The Iowa Sisters #2 The Red North

Chapter 15

CHERBOURG FRANCE AUGUST 1953 "NOMADIC"

"Have a safe trip Britannic!" I called after the Cunard-White Star liner as she left for another journey to New York. "Thanks Nomadic, see you in a few weeks." She replied and raced out of the harbor.

I watched her go for several minutes, and then turned towards the shore. Sighing, I leaned heavily against the dock. For weeks, ships were coming into the harbor left and right. Sometimes it was Britannic, as patient and as kind as ever bless her soul or it was Oceanic, kind but slightly temperamental. There was also United States. She and I got on quite well. She was a chatterbox mostly but she had a kind heart.

Then there was Queen Mary. Ugh, I shuddered at the thought of her name. The Cunard liner was loud, rude, impatient and totally immature. Normally, I didn't mind any ship no matter how annoying they were. But I wasn't as young as I used to be and all this work was making me tired. And when I get tired, I get really, really crabby.

She would arrive at the harbor like she owned the place and if I wasn't out there she would blow her horn loudly and say "Come on tortoise, passengers don't wait all day and I have a schedule to keep."

Most of the time she arrived early so I was busy tendering to other ships. Plus, I wasn't just a fleet tender, I was also the healer here at Cherbourg and Queen Mary just didn't seem to understand that there were other ships in this world.

I heard her impatient whistle at around 3:00, an hour earlier than I had expected. And of course, she was shouting at my tardiness. I may've been older, but I could still hear her loud and clear. "Nomadic, the Cunard Line has need of your services again come on out!" She called.

I groaned inwardly. "Don't break a prop I'm coming!" I snapped crossly. I left the docks and headed out across the harbor to where the giant greyhound was waiting for me, her violet eyes blazing with impatience and her lips pursed as though she was barely restraining herself from hurling a torrent of insults at me.

As Queen Mary was best known for her extreme flotsam mouth, I guessed that was exactly what she was doing.

"Well it's about time." She muttered. "And it's good afternoon to you too, Mary." I sighed. I pulled up alongside and began to take on passengers.

I could feel her violet gaze on my stern as I worked. "The Cunard Line is best known for its greyhounds, the speed demons of the ocean. How can you expect us to be fast on our crossings if we are stuck waiting in port for a day?" She snapped.

"You can always make up time." I said. I kept my voice calm and civil. I was used to her attitude by now so when she started with the insults I just blocked them out and listened to the happy chatter of the passengers instead.

"Thank you Nomadic." A woman said as she jumped onto my deck from the gangway. "Yes, thank you Nomadic." Another said as she climbed down.

I smiled. "Did you have a good trip Mss. Rothes?" I asked the old woman. "Oh, yes indeed." She replied. The Countess of Rothes had been sailing the ocean for a long, long time. Like Mrs. Candee, she was a survivor of the Titanic disaster.

Although it had been over 40 years since her death, I still found myself holding back the tears that came whenever I thought of her. So young, so bright, so cheerful, so eager to prove to White Star that she was the perfect ship.

Yet, she was slain by a simple chunk of Greenland ice. I remembered the one and only time she had anchored here, almost in the exact same spot that Queen Mary was now.

It was nearly 6:00, Titanic was an hour late than expected and I was getting a little concerned. I'd heard from the port authorities that she'd had a near collision with another liner in Southampton and was delayed.