Chapter 3: Arrival

April 18, 1912

The silence was deafening. There had to be over a thousand people on the deck surrounding Meg as she peered off into the distance at New York City as it grew larger, but no one seemed to be saying a word. Only the gentle pitter patter of raindrops as they hit the metal railings and the sodden wooden planking broke the torturous sound of nothing ringing in her ears.

She still wore the same white shirtwaist and plaid skirt the stewardess who had been so helpful when they’d first come aboard three days ago was able to find for her, but she wasn’t much worried about how she looked. Her hair was pinned up more to keep it out of her way, but she noticed it was starting to fall out, and she tried not to touch it for fear her hand would pull away a fresh clump.

For three days, she and Jonathan had taken turns sitting alongside Charlie’s bed. He was lucid at times, very much aware of where he was, of who he was. Other times, he had no idea. He could hardly recognize his own name. The doctors had been giving him something—what it was she couldn’t be certain—but it was supposed to help him stay calm. It worked to a degree, but there were instances when he awoke from a restless sleep screaming, and Meg would do her best to try to calm him, thought it was impossible as those were the times when he was least likely to know who she was. The nurses would come and give him another dose of whatever it was, and the cycle would repeat itself. Though Meg was assured this was the case with many of the passengers who’d been plucked from the water, knowing the despair was shared did not make it any easier.

When he’d first returned from the dead, she thought everything would be fine. The doctor had said he might have some frostbite and could potentially lose a toe or the tip of a finger. She didn’t expect him to be so mentally altered. Jonathan assured her it was due to the trauma of being in the water for so long, and he was quite confident the old Charlie would be back soon. Meg believed that at first, but three days seemed like forever, and now she didn’t know what to think.

Jonathan had sent a wire to Mr. and Mrs. Ashton to let them know Charlie was alive, but he wasn’t specific. There were so many messages going in and out, it was difficult to get anything sent at all. Rumor had it that part of the reason Titanic had hit the iceberg in the first place was because the wireless officers had disregarded dozens of warnings from other ships as they sent out messages from passengers. Clearly, this group of entitled individuals each felt the message they needed to send was more important than anyone else’s, and it made Meg angry to think of the lives that were lost possibly, at least partially due to this privilege.

Meg had wondered if Charlie’s parents had even known he was aboard Titanic. Jonathan said he didn’t think so, but they still might wonder if they hadn’t heard from him for several days. Word of the disaster would’ve reached them by now, and Jonathan wasn’t sure if Charlie had sent them a message earlier in the trip to let them know he was on his way back. Meg was well aware that Charlie’s stay in Southampton was initially supposed to be much longer, but then, she’d gone and ruined all that.

Her own mother and uncle would have no way of knowing she was aboard Titanic unless Madeline Astor told them, and since she had heard that the young woman’s husband did not make it off Titanic, she doubted Madeline would concern herself with Meg. Therefore, Mildred and Bertram Westmoreland would still be wondering what had happened to their respective daughter and niece. It might cross their minds that she had boarded Titanic, but they probably wouldn’t think it too likely unless they happened to see Kelly’s and Daniel O’Connell’s names aboard the list of rescued. She wondered if her mother would even bother to look for their names. For that matter, she wondered if her mother would even bother to look for her daughter’s name. At any rate, she wouldn’t be sending any messages to her family to let them know she had survived.

Her name was listed as Meg West, Third Class Passenger, and in many ways, that’s who she felt she was at this point. Her clothing matched the description. Her family now consisted of the woman who’d been her servant in Southampton but also been her best friend, along with her husband and their two small girls. Charlie was another matter entirely; if he didn’t come around to himself, would he even be compelled to honor the arrangement he had to marry Mary Margaret Westmoreland? He had proclaimed to Meg that he loved her and wanted to marry her, but once he had some time to decide which Charlie he wanted to be, perhaps he might change his mind. Or perhaps he would have little choice in the matter, and the Charlie who had loved her would be just as lost once they landed in New York as he had been when he slipped away from her for those few minutes right after they’d been reunited aboard Carpathia.

There were so many possibilities, and she’d spent the better part of three days attempting to sort them all out in her mind. Now, with the shoreline looming in the distance and the certainty that they would soon dock, she needed to consider what her next step would be. Perhaps it was the arguing of her own thoughts that made the silence amongst her shipmates so overwhelmingly loud.

“Meg,” a quiet voice said behind her, and she turned to see Jonathan Lane standing there, a concerned expression on his face. He almost always wore a black bowler hat, which covered all but patches of his dark hair, graying at his temples. He was still wearing the same suit he’d had on when they’d boarded the lifeboats three days ago. Spending countless hours sitting next to Charlie, wandering the decks looking for any sort of mental release, and sleeping in it had left the suit wrinkled, and Meg likened her own emotions to a crumpled black suit that no longer fit properly or served its original purpose.

“Is Charlie all right?” It was the first thing that came to her mind when she saw him standing out here, away from his employer’s bed. One of them had been with Charlie the entire time. Now, neither of them was there, which sent waves of panic through her insides.

“He’s fine,” Jonathan assured her. “They’re getting him ready to transfer. The doctor wants him taken straight to the hospital as soon as we arrive. They thought it best that we all step out while they do so.”