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Description

(IMAGE CREDIT TO Teebsy-86 . Check out their other works!)

“Toppa th’mornin to ya! Need a hand with yer bags? Hup! Right this way, guv’na!”

Name: Noelle Megan Andrews
Alias: Nellie, Minnie

DOB: 10 March 1895
Current Residence: Belfast, Ireland

Height: 5’3”
Weight: 184lb
Hair: Brown
Eyes: Green

Employer: Oceanic Steam Navigation Company (White Star Line), Société Cherbourgeoise Transbordement, Société Cherbourgeoise de Remorquage et de Sauvetage, Titanic Belfast

Command: SS Nomadic, (Ingénieur Minard) Hull 422 of Harland and Wolff Shipbuilders, Belfast, Ireland

Noelle “Nellie” Megan Andrews is one of the lesser-sung heroes of the British shipping company White Star Line; her cousins the Carlisles were all stars of heroism and tragedy, leading the development of commercial liners by the example of their builders in Harland and Wolff.

Personality: Nellie is a bubbly, outgoing maiden. Her years of tendering has afforded her experience with dozens of ships of all shapes and sizes, and she’s never had a shortage of friends nearby to tease and joke around with. While she loves a good prank, though, she understands when work needs doing and takes it on with little fuss. If you catch her nearby tell her to keep up the good work.

Bio: Nellie was born in March 1895 to then-senior architect at H&W, Thomas Andrews Sr., and quickly became a regular sight at the shipyard close to her home. Often she would come bearing a sack of sandwiches she and her mother prepared in case a hapless worker forgot his lunch, and through fatherly connections she befriended the local barman Harold Flaherty. As his bar “Lager by the Lough” grew busier with the construction of hulls 400, 401 and 422, Nellie apprenticed as a waitress and with a shimmering white smile she floated about the restaurant floor bearing food and drink to the tavern’s customers.

When Nellie was about 16 years old, Hull 422 - christened as “Nomadic” - was completed and launched into the River Lagan. Hull 400, RMS Olympic, had been launched half a year before and was nearing completion in the newly-dredged Thompson Graving Dock. Olivia, the oldest of H&W chief engineer Alexander Carlisle’s three daughters, would command the new superliner. Hull 401, Titanic, was still on the gantry to rivet the final plates on her hull before her launch day.

Thomas Andrews Jr, Nellie’s brother, joined Nomadic’s maiden voyage to Cherbourg alongside the Olympic as she was registered in Liverpool. That same day Titanic’s hull slid into the Lagan and made ready for fitting out.

April 10, 1912 saw Noelle greet Anna, Olivia’s middle sister, off the coast of Cherbourg, France. The latter was in command of the soon-to-be-infamous RMS Titanic alongside Captain E. J. Smith. Tommy was onboard, as well as chairman Bruce Ismay. Nellie had sacks of mail from mainland Europe and passengers that booked First Class tickets for passage to New York, all of which was loaded onto Titanic for the crossing, and a parting whistle was the last time Noelle would see this elegant cousin for nearly 20 years, as the sun threw its final crimson rays to the horizon.

Six days after Titanic left Cherbourg at her tail, a somber Olivia steamed in and broke the terrible news to Noelle and her sister Tabitha: Titanic had hit an iceberg halfway to New York and sank with a large portion of the passengers and crew onboard, including Thomas Andrews.
The news utterly devastated the little dark-haired maiden, as she had loved Tommy and grew worried her cousin was killed as well; she was almost too demoralized to work at disembarking passengers and unloading mailbags and luggage.

Another two years passed like this, and once or twice a mailbag ended up in the harbor rather than Nomadic’s hold, as the news of Titanic’s loss - and Anna’s - still clung to her mind: ‘What had happened to her? Did she make it off in a boat? Was she left in the water to drown? Did someone pick her up?’ These questions and many others had spun her head faster than her screws could, and left her disoriented and utterly distracted. Tabitha, commander of the smaller SS Traffic, took up the slack as best she could. Yet with a large schedule of smaller steamers there was only so much the little tender could do. Then the Great War broke out.

All of the steamers preparing to depart were unloaded and subsequently mothballed, Olympic included. Lusitania and Mauretania were also mothballed, but due to their construction off of Royal Navy-influenced designs the pair still operated limited services. However, more tragic news would come.

May 8, 1915, Old Head of Kinsale, Ireland.

Lucy Tania, commander of her eponymous turbine-driven luxury liner, had been at sea for the past week. She could make the trip in only four days, but had to curtail her speed for coal shortages. But as morning became midday two white trails shot towards the starboard bow, at a near-perfect 90° angle. Both found their marks in Lusitania’s forward holds and boiler room, and hidden boxes of ammunition ignited an explosion that nearly tore the forecastle from the hull. In just twenty minutes she was gone, leaving about 800 survivors out of 2000 onboard. Among the survivors were Lucy and her captain, William Thomas Turner, who had been swept off the bridge wing as it dipped below the surface. He was calling out to the lifeboats to fill more of their seats, but it was no use. The great liner sank so fast and at such a sharp heel to starboard it was impossible to launch many of the lifeboats. Without being released from the falls, they and their occupants were dragged under behind the ship. Nomadic was sent out to try and render assistance, but was stopped partway through the channel by Olympic, who approached as close to the shallows as she’d dared, and awaited the necessary passengers and mail for her westbound crossing. Work had to continue for the little tender.

