"I'm sorry ma'am, only women and children," the young sailor said as he held me by the arm, keeping me from stepping into the lifeboat.

"He's my only son!" my mother pleaded. "He's only 14!"

"I'm sorry ma'am, I have my orders," he replied, ordering the lifeboat to be lowered.

My mother started screaming as she held on to my sisters. She tried to climb out, but other women on the boat stopped her.

"Remember your girls!" one of the women in the boat said.

"I love you, Mom!" I shouted, reaching over the rail.

"I'll try to be brave," I said while fighting back the tears.

"I love you, too Michael!" I heard her reply, believing it would be the last time she saw her son.

As the boat hit the water, I could hear my mother's cry.

I felt alone. I felt fear. I felt cold. My teeth were chattering.

"There, there, young man, be brave like the rest of us," an older man said standing next to me. He had just watched his wife and three children lowered into the boat.

"I'm trying sir," I said.

My father died six months before we took a once-in-a-lifetime trip to France. It was mother's way of trying to help us get over his death.

And here I was on the deck of a ship, surrounded by strangers, all of us waiting to die.

The madness was growing by the moment, something I was finding really hard to believe. Less than an hour before, I was in a warm bed, awakened by Mom.

We were calmly told to put our clothes on, and then put life jackets on. I helped Mom dress my sisters.

"Don't worry," we were told. Somebody mentioned something about a propeller being broken.

"They're going to put us in lifeboats just for a little while as a precaution," mother said. "Then they'll let us back into our room."

We found out otherwise as we made our way to the lifeboat. The mighty Titanic we all heard so much about as we were preparing to come home from France had hit an iceberg.

"I thought the Titanic was unsinkable," a wealthy lady said as we were preparing to board the lifeboat.

The look on the young sailor's face as he helped the woman into the boat said otherwise.

He had a look of fear.

Mom noticed it. I noticed it.

Anyone who thought this big ship was unsinkable knew otherwise, now. You could feel the ship tilt a little bit. Water was flooding the decks below.

People were running around, hoping to find space on a lifeboat. Some people were simply jumping overboard, some with deck chairs hoping they would float.

Women were crying as they were saying goodbye to their men.

"Please God, help me!" I cried. "I don't want to die."

I let go of the cold, iron rail as I watched the boat carrying my mother and sisters row off.

I found a spot by a group of musicians, who continued to play despite the sense of doom engulfing everyone around us.

"Psst! Boy, come here!" came a loud whisper.

I thought I was hearing things.

"Psst! Boy come here!"

That time I knew I wasn't hearing things.

I saw a girl about my age motioning for me to come to her and an elderly lady standing next to a door.

"Hurry!" the girl shouted.

I soon as I reached them, the elderly woman grabbed me and pulled me inside the door.

"Quick, let's get these clothes off!" she said to me and the young girl.

"Ma'am?" I shouted, still very much in a state of shock and a state of fear.

"Do you want to live, or do you want to die?" the woman asked.

"Live," I shouted.

"Well, then, we don't have much time," she said. "We're all going to die if we don't hurry!"

She yanked my shirt and my coat off at the same time, popping buttons as she pulled them over my head.

Hurriedly the girl pulled my pants down. I stepped out, leaving me standing only in long underwear, which the woman completely ripped off of me.

It left me shivering naked for a few seconds.

"Hurry Rachel, get the clothes out of the bag," the woman said.

"Yes, Grandmama," the girl said, pulling out wrinkled clothes and a pair of shoes.

I quickly climbed into something my mother and sisters wear under their clothes. I raised my arms up as the woman and the girl called Rachel pulled a dress over me.

The woman then pulled out a scarf and an extra shawl of the one bag she carried. She put the scarf over my head and put the shawl on me. I put on my life jacket back on.

"It will have to do," the woman said. "Now let's see if we can find a lifeboat. And Rachel, we probably need to leave these bags behind. At least there were of some use to us."

We headed in another direction. The woman didn't want the sailor who pulled me out of my mother's lifeboat to recognize me.

She quickly spotted another boat.

There was pushing and shoving going on. We saw a young officer pull a gun on a man.

"Everybody get back or I will shoot!" the young officer said.

"But there is still room on the lifeboat!" another man shouted.

"Are there anymore women and children?" the young officer shouted.

"Yes there are!" the woman shouted. "Me and my two granddaughters!"

"There is just enough room for three more," a sailor helping the officer replied.

"Everybody get back, let the ladies through," said a man in a dark mustache.

"Why thank you, Mr. Astor!" the woman said.

"Ok girls, watch your step," the woman said as we were being helped into the lifeboat.

Some of the women moved to make room for us.

"Okay, girls, I want one of you on my left and the other on my right," the woman said.

"Is everyone now secure?" the young officer asked after we had taken our seats.

All of us nodded.

"Okay, boys, take her down!" the officer commanded the other sailors working the lifeboat crane.

They hurried as best they could, dropping our boat hard onto the water.

"Okay, ladies, grab an oar," a young officer said.

He was the only man on our boat. He was in charge of making sure we rowed to safely.

"Okay, Rachel, you grab a hold," the woman said, turning to the girl.

"And Leah, you, too," she said looking at me. "We've got to pull our weight!"

I gave her a puzzled look.

"Now is not the time to reveal your secret," the woman whispered to me. "As far as anyone on this boat is concerned, your name is Leah Pierpoint, understood?"

I nodded. This woman was the answer to my prayers.

"Do everything I tell you to do," she said.

I nodded again.

"Young lady, are you cold with just that shawl?" a woman facing us asked.

I nodded.

"We were in such a hurry, my sister forgot her coat," Rachel said.

The woman pulled a very expensive fur coat out of her bag.

My "grandmother" took it from her and pulled it over me as I continued to row.

"Thank you, ma'am," I said, stuttering a little bit from the cold.

"You're quite welcome," the woman said. "You girls are doing a very good job of rowing The name's Mary Anderson."

"Thank you, ma'am," Rachel and I said almost at the same time.

"I'm Agnes Pierpoint and these are my granddaughters Rachel and Leah," our "grandmother" said.

"We're twins," Rachel said, winking at me as we rowed.

"Of the Pierpoint Merchandise Company?" Mrs. Anderson asked.

"Yes, the company's been in my late husbands family for generations," my "grandmother" said.

