Bread

Edith Forster's gaze skipped from the brass bed to the horsehair sofa to the dressing table. The large teak box sat at the center of the table, an inch or so from where it had been when she dressed for dinner just six hours earlier. Katie stood by her side, ready to pack up whatever her employer deemed worth saving.

Unlike most wealthy women on board, Edith had refused to relinquish her jewels to the Purser and thus had no need to seek him out. Instead, the willowy blonde had insisted on returning to their stateroom to fetch her valuables. She began stuffing her fur coat pockets with jewelry from the box until her husband's patience snapped.

“There's no time, Edie, dearest,” Edwin urged. “I'll buy you a hundred more once we get back. We must hurry. Andrews says the ship will go down within the hour. ”

Edith laughed, her lifebelt still unfastened around her waist. No matter what the ship builder's thoughts on the matter were. No matter that the cabin floor was listing to one side.

“Nonsense,” she said. “We're far safer on the Titanic than in one of those little boats.”

The cabin lights dimmed then surged back to full capacity. Edwin raised his eyes to the overhead light as if to say I think not. "Those little boats don't have a 300-foot gash down their side."

With an elaborate sigh, Edith let the box slam shut and its glittering interior vanished from sight. The American woman had stuffed her pockets and yet the contents were barely diminished. Katie remained rooted to the spot, her eyes fixed on the ornately carved lid.

As Edith followed her husband back into the corridor, she called over her shoulder, “Come along, Katie. And don't forget to lock the door.”

Edwin didn't give her a second look. How odd that she once believed he loved her. Three years spent mooning over a man twice her age who had just made it plain he didn't care a jot if she drowned.

The ceiling light dimmed, brightened, then dimmed once more. Katie braced herself and crossed to the wardrobe. Inside, Edith's spare fur coat hung beside a sparkly rainbow of gowns that shone in the flickering light. Even now, she envied those dresses. At dinner in the Maid's and Valet's Saloon, she had she imagined herself in pale chiffon as she descended the grand staircase arm-in-arm with Edwin. The next Mrs. Forster.

A thin sheen of water seeping into the cabin brought her back to reality with a jolt. Katie yanked the coat off its hanger and slipped her arms into its fabulously warm sleeves. Edith hadn't told her to take it but, on the other hand, she hadn't explicitly forbidden her to do so either.

The beaver-lamb fur felt just as warm around her shoulders and she clutched the collar to her neck as she hurried down the corridor and turned into the ship's labyrinthine interior. Up ahead, the Forsters were halfway across the gymnasium, where Mr. and Mrs. Astor sat listlessly on two of the mechanical horses. The couples acknowledged each other but didn't strike up a conversation. Apparently a sinking ship gave them leave to dispense with formalities.

By the time Katie reached the horses, the Astors had moved off. She picked up her pace until at last she was trotting behind the Forsters like a faithful dog. When the couple passed through the entrance to the A Deck foyer, Edith glanced back and cast a quick smile in her direction. If her appropriation of the fur coat bothered Edith, she didn't show it. Katie felt a surge of relief.

The moment the three of them emerged into the immense space with its domed glass ceiling, the crowd engulfed them. Such a mad mix of attire she had never seen. The banker Mr. Daniel wore woolen pajamas and Mrs. Ada Clark was dressed in just her nightgown. Madame de Villiers was clad in slippers and a long motoring coat. Mrs. Dodge's unbuttoned shoes kept flopping down to reveal that the oh-so-proper lady wore no stockings.

Others, like Mr. and Mrs. Astor, were dressed to the nines. Even Mrs. James Brown looked undeniably posh in a two-piece velvet suit with black-and-white silk lapels. Edith moved away from Edwin, chatting animatedly with the other first-class passengers as if they were guests at a costume ball. Her husband looked suddenly drained, his eyes dull and unfocused. All the energy he'd shown below deck had left him. Katie steeled herself against the impulse to slip over to him and give his hand a quick, furtive squeeze, like she had so many times before.

She strained to hear if he would share Andrews' prognosis with the others. But he stayed silent, a statue amidst a sea of motion. Stupidly, she longed for him to turn in her direction, to meet her eyes one last time.

