Symphonies of the Sea

On a gray April morning, the carriage bounced and jostled over the uneven gravel road leading through the countryside from one city to another. Thin wisps of clouds moved gracefully over the rolling hills as Violet admired the beauty of the land. She took in a deep breath as she closed her eyes, painting a vivid image she could recall later when she became homesick. Amaranthine fields of lush green grass, strings of white snowdrops and pale yellow primroses, stone cottages entangled in gnarled vines, the bleating of sheep and braying of horses. Violet always preferred the peacefulness of the country over the stifling suffocation of the city. She would miss the natural splendor of the English landscape the most over the next few days. However, she also knew that the sea had its own unique elegance.

Earthy undertones of freshly cut grass and damp soil dissipated as the horses trotted forward. As they moved closer to the shore, smog laced with salt water spray tingled Violet’s nose. It was a familiar sensation, one she welcomed. She had done this many times before, but she couldn’t help the uneasiness that crept into her nerves. Clasping her hands in her lap, her palms began to sweat within her gloves even though the temperature hovered just above freezing.

She had sailed on the sea countless times, but she had always kept her wariness of large ships. It was early spring, which meant potentially dangerous weather conditions and a minefield of ice in the North Atlantic. Plus, she had first-hand experience with the unrelenting first-class passengers aboard luxury liners. They were known to be demanding and unabashed. Violet knew her kind nature would appeal to those looking to take advantage of her services.

When the opportunity arose for her to join a few of her fellow stewardesses from the White Star Line on the maiden voyage of the grandest ship that had ever been built, she was urged to go by her friends. In reality, she hadn't had much of a choice. Many of the crew members aboard the Olympic were transferred to work on her sister ship. The best-of-the-best were chosen and Violet was among them.

The gravel road gave way to cobblestones as they entered Southampton. The horses slowed to an even-paced gallop as they approached the port. A dense fog hung over the docks, shrouding all of the ships in a gray veil. The dullness of the port was depressing in comparison to the liveliness of the countryside. The stark contrast between the two never ceased to amaze Violet as she made her journeys across England.

The carriage slowed to a stop as the horses neighed and Violet sighed. Now came the arduous task of preparing the ship for her sailing day. Embarkment was always chaotic and her anxiety began to rise like the tide.

The driver opened the carriage door and offered his hand. "Here we are, Miss."

Violet took his hand, carefully stepping out of the carriage in her brand-new pantsuit. As the driver closed the door behind her, she looked up and got her first glimpse of the Titanic. The gray veil lifted as she admired the magnificent ship. Violet's breath caught as she gaped at her beauty. In truth, the Titanic was not much larger than the Olympic; however, Violet could sense the difference in luxury, even on the outside. The Titanic exuded lavishness and elegance, impeccable design and comfort.

She smiled knowing full well that Thomas Andrews, the ship's wonderful designer, had likely outdone himself. Mr. Andrews was a generous man who strived to make the accommodations more comfortable for the tireless crew. Violet had been pleasantly surprised by the improved crews' quarters on the Olympic and she expected no less on the Titanic.

-

The following morning, the ship bustled with excitement. There was no time for rest as the crew readied the cabins and made last minute preparations. Flowers trimmed and arranged precisely in elegant vases. Lace bedspreads smoothed and set appropriately on new mattresses. Mahogany furniture placed at just the right angles in the sitting rooms. There was always something that needed to be adjusted to appease the anticipated demands of the first-class celebrities who would soon be arriving and settling into their near-perfect accommodations.

Violet rounded the corner of the corridor on her way to get some tea when her knee collided with a piece of luggage.

“Oh, my sincere apologies, Miss,” a handsome young man with a thick Scottish accent met her gaze.

She stood unmoving, still recovering. “No worries, sir,” she assured, although the pain stung her knee.

Both in a hurry, the two were about to go their separate ways when she noticed the shape of his luggage. It wasn’t luggage at all. “You’re a musician?” She asked, motioning to his violin case.

“Oh, not really. I had to toss my violin to make room for my elaborate evening attire,” he joked with a wink, patting the case.

“Ah, how tragic,” she said, smiling. “Very creative piece of luggage then.”

He looked at her uniform, the standard issue white apron over a black dress with a white collar and white cap. “And you’re a stewardess?”

“Oh, not really,” she mimicked. “These were the only clothes I could manage to find.”

He grinned. “Well, you fit right in.”

Violet laughed. "It appears that way."

Glancing at his watch, the young man sighed. “I better be going. Wallace wants us to practice before the first big dinner tonight. It was a pleasure meeting you, Miss…?”

“Jessop. But please call me Violet.”

“What a lovely name. Even more beautiful than the flower.”

Her cheeks bloomed. “You are too kind. And you are?”

“Jock Hume," he introduced, holding out his hand.

Violet accepted and shook his hand firmly. She raised her eyebrows at his unusual name. "Jock?"

He smiled. "John, really. But all the lads call me Jock."

"I see," she said, releasing his hand.

He tipped his hat before heading off. "See you 'round, Miss Jessop."

