A Gust of Tragedy 

Anthony Brown

Madeline Garner stood in the port of Marseille, holding a flat tan hat on her head. The wind whistled through the docks. She stood in front of her parents, a small brown suitcase in hand. “Mother I will be fine. Me and Henri are married now; he’ll watch for me.” 

Her mother sighed and fretted over the creases in her daughter’s skirt. “Oh, I know. You went and married yourself a captain, I don’t know why I ever expected you to stay.” Her mother sighed and looked at her daughter. “Constantinople? You’ll send a letter once the ship arrives there?” 

Madeline nodded. “Of course, and a gift if Henri will let me. And we’ll be back on the ship two weeks after that. You won’t even notice I’m gone it’ll be so quick.” She gave her mother a gentle hug and a quick hug to her father.  

“Goodbye father, goodbye mother. Do not fret.” She smiled and waved before quickly heading down the stone stairs to board the ship. She could hear her mother weeping into a handkerchief behind her but paid it no mind. 

She boarded the ship, nodding to the crew members who greeted her. She stopped at one of the men working. “Good morning, the Captain’s quarters?” 

The man smiled. “Ah, Mrs. Garner. Down this hall to the right. Beautiful ship don’t you think? Brand new here this girl, the SS Byzantin. Beautiful name too.” 

Madeline smiled politely. “Right, yes beautiful ship, thank you.” She gently brushed past the man and walked to the right. She found the door with the small silver plate: Captain’s Quarters. She knocked gently. “Henri?” 

The door swung open to her blonde-haired husband, who beamed. “My beautiful wife, I nearly thought you forgot about our trip.” He took her suitcase from her hand and set it on the chair in front of his desk. “Come in, get comfortable.”  

Madeline smiled and followed her husband into the small room. “I ought to feel like a princess, the only passenger with access to a cabin.” She smiled when her husband laughed. “The trip looks nice?” 

Henri sighed. “There’s a windstorm coming. But we should be able to at least get to the Dardanelles before it really hits. We can anchor there if all goes to waste. I don’t like to waste so much time though.” 

Madeline walked over to her husband and gently fixed the front of his coat. “It will all be fine. We have the best captain I know.” She smiled up at him, and he puffed up a little at her praise. She flattened his collar gently. “How many people are on board today?” 

“260.” Henri answered. 

Madeline hummed. “So that’s 260 friends we will have by the time we reach Constantinople, or my friends rather. You’ll be taking care of all the technical things.” She smiled up at her husband, and he smiled back at her. 

Henri nodded. “Well, I must get to it. So, friend away love.” He kissed the top of her head. 

Madeline stood on the top deck of the ship, near the bow. Most of the passengers had gathered there, muttering and holding the rails of the deck, if they could reach them. The wind was whistling through the ship in bursts of air that pushed everyone around, even the largest men. Women were holding their children desperately, stumbling and leaning against the rails as another gust sent the boat tipping all the way to one side, and back again. 

A man stumbled from the spot he was standing, into the railing next to Madeline. He gave her a meek smile. “Well, this is a pleasant trip, isn’t it?” He said, yelling out over the wind, his accent lost into the breeze and dissipating into the air.  

Madeline nearly laughed, the wind making her skirt wrap around her legs and nearly tripping her. She used a hand to push her hair out of her face, only for it to blow right back into it. “Quite.” She yelled back at him. “We’re almost to the Dardanelles, we’ll anchor there.” 

The man laughed. “How do you have this secret knowledge? The captain has been powering through this storm for days.” He yelled, but the end of his statement got whipped away by the wind.  

She shook her head. “My husband is the captain.” She yelled back. 

The ship had turned enough to see the shore getting closer. They were heading in, thank goodness. Madeline took a breath of relief that her husband had decided to dock after all. She turned her head away from the ocean behind her, to get a gust of wind to the face. She squinted out at the passengers. Young girls clutched their mothers’ legs, only to fall and get picked back up. People yelled over the wind; a young boy was wailing. His mouth open, his eyes closed tight, screaming so loudly his noise rivaled the noise the storm created.  

“We’re too close.” The man next to her suddenly said. He wasn’t yelling, but Madeline heard it faintly. She turned her head to realize they were coasting towards another ship. Their bow bent towards the other, slamming to the left with a wave, and slamming all the way backwards with a second one. 

