The Brittle Sea: Historical Fiction – Chapter 5

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Last Updated on October 30, 2022 by ADMIN-TOM

Rescue Mission

A disaster at sea is every sailor’s nightmare, but when the disaster happened to someone else and you have failed to give assistance, that would have repercussions.

A message, you say. A distress call, no less, that has taken,” the Captain paused and looked at the top of the notepaper, “almost two hours to reach us?” Captain Richard Blackmore slammed the paper onto his desk and looked up at his Marconi operator. “This is the second time in as many days, Mr Archer. And this is now an emergency and I have no doubt people have lost their lives due to your stupidity. A ship is in distress, maybe even sunk by now, and we are but miles away. Anyone plunged into these freezing waters will last minutes, man. Minutes! Then they will most assuredly die. Minutes, Mr Archer! You said you were fully trained on the new telegraph equipment.”

I am sir, fully trained, but…”

But what?”

The engineer said I must conserve battery power and turn the system off for several hours every night.”

Out and out nonsense, even I know that, and I don’t even work for Marconi. Mr Archer, you, as an employee of Marconi, must understand you only answer to me on my ship. You are not part of the crew, but an employee of Marconi. Our esteemed engineer is a bully who preys on naïve young men. Since when is our brandy-soaked chief in charge of this vessel?” Blackmore’s fist had by now crumpled the message and was sore from the pounding his desk was taking.

Lord save us from stupidity.

Blackmore shoved the crumpled paper at Archer. “Take this and give it to the Conning Officer. Now get out of my sight,” Blackmore shouted at the young man, who seemed close to tears.

As his cabin door shut quietly, Blackmore grabbed the voice-tube that connected him to his bridge and blew in it.

Bridge,” a tinny voice shrilled back at Blackmore.

Mr James,” Blackmore said into the mouthpiece, “get a heading from the telegraph operator who is on his way up to you and change our course. We have a rescue mission on our hands, so full steam please. But, be aware we are perhaps heading into an icefield, not to mention debris from a sunken ship, so all available lookouts to their posts.”

Aye, Sir, do we know the ship?”

There was a brief pause, James waited patiently.

It’s the Titanic.” Blackmore heard a brief intake of breath. He knew his first officer well enough to know he would take that news well; despite the fact he also knew James’ nephew was a part of the Titanic’s crew.

And Mr James.”

Aye, Captain?” James’ Scottish brogue always had a calming effect on Blackmore.

Lives are at stake, so full speed as soon as possible and if the engineer gives you trouble, throw him in the brig. In fact,” Blackmore paused for thought.

Sir?”

Throw him in the brig anyway and get Mr Lawrence to take over engineering.”

Sir!” James’ incredulity was evident.

Our esteemed colleague’s drunken stupidity may have killed people tonight. I’ll make sure he never works on a ship again. Blackmore out.” Blackmore sat back and ran his fingers through his dark hair and short beard. He felt the need for sleep but knew full well that he and his crew were not going to be sleeping any time soon. Blackmore picked up his binoculars and cap, placing the cap precisely on his head, followed by a quick glance in the mirror to ensure he was correctly attired. He was experienced enough to know his men looked up to him for leadership, and a shoddily dressed ship’s captain made for a shoddy ship’s crew. Blackmore’s cabin was immediately below the bridge, on the ship’s boat-deck and as he climbed the short way up to the bridge, he looked out at the bright starlight embedded in the inky blackness of the night sky. Blackmore entered the bridge, nodding to his first officer, Mr James. Blackmore stood on the bridge of The Lady Jane and waited for his ship to approach the designated co-ordinates before scanning for any signs of a ship in distress.

Are you sure of the heading?”

Aye, sir, and all hands are at their stations,” Archer confirmed.

Very well.”

The steady throb of the engines and the calming effect of the sea washing round the prow had mellowed Blackmore somewhat.

Mr James, did you take care of our drunken chief?”

Aye, Sir. We took a little haranguing from him, but he’s safely locked up.”

Mr James explained the engineer had paid no attention to the first officer explaining the Captain’s orders, other than to shout at him, drool and dribble running down his chin.

Blackmore’s chief engineer was drunk again. He blamed himself for not insisting on a replacement. Blackmore doubted anything would be done because the chief was nephew to The Lady Jane’s owner, Gordon Bellagon, and Bellagon was subservient to his sister, the chief’s mother.

What a tangled web we weave,” Blackmore muttered.

When we practise to deceive,” the telegraph operator muttered in a low, absent-minded way.

You like poetry, Mr Archer?”

Not really, sir. I just remember the line for some reason.”

Yes, me too. But it is true. A lot of lives could be lost tonight, and it’s all down to a tangled web of stupidity, as opposed to deceit, brought on by others. Take my advice, young man. Stand your ground when you know you are in the right.”

A voice, strong and clear, called out into the cold night. “Debris!”

The first officer standing just outside the bridge shouted the obvious question. “Where away?” and looked up into the main mast area. After a second or two looking to the port side, Mr James shouted, “Ten degrees port captain and it’s quite a distance…”

I see it, thank you. Helm new heading.” Blackmore’s bridge crew had been with him a long time and they knew the ropes. Without needing any help from him, The Lady Jane changed her heading and Mr James barked orders to the crew. The steamer’s prow spray was now visible as dawn approached and the little steamer changed direction. Fate had taken a hand in human affairs and was also shaping Blackmore’s future.

