Exactly then, as the sky lightened from black to a rich, vibrant purple at the start of blue hour, James spotted the lights of theCarpathia. So, too, did everyone else.
“Do you see it?” Cassian asked, his voice, while still hoarse and exhausted, had a hint of relief and excitement in it, too. “Carpathia—she’s coming! Look, James! Look!”
Gratitude rose up in James’s chest with the next swell of the ocean, bringing tears to his eyes. All at once, every emotion he had felt over the course of the night crashed over him. Overwhelmed, he began to cry, his muscles shaking and convulsing from having spotted the literal manifestation of hope on the horizon.
“No, she’s not only coming,” James said through a choked-back sob. “She’s here.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Cassian
April 15, 1912
8:18 a.m.
Cassian’s hands shook as he climbed the rope ladder to finally board theCarpathia. Just ahead of him, James was pulling himself up, too, his limbs shaking even more than Cassian’s. Frowning up at him as they ascended, Cassian wished that he had insisted on James being hoisted up instead, as some people from the other lifeboats had been. Of course, when Cassian suggested it to James, James had replied saying that he’d hate to inconvenienceCarpathia’s crew so much. Now, though, Cassian couldn’t help but chastise himself for not having been more forceful with his suggestion.
“Almost there,” Cassian called out, but then winced when he heard how raspy his voice sounded.
He had hoped to sound encouraging, not infirm. He prayed that James had found his pathetically hoarse statement at least a little helpful, rather than worrying.
Cassian paused to wait when James reached the little entryway door thatCarpathia’s crew had opened for them on the side of the ship. Once Cassian was certain that James was safe on board,he resumed climbing, increasing his pace so that he and James wouldn’t be separated for long. Precisely the moment that both of his feet were planted firmly aboard theCarpathia, Cassian’s knees buckled, and he nearly fell over. A crew member was quick to catch him. Cassian’s cheeks warmed with both gratitude and embarrassment. Inhaling a deep breath, Cassian mustered up the rest of his fast-waning strength to push past his mortification and press on.
Next, Cassian and James were both briefly looked over by a physician in one of the saloons, which had been rearranged to be a sort of medical clinic for the survivors. Cassian’s mind stayed muddled throughout his evaluation, and he barely registered a thing that the man said to either him or James while they were looked over. Despite how weak they both were, the physician soon sent them on their way.
Shortly thereafter, someone threw a blanket over Cassian’s shoulders, and then someone else handed the men bowls of hot soup.
Cassian and James looked at each other with small, wearied smiles, but neither of them spoke as they followed the crowd of other survivors ahead of them. Some of the others—mostly women and children, but some men too—were crying, while others, like them, were silent, their faces pale. When the men passed by a woman who was particularly hysterical—her cries loud, her face contorted in pain—Cassian began to clench his teeth.
Anger ripped through him, memories of his fellow passengers screaming in the water flashing in his mind. God, hell, how he hated the woman’s howling!
Cassian looked over at James to check on him. James’s head was low, his face filled with pain. Cassian realized then that he hated the woman’s cries not only because they reminded him of the horrors he’d seen that night but also because he’d known instinctually,even before checking to confirm it, that her howls must have been reminding James of those same horrors, too. Cassian nearly fell over from the rush of relief once he could no longer hear her wails.
Together, Cassian and James walked toCarpathia’s Smoking Room, which had been transformed into a place where survivors could rest and recuperate. Inside, clusters of passengers were sitting on the floor or on sofas and chairs. Some were on mattresses, too, ones that must have been brought out fromCarpathia’s various staterooms.
Crossing the room, Cassian searched for Ethel and John, but it seemed that neither of them had stopped to recuperate there. He wasn’t particularly alarmed though. Cassian knew that his friends were safe. Earlier, he had seen both of them climbing one of the rope ladders while he and James had still been in their lifeboat (or, well, their second lifeboat). Selfishly, even though Cassian knew that Ethel must have been worried about him (likely fearing the worst), he couldn’t make himself care all that much at the moment. Not enough to forgo a bit of rest in favor of searching for her elsewhere on the ship.
Because right now, Cassian’s only priorities were himself and his steward. Everything else could wait.
Soon enough, Cassian and James found a spot on the floor in a corner, far away from everyone else in the room. Dazed, Cassian spilled some of his soup as he reclined back against the wall. He stared at the little orange puddle for several seconds, thinking that someone ought to clean it before coming back to himself and realizing that maybeheought to be that person, seeing as no one else was around andCarpathia’s stewards were probably occupied with the other passengers.
Cassian reached into his pocket for a handkerchief to use, but the moment that his fingers found the cold piece of linen, he was momentarily befuddled as to why on earth the cloth was sowet. In only half a second or so, he remembered himself and then immediately felt ridiculous for the thought.
Never had Cassian felt like this in his life—fuzzy and confused, his mind working embarrassingly slow. He hoped that the nourishment from the soup might alleviate some of the strangeness.
While Cassian was working to wipe up the spill, James sat beside him. Cassian left the handkerchief in a messy ball on the floor. After a pause, James scooted closer to him, snuggling right up next to him and pressing their shoulders together. Cassian’s chest pinched the moment James became settled. Oh, how fervently he wished that he could hold James close and care for him properly. But, of course, such a thing would be impossible here.
Instead, Cassian lifted his chin and motioned toward the hot soup James had cradled in his hands.
“Eat it while it’s still hot,” he instructed in a hoarse voice. He proceeded to clear his throat a couple of times. “It’ll help warm you up. Even in your wet clothes.”
James smiled a little. “Thanks, Cassian. You’re right,” he replied, his voice sounding equally as mangled. His eyes flitted to Cassian’s soup bowl. “And you?”
“I’ll have mine, too,” Cassian promised, lifting it.
Over the next while, the men ate their soup in silence. Halfway through, Cassian finally felt warm enough and clearheaded enough to register its flavor—carrot and thyme, thickened and made richer with cream—and he let out a low moan as he finished the last of it, slurping it from the bowl like some uncivilized brute. James knocked him with his knee for it, making both of them chuckle.
Afterward, Cassian ran his index finger over the porcelain, collecting every Goddamned morsel from the bowl, and then licked it clean.