By 1919 Olympic, Mauretania, and Aquitania were the only prewar liners still afloat and operating. Britannic, under the command of Olivia’s youngest sister Brittany, was mined in the Kea Channel in 1916 and sank with 31 deaths out of 1,063 onboard. The “Mediterranean Patroness” never saw a single voyage carrying passengers in a smart black, red and white livery like her sisters. In fact, Brittany had mysteriously vanished while on the Western Front, and no one knew where she’d gone.

Noelle had a lot on her mind now, which made keeping her schedule nearly impossible. Little incidents - groundings, dropped mail or luggage, even bumping into an approaching liner - became increasingly frequent and dangerous. It was only a matter of time when Nomadic would let a passenger walk off straight into the water, especially if Noelle kept her thoughts hidden behind a smile and a wave. Ironically, while the 1920s were White Star’s best years of operation, Nellie had some of the worst accidents in her entire decade of service.

The 1930s gave her no end of strain, either. Olivia and Margaret were both nearing 30 years old, and had become too expensive for the new Cunard-White Star Line to keep in service. Noelle was called away to Southampton on the day Olympic was to auction away her lavish furnishings, to give Old Reliable’s commander some form of closure. Olivia had had a good long run, so this would be a perfect time to finally rest her legs and let the tender take care of her. Olivia gave a hearty laugh at that last remark and said, “Lass, the least ye can do fer me, is promise you’ll keep the White Star shining.”

Nomadic led her big sister to Jarrow for the first half of the scrapping job, and helped nudge the liner into place at the pier before scurrying out of sight. Tabitha, who had spent as much time with Olivia as Noelle, was also heartbroken as she towed the half-scrapped hull of Olympic to Inverkeithing for final scrapping. On September 19, 1937, the last pieces of White Star’s poster girl were cut away and melted down. Olivia was taken to her home in London, where her paper trail currently runs cold.

A second World War ravaged the European continent, but this time Noelle played a more active role, serving the Royal Navy Reserve Fleet alongside a liner that came back from the depths of the Atlantic. Her actions in Operation Dynamo in the opening months of this conflict earned her a DSO from PM Winston Churchill and a Gold Medal of Honor from Paul Reynaud.

Description

(IMAGE CREDIT TO Teebsy-86 . Check out their other works!)

“Toppa th’mornin to ya! Need a hand with yer bags? Hup! Right this way, guv’na!”

Name: Noelle Megan Andrews
Alias: Nellie, Minnie

DOB: 10 March 1895
Current Residence: Belfast, Ireland

Height: 5’3”
Weight: 184lb
Hair: Brown
Eyes: Green

Employer: Oceanic Steam Navigation Company (White Star Line), Société Cherbourgeoise Transbordement, Société Cherbourgeoise de Remorquage et de Sauvetage, Titanic Belfast

Command: SS Nomadic, (Ingénieur Minard) Hull 422 of Harland and Wolff Shipbuilders, Belfast, Ireland

Noelle “Nellie” Megan Andrews is one of the lesser-sung heroes of the British shipping company White Star Line; her cousins the Carlisles were all stars of heroism and tragedy, leading the development of commercial liners by the example of their builders in Harland and Wolff.

Personality: Nellie is a bubbly, outgoing maiden. Her years of tendering has afforded her experience with dozens of ships of all shapes and sizes, and she’s never had a shortage of friends nearby to tease and joke around with. While she loves a good prank, though, she understands when work needs doing and takes it on with little fuss. If you catch her nearby tell her to keep up the good work.

Bio: Nellie was born in March 1895 to then-senior architect at H&W, Thomas Andrews Sr., and quickly became a regular sight at the shipyard close to her home. Often she would come bearing a sack of sandwiches she and her mother prepared in case a hapless worker forgot his lunch, and through fatherly connections she befriended the local barman Harold Flaherty. As his bar “Lager by the Lough” grew busier with the construction of hulls 400, 401 and 422, Nellie apprenticed as a waitress and with a shimmering white smile she floated about the restaurant floor bearing food and drink to the tavern’s customers.

When Nellie was about 16 years old, Hull 422 - christened as “Nomadic” - was completed and launched into the River Lagan. Hull 400, RMS Olympic, had been launched half a year before and was nearing completion in the newly-dredged Thompson Graving Dock. Olivia, the oldest of H&W chief engineer Alexander Carlisle’s three daughters, would command the new superliner. Hull 401, Titanic, was still on the gantry to rivet the final plates on her hull before her launch day.

Thomas Andrews Jr, Nellie’s brother, joined Nomadic’s maiden voyage to Cherbourg alongside the Olympic as she was registered in Liverpool. That same day Titanic’s hull slid into the Lagan and made ready for fitting out.

