A Dream Come True

Lizzy was smiling. It was like a dream come true.

“Congratulations, gentlemen.”

John Simpson followed the headmaster’s lead as he stood for recognition.

“Queens University Belfast is proud to welcome all of you as the newest class of physicians. Give yourselves a round of applause. Your accomplishments have only just begun.”

As family and friends clapped, handshakes and backslaps were shared by the 23 colleagues who were recently test-taking classmates. He looked back to check if Lizzy could see him from her seat in the rear of the auditorium. Of course she could. She had made sure of it, standing in the back with little JR in her arms, such a tiny thing.

———

“Such an enormous thing!” John stared up at the ship with his mouth open. White paint glistening as the morning sun broke through the clouds.

“It is. Wait until you see it from the inside.” Bill Dunford gave John a shove to keep him heading up the gangplank. “But if you don’t keep moving, we’ll never get in.”

The two laughed as they continued up the wooden slope. John had taken a quick liking to Bill. The hospital steward was only a few years older than John, but he acted more like the younger brother John never had.

“Once we get settled inside I’ll introduce to you Mrs. Marsden and Mrs. Wallis. They’re the nurses in charge with…what is it now, John?”

John was looking ahead at two men speaking on the deck.

“That’s Dr. John Beaumont,” said Bill, “he was originally this ship’s doctor, but Mr. Ismay wanted him to work on the Olympic. That’s how Dr. O’Loghlin got this job. That other man is Captain Smith. He’s the captain of Titanic.”

As they passed the two doctors on the deck, Captain Smith had already joined them. John could overhear some of the conversation.

O’Loughlin: “I’m tired, Jack. I’m getting too old to keep changing ships like this.”

Beaumont: “Think of it this way, Billy. Take this girl on a successful maiden voyage and you’ll have your pick of ships that you can ride into retirement.”

Smith: “Come on, William. Don’t be lazy. Make sure your bags are all packed and come with me on this voyage. We can talk about your future with White Star Line along the way.”

O’Loughlin: “I suppose. And what about you?”

Beaumont: “Oh, don’t worry about me, Billy. Olympic will continue to take good care of me.”

John couldn’t hear any more of the conversation as they continued past the men.

“Come on, John,” Bill said, “we don’t want to be late meeting Mrs. Marsden. That would be a terrible way to start things off.” He gave John another shove towards the arrow marked ‘D Deck’ on the right. “We need to keep moving.”

———

“Please have a seat, gentlemen.”

The headmaster continued. “As a special surprise for this class of 1912, we have some honored guests who would like to speak to you.”

The younger of the two men coming onto the stage removed his bowler hat, “Good afternoon, gentlemen.” His bushy mustache flickered as he spoke. “My name is Joseph Ismay and I am the managing director of White Star Line. This fine sir next to me is Dr. William O’Loughlin. We are here today to offer one of you the opportunity of a lifetime. RMS Titanic will be taking her maiden voyage this April and Dr. O’Loughlin is in need of an assistant surgeon on board. I’ll let him explain the rest.”

The older man did not remove his cap as he stepped forward. “Thank you Mr. Ismay. As senior surgeon on board, I will need my assistant to be responsible for all second and third class passengers for the entirety of the voyage. I have spoken to Headmaster O’Leary and he has assured me that each and every one of you are up to the task. In order to make it fair, we have entered your names in a hat and will pull one at random.” A murmur rumbled through the crowd of young doctors. “Any man who would like to be excluded, please stand now.”

No one stood.

———

John stood up as Bill Dunford brought in his next patient. He had been writing a letter, but had only gotten so far as, “April 12th, 1912. Two days at sea so far and for the most part it has been a rather mundane journey.”

“Doctor, this is Lemmy Dunraith from 3rd Class. He’s been complaining of sour stomach since yesterday.” He gestured towards the gurney.

“Have a seat, Mr. Dunraith. What can you tell me about your symptoms?”

“Thank you, doctor. It’s the food in steerage. I think it’s off. After dinner last night, there was a buncha us were feelin’ all rough in tha gullet, if ya know what I mean?”

“Why is this the first I’m hearing about it?”

