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The story of Titanic, the brief wonder of her sailing and the tragedy of her sinking, is only a chapter in the saga of North Atlantic crossings. But it is also like a great novel written to us by history, a story of blind optimism and the consequences that followed it. It's compelling enough to inspire many novels, games and movies, all of which tell the same outcome. For the 112th anniversary of the disaster, I present this novelization of James Cameron's Academy Award winning disaster epic, which tells the story of a young woman wanting to be free from her gilded cage and a young man looking for a greater purpose in life.

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Once upon a time in 1845, two Englishmen, James Pilkington and Henry Threlfall Wilson, founded a brilliant shipping company called the White Star Line. It's purpose was to capitalize on the Australian gold rush by sailing passenger ships to the Southern Hemisphere. It's first acquired ship was Elizabeth and it's first built steamship was Royal Standard. But like so many others in the shipping trade, they had their share of bad luck. The Tayleur, which they described as "superior to any ship hitherto dispatched to the Australian colonies" ran aground off Lambay Island and sank on her maiden voyage in 1854 with the deaths of half the people on board. In 1863, the Lord Raglan vanished with 300 people. The following year, Royal Standard struck an iceberg on her return trip, but she managed to limp back home. And on top of everything else, the company was being driven to bankruptcy.

But that wasn't even the worst of it.

As late as the mid nineteenth century, ocean voyages were grim necessities instead of pleasure cruises. After his 1842 voyage from Liverpool, English author Charles Dickens called his Boston-bound ship "not unlike a gigantic hearse with windows in the sides". Of his bunk he wrote, "nothing smaller for sleeping in was ever made except coffins". American author Mark Twain was equally unimpressed with a similar mid-century voyage of his own. He complained of no place to smoke but in an ugly den with no seats. He wrote: "The seas broke in through the cracks every little while and drenched the cabin thoroughly." Even after commercial ships began to sail on fixed schedules, passengers endured cramped, unsanitary conditions for up to a month. Food was bad, disease was rampant and the sea was unpredictable. Of every hundred ships that would set sail, sixteen would never reach port. Some even disappearing without a trace. Some ships sank, like the Birkenhead, a troop carrier that went down off Cape Town with 454 drowned. A mid-Atlantic fire claimed 471 lives aboard the Austria, an emigrant ship bound for America. It wouldn't be until the invention of wireless communication that the vanishing of certain ships, like the City of Glasgow, would cease.

The North Atlantic may have been harsh, but the world was getting smaller. Travel and mail between Europe and North America were increasing. By the late nineteenth century, technology and ship design were advancing to meet these needs and shipbuilders focused on comfort, style and speed. With each advance, the transatlantic run took less time. Seeking to make the most of this trend, a 32-year-old Liverpool businessman named Thomas Henry Ismay legally incorporated the name, emblem and goodwill of the nearly-bankrupted White Star Line he bought in 1867 for one thousand pounds. Formerly the directors of the National Line, Ismay and his friend George Hamilton Fletcher saw the commercial possibilities of introducing superior, iron ships to the North Atlantic passenger trade. Fletcher, who also owned a fleet of sailing ships, served as the business force behind Ismay's visions. Their Oceanic Steam Navigation Company found the capital for a revitalized White Star Line in financial backer Gustav Schwabe, another Liverpudlian. Following a billiard game with Ismay, Schwabe arraigned the deal with one main stipulation: that Ismay work exclusively with the Belfast shipbuilding firm, Harland & Wolff, partly owned by Schwabe's nephew, Gustav Wolff. The following year, Ismay brought aboard another friend, William Imrie, whose father had been an early mentor in his career, and Oceanic Steam Navigation became Ismay, Imrie and Company. Thus prepared, the new White Star ordered six innovative liners. The first one was Oceanic and she sailed in March 1871. The remaining five were Baltic, Republic, Tropic, Asiatic and Atlantic. All were single-propeller, iron hulled liners. Within just a few years, Harland & Wolff began using steel instead of iron. As the technology advanced and the commercial liners needed more power, the number of propellers would increase to two and later three.

The new luxury liners were built for a new kind of passenger who can afford them. In their world, a dog arrived at a party in a fifteen thousand dollar diamond collar. An elegant dinner was served entirely on horseback. Newfound wealth found a new style during the Gilded Age, a name given by American author and social critic Mark Twain to the last three decades of the 19th century. The industrialized western world was secure and prosperous in the years following the American Civil War and the Franco-Prussian War. Poverty was still everywhere, but the growing middle class now enjoyed leisure time and the upper class flaunted it's wealth. The great minds of science and business were speeding up a pulsing, industrial beat that drowned out Mother Nature's slower, gentler rhythms. Progress was the new God for those who wanted to see results larger than life. Few thought about the consequences.

Such consequences lead to the building of safer ships. On April 1, 1873, the White Star liner Atlantic sank off the coast of Nova Scotia. Slowed by bad weather en route from Liverpool to New York; she was running low on coal. Captain James Wilson changed course for Halifax, but the ship ran onto Meagher's Rock in the middle of the night. During her quick sinking, half the lifeboats were washed away, and of her 952 passengers and crew, 560 died. Most of the survivors clung to the bow, which stayed above the surface. This was considered the worst North Atlantic shipping disaster to date.

As ships grew larger during the latter decades of the 19th century, more lives and bigger investments were at stake on a wild uncaring ocean that no human effort would ever be able to tame. Greater speed and power were necessary to keep up with the competition. Improved safety features were crucial to make sure that passengers, the most valuable payload of all, reached their destination alive and—if possible—with words of praise on their lips.

During the Gilded Age, bigger certainly was better in the war of commerce between shipbuilders. Increasing trade and immigration demanded ships that would accommodate both steerage passengers and the thrill seeking rich. In March 1887, Harland & Wolff laid the keels for two White Star ships that would be considered the first modern ocean liners: big, fast and comfortable, Teutonic and Majestic. 10,000 tons each would reach a speed of 20 knots, crossing the Atlantic in a mere seven-and-a-half-days. White Star's chief rivals, the British Cunard Line and the German Hamburg-America Line would have to rise to the challenge.

However...

Not everyone was optimistic about the industrial race towards the twentieth century. Morgan Robertson, an American writer and self-professed psychic, spun a cautionary tale in his 1898 novel Futility. He told of Titan, a huge ocean liner that struck a North Atlantic iceberg one April night, and sank with great loss of life. The name, size and speed of his ship were hauntingly similar to those of a liner that White Star would build eleven years later. This short novel, with it's title suggesting Mother Nature's opinion of Gilded Age values, was widely published in American magazines.

One American with no fear of progress was financier J. P. Morgan, a railroad tycoon who was both admired for his runaway success as a capitalist and vilified for his ruthless business ethics. The booming Atlantic passenger trade had caught his eye. After several years of investing in some of the German companies, he decided to expand further into the lucrative world of the British companies. To do this, he started a price war with the lines he already owned and then made attractive offers to those British, European and American lines that were losing money. His International Navigation Company, which began in 1893 with the purchase of the American, Inman and Red Star shipping lines, grew to become International Mercantile Marine after acquiring the Atlantic Transport, Leyland and Dominion lines. Morgan's desire to own a major British shipping enterprise focused on the White Star Line. In December 1902, he bought White Star for ten million pounds, ten times it's earnings in 1900. There had been early opposition from the Ismay family, which had built the line up from nothing and still held a controlling interest, but the sale eventually went through. It was an offer that the shareholders simply could not refuse. The liners continued to sail proudly under the Union Jack, but now an American hand rested heavily on the tiller.

Meanwhile, to secure British marine resources against such buyers like Morgan, the government approached Cunard with an offer. In exchange for making its ships available to the Royal Navy should there be a war, Cunard would receive access to a steady stream of government loans for its competition against White Star, Hamburg-Amerika and any other line that might edge its way to the front ranks of the shipping race. The unspoken objective was that, in times of peace and prosperity, this agreement would ensure Cunard's continuing participation in the British tax base. 

The White Star Line flourished with International Mercantile Marine's backing. One year after the purchase, J. P. Morgan offered White Star's director J. Bruce Ismay the position of managing director and president of IMM and it's subsidiaries. As the son of Thomas Henry Ismay, Bruce had taken charge of White Star four years earlier along with co-owners Harold Sanderson and Lord William J. Pirrie and impressed Morgan with his abilities and vision. By this time, Thomas had passed away and his partner William Imrie, retired from the board along with W.S. Graves and Bruce’s brother James. The influence of the Ismay family on transatlantic passenger trade had come a long way since Thomas first purchased a failing business for a mere thousand pounds.

In 1907, the Cunard Line amazed the world with two revolutionary ships: Lusitania and Mauretania. At 31,000 tons, their four turbine propellers could drive them across the Atlantic in less than five days at a speed of 28 knots. Mauretania would hold the record as the world's fastest liner for twenty years. Lusitania featured the unlimited elegance of Europe's great hotels, complete with beautifully appointed drawing rooms and plush lounges built by master craftsmen. Cunard now had the fastest British ship, an honor that once belonged to White Star's 25,000 ton Adriatic. The next step up in size and luxury would have to be something even more spectacular.

While Cunard had positioned itself for speed, White Star would astound the world with sheer spectacle. That same year, over a pleasant summer dinner in London, White Star's Bruce Ismay and Harland & Wolff's Lord William Pirrie conceived a new line of ships. They envisioned the largest moving objects ever made by man. Three liners to surpass both Cunard and their German rivals. At 45,000 tons, these ships would be fifty percent bigger and 100 feet longer than anything yet built, able to carry more passengers to America than ever before. These three liners would be constructed to lure the world's wealthiest travelers with their magnificence. They would be called Olympic, Titanic and Gigantic.

A year after these three new luxury liners were envisioned, signatures on a contract set the dream in motion. Bruce Ismay, Harold Sanderson and other ranking White Star members arrived in Belfast to review Harland & Wolff's construction plans for the three new wonder ships. Lord Pirrie presented the drawings assisted by his nephew and managing director Thomas Andrews. The contract, signed on July 31st, stated that Harland & Wolff would begin construction of two liners now and the third later. This agreement signaled an economic boom for Belfast, whose lifeblood was shipbuilding, and a higher profile for Southampton, fast becoming England's leading passenger port.

White Star encouraged Harland & Wolff's designers to pursue their vision of grandeur with no expense spared. The planners and draftsmen proposed huge liners whose passenger amenities would make them the most awesome vessels afloat. First Class passengers would make their dramatic entrances and exits on a sweeping grand staircase beneath an elegant dome of glass and iron. First and Second Class passengers would also have elevators to carry them between decks. The middle deck would feature a swimming pool for passenger fitness. A Turkish bath would make soothing relaxation possible, even on the high seas. The extravagance had to be obvious to all. Alexander Carlisle was the chief designer who oversaw this vision. After his retirement next year, it would be Thomas Andrews who would bring to life every detail of these ships.

The next generation of ocean liners moved from the draftsman's table to the real world of the shipworkers. To accommodate the building of these massive liners, Harland & Wolff had to convert three of their already enormous berths into two bigger ones. By the end of the year, they had built the tallest gantry ever, which towered over Belfast and laid Olympic's first keel plate beneath it. Its materials and equipment weighed over 6,000 tons, and it occupied a space 840 feet long by 270 feet wide. Between launching and sailing, the heavy lifting was handled by floating cranes, which were towering, hinged structures aboard specially counterweighted barges. This was the equipment that allowed the shipworkers to install enormous pieces such as the boilers and the funnels. They were hiring shipworkers in record numbers. The channel of the River Lagan had to be dredged to fifty feet for ships with a deeper draft. In Southampton, White Star arraigned for similar dredging. Meanwhile, Bruce Ismay was in America, doing whatever was necessary to ensure that the piers in New York Harbor would be long enough for his liners to dock.

When Ismay approached the Harbor Board with a request to extend International Mercantile Marine's docks, however, the board refused, citing it's concerns about navigational safety. Ismay then appealed to the business community, which obviously stood to gain from any increase in passenger traffic. The issue was taken to Washington D.C., where the War Department held the ultimate jurisdiction over all port access in the U.S. With some hard feelings in New York, IMM finally received permission to prepare for the arrival of its wonder ships.

On March 31, shipworkers laid Titanic's first keel plate next to Olympic. As construction continued, White Star prepared the world for the first passenger liners to exceed 40,000 tons; floating luxury hotels with pools, palm trees and no end of elegant detail. To evoke their mythic stature, Bruce Ismay had drawn his new ship's names from Greek mythology. Olympic was named for Mount Olympus, home of the gods. Titanic honored the Titans, powerful giants who challenged the gods, only to have their arrogance punished by a spectacular defeat. Ismay was obviously impressed by the Titans' size and strength, not their ultimate fate.

The Board of Trade, the British government agency that regulated commercial traffic, submitted a set of guidelines that Parliament passed as the Merchant Shipping Act of 1894. Among the articles was a requirement that the number of lifeboats carried should be based on the ship's weight and not a head count of the passengers and crew. So by 1909, all ships needed to carry lifeboats, but not everyone agreed on how many. Though final plans for Titanic and Olympic called for 16 boats each, plus four Engelhardt collapsible boats that could be stored more easily. They were designed by Harland and Wolff’s chief draughtsman Roderick Chisholm and built at the shipyard. Of the original 16, 14 were 30 feet long and, when fully provisioned, had a capacity of 65. These boats, 3 through 16, were attached to their davits and hung inward on the Boat Deck. Boats 1 and 2 were emergency cutters, seating 40 each. They were already attached to davits, but were swung out and ready to use in case, for instance, someone fell overboard. Collapsibles A through D, whose folding canvas sides allowed for easy deck storage, could each hold 47 people. A and B were lashed to the roof of the Deck House, or officer’s quarters near the fore end of the Boat Deck, while C and D were stored under the davits for Boats 1 and 2. All were made of wood and equipped with oars, a detachable mast and a sail. Designer Alexander Carlisle originally saw 48 and possibly even 64 boats per ship, using new davits by the Welin company. Bruce Ismay was not interested in erring on the side of safety and disagreed with Carlisle, claiming that 48 lifeboats would take up too much deck space and cause passengers to worry. The new ships were as good as lifeboats themselves, and the possible needs for the smaller craft would be rescuing a person who fell overboard, or at the worst, carrying passengers between ships in the case of some mid-ocean emergency (presumably a problem with the other ship). Since Ismay was the customer (and the kind who didn't want good deck space wasted on unnecessary precaution), Carlisle was not about to argue with him. In the end, 20 boats, with a total of 1,178 seats were considered adequate for 3,547 passengers and crew. In fact, Titanic and Olympic would actually exceed the outdated British Board of Trade requirements by 17%. But there still weren't enough lifeboats to accommodate every passenger. 

On May 31st, 1911, Lord and Lady Pirrie, both celebrating birthdays, hosted a group of distinguished visitors in Belfast for the launch of Titanic and the completion of Olympic. The guests included J. Bruce Ismay, IMM owner J. P. Morgan, White Star director Harold Sanderson, and former White Star partner W.S. Graves. After being received at the shipyard office, they moved to a specially built grandstand that was set apart from the thousands of people who came to witness the historic moment. Aided by twenty three tons of soap, tallow and train oil spread on the slipway, the ship slid easily into the River Lagan, reaching 12 knots and coming to a gentle stop one minute later. She was then towed to the fitting-out basin for completion. In spite of the red flag hoisted on the stern, two rockets and an eight-minute warning, shipwright James Dobbin had been fatally injured by a falling support he was knocking out during Titanic's launch, which pinned his leg. Unaware of the mishap, White Star officials celebrated over lunch, accepted the now completed Olympic and sailed her to Liverpool to begin her maiden voyage.

It was quite odd to some, however, that neither of the ships were christened.

White Star was a modern company that had little interest in such time-honored ceremonies as beginning each launch with a christening. No one broke a champagne bottle across the bow. Instead, Harland & Wolff's managing director Charles A. Payne, at a nod from Lord Pirrie, signaled a few foremen to open a release valve. The spectacle of the event was watching the massive hull slide into the River Lagan while the crowd cheered and nearby ships tooted their horns and sirens. The superstitious wondered if there would someday be dire consequences for launching ships without a gesture of divine protection. The pragmatic simply shrugged and said, "They just builds 'em and shoves 'em in."

As for Dobbin, his friends dragged him to safety at the last moment and the foreman included him in the head count. But Dobbins was in no condition to celebrate the launch. He was taken by ambulance to Belfast's Royal Victoria Hospital, and died the next day from contusions and shock. He was 43.

Additionally, the launch of Titanic was met with skepticism by an editor at the Irish News and Belfast Morning News. He reminded his readers what Zeus had done to the enormous Titans when they challenged the gods. "He smote the strong and daring Titans with thunderbolts; and their final abiding place was in some limbo beneath the lowest depths of the Tartarus." This editorial went on to wonder why an image-conscious shipbuilder would name such a magnificent creation after a group of giants who "symbolized the vain efforts of mere strength to resist to ordinances of the more 'civilized' order established by Zeus, their triumphant enemy." The irony of these words would soon ring with a terrible echo...

Olympic sailed on her maiden voyage from Southampton on June 14, 1911, and arrived in New York on June 21. Rated for a top speed of 21 knots, she came nowhere near the 25-knot records being set by Mauretania and Lusitania. White Star's intention was that its wonder ships be more luxurious than Cunard's, not faster.

During the latter's outfitting, Olympic and Titanic were identical in almost every way, but after Olympic's completion, Thomas Andrews undertook several improvements to make Titanic even more luxurious than her sister ship. More First Class staterooms were added to the spacious A Deck. The forward section of the First Class Promenade was enclosed with plate glass windows to protect strolling passengers from spray thrown up by the bow. The only real technical change involved the Wireless Room, which received extra soundproofing to keep the operators from being distracted by activity on the Boat Deck.

Like the Olympic, Titanic's safety features set new standards for marine technology. Harland & Wolff had given Titanic a double plated keel and a system of watertight compartments that would allow any two of them to flood without sinking the ship. These fifteen watertight compartments were the areas on the lowest deck of the ship, divided by lateral steel walls called bulkheads. The compartments ranged in length from 50 to 60 feet. Alternately, towards the front of the ship, she would be safe, if any three of the first five compartments were to flood. Even in a worse case scenario, if every single one of the first four compartments were to fill with water, the ship could conceivably stay afloat. Should the hull ever be punctured in one or more places, electric watertight doors would close automatically. The doors were operated using a drop system, held in open position by a friction clutch, and closed by an electromagnetic impulse that released the clutch. The door would then slide down its track, sealing the hatchway between compartments. This system could operate in three separate ways. The method most talked about was by an electric switch on Titanic's bridge, which could be closed at the discretion of a ship's officer. This switch specifically closed only the doors that were vertical. There was also an operating lever in the compartment, to be used by an on-site crew member who might require the door to close. The vertical watertight doors also had to be closed by hand. Finally, a float beneath the floor plates of each compartment would lift in the event of flooding, releasing the clutch automatically if the door had not already been closed intentionally. Once closed, a watertight door would have to be re-opened manually. Powerful pumps, capable of flushing out 4 tons per minute, would empty each flooding compartment long before water could reach the gaps between the top of the bulkheads and the ceiling plates. The only flaw in the system was that the bulkheads did not reach the ceiling plates. Titanic's designers believed that the water level in any compartment would never rise high enough to spill over into the next one. The Shipbuilder, a shipbuilding and marine engineering magazine, published a special edition in Midsummer, 1911 that celebrated White Star's huge new ships, describing their assumed invulnerability in the following quote, which was frequently misquoted and led to a popular misconception about the two ships:

"Each door is held in the open position by a suitable friction clutch, which can be instantly released by means of a powerful electro-magnet controlled from the captain's bridge, so that in the event of accident, or at any time when it may be considered advisable, the captain can, by simply moving an electric switch, instantly close the doors throughout and make the vessel practically unsinkable."

In the public mind, this was as good as just plain "unsinkable".

Expectations for Titanic now ran even higher. 

But...

Even unsinkable ships can have accidents. On September 20, 1911, Olympic left Southampton on her fifth voyage. She had just made the difficult double-turn around Calshot Spit and a bank called the Bramble when she passed the Royal Navy cruiser HMS Hawke, which suddenly veered toward her and rammed her midships on the starboard side. Hawke's bow thrusted eight feet into the vast hull, tearing a forty foot gash below the waterline and nearly capsized. The new liner lay paralyzed at Osborne Bay off the Isle of Wright, waiting until the tide turned and she could make her way back to Southampton. Her passengers were taken off by tender and her voyage was cancelled. Olympic was towed to Belfast for repairs, arriving at Harland & Wolff on October 6th. Her repairs called for the replacement of a damaged starboard propeller crankshaft with one that was to be used on Titanic. Titanic still sat in the fitting-out basin, her labor and materials temporarily diverted by Olympic's emergency. In the naval inquiry following this incident, naval engineers determined that water displacement caused by the huge vessel had swept the much smaller boat into it's wake. Nautical Magazine, the mouthpiece for British merchant marine officers, sneered at the water tank simulations as engineers playing with bathtub toys "in pleasant remembrance of younger days." However, the Admiralty court found Olympic at fault. Since she was under the command of a harbor pilot at the time, the captain and chief officer were exonerated of any blame. Work on Olympic delayed Titanic's scheduled maiden voyage by three weeks. Because of this and a previous accident with a smaller vessel, some suggested that the new ships were just too big.

Of course, the Hawke wasn't Olympic's only close call. On June 21st, 1911, arriving in New York on her maiden voyage, Olympic was escorted to IMM's pier on the North River by 12 tugboats. The one near her stern, O.L. Hallenbeck, was sucked against the Olympic by a reverse turn of her starboard propeller, intended by the pilot to help steer the ship. The huge blade cut off Hallenbeck's own stern, rudder, wheel shaft and all. The tugboat's owner sued, White Star countersued, the press had a good laugh at Hallenbeck's expense, and no one was able to prove anything. The following year, on February 2, 1912, en route from New York to Southampton, Olympic threw a propeller blade in mid-Atlantic. One of the huge screws came loose from its mounting and went spinning into the depths. The ship completed her voyage safely, although at a slower speed than anyone would prefer. After unloading passengers and cargo, she went back to Harland and Wolff for repair in dry dock. The work completed, Olympic returned to service on March 4, nearly grounding on a mudbank on her way out of Belfast. Fortunately, there was no damage this time.

To the people of Belfast, the wonder ships that rose above the local skyline were the pride of their city. Harland & Wolff employed nearly 15,000 men, most of whom had bent their backs in labor over Olympic and Titanic. Although the work was hard, hours long, vacations few and they certainly couldn't afford a first class passage on the ships they built, the men and their families felt a personal attachment to these great liners. For these craftsmen, there was no greater satisfaction than to have the eyes of the world rest admiringly upon their work. According to one shipworker at Harland & Wolff, daily life there during the construction of the wonder ships was hard, but worth it.

"It was a nine-hour day, forty-nine hour working week. Working these hours a tradesman might earn £2 a week and if he worked all night Friday and all day Saturday he could boost his earnings up to £5. There were no special amenities or modern facilities such as canteens and showers."

Other than Sundays, the only holidays that the men received were two days at Christmas, two at Easter, and a week in July. All holidays were unpaid. This included launch days, which some might see as a time of celebration, or a moment to admire a job well done. "What it really meant was that some married men's families had to endure a certain amount of hardship (the loss of a day's pay), people being so poor and money and work and being so scarce." As a safety precaution, but certainly added hardship to some workers, no smoking was allowed anywhere in the yard.

On March 31, 1912, Titanic, the world's largest ship, was completed. Her eight hundred and eighty two foot hull was built than more of two thousand inch-thick steel plates held together by more than three million rivets. Two massive anchors would hold her in place, one for each side with a third stored in reserve on the forecastle. Twenty nine boilers would drive her two colossal reciprocating engines and single turbine, generating up to forty six thousand horsepower. Her two wing propellers had three blades each, with a full diameter of twenty three and a half feet. The central, turbine propeller had a sixteen and a half foot diameter. The blades of the outer screws were made of bronze, and the inner screw of manganese bronze. The bosses, or rings that turned on the shafts, were made of cast steel. Her displacement weight was fifty two thousand three hundred and ten tons, even more than Olympic. The cost of building and fully equipping Titanic had come to one-point-five million pounds or seven-point-five million dollars, nearly one hundred and twenty five million dollars by today's standards. The White Star Line anticipated a quick and glorious return on it's investment.

Two days after her completion, Titanic's officers conducted her sea trials in Belfast Loch. They practiced making turns with this huge new ship, then steamed her out towards the North Channel, practice more turns and bring her back after four and a half hours. Satisfied with her performance, the officials at Harland & Wolff proclaimed Titanic fit to sail. Bruce Ismay accepted her on behalf of the White Star Line. At 8:00 p.m., the largest ship in the world left Belfast for Southampton.

One of these officers, a Mr. Charles H. Lightoller, was notably impressed with Titanic's powerful mechanics.

"After running our trials we finally took over from the builders and proceeded round to Southampton. It was clear to everybody on board that we had a ship that was going to create the greatest stir British shipping circles had ever known. For one thing she was the first ship to be fitted with a third screw, driven by a low-powered turbine. For maneuvering, the two wing screws alone were used, but once clear of the land, steam from low-pressure cylinders was turned into this turbine, and undoubtedly gave her a wonderful turn of speed."

At midnight on April 3rd, after steaming down Britain's west coasts and passing her sister ship Olympic at sea, Titanic arrived at the White Star dock in Southampton. She would have a week to prepare for her maiden voyage. White Star began to recruit most of the necessary crew members on Saturday, April 6th. They would take on about 900 people, including a deck crew of over fifty, nearly 100 stokers, 35 engineers and 300 stewards and stewardesses.

Of all these people, 699 gave Southampton as their home address. Most were men, although 23 of the nearly 300 stewards were female. The people who worked aboard the ship were assigned to one of three departments: Deck, Engine, or Victualling.

The Deck Department's 66 members included the captain and navigation officers, quartermasters, boatswains, lamp trimmers, the surgeon, carpenters, and able-bodied seamen. This last group (A.B.'s for short) had a different set of duties on a steamship than their counterparts on a sailing ship. With the business of moving the ship through the water handled mostly by the Engine Department, the A.B.'s were more like general custodians. They mopped decks, touched up paint, coiled and tied ropes, and generally performed any maintenance tasks that were necessary in the ship's exterior regions.

The Engine Department's 326 members included engineers, electricians, greasers, trimmers, and stokers. It was their job to run and maintain everything mechanical and electrical about the ship. Because of all the coal dust and machine oil in their working environments, especially those who worked with the furnaces, they were commonly known as the "black gang."

The Victualling Department employed the remaining 500 or so people whose job titles fit neither of the above categories. In addition to the obvious waiters, cooks, chefs, bakers, and scullions, there were also stewards and stewardesses, the purser and his staff, barbers, clerks, elevator operators, and even the men who worked in the Marconi wireless room.

Notably absent from this list are the musicians. They were contract labor, paid four pounds per month by their booking agency, and traveling on Titanic as Second Class passengers. Because their agency expenses were so high, the musicians depended on passenger tips for their livelihood. The shipboard restaurants and the barber shop were run as concessions, their workers officially paid only one shilling as a token of their responsibility to the Captain. Otherwise, passengers paid them directly for their services.

Of those in the Victualling Department who received regular wages, butchers and bakers earned from 4 pounds, 10 shillings to 6 pounds per voyage. The scullions were paid £3.10, the cooks £4.10 to £7, depending on their duties, and the head chef made £20 per voyage. First Class stewards were paid £3.15, while the stewardesses were never paid more than £3.10. The chief steward received £20. The senior wireless operator was paid £4-5 for his efforts, and the junior wireless operator received £2.2 and sixpence.

In the Engine Department, wages ran slightly higher. Trimmers earned £5.10, stokers £6.0, greasers and leading stokers £6.10. Assistant electricians were paid £8, most engineers earned £8.10 up to £11.10, and the chief engineer brought in £35 per voyage.

Most of the rank-and-file Deck Department were valued at a five-pound wage. The sixth officer would be paid eight pounds while the chief officer earned 25. The rest of the officers' rates ranged between these two amounts.

That same Saturday, the first of the cargo arrived at the dock for loading. There would be 559 tons in all, including practical items like textiles, machinery and furniture, as well as more unusual things such as anchovies, golf balls, tennis balls and ostrich feathers.

For Titanic to sail, she needed coal: 5,892 tons of it. Normally, this would be easy. However, the coal miners of England were organizing to improve their collective situation. On January 12, 1912, they voted to strike for a minimum wage. Mine owners and government officials, recognizing the far-reaching effects of such an action, managed to placate the union for a few weeks. However, after talks with Prime Minister Asquith broke down, the workers left their jobs on February 22nd. Shipping, rail lines and much industry were at a near standstill. To ensure that it's massive new liner would have enough coal to sail on schedule, the White Star Line cancelled two other ship's departures and bought coal from outside sources. Because of the strike, there was no money coming into the many local households that earned their living from the sea. When Titanic would finally steam out of the River Test, three quarters of her crew would be Southampton residents. Even though the strike was settled on April 6th, it took days for the mining and processing of coal to catch up with England's needs.

For the crew who had signed on to sail the ship and serve her passengers, Titanic was unlike anything they had seen. A few had worked on Olympic, but to everyone else, it was a challenge to remember names and locations on so big a ship, as Charles Lightoller once said:

"It is difficult to convey any idea of the size of a ship like the Titanic, when you could actually walk miles along decks and passages, covering different ground all the time. I was thoroughly familiar with pretty well every type of ship afloat, from a battleship and a barge, but it took me fourteen days before I could with confidence find my way from one part of that ship to another by the shortest route. A sailor does not walk round with a plan in his pocket, he must carry his ship in his head, and in an emergency such as fire must be able to get where he wants by sheer instinct—certainly without a chance of getting lost on the way."

Violet Jessop, a stewardess already familiar with the Olympic, was thrilled that designer Thomas Andrews asked some stewards how he could make Titanic even more comfortable than Olympic.

"It was quite unusual for members of the catering department to be consulted about changes that would benefit their comforts or ease their toil," she once said. "So when the designer Thomas Andrews paid us this thoughtful compliment, we realized it was a great privilege; our esteem for him, already high, knew no bounds."

Captain Edward J. Smith boarded Titanic on Sunday. The very soul of grace and confidence, his pleasant attitude and pristine record made him the ideal commander. Crew members respected him and wealthy passengers went out of their way to sail with him. Some had even switched their bookings to Titanic when learning that he would be in command. In a 1907 interview, he explained why passengers and crew felt safe under his command:

"When anyone asks me how I can best describe my experiences in nearly 40 years at sea, I merely say, uneventful. Of course, there have been winter gales, and storms and fog and the like, but in all my experience I have never been in any accident of any sort worth speaking about. I have seen but one vessel in distress in all my years at sea - a brig, the crew of which were taken off in a small boat in charge of my third officer. I never saw a wreck and have never been wrecked, nor was I ever in any predicament that threatened to end in disaster of any sort. You see, I am not very good material for a story."

Smith began his life far from the sea; he was the son of a potter turned grocer in Handley, Stoke-on-Trent. At age 12, he went to work at a local forge, but it was a bad time for the iron industry. For this, he decided to travel to Liverpool when he was 14, signing on to the merchant clipper ship of which his half-brother Joseph was captain. From that moment on, the sea was his life. He joined White Star in 1880 as Fourth Officer on the Celtic and first sailed as captain aboard Republic in 1887. In 1895, he served as captain of the Majestic for up to five years and during the Boer War, he safely transported troops to South Africa and King Edward himself awarded him with the Transport Medal. Following his career as captain aboard the Baltic and the Adriatic, he was awarded the Decoration for Officers of the Royal Naval Reserve. It was just recently that he was commissioned to Olympic. Now, after thirty-two years and more than two million ocean miles of White Star, after achieving the rank of commodore at more than double the salary of his counterparts on the Cunard Line, the 62-year-old captain was planning to retire when Titanic returned from New York.

Captain Smith's favoritism among his officers, saw a positive reception from Charles Lightoller.

"Captain Smith, or “E.J.” as he was familiarly and affectionately known, was quite a character in the shipping world. Tall, full whiskered and broad. At first sight you would think to yourself “Here’s a typical Western Ocean Captain.” “Bluff, hearty, and I’ll bet he’s got a voice like a foghorn.” As a matter of fact, he had a pleasant quiet voice and invariable smile. A voice he rarely raised above a conversational tone—not to say he couldn’t; in fact, I have often heard him bark an order that made a man come to himself with a bump. He was a great favourite, and a man any officer would give his ears to sail under."

As the highest-paid, most prestigious captain of the White Star Line, Edward J. Smith was free to make the best possible choices for the navigation officers who would be under his immediate command on Titanic's maiden voyage. Chief Officer William Murdoch, First Officer Charles Lightoller and Second Officer David Blair, Smith's first selection of senior officers were drawn from the ranks of men with whom he had sailed on previous voyages. Third Officer Herbert Pitman had been with White Star for five years. So had Fourth Officer Joseph Boxhall, an ambitious young man who quickly became Smith's favorite. Fifth Officer Harold Lowe, although he had been with White Star only a year and had never crossed the Atlantic, had proven himself on ships that served the west coast of Africa. Sixth Officer James Moody was a recent graduate of a navigational school in London.

A week before sailing, Captain Smith decided that Titanic would be better served by someone familiar with her sister ship. He requested that Olympic's Chief Officer Henry Wilde be transferred to the new liner for her first round trip. This reassignment moved Murdoch down to First Officer, Lightoller down to Second Officer, and David Blair off Titanic. Blair described his reaction in the following letter:

"Arrived on Titanic from Belfast today. Am afraid I shall have to step out to make room for Chief Officer of the Olympic who was going in command but so many ships laid up he will have to wait. Hope eventually to get back to this ship... Been home all day and down on board tonight on watch. This is a magnificent ship, I feel very disappointed I am not to make the first voyage."

Over the next three days, more luggage came, and more and more passengers booked their tickets. It would soon be a week to remember.

Chapter Text

Wednesday, April 10th.

Titanic was just about ready for her maiden voyage. It was to begin at noon and the sailing hour was drawing near. After years of advanced publicity and with the sheer size and elegance of it's liners, White Star had at last created the spectacle it desired. Throughout the morning, Southampton was filled with sightseers, blackening the pier next to Titanic like ants on a jelly sandwich. The waterfront was lined with onlookers and well-wishers. Photographers and news reporters were everywhere, including one reporter from the Southampton Pictorial, who wrote:

"Through Titanic, the world's last word in shipbuilding construction, has not been open to inspection by the general public since her arrival in Southampton from Belfast, hundreds of sightseers have visited the docks to catch a glimpse of the leviathan as she lies moored in the new wet dock at the same berth occupied by her sister Olympic. Perhaps the most striking features of the great inert mass of metal are the four giant funnels - huge tawny brown and black capped elliptical cylinders of steel which tower 175 feet from the keel plate, dominating the other shipping in the port, and dwarfing into insignificance the sheds on the quayside."

At 10:00 a.m., White Star's chartered boat train from Waterloo Station pulled up next to Titanic. In addition to travelers from London, the train also carried people from Liverpool whose ship's had been docked by the coal strike. All began to board the ship from special gangways that connected directly to the railway carriages in an arraignment similar to the boarding gates of modern airports. This convenience cost the passengers an extra two pounds above their ticket price and helped Purser Hugh McElroy board the passengers in a more orderly manner. Titanic's range of passengers was like a cross-section of the Edwardian society that had made her possible. Whether they were magnets and heirs, happy to spend thousands of pounds on a transatlantic jaunt, or humble people who had earned their passage to America and the shops and mills of the wealthy, all were ready to entrust their lives to Titanic for the next week.

Among these wealthy magnates was the American William Carter, travelling with his wife and children. A dock crane was lowering his new burgundy Renault into the cargo hold through hatch number two. The car was loaded into a huge crate, and those who saw it from below could only guess what the contents were.

