This will eventually be part of a collection, but I wanted to share it with you all now. Enjoy this short story about the cat said to be aboard Titanic's maiden--and only--voyage.
Jenny knew when bad things were going to happen.
She didn't think this was a strange thing, it had just always been that way. Once, she knew a carriage was coming down Ivernoe Street, right where she'd been sleeping, and she woke up just in time to scurry away. She also knew when all the people were rioting because the coal mines were shutting down. People were usually nice to her and her kind, but not on that day. On that day, she was smart to stay way from tramping and kicking feet.
Knowing bad things were going to happen was how Jenny knew the unsinkable ship would in fact, sink.
She'd been brought over from the Olympic as a mouser. It was a simple job, one that paid well—all the mice she could toy with and eat. At first she'd been upset that they moved her off the ship. But that was only because they were giving her an even better ship. Olympic's sister, Titanic.
They brought her over the week before the ship's scheduled arrival in Southampton. Didn't they know she was pregnant? That slowed her down quite a bit, but she could still do the job. She'd have to be more vigilant, craftier, to make up for her slower speed.
The night the ship shuddered and left the Belfast shipyard, Jenny went into labor. She was a young cat—had always heard from her sisters that this made it more difficult to bear kittens. Her mother, after all, had died in childbirth during her second litter. But much to Jenny's joy, amazement, and fear, she gave birth to four beautiful black and white kittens. She could only assume who the father was . . .
While in Southampton, she hid her kittens in one of the unused boiler rooms. For now, it remained empty though she was sure it would become occupied once passengers boarded the ship and the white-bearded man who'd shooed her turned to the open sea. For now, she was content to pile her kitties upon the warmed metal of a broken shovel in the corner. She was hungry—all five of them were—but she'd deal with that later.
On the same day they entered Southampton, she woke to one of the furless crouched next to her. His face was dirty, as were all the other firemen and stokers who worked so deep in the ship's belly. Jenny hissed and bristled, then put herself in front of her kittens, ignoring the pain as four sets of teeth dragged across her swollen teats.
"Hey, girl, it's okay," said the man. "I heard them babies crying. Are you feeding them? You got milk?"
Jenny hissed.
The furless one threw up his hands and took a step back. Then, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a white cloth, stamped with the same star insignia as everything else on this ship. Her nose scrunched as she smelled the meat. It was the most delicious thing she could remember, and instantly her tongue lagged out of her mouth, so desperate to taste the air.
"You want that? They feed us good here. I always got extras." He held out the scrap.
Jenny refused to take the bait. The furless could be cruel. She'd heard stories before, of how they didn't consider cats important.
"I'm Jim," said the man. "Can we be friends?"
Again, Jenny hissed. The furless and cats were rarely friends.
"Okay, I understand," he said. "You've got babies to protect." Then, he tossed the scrap of meat on the dirty ground where it landed just a foot from Jenny and her litter. The man stood—he was surprisingly tall—and walked away.
Once she no longer heard his footsteps, Jenny darted out and snatched the meat in her mouth, then returned to her litter. This was the best thing she'd ever eaten, though the rumble in her belly was hardly picky. She'd eaten plenty of rats, a chicken once, but never this. She didn't know what this savory meat could be. She just knew she wanted more.
***
The furless Jim returned that night. This time, he brought a different meat. Again, she did not know what she was eating, only that it was quite tasty and helped her pass it on to her kittens. The moment Jenny became thirsty, she abandoned her litter and walked around the corner, only to find a tin of water hidden beneath the boiler. Had the man left it? She thought so. Maybe this one wasn't so bad, after all.
The next day, Jim returned with more meat—chicken, although unlike any chicken she'd ever eaten before. Less gristle and fat. When he attempted to pet her, she nervously walked forward, then rose to meet his palm. Jenny loved to be touched, and the man's rough fingers across her head and back reminded her how long it had been. Over and over he ran his hand from her head, all the way to the base of her tail.
Jim stayed until someone said his name, then he quickly stood, dusted off his breeches, and left. Jenny felt happy with this arrangement. The man brought her food and she allowed him to pet her.
***
The next morning was noisy. Jenny guessed the ship was growing more occupied, perhaps not with passengers, but with crewmen and kitchen staff. She knew a little of how ships worked and could tell uniformed furless from those merely passing through. Jenny was about to stretch her legs and take a much-needed break from her kittens when Jim approached. Only this time, he wasn't alone.
"Oh, you finally had them!" said Jenny's old friend, Violet. The cat meowed, long-winded and pure, then bounded away from her kittens, stretching out her back legs as she went. Violet waited patiently for Jenny to arrive, then stroked beneath her chin. Jenny closed her eyes, lost to the bliss.