“We didn’t come sooner because we was worried ‘bout the cost of treatment. Ya see, most a’ us just barely was able to scrap enough for the ticket. Anythin’ extra wasn’t in the cards. We had ta pool some quid for one o’ us ta come here. We hoped we could get a remedy and share it.”

“There’s no charge for medications or for illnesses originating on board. Take off your shirt and let me take a look.”

Later that evening, John had some time to continue his letter. A knock at his door interrupted.

“Yes? Come in.”

Bill entered with a bottle of scotch. “Thirsty?”

“Parched.” He pulled up a chair for his friend, placing two glasses on the table. “Is this our lot for the entire journey? Upset stomachs and bruises from scraps in steerage? Not quite what I had imagined.”

“Be patient. Long voyages can have a number of ailments spring up. A slip down the stairs, a case of appendicitis, someone might fall overboard. And there’s always hypothermia. It’s cold out there at night. On these ships, we take it as it comes,” he poured some whisky into the glasses, “and we enjoy our downtime when it presents itself.”

They clinked glasses. Bill looked at the paper on the desk.

“Writing a letter?”

“To my wife, Lizzy. Our son, John will be turning one next week. I’ll miss his first birthday.”

“That’s unlucky.”

———

“You lucky sod!”

Everything had turned gray. John couldn’t believe what he had just heard.

“Dr. Johnathan Edward Simpson, please stand.”

John stood up.

“Congratulations, son.” The grizzled physician on stage held out is hand, gesturing John to meet him there.

On stage, he shook first the headmaster’s hand, then Ismay’s, and finally O’Loughlin’s.

“A round of applause for Dr. Simpson. Assistant surgeon on Titanic’s maiden voyage.”

His classmates-turned-colleagues all applauded, as did the crowd in the back of the hall. John couldn’t see Lizzy from where he was standing now. He shook all three men’s hands again and turned to leave the stage. Before letting go, O’Loughlin gripped his hand tighter and leaned in, “We’ll be in touch. Don’t go too far. There’s a lot to go over.”

“Yes, sir.”

By the time he made it to the back of the hall, most of the crowd had left.

“I’ve been dreaming about this day.”

“I know, Lizzy. I guess the Royal Army Medical Corps will have to wait.”

“They’ll still be here when you get back. Or…”

“Or?”

“Or maybe you’ll have a long and fruitful career as a ship’s surgeon and you can take your wife and son all over the world.”

“Maybe, love. Let’s get through this one first. Bad enough I’ll miss JR’s first birthday.”

“Oh nonsense. I’m sure my parents will be showering him with gifts and kisses. He won’t even know you’re gone. Besides, he’s only one. He won’t remember anything.”

“That’s not the point.”

“I know, my dear. I know.” She kissed him on the cheek. “Fancy a tea?”

———

“Tea would be great.”

Mrs. Wallis poured John a cuppa Earl Grey. She and Bill had been John’s only contacts on the ship so far. John had seen O’Loughlin in passing, but mostly in the evening on his way to dinner with Captain Smith, Mr. Ismay, or Thomas Andrew, the ship’s builder. He had even heard the First Class nurse, Mrs. Marsden had been invited to dine with that group.

“Why don’t we get invited to dine with the elite?”

“Because we’re not part of the elite, love.”

Catherine Wallis was the nurse for second and third class passengers. She was a few years younger than John, but she was more like an older sister. They had become good friends over the past few days and enjoyed talking about their families over tea.

“Did you know Dr. Henry Frauenthal is on board.”

“Who?” John had never heard of the man.

“He’s one of Dr. O’Loughlin’s not-so-friendly rivals. He was supposed to work this journey, but decided to ride as a passenger instead. First class, of course. He and Dr. O’Loughlin go way back, along with Dr. Beaumont. Did you hear that Dr. Beaumont was also supposed to be on Titanic?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. While boarding the ship I overheard them talking about that.”

“It’s almost like Dr. O’Loughlin was destined to be this ship’s surgeon, the lucky man.”

“Lucky, indeed.”

“What do you say we go find William and see if Chef Joughin has some lovely leftovers from that swanky First Class dinner?”

“I say that’s a great idea.”

———

“I say that’s a terrible idea.”

