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Divine Faith: A Charles Lightoller Story

Charles Lightoller began his life at sea at age 13. Now, at the age of 38, he is second officer of the RMS Titanic and the most senior officer to get off her decks alive. After the sinking, he published a testimony in the Christian Science Journal saying that his very survival was because of his faith in a divine power. "With God all things are possible." his testimony concluded.

Ditzy_Doo04 · História
Classificações insuficientes
3 Chs

Chapter 2

Because of her large size, Titanic couldn't dock in Cherbourg's inner harbor, as it was not deep enough for the ship. Titanic's passengers and their baggage had to be transported by two tenders, named Traffic and Nomadic to the ship. Back in Southampton, Titanic took on 920 people, with more than half of those people belonging to the third-class, totaling to 494. There were 179 first-class and 247 second-class passengers.  Out of the 908 members of the crew, 724 were from Southampton. Now, in Cherbourg, there were 151 people from first-class and the remaining 28 were from second-class. She received no third-class passengers from Cherbourg.

***

It's been over thirty years and yet I still remember it all clearly. I was just a youngster back then, a youngster of thirteen. Upon my birth, I was in a family that operated cotton-spinning mills since the late eighteenth century; I was not interested in that life; I wanted to go to sea; a career that was foreign in my family. Mother had died shortly after my birth, and father had left and emigrated to New Zealand three years prior when I was ten. After his departure, I was left in the care of extended family members. At that age, most children got themselves stuck in factory jobs; and just like cotton spinning, I had no love for a factory job; I had not the slightest bit of interest. Again, I wanted to grow a bond with the sea, and I couldn't have been happier when that wish was granted by my extended family. Thus, began the life I know now. A life that I am quite familiar with.

***

At eleven-thirty that next morning, Titanic had anchored at Queenstown, Ireland. While seven people disembarked the ship, 123 others boarded, including three from first-class, seven from second-class, and the rest belonged to the third-class. Two hours later, at one-thirty, Titanic, now carrying 1,308 passengers and 898 crew members, making for 2,206 in total, departed from Ireland, leaving the land behind, and heading out into the open arms of the vast and wide ocean.

By the twelfth of April, Titanic's crew were settling down comfortably with both the ship herself and their roles and duties. By eleven that morning, the ice warnings began to roll into acquaintance as well. There were warnings from the Empress of Britain, and by eight that evening, a warning was sent from La Tourraine, a French liner. By ten that night, Lightoller was finally relieved from the bridge by Murdoch. "Cold tonight." Murdoch commented. "Quite." Lightoller replied. "The ice warnings are starting to roll in. We've been receiving messages practically all day!" He added. "Yes, I've seen them." Murdoch replied. "I haven't seen any actual ice so far though. I suppose we take that as a good thing." Lightoller said. "Yes, I agree with you on that. Well, you're relieved from duty, Mr. Lightoller." Murdoch replied. "Right. I'll be on my rounds. Have a good evening, Will." "Have a good evening, Mr Lightoller." Murdoch replied, nodding.

***

It was just eleven in the evening. That was just about the time I had turned in for the night. I'm dreaming. I'm in the wireless room. I see Senior Operator Phillips sitting at the desk. I see him look at the desk's equipment. He raises both his arms, adjusting the spark. He taps; nothing comes out. The equipment's humming sound suddenly comes to a stop. I see Mr. Phillips rise to his feet, the headset removed from his ears. "I don't feel like dealing with this now…" he mumbles under his breath. I watch him walk over to the curtained doorway. The curtain was closed and Mr. Phillips opened it. Inside the adjoining room, there is another man, sleeping on the bottom bunk. "Harold." Mr. Phillips says. "Harold, wake up. It's your shift." "Already?!" The other man questioned. "Yes, come on, boy." Mr. Phillips disappears behind the wall and Junior Operator Bride comes into view, walking out into the main cabin and sitting down at the desk still in his pajamas. I looked at the curtained doorway. The curtain was still open, but Mr. Phillips couldn't be seen. I turned back towards Mr. Bride, as he fumbled with the equipment. "Hey… what?!" He mumbled. He had discovered that something was up with the equipment. All of a sudden, it was as if time had skipped ahead a few minutes or so. I felt something rush through my body for just a second. It was like a cold breeze of peppermint, rushing through my body as time skipped ahead. I don't know how to phrase it in any other way. Although time had skipped, I still stood in the same place. I looked to my right. The door to the 'silent room' was open, where all the equipment is. Mr. Bride is kneeling next to Mr. Phillips, still in his pajamas. Mr. Phillips was still in his clothes, but he had already undone his tie and unbuttoned the top of his shirt. In front of them, was a spark cord. It was dripping wet as it had melted. I watch the two men wipe it down with towels. "I think that looks just about right, John." Mr. Bride says. "Alright, that'll do it. Open the lid for me." Mr. Phillips replies. Mr. Bride opens the lid to the box when the spark cord is kept and Mr. Phillips puts the equipment back inside. After the lid is closed once more, they just sit there for a moment. "Well, we're in for it…" Mr. Bride said. "No," the older one replied. "The two Irishmen who repaired this are in for it." "No, I mean, we're probably gonna be reprimanded for fixing the machine! We did something that's against the rules!" Mr. Bride was right of course. The manual says that they are not to fix the equipment if it breaks down; they're instructed to leave it alone and use an emergency coil; Titanic's operators have done the opposite. Something bubbles inside of me. I feel as if I need to give these two young men a talk about what has happened and what will hopefully not happen in the future; not about the machines breaking down, but of them breaking the rules. But at the same time, I also feel like I'm urged to say nothing, as if some good miracle is going to come from their breaking of the rules. Rising to his feet, Mr. Bride looks out into the main cabin. My presence is not noticed; they cannot see me. Mr. Phillips rests his back against the wall. "I'm not gonna switch on the emergency power over just some silly malfunction. Besides, if we get this thing up and running again, we'll be in range of Cape Race in just a few hours and then we can send all our traffic to the mainland which will save us so much time." Mr. Phillips explained. On the desk in the main cabin a large bulk of messages laid that would need to be shifted through and sent to onshore radio stations. "Well, you should get some sleep, John. It's nearly four in the morning." Mr. Bride said. I glanced up at the clock. He was right, it was nearly four. I heard the hum of the wireless equipment turn back on. Mr. Bride goes back into the main room and Mr. Phillips crosses the room and heads towards the bunks. "Goodnight, John." "Night." Everything faded to white and then I heard my alarm. My eyes open and I stare up at the ceiling of my cabin.

