By the Light of the Silvery Moon Read Online Free Page A

promenade deck, walking in step with the orchestra playing festive ragtime tunes that welcomed those who continued to board.
    He’d seen the advertisements—T ITANIC , S HIP OF D REAMS . To him it wasn’t the ship that was so impressive but the fact he was on it. Being gifted the ticket was his first piece of good luck in years, and that was why he’d decided to risk walking the decks. The more he thought about hiding away, the more he felt drawn to walk boldly in his borrowed clothes. No one here would know him. From the moment he stepped out of his room, clean and shaven, he had presented himself as if the last two years on the streets hadn’t happened.
    He straightened his shoulders and lifted his chin slightly higher. Many people looked his way, and with each glance he battled the urge to look away. He wasn’t used to people looking at him, smiling. Over the last two years, most had ignored him or had looked the other way. Some had even paused their steps, turned, and walked the other direction if he was in their path. It was amazing what a bath, haircut, and a shave could do. He ran a hand down the smooth skin of his cheek, thankful that a shaving kit and scissors had been packed in the suitcase.
    Quentin didn’t see the woman anywhere, so instead he turned his attention to an arriving boat in the harbor. As he watched, a long line of people departed the luxury boat ferry and boarded the
Titanic.
Color drained from his face as he recognized many in the group—Isidor Straus, owner of Macy’s department store and former congressman of New York, and his wife, Ida. Major Archibald Butt, military aid to President Taft, and Colonel Archibald Gracie. Each of them Quentin had dined with, knew personally, not just as figureheads. Of course, that had been then—in his old life.
    As more of the world’s wealthiest men and women boarded the
Titanic,
Quentin stepped into the shadows. Even though he knew none of them could recognize him at this distance, he didn’t want to take the chance. Of course, even if they thought he looked familiar, they would never expect him in these handmade clothes or on the second-class deck. They’d expect him to be in first class, mingling and strolling the decks with a beautiful woman on his arm. Here, now, the only beautiful woman he cared about was his angel of mercy, and she’d seen him at his worst.
    He lowered his head as he imagined what she thought of him—his ragged attire, his unkempt hair, his stench. She was thoughtful enough to provide him with passage, and perhaps she would sit with him at a meal—as she’d written in the note—but he knew nothing would come of it beyond that. Why would someone so wonderful and kind be attracted to a man who couldn’t even provide a roof over his own head or bread for his table? A man who’d tried to sneak onto the ship and had been dragged off in shame. She wouldn’t be interested, and that was that.
    A fellow second-class passenger, who looked to be in his mid-twenties, approached, gripping Quentin’s arm as if coming upon an old friend. “Sir, you wouldn’t believe my luck. I was ticketed for the
Olympic,
but because of the coal workers’ strike, my ship was canceled and I was transferred here. My ma breathed a sigh of relief. She’d been worried about the dangers of crossing the ocean but was pleased when I told her I’d be on the
Titanic.
This ship, they say, is unsinkable.”
    Unsinkable.
That’s what he’d thought about his life up until two years ago.
    Quentin blew out a slow breath. It was easy to make claims, to have a vision, but few things were as perfect as they seemed. “I’m not sure any ship is unsinkable.”
    The man cocked an eyebrow. “Yes, well, let’s not test that. I’m excited to get to America again.”
    “Again?” Quentin asked.
    “My sister and I visited America six years ago. She stayed, so I visited her three years later. She’s living in Minnesota now. It’s there I have a job as a horse