John 'Jock' Law Hume by Alice Arbuthnot (read after .TXT) 📕

“It really is quite massive,” says Mary from behind me. “That it is, dear,” I say with a chuckle as I turn around and pull her into my arms. “Will you be gone long?” she asks again, concern in her eyes. I give another laugh, “Only a few days, darling. It shall be a quicker trip than that other one to the Americas a few months ago.” “Alright. Do you have your extra strings?” I hold up the violin case, “All in the box.” “And your polish, and peg chalk?” she goes on, “ What about those extra socks? Oh, I left your extra overcoat at home—“ “Mary!” she stops and looks up at me, “Do not worry hon, I’ll be home in about a week.” She sighs and takes a sudden interest in the ground, “Alright, I’ll miss you, Jock. Do not go running off with some pretty first class girl now.” I give her a reassuring smile , “She’d never be as beautiful as you,” I say placing a kiss on her forehead. “Now come on, the Titanic waits for no man,” I say practically dragging her through the crowd to the loading doors.
“John Law Hume,” I say to the man, showing him my ticket. “And the lady?” he says turning to look my fiancé. “Oh, no sir she gets sea sick. Just me this time.” He glances at Mary’s worried expression, “Do not worry, Madam,” he says reassuringly, “God couldn’t sink this ship.”
I look over to the tall stern which seems a mile away, “Jock?” Mary says tenderly. “Hmm?” I mumble in response. “I—I, well.” I look down at her and see her chew her lip nervously as she studies my face. “What is it?” I ask. “I—“ she pause and lets out a sigh, “I love you.” I smile a t her and pull her into my arms, “I love you too,” I say giving her a kiss. The horn blows for passengers and crew, “That’s my cue,” I say Smiling at her. “I’ll see you in a week,” I say giving her another kiss and walking up the ramp.

***

Darkness finally falls as I enter the dining hall of the first class. Their uppity clothes and upturned noses standing out as we take stage. Wallace Hartley, the bandleader, stands in front of us as we file into our pre-ordained positions. We start a soft song as the chaps sip their wine and the ladies nibble on crumpets. They let us drift to background music and continue our jobs into the late hours of dinner as the men disappear for brandy and the ladies to their rooms to retire.
“Ever get tired of being ignored?” Georges, my roommate and fellow violinist asks. “No sir, you get over it,” I respond laughing, “And if they did take notice they could point out all our flaws.” He gives a hearty French man’s laugh, “We didn’t do too bad,” he says putting his violin in its case. “Come on, let’s head back to the room, we play breakfast tomorrow,” I say picking up my case. Georges lets out groan from behind me, “Aw, aren’t you going to stay for a brandy? Maybe see if a few ladies from second class will give us a dance?” “No sir, sorry. Told my fiancé I wouldn’t look at another girl, much less give her a dance,” I explain. “Your loss,” he says with a shrug.
The alarm clock scream six-thirty as I quickly slap to turn it off. I crawl out of bed and stumble to the wash room for a shower. Twenty minutes later I come out of the wash room scrubbing my teeth down. With a glance over at Georges’ bed I toss a pillow at him. He lets out a moan on impact, “What time did you get in?” I ask spitting into the sink. “Ugh, around three,” he says from beneath the covers. “Hartley’s going to have your head if you do not get out of bed,” I warn. “Well, I give him luck in finding it cause it sure seems out of my grasps,” the blanket mumbles. I chuckle and rinse my mouth out, “Just get up.” I button up my uniform shirt, “See you in twenty for warm-ups,” I say tying my tie and grabbing my case. Another groan comes from under the blanket as I walk out the door.
“Nice of you to join us, Mr. Krins,” Hartley says as Georges walks through the door thirty minutes later. He takes his place beside me and returns my grin with a scowl. “Ah, put a sock in it,” he mumbles raising his violin to his chin.
***
“Alright men, we play ‘Alexander’s Ragtime’ and, ‘In the Shadows’ for opening and closing at dinner tonight. In between we’ll play ‘Waltz 1’, ‘Waltz 4’, —“ Hartley goes off naming the songs for tonight’s performance as my mind wanders. Georges seems to have the same idea as he watches a young woman, no more than eighteen, pass by. I suppress a smile as I tune back into Hartley’s speech. “—then the doors close at twelve. We do not play breakfast tomorrow, so get a goodnight’s sleep gentlemen, I’ll see you in a few hours.”

I glanced up at the billows of dresses as we played that night. It was quite beautiful, Mary would have enjoyed it. I have to remember to take her dancing when we get back, she enjoys going dancing.

