"The water is cold. Oh, it's so cold. I can't move. I can't breathe. I'm underwater. The vent grate is holding me trapped. I can't get free. The water is cold. My body is growing numb from it. I feel the warmth of hot air on my back and suddenly I'm blown to the surface. The air is just as cold and my lungs breathe the freezing air in. I'm wet; I'm soaked. The water flowing through the vent sucks me down again. I'm trapped again. The water is still cold. I can't move again. I can't breathe again. Oh, God, help me. I see flashes, and I see faces; a mother who I never got to know; a father who left when I was ten; the siblings who never grew past early childhood; the extended family who took care of me; the woman I married; the captain I worked under; the friends and colleagues I've come to know; the strangers I don't even know the names of; God almighty, save me from this tragedy. Let my praying faith be enough for my salvation; I don't want to die with her. I don't want to die with Titanic. Use your divine power. I know you have it. God, can you hear me? Heavenly Father, are you there?"
He awoke with a frightful stir, and a large gasp of air that his lungs seemed to crave so desperately. His eyes roamed around the dark room; he was home. Back in England. It was near the end of May, and the nightmares keep coming back. Beginning from the fifteenth of the previous month of April to now has been nothing but heartache and exhaustion. Not just for him, but for everyone who was involved. The United States Inquiry into the disaster was finally over, lasting over a month, from April nineteenth to May twenty-fifth, though he had left after the twentieth of May. There was the sound of shuffling covers. "Charles?" A sweet Australian accent hit his ears through the silence. "What happened?" She asked. Charles let out a breath of air. "Just a nightmare." "You're here at home now; you're safe; you're alive. It's going to be okay." "Yeah. I'm here. I'm alive, while nearly fifteen hundred people are dead." She breathed out her own breath of air. "Come on, now. Lay back and wrap your arms around me. You have the inquiry tomorrow at ten-thirty and you need your sleep." "Yeah." This is Charles Herbert Lightoller. A thirty-eight year old mariner. This is the Second Officer; the only senior officer to survive the sinking of the RMS Titanic. The woman lying next to him is his wife, Sylvia. The inquiry she had mentioned; the British Inquiry. It's started and Charles is one of the many witnesses to testify, just like the one in the United States. Yesterday was the eleventh day, and tomorrow is the twelfth, and Charles would be testifying both days and day fourteen. The inquiry was an exhausting thing, being on the stand for long periods of time, being asked question after question and trying to explain oneself. Charles was called up to the stand four times in the United States Inquiry alone. His eyes slowly drifted close once again as he looked at his darling Sylvia, who looked back at him, watching over him as if she were an angel from heaven. From within his sleep, the day's inquiry echoed through his tired and exhausted mind, question after question and answer after answer.
May 20, 1912 - British Inquiry - Day 11
"You are Charles Lightoller, yes?"
"Yes. That's me."
"Were you Second Officer aboard Titanic?"
"Yes, I was."
"You hold a Master's certificate, I think?"
"Yes."
"Which you passed in 1899?"
"Yes."
"And you also hold an Extra-Master's certificate?"
"Yes."
"And you got that in 1902, correct?"
"Yes, that's correct."
"Exactly how long have you been under White Star Line?"
"About twelve and a half years."
"So that would be since 1900?"
"Yes. January 1900."
"Having sailed across the Atlantic many times, is that where most of your experience lies?"
"Most."
"We'll just go over the names of the other officers, as they'll be referred to later on. Captain Smith was the commander, yes?"
"Yes."
"Chief Officer is next in line?"
"Yes. That was Mr. Wilde."
"First Officer?"
"Mr. Murdoch."
"And they were all lost in the tragedy, I believe?"
"Yes."
"Then you come in as Second Officer?"
"Yes."
"Who was Third?"
"Mr. Pitman."
"Fourth?"
"Mr. Boxhall."
"Fifth?"
"Mr. Lowe."
"Sixth?"
"Mr. Moody."
"I don't believe Mr. Moody was saved?"
"No, he wasn't."
"So it was Mr. Pitman, Mr. Boxhall, Mr. Lowe, and you who were saved?"
"Yes."
