The Music Played On

My mum was jabbering with other adults. I was excited to take a trip on the huge, new ship named Titanic, but here I am, listening to grownup chit-chat, with no one near my age to relate to.

My father, who was a barrister, couldn't come along on the trip to visit my mum's parents. We were fortunate to have a first class berth, with all the fine dining included. Still, sitting for long periods felt like child abuse. How was an eight-year-old to survive?

I snuck away from the dinner table and towards the musicians. The quintet was playing something classical. I had fun watching the man with the giant stringed instrument. He caught me staring. Instead of glaring at me like most adults would, he smirked and winked. His eyes went back to his music. The bow in his right hand glided gracefully across the strings, while the fingers of his left hand moved up and down the tops of the strings effortlessly. What a complicated, interesting instrument! The band finished the music and then they all flipped some pages.

My new friend nodded a greeting with a half smile. I waved and then pulled at the sleeves on my dress, which had a tendency to ride up.

With a nod from the violinist, the musicians began something a bit more upbeat. I found myself bending my knees to the beat, closing my eyes and imagining I was a lady dancing with a man.

The song was short, maybe three minutes. I wanted to applaud when they finished with a flourish, but that would have been unseemly during dinner, though they had stopped serving.

The band members stood up to take a break. The man with the huge instrument set it down carefully and headed towards me. That's when I felt a yank on my arm.

My mum spit out harshly, "Christine Mae Adams, what were you thinking? You can't just run off like that." To the musician, she smiled and said, "I hope she wasn't any bother, sir."

The man smiled. "Not at all." He squatted in front of me and said, "My name is John Frederick Clarke, but you can call me Fred. Did you want to ask anything, young lady?"

I looked to my mum for permission. She rolled her eyes and exhaled. "Very well, but don't overstay your welcome. You come right back to the table when he says."

"Yes, Mother," I mumbled, staring at my shoes.

The instant she left, I asked, "Mr. Fred, what is your instrument called? How do you carry it? How do you know where to put your fingers?"

"Slow down...uh, Christine, right?"

I nodded and added, "But you can call me Chrissy."

He said, "It's called a double bass. Come, I'll show you."

As we took the few steps, I asked, "But what's double about it?"

As he righted his instrument, he chuckled. "You ask lots of questions. Good questions. It's called that because it's about double the size of the cello." He pointed to another stringed instrument. "As for knowing where to place my fingers, that takes practice. Come try the bow."

Mr. Fred showed me how to hold it. When I dragged it across the strings, it didn't sound anything like music. I looked around in horror, worried I would draw attention, but no one seemed to hear.

Mr. Fred smiled and said, "You're a natural. Maybe one day, you'll play an instrument. Oh, you asked about carrying it." He wrapped an arm around it, holding it sideways to his body and lifted it up as if it was nothing. He took a few steps away, turned and came back.

I clapped quietly for him.

He bowed deeply and said, "I'd better get a spot to eat before we need to play again. Nice chatting with you, Chrissy. Let me know if you have other questions."

"Thank you, Mr. Fred."

The next day was much more fun. I got to swim in the pool. I made friends with a 9-year-old American girl named Elizabeth. She was a bit prissy, refusing to get her perfectly coifed hair wet, but we had some races walking in the water and agreed to ask if our families could dine together.

That evening, we sat even nearer to the musicians. I impressed everyone at my table with my knowledge of the double bass. I smiled over at Mr. Fred, who again gave me a nod and half smile. I tried to ask my mom if Elizabeth and I could talk with him during his break. She was so busy talking with Elizabeth's parents, that by the third time I inquired - rather loudly - she practically pushed me away, "Yes, yes, go on with you, child."

Elizabeth's mom gave her a curt nod.

We giggled as we broke free of our parents.

Mr. Fred shook my hand. "Nice to see you again, Chrissy."

I tried out my best manners, "Elizabeth, I would like you to meet my good friend, Mr. Fred. Mr. Fred, this is my new friend, Elizabeth." I beamed, happy with my introduction. The two shook hands.

He asked, "What can I do for you young ladies this evening?"

I had already thought up several questions, but having learned from my last barrage, I simply asked, "Can Elizabeth try your double bass?"

"Just this once. Chrissy, put your hand here on the body, and you'll feel the vibration."

As he predicted, when Elizabeth pulled the bow across the string, my fingers buzzed. I gasped and exclaimed, "Toot sweet!"

Elizabeth laughed. "You Brits have such a way with words."

I joined her laughter and threw the tease back at her, "You Yanks wouldn't know a proper cup of tea if it was splashed in your face." By then, we were both giggling with our hands over our mouths.

One look at Mr. Fred's judgmental expression, and I sobered up. "Sorry, Mr. Fred. Will you answer just a few more questions?"

"Very well, two for now, but be quick. I need to eat also."

Every day, Elizabeth and I played together, and every day, we asked John questions about music and instruments.

Then, in the wee hours one night, my mum awakened me, yelling, "Chrissy, we have to leave, quickly! The ship is sinking."

Outside our berth, people were rushing around, some called for loved ones, some were actually laughing, acting as if nothing significant was happening. With my eyes wide open and my body tense, I followed.

As we rounded a corner, I could hear Mr. Fred's musicians playing. My first thought was how sad and beautiful it sounded. They were putting their hearts and souls into their music. Then, I thought, Why don't they leave the sinking ship? I made eye contact and yelled, "Mr. Fred, come with us."

He shook his head almost imperceptibly. That's when I noticed a single tear slip down his cheek. I screamed, "No!" as my mother pulled me away forcibly. By then, tears were streaming down my face. I continued to hear the music as we boarded the smaller craft and even as we were lowered towards the frigid water. Even when I was out of earshot, I heard their lovely music playing in my head. As our boat pulled away, the giant ship leveled off. Then, what was left of the ship began to tip at an alarming rate, slowly slipping into the ocean.

I buried my head into my mother's chest and clung to her for hours. By the time we were safe at my grandparent's place in New York, I was too traumatized to cross the ocean again, so I stayed. Later, my parents also made the move.

I learned to play the violin. Years later, I graduated from Julliard with top honors and joined the New York Philharmonic Orchestra, landing the coveted position of Concert Mistress. I never once played without thinking of Mr. Fred.

*

Author's notes

There were three men named John among the eight musicians aboard Titanic. John Frederick Preston Clarke was the bassist.

John Hume was one of the violinists. His family was sent a bill for his uniform following his death. They understandably refused to pay.

All the musicians played as long as they could while the vessel sank.

They all perished.