Destiny's Voyage: SS Atlantic, Titanic of 1873

By Robert "Bob" Love

History tells the story in print and film of the greatest sea disaster of a dynamic luxury liner, the RMS Titanic, but history has omitted this story of the other greatest loss of the RMS Titanic's ancestor of the White Star Line. the SS Atlantic. Although the passenger compliment was less the percentage of loss was greater than the Titanic and equally horrific. You will take a journey about the first of the White Star Line's luxury, steel hull steamships which still carried her sails. Why did the Atlantic divert her voyage to New York to sail to Halifax, leading her to crash on Nova Scotia's granite shore. This story tells of the Destiny of not only the ship herself but of her passengers who made fatal decisions to be on board. Like the RMS Titanic the SS Atlantic carried eleven multi-millionaires, leaders of industry, Learn why Mrs. Rowden insisted on leaving the ship in Queenstown, Ireland where 160 Irish citizens boarded for the new America dream, and the carpet baggers revolt. The loss of all women and children except young John Hindley. The heroism of the Anglican Priest, Reverend Ancient. This journey will make you reflect upon your own path to Destiny. It is not just about a shipwreck but the web creating the destiny of a mighty ocean liner and over one thousand souls in her care. The SS Atlantic the ancestor of the RMS Titanic

• Language: English
• Publisher: Outskirts Press
• Release date: Jun 13, 2023
• ISBN: 9781977265609

Robert "Bob" Love

Bob Love started out life in the small Idaho desert town of Mountain Home, Idaho USA. The nation was trying to recover from the “Great Depression”. Bob’s father became a deputy sheriff in 1938. In 1943, the Army Air Corps created Mountain Home Air Force Base as the line of defense in the anticipated Japanese attack through Alaska and Canada. It was then the Deputy became the Sheriff. Rather than shielding his young son Sheriff Love took Bob on many of the traumatic events including military air crashes and serious vehicle accidents, ingraining the underlying respect for human trauma and the need of public service. Bob acquired his thirst for journalism when he became editor of his high school newspaper. He went on to pursue the vocation, but the Korean War draft interrupted his goals. After his service in the Air Force Bob fell back on the foundations of his youth, becoming his family’s fourth generation police officer rising to a Chief of Police position. He transitioned into a career as an independent insurance adjuster which spanned over 45 years serving Alaska. It was near this career change that he realized the relative chain of events that led to many of the cases he investigated. Bob wrote "E=A Syndrome" (Emotion Equals Attitude) about the positive and negative emotions that affect our attitudes setting up disastrous results. As an adjuster and marine surveyor in the Last Frontier he investigated hundreds of aircraft, vessels, vehicles, and industrial accidents. Prior to commuter air improvements, as a pilot, he flew alone to many of the Alaskan bush losses. In 1989 the Exxon Valdez oil spill presented he and his wife Bev’s firm with the responsibility to administer the claims arising from the spill cleanup activities. Exxon also commissioned them to handle the off-hiring surveys of the 2500-chartered vessels. A studious interest in Situational Awareness concepts gave Bob further insight into his beliefs and when he applied it to the history of the SS Atlantic, pre-destiny was clearly inscribed on her hull. Retired, Bob and Bev, along with their Bishon, Baby Boy, lived in Anchorage, Alaska when this book was first printed in 2006. As a licensed adjuster, Bev worked alongside Bob managing and owning their own firms for over 43 years... On Christmas Eve 2007, Bev lost her long and arduous battle with metastatic internal melanoma cancer. Bob and Baby Boy traveled in the west with their fifth wheel and now live with his childhood friend and Air Force widow, Patricia and their Bishon, Murphy in Boise, Idaho.

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DESTINY BEGINS

THE ROGUE PATHOGEN

WHETHER YOU BELIEVE in predestination or another form of faith that holds you to a code of moral values greater than yourself is a question that humankind debated for centuries. Are our names in The Book spelling out what our God has designed our lives to be from birth to our entrance into eternal life?

The question becomes much clearer when disasters happen, taking large groups of people to a single event. Do these tragedies happen when a certain chain of events among the collection of soles occurs, brings them together in that place at that specific moment in time? Is it just the luck of the draw and you drew a bad hand in the wrong place at the wrong time? Whatever we perceive our existence in this world to be and the end thereof, it is difficult to pass up the recognition of the elements that are strung together link by link over time… sometimes over an exceptionally long period.