"Took me a while for her to come around," said Jim.
"Miss Jenny and I have known each other across two ships now. She was with me when we hit the Hawke."
Jenny didn't know what that meant but remembered the night of that awful voyage when the Olympic collided with something that ripped a hole in its hull. Violet had been very busy after that. She was a nurse, after all.
"What shall we call your babies, Miss Jenny?" said Violet, kneeling in the coal dust.
Jenny hadn't thought of it. Most cats didn't give their kittens a name until they were sure they would survive. She wasn't sure if any of hers would make it. Three of them were rather healthy. One was a runt. All could die from one aliment or another.
"Let's see, Jim. Got any ideas?"
"We don't even know if they're boys or girls."
"And too early to tell. Miss Jenny, do you have a litter of boys or girls?"
Jenny meowed, to which Jim said, "Sounds like she said girls." It was impossible to communicate with furless in this way, yet he'd been correct.
Violet pointed to one kitten and said, "That one will be Minnie. I had a cat like that when I was little. Sick a whole lot, and Minnie took care of me."
"Okay, how about . . . Nellie for that one?" Jim pointed to the middle, sleeping kitten. "I never had a cat, but I had horses. Nellie was my favorite."
"I like that. Mabel for that one." Violet ventured closer, then stroked the kitten with her finger. The nurse looked vacant, a tiny smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "If I'd had a babe, that's what it would be named."
Jim seemed to sense her sudden aloofness, then pointed to the runt. "And how about that one?"
Violet screwed her nose up for a moment, then color flooded to her cheeks. She nodded. "She reminds me of this little girl where I grew up. Sickly just like me, but far smaller. Thinner. Her name was Pip."
Jim said, "So Pip, Mabel, Nellie, and Minnie. I like it."
Before Violet could answer, a horn sounded high in the ship—so loud and blaring that the kittens woke with a start, their mewing lost to the overbearing noise. Violet and Jim stood, but not before he pulled out more mystery meat from his pocket and placed it in front of Jenny's shovel.
"Sorry, Miss Jenny. We have to go. Muster for crew briefing." The cat meowed. She did not know what this meant.
***
The next day, Jenny felt her kitties were sleeping soundly enough to check out the upper deck. Most people loved seeing a cat in places where a cat usually wasn't allowed. Some were put off by it. She could recognize the latter almost at once and usually gave them a wide berth. It wasn't hard to climb the decks and walk a guide wire that put her high above the rest.
Before her stretched the city of Southampton. A chill hung in the air, with chimneys belching black smoke in so many places that it culminated into a giant, oppressive cloud above the houses. Jenny had fantastic eyesight, as most cats did, and she was in her prime and could pick out distant shapes easily. For example, the orange and white cat walking along the brick wall by the quay.
Teats full of milk jostled as she walked, meaning she'd just had a litter of kittens, too. Where were they now? Maybe this cat needed a break like Jenny, and she was as curious about the ship as she was about the town. The orange and white cat disappeared between two buildings. Jenny yawned, cleaned herself for an hour, then plodded back down to the deck.
She heard her kittens meowing before she even reached them. The broken shovel was gone. Her kittens were lying atop a pretty white blanket—so white and clean that it hurt Jenny's eyes. Her babies pawed at the material, seeking a teat that would never show. Next to the makeshift bed, a pair of tin bowls. One held milk, the other a pile of meat that she first didn't recognize, but then remembered from when she was very young and both her sisters were alive. She could still see her mother bringing it up from the lake, still flopping to no avail between the cat's jaws. Jenny's heart warmed over the prospects of eating fish.
***
Violet and Jim came throughout the week, although not as often. Jenny knew this would happen, as the busier they became, the less time they had to spend with a cat. They made up for this by providing extra scraps. Often, Jenny left food in the bowl, as she ate until her sides hurt and it became bothersome to lie comfortably while she nursed.
On the morning Titanic was to put its rudder to Southampton, Jenny woke with a start to the ship's blaring horn. She had a nervous, sick feeling in her stomach. It was the same when she narrowly avoided being trampled by a carriage. The same as when she feared being kicked to death by rioters. Only this time, the feeling was so much worse. It nearly caused her physical pain. Something was wrong with this ship. She had to get off. She had to get her kittens to safety.
Moving kittens was a delicate endeavor. She grabbed a sleeping Nellie by the scruff and carried her off. Retracing the same steps as the last time she visited the boat deck, Jenny weaved through passengers and crew alike. She was slow with a kitten in her jaws, the only saving grace that people froze in wonder as they watched a cat carry off a kitten.
