The Dressmaker (32 page)

“Tom Sullivan, is that your name?”

“Yes, sir.” Sullivan pulled himself up in the witness seat, hands clasped in front of him, clutching his cap. Her source for the original bribery story. His eyes were furious, close to burning a hole in Jim’s departing back. But his face took on a mask of gravity as he turned directly to his questioner.

“Let’s get your story of what happened on Lifeboat One. You were in charge, right?” Senator Perkins was doing this round of questioning, and he was impatient to be done with it.

“Yes, sir, I sure was. I was master of the situation.”

“How many people were in your boat?”

Sullivan didn’t hesitate. “Oh, fourteen to twenty,” he said.

“We were told by the previous witness that there were twelve occupants, and you could have held up to fifty. Is that correct?”

“Well, we took who we could.”

“We also understand from Mr. Bonney’s testimony that you did not return to where the ship sank.”

Sullivan shook his head so vigorously that his collar almost came undone. “No, sir, we came back after the ship went down and saw nothing. Thank you for the chance to correct the record.”

Smith and the other panel members exchanged looks of surprise.

“You did go back?”

“Of course we did,” Sullivan said indignantly. “I’m sorry to say this, but Jim Bonney is a shifty sort; he’s got an ax to grind, for something.”

“Did you rescue anyone in the water?”

“No, sir, nobody was alive. Didn’t hear anybody.” The sorrowful tone was back.

“When did you go back?”

“Soon as we could.” Sullivan waved his hand vaguely.

“Then what did you do?”

“We rowed around.” He glanced quickly at the two men with briefcases, a glance Pinky caught. She stared at the pair.

“Was there any confusion or excitement among your passengers?”

Sullivan seemed totally comfortable now. “No, sir, I never saw it. It was just the same as if it was an everyday affair.”

An everyday affair? The silence in the room told him he had gone too far. A few murmurings and glances were exchanged. He began picking at his fingers, his eyes once again darting toward the men with briefcases. “Not totally that, of course. But we were pulling together, you know? It was a sad time.”

“Is there any other incident that you wish to state that would be of interest to the public? Anything about the actions of the passengers, the Duff Gordons?”

“No, sir, not that I know of.”

“Did they refuse to go back?”

“No, sir. They are fine people.”

“Did they offer you a bribe?” Senator Smith cut in.

“No, sir. Mr. Bonney is wrong on that one, too. He has problems. And I have no more to say.”

Perkins leaned back in his chair, his brow furrowed. “Thank you, Mr. Sullivan. You are dismissed,” he said, glancing at his watch.

“Could I say one thing more, sir?” Sullivan said.

“What would that be?”

“Sometimes people don’t think right in bad situations, and then try to cover up their own behavior. If anybody could push people away, it would be Bonney. He’s got a bad reputation—he could’ve pushed people off, you bet. He’s the bastard in this room.”

Pinky stared at Sullivan. Loathsome, lying toad, trying to save his own skin by switching stories. She should have published his name. Here he was, playing the humble seaman, just a sturdy man trying to do his job; good show. The Duff Gordons had been more generous this time. She watched as the two men with briefcases slipped out the door and saw one of them give Sullivan a quick nod as he exited.

Who were they? She scrambled after the pair, following them through the exit door, shutting it in time to step in front of one of them. He looked neither startled nor displeased, just indifferent.

“Wait, I need to know—who are you?” she asked.

“That’s really no business of yours, Miss Wade,” he said.

So he knew her name. “I’ll bet you’re a lawyer. What firm are you with?”

He gave a thin smile. “Miss Wade, there are many lawyers in this room. Some, as you know, get elected to Congress. Are you so surprised that a lowly seaman might have representation? I’m afraid you aren’t well versed in the law. Good day.” He started to walk away.

“Wait a minute—who’s paying you?”

He ignored her and kept walking.

Senator Smith barely looked up as he called the last witness of the morning. One more from Lifeboat One.

“Mr. Albert Purcell, please take the stand.”

A burly, weathered man with large ears and thinning hair settled his bulk into the witness seat. The questioning began, covering the same ground as before—where he was on the ship, what he did.

“After the ship went down, did you hear any cries?”

“Not that I recall.” He sneaked a quick look at Sullivan.

“Did anybody suggest that you should go back in the direction of the people in the water?”

“Not to my knowledge.”

“Nobody said
anything
about going back?”

“No, sir.” Purcell was almost beaming.

“Mr. Bonney said he did. Is that correct?”

“No, sir. He’s puffing himself up.”

Senator Harbinson broke in. “All right, do you remember hearing anything said about presents or about money?”

“Yes, I do, and I will explain how it came about.” Purcell had his details ready, and he was anxious to spill them out. “Well, you see, Lady Duff Gordon said something like ‘There is my beautiful nightdress gone,’ and I said, ‘Never mind about that, as long as you have got your life,’ and I said we had lost everything and then Sir Duff Gordon said later he’d give us a little something to start over. That’s all I heard.”

“How long after the
Titanic
went down did you first hear mention of this money?”

“About three-quarters of an hour.”

“Did you consider it a bribe?”