Also boarding was 45 year old Hugh Woolner, son of the late Sir Thomas Woolner, a noted sculptor. He was an independently wealthy resident of London and one of six men to escort the famous feminist author Helen Churchill Candee for the voyage. She was returning home to be with her son who was injured in an airplane accident and they were to meet her at the next stop.

There was also Dr. Washington Dodge, a 51 year old medical doctor and later president of the Federal Wireless Company in San Francisco travelling with his second wife Ruth Vidaver and their four year old son Washington Jr.

Isidor Straus, 67 year old co-owner of Macy’s and his 63 year old wife Ida also came aboard. They had been vacationing in Europe with their daughter Beatrice, who was making other arraignments for returning home.

Most of the dock was filled to the brim with steerage passengers, with an officer shouting above the din and directing them to their proper places.

"All Third Class passengers with a forward berth! This way please!"

One family, the brown-haired Cartmells, consisting of Father, Mother and little girl Cora, were off to America in search of a better life, a life of golden opportunity, fresh air and plenty of jobs to find. Life in Manchester was, well, let's just say not very comfortable. The family patriarch Bert, was amazed as much as everyone else was.

"Big boat, ain't it?" he asked as he carried his 5 year old daughter in his arms.

"Daddy, it's a ship," Cora corrected, in spite of her age.

"She's right, you know," his wife Bernice smiled. She was proud of how smart her daughter was.

Then out of the blue came a trio of fancy looking cars that drew the Cartmell's attention. They consisted of a white Renault, a Daimler-Benz and a red Rambler Four. The grey uniformed driver of the white car stepped out from his seat and opened the door. He offered his right hand and out from it stepped a white glove, attached to a cream striped afternoon suit and a royal lavender hat that came out of a Les Modes magazine. The woman wearing it was beautiful all right, regal of bearing with red hair, rose cheeks and piercing green eyes; not Irish, but American (Feel free to compare her with Audrey Hepburn's performance as Eliza Doolitte). Her name? Rose DeWitt Bukater.

Rose was born in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania on April 5th, 1895, just around the same time Oscar Wilde lost his libel case against the Marquess of Queensberry. Growing up like a princess, she blossomed from an infant, to a little girl, to a beautiful young woman, and her lovely house in Philadelphia was all the kingdom she needed. Her father Robert made sure that she never missed out on anything that life had to offer and with all the money they had, they, but mostly he, spent it like there was no tomorrow. Sometimes she played with dolls and had tea parties, but when she turned eight, she wanted to do more out of life, like climbing trees, riding a bike and playing softball with the boys, and her father even taught her to respect others regardless of their stations, from the servants that obeyed their every whim, to the less fortunate citizens of their home town.

In short, Rose had a much closer relationship with her father even more so than her mother Ruth, to whom she had inherited her red hair from. Ruth was a woman who lived by old rules and ruled the DeWitt Bukater household with an iron will. Whenever Robert was away on business at the steel works that he shared with the Hockley family, Ruth would spend most of her time relentlessly molding Rose into the proper debutante she was destined to become. Rose found these lessons in manners, etiquette and even social graces to be painful and boring, but she was willing learn at least a few of these practices. Ruth considered it best for Rose to learn said practices as she often told her a few times that a woman who would grow up to be a tomboy had little chance for a respectable future.

So Rose tried to find time to balance her parents' influence by choosing to become her own woman, but just when it seemed like life was perfect for her, everything began to change. It was Rose's sixteenth birthday, and it had started out as the best day of her life. Naturally, because when you turned sixteen, it was officially the year you became a full-fledged woman. Her schoolmates were there, the Carters were there, young Jack Thayer and his folks were there, as well as the Wideners, (whom they would run into on Titanic), even the servants celebrated by delivering the cake.

But for some strange reason, her father was nowhere to be seen.

Rose was about to blow out the candles, wishing for a better life, when she finally found out why her father wasn't there. Being a man who liked to spend his money on one too many drinks, card games and other licit things, he had died from consumption. The doctors said it was the alcohol. Ruth hardly ever spoke about her free-range lout of a husband after that.

As Robert didn't find the time to leave a will, everything was automatically transferred to Rose and Ruth, including, to their dismay, a huge pile of bad debts that would nearly drive them to bankruptcy. To be precise, the total cost of the debts was about 1.5 million dollars. These debts included bad investments, business setbacks, gambling operators, card sharks with an IOU and even a few taxes that needed to be paid off by the end of the year or the house would be threatened with eviction. After about five weeks, Ruth snapped out of mourning and into action. She paid off all of the debts, but didn't stop there; the life of a poor widow was simply too unfathomable for her, and she was determined to forward Rose's entrance and win back her money and lavish lifestyle, by marrying her off with someone who was rich, tall, dark and obnoxious...

...that of the 30 year old steel tycoon heir Caledon Hockley, or Cal for short, who was the son of Robert's partner Nathan Hockey. Nathan and his wife Nadine were also interested in finding a perfect match for their son so that Cal could inherit his millions, and Rose seemed to match his desired description. Rose had never really met Cal personally, but when the day of her cotillion came, on the Fourth of July of all days (and a very dreadful day in which all of Ruth's remaining funds were virtually drained), he walked up to her, offered her hand like a perfect gentleman and said:

"Your prince has come at last."

Rose had to admit that she did find Cal charming at first, but as the days and outings with Cal went by she began to see something dark, something wicked and conceited about this man. It seemed as though that every time she was him, her soul felt like it was being sucked down a giant plughole that led her to being chained to a pedestal on the top of Hockley Manor and every time she would beg her mother to marry someone who would understand her better, Ruth would say:

"It will be a fine match with Hockley. His family has enough money to ensure our survival."

With Cal on her side, Ruth would see to it that her daughter always dressed in the latest styles, kept her hair perfectly groomed, knew her place, her posture impeccably perfect and molded into the perfect society girl and she couldn't wait to get started. Fortunately for her, no one knew about the cotillion's budget depriving her of her last millions and she knew that if the marriage didn't go through, the family's fall from grace would become public knowledge. Not that Rose ever cared. She felt like throwing up for a thousand years when she learned on New Year's Day, that she and Cal were due to be married on the spring solstice in May. To prepare for the wedding, 500 invitations were sent out to everybody on the Philadelphia elite, the bridesmaids and groomsmen were selected and Cal invited Rose and Ruth on a voyage to Paris, France via RMS Mauretania for a shopping trip.

At least I'll get to see what France is like, Rose thought to herself.

So after a week on last year's Greyhound of the Sea, miserably predicting her future as the arm candy to a selfish man who was more concerned about getting his hands on his inheritance than treating his fiancée like a human being, Rose, Ruth and their personal maids, Trudy Bolt and Theresa Baxter, toured the many sights of Paris along with Cal and his valet Spicer Lovejoy, whose surname was anything but love or joy. In fact, he was a very stern and taciturn man who had once served in the Pinkerton Detective Agency, complete with a humble background in railroad security. Almost twenty years ago, Nathan hired him to look after Cal after he caught him on a fall's night crawling through the less reputable parts of Philadelphia to see some prostitutes.

Anyway, by touring the city, Rose meant touring the many dress shops and clothing stores, and her seventeenth birthday wasn't much fun as all the previous ones. Now they were heading home via Titanic in a deluxe "millionaire's suite", curtesy of Mr. Joseph Bruce Ismay, who was more than happy to share his cabin, the B-52-54-56 parlor suite. The Hockley Steel Company was a well-respected client of Harland & Wolff and White Star, and the company also provided steel platings for the wonder ships. Cal thought of it as such a great honor that as soon as he and the DeWitt-Bukater entourage arrived in Paris, he wrote a letter to Ismay, asking to book a parlor suite for the voyage ahead of time. Two days later, Ismay, having recently seen his own daughter getting married, agreed. Another reason was compensation, his wife Florence and his other children were neglecting to travel on Titanic in favor of a yachting holiday around Scotland’s Western Isles. On April 9th, they left Paris and took a ferry to Dover where they would drive in three cars to Southampton. Even so, Rose was less than enthusiastic to be sharing a cabin with the president of a shipping corporation as she was to be co-occupying it with her fiancée.

She was even less than enthusiastic when she saw Titanic for the first time. But all the same, she met the ship with cool appraisal.

"I don't see what all the fuss is about," she said, turning to Cal who had gotten out of the car. "It's exactly the same as the Olympic and it doesn't even look any bigger than the Mauretania."

Cal, who had picked a dull grey suit with an ill-fitting brown bowler, just chuckled.

"Rose, you are much too hard to impress. It may be the same as Olympic, but it's over a hundred feet longer than Mauretania, and far more luxurious. It has squash courts, a Parisian cafe...even Turkish baths."

Ruth, who had fittingly picked out an emerald, green dress for the occasion, stepped out of the car, taking Cal's right hand. She greeted her soon-to-be-son-in-law with a smile before repeated what she had overheard.

"A Turkish bath? That's where I'm going to be until my skin becomes as strong as living marble."

"Too late for that, Mother," Rose muttered under her breath.

Thankfully, Ruth was more interested in Titanic herself.

"Mind your step," warned Cal as he saved Ruth from stepping into a puddle.

After avoiding that little stain of steam water, Ruth took a good look at Titanic for herself and said.

"So this is the ship they say is unsinkable."

"It is unsinkable," Cal answered. "God himself could not sink this ship."

Rose had heard a ton of, what she considered, outlandish critiques on Olympic and Titanic's invulnerability, both on the street and in the papers. It was all the rage.

"The Titanic is unsinkable."

"Only God could sink this ship."

"She's the grandest ship man ever built."

"We won't sink! This is the 20th century!"

Perhaps another trait that made Rose a different person above the rest was the fact that she was also a bit of a realist who thought about the consequences. Sometimes, she wished the world would wake up from it's blind optimism and see things from her eyes. The sad and grey clouds that covered the bright blue sky seemed to reflect her current mood.

While she and her mother went to take a slightly closer look at the ship, a porter came up to Cal and said.

"Sir, if you want to check your baggage through the main terminal, it's round that way."

Cal was not the least bit interested. His whole plan was to make himself look charming in front of his in-laws, so he gave the man five dollars, telling him:

"I'd rather put my faith in you, good sire, you can discuss things over with my manservant."

And he gestured his right arm to Lovejoy. He pointed to the following bags.

"These trunks here, and 12 more in the Daimler. We'll have all this lot up in the rooms. Specifically, the accommodations of Mr. Ismay: B-52-54-56."

The porter was so stricken by the enormous pile of steamer trunks and suitcases, along with a few wooden crates and a steel safe, that he whistled frantically for some cargo handlers nearby, who came running to his aid.

Watching them scramble, Cal checked his silver pocket watch. The time read 10:30 a.m. Only about an hour and thirty minutes before departure.

"Ladies," he said to Rose and Ruth. "We'd better hurry."

And so, the entire entourage of rich Americans, impeccably dressed in their finest, walked towards the first-class gangway, moving into the crowd with the maids hustling behind them. Rose almost felt a chill and thought of her nice warm coat. She turned around, asking Trudy.

"My coat?"

"I have it, miss."

Rose sighed, feeling relaxed. But the less could be said about her exact feelings of the vessel that everyone called the Ship of Dreams. To her, it was a slave ship that was taking her back to Philadelphia in chains. She felt like screaming and turning the other direction to run away, but she reminded herself to look forward to the best of things in her married life...like serving as a love toy to a pompous bastard.

With Cal leading the way, the party weaved through vehicles and handcarts, hurrying passengers, well-wishers and a horse-drawn carriage pulling two tons of Oxford marmalade for Titanic's victualling department.

They zigzagged their way, dodging between vehicles and handcarts, alongside hurried passengers—predominantly second class and steerage—and their well-wishers. The majority of first-class passengers sidestepped the pungent throng of the dockside by using a raised boarding bridge, situated twenty feet above. The group moved past a queue of steerage passengers, clad in rough wool and tweeds, corralled within portable barriers like livestock in a pen. A health officer methodically inspected each one, scrutinizing scalps and eyelashes for lice. Ruth recoiled at the dismal scene, grateful she would not have to endure a lifetime among the notorious, the unknown, and their offensive stench.

Eventually, they passed a well-dressed young man cranking the handle of a wooden Biograph a "cinematograph” camera mounted on a tripod. Rose recognized him as Daniel Marvin, whose father Henry founded the American Mutoscope and Biograph Company. He was filming his young bride in front of the Titanic. Mary Marvin, his wife was standing stiffly and smiling, self-conscious of her surroundings.

"Look up at the ship, darling, that's it. You're amazed! You can't believe how big it is! Like a mountain. That's great."

Mary Marvin, without an acting fiber in her body, did a bad Clara Bow pantomime of awe, hands raised. But Rose didn't care, she wished that Cal would be as charming as Daniel.

A little down the line, Cal was jostled by two yelling steerage boys who shoved past him. And he was bumped again a second later by the boys’ father. All three wanted to take a close look at the ship as it sailed off.

"Sorry, sir!" he apologized before running after his sons.

But if there is one thing you should know about Cal, it was that he had a very, very, very narrow-minded opinion of the lower classes.

"Gutter scum. Apparently missed his annual bath."

Rose tried to be reasonable.

"Don't call them that, I'm sure they didn't mean it."

Ruth frowned at them as well

"I don't understand why they don't keep the steerage separate from first class on the dock. It seems so obvious."

Rose couldn't help but tease.

"Be sure and write them a letter, Mother."

Rose was so hard to read in her mother's eyes. Sure she might have spoiled her a couple of times, but Rose was also jaded, and a bit late on certain things. Earlier that day, while in their hotel room, Rose felt like wearing black for the journey, to which Ruth and Cal considered "bad luck" in their eyes. Ruth had been travelling on White Star ships since she was little girl, starting with the old Oceanic's maiden voyage and as far she told Rose, about fifty times give or take, she never wore black.

"Chin up, sweetpea, I've pulled every string I could to book us on the grandest ship in history, in her most luxurious suites, and you act as if you're going to your execution."

"It does feel like an execution...of my dreams. But what do you care about them?"

"A lot, but consider your future, Rose. We'll be even happier when that day arrives."

Rose was indifferent to "the day" as she gazed up at the Titanic's hull towering above them—a vast iron wall, dark as the Bible and stark. Cal gestured for her to proceed, and with a profound sense of foreboding, she stepped onto the gangway leading to the D-Deck doors. Cal's grip tightened possessively on Rose's arm. Guided by Ruth, with the maids trailing, he led her up the gangway and into the ship's depths.

Upon entering the ship, two men opened the doors for them, letting the First Class party into the reception area. Although Titanic seemed like a wonder of modern engineering, the general public was impressed by something else: luxury. The Grand Staircase spanned six decks with it's graceful sweep of paneled and carved oak surfaces. Behind it were three elevators for those who chose to ride. The First Class staterooms and suites were elegantly appointed and each suite had a private bathroom. Only the wealthiest could afford these rooms, which ranged from 27 pounds, 4 shillings or $135 off season, to 855 pounds or $4,250 at the height of the summer (these figures are in 1912 dollars). In an era when most families could live on a few dollars a week, these were clearly passengers to whom luxurious travel meant a great deal. Accommodations for up to 905 First Class passengers were distributed between B, C, and D-Decks, with the more desirable locations closer to the top of the ship. Their occupants could dine in the dining saloon and reception room on D-Deck or in the a la carte restaurant on B-Deck. There were lounges for all: a smoking room for men, a writing room for ladies and a lounge on A-Deck where larger windows let in more daylight. Brass, silver, gold, crystal and elegant woodwork were everywhere. The entire A-Deck promenade was First Class territory, with the forward half protected from the weather by plate glass windows. Those seeking exercise could visit the gymnasium, swimming pool or squash court. Those in need of deep relaxation would find it in the Turkish Bath on F-Deck. Many of these passengers travelled with personal servants, but all could count on the kindly attention of the stewards and stewardesses, whose job it was to see that First Class passengers were comfortable, happy and thoroughly pampered.

Second Class passengers could expect courteous if less regal versions of the First Class public rooms and personal services. Each passenger paid between 10 pounds, ten shillings and 13 pounds for a berth. In 1912, this equaled $52 to $65. (The variation in price may have included fare for the boat train to the Southampton dock). Unlike First Class, there were no private cabins and passengers who were not traveling as families paid for their bunks, and the purser decided who would room together. Titanic and Olympic were designed to carry 564 Second Class passengers in accommodations located toward the aft end of D, E, and F-Decks. Although they did not have access to the fitness areas or the restaurants, which were First Class luxuries, Second Class did have their own smoking room, library, and two promenade areas - one at the aft end of the boat deck, the other on B-Deck overlooking the aft well deck.

Even the steerage passengers were given more privacy and better food than they might have expected on a lesser ship. Each passenger who travelled Third Class on Olympic or Titanic paid 7 pounds, 10 shillings for his or her berth, or about $37 in 1912 currency. In order for the White Star Line to meet expenses, it needed to fit as many of these people into as little space as possible. There was room for 1,134 Third Class passengers in the fore and aft steerage sections of the ships, mostly on F-Deck, but some above or below on E and G-Decks. Although far from the opulence of First Class and the gentility of Second Class, their accommodations were clean and comfortable. This group had the least amount of common space available to them. Their dining saloon was midship on F-Deck, but the only other places for Third Class to exercise or socialize were the promenade on the aft well deck, the smoking room and general room just behind on C-Deck, and a hold-like interior at the forward end of D-Deck. Most people who traveled this way were accustomed to their place at the bottom of the social ladder, and for some of the more impoverished immigrants, their simple quarters and hearty food on Titanic were the best they had ever experienced.

One baker, Charles Burgess, was in awe of Titanic's elegance.

"Like the Olympic, yes, but so much more elaborate," he reflected. "Take the dining-saloon. The Olympic didn't even have a carpet, but the Titanic – ah, you sank in it up to your knees. Then there's the furniture: so heavy you could hardly lift it. And that paneling...They can make them bigger and faster, but it was the care and effort that went into her. She was a beautiful, wonderful ship."

The elegant First Class Reception Room was almost 5,000 feet long and painted white. The architectural style was Jacobean and there were sixteen pillars to keep the ship from vibrating or collapsing, large windows, a great deal of wicker chairs and green round tables, stained glass that covered the lit portholes, and comfortable sofas.

They were greeted by stewards offering to escort them to their staterooms. One of the young "buttons" or bellboys, 15 years old, scurried past them with a huge flower arrangement for George Quincy Clifford in A-14.

At the foot of the opulent Grand Staircase, they were greeted by an old friend of Ruth's. Noel Leslie, the Countess of Rothes, who was travelling with her parents (they were going to get off at the next stop). She was a 35ish blue-blood from Scotland with patrician features and someone Rose could look up to. Cal, hungry for the validation of meeting royals, couldn't help but introduce himself.

"Ruth!" Noel cried upon seeing said woman. "Wonderful to see you again!"

After some introductions, the Countess asked Cal:

"Forgive me if my memory is incorrect, but your father is in steel, isn't he Mister Hockley?"

"Yes, we have the largest mill in Pittsburg, producing over three million tons a year. In fact, several thousand tons of Hockley steel are in this ship I'm proud to say."

"And what about you Rose?" asked the countess. "Still keeping up with your piano and your Latin?"

"I would be lying if I told you I was not through with finishing school, ma'am."

"Dear girl, a little thing like marriage is no reason for one to halt the refinement of the mind."

"I agree," came a voice from behind.

It was Jack Thayer, accompanied by his parents John and Marian. He was just about Rose's age and he too had a unique outlook on life. 

"If I was married, I'd encourage my wife to learn many things. This is a new century after all."

Ruth chuckled. She assumed that both the Countess and her young neighbor were joking. In her opinion, there was nothing in life more important for a young woman than finding a great catch. All education and artistic training served only one purpose: preparation for the role of society wife.

"You awful things," she said to both parties.

The introductions were made as quickly as possible. Then another family of three approached: The Wideners, George, Eleanor and their son Harry.

'Hello again, Rose," smiled Mrs. Widener.

Rose replied with a mechanical smile and distant eyes.

"Can you imagine what an odyssey I have been through?" Ruth began in one of her usually clam tirades. "It's about the bridesmaids dresses. Rose wanted lavender, but she knows I detest the color and did it to spite me."

This was one topic that Rose liked least of all, being concerned about appearances. She cared very much for inner beauty and her dreams of seeing the world on her own. She excused herself and walked into the first-class dining saloon, which was adjacent to the reception room. The saloon was awesome in scale, over a hundred feet on each side, and all the tables were set with elegant White Star Line china and fresh hot-house flowers. 

"Is she all right?" asked the Countess as Rose disappeared into the room. "She seems peaked."

Ruth found her words.

"Oh, you know... wedding jitters. And the preparations have just been exhausting for both of us. The invitations alone have been sent back to the printers three times...

Rose stood in the dining saloon with no one else around except for a few patrons who had come to eat their first lunch. She picked up a silver soupspoon off a table, and stared angrily into it. Slowly, she bent it double, imagining it was Cal being pressed under her thumb.

She felt like she was standing at a great precipice, with no one to pull her back, and nobody would even care or notice. Outwardly she was everything a well brought up girl should be. But on the inside, she was screaming.

Many of Titanic's Second Class passengers held First Class tickets for Oceanic or Majestic, less elegant White Star liners whose voyages were cancelled when their coal supplies were transferred to Titanic. It was simply impossible for them to be treated as First Class passengers aboard Titanic, the cost of amenities and services was far too expensive. These were educated middle class people like Laurence Beesley, a vacationing science professor from London's Dulwich College. Some like Marion Wright of Yeoville and her friends Kate Buss, Dr. Alfred Pain and Robert Douglas Norman were travelling to Cottage Grove, Oregon where she was due to become Mrs. Arthur Woolcott. There were families en route, such as the Beckers, American missionaries returning from India. Others like Charlotte Collyer, her husband Harvey and their eight-year-old daughter Marjorie were travelling from Bishopstoke, Hampshire to a new life in Fayette Valley, Idaho. Their accommodations on Titanic, while lacking the famous grandeur and privilege of First Class, would be as comfortable as any modern stateroom on another ship. Before Titanic sailed, her Second Class passengers were allowed to tour the more luxurious areas of the wonder ship as a courtesy to these people who had suddenly been demoted in status through no fault of their own, happily posing for photographs in surroundings that they could otherwise never afford. During the voyage, classes of passengers never mingled, and this was seen as a unique opportunity to see how the rich would be treated.

As for Third Class, that was a different story, especially when the concept of class mingling would change the world of a young man who barely had a penny to his name.

On the other side of the docks, in the Grapes Pub on Oxford Street, this young man of twenty, with light blonde hair, blue eyes and a perfectly handsome build (typical Aryan looks, the Germans might think), was playing poker with his best friend Fabrizio Di Rossi and two Swedish brothers, Sven and Olaf Gunderson. This young man of course, had a name as fitting as any other hero of a great novel: Jack Dawson.

Jack had been brought up by poor, but honest parents, in Chippewa Falls, Wisconsin. His father worked as a logger and his mother stayed at home. He didn't have any brothers or sisters, save for a few distant relatives outside of Wisconsin, so his mom and dad devoted much of their free time to him. On birthdays and Christmas, they would save enough money to buy presents, such as a new scarf, new shirts and shoes, even books and some paper for his schoolwork, which would later inspire him to become an artist. But like so many other people in his disposition, there was also the chance of tragedy striking in his life, especially since he had little money for medical care.

First there was that unfortunate trip to Lake Winnebago, when he lost his mother in a boat accident after she tried showing off to her husband. She was not equipped with the ability to swim and thus drowned before Father could rescue her. Then, just before he turned fifteen, a strange lightning storm took Chippewa Falls by surprise, a bolt of lightning struck the top of Jack's house and set it on fire. Jack was able to make out, but a falling beam trapped his dad inside and the rest of the house collapsed afterwards. As he watched his home burn down, Jack realized that he was now on his own. The only thing left for him to do, was salvage everything he had from that wreckage, saw to it that his old man received a proper burial and disappear into the night...or at least find some place to live and make some money for a living. If there was one thing his parents taught him, it was an old philosophy: earning and working your way to get you someplace is always the best way.

And that's exactly what Jack did. First he tried taking his father's place as a logger, but there wasn't enough of his father's spirit in him to do the job right, so he collected his severance pay and took a train bound for other places that could offer him jobs until he came to the end of the line: Santa Monica, California. There he would put his artistic skills to good use by drawing portraits in his sketchpad for ten cents a piece. He drew people, dogs, cats, children and even scenic scenes. But in all knowledge of art, he dreamed of one day going to Paris, France, which would cost him a lot more than what he needed, so he worked as a sailor on a tramp steamer from San Francisco to Seattle and Vancouver, and after three years of hard toil, sweat, and dealing with some people who had their noses too high up in the air, Jack had saved enough money to take a one way trip on the Adriatic to Paris, via Cherbourg, White Star's main port. There he learned all the different artistic styles from Claude Monet, to Henri de Toulouse-Latrec, to Merry-Joseph Blondel and Francis Davis Millet, even a little bit of Colin Campbell Cooper and Samuel Ward Stanton. During his stay, he learned how to speak French fluently and get along well with a few of the local Parisians, even a few of the courtesans and entertainers at the Moulin Rouge. But all the same, he longed for home.

And then, just three weeks before Titanic was to set sail, Jack met Fabrizio, who was leaving his home country of Italy in hopes of becoming a millionaire to impress his mother and that's all you need to know about him. The two men got along well and they even decided to book a passage home on the Titanic. There was just one little problem: With the money they had, there was only enough to take them as far as Southampton and they had little other choice than to beg or steal, or at least that was Fabrizio's idea. But Jack had a better suggestion, they were willing to bet everything they had: a jackknife, a pocket watch and some bills and coins from four countries on two third class tickets, despite the fact that they weren't transferable. Olaf Gunderson was willing to bet their tickets after Sven had spent nearly all of their travel money on three drinks.

This had been going on for a while. The mood was tense and sullen.

"Hit me again, Sven," Jack said in a cowboy type of accent.

Sven obeyed. Jack took the card and slipped it into his hand. He had a full house, but he was willing to keep it a secret until the moment was right for him to pounce.

"All right, boys. Moment of truth. Somebody's life is about to change."

Fabrizio and Olaf had nothing, but Sven...

"Shit, two pair," Jack cringed at the sight of his opponent's cards, then he turned to his Italian bud.

"Sorry, Fabrizio."

"Que, sorry? Che vuoi dire scusa? Ci hai incasinato! You bet all the money and-"

Jack restrained him from bursting his lungs.

"I'M SORRY! But you're not goin' to see your mama again for a long time, cause..."

He had been waiting to say this since the game ended.

"WE'RE GOIN' TO AMERICA!"

He proudly set his full house deck on the table for all to see. Jack, clutching the tickets, jumped on Fabrizio's back and rode him around the pub, shouting "We're going on the Titanic!" like they had just won the lottery. The Swedes were not happy about it. But being Swedish they just get depressed, and no violence erupted.

"We're going to America!" Fabrizio screamed.

"Well you'd better hurry, mate!" the old pubkeeper told them. "Or it'll be Titanic goin' to America in half an hour!"

He pointed his right thumb at the clock on the wall behind him. The time was eleven thirty sharp.

"Shit!" Jack cried to Fabrizio. "We'd better go!"

To everyone else, he grinned.

"It's been grand!"

Grabbing their belongings, the two men raced for the door.

"'Course I'm sure if they knew it was you lot comin', they'd be pleased to wait!" the pubkeeper shouted after them.

Crossing the train tracks and past cars and horses and pedestrians making a quick retreat into the safer areas of traffic, Jack and Fabrizio ran towards the Third Class entrance, shouting as they ran, taking a few glances at Titanic's majestic hull at the same time.

"Looks like we're gonna be riding in high style now!" Jack shouted back to his friend. "Goin' home to the land of the free and the real hot dogs!"

To think! Fabrizio thought. Going to America to be a millionaire on the grandest ship in the world!

"You're awesome!" he shouted to Jack.

"Maybe, but I've got the tickets!" Jack sang in a teasing tone. "Now come on, I thought you were fast!"

Fabrizio picked up his feet and accelerated like he was running in the Olympics with money on the game.

After another short glance at Titanic's massive hull, Jack and Fabrizio sprinted toward the Third Class gangway aft at E-Deck. They were greeted by Sixth Officer Moody at the entrance.

"Don't leave without us!" Jack was shouting. "We're passengers!"

Flushed and panting, he waved the tickets. Moody gave them a once-over.

"Have you been through the inspection queue?" he asked.

Jack couldn't help but lie cheerfully through his teeth.

"Of course! Anyway, we don't even have lice. We're Americans! Both of us!"

Without any second thoughts, Moody stood proudly and said.

"Welcome aboard Titanic."

The two men climbed onboard, Moody glanced at the tickets and passed Jack and Fabrizio over to Quartermaster George Rowe. Rowe looked at the names on the ticket to enter them on the passenger list.

"Gundersen and Gundersen," he read.

But before he could take a closer look at Fabrizio's Mediterranean features, the two steerage men, grinning from ear to ear, were already racing down the white painted corridors.

"We are the luckiest sons of bitches in the whole world!" Jack cried out, drawing the unwanted attention of some stares.

As Jack, Fabrizio and the rest of the passengers boarded, Titanic's officers conducted a lifeboat drill under the watchful gaze of Captain Maurice Clarke and other Board of Trade inspectors. Sailors at the davits swung out a few of the boats and lowered them with junior officers and other sailors aboard. They disconnected the small crafts from their falls and rowed out into the harbor. The simulated escape was complete and the inspectors were satisfied. By legal standards, Titanic's lifeboats were now considered safe and adequate. She was officially free to sail.

Captain Smith stood on the bridge with Andrews and his officers by his side and ordered the crew to cast off.

"Let's stretch her legs for the first Channel run," he said to Murdoch.

At the stroke of noon, Titanic's huge steam whistle bellowed. Her mooring lines, which were as big around as a man's arm, were cast off and she eased away from her berth. Passengers crowded the deck rails to wave their jubilant farewells to those on the dock, including Jack and Fabrizio. They make it to the rail in time to yell and wave to the crowd on the dock. Neither one of them knew anyone down there, they were just full of the exhilaration of the moment. Jack leaned on the rail and looks up at the fourth funnel, towering against the sky. By his expression, the ship truly was a queen of the sea. They said goodbye to no-one as they yelled and waved variations of "Goodbye!" and "I'll never forget you!" in English and Italian ("That's not the point!" Jack reacted incredulously when Fabrizio asked him if he knew somebody). Photographers clicked away wildly. One newsman, Ernest Townley of London, was thoroughly impressed.

"The vision of the great liner as she moved away from Southampton quay forms an imperishable memory. She looked so colossal and so queenly."

Five tugboats led Titanic through the channel of the River Test. History was being made.

"Come on," said Jack to his friend. "Let's go check out our cabins."

Going back inside, Jack and Fabrizio pass doors, gates and chained off stairways which separated third class from second and first classes. Seeing a bit of fun, and an impulsive moment of a rebellious streak, Jack jumped over the waist high gate and stood in first class for a moment.

"I don't feel any different," he said before leaving.

The bow of Titanic, reserved for single men, was a seemingly endless corridor in steerage. There was total confusion as people argued over luggage in several languages, fathers trying to keep their boys together, or wandering in confusion in the labyrinth.

They passed emigrants studying the signs over the doors, and looking up the words in phrase books.

In other Third Class areas of the ship, 150 steerage passengers were Scandinavian, speaking little English, traveling in large family groups. There were even a large number of Germans and Italians, English and Irish, some Scots. Later in the day, in Cherbourg, France, another 102 steerage passengers would come aboard, mostly Syrian, Croation, Armenian and other Middle Eastern nationals who would be exhausted from their journey and confused by the language.

At last they came to the door of Room 60 in Section E on G-Deck, which was located immediately outboard of the forward set of stairs on the port side of the upper level of the Squash Court on F-Deck. Jack was the first to enter through the doors. Although it seemed like a modest cubicle, painted in enamel white with four bunks, it still felt like home. He also greeted the odd eyed stares of the two occupying Swedes, Olaus and Bjorn Gundersen.

"Jack Dawson, nice to meet you."

He didn't notice until too late that Fabrizio had taken the top bunk he had his eyes on.

"Who says you get top bunk, huh?" asked Jack as he threw his kit on him.

I wonder where Sven and Olaf are? Olaus wondered in confusion.

Neither one of them would know what really happened. But what happened fifteen minutes into the voyage would be considered most memorable.

Titanic's propellers began to turn as the tugs cast off their lines. Her size and power had set up a strong current of displaced water in the narrow, crowded channel of the River Test at low tide. Because of the coal strike, ships were unable to sail, crowded into their berths by more recent arrivals. Some were moored in tandem. One of these pairs was White Star's Oceanic, with a ship owned by the American Line, the steamer City of New York, or simply New York, on the channel side. Slowly, it began to rise on Titanic's swell. As she fell, her lines broke with sounds like gunshots. Her stern was sucked uncontrollably into Titanic's wake. Thinking quickly, Captain Gale of the tugboat Vulcan had his crew throw two cables at the New York. The first one broke, but the second held fast. At great risk of fouling her own propellers in the trailing lines, Vulcan managed to stop the drifting ship a mere four feet from Titanic's hull. Captain Smith and Pilot George Bowyer reversed the engines at the last second, and continued to back up toward the White Star Dock. Smith had Lightoller lower the starboard anchor within a few feet of the water in case the ship needed to stop instantly. Titanic waited for the New York to be floated out of the way before cautiously proceeding. After Vulcan shepherded New York out of the Test Docks and into the River Itchen, and after Oceanic was secured to her berth with additional lines, Titanic headed out again, more slowly and cautiously than before. She was now one hour behind schedule. Without further incident, she turned into Southampton Water and made for open sea.

The whole event reminded Lawrence Beesley of the Olympic-Hawke incident, seven months earlier:

"As we steamed down the river, the scene we had just witnessed was the topic of every conversation," he wrote in his book. "The comparison with the Olympic-Hawke collision was drawn in every little group of passengers, and it seemed to be generally agreed that this would confirm the suction theory which was so successfully advanced by the cruiser Hawke in the law courts, but which many people scoffed at when the British Admiralty first suggested it as the explanation of the cruiser ramming the Olympic."

Captain Smith's steward James Pantin also described the incident, in a note to his parents:

"I say that because the Olympic's bad luck seems to have followed us, for as we came out of dock this morning we passed quite close to the Oceanic and New York which were tied up in the Adriatic's old berth, and whether it was suction or what it was I don't know, but the New York's ropes snapped like a piece of cotton and she drifted against us. There was great excitement for some time, but I don't think there was any damage done bar one or two people knocked over by the ropes."

Jack, Fabrizio, Olaus and Bjorn watched the scene from the safety of a port side porthole.

"Damn!" Jack cried to his Italian mate. "That was close!"

In First Class, Cal and his entourage had just about entered their rooms, B-52, 54 and 56, which they would also be sharing with Mr. Ismay, who was already there to greet them. The suite was in the Empire style, and comprised of two bedrooms, a bath, WC, wardrobe room, and a large sitting room (B-52). Technically Rose and Cal would be having separate rooms. She would be sleeping in B-56 while Cal would have B-54 with Mr. Ismay. This was done for the sake of propriety, but it was quickly clear that they were essentially living together. They were to behave as a couple in their living space, dressing together for dinner, and, one can assume, sleeping together. If Ruth knew about this, she would say nothing. The wedding would be soon enough, and she didn't want to do anything to jeopardize it. For this, she had booked the interior cabin of B-99, which was across the hall and down a couple of cabins. Trudy, Theresa and Lovejoy had their own cabins on E-Deck with the other First Class servants. When they heard the New York's lines snapping, they rushed to the window and saw the whole thing for themselves. Rose was greatly disappointed when she saw that disaster had been averted, then they would stay in England for few more days, or even a month. But with the port of Southampton shrinking away, and Cal and her mother fussing over the incident like mildly immature children, she was stuck, better yet trapped.