The evidence of this, if she could verbalize her genealogy from the depths of the Atlantic Ocean, is the Titanic could undoubtedly, and with sincere emotion, acclaim that the tragedy that befell her ancestor, the SS Atlantic, was indeed the Titanic of 1873.

As you read beyond this chapter, you might develop your own theories of the theological questions as we link the chain of history culminating in the world’s greatest sea disaster prior to the RMS Titanic. You may well question the Titanic’s tragic collision with the iceberg on April 12, 1912. Only 250 miles from where the SS Atlantic’s crew, on April 1, 1873 (All Fools Day), thought they too spotted ice only to realize too late that it was breakers off the rocks of Mehgers Isle along the Nova Scotia coast.

The adage we learn from history or the one that remarks history repeats itself certainly provided clues to the White Star Line owners, in principle, the Ismay family, that tragedy could strike the second generation luxurious ill-fated Titanic, by reflection on the historical loss of their first-generation revolutionary venture into the unforgiving seas of the Atlantic Ocean.

As in any family genealogy, we are provided with the roots from where our trunk grows and the branches which spring forth tell the story of God’s plan. It leaves the pathway to who we are and what we did as children. We can climb through the trees and make discoveries we had never known. It can provide us with guidance in our own world by understanding what motivated our ancestors, why they made certain decisions that led to successes and failures.

The foresight of yesterday’s disaster may well prevent todays. Perhaps the young Ismay, realizing the tragedy that befell his father in 1873, would have learned from that horrific event when making yet again a world changing decision; the building of the greatest luxury liners yet known to the world, the Olympic and the Titanic. Like another aged adage, Like father like son.

The Voyage begins with a chain of many links, beginning on January 7, 1837, at Maryport, Cumberland, in the upper northwest corner of England bordering with Scotland and the Irish Sea. It is a beautiful area with the Cambria Mountains, green valleys and ancient history dating back to the Romans. On this date and in this parish, influenced by the mariner’s yearning to live off the sea, ship owner and builder, Mr., and Mrs. Joseph Ismay, introduced Thomas Henry Ismay to this world. With this tradition and the surroundings of his birth, what else could his destiny become?

Thomas was educated at Croft-house School in Carlisle. At 16, he was apprenticed to another ship owner and ships broker, Imrie and Tomlinson of Liverpool, England. Once his indentures had been fulfilled, he yearned for the open sea aboard one of the Imrie ships. He spent several years at sea, rounding the infamous Cape Horn, visiting ports of Chile, Peru, Bolivia before returning to Liverpool with a young man’s anxiety in seeing the reality of his dreams of owning his own shipping line.

So, in 1867, at the tender age of 30 years, Thomas Henry Ismay put his dream into effect and added the next link in the chain between himself, the Atlantic and ultimately, through his son and heir successor, the Titanic.

In 1847, when Thomas was just 10 years old, Henry Threlfall Wilson and John Pilkington originated the Aberdeen White Star Line. In 1852, they served the trade routes between Liverpool and Melbourne, Australia, carrying miners, prospectors, and goods to the Australian gold fields, returning with whale oil, sealskins, wool, and precious gold.

The Line was a fleet of clipper ships powered by the canvas of their sails. Being made of iron on wood frames, they stood up against the wear and tear much better than the original wooden hulls. One of the first ships of the line was the Blue Jacket, later renamed the White Star. Others were Ellen and the Red Jacket. In 1863, James Chambers, who commissioned the first steamship, the Royal Standard, replaced Pilkington. She was successful in cutting the Australian voyage to less than 70 days.

In 1864, the White Star Line joined forces with the Black Ball and Eagle Lines to form a conglomerate company, the Australian and Eastern Navigational Company Ltd. Financial difficulties because of their ambitious growth overextended their assets so seriously that a new vessel, Sirius, had to be sold.

A new owner would come aboard in the person of John Cunningham, replacing Chambers, and in March 1866, a bank failure added to their problems. The Royal Bank of Liverpool ultimately gained the company’s mortgages, but in October 1867, the bank closed and revealed a debt of ₤527,000. In January 1868, White Star was forced into bankruptcy.