***
Lightoller sat on the bench outside the inquiry room. His leg bounced up and down. The time on the clock read ten-thirty. He had a pocket watch, yes, but he then remembered that he had lost it on Titanic. Did time even have any relevance? Charles didn't know. Were they ever going to call him in? He blew air through his smoking pipe before hitting the end against his palms a few times. "Call Mr. Lightoller." An echoing voice from inside called. Lightoller stood, stowing his pipe in his pocket, before walking in. Time for another day of question and answer.
"So to continue with your testimony, Mr. Lightoller. You were telling us about what you found when you had come above deck after you heard what had happened? I believe you mentioned the roaring steam? Blowing out of the boilers, I suppose?"
"Yes."
"Was it rather loud?"
"Yes, it was."
"So it must have made it very difficult to hear?"
"Yes, very difficult."
"Were all hands called on deck by this time?"
"Yes. I had met with Chief Officer Wilde almost immediately after I got out on deck. He first told me to get the boats uncovered. I then asked if all hands on deck had been called and he said yes."
"Were there any divisions of duty? Like were you responsible for a certain side of the ship?"
"No."
"So the Chief Officer gave the order to start uncovering the lifeboats?"
"Yes, that's correct."
"And did you do that?"
"Yes, I did."
"At that time, were any of the boats already uncovered or were you just beginning that stage?"
"None with the exception of the emergency boats."
"And those were the two boats that are kept swung out?"
"Yes."
"Did you get others to help you with the work?"
"Yes. I started it myself. When they showed up, I ordered them to work on the boats."
"Which side did you begin on?"
"I began on the port side. With the port forward boat, No. 4."
"That would be the one immediately behind the emergency boat?"
"Yes."
"Just tell us the order of things."
"Well, I started to strip off boat No. 4, and two or three of them showed up, where I showed them what to do. After which, I stood off by myself and directed those as they came up to the deck, seeing that they were evenly distributed between port and starboard."
"Evenly distributed by means of the boats?"
"Yes."
"Did you have any means of knowing which seaman would be assigned to which boat if they did not know; did you have any means of telling him?"
"Well, truth be told, I did not think it was advisable, what with the steam. I could only advise others with motions made by my hands. If I were to speak, they would not be able to hear a word."
***
"How long will you be gone, love?" Sylvia asked me. We were just lazing about at home that day. And at that moment, I rocked back and forth softly and lightly on the rocking chair with Sylvia in my lap. Her head resting against my chest. I would have to leave soon. I would have to go back to work; back out at sea. It was March. "Eh, a few weeks, maybe months perhaps? Really, I'm not sure." I replied. A mariner can be gone at sea for weeks, months, even over a year. And all three of those were true for me. I remember my first trips on the water, where I could be gone for 17 months give or take. "It seems more lonely and empty here when you're gone." She told me, her hand brushing against my clothed chest. My hands tightened my hold on her just a tiny bit. "Yeah, sometimes it's nice to be here, relaxing at home. I'll miss you like I always do, but I'll be sure to write a letter or two before we head out to the open ocean. I won't be gone forever, you know." I reply, lightly stroking her black hair. "It sure feels like forever when you're gone." She replies. I feel warm. I feel peaceful. I give her forehead a gentle kiss.