"Oh my God!" another woman screamed, pointing toward the direction of the ship.

We looked to see the great ship Titanic tilting. Suddenly, what seemed like hundreds of ants rushed on to what was left of the deck.

"My God, don't tell me they've been below deck all this time!" Mrs. Pierpont, our "grandmother," said.

"I don't think I see any boats left for them to get on," Mrs. Anderson replied.

"Girls, look away," "grandmother" replied.

Rachel and I did as we were told, both of us weeping.

We were fortunate. Our backs were turned to the ship. The women and children facing us in the lifeboat weren't so lucky. They had a full view of the tragedy that was unfolding.

Some of them covered their eyes. Others bowed their heads to keep from watching.

Unfortunately for all of us, we could hear what was going on. We could hear the cries of hundreds of people as many jumped to their deaths and others fought for what little of their lives they had left.

Amazingly, we could also still hear music. Rachel swore the last song we heard was "Nearer Oh God, to Thee." I wasn't so sure.

Then it dawned on me that I could have, perhaps should have, been among them had it not been for the woman and girl seated to my left.

They risked their own lives to save me.

Suddenly, the sea grew dark. The shouts and cries grew louder.

I heard a woman say the lights had just gone out on the ship.

We heard an explosion.

"Oh my God, oh my God!" Mrs. Anderson shouted. "It's gone! It's gone!"

All we could do was weep.

 
It reminded me a little bit of a time when my father took me to the horse races. People were cheering loudly at the track that day.But this was a little different. Many in the crowd were cheering for joy. Some were shouting out of disgust because their horses lost.

The people we were hearing now were screaming for their very lives. It was horrifying. And it seemed to get louder after the Titanic sank.

"Should we go back after some of them?" a woman on our boat asked the young officer in charge.
"No ma'am, we cannot," he replied. "We don't have enough room. They would swamp us."

Very few on our boat argued with him. Our boat was among the last to be launched. We were packed.

"Alright, I need anyone who has paper or cloth we can burn," the young officer shouted.
"What on earth for?" one of the women in the boat asked.
"We need a torch or two," he said. "We need to get with some of the other boats."

What he said made perfect since. Although the sky was lit up with stars and the sea was calm, there was nothing but darkness around us.We were able to scrounge for some cloth. One woman tied to canes together to make a stick large enough for a torch.

It illuminated the area around us. We saw several lifeboats around us.

Many of them were doing the same as we, building torches.
Some of the boats were not as full as ours, which startled some of us.

There was room on quite a few boats for many of the poor souls in the water.But by now, the cries were growing faint.
One of the officers leading a boat suggested that some of the boats take some of his passengers. He and the other two sailors in his boat would go back to see if there were anyone left alive to rescue.

Yet another boat was a startling sight. It was upside down. All of the men were standing up and rocking from side to side trying to keep the small craft afloat.

"See if we can squeeze together," the young officer asked us. "Maybe we can make room for a couple of more."
We did the best we could. Two women from the boat that was heading back after survivors in the water came into our boat, as did one of the men standing on top of the upside down boat.

"I believe he is one of the men who worked in the boiler room," Grandmama whispered to Rachel and me. "Rachel and I took a tour of the boat with that nice Mr. Andrews and I believe I recognize him."

Shortly after the one boat went back in search of survivors, the screams, what little of them were left, seemed to stop.
Other than the whispering and talking among the lifeboats, and there wasn't much of it, it seemed a weird, quiet calm.

I looked around at the other lifeboats in the water, hoping I would see my mother and my sisters. I did not. Most you could see on the other boats around us were silhouettes.

Rachel and I decided to get into a rowing contest. We outrowed most of the women on are boat, but after a while Rachel started complaining that her arms were hurting.
"Mine, too, Grandmama," I said.

"Ma'am, my sister and I can take over for your girls," a young woman said. She and her sister had not done much rowing since our boat was launched.

"Thank you," Grandmama said. "My babies need their rest. It's time for little girls to get some sleep."

She pulled us both tight to her. I could feel her warmth. Rachel reached out and grabbed my hand. We both tried to sleep.
It wasn't easy. It was cold. And as calm as the ocean was, the rocking of the boat still made it very difficult to rest.
People on board were coughing and sneezing.

"If we survive this," one woman said, "I believe half of us will be sick."
"Don't talk about if!," Grandmama snapped. "We will survive this!"
I had known her for only a few hours, but I could tell she was a remarkable woman. I felt safe with her.
Finally Rachel and I were able to doze off.

*****
"Look there, a light!" a woman shouted.
It woke me and Rachel from very short slumber.
"It's a ship!" Grandmama said. "I told you we were going to be rescued."

It was still far off in the distance.
"It's going to take some time to reach her," the young officer said. "We need to get some people rowing.

Rachel, I and Grandmama were among the first to grab an oar. Most of us were still very tired and weary from the nightmare we were living through, but our spirits were lifted knowing there was a ship to pull us out of the sea.

Some of the women began to sing a song Rachel said she sung in church called "Pull for the Shore."

"Pull for the shore, sailor, pull for the shore!
Heed not the rolling waves, but bend to the oar;
Safe in the life boat, sailor, cling to self no more!
Leave the poor old stranded wreck, and pull for the shore.

Trust in the life boat, sailor, all else will fail,
Stronger the surges dash and fiercer the gale,
Heed not the stormy winds, though loudly they roar;
Watch the “bright and morning Star,” and pull for the shore!"

It was still a long tiring journey that drew us closer to the ship. Night turned into early morning. We could finally make out the faces of the passengers in our lifeboat and a few of the others around us.

I was not the only boy on the boat. There were at least three others, the oldest probably 10.
The only men on the boat were the young, blond-haired officer, and the rough looking, muscled crew member from the boiler room, whose face was still covered with coal.

The women on the boat, all of us really, looked haggared, drained. Many of us were in very much an emotionless state. We were all still very much in a state of shock from what had transpired over the last few hours.

"It's not a very impressive ship," one of the women said in our boat.
"At least it's not resting at the bottom of the Atlantic," another woman replied. "That's good enough for me."

As we pulled beside her we were able to read a sign on the ship that said "R.M.S. Carpathia." I heard a woman say she believed the ship was of the Cunard Line.

Ropes and ladders were used to pull us out of the boat. It was a slow and difficult task. Many of us were afraid we'd fall into the ocean while trying to get from the lifeboat to the ship.