The near-collision with the steamer New York was an exciting send off from Southampton, but many of Titanic's passengers were too busy with their first lunch to watch the maneuvers that followed. In the rhythm of shipboard life, meals were the perfect social event, whether to catch up with old friends or make new ones. First and Second Classes had an array of lounges, reception areas, smoking rooms and other places to congregate. Third class had fewer options, but all had free access to a designated deck space. Crossing the English Channel on a sunny afternoon, passengers were eager to explore their floating palace.

But Rose, naturally, had little time for exploring, seeing as the rest of her luggage had to be unpacked. Including her favorite possessions: a quartet of paintings which she had bought from a flea market in Paris with her own money. One depicted a ballerina with her lover watching from afar, one was a man's portrait, another had five female figures huddled together and the fourth was a copy of Monet's "Water Lilies". Interestingly enough, Titanic also had Merry Joseph Blondel's "La Circassienene au Bain" onboard, but unfortunately, Rose never got a chance to see it, for it was stored in the cargo hold. In the case of the paintings she bought, Rose thought they gave the sitting room a little color. Cal thought they looked silly.

"God, not those finger paintings again," he groaned after pacing the private promenade for a minute. "They certainly were a waste of money."

Rose's eyes met Cal with a hard glare.

"Well, I like them, Cal. The difference between your taste in art and mine is that, unlike you, I actually have some. Don't you find them fascinating, Mother?"

Ruth had a mixed answer for the paintings.

"I do admit, they are quite beautiful, Rose, but couldn't we have sold them to an art gallery somewhere? We could have gotten some extra money off of them."

Rose couldn't help but roll her eyes at her mothers' monetary concerns and values. She had been that way since Father died.

"Mother, there's more to art than what it's worth, it's the beauty of it, the meaning of it..."

She gazed her eyes upon the five solemn faces.

"It's like being inside or dream or something. There's truth but no logic. Don't you think so, Mr. Lovejoy?"

Lovejoy, who was directing a few stewards as to where the luggage was supposed to go, was far from interested.

"Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies, Miss Rose."

Unsatisfied, Rose turned to Trudy and Theresa.

"What do you two think?"

Trudy was the first to answer.

"I like this one. Who painted it?"

Rose looked at the name on the canvas, and searched her memories for the name in full.

"I think his name was Pablo Picasso."

Ismay, who was overseeing the DeWitt Bukaters to make sure they were settling in comfortably in his suite, nearly had a chuckle.

"Picasso? I can't imagine that he will amount to much. But when it comes to art, I too have my own tastes and the newer generation is not one of them."

"I was afraid you might say that," Rose sighed quietly.

And she left to put the ballerina painting in her bedroom. Trudy followed her.

Theresa, whose face was as old and as sour as Ruth's, said to her employer.

"I remember back when we had more wholesome artists, whose paintings were more realistic instead of stylish."

Ruth nodded her head at that.

Inside the B-56 bedroom, Rose set the ballerina painting on the dresser near the bed. Trudy began hanging up Rose's clothes, admiring the décor. She sucked in that beautiful "new ship" smell into her lungs, sighing admirably.

"It smells so brand new, don't you think? Like they built it all just for us."

"If I only had your enthusiasm," was all Rose had to say.

Trudy continued, nonetheless.

"I mean, just to think that tonight I'll be the first to crawl between the sheets."

But just then, Cal appeared in the doorway.

"And when I crawl between the sheets tonight, I'll still be the first."

Trudy blushed at the innuendo.

"I'll be in the Maid's Saloon if you need me," she excused and left.

Now alone, Cal walked up to Rose. Knowing very well what he was going to do next, Rose turned his back to him, but even that didn't stop him from putting his hands on her shoulders in an act of possession rather than the true love that she always wanted.

"The first and only forever," Cal said as he stole a kiss on Rose's left cheek.

Seeing no other alternative, Rose planted a kiss on his cheek. Maybe the voyage wouldn't be so bad after all as long as Cal was in a better and understanding mood.

In the Third Class Smoking Room, located in the stern, Jack and Fabrizio met Ara Ajemian, a hawk-nosed and sensitive looking Armenian boy of 16. From what little English he spoke, he was a refugee from Turkish persecution, going to live with a cousin in Toronto.

"That is wicked!" said Fabrizio. "I know we not so wicked like that in Italy...except for a few others."

"I hear the Turks might go to war with the Serbs," said Jack, "but I doubt it will happen."

"Might," said a pessimistic Ara. "But who knows? World always change."

"So do ships," reminisced Jack. "They always seem to get bigger and bigger."

The Ottoman Empire around this time was crumbling from numerous changings of borders and multiple offensives occurring across the territories. It was a polar opposite to the world of shipbuilding in the west.

Upstairs, in the First Class lounge, Cal saw the opportunity to introduce Rose to some of the other passengers who had embarked, including Algernon Henry Barkworth, Justice of the Peace from Hessle, Yorkshire. Hockley presented Rose with the pride of ownership, basking in their reaction to her beauty and pedigree. She dutifully charmed him, playing the part of the porcelain doll.

"As Justice of the Peace," Barkworth was saying, "I am entitled to perform weddings."

"Good," said Cal. "We are in need someone to unite us."

"Are you married yourself?" asked Rose.

"No, never in all my life."

Then Mr. Ismay came in and joined them. After introducing Ismay to Barkworth, Cal had this to say:

"I should congratulate you, Bruce, you have built into existence the greatest ship ever built.

Ismay blushed before asking.

"Are my cabins up to your satisfaction?"

"Extraordinary," smiled Cal. "I don't suppose you know that J. P. Morgan was going to be with us before he cancelled?"

"I am aware, but he never told me."

"I think he didn't want to embarrass himself," Rose butted in. "After all, he is the real owner of this ship."

Ismay said nothing, he just blushed.

Jack, Fabrizio and Ara went to check out the Third Class general room, which was on the opposite side of the smoking room. It was stark by comparison to the opulence of the First Class lounge, but was a loud, boisterous place, full of the pageant of human life. There were mothers with babies, kids running between the tables and benches yelling in several languages and being scolded in several more. There was an upright piano and somebody always seemed to be noodling around on it. There were old Italian women yelling, men playing chess, boys playing cards, and girls doing needlepoint and reading dime novels.

Three boys, Willie Coutts, Frank Goldsmith and his friend Alfred Rush, shrieked and shouted and scrambled around chasing a rat under the benches, trying to whomp it with a shoe and causing general havoc.

Fabrizio and Jack came in to check out the scene... the former to look for good-looking girls of any nationality or language group, and the latter to draw.

Whenever Jack went on his travels, he always carried his precious large and well-worn leather-bound sketchbook, and he spend most of the time in this room drawing the people he saw around him. Some of the drawings were just a hand, or the way a man's profile would catch the light. He drew these people, in all their endless variety, expressing his love for life. In steerage, there was plenty of life. The feeling here was totally different than what we had seen in second-lasting trip in First Class. There was energy. Emotion. Excitement at what was ahead, longing and loss for what was left behind. There are things at stake for these people. It is not just some pleasure cruise to visit friends on Long Island, it is a whole new life. Many of these steerage people have everything they ever owned with them. They carry a few treasured pictures, their clothes, some money sown into the lining of a coat.

They were families heading to America to escape poverty or persecution, or single young men setting out to make their fortunes. Many of them lived in noisy, crowded, fetid squalor, where children worked in sweatshops for pennies and tuppence a day and died of simple diseases. All their hopes and dreams were in this voyage. For them Titanic was also the ship of dreams.

Cora Cartmell, looking for some fun, decided to climb all over Jack while he tried to draw. Jack wasn't too angry

Fabrizio, meanwhile is trying to get a conversation going with a few of the women, sitting with her family at a table across the room. They did not speak his language, but were faintly amused by this gesticulating madman. Fabrizio thought his luck was rising, but which one seemed to be the right one for him?

After an hour, Jack gave up drawing. He handed his sketchbook to Fabrizio to mind while he gave Cora and some other kids horse rides around the common area and out onto the well deck. Jack had Willie Coutts under his arm and another boy on his shoulders, running across the deck in the warm afternoon sun while the kids shrieked with joy.

By sunset, Titanic arrived at the deep-water port of Cherbourg, France, 77 miles south of Southampton. She rose at anchor while passengers, baggage and mail bags were ferried from the dock by Nomadic and Traffic, two specially designed White Star tenders. Of the 274 new passengers, half were wealthy travelers on vacation and over one third were emigrants from Europe and the Middle East. 24 people and one canary left the ship after history's most glamourous cross-channel commute. By 8:30, Titanic was ready to leave Cherbourg. Her lights sparkled in the clear evening as she rose anchor and steamed out into the English Channel.

Most of the First Class passengers joining Titanic at Cherbourg were wealthy Americans and Britons, accustomed to the luxury they were about to experience: Millionaire John Jacob Astor IV and his young wife Madeleine were returning from their honeymoon, braced for scandal in New York, outspoken philanthropist Margaret "Maggie" Brown (history would call her "The Unsinkable Molly Brown"), fashion designer Lucille, Lady Duff-Gordon and her titled husband Sir Cosmo, President Taft's military advisor Major Archibald Butt, mining tycoon Benjamin Guggenheim and his mistress Madame Aubart, artist Frances Davis Millet, heiress Charlotte Cardeza and her son Thomas, the list went on... they were the royalty of the Gilded Age, the who's who of high society. Captain Smith would greet them all personally. No expense had been spared for their comfort and pleasure. These were the people on whom Titanic's image was built.

Stewardess Jessop also greeted Titanic's elite as they boarded.

"We felt the thrill that the unknown always gives, when we scanned that list and found world-famous names but, as yet to us, merely names. We speculated if their owners would tally with our conception of them; but what concerned us even more was what their idiosyncrasies might be. No doubt we would find them all very different to what we pictured, for people nearly always are. The romance one cannot help weaving around certain personalities, due mostly to the press, is often shattered on contact. So it was not surprising when John Jacob Astor brought his bride of a year on board, about whom there had been so much publicity. Instead of the radiant woman of my imagination, one who had succeeded in overcoming much opposition and marrying the man she wanted, I saw a quiet, pale, sad-faced, in fact dull young woman arrive listlessly on the arm of her husband, apparently indifferent to everything about her. It struck me for the first time that all the wealth in the world did not make for inward contentment... Next appeared a delightful old couple—old in years and young in character—whom we were always happy to see join us: Mr. and Mrs. Straus had grown old so gracefully and so together. They were, as usual, charmed to see us and with all the arrangements made for their comfort. They gave each of us an individual word of greeting as they made their way to the deck above to wave farewell to friends."

Maggie Brown came bursting through the wrought iron D-Deck doors carrying a suitcase in each hand. She was wearing a red dress with a matching hat adorned in black feathers and purple roses and a black fur trim around her shoulders. She had been visiting her oldest daughter Helen in Paris and the Astor party, joining them on a vacation in Egypt. Hearing that her infant grandson Lawrence was sick, she decided to return home with the Astors while Helen stayed behind, taking with her a load of Egyptian art treasures for the Denver Museum of Nature and Science. A porter came running to catch up with her to take the bags.

"Well, I wasn't about to wait all day for you, young man," said Maggie in a reserved voice hidden by a Colorado accent. "Take them the rest of the way to my cabin if you think you can manage. I'm in E-23, remember that."

The porter obeyed. Maggie waved hello to the Astors as they left for the left-hand side elevator. Maggie had her eyes on the middle one. Coming out of it were Rose and Ruth, already dressed for dinner in their fine Paris gowns. Maggie gave them a quick hello, while Ruth whispered "new money" to Rose. Rose, however, thought that Mrs. Brown, whom she and her mother knew through reputation, was a highly positive role model that would encourage young women to work as a means of earning money instead of inheriting it. She also thought that women were man's equal, that they deserved just the same amount of jobs as men did, and it was because of that philosophy that Margaret Brown was also a suffragette.

Rose kept thinking of all the wonderful, yet tall, tales that Maggie had performed throughout her life when she and her mother joined Cal at the table of family friend Noel Leslie, the Countess of Rothes, her cousin, Gladys Cherry and the Wideners and the Thayers. Noel's parents had left the ship aboard Nomadic and she was taking the rest of the voyage to America where she would meet up with her husband in Vancouver, British Columbia. Rose gave John Jr (also named Jack) and Harry a quick nod as Cal pulled out the chair for her, but she did not sit down, yet.

"This is the Twentieth Century, Cal, I can pull out my own seat, thank you."

Cal just laughed, hoping spare himself of the embarrassment.

"Ignore her, George, John, I think she's been cooped up in her room too long."

"Actually," Rose countered. "I had a fine time in there. It was the recent arrival of Mrs. Brown that just inspired me to believe that women can be more capable without a man's assistance."

Ruth shook her head unhappily.

"Rose, we do not discuss this sort of subject at the dinner table."

Fortunately for Rose, the Countess came to her rescue.

"Actually, I think your daughter might be a worthy member of our cause. I too believe that women should start doing more for themselves."

Ruth's eyes nearly widened when she heard this.

"You're a suffragette?"

"Yes," the Countess nodded. "Last year, I joined the Red Cross to become a nurse."

"Was it revolting?" Eleanor Widener tried to perish the thought of seeing so many wounded soldiers from the Italo-Turkish War.

"I got over it pretty quickly," the Countess replied in a voice of anonymous nature.

"You must be so brave," added Marian Thayer. "I'm not even sure if I could handle such endeavors."

"When you get into such endeavors like my cousin," Miss Cherry said. "You'll find it to be rather easy."

"They'd have to read a lot of medical books first," Harry Widener warned.

"Which might take a while," said Jack Thayer. "But I am a patient man."

"I wish I was patient with him," Rose said, pointing her right thumb to Cal  who gave a small scowl.

Cal stared back at her. A tense silence followed for half a minute.

"Oh, here comes the waiter," George Widener told everyone seated.

William Moss, the head waiter came up with his notepad.

"How can I serve you tonight, madams and messieurs?" he said politely in a British accent.

Cal picked up the menu.

"We'll have the mutton cutlets and green peas," he said.

Whenever they went out to restaurants, Cal always ordered for everybody, not even bothering to ask Rose what she wanted first or even liked, something that he had obviously forgotten in his years of training to become a gentleman.

Midway through the meal, Ruth went into discussing about Rose's wedding gown. Rose, who found the gown to be somewhat tasteless, was smiling mechanically whenever she was addressed, before her head would turn away, floating off as though in a dream. Her eyes were distant and longing for the greater things in life that none of the other society wives had.

This moment of awkward oddity was unnoticed by all, except for Harry Widener.

"Are you feeling all right, Rose?" he asked. "You seem peaked."

"Hmm?"

This caught Rose's attention. But not wanting anyone else to be worried, she thought up a quick lie.

"Oh, you know...wedding jitters. The preparations have been exhausting for the both of us."

"That it has," said Ruth. "You cannot imagine how many times I had to send the invitations back to the printers."

Rose was positive about one thing though, it was going to be a very long voyage.

In the Third Class dining room below them, which looked like a mess hall in comparison with First Class, Olaus and Bjorn were still looking for Sven and Olaf, leaving Jack, Ara and Fabrizio in the company of the Norwegian Dahl family, who were on their way to New York in hopes of opening up a fish factory in Flushing. Throughout the dinner, Fabrizio had his eyes set upon Helga, the beautiful flaxen-haired daughter sitting in front of him, and so had she. Could this be destiny? There was only one way to find out.

"What's your name?" he asked her.

Helga, who only understood a little English from passerby's, didn't know what to say. Fabrizio thought she was being feisty and continued eating his potatoes. Jack stared at them, a little envious of his friend's attraction to this foreign blondie.

Where can I find a girl like her? Jack wondered as he chewed his dinner slowly.

He had very few friends of the opposite sex back home in Chippewa Falls and other ladies he met during his travels gave him either condescending frowns or polite, yet flirtatious smiles as they passed. But if there was one thing Jack had his heart set on, it would be finding the perfect girl who would love, honor, cherish him and accept him as her husband.

When dinner was finished, Jack returned to his bunk, slept soundly that night and looked forward to another day aboard the Ship of Dreams.

Chapter Text

In the morning of Thursday the eleventh, Titanic passed close to Cornwall. She steered in a winding pathway as the crew wanted to test her compass. Thomas Andrews seemed to be in a good mood today, as Rose and her party noticed at breakfast in the dining saloon.

"A chipper gentleman, isn't he?"

"That gentleman happens to be the man who built this ship," answered Cal. "I believe he's Irish. I'm sure Bruce will tell us more about Mr. Andrews as soon as he gets here."

But Ismay had his own table alone, preferring to eat in solitude. Ruth felt like dining alone as well. She could see Margaret Brown at the table next to her chatting happily away with the Wideners and the Astors.

"If that miner's wife even thinks about dining at our table tonight, I might as well throw myself overboard," she said in disgust.

Rose was quick to come to her defense.

"Mother, you don't even know her that well. I'm sure if you opened up to her, you might actually notice that she is not as bad some people think she is."

"I think I will take my chances alone with the company of the Countess. What could you possibly know about Mrs. Brown?"

"I know from the newspapers that Maggie is cultured in many ways," Rose said. "I once read in the society columns that she speaks French, started a juvenile court and even divorced her husband for money."

Cal laid his hand on Rose's.

"I'd hate to think what would happen if you were to divorce me," he smiled, trying to sound genuine. "You know it's sin to end a relationship like that."

Rose cocked her eyebrows. She wanted to say "If I divorced you, I'd be the happiest woman on the planet." But instead, in a rather genuine, but actually false tone...

"I would never dream of divorcing you, darling. That is something only the English do."

The three continued to eat their breakfast in silence. 

Two tables away, on the port side, Karl Behr, the famous American tennis player, couldn’t help but whisper his overheard findings to his own fiancée, Helen Monypeny Newsom of Columbus, Ohio.

"Wouldn’t it be wonderful if those two married aboard this ship? The whole world would talk about it!"

"I don’t know," said Helen. "I think it would be much wiser to ask the betrothed’s opinion on the matter and if we were the ones getting married aboard the Titanic, then I would have to say 'no'. I’d be much happier in a nice cathedral on land."

"Whatever you say, darling," smiled Karl.

It was noisy in the deck below where the Third Class passengers congregated over breakfast. Jack, Fabrizio, Ara, Olaus and Bjorn were looking forward to meeting some of the steerage passengers who had embarked at Cherbourg last night, but Fabrizio was looking forward to making a proper introduction to Helga.

"We not we have breakfast with the Norwegian family again and then we can invite them to a smoke later?"

"A smoke?" Jack said. "I don't even think a girl like her would smoke, she's too young for that. Not even sure if she drinks if you know what I mean."

Unfortunately for them, the Dahls already had their breakfast and were taking a walk around the stern, so Jack and Fabrizio dined with two English families, the Goodwins and the Sages, large families with tons of children who were on their way to Florida and Niagra. Bjorn and Olaus, hoping to learn more English phrases from them, joined Jack and Fabrizio, having accepted in some way that their brothers were nowhere to be seen on the ship. Ara, meanwhile, was looking for some other Armenia passengers to converse with, like David Vartanian and his four other travelling companions.

"Mind if we join you?" Jack asked the Sage patriarch before they sat down.

"No, by all means," smiled the man whose name was John.

They shook hands.

"Jack Dawson, nice to meet you."

"John George Sage. This is my wife Annie and these are my children."

Jack counted the kids. There were about a total of 9 heads plus 5 that added up to fourteen. The number was so large, that they had to sit at two different tables.

"These are all yours?" he asked, cocking his head.

"Not all of them," John chuckled. "Some of them are Freddy Goodwin's. They're his brood."

Frederick Goodwin, sitting opposite of the Sage family, smiled, in an almost embarrassing way at Jack.

"It's true," was all he could say.

After some quick introductions from all the kids, Jack conversed with the oldest son George, who was only a year younger than Jack and had previously worked as a bartender. 

"So what brings you aboard Titanic, Mr. Dawson?"

"I'm heading back home to Chippewa Falls, it's in Wisconsin. And please, call me Jack, it almost feels like we're family."

"One big happy family," George added.

"Tell me, Jack," added Annie Sage. "Do you plan to have children yourself?"

Jack nearly dropped his spoon into the morning stew.

"I think that's a little early for that, isn't it?"

"Indeed," Fabrizio muttered in his Italian. "I just started eating."

"He's just upset because his girl couldn't join us," Jack teased.

"No, I'm not!" Fabrizio countered. "And when it comes to bambinos, I don't think I'd be good at it."

And he continued eating his breakfast without another word. From this point on, Jack knew better than to tease Fabrizio again.

At noon, Titanic dropped anchor at Cobh Harbor, the deep water port of Queenstown, Ireland. Two tenders, the Ireland and the America brought aboard port officials, journalists, 120 passengers, their luggage and nearly fifteen hundred mail bags. A select group of temporary visitors boarded here as well. There were even local vendors, picked by Chief Officer Wilde, to sell lace and souvenirs to First Class passengers on the promenade deck during the stop. The arraignment provided the vendors with wealthy clientele and Wilde received a tip for allowing them to board.

This system usually worked well for everyone involved - those who piled their trade and those who wished to buy things without disembarking. Everyone was on his or her best behavior, and no one stowed away on an outboard ship.

Except for maybe one fellow whom Fireman John Podesta saw jump ship during the stop.

"All the White Star boats and Cunard liners outward bound called here to pick up mails and passengers by tender and it was the custom for we firemen and trimmers to go up on deck and carry the mail from the tender to the mail room. A fireman whom I knew very well, John Coffey - I was in the Oceanic and Adriatic with him - said to me, ‘Jack, I’m going down to this tender to see my mother’. He asked me if anyone was looking and I said no and bid him good luck. A few seconds later he was gone!"

Back on the promenade deck, Rose, Ruth and Cal were browsing through the makeshift flea market of vendors with the Astors. Rose had her eye on a coat made of red caliber class lace.

"Isn't this lovely?" she asked Cal. "It's even my favorite color."

"Rose, we already spent enough money on clothes back in Paris," Ruth reminded her. "And besides, you don't even know how much it costs."

Rose was too busy smoldering it against her face to even make eye contact.

"Who cares about the cost, Mother? I love it."

"How much is it?" asked Cal.

The vendor selling the lace was a short old man in a black suit. He looked proud of what he was selling, so he answered:

"One hundred and sixty pounds. In American money, that would be about...one hundred and eighteen dollars."

Cal couldn't believe the man's words.

"$118?! For a peasant's shall?!"

The vendor, slightly offended, tried to talk some sense into Cal.

"But think of the poor women who risked their eyesight to produce a stitch that fine."

Ruth shuddered over this horrific detail that went into the making of this coat, and what she would end up losing if Cal and Rose's marriage didn't work out.

"Even so," Cal exclaimed. "I am not buying it for my fiancée. Rose, hand it over."

Rose clutched the coat tightly, refusing to let go of it.

"Never!"

"Rose, you heard what he said," replied Ruth. "Now give it back to the man."

Pouting slightly, Rose handed the coat back to the seller.

"Father would have bought it for me," she muttered to Ruth.

The mere mention of her late husband only reminded Ruth of how much he and Rose were alike.

"Think less of him, Rose. He spoiled you rotten."

Rose frowned and sulked back to the parlor suite, catching a quick glimpse of the Odell family leaving the ship in one of the tenders. She almost wished that she could have joined them. 

One of the eight people to disembark in Queenstown was 32-year-old Francis M. Browne, a teacher at Belvedere College in Dublin who was studying for the Jesuit priesthood. Browne was also an amateur photographer who had been busily snapping casual photographs of Titanic during the daylight hours since her departure from Southampton. Unlike the composed, artificial style of his professional contemporaries, Browne's photos were snapshots of what he saw and wanted to remember. Whether it was a boy playing on deck in the afternoon sun, or the ship's S-shaped wake in St. George's Channel as the Captain tested her compasses, his camera captured it with the immediacy of a sketchbook or a journal. At the time, he had no idea that his would be among the few photos taken of Titanic at sea. He was just another hobbyist in an increasingly popular medium: personal photography. His images were the last to show passenger life aboard Titanic as she was in April 1912.

In Third Class, Jack, Fabrizio, Ara and the Gundersen brothers watched a long line of people who would be joining them for the journey. Among them were Daniel Buckley, Martin Gallagher and one James Farrell, whom they greeted with a few "how do you dos", as well as five women by the name of Kate. Jack waved a simple hello to Katie Gilnagh while Fabrizio gave her a wolf-whistle. Katie gave Fabrizio an odd look before continuing on to her cabin.

"Was that even necessary, Fabri?" Jack asked in admonishment. "You know you already have a girl. What about that blonde girl?"

"She's my alternative."

"Alternative or not, you have to have your heart set on somebody who you want to spend the rest of your life with, and I think that the blonde girl seemed like the perfect choice for you."

Fabrizio took this advice to heart. He was planning to see Helga again, at dinner.

At 1:30 pm, Titanic rose anchor for the last time, steamed down St. George's Channel and made for the open sea. Almost all new passengers were young Irish people travelling Third Class, now there were over 700 men, women and children in steerage. They came from over a dozen lands, leaving behind their families, histories and old lives to follow a 70 year wave of emigrants seeking a better life in America and they were the true bread and butter of the transatlantic passenger trade, the real reason for Titanic's incredible size. Their cabins might have been small and rude compared to First Class, but with such large hopes and sacrifices, they were grateful to be westbound toward a new future in a new world.

As the ship steamed away, most of the immigrants stood out on the stern to take one final look at their native land. One of them, Eugene Daly, played "Erin's Lament" on his uilleann pipes. Some of the Irishmen and their wives sobbed, overpowered by the song. Most, but not all of them, would most likely never see Ireland, ever again.

One woman from Second Class, a Miss Nora Keane, could have sworn that she saw a vision of disaster when she saw the numerals "3606 04" on Titanic's hull which read "No Pope" when reflected in the water, causing her to drop her rosary and prayer book in fear. Naturally, this was an optical illusion of sorts, as her cabinmate Winnie Troutt observed that the water was much too choppy that afternoon for such a detailed reflection to be visible and no one else had ever seen such numbers on Titanic's plates.

Even at sea, Titanic's passengers could still send and receive telegrams. A powerful Marconi wireless set-up put them in contact with their world. Most liners who offered this service had a single operator at the Morse key, but Titanic had two telegraphists on the job for twenty four hour service. Jack Phillips and Harold Bride like many young men in the last few years, had seen the future in wireless communication and attended a special Marconi school to learn this exciting new trade. Using Titanic's call letters MGY, they would broadcast the words of her passengers five hundred to fifteen hundred miles beyond the flat horizon.

The equipment was in a room on the Boat Deck near the bridge. Both operators slept as well as worked here, ensuring that someone would always be present. Although Philips and Bride were employed by Marconi, the equipment itself was owned by White Star, and was a permanent installation. Titanic's Wireless Room had more soundproofing than Olympic's - the only technical improvement made by Thomas Andrews during his last-minute redesign of the ship's amenities. In general, wireless was almost an afterthought on ocean liners of this period. In 1912, radio communication was still in it's infancy, and Marconigrams were seen as more of a novelty for wealthy passengers than as an integral part of nautical navigation.

In order to send messages, one would have to visit the purser's office on C-Deck, write their message and then the purser would send it a via pneumatic tube to the room, from which there the message would be sent out. Which is something Cal did when writing to his father that he had boarded the ship and he, Rose and her mother were on their way to meet him in New York. When the message arrived at the wireless room, Phillips, who was celebrating his 25th birthday today, read it and said.

"Looks like a happy day for one Mr. Hockley," he said to Bride. "I hear he's getting married a few weeks."

"Who's his lady?" asked Bride.

"Rose, I think her name was."

"Lucky lady," muttered Bride before sending the message out.

Bride felt happy for Rose, seeing as he too was due to be married to a Miss Mabel Ludlow, a nurse back home in England. Had Rose been there with them, she would have made them think otherwise.

Later that afternoon, Jack wanted to take Fabrizio out to see the open water, hoping to catch a glimpse of a few dolphins. The portholes were not big enough for a big view and there was little chance of seeing them from the stern so they decided to make their way to the forecastle on top. Normally, passengers were not allowed there, but Jack Dawson was the kind of person who always knew when to take risks, so when no one was looking, they rushed to the bowsprit and looked down at the ship's prow cutting through the water like a knife. In the glassy wave, two dolphins appeared, under the water, running fast just in front of the steel blade of the prow.

After a few seconds, Jack noticed them.

"Look at that one!" Jack shouted. "I think it's gonna jump!"

Sure enough, one of them did. The dolphins were doing this for joy and with the exultation of the motion. They jumped clear of the water and dived back, crisscrossing in front of the bow and dancing ahead of the juggernaut. Jack grinned as he watched the dolphins jumping in and out of the water again and again.

On the bridge, Captain Smith had just accepted a cup of tea from Fifth Officer Harold Lowe when he noticed Jack and Fabrizio at the forecastle.

"I'll send them packing, if you'd like."

He was prepared to leave, Smith held him back.

"Let them be," the captain smiled. "I'm in too much of a good mood today. I do not think they'll be there that long."

Back at the forecastle, Jack grabbed onto the falls that wove all the way up to the crow's nest, letting the wind blow through his hair. He felt like he was flying.

"I can see the Statue of Liberty already!" Fabrizio grinned at his friend. "Very small of course."

But Jack didn't care, with the thoughts of homecoming penetrating through his mind, he just had to shout "I'M THE KING OF THE WORLD!!" at the top of his lungs so loudly, his lungs would have probably collapsed.

Breathing that magnificent sent of fresh ocean air under an overcast sky, Jack spread his arms out, closed his eyes and let the wind fill his ears as Titanic steamed on into the day.

"Wasn't that fun?" Jack asked Fabrizio as they prepared to join the Dahls for dinner that evening.

"Sì," Fabrizio said with Helga on his mind. "Maybe this time, she'll tell me her name."

"Lycka till med det," encouraged Olaus. "Jag hoppas bara att Björn och jag kan hitta någon som förstår oss."

Sure, enough, she was there with her family. As soon as they sat down, with Fabrizio thinking of what to say to her, a young man in a bowler hat and a suit matching his hair came up and asked, in an Irish brogue.

"Mind if I join ya?"

"No, by all means," Jack grinned, letting the man sit down next to him.

The Irish man offered a hand to Jack.

"I'm Tommy Ryan."

"Jack Dawson and this little guy here is my friend Fabrizio Di Rossi."

"You're Italian?" Tommy asked.

"Mio padre, my father, he came from Sicily, but my mama is Italian."

Fabrizio then looked back at Helga, who gave him a friendly look while Tommy had his eyes set on the evening sky.

"What shitty weather. Can't seem to get out of it, must be raining all across Ireland."

"Even though there wasn't?" Jack asked.

"Just my assumption," Tommy said before digging into his meal. "Call it the luck of the Irish, but I when I feel a tingle in me boot, it's a sure sign of rain."

"Å kjære, jeg håper det ikke regner i kveld," said Helga, whose concerns were unrelated to Tommy's observations.

"What did she say?" asked Tommy.

Helga's parents didn't know how to reply to someone in a foreign language, so they just shrugged.

But Fabrizio was just about ready, willing and able to tell his name to their daughter.

"I am Fabrizio," he gesticulated. "You are...?'

Helga understood the way he aimed his fingers from his heart to hers and gave her name.

"Helga," was all she said.

"I think she's beginning to understand me," Fabrizio smiled to Jack.

Jack continued watching the odd exchange between language barriers. He was hoping he would find someone who could speak English for a change.

The day was far from interesting as much as Rose saw it. She was still bitter over not getting the lace during the stop in Queenstown and she refused to speak during lunch, which surprisingly impressed Cal, given how much he preferred a woman who knew her place and kept her mouth shut. After lunch, she went to her room, changed into a green afternoon dress and hat and headed to the Reading and Writing Room for some light entertainment, her mother considering it improper for her to participate in any of the deck games. She sat on a sofa, reading Johnston's Civil War epic, The Long Roll, her ears picking up the gossipy voices of two Canadian women, Hélène Baxter and Bess Allison discussing Madeleine Astor's current condition. Rose thought they were being rude.

Why can't they just accept her for who she is instead of shunning her like she's a black sheep? Rose narrowed her eyes at Johnston's text.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a kindly voice.

"Can I sit next to you?"

Rose looked up; the woman's face was almost recognizable.

"Yes, I suppose. Have I seen you somewhere before?"

"Maybe you do, I'm Dorothy Gibson."

"The screen actress?" Rose's face brightened.

"The very same," Dorothy replied.

She sat down on the sofa beside Rose's left.

"I don't suppose you would have any interest in my crazy career seeing as you're a society girl and all that."

"Not at all, being a society girl can be very boring, especially since I'm being engaged to marry someone just so Mother won't have to find a job to support us. She's so lazy and thinks she's above everyone else."

"My mom's a bit like that sometimes," Dorothy smiled. "But I still enjoy her company."

"But to get to the point, Miss Gibson, my dream is to become an actress or an artist, instead of slaving away to some man with the morals of a parasite."

”So I’ve heard.,” Dorothy mused. “My husband George can have his moments, but I still love him.”

”Well, Cal is far from love. I don’t think any emotion touches him.”

“Maybe he is, maybe he isn’t,” Dorothy smiled. “But if it is independence that you desire, then all you have to do is believe in yourself and you can achieve anything. That’s how my mother encouraged me to enter the theater.”

”You don’t even know my mother,” Rose said.

And by some strange coincidence, Ruth appeared, looking both upset and relieved.

”Next time Rose, you could at least tell me where you are going before I decide to search the entire ship looking for you. Do you not realize that it is easy to get lost aboard a ship like this?”

”Mother, I needed some alone. Miss Gibson here kept me company.”

”How do you do?” asked Dorothy, extending her right hand to greet her.

"Pleasure," muttered Ruth.

And she gave Dorothy a quick handshake.

"Have you seen any of my films?" Dorothy asked.

"No, and I don't intend to," Ruth replied. "Motion pictures are nothing but a novelty for the destitute."

Then her steel gaze turned to Rose.

"Now come along, Rose, it's time we got ready for dinner."

Rose was less than interested.

"Couldn't I dine in my room for a change? Not everyone has the idea of dining with a roomful of people you know."

But as her mother often said many times before...

"A young lady of your stature must be presentable for all occasions, especially if she is due to be married."

Vehement over this little reminder, Rose gave in and they headed back to the cabin.

Dinner was quite as boring as last night, with Cal and her own mother boasting over the wedding details to C. M. Hays, the director of Grand Trunk Rail, Archibald Butt, John James Borebank and George Quincy Clifford, who later joined Cal in the smoking room on A-Deck while Rose and Ruth had French ice cream for dessert. The smoking room, which was constructed of the finest mahogany and an actual working fireplace, was the local retreat, the watering hole for First Class gentlemen to talk of dull topics like politics, business, their wives, as well as drinking and playing games. As he discussed his business practices with Widener, Astor, Guggenheim and the other men, two Canadians approached the table.

"Excuse us," said one. "But we couldn't help overhear your share of practices in business. May we join you?"

"Please," smiled Cal gesturing to the table.

The two Canadians sat opposite of Cal and three Americans.

"Normally," the other one said. "One doesn't go about introducing himself to a complete stranger, but I seem to know who you three are. I'm Hudson Allison and this is Harry Molson from Montreal, Canada."

"My name is Caledon Hockley."

"The Caledon Hockley?" Hudson cocked his head. "The rising young steel industrialist? I must say I am pleased to meet you."

"The pleasure is all mine, Hudson," Cal smiled. "I was just mentioning how business practices in America differ from our Canadian neighbors and...here you are."

"Was it your firm that loaded seven thousand tons of steel in the cargo hold at Southampton?" asked Harry. "I seemed to have noticed it when I came on aboard."

Cal, insure of the authenticity behind his words, merely smiled and said, in a rather superior tone.