April 10, 1912 saw Noelle greet Anna, Olivia’s middle sister, off the coast of Cherbourg, France. The latter was in command of the soon-to-be-infamous RMS Titanic alongside Captain E. J. Smith. Tommy was onboard, as well as chairman Bruce Ismay. Nellie had sacks of mail from mainland Europe and passengers that booked First Class tickets for passage to New York, all of which was loaded onto Titanic for the crossing, and a parting whistle was the last time Noelle would see this elegant cousin for nearly 20 years, as the sun threw its final crimson rays to the horizon.

Six days after Titanic left Cherbourg at her tail, a somber Olivia steamed in and broke the terrible news to Noelle and her sister Tabitha: Titanic had hit an iceberg halfway to New York and sank with a large portion of the passengers and crew onboard, including Thomas Andrews.
The news utterly devastated the little dark-haired maiden, as she had loved Tommy and grew worried her cousin was killed as well; she was almost too demoralized to work at disembarking passengers and unloading mailbags and luggage.

Another two years passed like this, and once or twice a mailbag ended up in the harbor rather than Nomadic’s hold, as the news of Titanic’s loss - and Anna’s - still clung to her mind: ‘What had happened to her? Did she make it off in a boat? Was she left in the water to drown? Did someone pick her up?’ These questions and many others had spun her head faster than her screws could, and left her disoriented and utterly distracted. Tabitha, commander of the smaller SS Traffic, took up the slack as best she could. Yet with a large schedule of smaller steamers there was only so much the little tender could do. Then the Great War broke out.

All of the steamers preparing to depart were unloaded and subsequently mothballed, Olympic included. Lusitania and Mauretania were also mothballed, but due to their construction off of Royal Navy-influenced designs the pair still operated limited services. However, more tragic news would come.

May 8, 1915, Old Head of Kinsale, Ireland.

Lucy Tania, commander of her eponymous turbine-driven luxury liner, had been at sea for the past week. She could make the trip in only four days, but had to curtail her speed for coal shortages. But as morning became midday two white trails shot towards the starboard bow, at a near-perfect 90° angle. Both found their marks in Lusitania’s forward holds and boiler room, and hidden boxes of ammunition ignited an explosion that nearly tore the forecastle from the hull. In just twenty minutes she was gone, leaving about 800 survivors out of 2000 onboard. Among the survivors were Lucy and her captain, William Thomas Turner, who had been swept off the bridge wing as it dipped below the surface. He was calling out to the lifeboats to fill more of their seats, but it was no use. The great liner sank so fast and at such a sharp heel to starboard it was impossible to launch many of the lifeboats. Without being released from the falls, they and their occupants were dragged under behind the ship. Nomadic was sent out to try and render assistance, but was stopped partway through the channel by Olympic, who approached as close to the shallows as she’d dared, and awaited the necessary passengers and mail for her westbound crossing. Work had to continue for the little tender.

By 1919 Olympic, Mauretania, and Aquitania were the only prewar liners still afloat and operating. Britannic, under the command of Olivia’s youngest sister Brittany, was mined in the Kea Channel in 1916 and sank with 31 deaths out of 1,063 onboard. The “Mediterranean Patroness” never saw a single voyage carrying passengers in a smart black, red and white livery like her sisters. In fact, Brittany had mysteriously vanished while on the Western Front, and no one knew where she’d gone.

Noelle had a lot on her mind now, which made keeping her schedule nearly impossible. Little incidents - groundings, dropped mail or luggage, even bumping into an approaching liner - became increasingly frequent and dangerous. It was only a matter of time when Nomadic would let a passenger walk off straight into the water, especially if Noelle kept her thoughts hidden behind a smile and a wave. Ironically, while the 1920s were White Star’s best years of operation, Nellie had some of the worst accidents in her entire decade of service.

The 1930s gave her no end of strain, either. Olivia and Margaret were both nearing 30 years old, and had become too expensive for the new Cunard-White Star Line to keep in service. Noelle was called away to Southampton on the day Olympic was to auction away her lavish furnishings, to give Old Reliable’s commander some form of closure. Olivia had had a good long run, so this would be a perfect time to finally rest her legs and let the tender take care of her. Olivia gave a hearty laugh at that last remark and said, “Lass, the least ye can do fer me, is promise you’ll keep the White Star shining.”

Nomadic led her big sister to Jarrow for the first half of the scrapping job, and helped nudge the liner into place at the pier before scurrying out of sight. Tabitha, who had spent as much time with Olivia as Noelle, was also heartbroken as she towed the half-scrapped hull of Olympic to Inverkeithing for final scrapping. On September 19, 1937, the last pieces of White Star’s poster girl were cut away and melted down. Olivia was taken to her home in London, where her paper trail currently runs cold.

A second World War ravaged the European continent, but this time Noelle played a more active role, serving the Royal Navy Reserve Fleet alongside a liner that came back from the depths of the Atlantic. Her actions in Operation Dynamo in the opening months of this conflict earned her a DSO from PM Winston Churchill and a Gold Medal of Honor from Paul Reynaud.