They pulled Grandmama up first, then Rachel and me. I breathed a sigh of relief when a member of the ship's crew grabbed hold of my arm and pulled me aboard.

"Watch your step miss!" he said.
"Thank you kind sir!" I replied.
I had been Leah now for several hours. It no longer seemed strange to be called by a female pronoun.

We were steered to a large room on the ship where cots and blankets awaited us. Many of the blankets, we were told, were donated by the ship's passengers, who were going out of their way to make us feel welcome.

Sadly, we again were divided up by class as we were aboard the Titanic, only this time, things were a little more cramped and the line between first and second class at least, was a bit blurry, which raised the possibility that I could run into my mothers or my sisters. We were traveling second class aboard the Titanic.

This was something Grandmama was keenly aware. She staked out our territory with three cots in a corner of the room and pulled us aside.

"Many of the women aboard this ship have just lost their husbands," she whispered to me and Rachel. "Some have lost sons close to your age. It might not sit well with some of they find our our secret."
We nodded in agreement.

"You must avoid your mother and sisters," she said.
"But that's going to be hard to do," I whispered back. "They're going to think I'm dead."

She understood my concern, but she told me it would be in my best interest to remain Leah Pierpoint while we were aboard the Carpathia, maybe even while we were in New York.

"Once we are safe at home in Philadelphia, I will contact your mother," she said.

She didn't explain it to me then, but not only was she afraid of causing a riot aboard ship, she was also concerned about the reporters hanging around once we arrived in New York looking for any type of tale to tell.

 
I studied Rachel's every move, her mannerisms.

I did my best to imitate her, although I didn't want it to be too noticeable.

She spotted it, though, and it brought her to laughter.

"Are you trying to copy me?" she asked.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to make it obvious," I said. "But I have to learn from somebody."

"I suppose you're right," she said with a smile.

"Suppose she's right about what," Grandmama asked, walking up behind us.

It startled the both of us.

"He-sheee has to learn somewhere how to be...," she dropped off the sentence. "But I think Leah is doing a good job on her own."

"That she is," Grandmama said. "And girls, I don't want you wandering off to far."

"Grandmama, I don't think there's room to wander off too far," I said about the cramp conditions of the Carpathia. "After all, it's not Titanic."

"No it isn't," she said. "But at least we're afloat, so we shouldn't be complaining about it."

She was right. And I didn't mind the correction. And it took only a second for me to realize why she said it.

Just as we were talking, a couple of passengers from Titanic walked by.

"Don't be so hard on her, Aggie," one of the women said. "After all, the poor thing was stuck in her state room sick after you three boarded at Cherbourg.

"That's right Mrs. Brown," Rachel said. "My poor sister just wants to stretch her legs."

The woman, Mrs. Brown, had dinner a couple of times with Grandmama and Rachel after boarding at Cherbourg herself. Her named was Margaret and she was "new money," Rachel said. "And she goes by the plain name of Molly."

Grandmama told her the reason I wasn't present at each of those times was that I was sick. That was to be the story if we ran into anybody who saw them before the iceberg struck.

"But I don't think we'll have to worry about it too much," Grandmama said. "We didn't socialize much on Titanic. And some of the people we were around are now in shock and worried about the fate of loved ones who didn't make it."

That much was truth. Rachel and I witnessed it.

The deck was lined with women waiting on the last boats to be unloaded, hoping their husbands, sons or brothers were among the final survivors. There were very few happy endings.

Many of them continued to wait on deck even after all of the lifeboats had been recovered. There were faint hopes that another ship also picked up survivors.

"I heard a ship called the Californian was also in the area," one woman said. "Maybe they picked up survivors."

A young officer on the Carpathia's crew was smitten by Rachel. He was 20. He told us what turned out to be the truth.

"We haven't heard anything from other ships saying they picked up survivors."

Rachel squeezed my hand as she pointed out three women leaning on the rails who were on their honeymoons on the Titanic. They weren't much older than we were.

"And now they're widows," Rachel said.

They weren't the only ones. The Titanic was known as "The Ship of Dreams." Carpathia would become known as "The Ship of Widows."

"Girls, come here," we heard Grandmama say.

"This is Mrs. Clark," she said. "She is a Caparthia passenger."

"I've got a daughter about your age," she said. "I brought some of her things for you girls to change into."

We grabbed the dresses and undergarments out of her hands quickly.

"Thank you ma'am," we said at the same time, as if we were the twins we were pretending to be.

I wasn't looking at the clothes as girls' clothes. I looked at them as clean clothes, something we hadn't worn since the mad rush to get on to a lifeboat.

"Girls, there is a bucket of water, soap and a sponge in that small room over there," Grandmama said.

She didn't have say anymore. We ran to the door. Once we were both inside, we shut it, stripped out of our clothes and began washing off. It was a bit crude, but we both longed to be clean.

We didn't care about modesty, either. For a few short seconds aboard Titanic, Rachel had already seen me naked. As far as we both were concerned, I was Leah, we were sisters and we wanted to be clean.

It felt nice to put on clean clothes. Mrs. Clark had given us a brush along with the clothes.

"Let me brush your hair," Rachel said. "It's short, so we've got to make it look as much like a girl's style as possible even if we are going to be wearing scarves and hats.

"You're very pretty, don't you think?" she asked, showing me her handiwork with a small mirror.

"Uh huh," I said as we walked out of the small room.

"Now you young ladies look presentable," Grandmama said. "Now it's my turn to freshen up a bit."

We laid on our cots waiting for her to get done. I found out while we were waiting that we actually had a few things in common.

My father died of cancer a few months before our trip. Her parents were killed in a train accident when she was six. Grandmama had raised her.

We were both no strangers to tragedy.

But then she revealed something to me that caught me completely by surprise.

Her parents were not the only ones killed in the train accident. Her twin sister, Leah, was also killed. It sent chills up my spine.

"There have been times when I talk to her, pretending she's here and alive," Rachel said. "It's been a way to keep her real to me. I was really surprised when Grandmama chose to call you Leah."

I wept..."I'm sorry...I mean it's got to be hard on you that she calls me that," I said.

"Actually, I'm glad," she said as she straightened my hat. "Having you here almost seems to bring her back to life."

I smiled.