-

As the first-class passengers began to board and settle into their cabins, Violet ran the lengths of the ship's decks heeding insufferable requests: Mrs. Harmon insisted that her Yorkie, Prince George, have the finest liver pate, Mr. Schooner demanded the highest quality cigars, the Eisenhower twins pouted for more sweets.

Violet's feet ached by the end of the first night, weaving her way through the endless labyrinth of corridors and staircases. She finally took a breath, sitting in an armchair just outside of the first-class dining room. Closing her eyes for a brief moment, her ears attuned to the sound of strings. A lively, jovial melody danced its way out into the lobby. It as a lovely tune and Violet found herself smiling.

She opened her eyes and turned to look through the glass behind her. Past the endless tables of finely dressed women and delicate china, she found the orchestra moving along to their music. All of the men were especially talented and professional, even Jock who was one of the youngest musicians of the group. Violet watched in admiration as Jock skillfully drew his bow across the strings of his violin and his curly hair bounced as he played. Even in her exhaustion, Violet was able to appreciate the happy songs and let herself relax, even if it was only for a short while before returning to the tiresome demands of her passengers.

-

Over the next several days, whenever Violet had a spare moment, she would steal glances of Jock. She listened as he played in the main dining room or in the first-class lounge, his fingers moving gracefully across the bridge of his violin. She loved watching him play with such artistry and enthusiasm. Sometimes, he would catch her out of the corner of his eye in the middle of a melody and wink at her. A rose-colored blush blossomed across her cheeks every time.

One afternoon, Jock caught Violet at the base of the Grand Staircase after a teatime performance with the trio.

“Miss Jessop,” he greeted, nodding his head and tipping his hat, always the gentleman.

“Please, call me Violet,” she said. She disliked formalities, especially with others of her own generation.

“Of course,” Jock replied, “Miss Jessop.” A handsome grin slid across his face.

Violet couldn’t help but smile. She knew Jock was several years her junior, but he was much more mature than other young men his age. Violet had always been mature beyond her years. Being the oldest of her siblings, she was forced to step in as a caretaker, especially when her father died and again when her mother became ill.

“Miss Jessop!”

This time it wasn’t Jock who spoke. Violet spun around at the sharp tone of her superior steward, Edmund. “Why is it that I keep finding you here when you are supposed to be tending to the passengers?”

Embarrassment warmed her skin. Violet bowed her head and gave an apologetic curtsy. “I’m sorry, sir.”

Edmund gave her a stern look, pursing his lips before he stormed off down the corridor after another stewardess.

Violet sheepishly turned to Jock. "I apologize, I must be getting back to work."

"No worries at all. I reckon we'll run into each other again," he said with a wink.

-

At the end of yet another night, Violet rested her forearms on the wooden railing and closed her eyes. It was colder than it had been the previous days and she shivered beneath her heavy overcoat. The planks of the boat deck creaked behind her.

“Enjoying some fresh North Atlantic air, I see.”

Violet smiled to herself at the sound of Jock’s voice. His harsh Scottish accent was unexpectedly soothing. She turned as Jock joined her at the railing, his blond curls slightly rustled, his violin tucked under his arm.

“I’ve been coming out here every night before I retire to the confinement of my cabin below deck,” she said, revealing her late-night ritual.

“Ah,” he said, smiling. “We’ve developed the same habit. I must admit I’m a bit claustrophobic.”

“But your accommodations are much more luxurious than mine, I assure you.”

“Oh? Are the crews’ quarters not laced with gold?”

Violet laughed. “I’m afraid not.”

Jock shook his head, clicking his tongue in disapproval. “What a shame. A lass like you deserves to travel in luxury.”

She blushed. She seemed to do that consistently in Jock’s company. “Do you forget the uniform I wear?”

“No matter,” he said as he gave her a smile. Then he turned his gaze out to the ocean. “Ah, is that not another beauty in the night?"

"It is quite beautiful," Violet agreed as she looked out into the darkness. It was difficult to make out the end of the horizon and the beginning of the night sky. The surface of the ocean a perfect mirror image of the stars sparkling above them.

"The ocean is nothing like the loch back home," he admitted. "Although, it appears to be just as calm tonight.”

They both stood there silently, admiring the serenity of the open ocean. After a few moments, Jock sighed.

"Well," Jock said, pushing off of the railing. "I suppose I'm off. Good night, Miss-” He caught himself with a grin. “Violet.”

-

"What's tickled your fancy?" Elizabeth asked with a sly grin as Violet entered their shared cabin, finally retiring for the night. "Or should I ask who?"

Violet cheeks flushed and all she could do was smile in response as she removed her overcoat.

"It's Jock, isn't it? You know he has eyes for you. But who wouldn't?" Elizabeth said playfully. "He's quite handsome himself."

"Oh, nonsense," Violet laughed, but she knew it was true. She was accustomed to the attention as a young stewardess, but she felt that Jock's intentions were genuine. He was a true young gentleman, unlike some of the other suitors she had encountered on her many journeys across the sea. Other men were crude and vulgar, unable to restrain themselves. She found them to be vile and repulsive. Jock, however, was refreshingly different. He was gentle, kind, and quick-witted. Although their interactions had been limited, she enjoyed their light conversations laced with humor.