“Oh no, sir. Just a generous offer from generous people.”

“Did it occur to you at all that you ought to go back?”

Purcell responded in lofty fashion. “No, it was not my place. I was not in charge of the boat; if that had been said, I would certainly have gone back.”

“You were ready and willing?”

“Quite willing.”

“Were you not surprised that somebody else did not suggest it?”

“Yes, I was,” he said, with what he clearly hoped was indignation.

“I don’t understand your frame of mind,” Senator Harbinson suddenly snapped. “You were surprised that no one made the suggestion but you were not surprised that you did not make it?”

“We were half dazed at the time,” Purcell stammered, casting another glance at Sullivan, who was glaring at him.

“Can you offer any explanation at all as to why your boat didn’t try to pick up people?”

Purcell hesitated, trapped, then plunged on. “Yes, well, we would have been swamped if we had gone back; that is my opinion. There were so many people in the water—you could hear that by the cries.”

“Ah, so you heard cries and
didn’t
go back? Even to find
nothing
? And, by the way, Mr. Sullivan says you
did
go back under his direction?”

Purcell looked at Sullivan hopelessly; he had stepped into it. “No, sir. Yes, sir.”

“Did anybody say it was dangerous?”

The coaching he had clearly received reasserted itself. “No, sir. Nobody said anything like that.”

“Did anyone say you might be swamped?”

“No, sir.”

“Does it not occur to you that you might very well have gone back with a good chance of picking up some stragglers from outside the swarm?”

“Yes, if they were outside, I guess.”

Harbinson was weary. They were all weary. “It did not occur to you that you might have unloaded your passengers by getting some of the other boats to take some of your passengers, and then gone back with a practically empty boat to pick up some of the poor people in the water?”

“No, sir.”

“Enough of this,” said Senator Smith. All in the room were obviously remembering the forthrightness of Harold Lowe. And Pinky, twisting about, kept hoping that she would see Jim. Sullivan surely
had been brought down by this inept fool who couldn’t keep his lies straight. Wouldn’t everybody see it now?

Jim was standing alone by the front door of the Senate Office Building, drawing hard on a cigarette through pressed lips, staring at the Capitol. Deep furrows had etched their way into his strong-boned face.

“Who—” Pinky began as she joined him.

“Don’t ask, because I won’t answer. None of it brings back the dead.”

“Look, those two were lying—anyone could see that. You came out ahead.”

“Don’t be so sure. You saw those men with the briefcases? Who are they?”

“I’ll find out. If they’re lawyers, Purcell should have been briefed better. Relax, Jim. Purcell ruined their story.”

“That woman won’t give up easily. You know as well as I do she’s got something up her sleeve.”

“Lady Duff?”

“Of course.”

She paused. But she couldn’t stop trying to console him. “What can she do now? The others in your boat know the truth. What is she going to do, silence them all? Somebody will back you up.”

“Who? Besides those dancers and the Duff Gordons, there were only crew members in the boat. And, believe me, they have every one of them in their pocket. They know what they’re doing.” He dropped the cigarette to the ground, and immediately lit another. “What does it matter, anyway? Nobody’s going to jail over this. I know it happened in the other boats. I just want the damn thing to be told true. And I want Tess to believe me.”

“I think she will.”

“When it’s between me and the woman she thinks is her lifeline?”

“She won’t be fooled by a lie.” Why did she speak with such conviction?

How did she know what someone in Tess’s situation would think? But it was hard to imagine someone not trusting Jim, especially Tess.

“I want to see her, Pinky.”

“I figured I was going to be the go-between,” she said good-naturedly. “Are you sure?”

“More than you can possibly know.”

There was enough fervor in his words to strike her silent for the moment. There was even more fervor in what he said next.

“The thing is, right now what Sullivan said is what people
want
to believe. It’s a clean lie that makes everybody feel better.” He drew deeply on the cigarette and tossed it to the ground, grinding it with his foot. “You know what I mean? Brave sailors and passengers go back on a rescue mission, but all those screaming people in the water have conveniently died. It’s stitched up nice and neat. No wrestling with the choice of one man to wait until most of the people died; no having to believe another sailor who can’t muster up a hero for them, not even for himself. Sullivan fills the bill. What people want is a steady type who did the right thing. Whatever that is.”

He turned away. “I’m sorry, I’ve got to get out of here.” He stalked away, striding off down the hill. Pinky didn’t try to hurry after him. She simply followed him with her eyes.

And from a window in the conference room looking out on the steps, hands clasped behind his back, so did Senator William Alden Smith.

A tall man, that Bonney, striding away, looking quite somber and determined. The man was probably telling the truth, even though there was obviously bad blood between him and Sullivan. Purcell was a joke.

How far did he want to push this? He knew in his heart, no matter what the newspapers said, that there were survivors out there having a hard time living with themselves because they acted out of fear, not courage. Was it worth it to hunt them down and expose them?

Look at this man Darling. A good man, from all reports, who did one weak-willed thing, now dead by his own hand. Did he need to drag this arrogant British designer and her husband into the hearings? Weren’t they getting whipped about enough in the newspapers?

He stared after Bonney and made his decision.