“Euro for your thoughts?” Georges asks, as we overlook the railing at the pool. “They’re worth more than that,” I exclaim. He lets out a laugh, “Well I lost the rest on a gamble last night, so that’s all you get.” “We still have four days on the ship, pace yourself!” I practically order.
“Aw, be a sport John,” he glances over the railing, “really is such a shame it’s too cold for the pool.” I sigh and look down at it, “They say it’s heated.” “Heated?” he asks. “Yes sir, right down to the pool floor,” I answer as a girl slips her legs in. “Hey, is that the girl from a few nights ago?” I ask him, “The one who was outside the practice room?” “The very same,” he says with a smile. I give him an raise of an eye brow. “Her names Clara, she’s from third class and could outsmart any one of those snobs in first,” he answers defensively. “Why Georges Krins,” I say, “ If I didn’t know better I’d say she’s the one you’ve been staying out late for!” He chuckles and returns a wave she’d given us, “She was the gamble.”
A smile pulls at my lips, “Don’t let her play you now, boy.” “Ah, she’s much too classy for that Jock,” he says. “Whatever floats your boat,” I say raising my hands in surrender, “but don’t come crying to me when she take your very last euro and jumps off in New York.” He smiles a little more, “Her birthday is in two days, you know the sixteenth,” he continues, “ you want to be a good friend and spot me some money for a present from the shop?” I let out a groan, “Georges—“ I start but he interrupts me, “Please, Jock. Pleeeeeaaaasseee?! I promise I’ll pay you back when we dock,” he begs. “Fine, but just this once, okay?” I give in. He pops up and claps me on the shoulder, “Thanks chap.” “Whatever, just remember we dock on the seventeenth,” I warn, “That gives you three days to scrounge up the money.” “I know, Jock, I know.” “Alright,” I say, “come on, we play lunch in the dining room in an hour. Hartley’s going to want us to tune up beforehand.”

***

Thud

. Georges groans from across the cabin. “You alright?” I ask him, my voice hoarse from lacking sleep. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he responds from somewhere on the floor, “Did you feel that? The whole cabin shook.” I had, of course, but I was hoping it was just a dream that I’d now long forgotten. “Jock?” he asks. “Of course I felt it,” I answer a little crankily.
I stumble through the dark for the lamp, “The floor all that comfy?” Georges lay wrapped in covers beside his bed, “Oh, like you don’t even believe,” he said as he sat up and rubbed his head. I toss him his coat, “Want to find out what all the ruckus is?” I ask putting on my own. “What time is it?” he groaned as he got up. “Um, eleven-forty one,” I say looking at the clock face.
As we walk out of the cabin we see other passengers had the same idea as us. The hall was littered with people leaning half out their doors or wandering down the hall to the stairs. Georges and I move with growing flow of people up to the main deck. “Come on, Jock,” Georges says, taking my arm and dragging me through the throng of people to ship’s stern.
Fifteen minutes later we stand at the back of the boat, not sure what we were looking for. “Something probably got caught in the turbines,” Georges says. “The turbines?” I ask, “Like what?” He shrugs his shoulders, but continues to stare intently over the side into the darkness. “Gentlemen,” a voice says from behind us. I turn to see Hartley. “Please go back to your rooms, retrieve your violins and meet me at the First Class Lounge shortly,” he says and starts to turn away. “Hartley,” I call after him, “what happened? We felt a shudder and came up here.” I may be mistaken, but his eyes twinkled a little bit with something that looked a lot like fear, “I’ll explain within the hour,” with that he walked away.

***

Forty-five minutes later Georges and I reemerge into the ever-growing crowd, cases in hand and curiosity blooming. Rumors of evacuations and crashes around every corner. Passengers whisper to one another nervously as we make our way to the First Class Lounge. Hartley stands in the middle of the rich with a group of men with assorted instruments. “John, Georges,” he says as we join the group, “ I’d like you to meet..” he goes off introducing the men, one-by-one. I only recognized a few from the band, others were from the Orchestra or the violin trio. “Are the rumors true?” I ask after introductions. He sighs and looks at me mournfully, “It’ll be chaos and hysteria out there, we must keep things under control.” He meets each of eyes before signaling for us to begin. We each pass a questioning look asking what to play, but Georges raises his violin and begins the tune of “In the Shadows.”
The room quiets a little as the rich, for the first time, started to take notice of the performers. Confusion still in the air, but now mixed with respectful silence that surround the music’s flow.
As the precious time slips by, the passengers take to the life boats and we move to the Grand Staircase. We move through people holding children and tying life vests around them, suddenly a girl, clad in the white vest, clings to Georges’ neck. He has her walk with us quieting her tears with words of sentiment, encouraging her to