Chapter Text
"There is, you know."
"No there isn't."
"And why not?" Lowe asked his companion somewhat challengingly, but in the good-natured way common between friends. "This is a royal steamer with permission to carry mail. Why wouldn't that include parcels from the most exotic corners of the world?"
Moody side eyed him as he rested his arms on the railing of the bridge wing.
"Harry, there is no mummy on board Titanic," he replied with the air of someone who knew he was absolutely correct in his assertion.
A bit presumptuous in Lowe's opinion.
He matched Moody's stance, stepping onto the observation platform and resting his own arms on the warm wooden railing beside the other man. The sea breeze was fresh and salty as Titanic sailed along at a good clip across the Atlantic Ocean.
"Again, I ask why not? Why couldn't there be a mummy down there?" Lowe asked him. "We have some of the richest passengers in the world on board, or so I have heard, so it wouldn't be inconceivable that they might be shipping treasures to America, now would it? Surely you had seen that Motorcar they loaded on board that last day at Southampton?" Lowe pressed his fellow junior officer with a wide grin.
"How could I have not, what with how Mister Murdoch was going on about it." Moody replied with a slight grin of his own. Murdoch's fascination with Motorcars was well known to all by then.
"Well, there you have it!" Lowe said triumphantly. "Already one treasure aboard, why not more! Just think! One of those crates that were loaded down below could contain an actual ancient mummy from the land of the pharaohs. Can't you just imagine it? It's even rumored to be cursed! Why, I…,"
"Here now," Moody interrupted him. He turned to face him, one hand still on the rail, the other now placed on his hip. "What has made you so cock fire sure there is a mummy?" he asked. "Where did you hear such a thing?"
"Sparks told me," Lowe revealed. "Said a passenger mentioned it in a telegram. He found it so queer that he remembered it and told me about it when I came in to relay a message from the Captain," Lowe explained.
"What else did this message say?" Moody prompted, clearly still unconvinced. "Did it specifically mention there was one on board?"
"I can't really say as I was not privy to the actual telegram, being a personal communication, but Sparks did speak of a wealthy passenger's name in conjunction with it, one that to him, seemed to validate such a claim," Lowe replied as he fiddled with a button on his coat sleeve.
"What was this passenger's name?" Moody questioned him, becoming more interested despite himself. He took his hand off his hip and replaced it on the railing, mirroring Lowe's posture, the two of them now stood shoulder to shoulder, heads bowed towards each other in a conspiratorial manner.
"Stead, I believe," Lowe revealed after a moment's contemplation. He looked up towards the blue sky as he tried to recall the rest of the name. "With the initials W and T."
He was startled when Moody let out a scoff beside him. He looked over at him quizzically.
"What?" he asked defensively. Surely he had gotten the initials right.
"W. T. Stead?" Moody prompted him. When Lowe just looked at him, he elaborated. "William T. Stead?"
This time Lowe shrugged his shoulders a bit dramatically, lifted his brows and shook his head slightly, clearly indicating that Moody get on with his point.
"Stead, the journalist? Surely you have heard of him?" Moody said as he gestured with a hand. "I would have thought you would have, with how much you like to read."
"Well, I can't remember every author, now can I?" Lowe tossed back. "And what about this one has you scoffing so?"
"He's a sensationalist, Harry. A believer in spirituality and the macabre. He makes a living on such outrageous claims. I have read an article or two from him before. You should take what he says with a grain of salt, old boy," Moody told him. "If that is the source of your claim there is a mummy on board, then I am less inclined to believe it now than I was just a moment ago."
"Well then, what would make you believe it?" Lowe retorted, feeling a bit disheartened that James was apparently poo-pooing his exciting discovery.
"An actual mummy," Moody told him in a tone that implied that it should have been obvious. So did his expression. "Besides, weren't you already down in the cargo hold? Did you see a mummy down there?"
Lowe bristled.
"I didn't go down there to look for a mummy, and if you recall, the lights went out on me. And that was before we started taking on passengers and their luggage. Nothing but supplies down there at the time," Lowe explained with a finger point down to the well deck and the covered hatches of the cargo holds.
"Oh yes, so it was," Moody replied airily.
"All right then," Lowe announced as he stood up straight and faced the Sixth Officer, lifting his chin in challenge. "What say we go down and see for ourselves?"
Moody scoffed again.
"I'm not traipsing around those huge cargo holds, packed to the ceiling with Lord knows what all, just to satisfy your curiosity about a possible mummy on board," Moody told him firmly.
"You mean to tell me you aren't curious also?" Lowe tossed back at him.
"Not in the slightest," Moody replied.
"I think you are afraid," Lowe teased, one corner of his mouth turned up in a grin.
"And I think that saltwater you fell into yesterday has finally reached your brain," Moody immediately countered.
"Hey now! You said you would never mention that again!" Lowe accused him with an exaggerated look of betrayal on his comely face.