***

Charles laid in bed for a few minutes. His alarm chiming. He looked up at the ceiling, his eyes slowly blinking a few minutes before his body finally moved. His head lifted off his pillow and his hand moved to silence the chiming alarm. When the room became silent once more, his hand fell back onto the sheets and his head back down onto the pillow. He stayed there for only a minute before he scrambled out of bed. Mr. Wilde was at the bridge and Lightoller himself was due to relieve him. While adjusting his tie, he glanced out the window of his cabin. All he saw was darkness. It was the early hours of the morning-not seven or eight, mind you-more like five or six. "The early bird gets the worm as they say." He muttered to himself. Grabbing his overcoat, he heads out of his cabin and out of the Officer's Quarters. The cold morning air that Lightoller was greeted with was nothing new. Out from under the bridge and over to the open bridge post on Titanic's starboard side, meeting with Chief Officer Wilde. "Good morning, Mr. Lightoller." "Good morning, Mr. Wilde." Lightoller replied. "Sleep well?" The large man asked. "Yes, sir. I did." Lightoller once more replied. "Anything spotted up ahead?" He then asked his superior. "Nothing of the sort, except for the usual ice warnings, but the lookouts haven't spotted anything on the open water." Wilde explained. "Well, I shall be attending to my rounds, Mr. Lightoller. I shall see you later hopefully." With a farewell, Mr. Wilde heads down the deck to begin his rounds. Charles took a deep breath as he began the first few moments of his morning watch. His mind focused somewhat on the dream he had. Was it actually real or was it just his own imagination making things up? If it was the second option, then he had quite the imagination! Lightoller had to guess that it would be Mr. Bride who was working the key at the moment, as they only fixed the equipment about two hours ago and Mr. Phillips most certainly needed and deserved more than two hours of sleep. Lightoller had a feeling to drop by the wireless room for some unknown reason, or maybe to just see how things were after fixing the equipment, but officers didn't really drop by the wireless room often and it would be quite awkward dropping by with no real reason, wouldn't it? Lightoller would most definitely sound stark crazed mad if he just waltzed into the small wireless cabin and said something like, "oh yeah, I had a dream that the wireless had broken down, but I saw in the dream that you two gentlemen had fixed it. Just wanted to pop in to see how things are going." Yeah… Mr. Phllips and Mr. Bride definitely wouldn't find that weird in any way… No, Lightoller figured he would just keep it to himself. Besides, he had his own businesses with work to focus on. 

Captain Smith walked through the lower decks, accompanied by Thomas Andrews, the architect. Captain Smith had been doing his usual daily inspections around Titanic, and Mr. Andrews was just about always up and about, wandering the ship, his little black notebook in hand, always seeing how things could be improved. "It's a relief that the fire in boiler room six has finally been extinguished like Chief Engineer Bell said. However, he also said that the fire had damaged the bulkhead in room six, and judging by what I saw, I have to agree with him." Mr. Andrews said, looking through his small notebook as he talked. "How bad is the damage? She won't have to turn back to Belfast will she?" Smith asked. "If all continues to be okay, she should make it to New York and back fine. Though I do suggest that she gets the damage repaired once she does return back." Andrews replied. "I only hope we have no emergencies where the watertight doors are needed. With the damage from the fire, the bulkhead in room six is now a bit less stable." He then added. "Well, hopefully we have nothing but smooth sailing ahead of us for the rest of the voyage." Captain Smith replied. In the age of steam, coal fires were on the list of common problems. And with a major coal strike rallying in Britain at the time, Titanic's boiler rooms are a home to cheap coal that combusted deep in boiler room number six. "While I am glad that the fire has been extinguished, I can't say that a damaged bulkhead brings me comfort." Andrews said. "I'm sure everything will be fine, Mr. Andrews." The Captain replied.

