Come Hell or High Water

The first time I saw her, the image of perfection, she was remarkable. A maiden on her first voyage. But even ‘she’ couldn’t compare with the sight of the young woman standing on her deck. Helen was the light of my life.

Unbeknownst to Helen’s father, my plan had been to board the Titanic in Cherbourg, France, seven hours after the family started on their journey to America. Richard had tried to keep Helen and I separated, but we would have none of it. In fact, the fate that he was fighting–my love for Helen–would later change the course of history.

Before Helen ran to me on the deck, under the light’s reflection by the overcast clouds, I saw the look on her father’s face. He hid his shock and annoyance well as she flew to me, nearly losing her hat in the wind. But once I held the love of my life in my arms, all thoughts of her father faded away, and I knew all was well. As long as I had Helen by my side, nothing could ever go wrong. Or so I thought.

Later that evening in the Smoking Room, it didn’t take long for Helen’s father to hone in on the reason for my presence. Well, at least the pretense as to why I was in Europe. “Mr. Bher, I was surprised to see you board. I thought you were back in New York at the firm?” Helen’s father sat opposite me, smoking his cigar.

I took a draw on my cigar and reveled in the taste. I exhaled, savoring the flavor, enjoying its warmth in the coolness of the night. “I had business in Berlin. The timing just happened to coincide with the maiden voyage of the Titanic. Of course I wouldn’t have missed it, not for the world.”

The other men in our group nodded eagerly and murmured in agreement.

“White Star’s service has been impressive.”

“The Titanic is a luxurious mobile city, one capable of traveling swiftly across the Atlantic.”

“It’s making its own statement about the efficiency and technology of the times.”

The voyage had been exhilarating for everyone so far.

But Helen’s father barely hid his annoyance this time. He knew I was referring to being with Helen, not to the actual voyage. He knew I had planned my trip to Europe for the main purpose of pursuing his stepdaughter on this voyage. Richard grimaced, but instead gave the impression it was his cigar that had left a bad taste in his mouth. “Bad draw.” He looked at his cigar. I could tell his annoyance was building.

Helen’s father stood up at that point and excused himself. We watched as he departed the Smoking Room by way of the Aft Grand Staircase. I felt rather uncomfortable in the awkward silence that ensued. I considered taking my leave, as well.

One of the other gentlemen spoke. “Don’t worry about him, Lad. Just court the young lady. He’ll come around.”

I nearly choked on my brandy. The searing heat hit the back of my throat. Between cigars and brandy, I suddenly needed a glass of cool water. I wondered if my face was as red as it felt.

“I actually think he’s warming up to you.” There were murmurs of agreement.

As others gathered around, it seemed evident I had become the entertainment for the evening. It could have been the opportunity to share ‘words of wisdom’ with a young chap that was drawing their interest. On the other hand, it may have been the opportunity to roast me that drove them to chime in. I know I already felt like my face was roasting, so they were already successful in achieving that goal.

Throughout the evening, I was subjected to ruthless teasing. Thankfully, I’m a good sport, and also had fun with it. It was an invigorating evening with the gentlemen, but unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. At least that was the quip given at ‘last call’.

As I lay in bed that night, I drifted off with thoughts of Helen on my mind. Nothing would stand in the way as I pursued her. I would somehow win over her father.

The following morning, refreshed and ready to court the woman of my dreams, I made my way to Reception, keeping an eye out for Helen and her parents.

At the call of the bugle, we made our way into the Dining Room. I had arranged with the Purser upon boarding to sit with Helen and her parents. I was seated with them, and as it dawned on them what I had done, they made no objection. We were in high society after all.

Helen’s parents had no choice but to accept me as a member of their party for the remainder of the voyage or be faced with scandalous gossip. Not that I would purposely ever consider blackmailing the family—for dear Helen’s sake, never! But some people pushed propriety so far, that I would use it to my advantage in order to publicly court my love.

