The Explorer's Apprentice

61:Mr. Andrew's Warning

I only own the bit of Rose that is Marley.:)

Marley Faulkner

The great dining hall is packed with hundreds of wealthy families. They chatter away like birds, laugh, joke, shout, and wander about like always, glittering under the bright light of the tall, crystal chandeliers like always. The orchestra plays a bright selection of upbeat symphonies, children play with dolls in the corners, and waiters bustle about offering drinks and tea cakes. If it weren’t for the fact that everyone is wearing an identical, off-white, puffy life-vest well past twelve in the morning, the entire scene would look completely normal.

“It’s the goddamn English doing everything by the book!” Cal complains. There’s an entire room full of jolly faces in front of them, and Cal is quick to push rudely past, bumping and bruising those around him like a tornado. Marley doesn’t even know where he’s planning on going, but she follows, sort of in a daze. It’s like her body is on autopilot and her mind is actually somewhere unknown, miles and miles away. Her head is literally full of nothing—no thoughts or opinions or feelings.

She feels like a ghost.

“There’s no need for language, Mr. Hockley,” Ruth says lightly as she, Marley, and Cal pass the grand staircase. Several maids follow from behind, and one called Matilda places a thick, fur coat atop Ruth’s frail shoulders.  “Go back and turn on the heaters in our rooms,” she instructs the shy group of servants who have accumulated around her, as if she’s royalty. “I’d like a cup of tea when we return.”

The few maids nod ‘Yes, Ma’ams,’ and turn their heals to go.

And then, through the corner of her almost dead eyes, Rose sees him—a kind, familiar face amongst the sneers around her. She almost doesn’t recognize him at first, for she’s never seen eyes so gray and empty aside from her own. Especially on this man, Mr. Andrews.

The strangeness of his expression is what brings her out of her own daze. He drifts around a corner and right past her, taking slow, almost clumsy steps. His blank stare is cast straight ahead, not even seeing her.  His eyes are so sunken that it looks as if he’s been punched in both sockets.

Marley wonders if this is what she looks like to the world. They’re two of a kind, she and Mr. Andrews, immersed in misery.

Perhaps this is why she drifts away from Cal and Ruth and follows him as he ascends up the staircase. She gently grabs onto the back of his arm. “Mr. Andrews?”

He turns around slowly, his brows furrowed at first, as if surprised at the presence of a fellow human being.

“I saw the iceberg,” she says softly. The memory is so close she can feel it. The entire ship is so full of memories, now. Her bedroom, the elevator, the engine room, the kitchen, the storage room, even the stairs she stands on now. Everywhere she goes is painful. So many beautiful memories constantly reminding her of what she’s lost—or of what she truly never even had. Marley swallows. “And I see it in your eyes. Please tell me the truth.”

Marley knows that she couldn’t handle another lie.

She watches the man’s crestfallen chest rise and fall, and he takes her arm gently, leading towards the bottom of the stares, off to the corner, where no one will hear.

He takes in a deep breath and looks at her. The irises of his eyes are gray—just like her’s. “The ship will sink.”

Marley can feel her very heart drop into the souls of her feet. She knew this, of course she did. Her uncle Broke studies sunken ships for a living, ships just like the Titanic. Somehow, though, it took Mr. Andrews very words to jog this specific memory.

She already knows the devastating news that is going to come out of his mouth next. “In an hour, or so, all of this will be at the bottom of the Atlantic.” But even though she expects this, hearing him say it like the final blow to the head. Marley’s hand goes to her mouth in pure shock. She cannot even manage a word.

The submersible travels the length of the ship, bound for the bottom half that is clearly not there. The journey takes forever, and Marley gets a feeling of just how large the boat once was. Portholes zip past, the walls beneath them almost totally eaten away by rust, the animals inside them darting away from the submarine's searchlight. A bright yellow spider crab startles Marley as it appears in a corner of the shot and scuttles across the submarine. The picture rises, and the group stares into the black, devouring hole that ends the front half of Titanic. It looks like something took a huge bite out of it. The edges are still ragged after a century underwater.

“What?” Says Cal, whom she hadn’t even noticed was behind her. In the background of the chilling night, Rose can still hear the joyous plucks of the orchestra—their tune like a taunting, teasing chant.

“Please,” Mr. Andrews continues, his voice breathy. “Tell only who you must. I don’t want to be responsible for a panic. And get to a boat, quickly. Don’t. Wait.”

There aren’t enough. Not even enough by half.

 “You…remember what I told you about the boats?”

Dunes of sand coat the broken hardwood floors, thrown up when the boat hit the bottom. It's studded with forgotten objects. A pair of shoes, huddled together. The broken, pale mask of a doll's face. A silver-topped cane leaning in a doorway, perfectly, spookily balanced, as if at any second its owner will stroll by to reclaim it. Marley's hands automatically go to her pocket for her camera.

“Yes.” Marley responds. “I understand.”

"People walked here," says Uncle Brock, raising his voice slightly, like he's telling a story. "They danced there. Talked over there. Here's where they laughed and sneezed and played and snapped their fingers." Shards of china mix with shards of crystal. Women's jewelry and men's hats lie haphazardly on rotting staircases. Now they belong to the nests of black, oily eels and fluorescent fish. Marley looks at the destroyed finery in awe. It's all so... sad. "There's where they sang and cried and told bad jokes and threw things and screamed. People died here."