He didn't. After a few more minutes, he pushed his way through the crush of bodies until he reached his wife. Taking her by the elbow, he guided her toward the exit that led to the Boat Deck. This time Edith didn't look for her.

Katie hesitated. Could she find her way back? How much time did she have? It was now or never. She shook off a steward's hand on her shoulder and raced back down the corridor she'd come from.

Something wasn't quite right about the angle of the floor and she nearly fell but got her sea legs at the last minute. Behind her, she heard a crewman's deep baritone cut through the murmur of the passengers.

“You're running to your death, Miss!”

Maybe she was but it was too late now to turn back. The Forsters were gone and the staterooms were empty. In defiance of Edith's order, Katie hadn't locked the door. Truth be told, half of them had been left unlocked and even if she had followed instructions, there were dozens of other first-class staterooms to choose from. But she knew the Forsters' place as well as she knew her own tiny cabin, which adjoined theirs. More importantly, she knew how much cash the jewelry in the teak box would bring once she reached America.

If she reached America. But anything was better than three more years at Edith's beck and call. Three more years of Edwin turning up at her room unannounced.

The sounds of the crowd above faded as she lurched forward through the ship's innards. When she rounded the final corner and pushed herself toward the Forsters' door, a shadow fell across her peripheral vision.

She stopped Someone had followed her.

She whirled around. Water sloshed past her ankles, soaking her skirt, as the lights along the hallway dwindled to a reddish glow. A man in an expensive dinner jacket lounged in the entryway, his shoes entirely submerged. He studied her as if he had all the time in the world.

Their eyes met.

For an illogical moment, she imagined he knew her purpose. Envisioned him shouting for a steward, who would promptly arrest her and escort her to one of the boats in handcuffs.

Katie banished the thought. She was, after all, the Forsters' maid and had every right to enter their cabin. If he asked, she would say Edwin had sent her back to retrieve his wife's things.

“Oh, hello, sir,” she said brightly, as if it were hours earlier and their presence on the B Deck was as ordinary as pie. As if she weren't clad in a fur coat far too long for her compact frame.

He didn't answer, simply gave her a stiff nod. It was then that she noticed his jacket was far too large for him as well. His skin was dusky, his hair and eyes jet black.

Whoever the stranger was, he was not first-class material. Which meant his intentions were almost certainly bad. He hadn't come back for his own possessions but to steal someone else's. Katie felt a surge of indignation then remembered why she herself was standing in ice-cold water outside a deserted cabin.

Well, it couldn't be helped. And it wasn't as if she were stealing from complete strangers. The Forsters were rich as Croesus and didn't need what trinkets they'd left behind. At that very moment Edwin was probably lowering Edith into one of the lifeboats. If he thought of Katie at all it would be to wonder why she wasn't there to comfort his wife.

On the other hand, might it not be better to rob strangers? Could the impostor be less guilty than she, in the grand scheme of things?

The ship listed further to one side and a surge of icy water gushed down the corridor. She watched as the waterline on her skirt rose ever higher. Normally light on her feet, she felt as if she were slogging through molasses not seawater. Her toes were undetectable.

No time for philosophical debates—once she was safe on board a lifeboat she could think on her recent sins to her heart's content. When—if—she reached New York she would go straight to confession at St. Patrick's.

She wondered if Edwin would confess as well. Certainly not to Edith. If he went down with the ship, as most of the men would, would he be damned to hell for what he'd done? If that were the case, hell must be awfully crowded.

Interrupting her thoughts, the stranger pushed past her toward a cabin a few doors down. Wordlessly, he tried the knob and when it didn't open he moved on to the next one. Seconds later he disappeared into the abandoned room.

She did the same. Once inside, she shut the door behind her. No sense in exposing herself to unnecessary risk. Perhaps the next person to return to the B Deck would be a genuine first-class passenger—or, more likely, a steward. Or perhaps the thief would find nothing of value in the cabin he'd entered and would decide to rob hers instead.