"Yes, I believe it was."

"I think my business can stand to learn a few things from steel entrepreneurs like yourself," Hudson said. "I'm in the lumber business."

"Which makes you," Cal said smugly. "Far behind in the progress of construction. Everyone knows that steel and iron are the future, or so my father says. My father wasn't much interested in steel at first, preferring to play with his wooden houses, but after he saw how flammable lumber and wood are, he immediately changed his mind to creating a steel mill."

Hudson felt slightly insulted by Cal's words, but he pushed the subject aside to ask: "What about your other family affairs? I noticed you with two ladies at lunch and dinner. Have you known them long?"

"Those two ladies happen to be my soon-to-be-mother-in-law Ruth DeWitt Bukater and her daughter Rose."

"You're getting married?" Hudson asked. "Well, congratulations then. How did you ever meet her?"

The last thing Cal mentioned, taking up his time until the smoking room closed for the night, was how he got to know the object of his desire.

Trudy, Theresa and Lovejoy got along well with at least a few of the other maids and servants of First and Second Class in the Maids and Valets Saloon, among them being Roberta Maioni who was the Countess of Rothes' maid, Emma Sägesser, the maid of Madame Aubart, Rosalie Bidois, Madeleine Astor's personal maid and Ismay's valet Richard Fry and his secretary William Henry Harrison, whom Lovejoy had gotten along well with. Conversations between servants was nothing new to Trudy, and she hardly tried to make any conversation with the others since they were mostly engrossed on her own. Sitting next to her were the Allison family's servants, Alice Cleaver, Sarah Daniels, Mildred Browne and George Swayne. Alice looked pretty miserable as she ate slowly away at her plate.

"Should be eating with the children. It's my responsibility to look after them you know."

"If I may inquire," Trudy asked. "How old are they?"

"Loraine is two and Trevor is a few months old. I'm their nanny Alice Cleaver. The Allisons just hired me about two weeks ago."

"You certainly sound worried. Is something bothering you?"

"Not much," said Alice. "It's just that I had an awful dream last night. There was ice and water, children drowning and....it's too horrible to think about. I wouldn't trust what they say about this ship. No ship is unsinkable."

Trudy didn't know whether to laugh or feel sorry for Alice, but, thinking her employers would be the ones laughing at the matter, she decided to keep such third party visions to herself, when she went to sleep that night.

Chapter Text

Jack woke at dawn.

"I hope we're not too far from New York now," Fabrizio yawned.

"Sov i, om du vill," Olaus said, partially understanding his words. "Vi har fortfarande en lång väg att gå."

Fabrizio had no idea what he said, but he was looking forward to seeing Helga again.

He found her in the dining room eating her breakfast.

"Buongiorno," he greeted. "That's how we say 'hello' in Italy."

Helga just laughed, understanding little of his words.

Fabrizio turned to Bjorn, who was sitting next to him.

"You speakin' Norwegian, can you help me?"

"Bara lite," Bjorn said after taking a bite of his bread. "Men inte tillräckligt för en fullständig konversation."

Even so, Fabrizio tried again.

"Would you like to go out onto the deck, with me?" he tried as hard as he could.

Helga seemed to understand this time. Sadly, the same could not be said for her mother, who was more focused on her plate than any social engagements.

"Ikke gidder å snakke med ham, Helga," said Helena Dahl, the matriarch. "Han snakker ikke engang språket vårt."

"Men hva om han kan lære oss å snakke Engelsk, Mor?" Helga asked. "Vi trenger det hvis vi skal tilbringe resten av livet i Amerika."

"Vi lærer det når vi kommer dit," Olaf Dahl, the patriarch said sternly. "Du trenger ikke å skynde deg."

Despite the language barriers, Helga was looking forward to enjoying Fabrizio's company.

Then Tommy came in. He sat down next to Jack.

"Do any of you know that this is an Irish ship?"

"No, it's English!" Fabrizio argued. He had seen Titanic as a British ship ever since he first heard about it.

"I thought it English, too" said Ara.

"To you maybe, but it was built in Belfast. 15,000 Irishmen built this ship. Solid as a rock made by big Irish hands."

"You sound very patriotic," Jack smiled.

"Why shouldn't I be?" Tommy asked. "Though to be honest, I'm actually sad to be leaving home. I've run a proud potato farm back in the fields, but poverty and lack of opportunity gave me no choice. I spent my last farthings on fertilizer, but what good is having it if you don't have any roots to plant the potatoes? Like you, I'm just a fellow who's seeking a new life across the pond and maybe if I grew my own potato farm in America, I'll be rich and come back here in First Class. Then I can show those la-de-da millionaires up top where the real effort comes from."

"You think it's all that bad?" Jack asked. He had a small hunch that being rich was not as fun as he imagined it to be.

"Might as well be," Tommy said, shoving some crackers into his mouth. "They ain't nothing but a bunch o'snobs, they are."

Speaking of snobs, albeit a rather nice one, Rose had just spent some five minutes awake when there came a knock on the door.

"Come in," she replied politely.

The door swung open. Trudy was carrying a breakfast tray of fresh fruit.

"Good morning, Miss Rose," she greeted sweetly. "I hope you slept very good, I was up for most of the morning."

"To prepare that?" Rose was confused.

"No," said Trudy. "Just a little worried. Last night, I was talking with the Allison's nanny and she seemed to have a low opinion of the ship's safety, like she doesn't believe it's unsinkable."

Rose smiled.

"Finally, a change of air from all this optimism. At least I'm glad to know that you and I share a down-to-Earth view of the world."

Trudy, having known Rose most of her life, could only agree.

After Ruth had her breakfast served in bed by Theresa, and Cal and Ismay doing the same with their stewards, Rose picked out her dress for the day: a green afternoon dress with a red sash that was buttoned by a large red sunflower. Ruth came in her nightdress, asking Rose what she wanted to wear that would make Maggie Brown's day dress look like last year's smock.

"Anything you like," replied Rose, who was uninterested.

Her eye of modern fashion led to her distaste in corsets, which were going out of style around this period. But for Ruth's sake, Rose always had to wear one because her mother thought that shapeless women were unacceptable in society, and this rang true for other girls around Rose's age. Still, she reluctantly allowed Trudy to tie the corset onto her, got into her dress and ordered some Tapioca pudding for lunch.

Up on the bridge at midday, Captain Smith and the officers reported the ship's daily mileage: they had traveled 485 miles from Daunt's Rock. The crew was getting accustomed to their daily activities, but at this time, complaints were arising. There were problems with the ship's internal heating systems, but it was less of an issue with the First Class passengers, whose cabins and public rooms had individual electric heaters which emitted heat from thousands of incandescent electric lights.

Another problem came from the Second Class passengers. Two women, Lutie Parrish and her daughter Imanita Shelley, were unsatisfied with their small, cell-sized cabin and went to seek council with Purser McElroy about asking for another room. They did this about twelve times throughout the day, with Imanita explaining that she was ill and when she finally got her replacement cabin, four stewards had to carry her into it. Later on, she received a visit from the Second Class physician Dr. John Edward Simpson, telling her that she had to stay in her cabin. For this, her meals had to be brought in by her stewardess.

"The food was excellent," she reminisced, "but it seemed impossible to get it to me. My stewardess could not even get a tray to serve on and had to bring the different articles one at a time in her hand. There seemed to be no one in charge and no one to whom to turn for orders. The stewards and stewardesses were so willing, but could not get any action from their superiors."

At this point, there was no pleasing anyone. 

The shuffling of Second Class passengers and Rose's personal difficulties notwithstanding, life on Titanic was peaceful and uneventful, but still fun as the weather began to improve.

"Getting acquainted either with people or a ship is not an easy matter in bad weather. Both show to the worst advantage under unflattering conditions, but in this case, nothing prevented the spread of harmonious peace and good fellowship. The sky was blue and the sea a lazy calm as far as the eye could see every day. Contentment and restfulness, following the recent strain of departure, spread over Titanic as she cut her way proudly across the Atlantic."

That was what Violet Jessop said when it came to speaking for everyone aboard the ship. One Second Class passenger, a musician named Henry P. Hodges, was impressed as well:

"You don't notice anything of the movement of the ship," he wrote in a letter to his friend Hector Young. "On top deck there are twenty boys marching round and singing. Others are playing cards and dominoes; some are reading and some writing. Everything is quite different to what we thought to see at sea."

Thomas Andrews, feeling a little homesick for Ireland, was planning to look over some improvements with Ismay, who had the intention of inviting his "roommates" for a late afternoon snack in the Palm Court and the Verandah Café, a beautiful sunny spot enclosed by high arched windows on the port side of the ship. Margaret Brown came unannounced and wanted to join them to answer some curious questions about the ship. Ruth could only tolerate her prescience for as long as she could.

Rose was looking forward to a nice, quiet afternoon in her room, finishing her current chapter of The Long Roll (Clara Barton, a Civil War nurse had passed away this very day), but when she tried to persuade Ruth into staying behind, her mother shook her head, saying.

"You will do as you are told. It would reflect poorly on you for not showing a proper introduction to the ship's architect. Besides, you should spend a little less time sulking and a little more time thinking about standing up in front of 500 of society's finest."

So Rose obeyed. At the same time, she was wishing that her mother could understand that she was old enough to make her own decisions, especially since Ruth made her wear a black hat that was decorated with red gerberas. Rose thought of the hat as a "flowerbed with blood and fire encased in it's colored petals."

When they got to the Palm Court, she sandwiched between Cal and her mother with Maggie, Ismay and Andrews on the opposite end.

"So I suppose that Olympic and Titanic are the last word in shipbuilding?" Rose asked, trying to sound interested on the subject of Titanic.

"Of course they are!" Ismay exclaimed. "Titanic and Olympic are the largest moving objects ever built by the hand of man in all history. Mr. Andrews here designed them from the keel plates up, you know."

Mr. Andrews, who was eating a loaf of soda bread cooked up by Charles Joughin the chief baker, tried to spare himself of any embarrassment.

"Well, I and everyone else at the shipyard may have knocked her together, but the idea was that of Mr. Ismay and my uncle, William Pirrie. About five years ago, they envisioned a trio of steamers so grand in scale and so luxurious that it's Cunard and German rivals would never be challenged and here they are."

He tapped on the brown-topped square table three times.

"Willed into solid reality."

"Hear, hear," Cal agreed.

"Why are ships always bein' called 'she'?" asked Maggie.

"It's a rather complicated matter, Mrs. Brown," Mr. Ismay replied. "Sometimes it is because we do our best to take care of them, and sometimes it is because we love them."

"Not too insightful, but still a good answer," smiled Mrs. Brown.

A waiter came with a cart of sandwiches and other light meals, Ruth ordered tea for herself and Cal ordered a fish a sandwich for both her and Rose.

"You like these fish sandwiches, don't you, sweetpea?"

Rose gave Cal a plastic smile.

"You know, you could always ask me first," she said, trying not to sound angry.

Then her eyes turned to the lighter on the humidor, which gave  the opportunity to light the cigar she had kept in her purse, hoping to make the mealtime more...lightening. She placed the cigar in her holder and struck a match, lighting it.

"Tell me, Mr. Andrews, Mr. Ismay, do you approve of women who smoke?"

Before both men could answer, Ruth tried to prevent her daughter's precious lungs from filling with dangerous contents.

"You know that's unhealthy, Rose."

Too late, Rose struck a smoker's pose and gave her mother an indifferent mug. She wanted to say "Mother, if you're going to be a bitch, then I suggest you try a dog kennel," but instead, she blew a puff of smoke right into Ruth's face. Her eyes were so focused on the satisfaction of the smoke clashing against her mother's own that she didn't notice Cal stealing the cigar from the holder.

"I'll take that, thank you, Rose," he said quickly.

Rose sighed as Cal took a puff of the cigar. Maggie, feeling bad, verbally came to her aid.

"I'd let her be, if I was you, Cal," she warned. "In case you haven't known, I am a member of the suffragette movement and if Rose wants to smoke or not, it's her choice."

But all her words did was draw an odd look of stares from her peers, so she decided to move on.

"But enough about politics, who thought of the name Titanic, was it you Bruce?"

"Yes, actually, I wanted to convey sheer size, and size means stability, luxury and above all strength. Henceforth, I named Titanic after the Titans of Greek mythology."

"Nevertheless," blurted Rose. "The Titans were also punished by the Gods of Olympus for their arrogance. To name a ship after such monsters would not be a good move on your part. And no matter what the public says, no ship is really unsinkable no matter how strong it is."

Mr. Ismay scoffed, but Mr. Andrews thought that Rose made a good prediction.

"I guess that makes you Zeus, doesn't it?" Maggie chuckled.

"Well Zeus and his Titans didn’t exactly have the best relationship," said Rose as Cal shot her a look. "It’s a nice metaphor, Mr Ismay, but it doesn’t exactly inspire confidence.

Ruth looked morbid. After a short excuse, she took Rose by the arm and dragged her to the door that cordoned the cafe off from the Smoking Room.

"My God, Rose, what do you think you are trying to do? Insult their work?"

"Well, it's not as if they're solving world hunger." said Rose matter-of-factly.

"Brace yourself, Ruth. I sense the start of another tirade."

It wasn't the first time Rose had done something like this, going off on topics like socialism, women's suffrage, the plight of labor, and other things that Cal described as "naive liberalism". Apparently, she had picked these things up from too much reading. When Ruth's temper cooled, she brought Rose back to the table.

"I do apologize," she announced. "Ever since my husband died, Rose has had a bit of a rebellious streak."

"Good thing my daughter hasn't reached that age yet." Andrews smiled. "Who knows who she'll grow up to be in the next fifteen years?"

"I think she's going through a phase," Maggie said. "I know my children went through the same thing growing up."

"The fault also falls onto myself as well, Mrs. Brown," Cal smiled. "But I may have to start minding what she reads from now on."

Ismay was lucky that his own daughter Margaret, who had been married the previous month to Captain Ronald Cheape, was long past her rebellious years. Ruth, about a second later, was scolding Rose again:

"You should spend a little less time sulking and a little more time thinking about standing up in front of 500 of society's finest people when you haven't even chosen colors for the bridesmaids."

Rose had plenty to say about this remark, but the words never came out.

"I thought that was all settled," wondered Cal. "Isn't it peach? Or pale yellow? Or are we back to lavender?"

As Ruth and Cal spun off into a discussion of the wedding details, who to invite, what the place settings would be like, who would arrange the flowers, the design of the dress, etc, Rose's emotional state was beginning to waver. If there had been a fork next to her plate, she could have pressed it into her arm, harder and harder until it would draw blood. But instead, she got up without a word, drawing stares from everyone.

Titanic's Third Class General Room was so busy with the voices of many languages that Jack thought he needed a change of air. He, Fabrizio, Ara, Tommy and Helga decided to walk to the stern where they met the Cartmells.

"Mind if I draw you?" Jack asked Bert.

"Suit yourself," Bert replied. "I was just showing Cora here how the propellers work."

Cora smiled to Jack as he drew her and her father watching the propellers churning the North Atlantic. He was sitting on a fairlead roller with Fabrizio trying to teach Helga some words in English on his left. A crewmember came by, walking the Astor's Airedale Kitty and some other dogs.

"How typical," Tommy scoffed. "First Class dogs comin' up here to take a shite."

"What? Are you afraid they're gonna take a piss on your shoes?" joked Jack.

The three men laughed their asses off. Then Tommy asked.

"So do you make any money with your drawings?"

And that was when he saw her...a woman in a long creamy yellow dress and white gloves

He watched her unpin her elaborate hat and take it off. She looked at the frilly absurd thing, then tossed it over the rail. It sailed far down to the water and was carried away, astern. A spot of yellow in the vast ocean.

Her neatly made hair loosened and blew in the wind, dancing in tendrils across her face. She looked like a figure in a romantic novel, sad and isolated.

He was riveted by her...not just by her beauty, but by the sadness in her face, the tilt of her head. Jack flipped to a fresh sheet of paper and began to sketch her, capturing her emotional essence with a few efficient lines. She reminded him of a melancholy princess locked in a tower.

Fabrizio tapped Tommy, then Ara and they both watched Jack drawing the beautiful girl. Soon the drawing was forgotten, and Jack was just staring. Fabrizio and Tommy grinned at each other. Ara, on the other hand, thought that this beauty reminded him of his mother if she were an empress. He chose to remain silent, respecting Jack's privacy.

Rose turned suddenly and looked right at Jack. He was caught staring, and looked down. But then he glanced up and she was still looking at him. Their eyes met across the space of the well deck, across the gulf between worlds. Then she turned away.

"Ah, forget it, boyo. You'll never get next to the likes of her."

"Ah, forget it, boyo. You'll never get next to the likes of her."

And I am very sorry to say that Cal came in at that moment, jerking Rose's left arm away from the railing.

"Do you mind?" she asked. "I was enjoying the air."

"I hope you're proud of what you done," Cal said strictly. "Now go back inside and apologize to everyone!"

"For what? Speaking the honest truth about a ships' vulnerability? Why shouldn't I be allowed to express the harsh realities of the world?"

"Just get inside!" Cal seethed with fury.

With an exasperated sigh, Rose went back into the café to meet the worried glances of Maggie, Ismay, Andrews, and the less-than-pleased face of her mother.

"I hope you have a good explanation for your behavior, young lady, because-"

She noticed the lack of a certain headwear.

"Rose, where is your hat?"

"That dreadful, frilly thing? I threw it away."

Ruth tried to keep herself from yelling.

"Rose, do you have any idea how much that hat cost?!"

"Why are you so obsessed with money?!" Rose cried.

She expected her mother to say the same thing she had told her when she tried reconsidering Cal's hand the first time.

"No money means we'll be on the street, my dear Rose and don't you forget it!"

But instead, for once, Ruth gave a silent glare.

"Never mind. I'll get dressed for dinner."

Rose's tone of defeat was pretty much the second to last straw for what her life was becoming, an enforced one.

Maybe if I was poor, I could do whatever I want, Rose reflected on the steerage passengers below.

At the same time, Rose was becoming so fed up with how Titanic was being praised, that she wished it would sink with everyone on board.

Jack could hardly keep his mind off the red-haired maiden even as he joined his friends for dinner. The Cartmells were accompanying them, and Cora was trying in the most polite way to catch Jack's attention, but not even her offering of food would attract his attention.

"Jacky, you've hardly touched your plate," Tommy said in a fatherly tone.

"I can't help it," Jack said at last. "That girl was something else."

"There's no point in thinking about her," said Fabrizio.

Tommy agreed with a merciless tone.

"She's in another world, Jackie boy. You'd as likely grow wings and fly as even ever talk to a girl like that. And then what would you have to talk about, eh?"

"She looked right at me," said Jack.

"You just know she's got some rich boyfriend, some bastard with plenty of money and a shiny motorcar, a house in the country and servants to wipe his bottom for him. Some guy that can buy her jewels and champagne and caviar. Where you gonna take her for a fine evening out? The corner pub for a pint?"

"Maybe, depending on how happy she is, because when I looked at her she was very unhappy."

"'appy or not, I agree with 'im," said Fabrizio, pointing to Tommy. "She's obviously a princess with all the men in the world throwin' her money at her. You should get some air or something. I want some alone time with Helga."

Taking his friend's advice, Jack took a scoop of his rice and walked aft towards the stern with only a few cigarettes in his pockets.

By sundown, 21 of Titanic's 29 boilers were lit; an impressive feat as the ship was only designed to do about 21 knots. With these boilers lit, she was already doing well. Even Frederick Barrett, the head stoker, smiled in amusement, as his mates, known as the "black gang", sang a lively chant as they shoveled coal into the furnaces.

With Ismay attending a dinner party with Andrews and Captain Smith in the A La Carte Restaurant, The DeWitt Bukaters and Cal decided to spend dinner in the dining saloon as usual with Noel and the Duff-Gordons. Dinner that night was lively and chatty, with Cal ordering Halibut with shrimp sauce, Ruth ordering lobster a la Newberg and everyone else shared a sirloin of beef and ox tongue. Nearby, the five man band of First Class had just finished playing "Wedding Dance" by Paul Lincke.

But Rose was staring down into the emptiness of her plate, which reflected the sadness and the hollow shell her life had become. In it, she could she her whole life as if she already lived it: an endless parade of parties, cotillions, yachts, polo matches, the same narrow people, the same materialistic things, the same mindless chatter, ad infinitum.

With nobody even noticing, she left the table and went back to her room.

She was completely composed by the time she returned to the B-Deck landing. Steward Herbert Cave, who was coming the other way, greeted her with a wave and she nodded with a slight smile. As much as Rose felt like pouring out her problems to a random stranger, Mr. Cave didn't seem like the right person to talk to, for he was a man on duty.

Upon entering B-56, she let out a sigh as she dropped her purse on the bedside table and removed her gloves.

"Trudy?" Rose asked.

No reply came.

"Trudy, I need you!"

But unfortunately for Rose, Trudy was with Theresa and Lovejoy in the Maids and Valets Saloon, leaving her in the merciful grip of the Empire styled evening dress that was suffocating her. She stood before the vanity mirror, pulling off her emerald necklace, her earrings and then finally her hair, tugging it down with her own fingernails, not having the current sense to find her hair brush. She even tried pulling her dress off with her bare hands, but gowns in 1912 were not built for practical wear and with a primal, anguished cry, her hands went flying, tearing at herself, her clothes, her hair...then attacked the room. She flung everything off the dresser, a jewelry box, a perfume bottle, the butterfly hair comb that was the last birthday gift her father had even given her. She hurled a handmirror against the vanity, cracking it.  Finally she smashed her fisted hands into the dresser surface of the vanity, but there wasn't enough strength in her to judo chop it into two sections.

At last, she looked up at her reflection: it was pathetic, practically everything she never wanted to be. In the place of an artist, Cal would have set up a proper lady and she would not be free, but basically everything that those who controlled the morning, the noon and the night wanted her to be. But who could she talk to about her problems? Talking to her mother was like talking to a brick wall, Cal would just shoot her down with a rather indecent comment and the servants were nowhere to be seen; she had but one person left to her in the depths of death: her father.

Making her decision, Rose slapped her reflection in the mirror and bolted straight out of the room.

Rose, disheveled, her hair flying, her cheeks streaked with tears, angry, furious, shaking with emotions she didn't understand like hatred, self-hatred and desperation, ran down the B-Deck corridor. Richard and Sallie Beckwith, returning from an outside stroll with their stepdaughter Helen, were almost run over by the troubled girl in the aft Grand Staircase. Helen and Richard looked concerned but Sallie was shocked by the emotional display in public.

She kept on running, up the aft staircase, down the promenade deck, down the Second Class stairs and finally made her way back to B-Deck where she came outside. Passing through the gate, she ran towards the poop deck, catching the attention of Quartermaster George Rowe and two other sailors, but knowing very well that they were not to leave their posts, they decided not to bother with her.

Nearby, Jack was kicked back on a bench, gazing at the stars blazing gloriously overhead. Smoking on a cigarette, his head filled with artistic thoughts, wondering what the vast emptiness of the universe had to offer.

But his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of running footsteps. He looked up to see a flash of red hair that was more natural than the dress she was wearing...his princess.

Rose ran across the deserted fantail. Her breath hitched in an occasional sob, which she suppressed. Rose slammed against the base of the stern flagpole and clung there, panting. She stared out at the black water. This was it, she thought, one jump and her father would be there to comfort her for all eternity. With that settled, she began to climb over the railing. She had to hitch her dress up on the way, climbing carefully. Moving methodically, she turned her body and set her heels on the white-painted gunwale, her back to the railing, facing out toward the blackness. 60 feet below her, the massive propellers churned the Atlantic into white foam, and a ghostly wake trailed off toward the horizon. A few inches above her, the Union jack

She stood like a figurehead in reverse as she kept staring down into the water, ready to make her choice.

From behind, Jack approached, knowing very well what she was doing. His right arm raised. It spoke with his voice.

"Don't jump!"

Rose whipped back, looking over her left shoulder.

"Don't come any closer!"

But Jack saw the tear tracks in her eyes in the running lights of the stern and offered his right hand.

"No you won't."

Rose scrunched her face, confused.

"What do you mean? You shouldn't presume to tell me what I should or should not do! You don't even know anything about my problems!"

"Well, maybe if you just told me, I would--"

"You're just distracting me!" Rose cut him off. "Go away!"

"I wish I could, but I'm too involved now," Jack took off his jacket. "If you let go, I'm gonna have to jump in there after you."

"But you'll be killed!" protested Rose. "The fall alone would kill you!"

"Not to worry, miss," Jack mused as he removed his shoes. "I'm a good swimmer. The fall would hurt, but I'm more concerned about the water being cold."

Rose looked down. The harsh reality of what she was doing was starting to sink in.

"How cold?" she asked.

"Freezing," Jack said. "Maybe a couple of degrees over. I know this because when I was a kid, I went ice fishing on the Chippewa River with my father and the catch I caught was so big, it pulled me down through the thin ice. I almost froze to death, but my dad saved me. I'll probably never forget that day, because I remember the water hitting me like a thousand knives stabbing me everywhere, I couldn't breathe, I couldn't think about anything but the pain..."

He continued glancing at Rose, who was not budging at least by an inch.

"Now that I've convinced you," Jack said, undaunted by her lack of movement. "I'm kinda hoping you'll come back over the rail and get me off the hook here."

"I think you're insane," Rose huffed snootily.

But when she looked back down again, her highfalutin exterior began to decay.

"That's what everybody says, but with all due respect, miss, I'm not the one hanging off the back of a ship."

Jack slowly made the first step up to Rose, reaching his right hand out.

"Now come on and give me your hand. Trust me, you don't want to do this."

"All right."

At that moment, with his hand extended all the way, Rose decided to live. Overcome by vertigo, she unfastened one hand from the rail and reached it around toward him. He reached out to take it, firmly. She could still spook and pull away in an instant. His voice was calm and even. She took his hand, slowly and carefully turned to face his eyes and somehow, they seemed to fill her universe.

”What is your name?” she asked.

”I’m Jack Dawson,” he smiled.

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Dawson," replied Rose as she took the first step up. "My name is--"

But no sooner had she made the first step, when her right shoe stepped on the beaded layer of her dress, and she plunged, letting out a piercing shriek. Jack, gripping her hand, was jerked toward the rail. Rose barely grabbed a lower rail with her free hand. She tried to pull herself back up, but again, her foot slipped on her dress, screaming again:

"PLEASE! HELP ME!!"

"I won't let go!" Jack cried. "Now pull yourself up!"

Nearby on the well deck, Quartermaster Rowe heard her cries. He dispatched one of the sailors to see who was in trouble. By the time he got there, he found Jack pulling Rose onto the deck, sprawled on top of each other.

"What is all this?" he asked.

What he saw was not a pretty picture. Rose's dress was torn, and the hem was pushing up above her knees, showing one ripped stocking. He looked at Jack, a shaggy steerage man with his jacket off, and the First Class lady clearly in distress. Things started to click for him. He gave Jack a mean look.

"Stand back and don't move an inch!"

Jack stood where he was and tried to explain.

"Sir, it's not what it looks like."

"Save it for the Master-At-Arms," the seaman said. "I'm sure he'll know how to handle rapists like you."

And off he went.

It took a matter of twenty minutes for Thomas King, one of the two Master-At-Arms onboard to reach the stern and detain Jack. Cal, Mr. Widener, Mr. Thayer, Lovejoy and the son of a Civil War veteran from Mobile, Alabama, Colonel Archibald Gracie IV, had been informed of the incident from King and went to investigate. Cal was relieved to see Rose, but when he saw Jack, he wrapped his coat around Rose for comfort and stormed up to the young man, shouting.

"What made you think you could put your hands on my fiancée?!"

"It wasn't like that!" Jack cried in protest.

"Don't give me any of that shit, you filth!" remarked Cal, pushing Jack like he was some kind of schoolyard bully.

Rose would not stand for it.

"Cal, leave him alone! It was an accident!"

"An accident?" Cal found it hard to believe.

"It was a rather stupid accident, really," Rose chuckled.

She was not intending to tell Cal the entire truth about what had happened minutes earlier. If he did, who knows what he would have done to her.

"I was learning forward and I slipped," was all Rose had to say.

"Any reason behind as to why you slipped?" asked a curious Mr. Widener.

"I was leaning far over to see the-"

Rose tried to find the word, but it was completely vacant from her repertoire. Her right index finger made a spinning motion.

"Propellers?" asked Cal.

"Yes! The propellers! And I slipped! And I would have gone overboard had it not been for Mr. Dawson here saving me and he almost went over himself."

Cal just laughed.

"How funny! Wanting to see the propellers. On this part of the ship with all the peasants?"

"I think they're humble," argued Mr. Thayer.

"Well, it's like I say," explained Colonel Gracie in his Southern drawl. "Women and machinery don't mix."

The Master-At-Arms stuck his lips into Jack's left ear.

"Was that the way of it?"

Jack turned to Rose, her eyes begging him to say "please tell them my version". Jack smiled and said, after three seconds of silence. 

"Yeah. That was pretty much it."

"Looks like the boy's a hero then!" exclaimed Mr. Thayer.

"Good for you," added Mr. Widener.

"So it's all's well and back to our brandy, eh?" asked Colonel Gracie.

Thayer, Gracie and Widener went back inside, King uncuffed Jack and everyone else seemed just about ready to leave when Jack asked.

"You know, when a person saves a person's life, they are usually rewarded with somethin'."

Cal, remembering his etiquette, looked over to his valet.

"Mr. Lovejoy, I think a twenty should do it."

Rose found it unsatisfactory.

"Twenty dollars? Is that really the going rate for saving the woman you love? I think he deserves something grander. Why not we invite him for dinner tomorrow evening? I'm sure he'd love to meet Mother and the rest of the elite."

"I'd be up for it," Jack smiled.

"Then it's settled," said Cal. "You will join us for dinner tomorrow evening to regale our group with your heroic tale."

"Sure, I'll be there. And in case you forget my name, it's Jack Dawson."

"Well, we'll see you then, Mr. Dawson," Cal said before leading Rose away.

Lovejoy was just about to follow him when Jack caught his attention with a whistle.

"Hey, can I bum a smoke with you?"

"I'd be more than happy to give you a cigar, but personally, I don't smoke with the lower classes, I find them untrustworthy."

"You can trust me, Mr..."

"Lovejoy, Spicer Lovejoy."

"Really? You don't look like someone who's full of love or joy to me," Jack joked, hoping to get at least a giggle out of him.

But no, there he stood, perfectly stoic, as if he did not have a soul in his body. Lovejoy leaned down at him, observing his untied shoes.

"And you don't like someone who claims what he says to be. I find it suspicious that the young lady slipped so suddenly and you still had time to remove your jacket and your shoes."

"I guess I broke the speed record," cracked Jack again.

But this time, he felt a little worried on the inside. With nothing else to say, Lovejoy handed Jack a cigar, lit it with his own lighter and the humorless valet strode away.

A few smokes and a couple of coughs later, Jack returned to his cabin. He was looking forward to telling friends about his heroic venture at breakfast the next morning.

With her mother asleep, and Ismay playing bridge in the sitting room with his dinner party guests, Rose decided to retire for the night. She cleaned up the mess from her tirade (taking notice that her hand mirror was cracked) and pressed the call button on the door.

"You rang, ma'am?" the steward who answered was Henry Etches.

"Yes, could you fetch my maid Trudy Bolt? She and my mother's maid are in E-14."

"Right away, ma'am."

It took nearly eighteen minutes, but it was worth it when Trudy came to Rose's long overdue aid.

"Sorry for not being here earlier, miss," Trudy replied upon entering. "The food they serve in the saloon was quite nice."

"So was the man I met," Rose replied. "He's from steerage, but he seems rather nice. His name is Jack Dawson. He saved me from falling overboard."

Hearing the last word piqued Trudy's interest.

"Overboard?"

"Let us say that I wanted to see the propellers," was all Rose had to say.

As soon as she was free from that dreadful dress, Rose thanked Trudy and sent her away. Now she could easily slip into her nightdress and comb the rest of her hair down. She was combing it halfway down when someone opened the door from the corridor. Cal was holding a black velvet jewel case in his right hand, no doubt.

"Rose, I know you've been melancholy and I don't pretend to know why."

"Are you going to tell Mother about my little slip?" asked Rose, who was still staring at the mirror.

"I don't intend to. But I do intend on presenting you with this."

He sat down on the dresser and opened up the jewel case. Inside was a necklace, a huge, dark blue stone glittering with an infinity of scalpel-like inner reflections.

"Good gracious, Cal, it looks so beautiful," exclaimed Rose, trying to think highly of it.

Cal chuckled lightly.

"I was going to save it for the engagement gala next week, but I decided to Hell with it. Consider this gift a reminder of my feelings for you."

Cal took the necklace and placed it around her throat. He got off the dresser and turned her to the mirror, staring behind her. Rose was not nearly as swooningly overwhelmed as Cal would have hoped. She knew the cost of such a fabulous diamond. She also knew that to Cal, paying such a price was a measure of his power and wealth, and not his love for her. In fact, in a moment of clarity she realized that she was much like the diamond to him, a prize of great value, something to show the world how great Caledon Hockley was. On the curious side, she asked.

"Where did you get it from?"

"From Asprey & Garrard while we were in Paris. According to them, it was once worn by Louis the Sixteenth, which was thought to be lost after he was executed, but it was found and recut into the heart-like shape you see today. They call it Le Coeur de la Mer, the Heart of the Ocean."

Rose could feel the weight of the diamond increasing on her. Her right hand clutched it tightly. On this night of all nights, she was not prepared to deal with Cal's gift. In addition to it's weight, the blue stone seemed somehow malevolent to her... too large, out of all proportion. Beautiful, but ominous.

Her voice however, found a compliment.

"It's overwhelming, I-I don't know what to say."

"But I do," Cal smiled, trying to look genuine. "There's nothing I couldn't give you except love, there's nothing I'd deny you if you would deny me. Open your heart to me, Rose, that is all. Let our hearts become one."

Of course his gift was only to reflect the light back onto himself, to illuminate the greatness that was Caledon Hockley. It was a cold stone...a heart of ice. Rose could still feel it's weight even after she took it off and had Cal put it back in the safe. When she went to bed, the avoirdupois started to go away, but her dreams were plagued with the diamond's weight dragging her down into the deep blue sea. She made it clear that she was never going to wear that dreadful, heavy thing again.

The thoughts that troubled Rose in her sleep were nothing compared to the dangers of the sea. As she entered the sweetness of sleep, Titanic received her first ice warning. The sender was Captain Charles-Fernand Caussin of the French liner La Touraine. His message was directed to Captain Smith, which read:

"My position 7pm GMT Lat 49.28 long 26.28 W dense fog since this night crossed thick icefield lat 44.58 long 50.40 Paris saw another icefield and two icebergs lat 45.20 Long 50.09 Paris saw a derelict lat 40.56 long 68.38 Paris please give me your position.

Best regards and Bon Voyage.

Caussin"

Harold Bride passed the message onto the bridge. The officers, however, found no cause for alarm. North Atlantic ice was a common occurrence in the early spring. Captain Smith gave the position of reported ice to Fourth Officer Boxhall, who marked the location on the map in the chartroom.

As Smith retired for the night, Titanic sailed on into an uneventful evening.

Chapter Text

The next day was a bright and sunny Saturday. Rose would remember feeling the sun as though she hadn't felt the sun in years, as she soon found out when she went out onto the boat deck. Perhaps it was due to the fact that she wasn't wearing a hat. Maybe it was something else. After breakfast, she told Ruth that she was going for a stroll around the deck, and that's exactly what she did...for a while. On the port side of the First Class entrance, she met Dorothy Gibson.

"Hello again, Miss Rose," Dorothy greeted.

"Hello again, Dorothy," Rose smiled.

"Taking a stroll by yourself, I see?"