"I lied," Moody said, his grin growing into a full smile, his blue eyes twinkling mischievously.
Lowe opened his mouth to respond, but it was another voice that spoke.
"Here now you two; what are you lot going on about over here?" Chief Officer Wilde asked, as he stood on the bridge wing behind them, hands clasped behind his back.
Both junior officers jumped in startled surprise. For a man of such bulk, Henry Tingle Wilde could move as silently as a burglar if he so wished.
"Oh! It was nothing, sir!" Lowe quickly said as he stepped off the platform and down onto the deck proper.
"Didn't sound like nothing to me," Wilde replied as he looked over his two officers.
"It was about a mummy, sir," Moody supplied as he too stepped off the platform.
Lowe shot him a look.
"A mummy?" Wilde asked slowly, perplexed. Clearly he hadn't expected that.
"Yes, sir," Moody answered, ignoring the increasingly pointed looks Lowe was throwing at him. "Harry here was telling me heard there is an Egyptian mummy on board, if you can believe such a thing," he explained with a light laugh.
Lowe felt compelled to defend himself when Wilde's interested gaze turned towards him.
"Yes, well…it was just a rumor…," Lowe trailed off, not really understanding why he was so suddenly nervous.
"That's not what you were saying before," Moody pointed out. "You said…,"
"Never mind what I said," Lowe interrupted him. "You didn't believe it anyway."
"What's this about a mummy? What are you two going on about?" Wilde interrupted their potential spat with a raised hand. He looked to Lowe and pointed a finger at him. "Who put such an idea into your head?"
"I…well, heard it from Sparks, I mean Phillips, sir," Lowe explained. "A passenger's telegram mentioned it and he shared it with me. I admit that it piqued my interest that we could have such an exotic item on board."
"Have you an interest in such things?" Wilde asked him mildly, without censure. It was as if he was genuinely curious.
"In Egyptian relics? Oh, I'd say yes, but no more so than any other Englishman would, I suppose," he revealed. "I've never been, but I've read much about ancient Egypt and have been to the Egyptian hall in the British museum."
Lowe spared a moment to wonder exactly when he had become such a chatterbox whenever Wilde would ask him about himself. He was normally more reserved and kept such personal revelations about himself and his past close to his chest. But not recently, not with these men. Most of all, not with Wilde. The older officer had taken to him, had taken him under his wing, and his questions about Lowe, though never prying, were always asked out of genuine curiosity. Lowe supposed that may have been the reason he felt so compelled to answer those questions. Mister Wilde seemed truly interested.
"I've been there myself, with the children," Wilde replied with a nod. "I can understand the fascination. Now, while I agree it's not out of the realm of possibility," he continued with a raised brow aimed at both of them. "I can assure you that there is no such artefact on board Titanic. At least stored in the cargo holds at any rate. I've seen the manifest."
"What did I tell you?" Moody interjected with a friendly smack of a hand against Lowe's chest. "Now you have no need to go searching down there amongst all those dirty crates…,"
"What's this now?" Wilde interrupted before Lowe could tell Moody to shut his flapping gums.
Lowe could see Wilde's genial expression begin to morph into one of stern disproval. A look that always sent a tingle of trepidation down Lowe's spine when it appeared to be directed at him. Even more so now that Wilde had taken such an interest in Lowe's behavior. Or more accurately, his misbehavior, as he would label it. But Lowe had no reason to be nervous now as he hadn't done anything wrong! In fact, he had been on his best behavior since yesterday when he had chased that bloody dog all around the bloody ship and ended the chase with a thorough dunking in the swimming pool. Wilde's response to all of it had been less than pleased, and Lowe was in no hurry to provoke a similar response so soon. Or ever to be more precise.
"Harry had been trying to convince me to go searching for this cursed mummy…," Moody began.
"James…,"
"It's cursed now?" Wilde asked in disbelief as both his eyebrows disappeared under his cap.
"That's what he was saying," Moody said with a gesture towards Lowe.
"Honestly man!" Lowe complained loudly at the younger officer, holding up both hands as if he simply couldn't believe Moody was so determined to make him look an absolute loon in front of their senior officer. He heard Wilde chuckle, and he turned back to the larger man to see him smiling at him. Moody soon joined in with his own quiet chuckle, and Lowe realized then that they were teasing him.
"You two are just terrible," Lowe complained as he straightened up to his fullest height and held his chin high as if he was above them both. "All right, have your go at me," he said archly with a wave of his hand.
He wasn't actually angry, or any such negative emotion, and his words were said in jest, in the manner of good-natured acceptance at being made the butt of a joke amongst friends. It was a welcome change in his opinion, to how he would have reacted before, even only a month or so ago. Back then he would have been quick to anger and would have taken the gentle teasing as a slight against him. But not now. Somehow, he had started to get to know his fellow officers, little by little, and he was finding that he rather liked them. And oddly enough, they seemed to like him in return.