From Titanic's boat deck, she traveled down the gangway railing, past many passengers who were waiting to board. All it would take was one sadistic furless to shove her in the water, drowning Nellie and probably her, too.
She stepped foot on Southampton's dirty brick streets, then raced down the alley between the two nearby buildings. When it was silent and vacant of people, she dropped Nellie to give her mouth a break, then sniffed the air. The orange and white cat was near—she could smell her. Jenny picked up Nellie and continued further down the alley, then crept between the narrow slats of a wooden gate. There were goats in a pen, but inside an unused coop, she stumbled upon the cat, feeding a single kitten.
They eyed each other for a moment. This wasn't a challenge. There were no male cats, no territory disputes. This was one mother cat to another.
Jenny flicked her ears and whiskers, communicating with the cat.
Where are the rest of your kittens?
The orange cat replied, They did not make it. They hurt my insides the whole time.
I'm sorry.
Where are the rest of yours?
In the ship. Could you watch this one while I bring the others?
Sure.
Jenny placed Nellie at an unused teat. The little kitten meowed at her mother, but Jenny was already backing away. She had to repeat this process three more times.
By the time she was back on the ship, she was out of breath. The kittens drew so much from her. She grabbed Millie and carried her off. Unlike Nellie, Millie was more active, swinging in her jaws. She hoped the little one would stay still while going down the gangway. Luckily for her, Nellie had first opened her eyes that morning and was amused by the flowery parasols and wide, frilly hats coming up the ramp.
When she reached the orange cat, she found Nellie nursing. It filled Jenny with jealousy and a bit of sadness. There was no time to dwell on it. She dropped Millie next to her sister, then ran off.
Carriages blocked most of the paths back to the ship, but Jenny was not deterred. She hopped over luggage cars, across the backs of horses and over the hoods of automobiles until she could reach the gangway. Her body was taxed. How was she going to make this trip two more times?
Mabel and Pip, neither who could walk on their own, were on their backs, pawing upward, crying out for Jenny. She took time to rest and comfort them both, then when Mabel rolled over, she scooped her up by the scruff. Little Pip's anguished cries didn't follow her long—the boilers were much louder now.
This time, the gangway was clear. Most of the automobiles and carriages had cleared away. A few dock workers remained, lowering large clusters of steamer trunks down into the cargo hatch. Jenny paid little attention, then raced toward the orange cat's hideout.
She was nearly asleep with her nursing kitten and both of Jenny's brood. Her ears flicked and she opened her eyes just in time to see Jenny drop off Mabel.
How many more? I only have so much milk.
Just one. And when I come back, I'll feed my own. Yours too, if you need it.
Okay.
Jenny turned, made it to the alley, then an awful horn tore through the quiet bustle of Southampton. Birds fluttered above. At the mouth of the alley, she looked on with horror as a tugboat pulled Titanic forward. Slow, lumbering, the ship moved at a snail's pace.
But it was moving.
Ignoring the pain in her joints, the fatigue in her muscles, and the lack of breath in her lungs, she burst into a sprint toward the edge of the railing. The gangways were gone, cutting off access to the ship. She meowed, a panicked, pitiful cry, then she paced along the wall. If not for the tugboat captain waving to her, she would've never considered this alternate path.
Jenny jumped the three-foot gap between the quay and the tugboat. She climbed up the side, then run across the roof until she could reach the rope tethering the boat to Titanic. Up top, a trio of sailors tried to stop Jenny but she darted above them, then raced on. Her lungs burned. Her heart ached. She reached Pip, who'd fallen asleep despite this being the first time she'd been without her sisters' body heat.
The momma cat scooped her up, then ran with her. The top deck was so full of people that she found it difficult to weave between their legs. She made it all the way to the end, hopped up on the railing—
—and saw the tugboats falling back. There was nothing around them now but water and the shrinking port of Southampton.
Jenny meowed, the sound muffled since she held fur in her mouth.
She hoped the orange cat would be a good mother.
***
She dropped Pip on the boat deck to rest. When a couple of noisy children noticed and ran over, she quickly picked up the kitten and continued on. She made it to the stairwell between E and F decks and ran into Violet. If cats could cry, Jenny would have. She placed Pip at the nurse's feet and meowed, long and loud.
"Hey, Miss Jenny. I just went to drop off food and discovered you and the babies were gone." Violet knelt and picked up Pip, then placed the kitten against her chest. "Where's the rest of them, love?"
Again, Jenny meowed the most pitiful sound possible.
"You were trying to get them off the ship, weren't you? Can't say I blame you. Jim is gone. He figured you'd already disembarked and took it as a bad omen. He deserted. Can't say I blame him, either. Something about this ship gives me a bad feeling."