Violet changed into her nightgown and settled into her top bunk. Relief flooded her as she got comfortable in her bed. It was a blessing to finally be off her feet for the day. She held her rosary and said her prayers, as she did every night. When she was finished, she placed her rosary under her pillow and suddenly remembered the special Hebrew prayer translated for her by an Irish friend back home. She had forgotten about it until tonight and quickly unfolded the prayer from her pocket. It was oddly written, but it provided protection against fire and water. Violet smiled to herself, thankful for her friend's thoughtfulness.

Her eyes began to flutter closed and she drifted off. Just as she descended into her dreams, a gut-wrenching crash startled Violet out of her sleep. A terrible shaking and grinding and crunching followed for what felt like hours. Violet's heart slammed against her ribcage at an alarming rate as chills plagued her body. There was a shudder, then complete silence. The humming of the engines stopped.

In shock, Elizabeth leaped out of bed and turned on the cabin lights. She and Violet were at a loss of words as they stared at each other. A sharp series of knocks made them gasp. Elizabeth opened the cabin door and one of their fellow stewards, Stanley, stood in the doorway. His face was pale with terror.

He swallowed and then found his voice, speaking as calmly as possible despite his subtle trembling. "Ladies, please put on your warmest clothing and your lifebelts. We are needed up on the boat deck immediately."

-

By the time Violet reached the boat deck, hysteria had taken root. Confused passengers dressed in evening attire and heavy coats looked frantically up and down the deck, unsure of where to go or what to do. Some passengers wore lifebelts, others did not. Not everyone wanted to believe that the unsinkable Titanic was truly plunging into the North Atlantic on what started as such a calm night.

Violet's feet froze as the rich timbre of Jock’s violin floated across the ship’s deck. How could something so beautiful coexist with such devastation? The strings reverberated in the building panic around them. She stood there, staring at the musicians who played ragtime music in their lifebelts to maintain their lively composure.

The moment Jock caught her eye, Violet's heart leaped. He tried hard to conceal his worry, but his eyes betrayed him. They were both serious now, none of the lightheartedness they usually shared in each other’s company. Their lighthearted banter was left at the railing on the other side of the ship only an hour earlier. It was carried away in the subtle breeze and would not be seen again that night. A heavier burden hung over them now, one with such foreboding that Violet insisted that it was simply a bad dream. She had fallen asleep in her cabin and she was imagining this entire ordeal.

However, the officers shouting orders convinced her otherwise. The trepidation in their voices was real, there was no mistaking it as a figment of her imagination. This was happening. The ship deemed unsinkable would in fact end up at the bottom of the North Atlantic in a matter of minutes. Violet kept her fear locked away, tight against her chest. She could not let the passengers sense the panic rising, her pulse quickening as each minute passed and the bow sunk lower into the frigid water.

Lost in the notes hanging in the air around her, Violet startled as someone touched her shoulder. Coming out of a trance, she turned and looked into the tired eyes of Officer Lowe.

“Miss Jessop, please,” he said, gesturing towards the lifeboat behind them. “Many of the women are afraid to get into the lifeboats. Will you show them it is safe?”

Violet looked at the officer and then glanced back at Jock. She watched him until he looked in her direction again. Uncertainty lingered in his blue eyes. Even so, he gave the slightest nod towards her and smiled a tight-lipped smile, a silent farewell.

“Yes, of course,” she finally responded.

Relieved, Officer Lowe offered his hand as he assisted her into the lifeboat. “Thank you, Miss Jessop.”

The lifeboat swayed as Violet stepped in, unsteady on her feet. She trembled as she helped other women into the boat. Many first-class women lingered on the deck, clinging to their husbands. Tears threatened to escape from her eyes, but Violet couldn't falter now. Not when the passengers needed her.

Violet held out her hand to anyone willing to step into the lifeboat. "Please, step this way."

She helped several crying women into the boat, trying her best to reassure them. The lifeboat was almost at capacity when Violet heard Officer Lowe's voice once again.

“Please take him,” Officer Lowe pleaded, passing her a gurgling baby bundled in blankets before turning back to the sudden wave of frantic passengers now rushing the deck.

With no time for questions, Violet quickly took the baby into the safety of her arms. This poor child, she thought as she looked at the infant’s ruddy face. Her heart fell into the pit of her stomach thinking about his mother, her panic surely rising exponentially with the misplacement of her child under such circumstances.

She held the baby against her chest, unable to move. Paralyzed by shock or cold, she couldn’t distinguish one from the other. She sat rigid, confined by the stiffness of her lifebelt under her heavy overcoat. Violet did her best to wrap the baby the best she could with her coat to shield him from the harsh frigid air.

"Start lowering! Steady!" Officer Lowe gave the order to lower the lifeboat. The crewmen furiously worked the ropes and pulleys and the lifeboat moved with a jolt. Violet and the other women gasped as the lifeboat swung precariously over the side of the ship.

Violet hugged the baby close, cradling him in her arms as she closed her eyes. Whispering a short prayer, the happy notes of Jock's violin drifted around her and tears sprung from her eyes. Violet hoped the special Hebrew prayer of protection would keep her safe in her next journey.