Instead, the family acted as though I had been invited by them. It was assumed I would be spending time with them as their fourth to even their pairing throughout their journey. The men from the previous evening, however, knew the truth. More than one sly smile had been sent my way over breakfast. If I hadn’t known better, I would have guessed they had placed bets on me! Thankfully, none of them seemed to have told their wives of the discourse between Richard and myself the night before.

I bit into a piece of baked apple, plated on crested china, while attentive to Helen if she should need anything. At that point the conversation turned from morning pleasantries to a less pleasant subject. The possibility of war in Europe.

“I must apologize for my husband.” It was a woman from across the table who spoke. I couldn’t recall her name. “Right now the possibility of the Balkans uniting and going to war is all he can think about.”

“Well, as we all know, France and Germany oppose it at all costs. It’s not a conflict they want to see escalate.”

“Oh come on, Germany has its own designs on Bulgaria.”

“And you think Russia doesn’t have its competitive eye turned outward?”

“On the same area Bulgaria has designs on.”

“You know, tensions can’t just be swept underneath a rug.”

One of the ladies chimed in. “I don’t understand why everyone is scrambling after what someone else has their eye on.”

Her husband responded. “It’s like the time Mary bought that new hat, Dear. You envied it so much I didn’t hear the end of it until I bought you an identical one. And then you never did wear it, did you?”

Another lady asked a question. (Dear me, I’ve forgotten her name as well. Too many introductions). “But why have so many fingers in so many pies? It sounds like a mess!”

“It’s like a knitting project, Dear.” Her husband attempted to explain. “Except everyone has their crochet hooks in someone else’s project.”

“That would be knitting needles, Dear. And it sounds so unproductive. Everyone’s project would distort or pull apart.”

I looked over at my dear, sweet, Helen, who had blanched, and thought to steer the conversation from such awful topics like war and politics. “Maybe we should save this conversation for the Smoking Room later.”

“Ah, yes.”

“Good call, Behr.”

We returned to pleasantries, and discussed who we’d seen so far on board. I enjoyed some buckwheat cakes and an omelet, before starting on some smoked salmon. Although I’m not fond of meat or strong fish in the morning, unlike some others who sat with us, I do enjoy smoked salmon.

While her father enjoyed his steak and jacketed potatoes, my Helen enjoyed two poached eggs with her buckwheat cakes. It seemed mealtimes were to be longer affairs, with breakfast alone spanning two hours. Just before ten, I asked if Helen would like to take a turn about the deck with me—under the watchful eyes of her parents, of course.

Before her father could dissent and make up some plans on the spot which he would then need to follow through with, Helen’s mother readily assented.

“That will be fine, Mr. Behr.”

After all, now I was one of their party, it meant I would be going along with them to other meets where Helen was invited. It seemed Helen’s mother had caught onto this before her husband. She also realized a turn about the deck would also give her husband a bit of distance from me, and with the weather, a chance for him to cool off.

“Is 10:30 suitable for you, Mrs. Beckwith?”

“That would suit us just fine, Mr. Behr.”

I greeted them farewell, and made for my rooms to change for our morning stroll. We met on the deck a short time later.

As Helen stepped into the overcast glow, shimmers of light shone through the edges of her hair, giving her an ethereal look. She was not of this world. That has always been my belief. From the first time I glimpsed her, all those years ago, I’ve thought of her as an angel. Precious, and needing protection from the evil in this world.

We took a turn about the deck. She had taken on a shy demeanor, perhaps due to being under her parents’ watchful eyes. I gently offered my arm to her, which she took. To be with a creature of such grace and beauty made it difficult to breathe. I felt her tremble.

“Are you cold, Dear?”

She looked up at me demurely, tilting her head so her hat no longer obscured her face.

“No, I’m fine. I’m better than fine, now that you’re here.” She became more animated. “What possessed you to take the Titanic? I’ve been dying to know how this all came about.”

It was at that moment, when ‘in my mind’ we turned to face each other, I dropped my head down, and kissed her tenderly on the lips. However, her parents being behind us stopped that fantasy cold. Without hesitation, we continued to walk down the promenade. I wondered if Helen had any clue as to where my thoughts had just strayed.

