Free The Captain's Daughter by Leah Fleming

She was somewhere in the ship’s infirmary suffering from exposure. Celeste rushed to visit her but the old lady was asleep under sedation. Then she made for the laundry, collected Ella’s dry clothes and was given a bright dress from one of the Carpathia’s passengers, a soft woollen garment with darted bodice that fitted her like a glove. She swapped it for her own black garment, which was pressed and sponged down. Instinctively Celeste knew that May, so recently widowed, would prefer to wear mourning rather than the brighter colour, and Celeste was willing to pass on to her the warm and dry black dress.
    She clutched the baby clothes and sniffed the fresh scent of clean laundry. How could plain little May have produced such a beauty? How she longed for a chance to have another child of her own but Grover was adamant that one son and heir was an elegant sufficiency.
    Their life in Akron seemed so far away. She thought back to when they’d met in London, at a dinner party given by her grandfather, a retired bishop, in London, for visiting American Episcopalians. Grover had been on a business trip for the Diamond Rubber Company and had come along with a friend, sweeping her off her feet with roses and gifts, putting a ring on her finger before she had a chance to blink, and had her on the first ship to New York. It all seemed such a long time ago.
    All marriages take time to settle down, but theirs was taking longer than most. Their worlds were far apart but Roddy was such a joy. She must wire to tell them she was safe but how would Grover understand what she’d just been through? The screams of those drowning souls would echo in her ears for the rest of her days. The sight of the sinking ship flashed before her eyes as if it was still happening. How could things ever be the same after this?
    As Celeste passed through the dining room she noticed a group of women sitting round on the floor, wrapped in furs and paisley shawls, listening to a large woman holding forth.
    ‘Now, ladies, we can’t just sit here and do nothing. Before we leave this ship we must form a committee and make some firm resolutions. This disaster is going to shake the world and heads must roll for what went on last night. Here are all these poor souls without a stitch on their backs, not a cent in their pockets. Who’s going to see they get justice? How will they make out when we dock in New York if we don’t get to work right now?’
    ‘But, Mrs Brown, the White Star Line is responsible for their welfare, not us,’ said another lady, standing by her side.
    The stout woman shook her head and held up her hand. ‘I’ve known what it’s like not to have a dime to my name. America can make men rich or make beggars of them. I was lucky, my husband struck gold, but I know one thing: if you don’t shout, you don’t get!’
    Celeste moved closer. The woman was on fire with indignation, voicing just the sort of sentiments she was feeling herself. Surprisingly she felt bold enough to add her tuppence worth.
    ‘You’re so right. I was on a boat where a poor woman was dragged from the sea. Everything she possesses is gone – her husband, their tickets, their money. Her baby was rescued, praise the Lord, but she is destitute.’
    Mrs Brown turned towards the new arrival and smiled. ‘There, you see . . . Welcome. Don’t you just love that accent? Come and join us, sister. We need women like you to stand up and be counted. Who will thank Captain Rostron and the crew of the Carpathia if we don’t? Who will see that the immigrants get recompensed, if not us? When we land, it’s going to be chaos at first. Everyone will want to help now, but when the poor souls disperse, someone has to follow up and see that their needs are met.’
    ‘But, Margaret, dear, isn’t it too soon to be taking responsibility for such things? The government will want to do that,’ said a First Class passenger wrapped in fox furs.
    ‘Ethel, the government is an ass! Pardon