every time I try, I am
pulled deeper and deeper into the water myself.
When my head is just about to hit
the surface of the water, I wake up, noticing that everything is exactly as I
had left it before I fell asleep.
But I still wonder, What if?
What if something had been
different?
What if someone knew ahead of
time that something like that would happen?
What if…
What if…
What if…
The End.