Enter the next link in our chain. Thomas Henry Ismay, visualizing what he perceived to be a tremendous investment opportunity to fulfill his dreams, needed an investment of only ₤1000 to gain the White Star Company along with its ships and related assets. He gained an investment partnership with Sir Edward Harland, noted Belfast marine engineer, and purchased the White Star Line.

Ismay’s experience as a director of the National Line had furnished him with the experience of steamships and the Atlantic traffic. Like his father, he realized the potential of furnishing a luxury class passenger service between Britain and North America.

The first change Ismay decided must be made was to convert to all iron steamships. He called upon a friend and previous fellow apprentice at Imrie and Worthington, William Imrie, and resurrected the White Star Line under the ownership of their newfound company Oceanic Steamship Company.

To carry out their plan, Imrie again solicited the services of his dedicated friend and financial investment partner, Sir Edward Harland. Harland, in partnership with Gustav Wolff, operated the most highly respected shipbuilding yards, Harland and Wolff, in Belfast, Northern Ireland.

This agreement would become a lifetime relationship across two generations of the White Star Line under the Ismay family. The uniqueness of the agreement was each pledged to the other, with nothing in writing, to not build for or buy from any others. H&W built over 70 vessels for the White Star, including the Titanic. A unique fetish of Ismay’s was that all vessels had to bear names ending in ‘IC’.

By the time he was 34 years of age, Thomas Ismay was well on his way to fame and fortune. He was universally recognized as the new shaker and mover of the North Atlantic passenger sea trade. His competitors, including Inman, National Lines, Cunard and Guion, had been served notice. Ismay possessed the enthusiasm of youth, the experience and endurance of hard training and work and a mature foresight about the revolutionizing of the marine industry.

Perhaps what he possessed more was the Rogue Pathogen. His character, as a futuristic adventurer, yielding rapidly to the tug of taking risks necessary to achieve his lofty goals as the King of the sea trade, allowed the Rogue to override the more methodical pathway and fused the next link into our chain.

Ismay’s notice to his competitors was exhibited by the ambitious and risky agreement with Harland and Wolff to build, not just one fine luxury liner to establish credulity and seaworthy success, but four sister ships of a class beyond what his competitors had yet to envision. The speed in building the ships was unprecedented.

The first to slide her keel down the ways was the SS Oceanic in October 1870, the flagship and first to challenge the other lines with her maiden voyage March 2, 1871. In December 1870, the Titanic of 1873, the Atlantic slid down the ways of the Belfast shipbuilders. She would embark on her maiden voyage June 8, 1871, from Liverpool via Queenstown (Cobh) Ireland to New York.

Harland and Wolff would follow these two Queens of the sea with the construction of two identical siblings, the SS Adriatic and SS Celtic.

In acquiescing to Ismay’s desire for speed, the new vessels were designed and built with a narrow ten percent beam to length ratio. Harland and Wolff determined that the design may accomplish these goals. They would have to sacrifice cargo space to get the passenger load and bunkers necessary to carry the coal required for an Atlantic crossing. The hull needed to slice through the seas, in rough weather and smooth.

Ismay expressed his agreement that he was more interested in providing more luxurious passenger service than the cargo trade. He believed firmly in the future of trans-oceanic passenger travel, so was willing to keep the speed issue within competing limits, sacrifice cargo space for bunker and passenger space.

The engineers warned that this narrow beam would create instability, allowing the ship to capsize should she be grounded. Ismay could not envision such an exposure on the Liverpool to New York run.

When the SS Atlantic lay at anchor, her construction completed and ready for sea trials, she presented a picturesque, sleek 3,707 gross ton, 420-foot x 40.9-foot iron hull, standing proudly was her four masts fully rigged for sails, a single funnel displaying the White Star Line markings a of golden color capped by a black band.

Smoke emitting from the funnel attested to her ten boilers operating four cylinders on a compound principle that turned the 18" crankshaft driving a 22-foot single screw propeller. Her G. Forrester and Company engines, manufactured in Liverpool, would provide enough power to allow the Atlantic to run at a speed of 14 knots.

Seven watertight bulkheads had been included through the length of the ship. The steerage passengers were assigned to the third deck. The deck was separated into three sections segregating single men, single women, and families.