"Sorry, lad," Wilde chuckled. "Couldn't resist."
"Same, old boy, but you do make it so easy, going on about some mummy," Moody added.
"You two won't be so insufferably smug if it turns out I'm right," Lowe pointed out to them.
"Boyo, I have already told you, there is no mummy." Wilde's smiling face took on a more serious countenance, though not as severe as if he was actually cross with them. "Now you two listen closely," he began as he speared them both with his gaze. He raised one finger and pointed it at them. "You've had your fun now, but there will be no more talk of such nonsense, especially where a passenger may overhear. We've had enough negative press this voyage to fill a whole newspaper. As I said before, there is no mummy on board Titanic. I have seen the manifest, and I assure you that I would have noticed such an item. And I don't want to hear that either of you went and gone looking for it. Do you understand?" He spoke firmly, his eyes darting between the two of them.
Noting the change in tone, both young men understood this was an order without it being specifically stated, and they both nodded their heads in acknowledgement.
"Yes, sir."
"Aye, sir."
"Good," Wilde said as he lowered his finger. "Neither of you have business in the cargo holds anyway, and it's best that you quit such ideas and set your minds to your duties. Speaking of, you should get back to yours, Mister Moody," he instructed with a dip of his head.
"Very good, sir," Moody replied, and gave them both a nod as he walked around Wilde and back towards the wheelhouse, undoubtedly to check the compass heading.
"As for you," Wilde began as he turned his full attention on his Fifth Officer.
Lowe could feel that nervousness welling up inside him again.
"Sir?" he asked in question, hoping that nervousness wasn't coming through.
If it was, it may have been to his benefit, as Wilde's face softened just a bit.
"It's ten past noon. Meaning ten past the end of your watch. I suggest you go and get some lunch, then rest up in your cabin. You haven't nearly made up for the sleep you have lost, and I do not want a repeat of yesterday," he said sternly, raising a knowing brow at him.
Lowe couldn't help the grimace that overcame him as he recalled the chaos of yesterday. Stewards and crew were still talking about it.
"Yes, sir. I shall do so right away. If you will excuse me?" he said politely as he made to take his leave.
He was just abreast of Wilde when the lager man held out a hand and laid it lightly across Lowe's stomach, forcing the younger officer to a stop. He looked up at him quizzically.
"Obey me now, Harry," he said lowly, with tremendous authority. "You are not to go down to the cargo holds, any of them, without an order from a senior. I remember what happened the last time, and I do not want a repeat of that either. Understood?" His tone was one that was not to be disobeyed.
Lowe did understand, though he felt Wilde's concern unfounded. The last time he had been down in the cargo hold, he had been sent to retrieve something for the Captain. But when he had gotten halfway down the steps, the bloody lights had gone out on him and he had missed the last step, injuring his ankle.
"Yes, sir," he dutifully supplied. "But…I'm sure the guarantee group fixed the issue with the lights down there," he felt compelled to add.
"No doubt they have, but you are still not to go down there, especially to search for some non-existent mummy. I won't be repeating myself, Mister Lowe."
Lowe gulped and lowered his eyes. That was a warning if he ever heard one.
"No, sir. There will be no need," he assured him, shifting nervously on the spot, eager to end this uncomfortable conversation.
"Good, lad," Wilde said approvingly, his hand on Lowe's stomach giving it an affectionate pat. "Go on, off to the mess with you," he added with a smile and a flip of his head behind him.
"Aye, sir," Lowe respectfully answered. He stepped around him and took his leave, heading down the Officers' promenade to the gate that separated it from the first-class promenade.
Wilde is probably right, he thought to himself as he walked down the deck. I should just drop the whole ridiculous idea. So what if there was a mummy down in the cargo hold? He'd probably not even be able to locate it if he tried. And if he did, surely it would be crated up, wouldn't it? There would be nothing to see, so what would even be the point?
But it would prove him right.
"Stop it," he scolded himself under his breath as he opened the gate and stepped through. "That's the sort of thinking that gets you in trouble," he reminded himself.
He should just put it out of his head, like Wilde said. Besides, he was ordered to stay out of the cargo holds.
"So that's that then," he sighed to himself.
He looked at the well-dressed passengers he passed on his way to the officers' mess, nodding politely at those who bothered to acknowledge him. He found himself wondering if one of them could be this William T. Stead, the man that could probably answer the question of if there was a mummy on board or not without Lowe ever having to step foot in the cargo hold. But that idea was just as fantastical as the mummy itself. There were hundreds of first-class passengers, and he was discouraged by the White Star Line from interacting with any of them, barring what common curtesy and manners might dictate.
"Still, wouldn't it be so deliciously vindicating to prove James wrong?" Lowe chuckled to himself.
Yes, yes it would.