Lizzy looked up at John. She had been watching JR as he latched onto her breast.“Why?”

“Because, we shouldn’t rely on your parents for everything.”

“It’s just for the next month or so while you’re away. So we can save money. I’ll do some looking around Manchester for a place of our own. It’ll be one less thing for you to worry about while you’re gone, my love.”

“I suppose. One less thing to worry about, yes.”

He sat down next to his wife and son, smiling as he watched them both fall asleep. JR was still suckling on her nipple. “I must be the luckiest man in the world,” he thought.

A rumble of thunder woke Lizzy with a start, “what was that?”

“Nothing. Just a bit of thunder.”

“I was dreaming. It sounded like a gunshot.”

———

“What was that?” John asked.

“Nothing,” Mrs. Marsden said, “probably just one of the engines turning over.”

“I’ve never felt the ship shake like that.”

“Me neither, but I’m sure it wasn’t anything to worry about.”

John was happy to be working in the First Class hospital wing, despite the late hour. O’Loughlin had “overimbibed” at dinner, according to Mrs. Marsden, the First Class nurse. He was “taking some time to rest.”

“Hopefully,” John thought, “after midnight I can get some rest, too.”

“Dr. Simpson,” Mrs. Marsden escorted an attractive young woman into the hospital ward, “this is Mrs. Harris. She seems to have tripped on the Grand Staircase and has hurt her arm.”

“I didn’t trip, ma’am,” Mrs. Harris was quick to correct, “the ship jolted and it caused me to fall.”

“Of course, dear. Here is the doctor.”

Mrs. Harris looked at John, eyes half squinting, “Where is Dr. O’Loughlin?”

“He’s indisposed at the moment,” Mrs. Marsden explained, “Dr. Simpson is filling in for tonight.”

“Well, I don’t want the steerage doctor caring for me. I believe I saw Dr. Frauenthal in the dining hall this evening. Please call him in.”

“Ma’am,” John said, “Dr. Frauenthal isn’t on duty. He’s a passenger. I’m more than capable of resetting your broken elbow.”

“How do you know its broken?” There was alarm in her voice.

“Its clear by the angle of the olecranon. If you’d please allow me to…”

“No! I won’t have you touch me. I’ll wait here for Dr. Frauenthal, thank you very much.”

“Very well. Mrs. Marsden, would you be so kind as to see if Dr. Frauenthal is available to help this young lady?”

On her way out of the ward, Mrs. Marsden bumped her shoulder on the door jam.

“That’s odd,” he thought.

———

“That’s odd,” he said.

“What’s odd?” Lizzy asked.

“I was just going over some of the paperwork that Dr. O’Loughlin gave me regarding Titanic. It goes on and on about the combination turbines and reciprocating engines. There are pages of technical jargon. Whereas there is very limited information of the medical facilities and safety measures. By my count, it doesn’t seem like there’s enough lifeboats.”

“And I though you’d said Titanic had some of the most advanced medical setup you’d seen?”

“Oh yes. Second to none, my love. But with two physicians, two nurses, and a steward to care for almost twenty-five hundred passengers, I fear we may have our hands full. What if there were an emergency affecting multiple passengers?”

“Funny,” she was wrapping up JR in a blanket, “I keep having dreams about Titanic. Some good, some bad. Last night was about just that.”

“The papers are calling her The Ship of Dreams.”

“That’s not what I mean. I dreamt that Titanic had an accident.”

“I’m sure there will be accidents on board. That’s why I’m going.”

“Not like that. A proper accident.”

“Well, the papers also say she is unsinkable.”

Lizzy walked over to John’s desk and bent to put her hands on his lap. “Are you saying you don’t believe in dreams coming true?”

“Anything’s possible, I suppose,” he put the paper down and looked up. Lizzy was glowing.

“I also dreamt we had a daughter.”

He took her hands in his as he stood up. “Let’s see what we can do about that.”

———

“Let’s see what we can do about that.”

Dr. Henry William Frauenthal was standing next to the gurney in his smoking jacket, looking at Mrs. Harris’ arm. By now it had grown to twice its normal size and had turned bluish-purple. She was holding it, wincing while he palpated around the awkward angle of her elbow.