***
Lightoller stood on the new wooden deck of Titanic's bridge-First Officer Lightoller he was at the time. Next to him was his superior and good friend, Chief Officer William Murdoch-Chief Officer he was at the time. The two chatted as Murdoch scribbled things down in a small notepad. Behind the two men were the rest of the group. Second Officer David Blair, Third Officer Herbert Pitman, Fourth Officer Boxhall, Fifth Officer Harold Lowe, and Sixth Officer James Moody. The sky was a clear white, as Lightoller observed the blank sky on that April morning. There were approaching footsteps and the two men looked up. In walked Captain Edward Smith. Walking next to him was Mr. Henry Wilde, a man who towers in height. "Henry! It's a pleasure to see ye' once more!" Murdoch said, a happy smile on his face. "Hello, Will, you Scottish madman!" The two shook hands. "Ah, good old Mr. Charles Lightoller!" Henry said. Turning to the tall man. "You look just like I remember you being from when we worked together aboard the Olympic!" "Hey, Henry." Charles greeted, shaking hands. While Lightoller may have not expressed his emotions in the same way Murdoch did, he was happy to see Henry Wilde again. "What brings you here?" Lights questioned. "I will get to that in a minute, Mr. Lightoller. Anyway, Good morning, gentlemen." Smith greeted. "I have some news pertaining to the senior officers. Mr. Wilde, Mr. Murdoch, Mr. Lightoller, Mr. Blair, would you accompany me to my sitting room for a short discussion?" "Yes, sir." The three all said. When the five men were all in the Captain's sitting room, Smith continued. "So because of the coal strike, a last minute reshuffle of the senior crew has had to be made. Thus, it has been decided that Mr. Wilde will be joining us aboard as Chief Officer. This means that Mr. Murdoch, you are now First Officer, and Mr. Lightoller, you are now Second Officer. Mr. Blair, I must unfortunately tell you that you have been put out of Titanic's voyage." Lightoller looked at Blair from the corner of his eye. The man held his head tall, but after Captain Smith told him that he would have no choice but to sit out, the man breathed a large breath that could be a silent sigh. "I understand, sir. Thank you for everything." Blair replied, shaking hands with the Captain. "I apologize, Mr. Blair." Wilde said. "It's okay. You're not at fault; no one is." The younger man replied. After the Captain had released them, Blair packed his stuff up while the other three stayed in the hallway of the Officer's Quarters, talking. When Blair reappeared with his belongings in hand, a gloomy cloud seemed to hang over everyone's head somewhat. "Well, it was a pleasure while it lasted." Blair said. "I'm sorry again." Wilde said. "It's okay." "Sad to see you go, Davvy," Murdoch said. "But I'm sure you'll get back in the swing of things with work soon enough." "Yeah, I'm sure." "See you soon, Davy. Hopefully." Lights said, a small smile on his lips. "Hopefully!" Blair joked. After one last goodbye, they all stare after Blair as he walks out onto the deck. He gave his farewells to the four other officers before officially heading off. Lightoller settled his stuff into the Second Officer's cabin, and Murdoch moved to the First Officer's cabin, allowing Wilde the Chief Officer's cabin. "I was originally going to sail with Olympic, but instead, I was asked to stay behind. But I'm ready and willing to work, I assure you both." Wilde said. He stood in the doorway of his new cabin. Murdoch stood a bit outside his cabin, and Lights did the same. At Wilde's comment, Lights glances inside his own cabin, catching glimpse of the calendar he had set up. The date was April ninth. Titanic would be leaving the next day at noon.
Come the morning of the next day, Titanic's officers and crew were up bright and early. Titanic would be leaving Southampton in only a couple of hours and everything had to be ready and perfect. Mr. Andrews, her architect, had come onboard the ship at exactly six, and was busy doing one long last inspection, where he would look everything over from top to bottom down to the littlest detail. The morning was filled with lifeboat tests and all of that sort. The British Board of Trade would arrive to check the lifeboats. The head of the Board of Trade was an exhausting man; not taking one word from any officer, he was sure to see that everything was just right with his own eyes. The change in the senior officers caused a bit of confusion, as each senior officer had to take care of the other's responsibilities; Lightoller had to take care of Blair's; Murdoch had to take care of Lightoller's; and Wilde had Murdoch's responsibilities. The morning had been an exhausting one. Now, a little after noon, Titanic let out a cry from her whistles; it's time to leave. The morning had been filled with equipment tests, cargo loading, and so forth. As Second Officer, Lightoller had the watch duties from six to ten, both morning and evening. He had the responsibilities of things such as certain port duties regarding cargo, helping the First Officer with the ship's navigation, and the crow's nest. Soon, Titanic would be en route to Cherbourg, France, where she would pick up more passengers. After, she would go to Queenstowns, Ireland, where more passengers would be picked up and finally, she would officially head out to sea. Lightoller exited the Officer's Mess. He had just finished enjoying a nice hearty meal after his hour long deck rounds after his bridge watch. "Mr. Lightoller!" He turned to see Mr. Andrews, rushing up to him. "Mr. Andrews, to what do I owe the pleasure?" "We need you at the stern. There was nearly a collision while pulling out of Southampton's dock." "Pardon?" Andrews signaled with his head to follow. Upon arrival, he saw Officer Murdoch, Captain Smith and Mr. Bruce Ismay, the Managing Director of the White Star Line and the owner of Titanic. The First Officer was talking to the two men, a serious look on his face. "What happened?" Lightoller asked as he and Mr. Andrews approached. "We just nearly missed a collision." Murdoch replied. "With what?" The Second Officer replied. "With the New York." "What?!" Lightoller's eyes widened in shock. It was true. The SS New York had been tied to the RMS Oceanic. In the beginning, Titanic was supported by six tugboats that pulled her out from the dock. This was exactly noon, and Captain Smith ordered the tugs to let go and for Titanic's engines to be on her own. This is what brought the problem. It increased her speed, but it also increased suction at the stern. Upon her passing, Titanic was at a steady six knots and Smith ordered for the port propeller to be reversed to ease the left turn. However, that proved too much for the much smaller ship. The crew of the New York could do very little, as the ship had been stranded in Southampton due to the current coal strike, and was not under any steam.