She then told me what transpired to lead her grandmother to come to my hour of need aboard the Titanic.

"We were sleeping in our beds when one of the stewards came in and woke us up," Rachel said. "Mr. Andrews walked by as we walked out of our state room. He had a serious look on his face. Grandmama asked him what was wrong. He told us the truth."

Grandmama and Rachel walked back into their state rooms. She told Rachel they needed to pack one bag each, with one change of clothes.

"I don't think they'll allow us to carry much more," she told Rachel.

The clothes they gave me were the change of clothes for Rachel. That was what led Grandmama to make the decision to leave the bags altogether.

They were about to board the same lifeboat as my mother and sisters when I was forbidden to get on.

"Her heart broke for you," Rachel said. "So did mine. We sort of adopted you then. We lost Mom, Dad and Leah. We weren't about to lose you."

Just as she finished that sentence, Grandmama walked out of the small room in her change of clothes.

She saw me staring at her with a tear rolling down my cheek.

"What's wrong dear child?" she asked.

"I love you Grandmama," I said.

"I love you, too," she said, kissing me on the cheek.

"When this is over, I hope you don't mind that I'll still consider you my Grandmama," I whispered.

"You better," she replied. "Because you will always be my grandchild. Don't you ever forget that."

"Ladies, come quickly," a woman said after entering the room where several of us were staying.

We walked out to see almost everyone lining the rails.

No one spoke a word, but several people were weeping.

We had reached the spot where hours before the Titanic went down. All that remained were a few deck chairs floating that some of the poor souls who didn't make it had hoped would be their salvation.

Also floating in the water, at least the best that I could tell, was one solitary body.

I later heard one of the Carpathia crewmen saying the currents had carried the rest of them away.

"I think it is best that we now start on our return to New York," I heard Capt. Rostron tell one of his officers.

Then I looked down the rail among the weeping women and saw her.

I tightly gripped Rachel and Grandmama's hands.

"Is that her?" Rachel whispered.

"Uh huh," I whispered, trying to hold back the tears.

Standing with my mother were my young sisters. All three were weeping.

"She will know, in time, my dear child," Grandmama whispered. "She will know, in time."

 

Rachel squeezed my hand when we saw a girl a couple of years younger than we were united with her family.

"You'll be reunited with your mom and sisters, too," Rachel said reassuringly.

I nodded. But I also had to fight back the tears.

The girl told us her name was Ruth when we met her on deck of the Carpathia. I actually recognized her. I saw her a couple of times when we were on the Titanic. Her family, like mine, had been traveling second class.

She didn't recognize me. I mean how could she? Not in a dress, scarf and a hat.

Her parents were missionaries in India. Her little brother got sick, so they decided to move to the States. Her father was too sick to travel, so they left him in India.

She told us she got separated from her mother, younger sister and brother when she went back to get blankets. Like us, she ended up on one of the last lifeboats to leave the ship. In fact, I think ours almost fell on top of hers as they were lowering us into the ocean.

She stayed with a young Polish girl once she got on the Carpathia and was telling us the girl's baby was missing. We found out later the baby was alive and well.

While Ruth was talking to us, a woman came up and asked her her name. The woman told her that her mother had been looking for her.

Rachel held my arm tight when she was told her family was safe.

"I know it reminds you of you and your family," she said.

"I wished I could tell mom," I whispered to her.

But I didn't want my secret to get out. It might stir up trouble.

There was already resentment to a man Grandmama called Mr. Ismay.

"He runs the White Star Line," she told us.

I didn't know what the White Star Line was until she told us that it was the company that owned the Titanic.

"There are lot of people who wished he had gone down with the ship," Rachel said. "I heard a lady mention that that would have been the honorable thing to do."

He supposedly was sick. He was given the doctor's cabin aboard the Carpathia.

"He gets to be in there while we're all crowded into large rooms," I heard a woman say. "He's going to be sleeping in a nice warm bed while all we have are a few cots. And the rest of us are sleeping on the floor."

Hearing the talk about Mr. Ismay had me wondering. I asked Grandmama if staying on the Titanic would have been the honorable thing for me to do, especially considering that me pretending to be a girl was the only thing that saved my life.

"There is a big difference between you and Mr. Ismay," Grandmama said. "He's a grown man, the man who ran the company that owns the ship. You are but 14. You should have never been refused a seat on a lifeboat."

She told me a story about her late husband, John Pierpoint.

"Even though his father was wealthy and could pay for someone to take his son's place, Grandpapa fought in the Great War," she said. "He was a young officer. He told me of a battle they fought called Petersburg. He was walking along and saw a dead boy lying in a trench. He found out the young Johnny Reb was only 14."

He told me "I swear, Aggie, boys that age should not be called to fight a grown man's war. And young boys should not be asked to act like men when a ship is sinking."

She grabbed my hand and told me and Rachel to come with her. As we were walking, she pointed out a Titanic officer who was talking with a member of Carpathia's crew.

I recognized him immediately. He was the officer who would not let me on the boat with my mother and sisters.

"Ask yourself, if you're not supposed to be here, why is he?"

She had a point.

She told me his name was Lightoller.

"After keeping men out of boats, he and a few other members of the crew found a boat themselves and did their best to save their own lives," she said. "And we did our best to save yours. So I don't want to hear anymore of this foolish talk."

"Yes ma'am," was all I could say.

*****

Grandmama was our rock from the moment she saved me on the deck of the Titanic. But like the rest of us, even she had a breaking point on our journey to New York.

Rachel and I noticed her sobbing on her cot.

"Grandmama, what's wrong?" Rachel asked.

"Oh my babies, I just found out some dear friends of mine didn't make it," she said.

Almost from the moment we reached the Carpathia, she knew some of her acquaintances didn't make it.

A man she called "J.J." didn't make it. I found out he was the kind Mr. Astor who helped us aboard our lifeboat.

"Everybody says he was the richest man in the world, and he has left his poor young widow," Rachel said. "But grandma thinks a man named Mr. J.P. Morgan is the richest man. And he was the man people say really owned the Titanic, not the Brits."

But it wasn't Mr. Astor's death that upset Grandmama so much.

"Ida and Isador did not make it," Grandmama said.

"They were an old couple we ate with a couple of times on the Titanic," Rachel said.

"Old people?" Grandmama said. "Ida and Isador were about my age, and your Grandpapa, if he were still living."