“Fractured at the olecranon, it seems.”

“Yes, doctor,” John said, “I had told her we needn’t disturb you, but she insisted…”

“Nonsense,” looking over his shoulder, “Mrs. Harris is a family friend. I’m happy to set this for her so we can all get to bed.” Then to his patient, “Are you sure you don’t want an anesthetic?”

“Its actually become quite numb. Maybe we can try a quick tug and be done with it?”

“Ok, on three. One…”

He pulled and twisted at the elbow. A loud “pop” echoed across the room as Mrs. Harris let out a scream. Almost as if on cue, a jar of cotton balls fell off the counter, landing with a crash. Shards of glass sprayed across the floor. Mrs. Harris let out another scream at the sound of the crash, then began to moan as Dr. Frauenthal started molding the plaster onto her arm which was still swollen, still bluish-purple, but now at a more natural angle.

“Thank you, doctor. I can feel my fingers again.”

“Think nothing of it. Doctor Simpson, would you finish casting Mrs. Harris’ arm? I need to be getting back to my room.”

He opened the door to leave the ward and Dr. O’Loughlin was standing in the entrance. He glared at Frauenthal, opened his mouth to say something, paused, then closed it and brushed past, muttering, “Henry.”

Frauenthal snickered on his way out, “William.”

As O’Loughlin hurried past John he could smell the whisky on his breath. He went directly to Mrs. Marsden. “Child, things are very bad.”

The color disappeared from her face. Mrs. Harris let out another scream as a second glass jar (filled with bandages) crashed onto the floor. John noticed the room was listing to one side.

O’Loughlin turned to the others, “It seems Titanic has struck something in the sea. Possibly an iceberg.”

A collective gasp came from everyone in the room. John reached out, preventing a third jar from falling.

“It’s no matter,” said Mrs. Harris, following Frauenthal into the hallway, “Titanic is unsinkable.”

“Would that it were,” said O’Loughlin, “I was speaking with Mr. Andrews and Mr. Ismay, as well as Captain Smith and they all say she is taking on more water and faster than she can handle.”

“What does this mean?” John asked as Bill Dunford and Mrs. Wallis entered the hospital ward.

“It means Titanic will sink tonight.”

Everyone stood there in silence. Muffled screams and loud noises were becoming noticeable in the corridors.

“They’re saying women and children are to go first into the lifeboats. Mr. Andrews said there aren’t enough boats for every passenger, but if they are filled orderly and properly, most can be saved.” He paused, offering his hand first to John, then to Bill. After the men shook, he said, “Some of us have decided to stay in order to give others a chance. Good luck, gentlemen.” Then to Mrs. Marsden and Mrs. Wallis. “Ladies, you should head up to the top deck and get on a boat as soon as possible.”

On his way out, O’Loughlin bumped into the door jam, just as Mrs. Marsden had earlier. John would have assumed O’Loughlin bumped his way out due to the whisky he had “overimbibed” in tonight, if not for the noticeably odd angle the room was now at. John thought of how Mrs. Harris’ elbow was at an odd angle ten minutes earlier. Then the realization came. The ship they were on was sinking into the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.

“This is terrible,” John said.

———

“This is wonderful,” John thought.

He looked over at his wife, breathing softly. Dreaming. He looked over at his son, smiling at the ceiling with an occasional coo. He closed his eyes and thought about what was to come. An adventure at sea for the next few weeks. He always wanted to see America. And when he got back: a new home, a new child, a new life. He looked at them again before closing his eyes.

Everything was perfect.

———

Everything was chaos.

The corridors heading topside from D Deck were almost impassable. People were lining the corridors wall to wall, yelling, screaming, crying. John realized the “orderly and properly” survival that Mr. Andrews hoped for was now as unlikely as Titanic making it to New York.

In the confusion, John lost track of Mrs. Wallis, Mrs. Marsden, and Bill. Once he made it topside, the madness was amplified. By now, the ship had taken on enough water to be tipping forward. He thought, “is that the aft or the stern?”