From the discussions among Ismay, Harland and Wolff came not only the narrow design concept for speed, but in seeking consideration for better passenger comfort, the usual narrow deck houses and high solid bulkheads were replaced by an iron promenade deck with open railings. Even more innovative was moving the first-class dining saloon and cabins from the stern to amidships. Here there was less movement and vibration of the propeller.

The saloon covered the entire width of the ship. The portholes were also larger than the cabins. Ismay accomplished his desires by witnessing an airy queen of the sea, the pride of which had to have been difficult to contain. He had truly revolutionized the standards of trans-oceanic travel.

Despite the positives in the new evolution of maritime commerce, and motivations of Thomas Ismay to bring about these changes to grab hold of his dreams with a strong fist, the launching of the SS Atlantic in December 1870 would forge yet another link in the chain. The narrow beam design becomes all too clear by the time this voyage reaches its ultimate destiny.

It should be declared here that there is no historical data that shows any deliberate intention or conspiracy to sacrifice safety for speed in making the design changes. Certainly, boats from small to large ships have been built for centuries and the dynamics of design have been experimented with throughout that history. By the time we got into the era of steam powered luxury passenger ships the basic design physics should be well ingrained.

History had taught the builder that the narrower the beam, the easier the vessel will capsize. They were also converting from a cargo trade to passengers. The cargo vessels were broader abeam and made to accommodate larger quantities of cargo. When the passenger vessels became more popular, all the lines sought ways to outdo their competition.

The first consideration seemed to make the voyage short as possible. The vessels were still using the sails to assist the engines. This affected the balances of the ship’s center-of-gravity shifts under storm conditions that could arise from the sea, suddenly swamping or shifting a vessel on her axis and broadly siding her with a monster wave.

One thing about history, we have the advantage of looking back and making our own assessments of the people and events of yester year. Thomas Ismay, Harland, and Wolff, or any of those associated with them in the White Star Line had nothing in mind but a desire to make positive revolutionary changes in the maritime industry.

They were like people of all generations that followed, young men caught up in exciting times. Great strides were being accomplished in Britain with the inventions and improvements of steam engines for industrial use, the advent of electricity, and new opportunities in the trade routes of the world’s oceans. Like today’s entrepreneurs, they were the 19th Century’s.

Remember what I said in the beginning about the Rogue Pathogen? It can lay dormant in any of us for a long time and without warning, attack our sensibilities, while in others it works on a somewhat regular frequency. In any event, it short circuits our denial system, allowing us to take risks we would normally resist.

The positive side is those risks have led to the Ismay’s and the Harland and Wolff’s of the world to push maritime travel into a new era. It has allowed for extra-ordinary risks by heroic people towards the development of the submarine, undersea exploration, breaking the sound barrier and putting a man on the moon.

This same pathogen has also caused the lives of thousands of people, very few of which could be said were for good. Many of the contributions to disastrous events such as shipwrecks, aircraft, and train accidents, as well as the collapse of structures because of faulty construction can come from one individual’s sudden urge to take a shortcut or let a personal desire expedite a professional responsibility, thereby, denial of situational awareness and the consequences that may follow.

BIRMINGHAM

RICHARD COX SAT at his ornate Victorian walnut desk, his slightly but strongly built body resting in an upholstered leather high-back chair in the matching walnut tone of his desk and office walls. He insisted his office be kept clean, neatly appointed, and free from the grime, scraps of material, and anything that he felt should be kept on the floor of the shop.

His office was a sanctuary from all the degradation found no matter where you went in the city of Birmingham, England, in the late 1860s to early 1870s. The office was on a mezzanine floor with one wall comprising large glass windows overlooking the production floor. From here he could see the firebrick forges that looked like bread ovens with their squared openings where the metals were heated.

He could watch the artisans take the hot steel from the forges, skillfully pound them into shape on the steel anvils, forming shapes and designs that would become another of their trademark bedsteads. Richard glanced to his side; looked at the designs they had developed for their new 1873 line, lying on the drafting table.

Richard’s factory produced the finest of England’s bed frames. Many of England’s elite, including the Royal Palace of Queen Victoria, had bedsteads made by Cox.