Grandmama told us their last name was Straus and they had owned Macy's Department Store.

"We were competitors with them, but they were always a delightful couple," she said. "Your Granpapa and I traveled to many trade shows with them."

"We're sorry, Grandmama," I said.

"Thank you girls," she said. "I'm just so tired. I'm ready to get back to New York."

A few minutes later, a young member of Carpathia's crew walked up to Grandmama.

"We're allowing families to send a short message to loved ones, do you have anyone our wireless man can send a message to?" he said.

Grandmama nodded. He handed her a notepad.

She wrote down an address and the name of a Henry Hobbes.

"Henry, we are safe. Bring plenty of clothes. Book us a hotel for a couple of nights and arrange for travel back home to Philadelphia. Sincerely, Aggie."

"Thank you ma'am," the crew member said. "I'll see that it gets sent as soon as we can."

"Who's Henry Hobbes?" I whispered to Rachel.

"He helps Grandmama run the business," Rachel said. "He helps handle her affairs. I think he has a thing for Grandmama. And boy will he be surprised when he meets you."

*****

We noticed her leaning on the rail of the Carpathia all alone.

Rachel was always pretty bold and felt like we should walk up and talk to her.

She wasn't that much older than us. Grandmama said she was only 18, and pregnant.

I was shocked to find out she was the one Rachel was talking about who was married to Mr. Astor.

She told us how much she missed her husband.

"I'm surprised you girls are talking to me," she said. "Talking to me I'm sure will create a scandal."

She was already one of the most talked about people on what was turning into a ship of gossipers. Maybe not as much as Mr. Ismay, but people still talked about her.

"It may be their way of dealing with the shock and the grief," Grandmama said of the talk.

Having someone to talk to seem to make her feel better. The only people who really talked to her since boarding the Carpathia were her maid and nurse.

She told us her name was Madeleine.

"We're not worried about a scandal," Rachel said.

"Besides, we have a scandal of our own," I whispered.

"Oh, what is that?" Madeleine asked.

"She's really a boy," Rachel said.

Madeleine Astor had a big smile on her face.

"You're too pretty to be a boy," she said. "But don't worry, your secret's safe with me. Besides, I want you girls to come visit with me when this is all over."

We didn't know why we felt compelled to tell her.

"She needed some cheering up," Rachel said.

Maybe it helped her knowing there were others out there who were having a hard time like she was.

 

Rachel and I wept when we saw her, standing tall and green and lit up.

I had seen the Statue of Liberty once before. We passed her on the Mauretania on our way to Europe a month before.

"You know what this means?" she asked me. "A soft bed, clean clothes, warm food and a nice hot bath."

"Maybe trousers?" I whispered to her.

"Maybe not for a little while longer," Grandmama said, overhearing the conversation. "At least we're safe."

The Statue of Liberty wasn't the only thing we noticed. Several boats came up alongside of us.

We suddenly noticed thousands of people lined up along the shoreline. Since we boarded Titanic from a ferry boat at Cherbourg, we weren't there to see the thousands of well-wishers cheering the great ship as she started on her first voyage at Southhampton.

But we heard whispers that the crowd welcoming us to New York Harbor were much larger. Some were family members and friends who were there to comfort survivors.

The vast majority were curiosity seekers there to witness the final part of a great tragedy. Unlike the crowd at Southhampton, they weren't cheering.

It was more of a subdued crowd. It still seemed surreal.

Included in the crowd, as Grandmama feared, were members of the press. Some were on the boats that welcomed us into the harbor. They were shouting questions to us.

"Neither of you dare answer," Grandmama whispered.

We didn't.

A couple of enterprising journalists managed to climb aboard from a tugboat that came alongside of us. But they were immediately caught by members of Carpathia's crew.

"They will be detained until everyone of you is off the ship," Capt. Rostron shouted from his bullhorn.

He cautioned us not to talk to them, that they would take advantage of us just to get a good story.

Trust me, most of us didn't want to talk anyway. We were too tired. We were ready to get off the ship.

There was one more emotional moment before we were allowed off. The Carpathia pulled up to the pier were Titanic was supposed to come to rest after completing her first voyage across the Atlantic.

Many of us cried as Titanic's lifeboats were lowered and placed in the spot reserved for the White Star Line. They were all that remained of the largest ship, the grandest ship in the world.

We were then given instructions not to leave the ship unless someone was there to meet us. Fortunately, there was someone there to meet us.

A black-haired man graying along the sides and wearing brown hat stood on the pier awaiting us. He had a funny mustache. He looked a few years younger that Grandmama.

"That is Henry Hobbes," Rachel said as we walked arm-and-arm off the boat.

I looked out of the corner of my eye and saw another familiar face, my Uncle Walter, who was there to pick up my mother and sisters back to Lancaster, believing his young nephew had perished aboard the Titanic.

I turned away, not wanting him to recognize me, even if he possibly could with me dressed as I was.

It was an amazing contrast from the last time that I saw him. He saw us off on the Mauretania. He and I made fun of mom and my sisters in their fancy dresses.

Now, here I was wearing one, although it wasn't really clean and felt awfully sweaty. It made me realize how some of the Amish girls and women back home in Lancaster County must have felt toiling in the fields and around the house.

Before we were able to make it to Mr. Hobbes, a couple of newspaper reporters forced their way through the crowd to try to talk to Grandmama. There were photographers trying to take our picture.

"Sorry boys, but the girls and I are extremely tired and need our rest," Grandmama said.

"Aggie, you are a sight for sore eyes," Mr. Hobbes said as he opened the door to a green automobile. "And who is this young Lady with you and Miss Rachel?"

"Her name is Leah, and she is going to be staying with us for a while," Grandmama said. "I will fill you in about her when we get inside the automobile. Speaking of which, is this new?"

"Oh yes, ma'am," he replied. "I bought it while you and Miss Rachel were traveling all over Europe."

He made an off-handed joke about the contrast of the last time he saw them. They began their journey with several trunk loads of clothing that had to be loaded up. It took Mr. Hobbes quite a while to instruct the ship's crew members of what to do with it since Grandmama and Rachel were traveling alone.

Then he suddenly realized what happened to those trunk loads as Rachel told him we entered the lifeboat with just the clothes on our backs.

"I'm terribly sorry ladies," he said. "You must forgive me."