“You possessed me, Helen. I had the opportunity to do some business in Berlin, and I switched my ticket at the last minute to board the Titanic. Barely made it to the ticket office and lost my hat on the way. Carriage ran over it.”

She laughed. Her voice sounded like music.

“I’m so glad you did switch it. I was so excited when I saw you there on deck. Excited and surprised!”

I kept my voice low. “I could definitely tell your father was surprised. And annoyed.”

“Don’t call him that. He’s really my stepfather, you know.”

“Ah, sorry, Love. But maybe you underestimate him. He is fiercely protective.”

“Against you, you mean. From what I understand, a lot of girls go through this at my age. I’ve read serials about it. Their parents don’t understand what love is.” Suddenly, her cheeks reddened.

My heart soared. Did she just say what I thought she did?

She cleared her throat. “Interesting weather so far, mainly overcast and windy.” At that moment, as if to emphasize her words, her hat flew off. The pink ribbon around her chin stopped it from completely blowing away.

“Mother says I need to start learning how to secure my hat pins properly. I couldn’t be bothered to ask Martha after breakfast. She hasn’t had time to even breathe since we left.”

“You are always so kind to others. It’s one of the things I love about you, Helen. Regardless of a person’s station, you always treat them with dignity.” I reflected on my own situation. “And regardless of where a person has come from, you accept them at face value.”

I felt her squeeze my hand. “And I love the way you always remember your roots, and treat people equally.”

She looked up at me with admiration. I was glad her hat had flipped backwards. I could see the lovely contours of her face. In all honesty, I adored her. Everything about her was admirable.

As we walked around the deck, we paused here and there to get a look at the mainland that was closing in. We were about to make our last stop in Queenstown, Ireland, before setting sail across the Atlantic. Watching others board was an interesting sight, indeed.

I can only imagine what people were thinking when I first encountered Helen on the deck in Cherbourg. Surely some tongues were wagging about us. That type of thing never bothered me, apart from the way Helen may be affected of course. I could only imagine the pressure she must feel at times from her family and from society gossip.

We watched the interesting characters boarding the Titanic, attempting to guess their backstories and history. We enjoyed the activity, speculating on who was who and their tragedy or fortune. Just hearing Helen laugh was a delight.

Our time together ended during the next bugle call, giving notice that lunch would be proceeding soon. We reluctantly said goodbye, but knew we would be meeting again soon, as I was now officially a member of their party. It was expected by ‘society’ that I would be with the Beckwiths for the entirety of the remaining journey. To be absent would indicate something was amiss, and set tongues wagging with speculation.

Our afternoon together flew by, and I was later seated beside Helen again for the evening meal. Supper was a wondrous, decadent affair. Mealtimes easily ran five hours, with ten courses served. There were hors d’oeuvres, oysters, salmon, filet mignon, lamb, duckling, sirloin of beef, to name a few--all with unique sauces, sides, and paired with wines.

Helen’s penchant for sweets showed when it was time for the desserts. I watched in amusement. She must have saved room for those eclairs, as I couldn’t eat another morsel. Then it was spirits and cigars in the Smoking Room with the men, and I was separated from my beloved until morning.

The following days were surreal for me. I was in the finest place in the world, with the finest woman in the world. My encounters with Richard though—when the women weren’t around, the gloves came off. Otherwise he was a burr in my saddle and I was a thorn in his paw. The tension grew to the point where it was palpable.

But I was a fighter. I grew up as a scrapper, and would show Richard how determined I was to be worthy of his daughter. I was tenacious and would not let go, regardless of the comments meant to discourage me. I think he was beginning to see that. I couldn’t tell if he thought that was an admirable quality or a foolhardy one.

We were back in the Smoking Room, a place where tensions are supposed to melt away. But it seemed each time Richard and I engaged, we clashed. If it wasn’t on one issue, it was on another. But the unspoken words were the most significant. The elephant in the room everyone was aware of stood at full attention, but no one addressed it directly. Instead, everyone delicately side-stepped the subject of Helen and myself, and for good reason.