"I was just heading to Third Class to talk to a friend of mine, not that you would be that interested in coming--"

"No, I would love to see it for myself. Personally, I'm starting to find my accommodations a little stuffy for me as well and I could use a nice change of air. But how do we get there?"

"I asked the purser just before I came up," Rose replied. "He couldn't find Mr. Dawson's name on the list, but he was able to direct me to where he might be: Third Class' General Room. It's a bit aft of here."

"I'd like to meet Mr. Dawson, too," said Dorothy as they headed forward. "What is he like?"

"I do not know much about him," replied Rose. "But I have a feeling that he may have an open view of the world."

Remembering where she saw Mr. Dawson last night, Rose headed for the stern via the Second Class stairs with Miss Gibson walking behind. When they got there, they were amazed by the busy, boisterous activity of the room. Jack was playing with Cora, drawing funny faces together in his sketchbook. Ara was speaking with some of the other Armenian passengers about their new life in America. Fabrizio sat on a bench next to Helga, trying to teach her some more English words like "tree" and "bird". Some of these words were Italian, which Helga picked up almost instantly. Her mother found this to be so confusing, that she tapped Helga's shoulder and said.

"Helga, ikke bry mannen. Som faren din sa, vi lærer engelsk så snart vi kommer til Amerika."

"Men hvorfor vente?" Helga was impatient.

"Han er ikke lærer," said her father.

"Don't think of my parents," Helga said in her best English to Fabrizio. "They, don't understand you."

Jack sat down next to Fabrizio.

"I see you two are getting along quite well."

"Si," Fabrizio smiled ecstatically.

Then he noticed a faint glimmer of pride shining off of Jack's face.

"You seem to be in a good mood. As much as me, eh?"

"Yeah," said Jack. "Would you believe me if I said that I saved the life of that girl I was staring at last night?"

Tommy, who had taken his time away from the piano to admire some of Jack's sketches, overheard him.

"You mean that angel of a princess whom you'll never--"

Before he could remind Jack about the whole spiel of class differences and the like, time seemed to slow down for everyone in the room.

Rose and Dorothy were coming down the stairs, the light bouncing off their dresses like angels in lace. Rose felt suddenly self-conscious as the steerage passengers stared openly at this princess, some with resentment, others with awe, even Helga's parents were impressed. Alfred Rush thought she looked like a goddess. Lillian Goodwin looked a little jealous of her beauty. She stared at for Rose so long that her mother had to snap her back to reality by wheeling her around to face her.

"Lillian, stop that!" scolded Augusta. "You shouldn't stare at people more fortunate than yourself. It makes them feel bad."

Lillian, understanding this, nodded her head.

Upon reaching the middle, Rose saw Jack and gave a little smile, walking straight to him. He got up to meet her, smiling. Dorothy approached Jack as well, curious to meet him.

"Hello again, Mr. Dawson," said Rose quietly.

"Hello again," Jack replied. "I was just telling my friends here how I saved your life last night."

"You did?" Tommy could not believe any of it.

Rose looked behind to Dorothy, then at Jack's friends, who were still staring at her. She didn't seem ready to express her feelings out loud to a bunch of strangers.

When Jack saw her, he stood up to greet her.

"Could I speak to you in private?"

"Uh, yes. Of course. Where?"

"Maybe outside, where you saved me?"

Jack thought it morbid, but such a thing was not about deter him, and neither did Rose. Her mood today was on the cusp of courage.

So while Dorothy entertained the children on the piano, Jack and Rose walked right back up to the very place they met. Some mothers were up there already, reading to their children in chairs. Rose and Jack took an empty one on the port side. Rose felt like commenting as to how out of place she looked in her clothes, but instead, she offered a compliment.

"I want to thank you for what you did. Not just for pulling me back, for your discretion."

Jack's reply was natural and nervous. Cal sounded very rehearsed and trying too hard to be perfect compared to him.

"Thanks. I mean thanks for thanking me. I mean, you're welcome."

"I feel like such an idiot. It took me all morning to get up the nerve to face you."

"Well," said Jack sincerely. "If you let go of that railing, you would have been a complete idiot."

"Yes," laughed Rose. "A First Class idiot."

Another thought crossed Rose's mind.

"Would you really have jumped after me?"

"I don't know," said Jack while he was thinking about it. "I might have. It just popped into my head... you know, I was trying to get you to do something."

"Yes. People are always trying to get me to do something. To do what they think is best."

Truth be told, Rose like his answer. He was so honest compared to her peers.

"By the way, you never really told me your name."

"Rose. Rose De Witt Bukater."

"I may hafta get you to write that down. So Rose... is that short for anything? Like Rosemary or Roseanna?"

Rose shook her head.

"Just Rose. A simple little flower without a thought in its head."

"Not necessarily true," said Jack. "Roses are complex... you ever pull one apart? The petals just get smaller and smaller down to infinity. And they're the only flower that can draw blood."

Rose was starting to be as fascinated by Jack as Jack obviously was by her. She noticed his sketchbook and asked:

"What is this? May I see it?"

So Jack opened the sketchbook, handing it to her. A couple of loose sketches fell out and were taken by the breeze. Jack scrambled after them... but they were gone, over the rail. Instead of mourning, Jack just laughed.

"I can always make some more. And besides, they didn't think too much of them in old Paree."

"Well, isn't that a coincidence! I was there recently."

Rose looked at his sketches... each one an expressive little bit of humanity: a smile, two hands, a sleeping man, a father and daughter at the rail. The faces were luminous and alive. His book was a celebration of the human condition.

Jack explained more about his interest in the art scene.

"I worked his way to France on a freighter to see what all the fuss was about with the art movement there, and I didn't understand what these cubists and dadaists were doing. Anyone can make such scrawls. I like the impressionists though, because they see light in a way that makes sense to me. I even hitchhiked down to Giverny to see Monet, but all I saw was his back through a knot-hole in the fence around his garden."

Then Rose came upon a series of nudes. She was transfixed by the languid beauty he had created. His nudes were soulful, real, with expressive hands and eyes. They felt more like portraits than studies of the human form... almost uncomfortably intimate. Still, she had to ask:

"Were these drawn from life?"

"Of course they were," replied Jack. "One of the great things about Paris is that lots of girls are willing take their clothes off. Some would just be models. Even a starving American artist like as myself gets some respect."

She looked at a few others.

"I can tell you liked this woman," she said. "You used her several times."

"She had beautiful hands," Jack referred to the drawing of her hands.

"Did you have a love affair with her?" Rose asked.

"Just with her hands," Jack admitted humbly. "She was a one-legged prostitute."

Jack showed her a full-bodied portrait of the woman in question, giving her a full view of what she meant by one-legged. Rose gave a sour reaction, seeing as it wasn't a pretty picture.

"At least she had a good sense of humor," Jack added.

"Any other women you had your eyes on?" asked Rose.

"There was one, a lovely lady who used to sit at a bar, the Bar de la Lune, every night and wearing every piece of jewelry she owned waiting for her long lost love. We all called her Madame Bijoux."

Rose seemed thoroughly impressed.

She studied one drawing in particular, the girl posed half in sunlight, half in shadow, lying on a divan with her head facing her, face and eyes upturned straight toward the artist. Her hands lay at her chin, one furled and one open like a flower, languid and graceful. Her eyes seemed to gleam in a half-shadowed face. The drawing was like an Alfred Steiglitz print of Georgia O'Keefe, intimate and real rather than romanticized beauty.

"Some of her soul is in this one," mused Rose before looking at Jack. "I can tell you have gift: of seeing people."

Then she turned to another drawing. It took her a long time to register that this woman was herself.

"You see? How sad the lines are."

"That's you," said Jack. "Yesterday. You were feeding hats to the fish."

Rose was embarrassed for a split second. Then she studied the drawing, looked in a little further and...

"It is me! So that's why you were staring at me so rudely! Well, you're forgiven."

 For a moment, she seemed quiet, then asked.

"I wish I could be like you, Jack. Chucking it all in to become an artist. Heading out to the horizon whenever I feel like it, living in a garret, poor but free!"

"I don't think you would surive two days," Jack smiled, at the same time, not wanting to sound bad. "There's no hot water, no servants and hardly any caviar."

Rose cringed at the mention of the food.

"Eww! I hate caviar! I don't mind cold or hot water and when it comes to servants, I can be capable of taking care of myself as well as making my own decisions. I'm as strong and as sturdy as a horse! I'm also tired of people dismissing my dreams with a chuckle and a pat on the head."

Jack rested his chin on his right hand.

"Is that why you're unhappy?"

"I know what you're thinking: 'poor little rich girl, what does she know about misery?'"

"I didn't say that."

"It's fine. I don't know how to say it, but it's like...sometimes it's like I've vanished. Like I've ceased from being the subject of my own life to become the object of others. Here I am, sitting before you: the product of the very best girl's schools which are nothing but machines for compressing the soul into the smallest possible area."

Jack was now feeling sorry.

"I promise you, I will never dismiss one of your dreams again."

Rose nodded.

"Good. As long as I play the role of the china doll everything's fine, but if I open my mouth to express an opinion on something that matters, they look at me like my hair's on fire. And God forbid I should be unhappy in my perfect, gleaming world. Nobody knows a thing that is inside of me."

"Is that why you decided to go to here and practice your high diving?"

Rose nodded again.

"Yes, and I wanted to show them all. To teach them a thing about not listening to me."

"They will be sorry, because you would be dead."

Rose gave placid sigh and looked out to the ocean, which seemed so warm and inviting compared to the dark mass the night before.

"Now about that penguin last night, is he your boyfriend?"

"You mean Cal? Worse, I'm afraid, he's my fiancée."

And she showed him her wedding ring, which, thankfully was not as big as the Heart of the Ocean.

"Gawd, look at that thing!" Jack felt like laughing. "You would have gone straight to the bottom."

"And that's not even the worst of it. 500 invitations had gone out and all of Philadelphia society, including the Wideners and the Thayers will be there and all the while I feel like I am standing in the middle of a crowded room screaming at the top of my lungs and no one even looks at me."

Jack quickly processed the entire ordeal.

"So let me get this straight, you feel like you're stuck on a train you can't get off because you're marrying this fella?"

"Yes."

"So don't marry him.

"If only it were that simple," said Rose sadly. "My mother is forcing me to marry him just for the sake of financial security. My father died recently and now our estate is in bankruptcy."

"What has she never heard of hard work?"

Rose imagined her mother working to the bone in a lace factory. The mental image was so funny, she nearly laughed.

"She'd rather die."

Another laugh.

"But that's terrible, Rose," sympathized Jack. "We should be free to choose who we love and marry....unless you love the guy right?"

Rose shook her head.

"I'd rather not talk about it. Why not we take a stroll on deck instead?"

And that is exactly what they did.

In the First Class Reception Area, Ruth had taken the time to chat with the Countess of Rothes and Gladys Cherry about the future she planned for Rose, leaving Marian Thayer and Eleanor Widener to themselves in disappointment, believing that Ruth was just too good for them both. Of course, she wanted to be seen in the highest of society, and this desperation of wanting to keep her wealth was going to her head.

"But the purpose of university is to find a suitable husband," Ruth was just saying. "Rose has already done that."

Then she noticed an unpleasant figure coming up to them.

"That vulgar Brown woman," she hissed to the ladies under her breath. "Let's get up before she sits with us!"

They got up as quickly as they could, turning to face Maggie with their best smiles.

"Hello, ladies, I thought I might catch you at tea."

"We're awfully sorry, but you just missed it,' Ruth tried to sound as genuine as she could to prevent Mrs. Brown's feelings from getting hurt. "The Countess and I were just about to take a stroll on the boat deck."

"What a lovely idea!" beamed Maggie. "I need to catch up on my gossip."

It seemed unfortunate that the three had to be seen in the prescience of a woman with inferior heritage and as they walked out of the room towards the elevators, Ruth looked desperately for a last minute addition to their clique. At the second to last table near the stairs, she saw Mrs. Elizabeth Lines of Burlington, New Jersey and her daughter Mary. The two were on their way home to her son Howard's graduation from Dartmouth. Ruth, recognizing her from a society page, stropped the group and approached the two women.

"Hello, Mrs. Lines, would you like to join us on a stroll of the boat deck?"

"No thank you," said Mrs. Lines politely. "I haven't even finished my coffee yet."

"I understand, please continue," Ruth said. Now it looked like she was going to be stuck listening to Maggie's stories about her husband Johnny and a bunch of other tall tales from out west. 

The ladies left and Mrs. Lines went back to one of her favorite pastimes: eavesdropping, and she was aiming her irises on Captain Smith and Bruce Ismay, who were two tables away from her.

Ismay, with an eye on public relations, was eager to have Titanic beat Olympic's maiden voyage speed, considering how surprised he was when Titanic performed better than her sister. But the Blue Riband award for transatlantic speed was well beyond Titanic's grasp.

"So 8 of the boilers are out?" Ismay asked the captain.

"Indeed they are," said Captain Smith in a voice that Mrs. Lines couldn't hear. "But even without them, I think we're making excellent time."

Ismay gave a small smile at this.

"Well, we did better today than we did yesterday, we made a better run today than we did yesterday, we will make a better run tomorrow. Things are working smoothly, the machinery is bearing the test, the boilers are working well and maybe with some extra power to spare, we will beat the Olympic and get in to New York on Tuesday."

"I'm glad to see you in a good mood, Mr. Ismay," Captain Smith said quietly. "But I don't see any reason in arriving a day early."

"I was just merely thinking of what was best," Ismay said humbly. "But I suppose I'll leave it to your officers to decide what's best. I'm only a passenger."

"That you are," said Captain Smith. "Until Harland & Wolff builds a bigger and better vessel, I am still the master of this ship."

"I understand very well. Maybe we'll make headlines just by pure luck."

And he went back to his tea.

When they were done, the two men got up from their seats and Ismay said.

"Come on, Captain, we will get somebody and go down to the squash courts."

And so they left. Mrs. Lines stayed in her seat, the words "We will beat the Olympic and get into New York on Tuesday," playing over and over again in her head like a cracked phonograph.

It was around 2:00 p.m. when Rose and Jack travelled to the aft well deck, watching the sky turn beige from the port side. They had spent nearly the last few hours talking about some of their interests as well as Jack's background. They even walked around the First and Second Class parts of the ship, with Rose simply telling the stewards on guard that they

"Have you expressed interest in other works of art? Or ever met other artists? I know Francis Millet is onboard. Maybe I can introduce you to him."

"I think I've heard of him," Jack thought about the name for a moment. "Didn't he do that one painting of a man and a woman in a little house?"

"I think so," Rose said.

"His work's fine, but like I said about Dadaism and Cubism. It just had no heart to it."

"I think you're biased because your drawings are lifelike."

"No!" Jack smiled, trying to defend himself. "I just have a certain taste in art."

"Cal thinks the paintings I bought from Paris were a waste of money. He is so uncultured!"

"Maybe I should teach him a lesson," Jack said. "Then he'll appreciate it."

Rose giggled and looked out at the horizon. The sun was about to set. For a moment, she seemed quiet, then Jack asked.

"So is he a good guy? I mean he must be, you're marrying him and all. I mean, what's he like? Aside from the fact that he was angry at me for putting your hands on you."

"You'll know more about him for yourself at dinner tonight. You are coming aren't you?"

"I assumed he didn't really mean the invitation."

"He probably didn't. But come anyway, please. I would die if I had to attend another dinner with them again."

"I think I will," Jack smiled back.

"Have you ever gone horseback riding?" asked Jack.

"Of course, I have, at a farm once," replied Rose. "But mostly on side-saddle. Father was going to teach me how to ride with one leg on each side, but Mother thinks it's improper to ride like that."

"Has she ever tried riding with both legs on each side?" Jack was looking for a joke to add to his perception of Rose's mother.

"Not in her life," Rose smiled sadistically. "She's very old fashioned."

Rose looked back out at the ocean.

"You mentioned the Santa Monica Pier earlier. Could I, or maybe, we go sometime?"

"Sure!" smiled Jack. "We'll drink beer, ride the roller-coaster until we throw up--"

"I don't throw up," answered Rose. "I have a cast iron stomach."

"--and even ride horses. I could even teach you to chew tobacco the way a man does it."

Rose thought of something even more disgusting than tobacco, having smelled some of it from Cal's cigars and her previous attempts of smoking.

"How about teaching me to spit like a man?" she added in a poor imitation of Colonel Gracie's Southern drawl. "I mean, why should only men be able to spit?"

"Sure I would," Jack replied back.

As Jack began to teach Rose the basics of spitting in a masculine way (with a few pitiful first attempts), a Second Class couple, John H. Chapman and his wife Sarah, were strolling around the aft end of B-Deck. John took the air into his lungs as his wife noticed a small group of First Class passengers on the promenade deck above him and the steerage passengers playing around at the bottom.

"Funny place to be, isn't it? That we're in the middle?" Sarah asked her husband.

"Maybe," John said. "But I think it's good to be on middle ground."

Then he noticed Rose. Her clean, yellow dress stood out amongst the modest clothing of the steerage passengers.

"That woman down there seems to be from First Class. Must be visiting a relative or a servant."

"Isn't that against the rules?" asked Sarah.

"Not for them, it isn't," her husband replied. "When you're that rich, you can practically go anywhere."

"Or she could be a modern," murmured Sarah.

They took the sight of Rose looking out over the railing with Jack before going back inside, knowing very well to mind their own business.

Meanwhile on the promenade deck above, six-year-old Robert Douglas Spedden was allowing little Loraine Allison to play with his toy Steiff bear Polar. They had already spent their time on the starboard side of the Verandah Café (which had been used as a playroom for children) and now they had gone outside to watch the sunset. The two children eventurally went into a tug of war. Loraine wanted to keep Polar for herself and when she did not follow Douglas' orders, she tossed the little bear over to the side, landing right behind Jack and Rose.

"Polar!" cried the little boy.

Below, Rose heard his cry. She noticed the toy bear lying there and picked it up.

"Excuse me, miss!" Douglas called from above. "Can you bring my bear back please?!"

"Just a minute!" Rose called.

Jack, having seen everything, looked concerned and before he felt a sudden jerk, Rose was dragging him by the hand. They rushed up to the stairs to the gate, climbed over it, took the Second Class stairs to the promenade and bolted out of the door, Rose telling stewards at each passage that Jack was with her. Arriving on the deck, Rose handed the little boy his toy bear.

"Thanks, miss," Douglas said sweetly.

He hugged Polar just as his nurse Margaret Burns (or "Muddie Boons" as he called her) came up, joined by Alice Cleaver.

"Douglas, dear, it's almost dinnertime. You don't want to keep your parents waiting."

And she led him away. Alice came to pick up Loraine and carried her away as well. Jack and Rose traveled to the starboard side of the promenade deck, hoping to test Rose's spitting skills from a higher altitude.

"Let's try it here," Jack said. "Now remember what I showed you."

He hawked his neck and threw a spit that arced out over the water.

"Now you try."

Rose hawked every bit of saliva into her mouth and spat. Two comets of gob flew out over the water.

"That was better," Jack said. "But next time, get more body fluid into your mouth."

The happy moment came burning down thanks to a voice that Rose knew all too well.

"Rose! Didn't I teach you better than that display I just saw? And look at you out in the sun with no hat. Honestly!"

"Sorry, Mother," Rose blushed. "But I want you to meet someone. This is Jack Dawson. He saved my life last night."

"How do you do ma'am?"

Jack offered his right hand, but Ruth could see the saliva dripping off of it and cringed, trying to perish the thought of catching the bacteria of a steerage passenger.

"Err, no thanks," she gave a fake smile and held her hands up defensively. "I just had my hands clean."

The other three ladies were more polite.

"Pleased to meet you, Jack. I'm Margaret Brown, but you can call me Maggie."

"Noel Leslie, Countess of Rothes," the Countess bowed. "It is an honor to meet such a brave savior."

"And my name is Gladys Cherry. How do you do?"

"Quite fine, thanks," Jack felt humble, yet pathetic in front of this august body of wealthy, clean-cut ladies.

"So where are you from?" asked Maggie

"A small farm in Wisconsin," Jack explained. "Not that you'd better interested."

I would be, thought Maggie. She had instantly developed a kinship with those young man who seemed out of place with a bunch of snobs.

"Would you like to come too, Maggie?" asked Rose.

But Ruth would have none of it.

"The table is filled," the older woman replied.

Rose shot her mother a glare.

"There is plenty of room."

Ruth tried to come up with a socially acceptable refusal, but nothing came in her head. This allowed rose to rub some salt into the wound.

"And at Cal's invitation, Mr. Dawson will be joining us. Isn't that right, Mr. Dawson?"

Jack had his back to play.

"Wouldn't miss it. I hear the food's pretty good up here."

"But how will that look to the distinguished people at the other tables?" asked Ruth in an appalled voice.

She looked to Rose.

"We should go, Rose. Remember, we were supposed to have tea with the Wideners at the Palm Court this afternoon, and we're going to be late."

The last thing Rose wanted to do was go to another endless tea with a bunch of society's finest prattling on about polo ponies, skiing in St. Moritz, who's wearing what, and the latest gossip and scandal. She decided to come clean.

"But mother, these tea dates are boring. Why not I stay here and take up the air?"

"Rose, I don't want our closest neighbors to feel snubbed. You have to come with me."

Maggie came to the rescue.

"If Rose is old enough to get married, she's sure old enough to decide whether she wants to have a cup of tea, don't you think? Time to start loosenin' up on the reins a bit there, Ruth."

Before Ruth could protest, Maggie took her by the right arm and escorted her down the deck. Noel and Gladys, having nothing else to do, followed after them.

"When I was younger'n Rose I was living in a gold-mining town in Colorado and nobody was tellin' me who to have tea with..."

Rose took Jack's arm and walked him quickly the other way. They looked at each other, trying to keep a straight face. Seeing the other one trying not to laugh caused them both to burst out laughing. Rose covered her mouth with one white-gloved hand.

"Did you see the look on her face?" asked Rose.

But Jack was feeling embarrassed, if not downtrodden.

"Rose, I can't come tonight. I'll just embarrass you. I don't have the right kind of clothes..."

"You don't need a white tie. Just wear your best suit and you'll be fine."

But when she looked into his face....

"No suit?"

Then she got an idea, a wonderfully cheeky idea.

"Why not I give you one of Cal's suits? I'm sure he won't notice. I'll even show you my bedroom if you like."

Everyone walked back to the Forward First Class Entrance.

When Jack saw the Grand Staircase for the first time, his breath was taken away by the splendor spread out before him. He could tell that so many people had worked extremely hard to bring this beauty of craftsmanship into reality. Rose saw the look in his face and spoke his feelings out loud.

”I know, beautiful, isn’t it? Then again, everything in my world is perfect.”

Rose was glad that she had B-56 all to herself, then she could have some privacy. She swept in with at least three of Cal's evening wear. It was fortunate he had a ton in his wardrobe, otherwise, this scenario would not be possible. Jack tried on jackets, eight shoes, and pants...looking uncomfortable at first but started to make a game out of it with her. They had fun with each other, laughing. Rose picked out everything, making him try on five things to pick one. Jack was just happy to be with her, so he went along with the whole process.

At the end of it, Jack emerges from the WC dressed in Cal's very dapper suit and tie, and one of his bowler hats. Rose took off the dour hat, replacing it with a snappy white skimmer. She gave him Cal's ivory handled walking stick and with it, he enjoyed playing Henry Higgins.

Jack looked at himself in the mirror in Rose's room and grinned, striking a casual stance. If this had been 1925, he could have remarked, "Jay Gatsby never looked better". Seeing how satisfied he was, Rose put the suits back into Cal's luggage and folded them properly. Jack was more than happy to help her. Then they left the room just as Trudy and Teresa came in to check on their mistresses. Seeing they weren't there, they decided to have the afternoon to themselves.

To give Jack a test run in his new suit, Rose decided to take him out for a stroll in the late afternoon light. The high collar was cutting into Jack's neck. He tugged at it with one finger.

"Damn," he cursed. "This is tight."

"Now you know how I feel," sympathized Rose.

Jack was now having second thoughts.

"Maybe it's better if I don't come."

"Jack, it's all a question of attitude. Just act like you're better than everybody else....like you're the master of the universe."

Jack saw this as an example of stereotyping.

"Surely not everyone thinks that way."

"All right, then be a gentleman. Take my hand and kiss it."

"Okay then, mademoiselle," said Jack in a French accent.

He took Rose's right hand and kissed it very smoothly. Some passersby watched them, clearly buying it.

"I saw that in a Nickleodeon once."

Jack walked on, pretending to be a German count, clicking his heels and doing a pretty good Prussian accent.

"I am ze master of der universe!" he said a bit childishly.

The duo spent some time playing games with the passengers and crew. During this time, Jack began to see more of her playful, inventive side emerge. The cloud lifted when she was with him. Her smile, which he saw for the first time, was radiant.

Some minutes later, they ran into Daniel and Mary Marvin, who was busy acting for the camera.

"Try to look more natural, dear," said Daniel to his awkwardly standing wife.

It was then that he saw Jack and Rose coming their way. Daniel stopped the camera and Rose gestured them to her guest.

"Mary, Daniel, I'd like you to meet my friend Jack Dawson."

"Good to meet you Jack," said Daniel as he shook Jack's right hand with his left. "Are you of the Boston Dawsons?"

"No, the Chippawa Falls and Oshkosh Dawsons, actually."

"Isn't my camera amazing?" Daniel boasted. "Someday, my father is going to let me direct a one-reeler. I'm just practicing up."

"Would you like to film Rose?" asked Jack.

"Sure," said Daniel. "You get in there too, Mr. Dawson."

It was a fun little series of vignettes that they filmed: Rose posing dramatically at the rail, a tragic parody of Jack's sketch, the back of her hand to her forehead. Jack on a deck chair, pretending to be a Pasha, the two girls pantomiming fanning him like slave girls. Jack, on his knees, pleading with his hands clasped while Rose, standing, turns her head in bored disdain. Then it was Rose's turn to crank the camera, filming Daniel and Jack have a western shootout. Jack won and leered into the lens, twirling an air mustache like Snidely Whiplash.

Afterwards, they moved to the Cafe Parisian, flushed from having so much fun. Daniel did most of the talking. Obviously, his subject was about the moving picture business.

"I hear there is a lot of talk amongst the New York studios about going out west to California 'for the light', but I don't think it will ever happen. Can you imagine, leaving the greatest city on earth, New York, for an ugly little cow town like Los Angeles? Less than a hundred thousand people there and nothing of any value ever came out of the place."

"I was there once... Los Angeles," answered Jack.  "Went down the coast after my first summer logging in Oregon. I even rode the roller coaster at the Santa Monica pier. Great place."

"I'd love to go to Los Angeles," added Rose.

"Rose, you're rich, you can go there any time you want. First Class. Cal can buy the railroad and you can have your own private car with--"

Before he could continue, she jumped at the sound of Percy William Fletcher, the bugler, playing "The Roast Beef of Old England" on his trumpet. Everyone in First Class knew what that meant.

"Let's go, Jack."

So off they went. Daniel and Mary went to dinner as well.

As they walked back to their respective cabins, Jack said to Rose:

"While we're out there you can be an actress in one of Daniel's moving pictures. You'll be the next Mary Pickford. I can feel it."

"And maybe go into politics, I hear women can vote now in California."

"Really?" Jack, not being the kind of guy to keep up with politics, was confused.

"Yes," smiled Rose. "Suffrage was passed there by Constitutional amendment. It's the only state so far."

"It's a strange place, alright," mused Jack. "The earth moves and women can vote."

Then he remembered something else.

"I should go back and tell my friends where I'll be."

"Me too, I need to get dressed. See you later, Jack."

Rose left for her cabin and treaded carefully down the Grand Staircase, which had just been mopped. Earlier that day, a coal fire that had been burning in Boiler Room 5's starboard coal bunker since the ship left Southampton had finally been extinguished. This was done by shifting the 300 tons of coal from two of the starboard bunkers into the port ones, which gave the ship a three degree tilt to the port side. This, along with the slippery linoleum floor, caused Irene "Rene" Harris, wife of theatrical producer Henry Harris, to slip and fall on one of the wet steps, breaking her right arm while making her way down to her cabin after hearing the bugle call. Rose had already arrived at her stateroom while this was happening and Mrs. Harris was having her arm wrapped in a cast by Dr. William O'Loughlin, the ship's surgeon.

As Mrs. Harris was getting her arm fixed, Jack was in need of a fixing too...of his suit. After surprising his friends and a few others that he was going to make a leap into the grand and upholstered world of First Class, their reactions were mixed. Fabrizio was less than interested, preferring to stay with Helga. Tommy was little jealous and perhaps even found it incredulous that Jack was spending a night with a bunch of people who had their noses high up in the air. Cora wished that she too could go up there as well, wondering if the food tasted good. Following this, he went to his cabin to make it look even better than it already was. Right now, he was fumbling with the shirt studs, trying to get them to hold his formal shirt closed... a difficult process even for the First Class gentlemen who knew how to do it. Tommy was trying to figure out how the bowtie was tied... experimenting on himself, while Fabrizio was helping Jack get the studs through the buttonholes and was making things worse. Ara and the Goodwin and Sage families, who were invited to the cabin, were getting into the act, and it was a complete circus in the cramped quarters. The children were pressing Jack's pants in the berth across the hall.

"I didn't want to admit in front of Rose that I didn't know how any of this stuff worked," Jack explained to them after several failed attempts.

When Augusta Goodwin heard about Jack's dismay, she turned to her oldest daughter and said.

"Lillian, get Wietzman, tell him that Jack needs his bowtie fixed."

Annie Sage's 14-year-old daughter Dorothy followed after her, thinking she needed some help. Lillian didn't mind and Wietzman's bunk wasn't too far. The man in question was an older guy who used to be a tailor in Vienna. He was going to America to increase his business. After some gestures, Dorothy and Lillian brought Weitzman back to Jack's cabin. The man spoke nothing but German and Yiddish, but he did know several words of English and in spite of his trilingual mouth, was able to coach Jack through tying the bow-tie and after three minutes, everything looked good.

"Wunderbar!" said the man as he gave Jack a thumbs up.

Also coming to Jack's aid was Massimo Trani, whom Fabrizio had befriended not long as after Jack left with Rose. The man handed Jack a razor. Initially confused by this, Jack looked into the mirror and saw a bit of peach fuzz around his mouth.

"Shit, I forgot to shave."

In order to do it properly, he decided to do it topless. So, much to Fabrizio's dismay, he undid the bowtie.

"Wietzman!!"

Back in First Class, Cal and Rose were dressing quietly in their adjoining rooms. They had dressed for formal dinners so often, that it had become a ritual without meaning. Cal, thankfully, didn't notice that one of his suits was gone, but when he went to see Rose in her room, he had noticed that her mood had changed. 

"You seem cheerful tonight," he remarked. "I knew that diamond would work."

But Rose knew better. What would she do? Tell Cal that she had spent most of the day with Jack and that she gave him one of his suits just so he could fit in with the rest of upper-class society? I don't think so, so she fibbed.

"Yes, it was," she forced a smile. "It just takes so long for me to get used to things."

"I would love to see the looks on everybody's faces if you wore it tonight, but since I have already decided that we should unveil it at the engagement gala next week, I can handle waiting a few more days."

Then he took a closer look as to what she was wearing.

"I wish would you would wear blue," he frowned.

"Why?"

"Something to set off the blue in the stone. But don't worry, I'll buy you a dress from Macy's when we arrive in New York."

He took a good look at Rose's nose. It was slightly tanned.

"And please, Rose, I must insist you stay out of the sun. I mean, look at your nose. Don't you want to look your best at the gala?"

Rose took a look at her nose in the mirror, but it wasn't too bad. Just a small tan. Nothing drastic like a sunburn. But all the same, she could not have cared any less.

"I suppose," she turned to face him. "But let's think about the present. Tonight is a special night for Mr. Dawson, so I expect you and Mother to be on your best behavior. You be nice to him and he'll be nice to you."

"Not to worry," said Cal without a hint of malice in his voice. "I think I will."

Whatever malice he had, was all blocked away into his head.

After entering First Class via the door to Scotland Road and up the staircase on E-Deck, Jack was waiting for Rose and her party by the stairs of the Reception Room. By Edwardian standards, he looked badass, dashing in his borrowed white-tie outfit, right down to his pearl studs. Chief Steward Andy Latimer came down the steps, on his way to oversee the passengers coming in.

"Good evening, sir," he said to Jack.

Playing the role smoothly, Jack nodded with just the right degree of disdain.

One by one, the passengers came gracefully down the steps: women in their floor length dresses, elaborate hairstyles and abundant jewelry...gentlemen in evening dress, standing with one hand at the small of the back, talking quietly.

First came Lucien P. Smith of Morgantown, West Virginia and his wife Eloise, who barely even noticed Jack. Next were Emil and Tillie Taussig, along with their daughter. Coming down the stairs was Don. Manuel Ramirez Uruchurtu, a Mexican lawyer. He nodded a perfunctory greeting to Jack and he nodded back, keeping it simple. He felt like a spy.

Finally, there came a trio he recognized...

Cal was coming down the stairs, with Ruth on his arm, dressed in an ugly green peacock of an evening gown.

"Did I ever tell you there are almost a thousand tons of my steel aboard this ship?"

"No! What a surprise!"

They walked straight past Jack, barely even noticing him. But Jack decided to give a simple "Hello again" to the man who invited him. Cal and Ruth turned around.

"Hello, mister. Mrs. DeWitt Bukater. Surely you remember me. I'm Jack Dawson, you gave me an invitation last night."

Through his combed back hair and his suit, Cal studied his face. His face beamed upon recognizing the "pauper". He was so neat and polish that he didn't notice that he was wearing one of his suits.

"Dawson! I didn't recognize you."

"Me neither," added Ruth, trying to sound civil.

"It's amazing! You could almost pass for a gentleman," smiled Cal.

"Almost," said Jack. But probably not as much as arrogant as you.

He turned back to the stairs...and there she was: Rose, a vision in red and black, her arms sheathed in white gloves that came well above the elbow. Jack was hypnotized by her beauty. As she approached Jack. He imitated the gentlemen's stance, hand behind his back. She extended her gloved hand and he took it, kissing the back of her fingers. Rose flushed, beaming noticeably. She couldn't take her eyes off him.

"Second time's the charm," he smiled.

Cal saw Rose's happy reaction to Jack and scowled, noting it. It did not escape Ruth's predatory eye either.

Just then, Maggie came in, looking good in a black beaded dress, in her own busty broad-shouldered way. Her head was crowned with black feathers, giving the impression of a saloon dancer entering high society. She grinned upon seeing Jack. As the rest of the First Class passengers made their grand entrance, she spoke low:

"Ain't nothing to it, is there, Jack?"

"Yeah," he said. "All you have to do is act like a pallbearer and keep your nose up."

"Now you can see what my life is like," said Rose.

"Just remember," said Maggie as she noticed Emma coming down the stairs. "They love money, so pretend you own a gold mine and you're in the club."

Emma took a brief notice of Jack before she and Maggie left for the dining room. Major Archibald Butt came down along with Clarence Moore, an American businessman. Jack offered his hand.

"Hello, my name is Jack Dawson," he said, trying to sound polite. "My family owns a logging firm from Chippewa Falls."

"Pleasure to meet you," Major Butt said, shaking his left hand with his right. "I am Major Archibald Butt, President Taft's military advisor."

Before Mr. Moore could have a chance to introduce himself, Jack gave a tiff, if not comical salute. Major Butt was surprised by this and strode his way into the dining room.

Next came Richard Norris Williams, a well-known tennis player flanked by his father Charles. This time, Jack kept a straight face and greeted the men politely.

"Jack Dawson, nice to meet you. I run a plantation in Wisconsin."

"Hälsningar," said Williams, shaking his hand. "Mitt namn är Richard Norris Willaims."

Jack was stunned.

"You speak Swedish?"

"I was born in Geneva," said Williams. "But I was raised in America."

"And I'm his father Charles. How do you do?"