"Oh don't worry about it, Henry," Grandmama said as we began our journey to our hotel.

And then she hit Mr. Hobbes with the news about me.

His jaw hung open for several seconds.

"Pardon me, Leah," he said. "I can't believe you're a boy."

I blushed and told him that was ok.

"I'm not exactly sure of that myself these days," I said.

The truth is I wondered when I would return to being just Michael Rinehart, a Pennsylvania Dutch boy from Lancaster. And a part of me wondered when I would stop being Leah Pierpoint, the girl who was rescued from the Titanic.

It was during this course of conversation that Grandmama revealed her plan. There would be people who knew Grandmama only had one surviving granddaughter.

My parents, Grandmama would tell people, were steerage. They died on the Titanic. She made the decision to adopt me as her own granddaughter.

"And for the time being, Leah, is to be treated as a girl," Grandmama said. "She is to be treated no differently as Rachel, she is to be treated as my granddaughter, understood?"

"Understood, Aggie," Mr. Hobbes said.

"And Leah, until I say otherwise, you are a girl, understood?" she said to me.

"Yes ma'am," I said.

She explained the reason why. She was one of the most prominent survivors of the sinking. Newspaper reporters would be hanging around our hotel. They would be following us around town.

"And they will be questioning anybody who is around us," Grandmama said. "That includes hotel maids, doormen, store clerks, waiters."

She only had to remind us of the reporters who greeted us as we got off the Carpathia to prove her point.

"That reminds me, Aggie," Mr. Hobbes said. "Reporters from the New York Times, the Post, the Journal and the Philadelphia Inquirer all want to interview you."

"I will talk to them in the next couple of days," Grandmama said. "But the girls and I need some time to recover. Can you ask them to respect that? I know they won't, but can you ask them, too?

*****

Grandmama thought it a bit ironic that the hotel Henry Hobbes booked for us was the Waldorf-Astoria.

"J.J. was one of the founders of the hotel," she said of the man who was not quite as fortunate as we to survive the sinking.

It was also probably fitting. Grandmama teared up as we traveled by Macy's, which had a wreath on the door in memory of her good friends, Ida and Isador Straus.

Even Mr. Hobbes teared up when Grandmama told him about how both refused to get on a lifeboat, the husband who refused to take a seat while younger men were being refused, and the faithful wife who wanted to remain by his side.

"That is very romantic, and very sad," he said. "You could always tell they loved each other so much."

The hotel fit the mood. It was still owned by the Astor family. Even though Mr. Astor's marriage to young Madeleine had caused ill feelings in his family, he was still beloved by much of the hotel staff.

The fact that many other of Titanic's wealthier survivors were also staying at the hotel contributed to the mood. It also meant the hotel would be a gathering place for reporters.

"I wished now I would have booked us for The Plaza," Mr. Hobbes said. "It's new, but it's nice."

"No, this is fine, Henry," Grandmama said. "We're only going to be here for a few days. When we're completely rested up, we'll head home to Philadelphia."

Our suite was the nicest I'd ever been in, although I'm sure Grandmama and Rachel were quite used to it.

"Girls, you room is in there," Mr. Hobbes said.

We rushed into the room, where several of Rachel's dresses were already hanging up.

We were more interested in the nice, soft bed. We plopped down on it at almost the same time.

"Girls, get off the bed in those filthy clothes," Grandmama said. "It's bath time. I'll bring you a couple of night gowns after you're done. We're staying in the rest of the night. I'll have Henry make sure some food is brought up."

We didn't complain. We looked forward to a nice hot bath, clean clothes and warm food, just as Rachel said when we saw the Statue of Liberty.

 

Our stay in New York lasted a little longer than Grandmama planned.

The U.S. Senate opened hearings on the sinking just a day after we arrived. Because of Grandmama's position, she was among the passengers asked to testify.

She didn't seem to mind, really. She felt it her patriotic duty.

She also gave interviews to the New York and Philadelphia newspapers, so "maybe we can have a little peace," she told Rachel and me.

She wasn't asked about me during the hearing, didn't even bring me up.

She was asked about what she remembered about the sinking, and the conduct of the crew from what she observed.

She also did not tell any of the newspapers about me.

"We don't need to draw attention to you," she said. "We don't want to raise suspicion."

Rachel and I didn't mind the extra days in New York. We ran ol' Henry Hobbes ragged carrying us to museums, the zoo, the art galleries and Central Park.

Rachel really wanted to show me the "Big City" since the only other time I'd been there was to board the Mauretania on the way to Europe.

Each night, Grandmama would read us the latest on the stories coming from the sinking. She was right, almost as much written about the sinking was false, as they reported what was true.

She was also right that they chose to make villians and cowards of some of the people who survived the sinking.

The man most villified was Mr. Ismay.

"I don't really know if he acted honorably, or not," Grandmama said. "But he can't be as awful as he's portrayed. I have the feeling that if he had saved a hundred people that night, people would still hate him because he didn't go down with the ship like poor Captain Smith."

Captain Smith was still the man Grandmama held responsible for the sinking. She told us she heard he had warnings about the ice.

"But the old soul just kept on going," she said. "It wouldn't have hurt us to have stopped one night. But he went down with the ship...so we shouldn't speak ill of him."

But the press wanted someone to blame. If it wasn't Mr. Ismay, it was Capt. Lord of the Californian.

Members of his crew testified in the hearing that they saw the lights of a ship that may have been the Titanic. They also claimed to have seen rockets being fired from the ship about the same time they were fired from the Titanic.

And some of the passengers, including Grandmama and Rachel, said they saw a light coming from what may have been a ship on the horizon before they stumbled across me heading to the lifeboats.

"And people believe that was the Californian," Grandmama said. "They believe the Californian was close enough to have saved us all."

The press didn't stop there. As Grandmama said, they loved a good scandal.

Mrs. Brown, the one we knew as Molly, was portrayed to be a hero. And from what we knew, she was.

But a poor man named Sir Cosmo Duff-Gordan was portrayed as a selfish coward because he and his wife escaped on a lifeboat containing only 11 people.

Rumor had it, he bribed members of the crew on the boat not to go back looking for survivors.

"Whether that's true or not, he may be a ruined man," Grandmama told us.

She didn't tell us about other accounts in the newspapers. She tried to hide them from us.