The latest conflict was a jostling for position in the debate between those who had been born to wealth and those who had worked hard to build wealth. Should both have equal social standing? Of course, Richard and I were at odds on that one.

The temperature of the debate was heated on both sides, whereas the tone was chilly on Richard’s end.

“I don’t see why a legacy built over generations wouldn’t be more valuable to one’s social standing than one that has been quickly acquired. Legacies imply stability. A quickly acquired fortune in one generation can be spent quickly, as one doesn’t appreciate the true value of money.”

We had been going at it for an hour, and I couldn’t see an end to the fierce debate. Men chimed in on both sides, but they knew the underlying question was: Am I, the son of an immigrant, with newly acquired wealth and notoriety, good enough for Richard’s daughter? Richard’s position was clear in the debate. He thought not. Men sympathized with both of us, which did influence some of their words. They said they would make ‘exceptions’ in some circumstances, whereas others stood their ground on one side or another.

He took a stab at me. “It’s too damn fast to be considered stable.”

Richard craned his neck, as if he was attempting to look out a window. However, as they were all stained glass, he couldn’t see anything, except for the drip of condensation running down the colored surface. Unfortunately, the windows provided no insulation against the cold, and still let the cold in. “And we’re going too damn fast for this kind of sea.” He muttered. “There’s bound to be ice.”

It was the perfect segue and the group took advantage of it. The men began debating what would happen if the unsinkable Titanic were to make contact with ice.

It was true, I reflected, there had been a chill in the room. It was only then I realized it had nothing to do with Richard’s coldness toward me. The air was, as one of our group had put it, ‘damn cold’. I’d been so distracted with my personal situation and its undercurrents as I wrestled with Helen’s father, that I hadn’t taken stock of simple observations around me.

The cold wasn’t letting up, and it was 11:30pm. The bar was now closed, and the smoking room would be closing shortly. Our group decided to retire. After Helen’s father left, I made my way to C-Deck, and my rooms.

Reflecting on our earlier conversation, I wondered if I should have let up a bit. My presence on the ship was clearly a cause for Richard’s irritation. I yawned, and was injected with a dose of sleepiness. I’d have to think about it more tomorrow. I mechanically followed the gold-on-navy damask-patterned carpet until I reached my stateroom on the port side.

Once inside my dark wood-paneled room, I began removing my clothes, revealing my athletic body. I had endured intense training for competitive sports, particularly tennis, during my Yale years. That’s what made the situation between Richard and I odd. I’d graduated from his Alma Mater, yet wasn’t up to standard for his stepdaughter?

Our families were acquainted, as I had met Helen originally through my younger sister. If Richard had any discernment of character, as I believe he well did, he would see I was from good, hard-working stock. I had worked my way from lowly beginnings to where I am today. I could easily maintain the perseverance to give Helen the life she deserved. Perhaps Richard was the type of father who felt no suitor without traditional money would be adequate for his daughter. Well, I intended to give her the world, and I was determined to deliver on my resolve.

Suddenly, I was ripped from my reverie, as I felt the ship jolt. Surprisingly, it nearly knocked me off my feet. A ripple of cold traveled down my spine that had nothing to do with the chilly weather.

I quickly dressed and went after Helen. I didn’t know if anything serious had occurred, but the earlier conversation in the smoking room played through my mind. What if we’d hit some ice? The ship would obviously be fine, but what if it had knocked Helen off her feet or she had been injured?

On the way to D-Deck, I ran into a wide-eyed Helen in the passage. She had been awakened by a scraping sound and strong vibration. I checked on her, saw that she was physically alright, and together we went to the upper deck. A small group had congregated there to discover just what had happened.

“I-it’s so c-cold!” Helen was shivering. I immediately removed my jacket and placed it around her shoulders. Even with our multiple layers of clothes, the cold cut through us like a knife. I pulled her tightly to my side. We could see our breath in front of us.