"Fine, Mr. Williams. I should introduce you to some of my friends someday. Two of them are Swedish."

Norris and his father gave a nod to Rose and continued on. Then Rose noticed the Thayers and the Wideners.

"Those are the Thayers and the Wideners, family friends," Rose said lowly.

The Thayers came up first, stopping before Rose.

"Good to see you, Rose," said John.

"You too, Mr. Thayer, Marian, Jack, I'd like you to meet Jack Dawson."

"Pleasure to meet you," bowed Marian.

"Nice to meet another Jack," said John Jr., shaking Jack's hand.

The Thayers continued into the dining room and the Wideners came up to Rose and Jack.

"Hello, Rose," greeted Harry. "And who is this?"

"This is Jack Dawson, he saved me from going overboard last night."

"Really?" asked a confused George. "Last night seemed pretty calm, thank god."

"Do you like books, Mr. Dawson?" asked Eleanor. "My son is an avid collector of rare books. He just graduated from Harvard."

"Congratulations!" Jack beamed, wishing he had the chance to attend such a college.

"Thank you,” nodded Harry.

And off the trio went into the dining room.

After a few small greetings with Eleanor Cassebeer, Frederick Hoyt, Henry Sleeper Harper and his wife Myra, Hugh Woolner, Jean Hippach and her mother, Milton Long, and Bess and Hudson Allison who were taking Loraine to see the dining saloon, Jack and Rose noticed some of the other notables making their way down the stairs, Captain Smith among them.

"There's the Countess of Rothes," she pointed to the woman in the pearl white dress.

The Countess seemed to recognize Jack by the way she nodded at him. Her cousin followed after her with Dr. Washington Dodge and his family proceeding.

Jack recognized another couple.

"Have I seen those two before?"

Rose waved at them.

"JJ, Madeleine, I'd like you to meet Jack Dawson. Jack, this is Colonel John Jacob Astor IV, the richest man on this ship. His wife Madeleine is around my age and in a delicate condition."

Mrs. Astor almost felt like panicking.

"Rose, please," she hushed. "Not in front of everyone."

"Sorry," Rose whispered.

Jack shook their hands.

"Pleased to meet you," he said to them both.

"The pleasure is all mine," said Astor.

Astor then proceeded to escort his wife into the dining room.

Following a quick hello from Karl Behr, another tennis player, and Helen Newsom with her stepparents, Rose noticed a fashionably elegant couple coming her way and waved her right hand to signal them.

"Jack, this is Sir Cosmo and Lucille Lady Duff-Gordon. She designs naughty lingerie, among her many talents. Very popular with the royals."

"Well, I wouldn't say naughty," said Lady Duff-Gordon under a modest tone. "My work is avant-garde. I'm sure Mrs. Rosenbaum would agree with me. She is a correspondent for Women's Wear Daily."

"I'm sure she would," Jack smiled, after trying to think of a good answer.

Sir Cosmo and his wife departed for the dining room just as Douglas Spedden came up with his parents Frederick and Daisy Spedden of Bar Harbor, Maine. He was carrying Polar in his arms.

"Thanks for bringing Polar back, miss."

"Anytime," smiled Rose.

"Hope you eat a good meal, little man," added Jack.

"Don't worry," said Frederick. "He will."

Next came Ida and Isidor Straus who greeted "Shalom" to Jack and Rose, followed by another couple whom Rose knew through Cal.

"That's Benjamin Guggenheim and his mistress Madame Aubart."

"Is there a Mrs. Guggenheim?"

"She's at home with the children."

Mr. Guggenheim and Madame Aubart walked past the two. Then Mrs. Candee came in, greeting Rose with a slightly grim frown.

"Since when did you start picking up another man to rely on?" she admonished.

"I didn't, Helen. He saved my life last night. Jack, this is Helen Candee, she's a suffragette."

Jack gave a polite bow.

"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Candee."

"Charmed, I am sure," Mrs. Candee stated. "But generally speaking, I don't like men who frown upon women's rights."

"I'm all for women's rights," Jack gave a boyish smile.

With an indifferent glance, but somewhat impressed by his comment, Mrs. Candee crossed into the dining room. 

Last, but not least, came Dorothy, along with her mother Pauline and two connoisseurs of art, the painter Francis Davis Millet and another Swedish businessman Mauritz Håkan Björnström-Steffansson.

"Hello again, Rose. Sorry to keep you waiting, I was helping my mother get into her dress."

Then she looked at Jack.

"Mr. Dawson, I presume?"

"Yeah, I got my suit from Mrs. Brown."

"The miner's wife?" asked Pauline.

"Same woman," finished Jack.

Not wanting Mrs. Gibson to think he was destitute, Jack thought up a quick lie.

"My other suit got a rip in it last night and I asked her to borrow one for me."

"What a pity," Pauline said, taking her daughter into the dining room.

"You must be Caledon Hockley's fiancée," came the voice of Mr. Millet. "I am the artist Millet and this is Mr. Steffansson. We will be joining you at your table."

At last, Jack and Rose, arm in arm, entered through the double doors of the dining saloon. Ismay and Andrews entered on the opposite side, holding the doors open for Irene Harris, her arm-cast complete, and Henry Harris, to enter.

The First Class Dining Saloon was like a ballroom at a palace, alive and lit by a constellation of overhead lights. It was created in a Jacobean style with seats for 115 people. Everyone was elegantly dressed in the latest styles, sprayed with exotic perfumes and decked out in the finest jewelry. Rose, Jack, Dorothy, Pauline, Mr. Millet and Mr. Björnström-Steffansson walked across the room to their respective tables. Cal and Ruth sat at the "Captain's Table" with Sir Cosmo, Lucille, Maggie, Mr. Andrews, Madame Aubert, Mr. Guggenheim and Colonel Gracie, Dorothy and Pauline broke off to the Countess' table, while the two men took their seats at Rose and her party's table. Gracie seemed to notice Jack as he pulled out a chair for Rose and sat down on her left, she herself sandwiched with Cal on her right. As he sat there, Jack felt nervous, but he never faltered. Because of the way he fibbed to everyone as to kind of work he did, or what kind of business he owned, rumors were spreading amongst the diners that he was the heir to a railroad fortune, a young captain of industry perhaps...new money, obviously, but still a member of the club. Nevertheless, they assumed he was one of them.

"Good to see ya again, Dawson," called Gracie. "I'm sure you don't remember me from last night, but I am Colonel Archibald Gracie IV from Alabama. Have you ever been to Mobile? My father fought for the Confederate Army there."

"Not really," Jack said. "But I think some of my neighbors served in the Civil War."

Ruth, already impatient with Rose being late to join them and Jack being in a place where he shouldn't belong, decided to break the ice (if you'll pardon the expression). Before Gracie could ask him on whose side they fought for, Ruth deliberately asked...

"Mr. Dawson, why not tell us about the accommodations in steerage? I hear they are quite good on this ship. Wouldn't you think so, Mr. Andrews?"

Everyone else stared. Mr. Andrews swallowed a lump of his soda bread and Rose dropped her jaw in shock.

"Mother!" she hissed annoyingly.

Jack tensed at the word "steerage", feeling like he had been caught red-handed for stealing a priceless piece of jewelry. Instead, additionally thinking to himself that Ruth had asked a curious question, smiled proudly, saying.

"They're best I've seen, ma'am. Hardly any rats."

Everyone laughed.

"You must be joking!" chortled Mr. Guggenheim. "A steerage passenger? Up here?"

"No, he's right, Ben," it was Cal's turn to tell the truth. "Mr. Dawson is from Third Class. He was of some assistance to my fiancée last night."

Rose leaned out over the table in an un-ladylike way.

"I was just leaning over the rail and I slipped. As repayment, I spent some time with Mr. Dawson. He's also quite a fine artist. He was kind enough to show me some of his work today."

"May I see them?" asked Mr. Millet curiously.

"Maybe, but your work is obviously better,” Jack said humbly.

He didn't think it polite to boast about how his work could be any better than that of a famous artist like Millet. Instead, Cal answered back.

"Rose and I differ in our opinion of art," he turned to Jack. "Not to make any rude remarks about your work, of course."

"It's fine, Cal," Jack smiled.

Then Cal thought of a good idea to demonstrate his largesse to his tablemates.

"Perhaps as a further reward, you could draw Rose's portrait for me."

Jack knew that it was like getting a trained dog to a trick for them, but all the same, he felt like nothing could touch him, not even Ruth's further question, which was a bit more innocent than the rest.

"What type of art do you draw?"

"Mostly life, girls playing in water, boys playing ball, older ladies at bars, scenic ones. I actually studied that in France."

"Drawn any notable landmarks in Paris?" asked Madame Aubart.

"Some like the Eiffel Tower," said Jack. "But what if I told you that I also draw nudes because lots of girls in Paris like to take their clothes off?"

Ruth's eyes widened, Cal nearly spat his water out, Maggie snickered, Rose gave an odd stare and everyone looked him like he broke a valuable vase. Jack blushed.

"I said the wrong thing, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did," glowered Cal.

Only he could imagine doing certain things with Rose in the nude, like giving himself a son. With Jack having revealed his subjects too precisely, he was beginning to have second thoughts on getting Rose's portrait done.

The odd moment was interrupted by a waiter who came with some appetizers.

"Would you like some caviar, sir?"

Jack, having had mixed feelings about caviar after tasting it many times in Paris, and remembering Rose's dislike for the fish eggs, shook his head no.

"No caviar for me, thanks. I never cared for it that much."

And he winked at Rose, never catching a chance to witness Ruth's next question.

"And where exactly do you live, Mr. Dawson?"

"Well, I grew up in Chippewa Falls, Wisconsin, but right now, my current address is the RMS Titanic and after that I'm on God's good humor."

Cal chuckled.

"Chippewa Falls? I've never heard of such a place. Must be a cowtown."

"To you, maybe," Rose added in a severe, but sweet tone. "But to him, it's his home."

"If it is such a place," Ruth added, trying to score a point. "How is it that he has the means to travel?"

Jack answered in Rose's favor.

"Unlike some people, I actually had to work from place to place like tramp steamers and such, but I won my ticket for Titanic on a very lucky hand at poker."

Hearing such a statement caused Andrews' eyebrows to rise. As much as he wanted to admonish this fellow for breaking the immigration laws and send him back to steerage post haste, he was too amused by Jack's experience of the working world. He almost reminded him of his employees back home at Harland & Wolff.

"All life is a game of luck," muttered Colonel Gracie out of the blue. "Not that luck ever did my father any good to winning the war though."

Cal gave the colonel a sympathetic glance.

"A real man makes his own luck. Right, Dawson?"

Jack seemed to agree with him.

"I know I made my luck when I won a silver medal at the Athens games," said Sir Cosmo. "I should take you to the squash court for a fencing match."

"I would be honored," said Jack. "If I had the time."

"Sadly," said Ruth, taking a bite from a caviar filled cracker. "I think the immigration laws have a strong authority over people with rootless existences."

Maggie, having spent her childhood in a lower class community of Hannibal, Missouri, scowled at Ruth. Rose loured as well.

"Mother, be nice," she spoke through gritted teeth.

"It's fine, Rose. I can take it," Jack replied, half-disappointment in his voice.

He took a whole piece of bread, bit it, swallowed it and set it down before he took a drink of water and spoke again.

"Well...you do have a point, Mrs. DeWitt Bukater, but compared to all the riches in the world, I have everything that most of you overlook. The air in my lungs, a few blank sheets of paper...it's a big world, and I want to see it all before I go. It seemed like only yesterday I was sleeping under a bridge and now here I am on the grandest ship in the world having dinner with you fine people. My father and mother were always talkin' about goin' to see the ocean. She died in a boating accident and he died in a fire when I was fifteen, and I've been on the road since, they never did see it, but I know I will. Because of that incident, I began to figure that life was a gift and I don't intend on wasting it. You can't wait around, because you never know what hand you're going to get dealt next. Somethin' like that teaches you to take life as it comes at you. Only life is priceless and making each day count."

"Well said, Jack," smiled Maggie.

Everyone was so impressed by Jack's worldly speech of life's philosophy, that they raised their glasses in a toast.

"To making it count," Rose said.

"To making it count," added Cal begrudgingly.

"To making it count," everyone announced.

Those seated, including Ruth, took small sips of their glasses and set them down. Jack smiled at this treatment. As of tonight, he really was the King of the World.

In the Third Class Dining Room, where things were a bit less fancier than the deck above them. Fabrizio was scarfing away at his roast beef while Tommy had sweet corn and the Gundersen brothers had boiled potatoes. Ara ate in silence with his fellow Armenians, while Massimo and Weitzman ate across each other, not in the mood for conversation. Cora and her parents were planning on having plum pudding for dessert while Helga and her own family had fruit. Helga took small, lady-like bites, encouraging Fabrizio to do the same. It seemed like the two would never take their eyes off one another as both sides of the table noticed.

"First you fall for this fine girl, then Jack goes for a red-headed Molly Malone," Tommy was saying to Fabrizio. "Whatever next?"

"Så länge det gäller någon som inte är utanför våra gränser, går jag bra med det," said Bjorn.

"What did he say?" Fabrizio asked Helga.

"He say he is fine with someone...in love, from someone here."

Mr. and Mrs. Dahl's eyes widened. Fabrizio smiled. Her English seemed to be improving.

"I wonder if Uncle Jack will join us tonight," Cora said. "I hope I get to dance with him."

Cora had grown so fond of Jack early that morning, that she was willing to call him "uncle".

"I think so," said Tommy, finishing off his plate. "Speaking of which, we'd better get ready."

Olaus took a swig of his beer, finished off his plate and immediately went back to the cabin. Fabrizio resumed eating, his eyes locked on Helga for the remainder of his meal.

Back in First Class, dinner was served. Jack tried foie gras, Rose ordered creme conde at Cal's expense, Cal selected halibut and Ruth ended up with val au vent. The rest ordered their own and ate. At first, Jack was so confused by the triple number of utensils, that he wasn't sure which fork to use, for he was only used to simpler settings. He whispered to Maggie.

"Is this all for me?"

"I had the same reaction once," replied Maggie. "Just start from the bottom and work your way in."

"Tell me, Dawson," Cal said, his turn to grill Jack for opinions that may or may not be degrading. "What do you make of Zapata?"

"That Mexican leader? I could easily sympathize with him, seeing as he fights for the poor."

"I think he is a wicked man," Ruth replied, disdainful as ever. "Even his people say so."

"I wholeheartedly disagree, Mother," Rose said, defending Jack. "I think he could pass for a real life Robin Hood."

"You should know," began Cal. "That Robin Hood was also a criminal."

"Why?" asked Maggie incredulously. "All because he stole from the rich and gave it to the poor?"

"Exactly," smiled Cal. "Even though Zapata fights for the poor instead of stealing from the wealthy, he should be apprehended by the proper authorities."

Rose gave her own insight into politics:

"Have you heard of this man Ernst Rutherford? He's published a theory, which has apparently been accepted, that everything is made up of infinitesimally small bits he calls atoms. You, me, this mousseline, the sun... we're all made of the same thing... these atoms. Isn't that amazing?"

"I suppose so," said Colonel Gracie.

Cal could not have cared any less, but judging by his smile, Jack did.

looked to see Mr. Andrews scribbling in his notebook.

"What are you writing in there?" she asked.

"I often spend most of my spare time keeping the ship in a perfect condition," Mr. Andrews simply explained. "Like increasing the number of screws in hat hooks from 2 to 3 in the afternoon."

"You build the biggest ship in the world and this preoccupies you?"

"Better than travelling in an imperfect vessel, no matter how small they are."

"Well, no matter how imperfect it may look, your ship is a wonder, Mr. Andrews, truly."

Mr. Andrews smiled.

"Thank you, Rose."

"Your ship?" asked Jack. "I always thought a company or a captain owned his ship."

"That's only partially true, Jack," said Mr. Andrews. "E.J. Smith may be the captain and Mr. Ismay may have ownership of her on pen and paper, but in the eyes of God, she belongs to me."

A few minutes later, dessert was served. Rose shared friandises with Jack, Cal ordered pineapple royale and Ruth got caramel pudding. Maggie shared some jokes, if not tall tales about her life back home in Leadville.

"But Mr. Brown had no idea I had hidden the money in the stove! So he comes home drunk as a pig celebrating and he lights a fire!"

Everyone on her left side of the table laughed. When Rose noticed that dinner was finally finished, she whispered to Jack.

”Next, the men will take brandies in the smoking room.”

As Rose predicted, as far as how her life was becoming predictable, Gracie asked.

”Would anyone like to join me in a brandy, gentlemen?”

As everyone else agreed, Rose whispered another obvious prediction.

”Now they retreat into a cloud of smoke to congratulate each other on being masters of the universe.”

Gracie walked up to Jack’s seat with an offer that he could easily refuse.

”Would you like join us, Dawson, or would you rather stay here with these lovely ladies?”

As much as Jack wanted to stay, especially with Rose, he knew that a part of him preferred his own class above riches and hierarchy.

"Love to, but I'd better be heading back."

"What a shame," said Millet. "I was looking forward to seeing your work."

"Maybe tomorrow," Jack replied.

But he didn't know what tomorrow would bring, let alone Cal's opinion of what Jack would think of the smoking room.

"I think he's right, Francis," Cal said. "Business and politics are of little concern to him, are they, Dawson?"

Jack nodded sheepishly.

"Although..." Cal added. "It would be good of you to come if you change your mind."

Jack could see that Cal was not the type of person he wanted to befriend, especially since his behavior and personality was almost on par with that of Ruth, albeit with twice as much pride and twice as much arrogance. As soon as Cal left, he noticed Rose still in her seat, with her mother chatting away at Lady Duff-Gordon and the Countess. Maggie watched them both.

"Do you really have to go, Jack?"

"Sorry, Rose," Jack said. "But it's time for me to go rowing with the other slaves. Besides," he looked over to Maggie. "My coach is about to turn into a pumpkin."

"Keep it," Maggie smiled. "I can always buy my son a new tux anyway. You've earned it."

"Thanks, Maggie," Jack replied.

He leaned in to kiss Rose's hand, and turned away to exit the dining room. But not before he mouthed the words "Meet me at the stairs". As soon as he was gone, Rose looked back at her mother, who had been watching them like an eagle.

"You know, Mother, for what it's worth, I think you owe Jack an apology. He did save my life after all."

"Well, what can you expect from a steerage man?" Ruth asked in a snobby tone.

"A whole lot," Maggie butted in. "In case you hadn't been listening, there are some people in this world who believe that money cannot buy one's happiness."

"Not necessarily true," countered the Countess. "Mr. Dawson might have had a point about life that none of us have ever seen before, but money is important for many things even if it cannot bring you happiness."

"I for one can't think of anything else to do if my fashion house went out of business," worried Lady Duff-Gordon out of the blue.

Rose had just about enough of listening to monetary concerns from both her mother and the other ladies, especially since her next excuse to leave felt almost genuine.

"Mother, I think I have headache coming on," she muttered.

"Oh dear, you'd better lie down right away," said Maggie.

Rose got up and left the table, her head resting upon her hands on the way out.

When she arrived at the bulkhead between the dining room and the reception room with its large windows, she regained her normal composure and found Jack standing there on the very last step of the stairs. Rose approached him and he gave a genuine smile.

"You know, that dinner was too stuffy for me. How would you like to go to a real party?"

"Would I?" Rose was flattered. "I certainly would. But believe me, if my mother caught me dancing with you, I think her hair would turn grey a lot faster than a chameleon changing colors."

Jack laughed at her little joke and they took the Grand Staircase down to E-Deck where a large celebration of immigration was already commencing.

The Third Class Open Space was crowded and alive with music, laughter and raucousness. The smell of beer, clouds of secondhand smoke and all other odors hung in the air. Men and women, boys and girls were dancing to the tunes of Irish jigs like Blarney's Pilgrim. 

With no band provided for any of the Third Class passengers, they played their own instruments to accompany their dancing. They consisted of Eugene Daly with his bagpipes, a woman with a fiddle, a man with a bodhran, a man with clackers, the Musical Murrays on banjo and accordion and a man with a violin, even the piano helped. Rose was quickly introduced to all of Jack's friends, greeting them all with a handshake, as well as their foreign tongues.

"Glad to meet you again, Senora Rose. I am Fabrizio and this little lady here is Helga."

Helga seemed amazed by how sparkly her dress was.

"Nice to meet a First Class girl for a change, I'm Tommy Ryan."

Rose smiled at this response.

"I am Ara," greeted the Armenian teen. "My family, they die from Turks."

"Sorry about your family, Ara," sympathized Rose.

"Olaus Gundersen, det här är min bror Björn."

Rose was confused by his words.

"What did he say?" she asked Jack.

"They're my bunkmates," Jack replied over the loud din.

"How was First Class?" asked Tommy.

"Kinda boring," Jack said. "But some of the people up there were nice."

Just then Cora walked up with a male friend of hers, Willie Coutts, the son of a silver engraver from Scotland.

"Come and dance with me, Uncle Jack!"

Jack, almost blushing, leaned down and directed the little girl to Rose.

"This is Cora."

Rose waved hello before Willie spoke up.

"I'm Willie. Can I dance with you?"

"Sure," replied Rose.

She considered it a good way to get even with Jack.

They joined the kids with the other adults on the dance floor. Cora found it hard to dance with her little feet, but Willie seemed better at it with Rose.

"Tror du att hon talar svenska?" Olaus whisper-yelled to Bjorn.

"Varför frågar vi henne inte?" Bjorn noticed how close Rose was to them.

With Cora standing on his feet, it was a wonder to Jack that she didn't hurt his own feet. But Rose had it a little slow with Willie. After some three minutes, the song ended and the band switched to John Ryan's Polka. Jack leaned down to Cora.

"I'm going to dance with her now, all right? Go dance with Willie."

Cora walked over to Willie, who had just about finished his turn with Rose.

"Are you going to dance with him?"

"No offense, but you are a little short for me."

Willie tried to keep himself from pouting before Cora took his hands, trying to imitate the way Jack was holding Rose.

"I can't really do this," protested Rose. "The only dancing I ever been taught was the waltz."

"Then maybe I can teach you this," Jack smiled. "All we have to do is work a little closer."

Before setting off to the Number 1 hatch that served as a substitutionary dance floor, Jack looked back at his previous dance partner, shouting.

"You are still my best girl, Cora!"

Cora, dancing with Willie, smiled at this.

Rose and Jack faced each other. She was trembling as he took her right hand in his left. His other hand slid to the small area of her back. It was an electrifying moment. The band's music started to intensify, Even Fabrizio joined in by taking Helga onto the "dance floor". 

"Just go with me on the steps," Jack instructed Rose.

Rose took in a deep breath and they were off, a little awkward at first, but she soon got the hang of it. She grinned at Jack as she started to get the rhythm of the steps.

I'm doing it! she cried in her head. I'm actually doing it!

Excited and full of energy, she felt like dancing her feet off. But her heeled shoes were not built for dancing and she could feel the pain coming into her ankles.

"Wait!"

She bended down and removed her shoes, handing them to Helga as she passed with Fabrizio spinning wildly. The two had surmounted the language problem enough to be dancing. He whirled her, then she responded by whirling him, surprising him with her strength. Jack saw this as well and grabbed Rose's hands. Together they spun, faster, and faster, and faster, screaming playfully. Rose had never really gone this fast before, but she was starting to enjoy it. The whole moment of it all was starting to become the happiest moment of her life.

The less could be said for Cal and his friends in the smoking room. Everything was quiet and serene, but civil. Cal was going on about his usual subjects. He liked to talk about the current topics of the day in the smoking room: the coal strike, Rose, the Privy Council, the US Congress, the Royal Family, his father and his disdain for people who went on strike. All around him, the room was full of blue smoke as the captains of industry and finance talked quietly, or played cards. Cal was comfortable in this fortress of the white Anglo Saxon male elite. White gloved waiters circulated, bringing gin tonics and brandies.

"Those men are beyond the scope of the Sherman Act," he said to Guggenheim and Astor, "at least that’s what my lawyers will argue."

"Isn't that what Rockefeller said?" asked Guggenheim. "The Supreme Court is not swallowing it in anyway at all."

Nearby, Lovejoy, who always kept a firm watch on Cal after their own mealtimes, noticed his employer looking up at him.

"Would you mind looking for Rose? I wish to spend the night in bed with her."

"I shall look for her immediately," Lovejoy replied. "Where may I start looking?"

"Maybe steerage with Dawson?" Colonel Gracie asked out of thin air.

"I think you might be right," Lovejoy smiled, and left.

Cal, watching his valet leave the smoking room, could only fume at the possibility what sort of "damage" Jack would do to his precious jewel.

Back in the open space, Jack and Rose, flushed, sweaty and tired from those rapid dance moves, walked back to Tommy's table where he offered the duo large pints of stout. Rose had become a hit with the steerage passengers, having never seen a Saloon lady who could dance as good as them on ballerina feet with the way she did a can-can kick after she and Jack had stopped spinning.

Anyway, Rose was chugging on her drink as Jack watched, thunderstruck.

"What?" she asked like he never saw a drunk female before. "You think a First Class girl can't drink?"

Feeling the effects, Rose laughed it off. A man smashed out of his gourd, a Mr. Jeremiah Burke of County Cork, Ireland, came her way and bumped into her, causing her to almost lose her balance and spill whatever was left of her drink onto the top of her dress. Mr. Burke fell to the floor hard, but while Jack was concerned for Rose, she just laughed and reassured.

"Not to worry, I'm fine."

Fabrizio and Helga joined the table as well, Fabrizio trying to show Helga how to smoke by lighting a cigarette and putting it into his mouth. Rose grabbed Fabrizio's cigarette and took a big drag. She was feeling cocky. Fabrizio, despite the theft, was grinning, holding hands with Helga.

"You like her don't you?"

"Si, I may not understand her, but she and I are getting along quite well."

Rose smiled at them, then she noticed Tommy in a wrestling match with Bjorn. They gripped their hands together, it looked like none of them was going to force the opposing arm down (whoever would win that is) until after a split-second, Bjorn forced Tommy's arm down. The Irish lad was enraged.

"Two outta three! Two outta three!"

Bjorn seemed ready for another match as well, his fists came up... and Jack leaped into the middle of it, pushing them apart.

"Boys, boys! Did I ever tell you the one about the Swede and the Irishman goin' to the whorehouse?"

It was such a degrading insult as far as Tommy's ears heard it. He just stood there as mad as a bull, all piss and vinegar with his chest puffed up. Then, in a rather surprising move, he grinned and clapped Bjorn on the left shoulder. And that was when Rose butted in, still holding Fabrizio's cigar.

"So you think you're big tough men? Let's see you do this. Jack hold my skirt."

Jack wasn't sure what she was planning to do, but obeyed anyway. In her stocking feet, she assumed a ballet stance, arms raised, and went up on point. Slowly but surely, she began to rise, perhaps even levitating the same way a magician's assistant would do it, taking her entire weight on the tips of her toes. The men gaped at her incredible display of muscle control. Then her face screwed up in pain. She stood there, standing on the tips of her toes for three seconds, then...

"OW!"

She laughed, finding herself in Jack's arms as Margaret Rice and her five sons exchanged religious whispers of “Jesus, Mary and Joseph!”

"Are you all right?" he asked her.

"I'm fine" she chortled. "Jack, when we get off this ship, let's just run away and be jolly Irish people!"

Jack couldn't agree more. As Rose recovered, she noticed Dorothy walking in.

"Hello again, Mr. Dawson," she greeted. "I suppose you found my world to be as stuffy as well."

"Pretty much," Jack said. "Yours and Rose's world ain't nothing but a bunch of stiffs."

Then another tune, Drowsy Maggie, was the next song to be played. Everyone joined in a long line of dancers, sort of like a conga, but more like a chain. First, Fabrizio led Helga, who took Rose's hand, then Jack's, then Tommy's, Cora and Willie were next and finally, almost everybody had joined in. For the first time since her father died, Rose was truly happy.

But she reckoned without Lovejoy, who saw them from a staircase.

When the dour valet returned to the Smoking Room, Cal was sitting in front of the fireplace, which was the only place on the ship to vent steam into the false fourth funnel. Immediately, he told Cal:

"I found her in steerage, with them...and that Dawson man."

Cal tried to his best to restrain himself from shattering the glass of brandy that he held in his right hand. What does she see in him? he thought. What does he have that I don't? She hardly even knows him! It's nonsensical!

But he was very certain that the following morning, he would get through to Rose no matter what it took, perhaps it would teach her that social classes never mixed.

Speaking of Rose, she and Jack were taking a stroll along the Boat Deck, in need of some fresh air from all that smoke. They had gone there via the Grand Staircase from Scotland Road. Dorothy left a few minutes before them, fearing what her own mother would say if she found her partying in a class that was not of her own. After bidding Jack's friends goodbye and thanking them, one half of her wanted to stay while the other had relied on practicality. But why go back soon? The night was still young! With no one else on deck, they sang the last tune the band was playing before they left.

"Come Josephine in my Flying Machine and it's up she goes! Up she goes!"

Three verses later and one loop around the Boat Deck and they were standing in front of the First Class Entrance. Through the doors, the sound of the ship's orchestra wafted gently. They were playing the barcarole from the "Tales of Hoffman" by Offenbach, evoking languid romantic Venetian nights.

"Jack, why don't we stay out for a while?"

Jack, understanding that Rose wasn't ready to return yet, mentally agreed. They walked out towards the balcony on the very edge, admiring the black night sky and all the stars that decorated it. The stars blazed overhead, and the night air is bracing after the smoky haze of the party.

Then Jack asked.

"So Rose, do you really love Cal?"

Rose looked down into the water, the memories of her suicide attempt flashing by.

"I did when I agreed to marry him, or thought I did. It was what love seemed like it should be, from all the novels I'd read. But now I realize that I am willing to do anything that can release me from my mother, even if it means giving herself up to the grasp of another."

"You sound so romantic," Jack smiled into her eyes.

They continued looking out into the night sky.

"Isn't it magnificent? So grand and vast and endless," Rose had a dreamy look in her eyes. "My people haven't even realized the full extent of what the universe has to offer, Jack. They think they're giants on this planet, but they're not even dust in God's eye. They live inside this little tiny champagne bubble...and someday the bubble is going to burst."

"After what I saw with Cal and your mom, and what you told me earlier, I think you may be right."

"Do you know this writer, H.G. Wells?" asked Rose. "His stories are about the moon, and the planets, and actually traveling to them, and meeting other races there... or going into the distant future to watch the sun die."

"No, but I bet he sounds a lot like you."

"Maybe. Because, I look around and see people who think they have conquered the world, when all they have done is shut it out, ignoring its vastness, and over-cultivated what's left inside their walls like an English rose garden. Our dreams of glory, meaning, permanence... are nothing, our whole world is a silly champagne bubble in the big black night. And the life we do have, we waste. In this society, people are stoic and proper. They don't talk about their feelings. They just look at each other and assume."

She looked into Jack's eyes.

"With you, my feelings are open. I can say anything to you."

"Well, what would you like to say?"

"Well, there was a time, right after I met Cal, when I was talking to him once at the stable and right in mid-sentence a fly flew into my mouth. I didn't know what to do: spit it out, cry for help, faint. No well brought up girl could spit in front of a man... and I was so embarrassed... so I swallowed that fly, alive and buzzing... in the name of propriety."

"Well, now that I've taught you how to spit...you know better.

"But all the same," Rose began again. "I've never met anyone like you. You are not afraid to get in there and talk about what is going on inside me. You are not like anyone I have ever known. I am open to you. And, unlike everyone else in my life, you are a good listener."

"And I have never met anyone like you," replied Jack. "You astound me and fascinate me. I have flashed between wanting to save you and protect you to realizing just how intimidatingly awesome you really are."

Jack was so smitten by her at this point... this enigmatic beauty who was so vulnerable and yet somehow so strong. Rose enlightened him with another display of scientific knowledge.

"I read that the stars are so far away, the light coming from them takes years or maybe even centuries to get down here."

"I wonder how they figured that out," asked Jack.

He leaned at the balcony next to her, his hand just touching hers. It was the slightest contact imaginable, and all either one of them could feel was that square inch of skin where their hands touched. Then he stared at Rose for a quiet moment. She looked so beautiful in the dark light and he inched his face just a little closer to her, almost like he wanted a kiss, but then...

"Look! A shooting star!"

Rose pointed to one star that flew across the four funnels. Jack saw it as well, recalling a distant memory.

"My father used to tell me that every time you saw one. It was a soul going to heaven."

"Well, my father told me that you can also wish on a shooting star. I wonder if they'll ever figure out the speed of a wish. If I wish for something right now, how many years will it take to get there and back?"

"What would you wish for?" asked Jack.

Jack turned to face her again, and instead of this happy little girl who had a fine time of partying, she looked serious when she said:

"Something I cannot have."

She was silent for a few seconds, then made her decision. She made her way to the door of the entrance, but stopped and turned back to Jack. It was an awkward moment. It looks like they are about to kiss. The longing is clear, but she is reeling from the very concept. She pulled back, instinctively.

Rose gave him a quick peck on the cheek and closed the door.

Inside her room, her mother already asleep, she sagged against the wall, reeling from her newfound emotions. She tested it again and again in her mind and she could not deny what was happening to her. She looked at her hands. They were shaking.

She laughed at herself. Was this really happening?

She cursed herself for not following her feelings... took a deep breath and ran to the door, flinging it open.

The promenade deck was empty.

She began to run.

Along the promenade, in the dark, to the door leading in to the head of the Grand Staircase. She runs into the magnificent room and looks around. It was deserted, except for two stewards Bernard John Boughton and Albert Edward Coleman. She crossed to the railing, her shoes clicking rapidly on the wooden tiles, and looked down, breathless.

What she saw was a figure one floor down, descending away from her.

"Jack!"

He turned, looking up at her. The figure standing before her wasn't Jack at all, but Frederick Goodwin, a thin-lipped face with a large handlebar mustache, taking in the sea air. Puzzled, the man turned away and went on.

But she had acknowledged what she felt, if only to herself.

Rose looks crestfallen, turning away and is startled by Lovejoy, standing right behind her. "Are you alright, Miss?" he asked

She nodded and he opened the door for her as she went back to her stateroom.

And no sooner had the door to her room been shut when Titanic received an ice warning; her second via Morse lamp from the crippled steamer Rappahannock, which was ten miles off the starboard bow. Sailing eastward from Halifax to London, the Furness-Withy Line ship had damaged her rudder and bow in heavy ice not too far to the west. Titanic flashed a brief acknowledgement and continued on course. No mention of the warning was posted in the chart room.

Jack returned to his cabin, still wearing the suit before taking it off. His thoughts of Rose being confined in such a company was something that was starting to plague his mind. With the way her mother and fiancée were treating her, as she had described to him earlier that day, he was looking for a way to pay them out by convincing Rose to run away with him when the ship docked in New York. Maybe somewhere along the way, he would confess the growing realization that he was starting to fall in love with her.

As Jack went to sleep, Titanic's wireless transmitter stopped working between 11:00 p.m. and midnight. Operator Phillips took notice of this when the volumes of his dots and dashes fell quiet, a bit faint at first, then silent. The electricity emitting onto both sides of the spark gap transmitter faded out as well. First he tried moving the tongs of the spark gap transmitter closer together and tapped again; no signal came in or out. Knowing very well that something might have happened to the system, he went over to the bed, gently waking Operator Bride.

”Harold, it’s your shift,” he said.

Bride woke up.

”Good God, already?”

”Yeah, now come on. I need you to help me with the wireless.”

Bride walked over to the equipment and began tapping on the key. Again, no response.

”Looks like we’ll have to take a look at the system together,” Phillips said.

Bride agreed and they spent the entire night examining the condensers, assuming that they had broken. Phillips took them out one by one, and in the process discovered a much different problem. The wires from the transformer's secondary had burned through their casing and grounded the system's power on some iron bolts that held the equipment frame to the woodwork. Phillips bound the leads with rubber tape to insulate them again. By the time they reassembled everything, it would be the start of a new day.