 *** 

We couldn't believe it. We had finally returned from an unsuccessful strike at finding gold only to find that the lot of the fellows had decided to head back. They left us our share, of course. We had our tents, horses and some food, though not much, as the others had seemed to take most of it. Are we going to continue to head forward or do we, too, finally decide to turn back around? To abandon the expedition was to kneel in the unfortunate face of failure. In my mind, moving forward, no matter the pace, will always give at least some chance of striking what we've been looking for. "Well, should we go forward on our own?" Bill asked. In an observation of the food we've been left with, it acclimated to less than a week's provisions. "Well, the others left us with less than a week's worth of food, so if we do continue, we would eventually have to seek the land for our food, once it runs out, though there won't be much of a luck with that." I replied. Then, I came to a fact: if we do continue on, we would have to sacrifice one of the horses for meat and no way in bloody hell were we going to do that! There could be no way we could even think about doing something like that! After some time, your horse and you become pals. It treats you with respect and expects you to do the same in return. To part with the equine in such a manner was just next to impossible. After spending what could be a day on deciding the decision, which we figured the other guys had taken, we finally decided to cut our losses and turn back. Throughout our expedition, we had to cross rivers, and the others who had left us couldn't cross without us. I found that we had just enough food stacked up to allow us to catch up with the others. 

***

Mr. Lightoller looked out into the white of the horizon. His feet stood upon the polished wooden deck, as usual, and he himself was standing under the bridge. Murdoch stood close by, writing in a small notepad. The Captain was also nearby and present. The air was just cool enough to be pleasant and Lightoller found himself breathing in deep. The sound of Murdoch's voice cutting the silence drew the man's attention.

"Captain, there's a lifeboat drill scheduled for eleven a.m.." The First Officer said. "Eleven, huh?" Captain Smith mused. "Yes, sir." Murdoch replied. It was Sunday, the 14th of April and a religious ceremony was due to take place, with Captain Smith leading the first-class. This ceremony would be at ten. Lightoller's eyes drifted from Smith to Murdoch to the wooden deck and back again as he waited for the Captain to make his reply. Finally, the man decided. "I will be at the church service, Mr. Murdoch, and then I shall be making my rounds." "Yes, sir." Murdoch replied. With that, Smith left the bridge. "Guess that means the lifeboat drill is canceled." Lightoller mused to Murdoch. "Guess so." The other man replied.  With Captain Smith's design final, there will be no drill. Furthermore, there will be no reschedule of a drill. 

***

I remember well the voyage I made on the Knight Companion. I wouldn't say she was the most luxurious vessel, but I don't regret my time on board. I had just gotten my Master's Certificate and decided to try the Atlantic once more. I was told I would be Third Mate, which was just fine by me, though I was looking for a berth as Second Mate or even Mate. I was originally going for a voyage on board the Knight Bachelor, but that didn't occur. Instead, as I've already mentioned, I found myself on the Knight Companion, a vessel that transports cattle. I remember when I was escorted to my due vessel. "Why are we stopping here?" I asked. "Because we're here, sir." The other man replied. I looked at the dirty ship before me. I had never seen a vessel so dirty before in my life. "You're telling me this is the Knight Bachelor?" I then asked. "The Knight Bachelor? Oh, no, she left port just last week. No, this is the Knight Companion." Walking up the gangway, I went to speak to whoever the Mate was. A stranger walked out. "Hello, sir. How may I help you?" "Yes, I'm looking to speak to the Mate. Know where I can find him?" "You're speaking to him; I'm the Mate." There was nothing more I wanted to do than bury myself under covers and blankets and sleep. I was in no joking mood and I was certain that this chap was pulling my leg. "The Mate. I would like to speak to the Mate."  "Once again, sir, I am the Mate." It was then that I realized he was in fact not joking and I gave an apology. "Right, I apologize. Anyway, I'm the Third Mate. And if you don't mind, I will be turning in. I'm quite tired. Is there a steward here who can show me to my cabin?" I said. "'Fraid not. On this ship, we all find our own cabins." He replied.  Sure enough, I found my cabin.  While I wouldn't say the small room was completely unpleasant, I will definitely say that it could have definitely used a good clean, scrub and a wash!