This day, though, he was deep in distraction about things other than what was happening down on the floor. As he surveyed the walls of his office, his eyes focused on the calendar. It depicted March but what struck him was the picture of a sleek trim luxury liner of the White Star Line breaking the waves of an ocean on a journey to new horizons. He found himself drifting off into a daydream of adventure, longing to be aboard her to a new land and a new life.

The reality of Richard’s need to escape was ever present, just two stories below his window and the sky above. Birmingham was an unorganized community, growing as an industrial city, but would not actually be designated as an official city until 1883. In 1865, a group of men joined in bringing organization to Birmingham and by 1873 were well on their way to making it a thriving modern city.

It would be several years before success and new people entering public services would bring this about. They never got their first Medical Officer appointment until 1872 and the death rates among children was over 200 per 1000 population with over 50% death rate of the populous in some quarters of the city.

In 1870, buildings on Ann Street and Concave Street were demolished to make way for the new Council House. In 1873, trenching was accomplished to provide the sewer pipes for the new facility which was built in 1874.

There was a war on eradicating rats and cleaning up areas where they bred. The streets had long been inundated by the manure of the horses, deposited in providing the city with its transportation system of horse-drawn buses, handsome cabs, buggies, wagons, and hundreds of individual carriages, and horses with riders.

As in London, the larger communities had to provide a cleanup service to pick up the tons of manure from the streets. This dilemma doubled the number of horses on the streets, requiring the pickup of tons more of the excrement.

Richard would go home in his own buggy each day, smelling the foul air. Overhead, the sky would be dulled by the coke fire’s black sooty smoke spewing from the chimneys of every building. But he knew in his heart that there were also many positive things happening.

The industrial age was upon them. The Victorian period would influence generations into the future, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of depression with his place in all this. Something inside his 40-year-old heart kept struggling to explode into an action of interesting decision, one telling him to walk out that factory door tonight and never again return.

America was also in a period of reconstruction following the Civil War. There were lands for homesteading providing opportunities to raise a family in clean air, free of the threats of society he passed through each day. And now, there on his office wall was the enticement.

Richard turned away from the picture. Looking out his office window over the cobble stone street below, he heard the clopping noises of the horses as they towed their carriages by. He saw a large team of drays pulling a supply wagon loaded with boxes. As they passed right under his window, the horses dumped piles of manure in front of his door.

Richard cracked and the anxiety level shot out of his mouth in a screaming No, damn it, no, no, no more!

He ran out the office door, grabbing his Topper and long coat from the rack as he went. He bounded down the mezzanine steps, almost missing one, stumbled forward, and caught himself on the rail as his shop manager came hurriedly toward him.

Richard, what’s going on, Mike inquires with anticipation.

I’ve had it, Mike; I have to get out of here.

What do you mean, get out of here? I’ve seen your moodiness of late but have kept to myself considering you were just having some personal hang-ups that if you wanted my help, you would ask. But you seem to have blown your top and almost took a header off the stairs.

Mike, I’m sorry for alarming you, Richard offered, but I have had all I can take of the business, Birmingham, and living in this depressing hole. I have decided to go to America and look for fresh adventures and fortune. There are all kinds of opportunities there; new land to be had, clean pure air and water, mountains of forests and clear streams and rivers. We could raise the children and give them the opportunities they could never hope for here. Richard enthusiastically explained.

Mike could see the enthusiasm rising in Richard with each word he spoke; But what about the family, Richard? Elizabeth will never want to leave the lifestyle she enjoys here. It would give up her beautiful home, servants, the children’s schooling. You know how she so much enjoys her social status. Can she have the same in America on a pioneer homestead?

God, Mike, I’ve got to get away from this depressing hole. I can’t put up with the damnable things the crown is doing to tax us to death, the city is full of thugs and near-do wells preying on you around every street corner and this stinking, smoky air won’t let a man breathe clean air and feel the freshness of clear skies or even stainless streams of rain.

The March air was cold and damp, soon to be dark, providing the atmosphere relished by the mystery writer’s pen. He couldn’t shake the feeling. Something inside his 40-year-old stoutly built frame kept struggling to explode into an action of compelling decision. One, telling him to walk out that factory door today and never return.

He thrust his arms into his heavy woolen long coat, swung the scarf around his neck with a carefree flip of the arm, slipped into a pair of overshoes and strode toward the door.