I could see the ship had been damaged and was leaning starboard. I surmised the ship would be fine--after all it was unsinkable--but I’ve never been one to throw caution to the wind. I insisted we immediately get Helen’s parents and ensure their safety.

We ran down the grand staircase to D-Deck, through the First Class Reception to the staterooms, and alerted the Beckwiths as to the situation.

“I think it’s best we err on the side of caution.” I thought of the ship leaning to the side. I had to take control of the situation, and avoid drawing Richard into an argument. That would exacerbate things, especially as we were unsure of the status of our current situation.

Helen’s father had the steward lock up our rooms to prevent theft while we went up to the deck, as that was the greatest concern he had at the moment. He’d barely felt anything on his deck, just a little tremor, as if the ship had mildly scraped by something. He may have thought I was something of an alarmist, but he seemed willing to humor me without objecting. However, he was watching me like a hawk, especially when I took the gloved hand of his daughter in mine.

On the way up to the deck, Captain Smith was telling the passengers to put their life belts on. It looked like just a precaution, but there was something in his face that said otherwise. My sense of concern started to grow.

I led the family up to the top deck, and we were immediately ordered to the boats with a few dozen other passengers. We waited without entering the first boat, as we didn’t want to be separated from Helen and her mother. However, since Richard and I were also permitted to join Helen and her mother in the second boat, the four of us joined.

It was the first time I had seen Richard look at me with approval. He had seen me decisively take steps to ensure his daughter and family were taken to safety. Even if there wasn’t a major security risk, he realized I would always proceed with caution when there was the slightest possibility that there could be danger.

I was one of the men to row, and we waited about a quarter mile from the ship. We still didn’t believe the Titanic would ever sink, but I would do anything to ensure Helen’s safety, even if it meant being overprotective out of an abundance of caution. Some of our passengers were transferred to another boat, since we were so cramped together. From the distance, as if in a bad dream, we could see the Titanic filling up with water gradually, over hours. To me, it felt like minutes.

Then in a surreal state, I watched as the Titanic tipped up on end rapidly and went straight down. We could hear loud hissing, explosions, and then screaming from the remaining passengers in the icy water. Our boat wasn’t permitted to go back for survivors, since it would put our group at risk.

For many of us, the guilt from the inner conflict of the decisions made that night would linger for years. We took turns rowing away from the ship, not knowing what our end would be. Helen and I huddled close together, wet and freezing.

A blur, then a mirage of a ship appeared. Then it materialized into an actual ship with lights.

“It’s the Carpathia!” As the crew member shouted in excitement, I felt warm relief flood through my body. I could feel more physical sensation than a few minutes before. I felt Helen’s small body shivering as I protected her with mine, trying to share my body heat.

“Helen?”

“Yes, Karl?”

I suddenly knew it was the right time to ask the woman of my dreams the most important question of my life. There was no more appropriate time. My heart began to pound, even through the icy coldness.

“If we are saved, would you let me stay by your side throughout the duration of our lives?”

I could feel Helen’s heart rate quicken. There was a hush through the lifeboat, as everyone listened in. I held Helen closely, waiting for her answer.

“Karl, I have known for years that you were everything I could wish for in a husband. I didn’t know until tonight that you were also a hero. You saved my family.” She sounded breathless. “I will stay with you throughout eternity.”

As we were safely taken aboard the Carpathia, we recognized the fragility of life. How quickly our lives could have been snuffed out, like hundreds of others had been. We had been plunged into the most serious conflict we could possibly face, one of ‘life and death’. Sometimes it takes the gravest of circumstances to make our true feelings known. And sometimes it takes the most dangerous of situations for our character to be revealed.

The following year, in what the press termed the 'Love Story of the Century’, Helen and I were wed, with her parents' blessing. She and I stood at the altar together, repeating our vows. The sweetness of her voice was entrancing. In her long veil and her gown of white satin, Helen looked like an angel. My angel. For all eternity.