Still, it was no easy task to close the door. The ornate wood resisted her feeble efforts as the water level rose and the ship tilted further to one side. The words of the man in the foyer came back to her and she felt she had made a terrible mistake. But there was no turning back now, not when she was so close.

A sudden lurch sent the teak box flying off the dressing table. At the same time a painting flew off the wall and Edith's perfume bottles tumbled to the floor. Katie waded over to the sunken box and reached both hands into the water to retrieve it. Her arms stung as she fumbled toward the bed and leaned against it. As for her fingertips, they were so numb her first attempts to unlatch the brass clasp came to nothing. When she finally got the box open, she gasped.

She had seen Edith's jewelry at dinner parties for the past three years and knew the pieces well. Still, the sight of so many in one place stunned her. Even when she'd glimpsed the jewels earlier, she had been well away from them. Edith never let her get too close.

Now she understood why. Katie stared down at the diamond rings, the sapphire necklace, the emerald brooch, the ruby bracelet. The stones alone would bring her enough money to live on her own for an entire year. Maybe for her entire life.

But she needed to get to the Boat Deck and fast. She knew she should simply take the entire box. That would be fastest but it would also call attention to her theft. Better to take what she could and stuff it into her pockets, like Edith had done.

Before she could change her mind, she wrapped her hand around the sapphire necklace and shoved it into her coat pocket. She was reaching for the emerald brooch when the porthole burst open. Water poured into the cabin at an astonishing rate.

Had Edwin forgotten to latch it? When he'd summoned her to the cabin earlier that night, the window had been open but she was sure he'd fastened it at some point before they left that first time. She remembered him peering through as he tried to determine why the ship had stopped moving. She remembered him pushing it closed to keep the room warm after he decided to venture out to see what he could find out. He must have latched it then.

Yet he hadn't. That much was obvious. The water had already reached the tops of her legs, which were no longer appendages she could walk on but a galaxy of pins and needles.

For the first time that night, she felt truly afraid.

Katie ran her fingertips over the sapphires, as if to reassure herself the piece was still there in her pocket. As if in slow motion, she fought her way across the room and grasped the doorknob.

The door held fast.

Katie laid both hands on the knob and yanked it as hard as she could. Nothing happened.

The door was jammed. Or the water was holding it closed. She tried not to panic as she lifted her foot and braced it against the submerged part of the wall next to the door. She took a deep breath and pulled with all her might.

The door didn't budge.

She dropped her foot and pounded on the door with both fists. “Help!” she screamed. She went on screaming until her voice was hoarse.

No answer.

Behind her, water was still pouring through the porthole. The wicker chair, the painting, a half dozen postcards Edith had purchased, bobbed on the surface of the water. Katie pounded harder, screamed harder, even as her voice faded.

Was it possible the thief was still out there? Or someone else, one of the crew? If he did hear her screaming, would he leave her behind?

She had little doubt that he would. Why leave a witness to a crime. More to the point, she couldn't be sure she wouldn't have done the same. She hated to think it, but what if it were true? She'd done nothing but deceive people ever since Edwin had first kissed her.

Katie stopped pounding a minute, just long enough to take a look at the size of the porthole. She was small—just under 5 foot 2—but there was no way she could fit through that tiny window, not with the water pouring through like that. She was going to die and would most likely meet Edwin in hell.

She turned back to the door. Picked up a gilt chair and held it over her head. Brought it down onto the wood as hard as she could. It didn't make a dent. She raised it again. Brought it down onto the door a second time. The lights in the cabin flickered one last time then went out.

“Hold your horses,” said a voice.

At least she imagined that's what it said. The water was up to her waist now and she was losing her sense of time. Inside the waterlogged fur coat, her entire body shook.

The voice rang out across the darkness a second time. “Step away from the door if you know what's good for you.”

She backed against the wall and pressed her palms flat against what had been textured wallpaper. She heard a bump, a groan. Another bump, a curse. More curses, more bumps.

"For the love of God," she cried, "hurry up!"

She heard what he said in response but chose not to remember it.

When the door burst open several minutes later, the man in the ill-fitting jacket grabbed her hand. “Come on, you little fool,” he said as he dragged her into the corridor and down the darkened hallway.

