Letters

April 10th, 1912

Mama,

I'm finally on my way. I'm finally going to get to start over. Away from everything, away from life. There is hope yet, mama. Just wait. I've heard many wonderful things about New York- if you could see me now, you'd be proud. I even saved up for this trip on my own. Can you believe it?

Me, a woman, with my own money!

With any luck, the publishing opportunities in New York will be ripe for women. It can't be any worse than London. The change of scenery alone was justification enough to pay 5 pounds.

I know it's a lot of money. I pray to the Lord every day you'll forgive me for using the last bit of my savings, but I promise you this will be the choice that changes my life. I've even heard rumors about a National Women's Party. They're making great strides there mama.

Anyways, I must wrap this up now, but please, please do believe in me. You will not be forgotten, and when I make my fortune in New York, I promise to visit. I will not forget you.

Yours, Mabel

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April 12th, 1912

Mama,

I must admit the D-deck is actually quite nice. I was surprised when I boarded, but there is enough space for my belongings, but most important my journal. I am housed near a family of three, a wife, her husband, and their young child Albert.

They told me they are planning on starting a new life in New York as well, apparently, the father, Edmund, was told of a factory situation that would provide much better for them than in England. It's why he, Albert, and Catherine are here.

Though, you know I can't help but gossip. So when Albert and Edmund went off to play cards and checkers, Catherine would remain behind and converse with me while I wrote. She thinks Edmund has done something terrible, of which she does not know- apparently, this trip wasn't planned but rather a last-second packing the night before. Catherine said at this time last week she had no idea the ship even existed, much less had purchased any tickets. She didn't want to leave England but had no choice when Edmund gave her an ultimatum.

I pity her, really. She reminds me of you. At least you had the power to leave father. It seems Edmund simply expects his wife to listen to his every whim. I pity her, but maybe, if I see her around New York, we can start seeing what this National Women's Party is all about. I just hope that what happened to you isn't repeated with Catherine.

Yours, Mabel

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April 14th, 1912

Mama,

I truly think Catherine is in danger. It sounds so much like you. I remember you telling me how Papa took you away from everyone- and it seems like Catherine is in trouble. I do not know what to do. Even now, I have to hastily write to you before lights out. The stewards allowed me a few more moments to finish up, but I couldn't write in the room any longer. Edmund was pretty trite when it came to Catherine inquiring about getting herself a journal when they arrive. Ever since then, he's been making his presence known and barely leaving Catherine alone for any length of time. I fear for her when we depart this vessel.

I find now, more than ever, that I miss you. I miss your touch, your comfort, and your strength. I feel lost without your guidance, even more so now that I see you reflected in Catherine. I have only a few days to figure something out. I want her, and Albert, to be safe. What do I do?

I've had so much trouble sleeping, but now I must finish up for the night, I'm getting looks from the stewards.

Yours, Mabel

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April ..., 1912

Mama,

Something is wrong. Something is dreadfully wrong.

The stewards roused us a few moments ago and asked that we get dressed and try to find our way to the main deck. Edmund, Catherine, and Albert left quickly, but I can't find the energy to leave. I feel stuck here. Something is telling me to stay. I can hear people whispering in cabins nearby, some arguing in different languages, and some trying to communicate with the stewards. I took a peek into the hall, and it felt just cold and empty. It seemed the only problem was that people were being roused from sleep.

Edmund returned, muttering something about the unfairness of women and children getting to leave first. He said they're filling lifeboats now, and that he was told there was no point in him continuing up. He came back to get whatever was left of their possessions.

I guess we're sinking? Maybe this is Catherine's way out. Just maybe this was just the "Wonder Ship" instead of the "Unsinkable Ship". May God rest my soul- if such an end is upon us.

I, however, am going back to sleep. I'm exhausted, Mama. Maybe I'll see you soon.

Yours, Mabel