A loud “FWOMTH” snapped John back to reality. He stood there and watched the flare shoot upwards, emphasizing the blackness of the ocean surrounding them. There were large patches of white (ice bergs?) and tiny glimmers of yellow (life boats?) all around the ship. People were being lowered into life boats. So much screaming. So much yelling. And…was that…music?

“FWOMTH” Another flare lit up the night sky as someone slammed into John’s back, knocking him to the deck. He smacked his forehead hard with nausea accompanying the pain. He thought of the remedies to treat nausea, wondering if he should go back to D Deck to get some.

“FWOMTH” No light came from that flare. John’s vision was fuzzy, his eyelids felt like they were blinking through molasses. He wiped the blood from his eyes and tried to get to his feet, but the nausea and the angle of the deck were making it difficult.

He felt an arm under his own, lifting him. “Come on, chap. I gotcha.”

Bill Dunford had found him on all fours on the deck. John was reunited with his friend. “Let’s go find us a lifeboat to get on.”

John could see again. He could still feel a steady warm stream coursing down the left side of his head, but the blood wasn’t dripping into his eyes anymore. “Did you find the ladies?”

“I saw Mrs. Marsden get on a boat with Dr. Frauenthal and Mr. Ismay, but I couldn’t find Mrs. Wallis after we left the ward.”

They had to hold onto the railing as they made it to the deck’s edge. No more boats on this side. They would have to cross to the other side of the ship and hope that there were still some life boats left.

Their journey to portside was accompanied by more flares going off (FWOMTH), but hindered by the awful angle the ship had settled into. More than once they had to go to all fours to prevent themselves from toppling over. More than once they had to avoid other passengers who were toppling over across the deck, slamming into the railing, tumbling into the icy ocean.

As they crossed under the navigation bridge and passed the wheelhouse, John saw Dr. William O’Loughlin. He was standing just inside the wheelhouse next to Mr. Charles Joughin, the head chef, and Mr. Thomas Andrews, Titanic’s builder. They were each holding a glass of scotch in one hand and a bannister in the other. They seemed to be talking calmly to each other as they watched the sideways chaos on deck. O’Loughlin met eyes with John. He raised his glass and nodded. Then he took a big swallow and turned away.

CRACK

John looked at Bill. “Gunshot?”

“No. Just another flare. Maybe a misfire.”

The screams told John otherwise. “We gotta get outta here.”

“No shit, friend.”

Another CRACK was accompanied by more screams. As the two rounded the wheelhouse, they saw the bodies lying on the deck. There was an officer with a gun standing next to one of the life boats. “Thank God,” John thought, “we’re going to make it out of here.”

CRACK

More screams, then another body slammed against John, bouncing off him before crashing into Bill. John was just able to grab the railing as the ship continued to tilt forward. He reached out for Bill, but it was too late. John watched as his friend tumbled into the blackness below.

CRACK

John looked back to where the gunshots were coming from. He saw the officer look at the mayhem around him. He raised the gun to his own head and pulled the trigger. CRACK! A spray of blood exploded from the side of his head. From where he was hangin on, John was close enough to see a cloud of condensation rise like a breath from the warm blood in the cold air as the officer’s body crumpled to the deck.

The boat the officer was guarding was being lowered down. “Why isn’t it full?” He started pulling himself up along the railing, against gravity. Maybe he could make it onto the boat before it got too low.

Another body struck him in his shoulder. A crunch and a bolt of pain in his arm caused him to release his grip. John tumbled backward. As he slid along the portside boat deck of Titanic, he saw people crying. He saw people screaming. He saw people sliding down the deck. He saw people jumping off the ship’s side.

He thought about Lizzy and JR.

When the water came, it came fast and hard. He was engulfed in the frigid ocean water.

Most people don’t know that when you are submerged in freezing water, you often don’t have time to freeze to death. The shock of the cold causes you to involuntarily breathe in, inhaling water, which causes you to drown. John knew this. He was a good doctor.

As he drowned, John thought, “Good bye, Lizzy.”

———

“Good bye, Lizzy.”

He kissed his wife on the corner of the mouth. She had a tear forming. “Its so much bigger than in my dreams.”

“I’ll be back before you know it.”

As she watched him walk towards the giant ship, she smiled, “Maybe dreams can come true.”