***
Murdoch stood on the deck of Titanic's stern. Third Officer Pitman was also present. The air was cool, yet content and pleasurable. He stared out at the horizon, his ears taking in the sound of the cheering crowds of people. All of a sudden, his head snapped to the side as he heard a series of ear splitting bangs. His head then cocked to Pitman who was also looking in the direction. The two men rush to the side of the ship and look over. "Bloody hell!" The First Officer exclaimed. "Jesus!" The Third Officer said. The bonds that held the SS New York to the RMS Oceanic had somehow broken. The smaller ship was free… and she was drifting towards Titanic… "Mr. Pitman, telephone the bridge now!" Murdoch commanded, his eyes not leaving the scene below. "Yes, sir." Pitman hurriedly said, before rushing off towards the phone. Murdoch stared down at the lost little ship. A moment later, he saw a tug approach the drifting ship. He glanced back and looked at Pitman, the man quickly talking into the telephone, his brows furrowed. He looked back down at the water below. A second tug was now joining the first one. The port propeller restarted, Murdoch could feel it in his feet. The New York was now under control and the tugs led her away from her larger passerbying neighbor. Officer Murdoch let out a sigh of relief. The dooming collision was just barely avoided. Once again, he turned to Pitman, and gave a nod. "We're good. The tugs got hold of her and led her away from us." He said. Pitman himself let out his own breath of relief at that sentence.
***
Lightoller looked over the side of the ship. The New York was gone and the tugs along with her. The water below was empty. "Thank goodness she missed us," Mr. Ismay said. "If she didn't, she would surely be heading back into the hands of her builders before she would even leave port for New York!" He added. "Can't rightly disagree with that, sir." Mr. Andrews said. Lightoller continued to look down at the water below. Why, he didn't know. Finally, he looked up. Captain Smith, Mr. Ismay and Mr. Andrews had departed, their silhouettes still visible when Lightoller turned his head back in the direction of the ship's front. On deck, Murdoch was a bit further down, talking to Pitman. Not a minute later Lightoller himself departed, heading for the bridge. With every step on the wooden deck, Lightoller's footsteps were pronounced by his Oxford shoes. The deck in front of him seemed to stretch on forever. He never seemed to understand how Mr. Andrews was able to memorize Titanic in her entirety. However, the man was involved in the process of building her and mapping her down, but even the blueprints weren't fully created by just his own hand. There were others who had put their hands into the mixing bowl as well. What was his own hand and his perhaps almost countless hours of close study on the large papers, blue and otherwise, have just seemed to stamp themselves into the Irishman's mind. Who's to say his mind isn't just one big blueprint itself? Meanwhile, it could take Lightoller days to walk from one end to the other, no matter whether or not he ended up getting lost in the process. For Andrews, it was like he was able to just swiftly go from one place to the next. At thirty-five minutes after six that evening, Titanic arrived at the harbor at Cherbourg, France.