Mike caught Richard’s arm. But I needed to discuss some design changes in that new bedstead. We’re having some problems with the sculptured post ornaments. I was hoping we could take care of it before we leave tonight.

I’ll see you tomorrow. Richard stated with pointed impatience, and then he caught himself, Sorry Mike, but this whole situation has me completely absorbed now. I need to get home, take time with Elizabeth and the children. Maybe by morning it will make sense and I can think more clearly again. Then Richard promised, I’ll be in early tomorrow morning, and we can go over them then. I would appreciate it if you would finish up here for me tonight."

With that, Richard turned and walked straight shouldered towards the door. As he reached for the door handle with his gloved left hand, he flipped his Topper on his head with the right and stepped into the cold, chilling damp air.

Somehow, it was not as bad as usual. He didn’t feel the bone cold weather as he strolled along the walkway to his buggy garage. At the back of the shop, the garage had a horse stall and a room for his driver to spend the day when he wasn’t out running errands for the shop or household. It was there he waited to take Richard home.

Wells Street was an upper-class neighborhood. The Victorian style row houses, neatly adorned with clean white painted facades, leaded etched glass door panels, were approached up brick steps lined with black wrought iron rails, twisted, and curled in a masculine yet graceful simplicity of strength.

Richard always looked forward to getting home. Regardless of all the other problems, no matter how deep the depressions, he could always find warmth and comfort to lift his spirits when he walked through that heavy front door. It was as if he had passed through a protective gateway to a better world. It kept the dingy, brown skies and the spoils of all he was rapidly finding repulsive, from seeking him out.

Father, father: you’re home early, exclaimed a petite, bright brown eyed 10-year-old dressed in a lace trimmed ankle length dress of robin egg blue and white puffed sleeves. Her brown shoulder length hair flowing, Carrie ran down the gleaming hardwood staircase, almost knocking her father back against the door with her exuberant hug around his waist.

With loving pride, he picked Carrie up by her underarms and lifted her high over his head. He gave her an affectionate kiss on the left cheek as he lowered her to the floor. For the moment, the day’s thoughts of business, sailing across the Atlantic or the harsh weather outside were gone from his inner most consciousness.

With a feeling of elated anxiety gripping her, Elizabeth knew Richard had come home early. The other children suddenly vacated the kitchen and started running toward the foyer. They always greeted their father with a resounding greeting. Suddenly, Richard had all five of his offspring hugging around him. He hoisted Carrie back up in the air, Alice, and Harriet on either side, each holding a leg while Tom and Charles pressed his kneecaps under Carrie’s feet, which were now resting on the boy’s shoulders.

Looking at Tom and Charlie’s faces, he asks, What is going on in the kitchen? Looks like you boys have had your heads in the cookie dough.

Richard and Carrie stealthily crept to the closed carved door hung on spring-loaded hinges so it would swing both ways. Carrie, leading her father carefully, the others following close behind, pushed the door until they could look through the crack. The aroma of fresh bread was lingering gently in the air, giving rise to the saliva under his tongue and a twinge in the stomach as it gave notice that something good to eat was nearby.

Richard couldn’t contain himself any longer. With a push on the door, it swung wide. Carrie, leaning against it to peek through, went sprawling into the kitchen. Startled, Elizabeth and Lillian jerked around, witnessing an episode of instant shock. In his effort to avoid stepping on Carrie, Richard was falling over her with his toes planted on the floor, his hands affecting the polished hardwood, leaving him in a raised pushup position. Carrie scampered out from under him. Richard, breaking out in choked laughter, rolled over onto his back and sat up right, wrapping his hands around his raised knees.

Lillian was still shocked, not knowing if she should join in the laughter. This was Mr. Cox, her employer. Lilly, as the family most affectionately called her, had not been with the household long. She had quickly come to know the Cox family as very loving, but she wasn’t yet sure just where her place should be. A more personality cute than pretty, green eyed, red haired Irish young woman, quite attractive of figure. She had come to Birmingham on her 18th birthday, alone and with little funds except those given to her by friends and relatives for her travel.

Jobs and the hopes of even survival for many Irish families were in serious doubt. The Great Famine caused people to exit the country looking for work and opportunity elsewhere. Many were traveling to Liverpool, England or to the port at Queenstown (Cobh) in the south of Ireland, hoping to get aboard an ocean vessel to America.

