The Titan Drowns: Time Travel Romance by Nhys Glover (highly recommended books .txt) 📕

seem to care for him at all. He knew he didn’t have much going for him but his looks, and if she was a nurse, then probably doctors were more of interest to her than a mere waiter. And his conversation had not been particularly entertaining or imaginative… he seemed to have lost his easy banter when he was around her. So, all in all, it was no great mystery why she would not be interested in him.

Ah, but she was lovely. It was hard to keep his thoughts organised when he was around her. When he had seen her leaning against the rail, face turned toward the rising sun, straight, fair hair blowing in the breeze, his heart had seemed to stop for a second. And when it resumed, it was beating much too fast and his breath caught in his throat.

It had been like a dream-come-true seeing her there, especially as she had been on his mind ever since the same time yesterday. In a way, it felt as if he had been drawn to her like iron filings to a magnet. When he came on deck it was with no hope of seeing her again, and yet, there she was, and the restlessness that was his constant companion settled and he relaxed, content just to be with her.

However, where he was content she was not. She couldn’t get away fast enough. He needed to face facts – she was not interested. Better for him to focus on his job and his future and stop craving what he couldn’t have.

Resolutely, he turned away from the railing and headed down to his cabin to clean up and dress for his morning shift. Money had been excellent yesterday, and there was no reason why it shouldn’t be just as good today. Before he knew it, his share of the tips would be enough to get clear across the country. Maybe he would go gold mining and make his fortune that way.

However, his dreams didn’t seem as rosy anymore. All he could think about was that the further west he went the further away from Petra he would go.

Maybe he could stay in New York for awhile, find work there. He kicked himself for not asking her last name. Of course, given her distrust of him, she might not have told him even if he had asked. How could he find her in a city as large as New York if he didn’t even know her last name?

Pondering his problem, he went through the motions of his morning until, before he knew it, the luncheon crowd had come and gone and his shift was over for three hours. More tired than he could remember being in a long time, he decided to take a nap.

On his way down the corridor they called “Scotland Road” he came across a group of third class boys gathering; even from a distance, he could sense the aggression in the air. He sped up a little so that he could step in if need be.

What he saw surprised him. Petra’s young cousin was facing off with a boy a head taller and a good deal heavier. They were speaking loudly and angrily in a language he didn’t know, but from the look of the boy cowering behind Micky, Petra’s cousin was standing up for the lad against bullies.

While he hurried toward them, the face-off ended with a punch thrown by the bigger boy. Surprisingly, Micky was not there to feel the brunt of that punch. He had sidestepped and dropped low, leading with a right of his own into his opponent’s unshielded gut. Micky’s punch hit home, and he stepped back as the boy crumpled.

However, with a word, the downed bully had his henchmen grab Micky’s arms, and when the boy was held tight, the bully came up from the floor and pounded into him viciously; several hard blows to the belly and then one to the face.

‘Hey!’ Marco yelled, breaking into a run. The boys looked up and backed off as he barrelled toward them. In a second they were gone, leaving Micky collapsed on the floor, his little friend whimpering at his side.

Dropping to his haunches, Marco tried to get a look at Micky’s injuries.

‘You hurt bad?’ he demanded.

The ten year old looked up from where he lay, crumpled in on himself and shook his head. Even so, it was clear he was, as he didn’t even have breath enough to answer. Marco hoisted the lad up into his arms.

‘I’ll take you to the doctor.’

‘No… no!’ Micky cried with a groan. Then in gasping words he said, ‘Take me to my cabin 101. I’ll be okay.’

‘On this deck?’

The boy nodded and indicated with his head further along the corridor past Marco’s own cabin. His little friend seemed to have vanished as they strode on down the passage and through the doors that separated the third class cabins from the crew’s area.

At 101, Marco knocked on the door and hoped there was someone down here. Most people were up in the recreational areas at this time of the afternoon. Before he had time to worry, the cabin door opened and he saw Petra standing there. She looked at him in stunned surprise. Then, she gathered her senses when she realised who he was holding.

‘Bart. What has happened?’ she demanded, as she moved out of the way so Marco could bring the boy in and lay him gently on the bottom bunk.

‘He got in a fight with a couple of lads bigger than him. They gave him a good hiding before I could get there to break it up,’ Marco told her, standing back and letting her take charge.

‘Where was he hit?’

‘Two or three to the gut and one to the face. The bastardos had him pinned. He didn’t have a chance.’

She nodded and started to feel the boy’s stomach carefully. The boy cried out when she touched something tender. Petra felt more carefully around that area.

‘I think he has cracked a rib. His spleen is tender too. God help him if it has ruptured with the primitive equipment available here.’