Jenny meowed, unsure of anything she talked about.
"C'mon. I have a better place for you. I don't know if your babies made it off the ship, but if they're still here, we'll find them."
Jenny hung her head. She'd never see those babies again.
***
The cat followed Violet and Pip to a part of the ship she'd never been on, but loved the smell, just the same. This room held lots of people, all seated, all eating and talking excitedly about the ship. Unlike Jenny, for most, this was their first voyage across the ocean.
Violet led Jenny around the counter at the edge and into a kitchen where white-garbed staff stared at her with shock and anger.
"Violet, love, what're ye doin'?" said a mustachioed man holding a mixing bowl large enough to be a bed for Jenny. "Can't be havin' no cats in here."
"Charles, it's Jenny."
His face went slack as he bent down and appraised the cat. Jenny had never seen this man before, but could only assume he was with them on Olympic.
"Aye, it is," he said. "But this is Titanic, Violet. She cannot stay here."
"She lost all her kitties but this one," said Violet. "Surely you can hide her. She won't be trouble. I promise."
"You're vouching for cats now, are ya?" He turned his back and approached one of the ovens, then lifted both pans at once and gave them a jiggle. Before Violet could say anything. "Fine, love. We had a couple of mice in here this morning, anyway. Ate plumb through a bag of barley."
"Thank you, Charlie," she said, and then gave him a hug. Charles' face deepened a dark red. Jenny knew nothing of human interactions, but realized Violet was an especially pretty lady. She even told Jenny once that she'd been too pretty for a stewardess and had to dress down just to get the job. All of this was a fleeting memory. Jenny had a temporary home, with Pip.
But she still had that awful, foreboding feeling . . .
***
Charles left her in a nearby storeroom, then came to get her later that day to move to her permanent hiding spot. It was a tiny, empty closet near the kitchen, so it was wonderfully warm. She had bedding—judging by the coal dust on the bottom, she figured Violet had brought it up to her. Each time Charles served a meal—three times a day—he brought Jenny samples.
This furless was so proud of his creations that he often explained what they were each time he made a delivery to the closet. Jenny enjoyed ham and eggs, jacket potatoes, smoked herring, oatmeal and porridge, and something called marmalade that Charles said was sweet but only tasted bland to Jenny. Still, it was a pleasurable experience that she'd never known until Titanic.
Life was good aboard the ship, although Jenny knew something terrible was right around the corner. As she drifted off to sleep a few nights into the voyage, she listened to Pip's purr, longing for such innocent peace. The kitten had just opened her eyes that morning. They were blue drops of ocean, wide and weary, and curious about the world.
***
On the dreadful night, Jenny didn't need her intuition to realize something was very wrong.
In her insulated closet, she didn't hear the impact of the iceberg, only the way it rattled the pipe next to her bed. This wasn't enough to startle Jenny, so she and Pip went right back to sleep.
Later, she could tell by the quiet hum of the ship that they weren't moving. The engines were off. The boilers shut down, dampers closed. her warm shovel all those decks below wouldn't be so warm now. Jenny lifted herself off the bed and gave herself a stretch and a yawn, then considered Pip, who was sleeping soundly.
Gently, she pushed open the closet door. Charles left it open so she could go up to the deck and relieve herself. No one seemed to mind, and if they did, it never made it to Jenny's ears. Right now, the dining saloon was empty and dark, but that was normal after everyone got off to bed.
She pawed her way up to the deck, knowing she needed to watch for the odd passenger who preferred the peaceful, yet cold solitude. Tonight, the decks were full of people. Normally Jenny could distinguish between crew and passengers. She found it difficult since they were all wearing the same boxy vests over their clothes.
At once, she felt a ripple of panic across the deck. Raised voices, scared faces. Sleepy children burrowed beneath their parents' arms. What was happening?
Jenny bounded across the deck—no one paid any attention to her. It was as if she weren't even there, so occupied with each other and the furless wearing rigid officer hats.
The more she walked, the more she could tell something felt weird about the ship. Like she was sliding downhill, just like those days before the Olympic when she had to walk down a muddy embankment. Jenny hopped onto the railing and looked at the black water below, and the perfectly round balls of light reflecting from the portholes. It didn't take a furless brain to understand what was happening.
The ship was sinking. She'd seen this before. The way the crew lowered lifeboats into the water. The way the passengers panicked and pushed each other to reach safety. The way all hope left their faces, as they knew icy water was coming higher and higher. Jenny froze, feeling lost, feeling overwhelmed. Then she remembered Pip and she raced away, heading back down into the ship.
