Jack Vaughn was a sound sleeper, and what eventually woke him was not the sound of the ship hitting the iceberg, but the shouting outside the stateroom he shared with his wife. As his head cleared, he realized that the deck beneath him was tilted at an odd angle. Throwing an overcoat over his pajamas, he hurried out into the corridor.
The scene that greeted him was a madhouse. Some uniformed crew members were making attempts to lower the lifeboats. Others ran back and forth to no apparent purpose, yelling orders that were often contradictory. He heard splashes as some passengers jumped into the ocean. Collaring a ship’s steward as he went past, Vaughn asked what had happened.
“We’ve struck an iceberg, sir… a big one” the man replied. I doubt she’ll swim more than another half hour or so. I’d best get to as lifeboat as soon as I could if I were you- there’s not enough room for everyone, and it will be survival of the fittest eventually, for sure!”
Vaughn quickly returned to his cabin. His wife Dorothy had taken one of her sleeping pills and was still unconscious. He shook her gently. “Come on, Dot…wake up! Time to get up, right now!”
“Wha..what is it Jack?”
“They say the ship has hit an iceberg, hon. I’m sure everything will be fine, but it looks as though the next leg of our Grand Tour will be via lifeboat”, he said, attempting a reassuring smile. “Now I need you to put on all the warm clothing you have, gather whatever valuables you can’t do without, and follow me out to the concourse.”
When Vaughn emerged with his wife a few minutes later the situation had deteriorated further. The ship had lowered itself to the point where passengers could be handed into the boats without having to jump into the freezing water, and the available space was filling up quickly. He looked around frantically until he saw a boat that appeared to have a bit of room left. “Here” he called to the crewman who seemed to be in charge. “Please take my wife. She won’t take up much room at all.”
“Sorry Mister… we’re full up” the crewman replied, but Vaughn pressed a wad of bills into the man’s hand and grudgingly room was made for Dorothy.
“Now, don’t worry about me, Dot”, said Vaughn. “I’ll catch another boat and meet up with you before you know it. In the meantime, just sit back and remember all the grand times we had on the Continent. Remember, I love you, dear.” At that point the boat pushed off and he watched it fade into the darkness.
Jack Vaughn returned to his stateroom in a pensive mood. Not enough room in the lifeboats for everyone, they said. He had enough cash to bribe his way onto another boat…but was hat really what he wanted? Look at me, he thought. An old used-up fellow beset with all kinds of ailments. He’d lived his life; could he really take a place in a lifeboat- knowing that perhaps it might mean that a younger, stronger person with their life ahead of them might be left behind?
He went into the stateroom bath. Dorothy had left her sleeping pills behind. He hesitated for only a moment before swallowing the remainder of them. He knew that his story was about to come to an end, and drowning, he thought, was not the way he wanted to spend his last moments.
He lay down on the bed- was it tilted even more, or was that simply the pills taking effect?- and Jack Vaughn, the owner of the Chicago Doves, drifted off to sleep with the trace of a smile on his face.