They were about men who supposedly were able to get on lifeboats because they were dressed as women. Rachel found a couple of the newspapers in the garbage can.

Mr. Ismay was one of the ones who was accused of it, but it turned out to be only a scarf he was given that he wore on his head to keep warm. An Irishman from steerage wore a shawl a caring woman gave him as he rowed, but a crewman identified him as a man who wore women's clothes to get on board a lifeboat.

He disputed that account at the hearing.

"Just think what will happen if they find out about you," Rachel said.

Our final night in New York, Rachel and I dined with Madeleine Astor, who was also staying at the hotel.

She really seemed to enjoy our company.

She told us the Astor family had treated her quite well since she returned. That included her husband's eldest son, who was older than she was, and his mother, who had tried her best before the sinking to have the young girl portrayed as a "gold digger" as Grandmama put it.

She also took particular interest in me, and wanted to know where I was from, and how I liked living as a girl since the sinking.

I told her about our life back in Lancaster County, about the farm my family had before my father died.

I helped him, despite being as scrawny as I was. But when my father died, my mother and I couldn't really make a go of it.

"An Amish family gave mother a good price," I said, "And we moved to town."

It was because of that we had enough money to go on a vacation in France, which my mother always wanted to see.

*****

It was mid-summer when Henry Hobbes journeyed from Philadelphia to Lancaster. Grandmama was surprised to find out my mother worked at a store that did business with her company.

Mr. Hobbes knew my mother's boss, Samuel Hess.

"Henry, it's a surprise to see you," Mr. Hess said when Mr. Hobbes arrived at his store. "I thought everything was fine with our order. We're expecting the furniture here next week."

"Relax, Samuel," Mr. Hobbes replied. "I'm here on personal business for Mrs. Pierpoint."

He was shocked to find out that one of the wealthiest women in Pennsylvania had a matter to discuss with a young, widowed middle class woman struggling to raise two young daughters alone.

"Myra, tell Mary Rhinehart to come up front," Mr. Hess said.

My mother was curious, too, as to why someone the likes of Agnes Pierpoint wanted to talk to her.

"It is about some things that happened on board the Titanic, ma'am," he said. "Mrs. Pierpoint wants you and your girls to come visit her. She will pay for your transportation. She will also compensate you for any missed time at work."

"That will not be necessary, Henry," Mr. Hess said. "Take all of the time you need, Mary. You're my best worker. You won't have to worry about missing pay for taking time off for something like this."

Mr. Hess asked my mother if she knew anything about why Grandmama wanted to see her.

"We were on the Titanic together," my mother said. "But to my knowledge, I've never met her."

*****

I gave Rachel a hug as we sat in the window sill.

"I really don't want you to go," she said, weeping. "But I know you have to. I loved having you here as Leah, but Grandmama says its time you get to living as Michael again, time for you to go back to your family."

I nodded. I had mixed emotions.

I had almost felt like I had said goodbye to being Michael when I changed into Rachel's clothes aboard the Titanic. Now it seemed like I was saying goodbye to Leah as I prepared to return to being Michael.

I mean, I was always Michael. But a part of me would always be Leah, too. Not Leah the child who died in a train wreck, but the Leah I was in the lifeboat, aboard the Carpathia, in New York and in the last few months in Philadelphia.

"You will always be part of this family," Grandmama said. "You can visit Rachel and I as much as you like."

"And I'd like to come to see you in Lancaster, even if you are really a boy," Rachel said.

"I'd like that," I said. "I want to come visit."

Just as I had missed my mother and sisters, I was really beginning to mourn the loss of my relationship to Rachel and Grandmama.

And part of me wasn't really ready to let go to being Leah.

But I changed into the nice suit Henry Hobbes picked out for me and sat in the window sill with Rachel and watched as my mother arrived with my sisters.

I burst into tears. It was the first time I'd seen them since we were aboard the Carpathia. Rachel grabbed a hold of me and wept, too.

*****

Grandmama welcomed my mother into the house and took her to the parlor.

She asked Margarite, her maid, to take my sisters, Sarah and Elizabeth, to the garden while she and my mother talked.

I was upstairs looking at myself in the mirror. I still had the long hair I had grown as Leah, but I was wearing boys' clothes for the first time since that night on the Titanic.

"You're pretty as a girl," Rachel said. "But I also think you're pretty handsome."

I thanked her. And asked her if I could have a few minutes alone. She agreed and went and sat on the top of the stairs. She heard the conversation between Grandmama and my mother.

"Are you telling me my Michael's alive?" I heard my mother say.

Grandmama told her I was waiting upstairs.

My mother was in a state of shock. Then she wept.

"I really, really do not know what to say," she told Grandmama, "but thank you. This may be the happiest day of my life."

Grandmama told her she had Henry Hobbes buy me a trunk load of clothes to replace the ones I had lost aboard the Titanic.

"They were all that he had," my mother said. "He didn't leave anything back in Lancaster."

She was also stunned when Grandmama told her she had set up a trust fund for me.

"Even though we've known him more as Leah, Michael is still very much a part of this family," she said. "And this is a way for him to always know that."

"I'm sure he'll appreciate it," my mother said.

My mother accepted Grandmama's invitation for us all to have dinner together before we headed back to Lancaster aboard a train.

"Rachel, go get Leah...I mean Michael," Grandmama said. "Tell him his mother is downstairs."

Rachel was surprised when she walked back into the bedroom.

I had taken off the suit and had put on my favorite dress. I was in the process of putting makeup on.

"Don't just stand there, sis!" I said. "Give me that bow and help me fix my hair."

"What's going on?" Rachel asked.

"We're staying for dinner, aren't we?" I asked.

"Yes," Rachel replied.

"I want to stay Leah for a few more hours," I said. "I can change when we get ready to go."

Both mother and Grandmama had the look of surprise when I follwed Rachel down the stairs.

"If I didn't recognize your face, I'd swear you couldn't possibly be Michael," mother said as we embraced.

Suddenly, Sarah and Elizabeth came rushing through the door and joined in the embrace.

"Michael sure is pretty, isn't he mommy?" Sarah said.

"He sure is," my mother replied. "He is the prettiest sight I've ever laid my eyes on."

My mother could not believe how Rachel and I got along at the dinner table.

"It's amazing, you'd swear they really are sisters," she whispered to Grandmama.