Chapter Text

Eight bells ringing from the crow's nest marked the beginning of Titanic's first Sunday afloat. The bridge was dark, with only the faint light of the compass emitting from the wheelhouse. Fourth Officer Boxhall and Sixth Officer Moody took over from Third Officer Pitman and Fifth Officer Lowe as they discussed the ship's running and so-called "items of interest"; like the weather, everybody's health, a few dull topics and the ship's speed. Moody and Boxhall quietly returned to their cabins, careful not to wake Captain Smith. In the crow's nest, lookouts Alfred Evans and George Hogg began their shift as well. About fifteen minutes later, the Second Class bandsmen were back in their cabin after finishing the final pieces of the day.

Four bells and it was two in the morning, Archie Jewel and George Symons took over from Evans and Hogg in the crow's nest.

"Getting cold, isn't it?" asked Jewel as they bundled up.

"Aye," replied Symons. "Smells like rain. Until our shift is over, we'll be soaked in the morning."

The two men shared a good laugh and some happy gossip for the rest of the early hours.

Six bells marked three in the morning. Most of the passengers were still asleep, but Lady Duff-Gordon was feeling uneasy. Ever since she booked her tickets at White Star's Paris office, and heard the words "This first voyage is going to make history in ocean travel," she had a rather "sinking" feeling at the bottom of her heart, as though the voyage itself was indeed going to make history, but not in a good way. Sir Cosmo, sleeping in the cabin across the hall from her, was at complete ease, and so was her secretary Laura Francatelli, who was sleeping it off in E-36.

Two decks below her, Jack was sleeping fitfully. All he could think about was Rose, the way she dressed, she way she carried herself and the way she looked so beautiful, you would never guess that she had a troubled life. She was a princess trapped in a tower, and Cal was a terrible fire-breathing dragon. He felt like a little boy again, as he strode up on his mighty white steed, dressed from head to toe in strong metal armor. Off he ran, to the very top of that ivory tower, swinging his sword down upon the dragon with a deadly blow. After Cal had undergone through an extremely painful bifurcation, he turned around to kiss Rose, waking his Sleeping Beauty from her slumber...

...and then he woke up.

Seeing the darkness of his bunk, and hearing the ambient hum of the engines, he went back to sleep.

Rose's dreams were nothing short of a repeat of the Steerage party playing over and over again. The music, the wild dancing, and the unity of many classes, countries and people of all shapes, sizes and color was a world that she and many others longed for, an unobtainable utopia that would soon be threated by war.

At four in the morning, the officers changed shifts again, while the stokers and trimmers below them were sitting down to an early breakfast of carrots, beef and onions.

Phillips and Bride were back on the air by 5:00 a.m., but now they were six hours behind on their work. They began logging their wireless messages according to New York Time, rather than Greenwich. With requested information received from shore stations, the two began work on the Atlantic Daily Bulletin, the ship's newspaper, writing short summaries of news from around the world, stock exchange prices and racing results.

6:00 a.m., four bells, Violet Jessop was just about getting ready for her 17 hour shift with cabinmate and fellow stewardess Elizabeth Leather. Meanwhile, in the C-62 bedroom suite, Madeleine Astor was suffering from morning sickness, as most pregnant women often are.

"Unwell, dear?" asked her husband when he joined her by the bed.

"It's fine," she said, trying not to moan. "I'll be fully well when the baby arrives."

Although Madeleine had been pregnant for four months, Astor was anxious, but patient, to see his son or daughter, wondering if the social circles that scandalized his marriage would think differently of him when they would be introduced to the baby.

6:30 brought the sound of five bells. The Second Class passengers were being awakened by the sound of cockerels crowing. Frederick Wright, the squash court attendant was just opening up shop.

Rose was waking up as well, but only for a few moments to watch the morning sky turn from purple to blue under an overcast sky. Below, on G-Deck, Jack heard a slight drizzle of rain pattering from the outside. Seeing the morning sky reminded him of home. How he couldn't wait to be back there again. But would Rose agree to his idea of running away with him so that she could see it too? Only time would tell.

Speaking of time, Steward Etches arrived at A-36, the cabin of Mr. Andrews, with his usual breakfast of tea and fruit. When he came in, he could tell that Andrews had been down in the engine room, as his blue surveyor's suit lying on the bed was grimy and slightly effected by steam vapor.

8:00 in the morning plus eight bells equals the forenoon watch, which meant that Quartermasters Hitchens, Olliver and Rowe had to take over from Arthur Bright, William Wynn and Walter Perkis. Around this time, breakfast was being served to some of the First and Second Class passengers by stewards.

At 9:00, Titanic received her third ice warning from the Cunard Line's Caronia. This message, addressed to Captain Smith, said:

"Westbound steamers report bergs, growlers and field ice in 42N from 49 to 51 West April 12th. Compts. Barr."

Smith began his Sunday by posting the warning on the wall in the chart room. Second Officer Lightoller marked the location on the map and calculated that they would reach the position at around 11:00 p.m.. Of the three warnings received, this was the first one given significant attention in the chart room.

At the same time, Rose was having tea and crumpets for breakfast with Cal in the private promenade. Ismay and her mother had already gone down to breakfast in the dining saloon to discuss the possibility of a tour with Mr. Andrews. After Trudy had poured the coffee, Cal took this chance to speak with Rose on a serious matter. The cold, rainy weather outside seemed to reflect his foreboding mood. Rose, in return, was feeling hungover and guilty. She avoided eye contact with Cal.

"I was hoping you would come to me last night."

Rose looked up from her tea, the matters of Cal's sexual libido a complete indifference to her.

"I was tired. Besides, it’s not like we’ve done it many times before."

"I figured you would say that," Cal answered. "Your excursions below decks were no doubt exhausting."

"So you had that undertaker of a manservant follow me from behind?" asked Rose in suspicion.

"Of course," said Cal in a serious tone. "Your unseemly behavior the night before is unacceptable. Dancing and carousing like a common wanton with the steerage class. Are you intentionally trying to provoke me?"

"No, I am not," said Rose defensively. "They're just people, Cal. Trying to get from England to New York like we are."

"Your demeanor lately seems crafted to embarrass me among his peers at every opportunity, and I won't stand for it. You not to go to the lower class decks again. And I don't want you to see Mr. Dawson ever again."

"Or what?" asked Rose defiantly. "Do you really think you can command me like I am some kind of a servant? I am your fiancé."

Then, out of the blue, the most horrific surprise happened that caught Rose off guard. A scream howled from Cal's throat. His right hand flew underneath the table, causing it to be tossed into the air by three feet and landed completely upside down, spilling the contents. Cal thrust himself in front of Rose's face, breaking into her personal barrier.

"Yes you are and my wife! Which also makes you my wife in practice, if not yet by law, so you will honor me the way a wife is required to honor her husband, because I will not be made a fool of by some beggar who thinks that classes should mingle. Is this in any way unclear?"

Rose, feeling small and helpless as she sat there in the wicker chair, quivering from Cal's anger, nodded her head.

"Yes," she added.

"Good! Because if I ever catch you with that filth again, there will be consequences."

"What sort of consequences?" Rose was almost too afraid to ask.

"I don't know," Cal smiled in a hellish, sadistic way. "But I'll think of something."

He looked down to notice a slight tea stain on his beige vest and he left Rose in a state of shock and fear. Jack would have never behaved as immaturely as that. Thinking of him, she wondered what Cal might do to him if he were to see her again. If this was what their life was going to be like as soon as she said the fateful words “I do”, it was going to be too much to bear.

Just then Trudy came in and saw the mess.

"What happened here?" she asked.

"Nothing, Trudy," Rose hitched a sob. "We just had a little accident."

But Trudy could see the tears sprouting from Rose's eyes and offered her a tissue. Rose thanked her and blew her nose, grateful to have someone by her side.

She was even more grateful when Trudy tied her corset on a few minutes later, softly and less hardening. Not like her mother with the way she jerked on the stays.

"Trudy, have you ever dreamed of being something else besides a maid?" Rose asked out of the blue.

"Not really, Miss Rose," Trudy replied. "I'm rather happy as maid. but I wouldn't mind trying to do other risks for a change."

Rose smiled at this, muttering in return.

"Not that my mother would have anything to say about it."

Speaking of Ruth, Rose was due to tie her corset in her cabin right after she was done.

Ruth had her own suspicions as to what exactly Rose was doing with that young man, even though she told her so last night. But when Cal told Ruth what Lovejoy had told him, her face had gone beet red. But, being a very composed mood this morning, Ruth had a full day planned for the entire party:

"First there will be the hymn sing, lunch with the Astors, then Mr. Andrews has offered to take us on a tour of the ship, then tea with the Countess of Rothes, then dinner with the Wideners at the restaurant, and I do hope they have that lobster bisque again."

Rose could not have cared any less.

"Would it be all right if maybe I told you that...I had other plans?"

Ruth frowned.

"Like sneaking away to meet Mr. Dawson? Cal told me about your excursions last night and quite frankly, I am ashamed of you, Rose, traipsing with those peasants down in steerage. You could have gotten sick, or worse."

Rose just rolled her eyes.

”Mother, I am perfectly fine. In fact, I hadn’t felt this happy since before you introduced me to Cal.”

She put more elbow grease into tying her mother's corsets as the witch went on.

"And furthermore, I do not want you to see Mr. Dawson again. Do you understand me?"

Rose rolled her eyes.

"Oh stop it, Mother. You'll get yourself a headache."

"You're such a little fool, jeopardizing everything so close to the wedding."

"I will sit for my portrait, as agreed."

She smiled at the thought of it.

"You will not," said Ruth sternly.

Her nerves briefly shot, Rose tried to protest.

"But Cal has already commissioned the drawing."

"He was only offering that poor boy some dignity amid such fine company," said Ruth snootily. "He wasn't serious."

"He was serious," argued Rose. "I heard him."

"Then he is testing you, and the situation is even more dangerous. Don't you see, everything we've worked for is at stake?"

"Everything you worked for."

Ruth turned to face her. She tried her very best to sound open and understand.

"Rose, I was seventeen once, but I wasn't raised in a convent. I know what a girl your age gets to thinking."

Her tone went back into strictness.

"But all the same, this boy is a bad influence on your behavior, and he is nothing to a woman of your station."

"But what if he does mean something to me, Mother? Unlike you, he isn't motivated by money, he sees people for who they are and he's very deep into understanding them. If you had gotten a chance to know him better like I did, you would never go around embarrassing him like you did last night."

Ruth was....more or less remorseless.

"Even so, his name means nothing to solidify an empire. Only the Hockley name can accomplish that."

Rose having heard this not too long ago, crossed her arms in dissatisfaction.

"I wish you wouldn't put all of this on my shoulders," she muttered.

Ruth turned her daughter to the vanity mirror, standing behind her with her hands on her shoulders.

"Rose, look at yourself. Look at who you are."

"No, mother. You look at who I am. Please, just once."

But Ruth still wouldn't give in to her heart.

"If you even think about leaving us for that boy, our name will come crashing down. I will have to work as a seamstress, our fine memories will be sold at auction and our memories will be scattered to the winds."

Now she knew that, in her head, there was nowhere else to go but stay. But her heart was urging her to see Jack again, no matter how many threats the monstrous Cal would throw at her.

Meanwhile, Archibald Gracie was also attending to both body and soul as part of his morning routine.

"When Sunday morning came," he recalled. "I considered it high time to begin my customary exercises, and determined for the rest of the voyage to patronise the squash racket court, gymnasium, the swimming pool, etc. I was up early before breakfast and met the professional racquet player in a half hours warming up, preparatory for a swim in the 6-ft deep tank of saltwater, heated to a refreshing temperature. In no swimming bath I had ever enjoyed such pleasure before. The exercise and the swim gave me an appetite for a hearty breakfast. Then followed the church service in the dining saloon, and I remember how much I was impressed with the ‘Prayer for those at Sea,’ also the words of the hymn, which we sang, No. 418 of the Hymnal."

At the stroke of 10:30, church services were held in every class. Captain Smith led the prayers in the First Class Dining Room, while Assistant Purser Reginald Barker lead the ones in Second Class. This was not an unusual occurrence at sea. For centuries, ship's captains and other high-ranking officials were considered the ultimate civil and spiritual authorities of a small, if temporary, community far from land, however, five of Titanic's Second Class passengers were official members of the clergy. The best known was Father Thomas R.D. Byles, a Roman Catholic priest from London on his way to officiate the wedding of his brother William. There was also Father Joseph M. Peruschitz, a Benedictine priest from Bavaria who had helped Father Byles conduct Sunday mass in the Third Class General Room. Reverend Ernest C. Carter, a Church of England vicar also from London, led Second Class Passengers (with the help of his wife Lilian) in the singing of hymns. The hymn was "Eternal Father Strong to Save".

Rose who had selected a blue dress for the day to reflect her inner feelings, spent most of her time as a silent little doll, just as society would want her to be. To add insult to injury, Ruth had forced her to wear a matching hat with two egret feathers across the brim, hiding her hair which was neatly combed up. Not a single strand was hanging from the back. As she stood in the middle of the group, sandwiched with her mother on her right and Cal on her left, she followed along to the words, her voice ever so beautiful and so angelic that it carried out all the way to the reception area.

After spending the first thirty minutes of Sunday service in the General Room between Fabrizio and Tommy, Jack knew it was his time to sneak away and find Rose. He was so looking forward to pouring out his feelings for her that he soon forgot all about the suit Rose had given him, which was lying under his bunk. Some of the stewards usually guarding the First and Second Class entrances were at the service, so sneaking into First Class via the door to the Grand Staircase on E-Deck from Scotland Road had become easier. He climbed up the stairs to find an empty reception room and the faint, beautiful singing of the hymnals from behind the closed doors of the dining saloon, guarded by Andy Latimer, who didn't seem to recognize Jack when he walked up to him.

"Excuse me, sir. But church services are already in progress. If you are looking for someone in there, you'll have to wait."

"But I need to speak with someone right now!" Jack protested. "Her name is Rose DeWitt Bukater."

Lovejoy, who was standing with the other servants, was within earshot of Jack's voice and stepped through the doors.

"He'll tell you," Jack said when he spotted Lovejoy.

But it was unfortunate for him that the valet had to be the bearer of bad news.

"Mr. Hockley and Mrs. DeWitt Bukater continue to be appreciative of your assistance, but sadly, your services here are no longer required without a token of appreciation."

He presented a twenty dollar bill to Jack.

"Thanks, Mr. Lovejoy, but I don't need your money. I need to speak with Rose."

Lovejoy felt like laughing.

"What could a pauper like you want with someone like her? Need I remind you that you hold a Third Class ticket? You prescience here is no longer appropriate."

"Who cares?" asked Jack exasperated. "I just want to speak to Rose, at least for one second, please?"

But his pleas proved to be an exercise in futility.

"Mr. Latimer, could you see to it that Mr. Dawson gets back to where he belongs and that he stays there for the remainder of the voyage?"

"Yes, sir."

Mr. Latimer took Jack by the arm, escorting him all the back to Scotland Road. On the way, he said,

"I find you to be a nice young man, but rules are rules."

And he left Jack at the First Class door to the hall, but not before locking the door. Defeated, Jack returned to the General Room, meeting his friends.

"So how did it go?" asked Fabrizio, who had a hunch that Jack had snuck off to First Class when he noticed he was gone.

"Terribly," Jack informed. "That Lovejoy guy practically had me kicked out for seeing Rose."

"Just forget about her," said Tommy. "She's a goddess amongst mortal men and there's no denying it. I do admit it was fun having her around while it lasted."

"If you want to have more fun with her," Jack was beginning to concoct a plan. "Then why don't you and Fabrizio help me sneak up to First Class?"

Tommy cocked his eyebrows.

"Sneak up?"

"I think they've locked the door," Jack said, adding under his breath. "Those snobs are so picky."

"I wouldn't want to get into anymore trouble," Tommy said. "Besides, I think it's too late, those snobs have already closed the door for you."

"It wasn't them, it was that Cal guy and her mother. It's pretty clear that they don't see me as a person the same way Rose does and I can tell that Rose obviously wants nothing to do with them. Now will you help me?"

Tommy smiled, as did Fabrizio. Now all they to do was come up with a strategy.

Around 11:00, Mr. Andrews gathered his select group for the tour, initially composing of Rose, Ruth, Cal, and a few additional names to the list, W.T. Stead, Charlotte Cardeza and Dorothy and Pauline Gibson. Rose seemed a bit glad that Dorothy would be accompanying her on the tour. First they went to the squash court, where Cal spent a lot of fun heckling Colonel Gracie from the viewing screen balcony, causing Gracie to miss a serve during a duel with Sir Cosmo Duff-Gordon. Andrews lead them to the door of the court, unlocking it with a master key, as a demonstration, since he could go anywhere on the ship with it.

stop was the gymnasium, where T. W. McCauley, the instructor, a bouncy little man in white flannels, seemed eager to show off his equipment. There was a pair of electric camels, an electric horse, a rowing machine, a punching bag, a weightlifter and two stationary bikes. Cal considered the rowing machine an instant favorite of his.

"It reminds me of my Harvard days," he beamed, trying to make himself look fun for a change in front of Rose.

As soon as he was finished, McCauley asked Ruth.

"Would you like to try your hand at rowing, madam?"

"Don't be absurd," Ruth said snootily. "I cannot imagine learning a skill that I'll need less."

"Why not, Mother?" asked Rose sardonically. "You could use the exercise."

Andrews laughed, Ruth's eyebrows narrowed, the rest of the group had mixed reactions and Cal's glare reminded Rose to not act out of line.

"Our next stop will be the bridge!" Mr. Andrews proudly announced.

Rose lagged behind, her eyes fixated on the punching bag, she was so angry at her mother being a stubborn mule and an all around stick in the mud that she imagined hers and Cal's faces on the bag and threw a right hook at it. Now that she was finally able to let off some steam, she rejoined the group.

At 11:20, while the crew that was about to form the afternoon watch was having lunch, Second Class passenger Madeleine Mellenger and her mother Elizabeth were sitting to the last ten minutes of the Sunday service. They were returning to their cabin when they asked Captain Smith and his officers in the reception room what they were going to do next.

"We'll be inspecting the watertight doors and compartments," he replied and left.

By 11:30, Colonel Gracie was with Ida and Isidor Straus, conversing over the possibility of sending their son Jesse, who was traveling to Europe with his wife via the Hamburg-America Line's Amerika, a wireless message. They were planning to say "fine voyage, fine ship, fine feeling, what news" in those exact words.

In spite of appeals for divine guidance from the service, there was still a human element at work. At 11:47 a.m., Titanic received her fourth ice warning. The Dutch Liner Noordam, addressing Captain Smith, sent a report of much ice in the region described by the Caronia. "Much ice in roughly the same position," it said.

"Not to worry," he told Rose and Ruth while they were touring the bridge. "Quite normal for this time of year."

Later, Smith had the wireless operators acknowledge the message, but he did not post it on the map. Of four warnings, still only one had been prominently posted in the chart room. No one could suspect that the officers had only twelve hours left to take the ice warning seriously.

The temperature started to dip and all but the hardiest passengers moved inside, except for those on the tour. But even cold weather couldn't keep the courageous Jack Dawson from reaching Rose. Using a nearby ladder, he climbed onto A-Deck. Being certain to make sure that no one was watching, Jack looked left and right, then pulled himself onto the other side. He was careful not to slip on the damp decks. Nearby, Arthur Ryerson and Frederick Spedden were watching Douglas, who was spinning a top with a string. Ryerson's overcoat and hat were sitting on a deck chair nearby. Jack gave the three a quick glance, and calmly picked up the coat and bowler hat. He walked away, slipping into the coat, and slicked his hair back with spit. Then, as he disappeared into the promenade deck, he placed the hat on at a jaunty angle. At a distance he could indeed pass for a gentleman.

Eight bells and it was midday, the afternoon watch was about to begin and Titanic's whistles were being tested, catching Andrews and the group almost off-guard.

"Nothing to fear," he reassured. "They're just testing the whistles."

They left the bridge just as Pitman and Lowe entered, ready to begin their shift.

It was the custom on all White Star liners to hold a lifeboat drill for passengers on the first Sunday afternoon at sea. But because of the service, Captain Smith had decided to cancel the scheduled lifeboat drill as he didn't want to leave his passengers with worrisome thoughts on an unsinkable ship. He was also satisfied with the cursory drill for the Board of Trade inspectors that had taken place prior to Titanic's departure and saw no need for a stop in the middle of the ocean. The ship was moving efficiently. His concerns had become something of a great interest to Rose, who asked Mr. Andrews a foreboding question.

"I'm curious, Mr. Andrews, how many boats are there plus the capacity they can carry?"

"I was just about to mention that," Mr. Andrews smiled proudly. "We have about 20 boats, enough for 1,178 seats in total."

"I don't think that's enough for everyone on board," said Rose, feeling a little nervous.

"Half the people onboard actually," Andrews stated. "Funnily enough, Mr. Carlisle originally wanted 32 boats, but we thought it best to leave it at 20. At least it didn't make the deck look too cluttered. Or so the Board of Trade had to remind us of their rules.”

Cal tapped Lifeboat 5 with his walking stick disdainfully.

"I think it's already a waste of deck space. The ship is unsinkable after all."

"And to think my daughter made a scare the other day that your ship wasn't," added Ruth.

“You can sleep soundly tonight, Rose,” smiled Mr. Andrews. “She has all the lifeboats you need.”

Everyone else continued on, but Rose lagged behind, thinking about the event of a worse-case scenario and not noticing the disguised Jack leaning against Lifeboat 7. He tapped Rose on the arm and she turned. Before she had time to gasp, he motioned her towards the door of the gymnasium, Jack held the door open and pushed her in.

There was no one else inside the gym except for one Lily Alexenia Potter, her daughter Olive, Miss Margaret Hays and McCawley. Jack closed the door and spoke as quietly as he could.

"Rose, I need to talk to you."

"Jack, you can't. If Cal catches me with you...he said there will be consequences."

"What sort of consequences?" Jack asked.

"That what's I asked him," Rose admitted. "But whatever they are, I am certain that they won't be any good."

Jack smiled in a cocky way.

"Whatever Cal has to throw at me, I can handle him."

Rose was proud of the way Jack was willing to face Cal in a match to the death, but at the same time, she grew worried for his safety.

"I appreciate you trying to stand up to Cal, but it's not up to you to save me, Jack. Only I can do that. But you shouldn't also have to worry about me. I'll be fine."

Jack shook his head and his face grew serious with concern.

"I don't think so. Cal and your mom have got you trapped into this marriage, Rose and if you don't break free, you're gonna die. Why else did you want to jump off the back of the ship if you hated your life so much?"

"I guess I wasn't thinking straight."

But Jack could see how miserable she looked, seeing it in her soul.

"I know you weren't thinking straight. The truth about you Rose is that you may be a spoiled bitch, but underneath all of that, you are the most amazing, astounding and wonderful girl, or woman that I have ever met. I can tell you don't want to go back, because if you stay with them, that fire that I love about you is going to burn out.”

He paused for a moment, then finally decided to pop the question (another question, before you jump to conclusions).

"Will you run away with me to Chippewa Falls when we dock?"

Rose thought about it for a moment. She could see how besotted Jack was to her, but now her mind was at an impasse. Would she leave everything behind for him, or would she marry Cal and tolerate a life with him for as long as possible? She was certain about one thing involving Cal: he always kept his word and if avoiding Jack was the only way she was going to protect him, her decision had been settled.

"I’m sorry, Jack, but I can’t risk you getting hurt if that’s what Cal plans to do. Now for your sake, leave me alone."

Hearing the pain in her voice, Jack did as he was told. He watched her disappear behind the frosted windows of the gymnasium.

Rose ran as fast as she could to catch up with the group, who were just about to enter the Second Class entrance on the way down to the engine room, Andrews having permission from the captain of course. Ruth seemed to be the only one who noticed that Rose was missing, so when she caught up with them, Ruth scolded her as usual.

"Where have you been?" she whispered.

"Nowhere, I got distracted."

She felt her mother's left arm wrapped around her waist, as though pulling her back into her own stifled world forever.

"Better to keep a clear head, dear."

Ruth smiled, her encouragement sounding sincere.

As for our heartbroken hero, poor Jack made his way back to his station via the Second Class stairs down to the aft well deck. Those who saw paid him no mind given his disguise. Tommy and Fabrizio were nowhere in sight, so he broke the bad news to the Sages, who were watching the children playing tag. John patted him on the back and said: "Cheer up lad, it was inevitable. A lady like her and a no account like yourself, what were you expecting?"

"True love, I guess."

"True love?" Annie shook her head. "I'm afraid that sort of thing only exists in our part of the world. Up there they marry for money."

"At least I earned my way in life," said John in a romantic undertone. "And it rewarded me with you."

He gave his wife a kiss on the right cheek. Jack, watching with envy, imagined Rose and himself in their places.

By the time the tour was close to completion, the White Star liner Baltic sent Titanic an ice warning from the Greek steamer Athinai describing large quantities of field ice, 250 miles dead ahead.

"Greek steamer Athinai reports passing icebergs and large quantity of field ice today in latitude 41.51 N, longitude 49.52 W." was the extent of the message.

This message, arriving at 1:42 p.m., was the ship's fifth ice warning. This also failed to appear in the chart room. Captain Smith had handed it to Bruce Ismay on the promenade deck, but their exact conversation could only be guessed. Ismay pocketed the message and headed down to lunch.

By 1:45, Jack had taken an afternoon puff in the Third Class Smoking Room, which looked as modest as a pub on the wrong side of the tracks compared to Second and First Class. Tommy and Fabrizio joined him. Helga, knowing very well that women were not allowed in there, stayed with her parents in the general room.

"Where did you get the coat?" asked Fabrizio when Jack came in.

"Found it on a bench."

Jack was too depressed to care about where he got it from. He left the bowler hat by the gymnasium window and was planning on returning it, but with so much on his mind, he never got the chance.

Tommy patted him on the back. "Cheer up lad, it was inevitable. A lady like her and a no account like yourself, what were you expecting?"

"I guess I was expecting for her to love me back," Jack admitted sadly. "But she's engaged to that Cal guy. I know she doesn't want to, but her mom is forcing her to marry him just so she won't end up where we are."

"Well, maybe that's for the best," said Tommy after two puffs on his Havana. "After all it is sin to steal another man's fiancée."

"To be honest, Tom, I don't know what to do."

"Well, I do," Fabrizio coughed. "Tommy, do you have a razor I could borrow? I need to shave my pubes. I don't think Helga would want to make love to me in a cespuglio di ginere."

Jack wasn't entirely sure as to what it meant, but at least his friend's crass sense of humor cheered him up...for a while.

At 2:00 p.m., Titanic's wireless operators received yet another ice warning. This sixth one was from Amerika. She reported passing several large icebergs. "in 41° 27′ N, 50° 8′ W" were the coordinates described. Jack Phillips did not pass this message on to Titanic's officers because it was not addressed to Titanic, but rather to the US Hydrographic Office in Washington. Established in 1866 as a department of the Navy, this bureau existed to map and record oceanic conditions all over the world. Ships' captains routinely sent in reports of navigational hazards. The information, unless it involved national security, was generally considered public knowledge.

Anyway, as wireless protocol dictates, overhead messages were not considered official and operators were not required to make a record of receiving them. For this, Phillips handled the communication only because Amerika, whose signal was much weaker, needed the help of other ships to relay her message. Unfortunately, only one of the six ice warnings had been posted for all the officers to see.

Together, all six of these ice warnings had been describing parts of a large ice field lying directly across the North Atlantic shipping lanes. Ice was not unheard of there, but that much of it was unusual for mid-April. A warm winter had led to excessive melting of the Greenland glaciers, and as a result, a carpet of broken ice was drifting southward on the Labrador Current. Captain Smith, unaware of the magnitude, corrected Titanic's course by swinging her bow ten miles south of The Corner, the usual turning point on the route. He planned to speed around the bottom of what he thought was a much smaller obstacle. But Smith could not know that for all of her grandeur and her many safety features, Titanic was still closing in fast on the very ice field that he hoped to avoid.

In the meantime, Rose trudged through the rest of the day as usual, pastries with Cal in the Café Parisian, catching up with Dorothy in the Reading and Writing Room... and now she was having tea with her mother, the Countess and Lady-Duff Gordon in the First Class Lounge, the most elegant room on the ship, done in the style of Louis Quinze Versaille. Rose sat in her chair, silent and still as a porcelain figurine as the conversation washed around her. It was all too much.

"I heard you had a bit of a disaster with the stationaries," the Countess was saying.

"The invitations had to be sent back twice," Ruth said. "And those dreadful bridesmaids gowns. Let me tell you what an odyssey that has been: Rose decided she wanted lavender. She knows I detest the color so she did it to spite me."

"You should have come to me sooner," said Lady-Duff Gordon.

She turned her head to the Countess.

"Ruth saw some of my designs in La Mode Illustrée for the Duchess of Marlborough, they were quite charming. But I think you will agree my dear that together we have created something of a phoenix from the ashes!"

The ladies laughed haughtily. Rose tuned them out, her frustration needing a target...and she was painting a big bull's eye on Bess Allison trying to teach Loraine how to sit properly. Towards the table next to them was Lucile Carter, teaching her daughter Lucile II and son William Jr. how to hold a cookie properly. Rose felt sorry to see them go through the same relentless conditioning her mother had put her through whenever her father was away. Ruth's reprimands echoed in her head.

"Women who act like tomboys never find a suitable future!....Rose, why can't you be more like Mrs. Thayer and I?...You will not be able to earn a good catch if you keep up this way!"

Remembering Jack's words, Rose knew in an instant that the pain of becoming an Edwardian geisha was not the kind of life she had in mind. Then she remembered what her mother had said earlier that day, and decided once and for all that she was going to make the right choice: she was going to find Jack and profess her need for him. But first, she needed to get away. The tea cup, which was half-full, gave her an idea. Calmly and deliberately, she turned her teacup over, spilling the contents all over her dress.

"Oh! I must have slipped it out my hand," she chuckled falsely. "May I go and clean myself, Mother?"

"Suit yourself," said Ruth, barely concentrating on Rose's "incident". "But don't forget, we'll be having dinner in an hour, so you had better be ready."

"Don't worry, I won't," said Rose under her breath.

As Rose entered the promenade deck, the biting north wind had died down and some of her fellow passengers were venturing out on deck to marvel at the last glow of the sunset off the port bow. One woman from Second Class, Marie Jerwan, was looking back on what seemed like a perfect day: 

"Life on board the ship is very gay, especially when the sea is calm. The weather was exceptional, superb for the season. Therefore there were few illnesses. We had at our disposal three walking decks, and a very large, well-arranged lounge where there were concerts twice a day. The dining room was very large and well decorated. For table-mates I had a Frenchman, Mr Malachard, who was coming to New York for business. Mr Malachard had his cabin next to ours and occupied it with two other gentlemen, one of which was a French engineer. We often had a moment of conversation with them in French after dinner or in the lounge, whereas, with Mrs Balls and Mr Bateman, we spoke English. The trip was one of the most beautiful of the season. The passengers prepared for a concert on Monday; the profits were for poor shipwrecked sailors. We did not suspect then that we ourselves would be shipwrecked."

At 6:00 p.m., Mrs. Emily Ryerson, watching the sunset with Marian Thayer on the aft end of the promenade deck, heard word of an ice warning from Bruce Ismay:

"As far as I can now recall all I could say would be that I was on deck in the afternoon of April 14 between 5-6 o'clock and Mr. Ismay came up and inquired if our staterooms were comfortable and the service satisfactory etc. and then thrust a Marconigram at me, saying, we were in among the icebergs. Something was said about speed and he said that the ship had not been going fast yet that they were to start up extra boilers that afternoon or evening (I forget when.) The telegram also spoke of the Deutschland, a ship out of coal and asking for a tow, and when I asked him what they were going to do about that he said they had no time for such matters, our ship wanted to do her best and something was said about getting in Tuesday night. I was not much interested and cannot remember the exact words and details but repeated the conversation immediately to my husband and to Miss Bowen when I went down to my cabin and she remembers it and the strong impression which was left in my mind and in hers was that they were speeding the ship up—to get away from the ice—and that we would probably get in late Tuesday night or early Wednesday morning. Mr. Ismay's manner was that of one in authority and the owner of the ship and that what he said was law." 

Arthur Ryerson and John Thayer arrived to join their wives and Ismay moved back inside. The two Philadelphian families followed him for further discussion of Titanic's impending arrival. Captain Smith would later ask Ismay to return the ice warning so that he could post it on the map in the chart room.

Rumors of ice were also circulating amongst the passengers, including Colonel Gracie:

"Towards evening the report, which I heard, was spread that wireless messages from passing steamers had been received advising the officers of our ship of the presence of icebergs and ice-floes. The increasing cold and the necessity of being more warmly clad when appearing on deck were outward and visible signs in corroboration of these warnings. But despite them all no diminution of speed was indicated and the engines kept up their steady running."

By 6:15, Trimmer Samuel Hemming had just placed the oil lamps into the emergency lifeboats, something he had been doing for the past four days at this time, as such boats are to be used in case someone fell overboard. At this time, journalist Edith Rosenbaum, who had spent most of her day in bed due to her heater not working properly, was watching the ship's wake from the aft end of the Boat Deck. Wrapped in a warm fur coat, her mind focused on the beauty of the ship's wake.

"The foam whirled in a great cascade, made blood-red by the rays of a glorious setting sun. It looked like a crimson carpet stretching from the ship to the horizon. I remember commenting to a group of people standing there about this beautiful and awesome waterfall, and then I walked forward in the ship. I was never to see any of these people again."

But for Rose, nothing was on her mind, except for Jack. She took the Grand Staircase down to E-Deck, heading all the way to the open space where the passengers were preparing for another party. Tommy was warming up the instruments, Daly was tuning up his bag pipes and Fabrizio was ready for another dance with Helga when Rose caught their attention.

"Do you know where Jack might be?" she asked the duo.

"Try the bow," Fabrizio said. "He took me there once, to see some dolphins."

"Thanks," Rose said, and left.

Off she went, back up to B-Deck and through the doors on the promenade towards the forecastle. She made her way down the stairs to the well deck and then up the stairs to the forecastle where she came across a sign on the breakwater which read:

"NOTICE: Passengers are not allowed beyond this point."

Stupid sign. Rose fumed. She considered it another obstacle in her path from getting to Jack, one that she could easily overcome. Seeing nobody around, Rose threw her right foot over the breakwater, then her left and continued further, where she found Jack looking down from the apex of the bowsprit. He closed his eyes, letting the chilly wind clear his head.

"Hello, Jack."

He turned around. As if by magic, Rose appeared.

"I thought about what you said and you're right, so I've changed my mind."

To symbolize this, she took off that silly hat and threw it off to the starboard side. Away it blew into the ocean.

"I'm glad you did Rose," Jack smiled, his eyes filling her in. "But how did you find me?"

"Fabrizio said you would be up here."

"I assumed he would," Jack said, his breath condescending under the cold temperature.

Jack's eyes drank her in as she walked toward him. Her cheeks were red with the chilly wind, and her eyes sparkled. Her hair blew wildly about her face in the 21-knot wind.

"Take my hand," he whispered. "I want to show you a whole new world."

She came to him, putting her hands on the curved rail right next to him. She leaned over to look down 60 feet to the water, and when she came up she was tucked in against him. It seemed so natural, like she had been doing it all her life.

"Careful," he urged her.

Above their heads the rigging cables of the foremast hummed in the wind of their forward motion. Jack called out to a tern racing along level with the bowsprit a few yards away. It eyed them suspiciously, wondering what a pair of humans were doing way up here.