Lillian’s brother and father had gone to America. She had stayed in the family home caring for her mother, who hoped someday to join her family in the colonies. Food was low, with only what friends could share. Under nourished and the chilly dampness of the season, colluded with the virus from which her mother suffered. One morning Lillian awoke to find her mother had quietly passed beyond any more pain and suffering, discovering the peace she had desperately sought for those long months.

Elizabeth stepped up behind Lillian placing a firm but loving hand on her shoulder. Without words, Lilly knew she was part of the hilarity and as her hand rose to her mouth, she broke out in laughter. She hadn’t felt this kind of love and emotion before. Oh, there were a lot of times as she grew to womanhood, that she shared humorous times with her brothers or friends, but never had she experienced the family affection with her mother and father, as she found with the Cox family.

Lillian always had a deep affection for her parents. She knew they possessed the same love for her, but times were always hard, always having to scrape whatever they could together to live, but now she was finding the emotions she had always dreamed of were there to experience.

Elizabeth nodded her head toward Richard as she looked at Lilly. The two of them looked down at him in this compromising position on the floor. Each taking a hand, the two of them pulled Richard to his feet while the children, pushing from his back, exhibited a look of exhausted pride for their contribution in getting their father to his feet. Are you all, right? , Beth asks, more out of courtesy than concern, as it was obvious, he was in good spirits.

Before he could answer, she put her arms over his shoulders. He could see her face soften as her deep brown eyes seemed to reach straight through his own. A tug in his heart rushed the blood in his veins, mounting a warm, anxious feeling throughout his body. He put his right hand behind the loosely wound bun of hair on her head and gently pressed her face to his. As they stood there embraced in a moment of profound emotion, Richard felt he was removed from the reality of his kitchen, Carrie, and Lillian, who were hand in hand, quietly walking through the door to the parlor, or for the moment, remembering the vision of the adventure he had been contemplating when he came home.

As their lips parted, Josie again looked into his eyes and there, she could see something. That vision had returned to Richard’s mind. He knew the emotions he had just experienced were to be, perhaps, the last he could share for a long time with the one person he valued most in his life.

With a feeling of anxiety gripping her, Josie knew there was something her husband wanted to relate. But not sure she wanted to hear what it was.

After all the children used their father for a tumbling mat. Richard had the boys pinned to the floor. He was able to extricate himself from the frivolity and give his flour and dough covered wife a kiss.

With a feeling of anxiety gripping her, perhaps because Richard was home so unusually early, Elizabeth could feel there was something on Richard’s mind of crucial importance, but she did not want to press him. She knew he would confide in her when he was ready. In the meantime, she could make the household comfortable.

Lily, Elizabeth instructed, please finish with the baking and clear away the kitchen as quickly as you can. I would like dinner a little early tonight. I’m going upstairs and cleaning up. If you need any help, let me know.

I’ll be okay Mrs. Cox; I can get it all straight away. I’ll start the dinner within the half hour.

Oh, by the way, Lily, we won’t be dressing for dinner, just casual, and we would like you to join us. You’ve been a great help, Lily, and we have enjoyed so much you’re being a part of our family, expressed Elizabeth with sincere humility for the young Irish girl.

Richard, with his arm draped across Elizabeth’s shoulders, started walking toward the door. He turned his face to her and smiled with appreciation for her kindhearted treatment of Lily. He recognized strength yet fragileness in his wife that gave him heart-rending concerns, causing him to reflect on what Mike had said before he left the plant.

Dinner was over, Elizabeth and Lilly cleaned up the dining room and kitchen with help from Carrie, the other children, heading to their rooms. Richard went to his bedroom, changed into a smoking jacket, retiring to the living room where he built a crackling fire in the fireplace. He sat down, lit his pipe, and stared at the flames. Deep in thought, he waited for the love of his life to whom he was to deliver a potentially disastrous shock about his adventurous decision.

As Elizabeth entered the room, surveyed the scene of her loved one so deep within himself, she knew it was time to just provide quiet companionship. Richard jerked with the sudden awareness of her presence. He got to his feet, placing his pipe on the side table next to his chair. As they stood side by side, her left arm supportive, but gently around his waist, his right arm as a shawl across the back of her shoulders, they stared into the dancing orange and yellow flames of the fireplace.