"Yes you would," Grandmama said. "Having two girls around this house have really been entertaining."

We told mother about our experiences since Grandmama and Rachel rescued me aboard the Titanic.

The mother told us of their experiences, and how hard it was on them after they returned.

"The whole town of Lancaster came out for your funeral...or Michael's funeral, or at least it seemed that way," my mother said. "There is a marker for you in the family graveyard since the body was never recovered."

The mood around the table got very serious. Mother asked to speak to Grandmama in the parlor.

"What's going to happen when people find out Michael's alive?" my mother asked.

"I've thought about that ever since we were aboard the lifeboat," Grandmama said. "I'm sure it will create a big scandal, although hopefully things have died down some. I'm sure this is something Michael will have to deal with the rest of his life. But we will be by his side. And I keep asking myself every day if keeping Michael as Leah for this long was the right thing to do, if it only put off the inevitable."

"Aggie, don't think about that," my mother said. "My child would be dead if you hadn't of done what you did. I'm forever grateful."

My mother then asked Grandmama a big favor.

"We would love to do that," Grandmama said. "But that is something for you and Michael to decide."

*****

Rachel and Grandmama sat quietly in the parlor as my mother and I discussed my predicament.

"I know being Leah is something that is very important for you," she said.

"I know mother," I said. "But it's going to be hard to see you, Sarah and Elizabeth get back aboard the train for Lancaster without me."

"Oh, my darling, Aggie says we can come to visit you anytime we like," she said. "Think about the other people who have been caught up in scandal and branded cowards because they survived Titanic's sinking. I do not want that for you."

That did make my decision a little easier. But mother said it would be my decision to make, and mine alone.

I looked at myself in the mirror.

"I'm really grateful for what people did for poor Michael in Lancaster," I said. "And I haven't been him since that night aboard Titanic, so maybe he really did die. I'm Leah Pierpoint, a Titanic survivor.

April 14, 2012

The view from the deck of the yacht was breathtaking.

A calm sea. She could easily see the stars in the sky, it was so dark.

There was a coolness in the air.

"You know Howard, I could easily imagine it," she told the man who had been her personal assistant not long after settling into a position at Pierpont International after she graduated at the top of her class at Harvard. She was expected to rise quickly in the family business, which she did.

Her brother Michael ran the company. He was the president and CEO.

She was the chief financial officer and carried the title of vice president.

"That was an excellent speech you gave, Ma'am," he said. "Very emotional."

"Oh, I've given it about a thousand times," she said with a slight chuckle.

Truth was, she was the keeper of the flame, the family historian about the tragedy that took place in almost the same spot 100 years before

Her brother Micheal, he spoke about the Titanic to groups, but not nearly as much as she did, and clearly not with as much passion, even though his name was quite linked to family lore. Hers' was, too.

Rachel Maddox-Hughes was the great-granddaughter of Titanic survivor and future company mogul Rachel Pierpont- Maddox. She and her sister, great-great Aunt Leah Pierpont-Morgan, were the two women who were worthy heirs of Agnes Pierpont, the two visionaries made the company a corporate giant.

Other family members, her cousins Rinehart Pierpont Morgan III and Wren Morgan Hamilton, also carried family duties in weaving the Titanic family tale to groups and were also important players in the family business.

But the family's Titanic legacy seemed to rest on her shoulders, a burden she didn't seem to mind.

This voyage she arranged among Titanic enthusiasts, who seemed to be enjoying their trip on the S.S. Pierpont on the 100th anniversary of the ill-fated voyage. She was the ultimate host, having authored two best-selling books on the Titanic sinking and the aftermath.

"Howard, if you don't mind, can you tell the others I won't be joining them," she said. "I just want to spent the next couple of hours with my children, and Pippa."

"As you wish, ma'am," he said departing her personal suite.

Her good friend Pippa Rinehart was the only other person who knew the true family story of what happened that night. She and Rachel were college roommates and best friends. Her great-grandfather was the first cousin to Michael Rinehart, and related by blood to her cousins Wren and Rinehart.

Michael Rinehart's youngest sister died of cancer, leaving two very young sons. Leah and her husband John Morgan adopted them. They were Wren and Rinehart's grandfathers. They both married cousins in the Pierpont family, which united the two families by glood.

"They were extraordinary women," Rachel said to Pippa as they sipped tea in a lounge room where a stately portrait of the three Pierpont women hung, Agnes flanked by her granddaughters, Rachel and Leah. It was painted after the sisters joined the family business after graduating 1-2 in their class at Vassar College.

"You were lucky to have known them," Pippa said.

Both women lived into their 90s. They poured out their knowledge of running the Pierpoint company into their heirs. But Rachel was the one they shared their most intimate tales of the tragic voyage that would change forever two families.

Rachel, in turn, shared the full tale to Pippa, swearing her to keep the secret, which Pippa had. Pippa always had her back, especially after her divorce.

Suddenly, three weary-eyed kids came bounding into the room.

"Oh my God, they've grown!" Pippa said when twins Ryan and Cheyenne and Amber came into the room.

Ryan and Cheyenne were 12. Twins ran in the family. Amber was 10.

"How is Ryan doing with therapy?" Pippa asked Rachel.

"He has done very well," Rachel said. "Really been a trooper at the conferences with other kids, too."

As they sat out on the deck, Rachel read from the diaries of the three Pierpont women.

They looked out into the ocean and saw the other boats, several surrounding the site and participating in the anniversary in their own way.

Rachel at her watch. She looked at Ryan and Cheyenne.

"You've got your clothes picked out?" she asked her eldest children.

They nodded and walked quietly to their room.

They emerged a few minutes later.

"You didn't tell me they were going to wear replica dresses," Pippa whispered to Rachel.

"I told them the full truth about Michael and Leah after we made the decision fro Ryan to transition," Rachel whispered. "The girls were the ones who came up with this idea after they found out we were coming to the site. Great-grandma Rachel and Aunt Leah donated the dresses they wore on the night of the sinking to the company museum in Philly. We found a designer to make replica dresses."

The five women carried roses and threw them into the sea.

"For the lives lost," they said in unison at about 2:15 a.m., the time of the Titanic's sinking.

They then lit two candles on a table on the deck.

"For the lives reborn," they said again as Leah Anne Hughes lit candles for herself and great-great Aunt Leah.