“I could say the same to you,” she spat back at him. She couldn't see a thing but was giddy with relief all the same. How he knew his way through the ship's interior, she couldn't say. She didn't much care. Was it too late to get onto a boat? Could she stay afloat on a deck chair? Surely, she'd freeze. She wasn't a strong swimmer but, on the other hand, at least she could swim.

When they reached the stairs, he pushed her in front of him. “Climb,” he said. “Don't lose your footing and make me fall. I'm right behind you. And, oh, hurry up.”

It was hard not to miss the sarcasm in his voice. It was also hard to miss the numbness that ran from her rib cage to her toes. She swallowed another quip and placed her foot on the first step. Her hand wrapped around the railing and she sloshed to the top of the staircase, only slipping once.

When they reached the foyer, she was relieved to see lights. A few stragglers were milling around, but there were few women. Despite their soaked attire, no one paid much attention to them. A ragtime tune she'd heard before wafted across the air and she thought she must be dreaming. The dazzle of stars above didn't do much to dispel the notion.

In the distance, Mr. Astor lounged against a railing and smoked. She didn't recognize his companion, who was also smoking. The pair looked uncannily serene and she watched as Astor pulled a pocket watch out of his vest to check the time.

As if on cue, a rocket exploded overhead and blossomed into a white shimmer of sparks. Then another. and another, until a ghostly fireworks display filled the night. It was then knew she must be mad.

"Come on, now,” her companion gave her a gentle push and she nearly lost her balance. “This is no time for dawdling.”

"Stop shoving me," she hissed.

"I will," he said coolly, "as soon as you stop dawdling."

When they made it to the Boat Deck, he tugged on her coat to slow her down. She turned to see he had traded the dinner jacket for a woman's shawl along the way. For some bizarre reason, he looked pleased at her astonishment. Which, she supposed, he should be, since his pockets still bulged with loot.

He laid both hands on her shoulders and spun her toward the port side. A gaggle of men were clustered in front of a lifeboat that hung several feet away from the Titanic due to its slant. "If you don't go below deck to steal anything else," he said, "you'll just have time to find yourself a place on that one.”

She couldn't help smiling. "Trying to eliminate the competition?"

He grinned back. "I wouldn't call it that."

She was about to cut him down to size when she realized it might be the last time she ever saw him. She should thank him. Instead she asked, “What's your name?”

“Robin,” he said glibly. “Now you'd best be on your way before you lose your chance.”

His teeth gleamed in the darkness and she reached out to tie his shawl around him a little more tightly. How he'd pass for a woman she had no idea.

“Good luck,” she said. “And God speed.”

He gave her another little shove, this one more forceful than the last. "I'm not keen on small talk even under normal circumstances," he told her, "And in case you haven't noticed, this boat's going down."

With that he hurried off, his stolen shawl billowing out behind him as he headed for the starboard side. Katie stumbled toward the last lifeboat in the vicinity.

By the time she reached the lifeboat, he was nowhere to be seen. She made her way through the cluster of husbands and fathers then leapt on board. Her legs felt as if they were made of rubber and before she jumped Katie imagined herself falling into the gap between the ship and the lifeboat.

Her vision came to nothing though. She landed hard on a large, pillowy woman, her arms and legs flying out in every direction. When she apologized, the lady said something in French she couldn't decipher. "Merci," Katie said nonsensically, over and over until she felt the other passengers begin to be annoyed. "Merci."

Her coat--Edith's coat--was drenched. But she thought it would be worse to take it off. She tried to make out forms and faces but it was too dark. And she was too tired.

Across from her, a woman barely older than a girl clutched an infant against her chest as the boat dropped. They were a few feet down when a man burst through the crowd around the lifeboat and jumped overboard. His aim was true and he landed at the center of the craft. A chorus of shouts was still assaulting him from above when a second man appeared in his wake and launched himself into the air. He fell through the darkness, through the cacophony of insults, but the men's indignation had no effect. His act of defiance succeeded as well as the first man's had.