“We’ll turn.” She said back, yelling. The other ship was larger; there wasn’t a chance that Henri had not seen it. She heard the metal of the anchor, yelling from the crew, she saw it go over the side. They were docking, it would be over soon. Henri could go below deck with her, where she could close her eyes and forget this storm existed in its entirety.  

And then the crash.  

A wave came up on the side, and she watched the whole ship turn diagonally. Their bow slammed right into the front of the other ship. She watched them scrape together, and the impact finally came. The ship lurched to the right with water, and Madeline leaned back against the rail, only for it to suddenly be gone. She stumbled backwards with a frightened gasp falling from her mouth. The wind whipped her backwards. 

The man next to her lunged and caught her waist. He yanked her back onto the deck as the people began to panic and scream, running towards the back to get into lifeboats. He yanked her back onto the center of the bow as the boat began to slowly tilt forward. 

Madeline shook, holding the man’s arm. She looked around at the people now flying around the deck in a panic. She looked around, for the crew, for Henri, but they were nowhere near the front of the boat. 

The man was still holding her when he began to pull her along. She whipped her head around to look towards the front of the ship. Across from them, the crew members of the other ship were scrambling, setting up ropes. The crew and what looked like the captain were yelling over and motioning to them. 

Madeline shook her head. “My husband-” she called over the storm. 

The man shook his head back. “He’ll be helping the crew, we’re getting off.” He picked her up by her waist and walked with large steps towards the other ship. She tried to get away; she had to get to Henri. But he was holding her too tightly, and the wind blowing her hair made it hard to see. She was handed by this stranger to the crew of the other ship, who pulled her on board and herded her towards the center of their deck. One nice woman wrapped a blanket around her. 

The minutes felt like an hour. The yelling, the wind, the screaming, the crying. It all seemed to echo in her head. She stared at the SS Byzantin, watching as the front got lower and lower. The crew was loading people from one bow to another, but she could see people didn’t understand. She stood numbly, clutching her blanket, until the ship she was staring at sunk. She watched the ship dive with a screech under the sea, splintering into pieces as soon as the waves hit. The ship that was supposed to take her to Constantinople, the one that she told her mother would be fine, was under the water. 

As she stared at the dark swirls, she swore she saw the top of a hand reaching up towards the sky, a wedding ring glinting off one of the fingers. And then it was gone. 

The crew of the ship, the Rinaldo, loaded them all into their interior cabin to keep them from the storm. The crewmembers assured everyone that their ship hadn’t sustained any true damage, and wouldn’t join their collider in sinking into the sea. 

Madeline sat bundled on a wooden crate, still gripping the gray blanket, as she looked around at all the people around her. She counted. 94. 

260 passengers. 94 were here. 

She hung her head a little, wiping her hair away from her face. It was soaked, her face was soaked. She was crying, she hadn’t known when she started crying. Or even why she was crying. Was she crying because she was scared? Because her husband was missing? Because she didn’t see that poor crying boy on this ship? Because pure math made her realize how many people they had just lost? 

She shifted when she felt someone sit down next to her. She turned her head. He was back, that man. She looked at him, he was soaked and had a cut on his cheek. His own dark hair slicked back with rain. He turned to look at her. “You got a blanket.” 

Madeline silently moved to offer it to him, but he shook his head. She wrapped it back around herself. “You saved my life.” 

He nodded. “I did.” 

She smiled a little. “I’m Madeline.” 

He smiled back. “I’m William. You’re from France?” 

She nodded. “And you?” 

He shook his head back. “England.” 

She nodded quietly and looked around at all the people once more. Everyone was sitting solemnly, except for some of the children, who in their young bliss seemed content to play with ropes on the cabin floor. “This is a tragedy.” Madeline whispered. 

William nodded. “It is. But one thing good came out of it.” 

She turned her head to look at him confused. “What good thing?” 

William leaned back against the shiplap behind him. “We’re alive. I’m sitting next to a pretty lady, and I’ve always wanted to see the Dardanelles. A little more dangerous than I thought, might have to give it a poor review in the column of the newspaper.” 

Madeline looked in half shock at this man. Was he truly making jokes at a time like this? And complimenting her so idly? She couldn’t help but laugh.  

“Right. We’re alive.” Madeline said quietly.