Pip was stirring now that Jenny's heat had been absent for so long. She licked the kitten and routed an attempt to nurse. There was no time for that now. She had to go where the people were going, and hoped they would allow her.
With kitten in mouth, Jenny trotted back up the steps, only now a metal gate had been pulled across to block the exit. A few people lingered, as if hoping someone would come help them. If no one was helping the people, they likely wouldn't help her. Then again, Jenny realized she had only survived this long because of the kindness of the furless.
Jenny retreated further into the ship. Terrible groans came from all around. Was it the twisting of metal? The snapping of wood? She surely hoped not. It sounded like the whole of Titanic was about to break like a stick. There were only a few people down below, as almost everyone had assembled up on deck, ready to be lowered in the boats. She took one wrong turn and felt an inch of frigid water on her paws. The lower part of the ship had already flooded.
She bounded across discarded luggage and overturned carts until finally she reached a tiled stairwell with water down below and hopefully rescue up above. Pip was getting heavy, her jaw getting tired. The kitten wanted down and she was finally getting enough energy to make it known. Jenny wished to stop and plead with the baby, but time was running out.
A small horde of rats ran alongside her, having more fear of the encroaching water than the cat with a kitten in her mouth. Jenny followed them until they veered into a vent too narrow for her to take Pip. She continued down the hall, then found another set of steps that, judging by the rush of frigid air, meant she would be outside.
If there was any question the ship was sinking, it was confirmed now by the way the stern rose steeply into the air.
A few lifeboats were already in the water. Jenny hopped onto the railing and looked down. It was awful to see. So many people abandoning their things. Sometimes, even their loved ones. Jenny may have only been a cat, but even she knew there were far too many people left on deck to fill the remaining boats.
She circled the upper deck, unsure of what to do. Maybe someone would see a desperate cat with a kitten in her mouth and take pity. She was fully at the whims and mercy of the furless.
Jenny grew tired of holding Pip, so she sat down just outside the gymnasium and placed the kitten down. Immediately, Pip wailed, for the deck was icy cold and it brought a shiver to the little kitten.
I'm sorry, said Jenny with ear flicks and whisker twitches. She figured the baby was too young to understand her, but with whom else could Jenny talk?
The little kitten meowed, painfully incomplete because the icy wind stole half of it.
Your sisters are probably okay.
Meow.
They have a new mommy. A better mommy. One who will take care of them.
Meow.
It's not much, but little one, I tried. I really tried. Please forgive me.
Another meow, but this one wasn't the halfhearted one. This one seemed borne of surprise.
Or maybe just recognition.
"Miss Jenny!" said a wonderfully close voice behind her.
Jenny hopped up on her paws and rubbed her nose against Violet's cold cheek. She purred, fast and steady, like the engines below them had they still been running.
"C'mon, we have to get you in a boat before they're all gone."
Violet stooped and lifted Pip, then placed her in a pocket beneath the boxy white vest.
Until then, Jenny didn't realize how cold she'd become. It wasn't until she was burrowed tightly against Violet's chest that she felt herself shaking.
Since Jenny's face was buried in Violet's shoulder, she missed a lot of what was happening. People were scared, their cries of desperation reaching new crescendos as the night wore on. Jenny felt so safe in her arms that she could've fallen asleep, if not for Pip. Also because of the rockets that fired over and over, lighting up Jenny's peripheral with blinding white light.
Eventually, a furless very close to Jenny's ear, said, "This way, miss, This way . . . Oh, Violet, good to see you, love. Right in here, right in. It's packed but better than staying here."
"Thank you, James," she said.
A moment later, Jenny felt the world lurching. She chanced a look toward the cold night air and found herself surrounded by many other furless, all seated in the same lifeboat. Jenny meowed quietly, weakly.
"Shhh," said Violet. "Pip's right here. She's warm. She's sleeping."
Jenny burrowed her face against Violet again and nearly fell asleep while the officers lowered the boat into the water. They rowed away from Titanic, listening to the ship break apart, to the screams of those unfortunate enough to remain onboard.
Later, a colossal boom followed by more screams. This noise couldn't be ignored and when Jenny looked back to the distant, now horribly dark shape of the ship, she found half of it missing, already having slipped beneath the icy water. Those in the boat were quiet, aside from a few sniffles and cries, as the ship turned straight up, then sank with the rest of it.
Jenny meowed, weakly because exhaustion was pulling her under.
Violet stroked her head, and someone, maybe Violet, maybe not, began to hum. Jenny closed her eyes and shut out the world, and longed for another warm bed, curled up with Pip and the kittens she left behind.
If you'd like to read my full horror novel set on Titanic, Blood & Salt, click here.
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