The boat swung to one side with the men's weight and Katie thought for a moment the whole lot of them would tumble into the sea. When the lifeboat righted itself again, she peered at their faces for a sign of familiarity. But the excitement their rebellion had kindled within her dwindled to nothing. They were not Robin.

When they hit the water, the baby began to cry and his mother opened her blouse to nurse him to sleep--or at least to silence. No one spoke as the other women took up their oars and rowed away from the half-submerged ship. Its lights cast golden, wavering reflections across the sea and overhead the stars went on shining in the moonless sky. All around them, mountainous shadows loomed.

Katie remembered the necklace then. Her ticket to a new life, one as far away from the Forsters as she could get. She felt in her pockets, only to discover both were empty. Robin's gentle pushes and his secret smile came back to her but she couldn't find it in her heart to blame him. He had, after all, saved her life.

She was shivering hard, despite the rowing, but she did feel a little warmer. When they got far enough from the ship, the officer in charge told them they could rest. One by one, the women, the children and the two men turned to watch the ship tip vertical, its dark form an accusing finger pointing toward the fiery heavens. Then it was gone.

A boy of about 13 flung a scrap of something at her. Katie looked down at it and imagined it was a piece of ice. When they first struck the berg, children had grabbed the pieces scattered across the deck and flung them at one another in a great snowy war. What lay in her lap wasn't ice though. She lifted it to her lips and popped it in her mouth. The bread was exquisite. Cold, but fresh and full of flavor.

She chewed as the boy's mother grabbed the loaf out of his hands and began tearing off pieces for everyone in the boat. Even the two men got small chunks.

When the woman held out a second piece to her, Katie shook her head. She had what she needed.

***

This is the third story I've written for the "Ship of Dreams" challenge and, like the first two, the fiction is grounded in historical fact. The idea came to me after I read about Mrs. Ida Straus, the wife of Macy's department store owner Isidor Straus. Straus apparently offered her maid some jewelry she had with her but changed her mind at the last minute and took the jewelry back. Unlike Edith Forster, however, Ellen Bird's employer made sure she got on a lifeboat and chose to stay behind with her husband. If anything, Edith is modeled on passenger Lady Duff-Gordon, who, upon seeing the Titanic go down, remarked to her maid: "There is your beautiful nightdress gone."

Another element of the story based on a true tale is the moment when Katie finds herself trapped in the Forsters' stateroom. At least one passenger was stuck inside his room when a steward was locking cabin doors left unsecured. Fortunately, the passenger made himself heard and the steward let him out. A second incident occurred when a cabin door jammed and passengers broke it down to save the man inside. The only difference is that in real life a steward arrived on the scene and threatened to have everyone arrested for damaging company property. Many passengers simply could not conceive the ship would sink and, consequently, stayed on board and carried on as if life would go on as it had before. They could not have been more wrong.

As for the jewels aboard Titanic, there were countless pieces of inestimable value. In A Night to Remember, Walter Lord describes the women who sought to retrieve their valuables from Purser Herbert McElroy. Among the items I came across in my research was a sapphire necklace. Not to mention the luxurious fur coats that kept passengers warm. Likewise, the descriptions of the attire the first-class passengers wore when they gathered in the A Deck foyer is taken from Lord's account.

One of the heroes of the night was Chief Baker Charles Joughin, who miraculously survived in much the same way Jack and Rose do in James Cameron's 1997 movie. It was Joughin who took the initiative to organize all 13 bakers who worked under him to raid the Titanic's larder for provisions. Each baker came away with four loaves of bread, which they supplied to women and children who were boarding lifeboats.

Joughin spent the rest of the night helping passengers onto lifeboats, hurling deck chairs into the water for survivors to use as flotation devices, and, last but by no means least, getting drunk. It was the whisky in his system that kept him insulated from the cold for hours when so many others froze to death. Though he had the chance to board a lifeboat, he decided instead to climb onto the other side of the railing and ride the ship down like an elevator. His hair barely got wet.

As for Katie, one joke went that all Irish women on the Titanic were named Katherine, Kate, Katie or some variation thereof. I like to think my fictional Katie did just fine for herself once she reached New York.