Elizabeth was searching for a vision in the fire that would give her clarity of what her anxieties meant. Richard, searching in the crackling flames for the right words, the confirmation of his decision.

Other than an ornate glass shaded oil lamp on a solid wood table near the shelves at the far corner of the elegant room, only the fireplace illuminated the surroundings.

Richard could feel the warmth of the fire gradually increase in the front of his body. He lightly gripped Beth, as he affectionately called her, by the shoulder, turning her to the right as he pulled his arm back. An upholstered settee sat angular to the fireplace. He ushered her a couple of steps to it, directing her to sit down.

Darling, what I have to say is something you would doubtfully conceive. My thoughts have been plagued of late with a great disturbance. An urge that became unshakable. This country has become a travesty with the industrial revolution, the political problems right here in Birmingham. Life just seems to get out of hand. I find no pleasure at the bed factory anymore. Instead of diving deeply into new creations, the challenges of producing quality goods and the pride I felt in being a successful proprietor, I now feel only depression, an interesting urge to escape.

But my dear, Beth interrupted, You have accomplished so much with your life.

"Yes, perhaps, but please let me say what I must in my own way. Please understand and listen carefully, not just to the words, but to the feelings with which I express them. This concern runs deep, and it is complicated by the mixing of the emotions of love and desire for you and our beautiful children.

Richard strode closer to the fire, slightly beyond Beth’s loving hand. He stared into the flames for what seemed an endless time to Beth, but she was determined to let her husband work out the solution to his thoughts in silence. Beth, I am going to America!

Beth’s stomach suddenly wrenched with tension, so badly she gripped it with both hands. Charles had not turned to face her. He stood, as if mesmerized by the flames. It was all Beth could do to keep from exclaiming her pain.

Beth, a stout-built lady, slightly over 5’ tall, carried herself with dignity and confidence. She was obviously one of high morals and could discuss the affairs of the state with the best of Birmingham’s finest. Stern and commanding outside, she possessed an inner quality of compassion and understanding. She was quick to relate to the feelings of others.

He turned, facing her; he kneeled and looked into her pretty walnut brown eyes. Tears welled up on her bottom eyelids until they spilled over, slowly running down her soft cheeks with the rainbow of colors reflecting from the firelight.

Richard reached out with his hands, and with his thumps gently caught the ribbons of tears as he caressed her face. They looked deeply into each other’s eyes, with an emotion of love generated over all the years they have shared. But there was also the anxiety of fear mixed in, causing her an extraordinary confusion of those emotions.

Beth knew she needed to show love and support to the man she loved so dearly and for whom she had borne him five wonderful children. She wanted to scream out with the demanding inquisition how he could consider such a radical idea. A disruption to what she perceived as a comfortable social and secure lifestyle.

Beth suppressed the fearsomeness. Leaning forward on the settee, she embraced him. Richard placed his hand on the soft hair at the back of her neck and brought her head to rest on his shoulder. They rested there, just feeling each other’s breathing, the tenderness of each other’s touch, each filled with their independent emotions of knowing they had come to the most important crossroad in their life.

NEW HORIZONS

"GOOD MORNING, RICHARD. Did you get anything sorted out last night?" Mike asks as Richard walked through the door on his way toward the bottom of the mezzanine stairway.

Well, I broke the news to Beth, but let’s get things started for the day. We’ll sit down upstairs later, and I’ll go over everything with you then. In the meantime, I think you wanted to discuss the recent design changes, so give me a minute and we’ll do that first.

Okay, Richard, I’ll get the crew working and have the boys crate the bedsteads that are ready for shipment. Then I’ll come up to the office and we can go over the drawings.

Richard turned and started up the stairs as Mike headed for the inner sanctum of the production floor where the forges gave off a stifling heat and the anvils sang their respective tunes of the smithy’s individualized styles of working the white-hot metal into decorative shapes and rounded rods of curves and straight posts.

Mike went out to the yard area behind the shop where the crating was done. He instructed the men about the orders to be crated in the straw filled wooded crates and returned to the shop. Seeing everything progressing smoothly, he headed to Richard’s office.

What are you doing, Richard, looking for yourself on the deck of that ship