 
***
 
 

The scene of debris, bodies, capsized-boats, flotsam, and a mass of small icebergs scattered across a wide expanse of freezing Ocean sent a chill down Blackmore’s spine. It wasn’t the chill of the cold; it was the chill of desperation those people experienced in their last moment before a cold death took them. It was an unworldly scene, almost like a surreal painting. Everywhere he looked was as still and silent as a grave. Blackmore nodded to himself, realising that was exactly what he was looking at. The Titanic was now at the bottom of the Ocean and with it were the lost souls who perished with her. Another vessel, the Carpathia, had been on the scene but had already departed for New York with the survivors. Blackmore had been tasked with searching for more survivors if that were possible in this frozen and lifeless scene before him.

The telegraph operator had brought Blackmore more bad news, news that made Blackmore seriously doubt the usefulness of the new telegraph technology.

Let me understand what you are saying, Mr Archer. The message we received was a day older than it said. And you are saying somebody else sent this message, not the Carpathia?”

Archer stood his ground but was instinctively feeling like a schoolboy up before the headmaster. “It was very confusing with a lot of extraneous chatter, sir. It was hard to understand what was going on. It could have been Carpathia, even the California who insisted they had warned Titanic about the icebergs, sir.”

So, this disaster was never going to be anything other than a disaster. We could not have got here any sooner because what warning we received was garbled and unhelpful, at the very least?”

Aye, Captain.”

Blackmore dismissed the young telegraph-man and shook his head. They had been combing the area with long boats for hours and could find no trace of life. It was a hopeless task and miracles didn’t usually happen in real-life. The bridge had several people searching through binoculars, but the feeling of hopelessness was beginning to affect them all.

A pointless task. All long dead.

But as he thought that gloomy, miserable thought, he could see a sailor signalling from a longboat quite a distance out.

What are they signalling?” Blackmore asked. Mr James followed Blackmore’s stare and put his powerful binoculars to his eyes.

I don’t believe it, Sir, they have found a survivor.”

Get them back here as soon as possible and alert the ship’s medical officer. Pray to God we’re in time.”

Time seemed to move slowly as the ship’s longboat was rowed back to The Lady Jane.

 
***
 
 

Blackmore was in his cabin with a handful of his officers. All watched helplessly as medical officer Bell examined the young woman. A beautiful fragile young woman.

She’s close to death. It’s a miracle she survived,” Bell whispered as he examined her.

Outside the cabin half a dozen others were jostling for position to gawp through the windows.

Maybe miracles do sometimes happen.

Will she live?” Blackmore asked in a whisper, as if his loud voice would crack the woman’s fragile beauty.

I don’t know. She has hypothermia. I need to get her core heat back up to normal. Someone fetch warm blankets, towels, anything that will insulate her. I need to remove her wet clothing so all of you, out. And clear those men outside away. I need peace and quiet.. Now, dammit!”

Bell stood upright and stretched, looking around. “You too, Captain,” he said to the older man, cocking his eyebrow.

But this is my cabin, I’m Captain.”

Bell laughed, cheerlessly. “You are Captain, but this room,” he waved an arm around, “is now a medical bay and I am in charge. I am a medical officer and my authority here is absolute. Please leave… now.”

Blackmore opened the door and walked out into the cold, bumping into the ship’s steward Mr Lee. Lee was carrying a pile of blankets and towels.

The small Chinese man looked up at his captain. “Solly.” Lee pushed the Captain aside and entered the cabin. The door to Blackmore’s cabin, his ex-cabin, slammed shut with an absolute finality.

 
***
 
 

She was in a broken life-raft, partially frozen into a small berg?” Captain Blackmore knew he sounded incredulous. “She was alone, but wrapped in multiple blankets and virtually frozen into a splinter from the cold?” Blackmore’s voice carried the incredulity it deserved. It was as farfetched a story as he had ever heard.

The Bosun, George Nance, shuffled his feet, nervously. A man who in the face of danger would stand steadfast, but under his Captain’s hard stare he felt like a lost schoolboy.

I cannot fathom it, Captain. I obviously don’t know the ins and outs of the matter, only what I and my crew seen and as to what we told Mr James, Sir.”

The Bosun’s thick Cornish accent gave away his heritage and Blackmore knew he was looking at a highly trained ex British Royal Navy man. This Bosun wouldn’t know how to lie.

Very well, we will see what the young lady remembers. Thank you for your time.”

Sir,” the bosun said, saluting in the proper manner and turned to leave, but stopped. “She did say something,” he said, turning around to face Blackmore.

She did? What?”

I dunno what she said as it were foreign, Sir.”

Foreign? She spoke French, German? What?”

I would have said Russian, if memory serves.”

Russian? You know Russian?”

The older man blushed and shook his head. “My Grand-pappy was Russian, a sailor during the Anglo-Russian war. Back in 1807 he and his ship, the Speshnoy, was captured in Portsmouth where they were docked and eventually, he joined the Royal Navy and retired in Cornwall.”

So, you know some Russian?”

The older man shook his head. “Not really, I just remember how my Grand-pappy sounded. The young lady said something that sounded Russian. Something like batko, but I’m not sure. We were a bit busy trying to get her across to our boat. It was a long time ago, sir, and my memory of Russian is not good.”

Very well, bosun.” Blackmore was about to dismiss the man when a thought occurred to him. “Was she placed in the life-boat; do you think?”

Funny you should mention that, Captain. She was lying at an odd angle, almost as if she had fallen in. But the blankets were on top of her. It were, well, a bit odd, sir.”

Very well, Bosun. Thank you for the information.”

As the man left, Blackmore shook his head and wondered what tales other crew members had to tell.

But it wasn’t long before the Bosun’s story was forgotten.

Copyright © Tom Kane June 2020
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The Brittle Sea: Historical Fiction Reviews

The Titanic disaster is the catalyst that sparks a bloody feud between two families in early 20th century America. A captivating, inventive read, with dark, sinister characters & a gripping storyline.

Very engaging and compelling page-turner, which keeps you hooked right to the end. Well worth a read and I’m looking forward to the next instalment of this series.

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