She started to inspect the boy’s face then, wiping away the blood with her fingers to find its source. It dribbled from his mouth and from a cut on his cheek. After checking his mouth, she nodded. ‘Looks like they knocked out a tooth. Hopefully, that is the only cause for the blood in his mouth. If not, he has internal injuries I cannot identify. Damn, I need Karl. He would know what to do.’

She stood up and scrapped her hand through her hair, thinking all the while. ‘Can you get to second class? There is a passenger called Karl Ont… no, damn. What is he calling himself? Lang… Langman. His name is Karl Langman. Can you get him and bring him here?’

‘Would it not be better to take him to the surgeon on board?’ Marco asked, a little confused by what she was asking of him.

‘That quack? He will probably want to leech him or something. No, Karl is the doctor we need. Will you get him, Marco? Please? Tell him it’s Bart.’

Looking at him like that, she could have asked him to go to the moon and he would have tried his hardest to get there. If she needed this doctor in second class, he would get him. He nodded and turned, hurrying out of the cabin and through the “crew only” door into the second class reception area. Here he looked for a steward. After a few moments, he saw one coming toward him.

‘I need to locate a passenger. It is a matter of urgency. Karl Langman.’

The steward took in his uniform and frowned. Then he nodded and went to his storeroom. Here, he pulled out a list of passengers and their staterooms. ‘He’s on D Deck, 51. But he won’t be in his room, like as not. But his steward might know where he is. I’ll show ya. This better be important or you’ll be skinned alive for being in this area, cobber.’

Marco made no comment. He just followed the young steward with his strange accent up the stairs to the deck above. When they got to 101, the steward knocked on the stateroom door. There was no answer. A young stewardess hurried toward them, her eyes alight with curiosity.

‘Lucy, do you know this bloke, Karl Langman? This here waiter needs him. Emergency he says…’

The pretty redhead frowned. ‘That’s Mrs Jones’ friend. She’s lying down at present. I’ll go ask her if she’s awake.’

While Marco waited impatiently, Lucy disappeared up the passage and through the door at the far end. In a few seconds, she was back with a lady following closely behind. This woman was obviously in a delicate condition and looked somewhat rumpled.

‘What is wrong? Why do you need Karl?’ The lady demanded.

‘He’s a doctor. A boy has been injured and his nurse has sent for Karl Langman.’

‘Why not go to the surgeon?’

‘He knows better what to do, so she says. Can we find him?’

The lady frowned thoughtfully. ‘He may well still be in the library. That was where I saw him last.’

‘I’ll go,’ offered Lucy. ‘Where does he need to go?’

‘E Deck, third class. If you get him here, I will take him the rest of the way.’ Marco scrubbed at his greased-back hair impatiently.

Without another word, Lucy took off at a run up the stairs. Marco couldn’t help being impressed by how quickly she moved. He wondered if she was a country girl. Such women were known to be more athletic than others of their gender.

‘I better get back. Hope ya find your doc. I’m Jacko, by the by, and ya know where to find me if ya need me again, cobber, all right?’

‘Sí. Thank you, Jacko. Where are you from? Your accent I do not recognise.’

The young man beamed at him. ‘Bloody Australian, aren’t I? See ya.’

With that, the young man disappeared down the stairs back to his own area. That left Marco with the lady, and he glanced at her nervously. She looked vaguely familiar, but he didn’t know where he would have seen her before.

‘You can go back to your nap, Signora. I am sorry to have disturbed you.’

‘Oh, yes… no, I will wait to make sure he is found. The boy is badly injured?’

‘He was beaten by a much bigger boy. Very hard punches to the gut and his face before I could get to them.’

‘Oh, dear. But I wonder why they sent for Karl. You said the nurse sent for him?’

‘Sí. But not the nurse on the ship – a passenger. The boy’s cousin. I do not know why they want this Signor Langman, but she asked and so I came.’

The lady smiled at him knowingly. ‘Ah, a damsel-in-distress. She is pretty, this cousin?’

Marco looked at her more closely. She was very young for all her black widow’s weeds and bulging belly. ‘Yes… no… I mean, not what you would call pretty, but I see her that way.’

‘She is a lucky girl, then. Oh, here they come…’ She turned away, looking over Marco’s shoulder as they heard hurried footsteps approaching.

A young man, not much over twenty, bounded down the last stairs. He rushed over to them with the stewardess two steps behind.

‘Are you all right?’ He demanded of the lady.

‘Yes… yes, it is not me. It is a boy. Do you know his name?’ She turned to Marco and asked.

‘His name is Micky, but I was told to say it is Bart.’

‘Bart is hurt? Take me to him, now!’ The young man’s authority was imposing and Marco reacted instinctively. He led the way back down the stairs. In a matter of minutes, they were through into third class and at Petra’s cabin.