Jack raised his arms, letting the wind catch his flat palms like wings. He pretends to bank and the bird trims away a few feet. Laughing, Rose raises her hands from the rail. She arches her back and seems to take flight, her hair streaming back across Jack's cheek. He puts his hands on her waist to steady her. She leans forward into the wind. The engines are so far away, the ship was nearly silent except for the wind and the hiss of water below.

Looking forward all she can see is a limitless expanse of ocean, and it's like there is no ship under them at all, just the two of them soaring. Jack sings a verse of a popular song from the year before:

"Come Josephine in my Flying Machine..."

Rose closes her eyes, feeling herself floating weightless far above the sea. She smiles dreamily, then leans back, gently pressing her back against his chest. He pushed forward slightly against her.

Slowly he raises his hands, arms outstretched, palms up this time. His hands meet hers... fingertips gently touching.

Then their fingers intertwine. Moving slowly, their fingers caress through and around each other like the bodies of two lovers.

Jack's expression changed as an electric force flowed into him through her hands. He tipped his face forward into her blowing hair, letting the scent of her wash over him, until his cheek was against her ear.

It was a moment of realization, exhilaration and promise. Their world was behind them, forgotten. They soared weightless toward a horizon of limitless possibility.

She knew that others could see them and didn't care. Let the cards fall where they may. Rose thought.

Jack tipped his face forward into her blowing hair, letting the scent of her wash over him, until his left cheek was against her right ear.

Rose turned her head until her lips were near his. She lowered her arms, turning further, until she found his mouth with hers. He wrapped his arms around her from behind, and they kissed with her head turned and tilted back, surrendering to him, to the emotion, to the inevitable. They kissed, slowly and tremulously, and then with building passion.

Jack and the ship seemed to merge into one force of power and optimism, lifting her, buoying her forward on a magical journey, soaring onward into a night without fear.

Little did they know that it would be the last time Titanic ever saw daylight.

As soon as they were done smooching, Rose and Jack made their way to the well deck, unsure of what to do next other than facing an inability of keeping their eyes off of each other. Just then, Fletcher sounded his bugle and again, the strains of "The Roast Beef of Old England" played across the decks. They both knew what it meant.

"Shall we go back for dinner?" asked Rose.

"Let's stay for a while," Jack smirked. "Maybe being absent from dinner will teach Cal and your mom a lesson."

"Still, I should let him know where I am and then you can come when the coast is clear."

Jack was more then happy to agree.

Rose returned to her room just in time to change into her evening dress. She placed the long tines of the comb into her hair, holding it upswept in the back. She was beautiful in that saffron yellow dress with white lace. Cal came in, buttoning his vest. Instead of a warm greeting, he took one look at that dress and said:

"I thought I asked you to wear the black velvet we bought in London."

"I chose this," said Rose.

"Never mind," remarked Cal. "We'll be late, and we're at the Captain's table with the Wideners tonight."

"I've decided to sit for my portrait tonight," replied Rose. "I'm even going to wear the diamond in it."

Cal was mollified, but trapped by social responsibility, agreed to let her stay. He had hoped however, that someone else besides Mr. Dawson would be doing the deed.

"Be sure to come down to dinner when you're done," he added frostily, and left.

Once he was safely away, Rose began the next stage of her plan.

Now, Titanic was too large of a ship to rely on human messengers running from place to place. For the smooth operation of a complex vessel over one sixth of a mile in length, there was a shipboard telegraph and five separate telephone systems.

The telegraph had a circular face marked with a range of possible commands. The watch officer on the bridge would push or pull a handle on his dial of the department he wished to contact, accompanied by a ringing bell. There were telegraph units in the engine room, the docking bridge and the wheelhouse.

Telephones linked the places between which more specific communication was required. One system connected the wheelhouse to the forecastle, the crow's nest, the engine room and the poop deck. Another connected the engine room with the chief engineer's cabin and each of the six stokeholds. For those in the Victualling Department to better feed the passengers, two phone systems communicated between the First Class and Second Class pantries and their various galleys, bakeries and butcher shops.

Around 7:00 p.m., the bridge telegraphed the engine room: full speed ahead. The stokers got the message and fired up the last three boilers. Once Joseph Bell, the chief engineer, connected them, Titanic would soon sail ahead under a full head of steam, at or near her top speed of about 22 knots. Bruce Ismay and Thomas Andrews' observation of the ship performing to it's full potential would be honored, but unfortunately, speed has it's disadvantages. The faster Titanic went, the less precisely she would be able to turn.

Rose met up with Jack at the forward stairwell. He was carrying his sketchbook, crayons and pencils in his hands.

"Ready?"

"Ready."

He took his hand, told a nearby steward he was with her and together, they headed back to the room.

Meanwhile, Cal was riding the lift down to D-Deck in total silence. To him, everything seemed to be unfurling into an embarrassment without Rose, but for the rest of the First Class passengers, the voyage had been like a glorious dream. Their new surroundings were exquisite, and the service was excellent. The rich, the powerful and the beautiful mingled in spectacular surroundings. Old and new friends appeared in their finest clothing for Sunday dinner, the best meal yet. Colonel Gracie however, was somewhere between the reality and the unbelievability of the dream itself.

"The pleasure and comfort which all of us enjoyed upon this floating palace, with its extraordinary provisions for such purposes, seemed an ominous feature to many of us, including myself, who felt it almost too good to last without some terrible retribution inflicted by the hand of an angry omnipotence."

Eleanor Cassebeer arrived at the purser's table wearing a white lace dress and an ermine stole, which caught the eye of Mr. Andrews, who was also sitting at the purser's table.

"Now that's the way a lady should look!" he exclaimed.

Margaretha Emerentia Frölicher-Stehli, a 22 year old travelling from Zurich with her parents to meet her fiancée Robert, was looking rather pale. In fact, she had been seasick for the majority of the voyage. She couldn't even touch her plate.

"If only the darn ship would sink!" she muttered to her father.

She looked out of place in her warm woolen suit, but she desperately wanted to be well and be seen in a public space. Her father Max gently scolded her in Swedish while her mother Hedwig tried to help her get better by offering her a cup of beef tea.

In the Reception Room, Jack Thayer was standing by the piano, waiting for the musicians to start. Milton Long was sitting by himself with his back to him. Noticing John Junior, he got up and asked.

"Excuse me, can I use those matches?"

"Sure."

John Junior passed the matches over to them. After introducing themselves, He noticed Cal and Ruth coming their way.

"Mr. Hockley, Mrs. DeWitt Bukater, I'd like you to meet Milton Long."

"How do you do?"

Milton offered his right hand. Ruth and Cal just stared at him like he was a village idiot pretending to be a playboy millionaire. They were too concerned and upset over Rose's absence to be in any mood for formal introductions. John Junior broke the silence by asking.

"Where is Rose?"

"Having her portrait done by another artist," said Ruth quickly.

"What a shame," John Junior said. "I was hoping I could introduce her to Milton."

"You needn't worry," Milton smiled. "I met her and some other man last night."

The indirect mention of Jack Dawson sent a surge of goosebumps down Cal's back. Without another word, he and Ruth proceeded into the dining room.

Even as the wealthy passengers raised their glasses, the next party was just about taking shape, this time in the Third Class General Room. Eugene Daly was tuning up his bagpipes, then proceeded to provide the music. Fabrizio danced with Helga as her parents watched, somewhat nervous, but once the life of the party had settled into their heads, it didn't matter to them. But by now, Fabrizio was wondering if Jack was going to join them.

"Where's Uncle Jack?" asked Cora to her father.

"Who knows?" Bert said.

His wife had no clue either. In fact none of them seemed to notice that Jack was missing, again enjoying the luxuries of First Class (in some way). As soon as Ruth and Cal were out of sight, Rose and Jack safely crossed the foyer and into the B-Deck corridor. Rose opened the door for him upon reaching the B-52 suite.

"I know you've seen my bedroom, but....Welcome to the sitting room."

Jack was overwhelmed by the opulence of the room. It looked pretty small, but still bigger than his own cabin.

"Wow!" he whispered. "How much did Cal pay for these rooms?"

"It's Mr. Ismay's rooms, actually," corrected Rose. "He invited us to stay as his guests while his wife and children are at home. He tells me that they cost $4,400."

Jack's irises grew to the size of saucers.

"Oh my God. By my calculations, four hundred people down in Steerage would travel for that amount!"

They laughed. Outside, the sky was turning violet as the sun slipped below the surface of the ocean. He placed his sketchbook and drawing materials on the table.

"If you're planning on drawing something," Rose said as she placed her shawl down on the table. "I hope this light will do. Artists do need good light, don't they?"

Jack teased her with a French accent.

"Zat is true, I am not used to working in such 'orreeble conditions."

Then he saw the drawings.

"Wow! Monet!"

He crouched down to take a closer look at the Water Lilies.

"I'm glad you enjoy his work," smiled Rose. "Cal has no taste in case you forgot."

"I course I like his work, especially his use of color. I actually saw him once...through a hole in this garden fence in Giverny. He was working on a painting like this."

"Let me show you something interesting," Rose said.

She walked over into B-54, opened the door to the wardrobe and found the green safe hidden behind it. As she turned, having remembered the combination from Cal in case she wanted to get some valuables out, Rose noticed Jack standing behind her and said.

"Cal insists on carting this hideous thing everywhere for the safety of his money."

"Should we be expecting him or your mother any time after dinner?"

"Not as long as the cigars and brady hold out, considering he and Mr. Ismay will be in the smoking room until eleven," replied Rose. "As for Mother, she'll be gabbing off with her friends in the lounge as usual."

"And the servants?"

"At dinner in the maids saloon."

Rose opened the safe up and presented Jack the Heart of the Ocean. His eyes were transfixed by it's beauty.

"That looks nice. Is it like a sapphire or something?"

"It's a very rare diamond once owned by Louis XVI. They called it La Coeur de la Mer...the Heart of the Ocean."

"You know your French history," Jack was impressed by her knowledge before asking. "So you want me to draw this?"

"Actually, I was thinking of a way to get even with Cal. Remember last night when he asked you to draw my portrait?"

"Yeah."

"I want you to draw me like your French girl, wearing only this."

Jack's response was a wide-eyed stare of surging internal emotions sparked by the mental imagery of Rose in the nude.

But it was nothing compared to what was going on in the bridge at about 7:30 after Rose went into her room to prepare. Wireless Operator Bride arrived there with an ice message. He handed it to First Officer Murdoch. This, the ship's seventh warning, came from the Leyland Line's Californian. Californian was launched on November 26th, 1901 by the Caledon Shipbuilding Company, Ltd. of Dundee, Scotland. The company intended to use her for shipping cotton. Her design was changed to accommodate more passengers when International Mercantile Marine acquired the Leyland Line. At 6,223 gross tons with a length of 447 feet, she frequently sailed to ports in the Southern U.S., as well as the Northeast. On this very day, she was travelling to Boston, Massachusetts with a cargo of cotton under the command of her fourth master, Stanley Lord, who had taken command since March 27th, 1911. Wireless Operator Phillips had just relayed the message to Leyland's Antillian as a favor for Californian. The relayed warning did not make it's way to the chart room. The ice was reportedly 50 miles away. Titanic was sailing straight into it at nearly full speed.

Back in her room, Rose was drawing the butterfly comb out of her hair. She shook her head and her hair fell around her shoulders. Now she felt free, no longer having to worry about her hair, just to let it run wild, even if society thought it made her look like a feral child. Maybe she was in some way...on the inside. After freeing herself from Cal in a metaphorical sense by throwing out her engagement ring, she immediately slipped into a purple kimono with yellow wildflowers on the side and locked the Heart of the Ocean around her neck. It felt heavy, but it was going to be worth it.

She walked gracefully and dramatically into the sitting room, where Jack, having taken his coat off, was sharpening his pen. He looked at Rose with mixed feelings, especially since he would be seeing her entire body exposed for the first time.

"The last thing I need," she said, approaching him. "Is another photograph of me looking like a porcelain doll. I need something unique. So as a paying customer..."

She handed him a barber dime.

"I expect to get what I want."

She stepped back, ready to make the big exposure. First, she parted the top of the kimono towards her shoulder and then it began to slip to the sides, revealing her breasts, then her bodice, her vagina and finally her legs and her toes, which she took out of the fallen kimono.

"Will standing do?" she asked.

"Do it on the couch," Jack instructed. "And lie down, you'll look sexy that way."

Rose, keeping her gaze away from Jack's stricken face, did so. She sat down on the couch, lying down like a cat with her arms sprawled above her head.

"Tell me when it looks right to you."

"Keep your arms like that," Jack snapped his fingers. "Bed your left leg a little, and lower your head. Eyes to me. Keep them on me. That's it. And try to stay still."

Drawing in a deep breath, he began.

First, he drew a single line, which later became a hand. Jack drew his eyes back and forth, spanning his attention every thirty seconds or so from Rose to his creation. His face looked forlorn and emotionless. Rose scrunched her face.

"So serious," she murmured in a deep voice.

Jack gave a little smile at this and proceeded to draw the rest of the arm.

He started to work on Rose's head, first a few strokes with the hair, and then with a few touches of the eyes, the nose and the mouth, her face was beginning to take shape. He drew the other side of her arm, filled in the hair and drew her lips, as if giving her black lipstick. Next he filled the area around her right arm and started to work on the Heart of the Ocean, filling in the color with a charcoal shade. Then, he made the fingers more detailed and recognizable to the untrained eye. Finally, he came to Rose's breasts and Rose could see a smirk on his face. She could tell there was something naughty on his mind.

"Is that a blush I see? Because I cannot imagine Monsieur Monet blushing."

"He does landscapes," Jack scolded her. "Now relax your face. And no laughing either."

Despite his nervousness, he drew the rest of the drawing with sure strokes, and what emerged was the best thing he had ever done. Her pose was languid, her hands beautiful, and her eyes radiated her energy. Rose's heart was pounding the entire time, for as of now, it was the most erotic moment of her life.

When he was finished, Rose slipped back into her kimono and saw it for herself. She was pleased. What he made was the best thing he had ever done. Her luminous eyes drew his attention first. Like La Giaconda she seemed about to smile. The diamond winked sardonically in a splash of light between her breasts. One arm lay bent across her breasts, hiding the nipples. Most of her lower body was lost in shadow... just a hip and a line of leg.

"Let's date it, Jack. I want to always remember this evening."

And he did..."4/14/1912".

Then Rose went to the bedroom nearby the safe, took off the necklace, and wrote a few choice words down on a piece of stationary.

"Put this in the safe for me, would you please?"

She handed the note to Jack, who smiled in amusement at the contents, and locked both the note, the necklace and the drawing back into the safe.

Said Rose as she looked into the door. "Now we'll go exploring and meet up with the others for dinner."

She held up Andrews' master key.

"Where did you get that?" asked Jack.

"Stole it from Mr. Andrews while he wasn't looking."

"Not every day you see a girl thief," joked Jack.

Together they left the room.

When dinner was over, Arthur Webster Newell, a banker from Lexington, Massachusetts, was introducing his two daughters Madeleine and Marjorie to the Astors in the reception room. You can imagine the surprise when both his daughter and Mrs. Astor found out they shared the same first name.

"Do you think you will be able to last until morning?" joked Mr. Newell concerning his daughter's healthy appetite.

Sitting next to Marjorie was Emily Ryerson, who asked out of the blue:

"Don't you think the ship is going too fast? We are in the icebergs and I think we should slow down."

Marjorie, unaware of the situation, had no idea what to say.

Back in the smoking room, Cal had spent the last few minutes listening to the tales of Archibald Gracie III's wartime experiences, told by his son no less. Bored, he paced around the fireplace, waiting for Lovejoy to hear back from Rose. As if he had gotten his wish by some subconscious nature, there he was, looking glum as usual.

"How is she feeling?"

"She wasn't in her room."

"Did you ask a steward?"

"None of the stewards have seen her."

"What about the other passengers?"

"They haven't either."

"Anyone?!" whispered Cal through gritted teeth.

Lovejoy just shook his head.

"This is absurd. There are only so many places she can be on a ship. Find her and bring her back to the cabin, when you do, lock her in the bedroom and make sure she doesn't try to leave."

Lovejoy's smile was just as wicked as Cal's.

"I'll see to that."

And he left for B-Deck. But by the time he got there, all he found was a cabin devoid of all life. But he did notice a sketchbook lying on the table. Lovejoy, curious, opened it up. He found the contents to be rather lurid, but charming, as far the dirtiest parts of his mind found them amusing. Had he had seen Rose's drawing, which was locked in the safe, he would have informed Cal that Jack had been there.

A change of watch was happening on the bridge at 8 o'clock sharp. Boxhall and Moody had just replaced Pitman and Lowe. Before retiring until his next shift, Pitman gave Boxhall a set of star sights that he and Lightoller used to calculate the ship's position.

"Here's a bunch of sights for you, old man. Go ahead."

In the wheelhouse, Quartermaster Hitchens was on standby, ready to take messages from the bridge. He took one look at the thermometer. The temperature was 31.5 degrees Fahrenheit and there was very little chance of the sea getting warmer by an inch. Within a few hours, the temperature would probably lower to 28 degrees.

It was a lot colder in the crow's nest when Archie Jewell and George Symons took over from Evans and Hogg.

"You can bet Captain Smith's having the time of his life with the upper class," muttered Jewell to Symons as they tried to keep themselves warm. "I could use a nice warm soup right about now."

Nearby, in the gymnasium, Jack and Rose had unlocked the door from the outside and were sneaking inside. It is dark, lit only by light coming through the arched window from a light on deck outside.

Rose gave a try on the electric camel. Jack turned it on, and it started to undulate suddenly. Rose squealed and falls off. He caught her just before her head hit the ground.

"You all right?"

"I wanna do it again."

"I think once was enough."

Then, feeling impulsive, Jack got on the electric camel. After seven swings, he fell off too. Together they rode the electric horse, pretending they were riding horseback on Santa Monica's beach. They raced the mechanical bikes (Rose won) and had a boxing match with the punching bag. Then it was time to go.

Meanwhile, in the A La Carte Restaurant below them, Captain Smith was attending a dinner party hosted by the Wideners. Ruth was there along with the Thayers, Mary Eloise Smith, Mahala Douglas, Major Butt, Harry Anderson, Mr. and Mrs. Carter and some of the other wealthier passengers onboard, with the exception of the Duff-Gordon's and Ismay, who was dining with Dr. O'Laughlin. Gaspare "Luigi" Gatti, the proprietor of the restaurant, proved to be a rather excellent host and the musicians were playing outside the corridor. Drinks were served to all and the excessive gaiety was much too good to last. Ruth could only wish that Rose was there with them, as she explained for the fourth time to Eleanor.

"Ruth, dear," she said. "Sometimes, we all have to think about what our children want. If even if Rose wasn't ill, I'm certain she would want to stay."

"Stay?" Ruth seemed confused.

"Yes. I'm not sure why, but I seemed to notice that she was very distant since she came on board and when she introduced us to that Dawson man, she looked very happy and energetic."

"I think she's in love with that boy, Mother," said Harry, having seen it in Rose's eyes himself. "Speaking of which. If Rose gets better in the morning, I would love to show her the first edition of Francis Bacon's essays."

"Nevertheless," said Ruth, the mere mention of Jack pushing one of her personal buttons. "Rose should understand that the mixing of social classes don't mix."

Major Butt spoke up.

"As an advisor to the President of the United States, I say that the working classes should find a voice in social circles. They are the backbone of my country after all. America also has so many opportunities for work that the ship has been able to carry more emigrants to American than ever before."

Ruth could only partially agree with Major Butt's words. Working for a living was one thing, but mixing with social classes was something she was desperate to avoid.

Away from the party, at other tables, were George Rosenshine, an ostrich feather dealer and his mistress Maybelle Thorne, looking on in envy, probably enough to ruffle their feathers if you'll pardon the pun. The table next to them was occupied by Maggie and Emma Bucknell.

"Shouldn't he be on the bridge?" whispered Emma to her friend. "I've heard rumors of ice and such."

"Nonsense, he often dines with First Class passengers," Maggie replied.

Fortunately, for Mrs. Bucknell, Captain Smith decided to leave the dinner party early, returning to the bridge by 8:55 to check on Titanic's approach to the ice. The shutters of the wheelhouse windows were closed to prevent the officer's night vision from ruin. Second Officer Lightoller was there. They stared out at the sheet of darkness the North Atlantic had become while Quartermaster Hitchens brought him a cup of tea with a lemon in it.

"In all my 24 years at sea, I don't think I’ve ever seen such a flat calm," Lightoller said softly.

"Looks like a millpond to me," said Smith. "Not a breath of wind."

"But all the same, it will make the bergs harder to see with no breaking water at the base."

Smith looked out at the horizon, then his tea, scooping out the lemon with a spoon as he thought about the ice warnings. To him, one was enough for all the officers to see and he was certain that by turning Titanic down south, he would be passing his ship through smaller begs that were so small and weak, the ship could easily run them over.

He looked back up and made his decision.

"I'd better get back to the party. Maintain speed and heading, Mr. Lightoller."

"Yes, sir."

"And wake me, of course, if anything becomes in the slightest degree doubtful."

"Will do, sir."

Dinner in Second Class was far from fancy, but the aroma of curried chicken and rice, roast turkey and boiled potatoes was enough to make the poorest man's mouth water. Poor Kate Buss was being teased by her dinner companions, because she asked Theo Brailey, the pianist, if she would "take round the subscription" the next day as she liked their music so much. Then she tried to persuade a young Scottish lad named Douglas Norman to do it for her and he agreed.

"Meet me on the upper deck at six in the morning," he said. "I will talk it over."

And what about our two lovebirds from two worlds? They had slipped into the elevator just as the other passengers were coming up the stairs from finishing their meals. They took the elevator all the way down to E-Deck and down the stairs to F-Deck where they came into the Turkish Bath. Jack thought it looked like a fantasy environment, nearly forgetting he was on a steamship in the middle of the North Atlantic.

As it was past seven for gentlemen, Rose again had to use the master key after seeing it was locked. Once they were in a stall, Rose turned a knob, and steam sprayed into the room. Soon it was a mysterious place of shadows and fog. Jack looked for her in the mist, and she dodged him. He came around an arched pillar and there she was, doing Salome's dance of the seven veils like Isadora Duncan. He walked up to her and they kissed in the steamy haze. But the fun didn't last very long, for at the moment the door opened and Walter Ennis, one of the Bath Attendants, stood silhouetted in the hallway light. Jack and Rose ran out the opposite door and up the stairs just as Mr. Ennis managed to catch a glimpse of this.

They arrived at the general room just in time to witness Daniel Buckley, one of Tommy's friends, dancing with Lillian Asplund while the ad-hoc band played an Irish jig. Alfred Rush was also celebrating his 17th birthday and he was looking forward to wearing long pants instead of the knickers he had grown accustomed to all his life. Jack offered his hand to Rose.

"Ready for another dance?" he asked in a gentlemanly way.

"Of course," Rose replied politely.

John and Annie Sage, watching from the benches, noticed them. There they were, Rose and Jack, dancing as they did the night before, proving them wrong. Pushing their embarrassment off to the side, John and Annie joined in on a slower dance with their children surrounding them like Broadway backup dancers.

But as they danced to another fun night of drinking, smoking, and probably a lot of other things that Ruth would probably faint over, Titanic received her eighth ice warning at 9:30 p.m.. The Atlantic Transport Liner Mesaba described an ice field "in Lat. 42 N. to 41.25 Lond 49 W to Long- 50.30 W saw much heavy pack ice and great number large icebergs also field ice. Weather good, clear." Phillips, exhausted, acknowledged the message, but did not pass it on to the bridge. Bride was asleep, and Phillips, hours behind on his work, was no navigator. He did not understand the implications of the six ice warnings that had passed through his hands today: A 78-mile band of ice floating further south than normal. Tragically, only one of these ice warnings had been posted prominently in the chartroom. No one capable of understanding Titanic's collision course, had seen all the information that could have lead her to avoid it.

Back in Third Class, after some heavy dancing and such, Rose and Jack were sharing drinks with Fabrizio and Helga, who was admiring Rose's dress.

"So beautiful," she grinned.

"I'd bet she'd like to be in your place, Rose," said Fabrizio. "You know, with the rest of First Class?"

"You wouldn't like it," Rose said, feeling a little smashed out of her gourd. "Up there, they expect you to be a delicate little flower. But no woman should be. We should work instead of sitting around and being decorative! And I'm going to show Cal and my mother that I deserve better! I'm gonna pay them out, by spending the rest of the voyage with Jack."

"Not unless you have any spare luggage," Jack told her. "You still have to change clothes."

"Right," Rose was starting to remember herself. "Do you have anything I could borrow, Helga? You know, a dress?"

"Two," Helga held two fingers up.

"Well, even so, I wouldn't mind. Clothes can be such a bother. Every day, you have to wear one for a certain point in the day. Afternoon wear, evening wear. And when I get off, I'm going to sew my own clothes. My mother would die if she became a seamstress, and Cal...she probably deserves her."

Before Rose could continue on, Jack noticed how fast she drank that beer and saw the empty cup. He prepared to take her outside.

"I think you've had enough beer for tonight, Rose. Let's get to bed."

"But I'm not sleepy!" she moaned.

"Yes you are."

"No I am not..."

And he dragged her out from the party.

In the Reading and Writing Room, Martha Eustis Stephenson was reading The Heart of the Atlantic by Ernest Shackleton, enamored by it's pictures of glaciers and icebergs, not knowing in some ironic sense that they were close to an ice field. Her sister Elizabeth was sitting by the open fire, trying to keep warm.

Back on B-Deck, Ismay returned from dinner and Ruth had just gotten back from the Widener's party, thinking about Eleanor's words. As she was changing into her nightgown, Ismay, noticing Rose's absence, decided to sleep it off in B-56, at least until she and Cal got back.

"Finally, this bedroom all to myself," he muttered as he got ready for bed.

He changed into his nightwear after Ruth went to sit alone in the sitting room, waiting for Rose. Lovejoy was already there, showing her the sketchbook.

"What do you make of this, Miss Ruth?"

Ruth opened up the sketchbook. She found some of them to be wonderful, but she cringed at the sight of Jack's nudes, which almost brought her to the fainting point. She suddenly remembered Jack's words at dinner, being an artist, drawing women with their clothes off, then turned up to Lovejoy and said.

"I think I know exactly who this belongs to."

Cal is going have a fit when he finds out that bohemian spirited my Rose away. 

Contrary to her stupor, Rose had managed to recover herself by the time they reached Jack's cabin. 

"I wish we could do it in my bed, but Cal's probably back by now."

"Even so," Jack reassured her. "Anywhere is better than up there."

He opened the door for her and she went in first. When Jack turned on the light, he just remembered something important.

"Uh-oh. I think I left the rest of my drawings back in your cabin."

"Don't bother," said Rose. "You can always draw more. Besides, at least Cal will think twice about his taste in art when he sees your entire portfolio."

Jack chuckled.

"Rose, I don't know whether to call you a fool or a genius. But either way...I'll always love you."

"And I'll always love you as well."

Even if it sounded cheesy, Rose seemed elated that they confessed their love for each other, so much that she practically dragged him into Jack's bed and they fell onto the mattress. He looked at her and she was smiling. It was the moment of truth for the both of them.

"Are you nervous?" Jack asked. "You know, about doing this?"

"Au contraire, mon cher."

He stroked her face, cherishing her while she kissed his artistic fingers.

"Put your arms around me, Jack. I am ready."

And they kissed like there was no tomorrow.

10:00 p.m., the sea southeast of the Grand Banks was calm. The cloudless, moonless sky was filled with stars and the temperature was 32 degrees Fahrenheit. Lookouts Frederick Fleet and Reginald Lee, taking over from George Symons and Archie Jewel in the crow's nest, prepared to watch for ice. Fleet on the port side, Lee on the starboard, the weather cover behind them doing little to shelter them from the bitter cold. They stamped their feet and swung their arms, trying to keep warm in the 22 knot freezing wind, which whipped vapors of their breath away behind.

"I can smell ice, you know," said Lee, even though his eyes were watering. "When it's near."

"You're full of bollocks," said Fleet in disbelief.

"Well, I can," Lee glared.

On the bridge, Murdoch got ready for his watch. As he looked out at the dark sea, he asked Lightoller:

"Did you ever find those binoculars for the lookouts?"

"I haven't seen them since Southampton," Lightoller shrugged. "I think Blair might have taken them."

Murdoch gave an angry sigh, but he wasn't too angry, seeing as how the calm sea pacified his mood. Even so, he was a little affected by the chill of the biting wind.

"When we get back, he's going to get a stern talking to," he muttered.

Lightoller chuckled at this and proceeded to leave.

"I'll be on my rounds, cheerio."

Relieved for the night, Lightoller would later recall his last movements before going to bed:

"Murdoch, the First Officer, took over from me in the ordinary way. I passed on the “items of interest” as we called them, course, speed, weather conditions, ice reports, wished him joy of his Watch, and went below. But first of all I had to do the rounds, and in a ship of that size it meant a mile or more of deck, not including a few hundred feet of ladders, staircases, etc."

Meanwhile, the lights in the Third Class common areas were extinguished, ending the party.

Also in Third Class, forward, G-Deck, Room 60, Fabrizio was just about to open the door, when he heard a moaning coming from inside...erotic moaning. He cracked a peek through the door and saw Jack on top of Rose. They were huddled under it, intertwined, stripped down to shorts. Their faces were flushed and they looked at each other wonderingly. She placed her hand on his face, as if making sure he was real.

When the Gundersens came up, Fabrizio was quick to turn around and shush them both. All three peaked through the door, barely making out what they said.

"You're trembling," Rose whispered.

"Don't worry," Jack was flushed. "I'll be fine."

He kissed Rose again and laid his right ear on her chest.

"I can feel your heart beating."

Well, Rose wasn't the first teenage girl to get seduced in the humble home of a boy she only knew for a three days, and certainly not the last by several million. But she knew it at that moment, that nothing that beautiful could be wrong.

Outside, Fabrizio and the others crept through the door. Rose and Jack pretended to be asleep, so as not to interrupt them while they undressed as well as avoiding a few awkward questions. Quickly, they went to sleep too.

Some passengers were not yet ready to go to sleep. By ten minutes after 10:00, the Harrises were in their stateroom playing their favorite card game, Double Canfield. Henry was perfectly happy, but Irene was perfectly miserable. Her arm was still broken and the room was so cold that she had to wear a bathrobe and a blanket.

At 10:55 p.m., Titanic received a message that Californian had stopped for the night, surrounded by ice. This was the ninth and final ice warning.

In the wireless room, Phillips was looking over a recently received message from the purser's office.

Looks like Mr. Thayer wants his private train to meet him. he thought. Bride's gonna be up all bloody night on this lot.

Then Phillips received the message, which was loud enough to hurt his ears.

"I say old man, we are stopped and surrounded by ice." 

Irritated, Phillips keyed a rebuttal.

"Shut up! Shut up! I am busy. I am working Cape Race!"

The outgoing message that Phillips was so intent on sending to the Marconi station at Cape Race was a trivial greeting, a wireless postcard about seasickness and poker playing. To be fair, he had not slept for two days and the message from Al did not even originate from Titanic. Phillips had received it from a German ship and was relaying it on the mainland.

Cyril Evans, Phillips' counterpart on the Californian, had spent some of his spare time listening to other ships transmissions, as well as jamming them. Earlier at 10:15, Californian's captain, Stanley Lord, noticed the lights of a ship approaching from the southeast. He asked Evans if he knew of anyone in the area.

"Only the Titanic," he told him.

The distant ship looked nothing like Titanic to Lord, but he still went ahead to send the warning. When Evans received Phillips' warning, he was very cross.

"Why that arrogant bastard!" he cried to Third Officer Charles Groves. "Here I am, warning him about the ice and he tells me to shut up!"

Groves, who had been spending some time with Evans to learn more about wireless communications, asked.

"What's he sending now?"

Evans listened.

"He's calling Cape Race again. He says: 'No seasickness. Poker business good. Al.'"

With Phillips’ rude rebuttal appearing to have worked, Evans shut off the wireless equipment and turned in for the night.

Back on Titanic, Cal was walking into B-52, not taking any notice of Ruth and Lovejoy. Before either of them could get a chance to speak to him. He went into B-54 and headed straight for the closet.

"Anything missing?" Lovejoy asked.

"Yes," said Cal. "I need to get some extra money for a bet. Sir Cosmo beat me in a poker game with Archie."

He opened up the safe, and what he saw made his eyes turn wide with shock and other mixed feelings. He found the drawing of Rose in the nude and read the initials "JD" on the bottom right. He knew exactly who drew this violation of his wife-to-be. He was even more furious when he saw the note attached to it.

"Darling, now you can keep us both locked in your safe. Rose."

Cal stormed out of the room and presented the drawing to both Lovejoy and Ruth. Ruth felt like fainting. Lovejoy seemed amused.

"How could she? After I had warned her..." quoth the raging Cal. He felt like tearing the drawing up.

"I swear, Ruth. That vagabond is going to rue THE VERY DAY HE STOLE MY BETROTHED AWAY FROM ME!!"

"Quiet!" snapped Ruth. "Mr. Ismay is asleep. You will still get Rose and your inheritance, but right now we need to think of a way to get that boy out of our hair until we reach New York and quick."

The plan immediately formed in Cal's head. He brought Ruth and Lovejoy into a circle.

"Here is what we will do. First, we'll bring them back, but one of us, the Wisconsin pauper, will be leaving for good."

A perfect April Sunday at sea had come to a close, Titanic was making good time, steaming westward at about 22 1/2 knots. Her engines pounded and howled deep within her hull. At about 26 miles per hour, she was running close to her top speed. Her propellers drove through the near freezing water at a reckless pace. Titanic was almost no margin for quick maneuvers, but the cold, dark ocean around the steam-driven wonder ship barely seemed to matter.

The concerts were finished, the hymn services in Second Class were over and the majority of the passengers were heading to their berths or already in their cabins asleep. Although running an ocean liner was a 24-hour operation, the schedule of polite society was still described in the maxim, "early to bed and early to rise." It was easier to keep passengers out of trouble during the day time, and the public rooms of the ship could be more effectively cleaned without extra people getting in the way. Stewards who met any of their passengers wandering around late at night would always encourage them to return to their cabins and go to sleep. But the First and Second Class Lounges and smoking rooms were allowed to remain open until 11:00 p.m.. On this night, the Chief Steward had given orders to let passengers remain in their places until midnight. He must have understood that those still awake were unwilling to let this particularly wonderful Sunday come to an end.

Others, however, were reading or unable to sleep for one reason or another. The First Class Lounge was hosting a bridge game with Dorothy Gibson, William T. Sloper and Frederick K. Seward. But the game had to be cut short, due to the fact that the lounge would be closing soon. A similar game was taking shape in the Café Parisian with Helen Candee and friends. The room was as cold as the upper decks, so they left for the electric heaters in their rooms. Dozens of men in the Smoking Room were also playing cards, as well as drinking, smoking and discussing politics, business and other topics that some at the dinner table would find unsuitable.

Although the Chief Steward allowed his staff to permit card games in the lounges and smoking rooms, White Star expressly forbade such activities on Sunday. This was not to penalize those passengers who wanted to play a friendly game of Hearts or Gin Rummy, but more likely to instill a sense of decency in the card sharps who travelled on ocean liners, playing high stakes games with the bored, gullible, and wealthy. The company preferred not to spend too much effort policing this situation. Instead, they fulfilled their moral obligation by printing the following warning at the beginning of the passenger list:

"The attention of the Managers has been called to the fact that certain persons, believed to be professional Gamblers, are in the habit of traveling to and fro in Atlantic steamships. In bringing this to the knowledge of Travelers, the Managers, while not wishing in the slightest degree to interfere with the freedom of action of Patrons of the White Star Line, desire to invite their assistance in discouraging Games of Chance, as being likely to afford these individuals special opportunities for taking unfair advantage of others."

Jack Thayer, hardly within range of the Smoking Room's crowd, retired for bed, but not before saying goodnight to his parents in the adjacent cabin. He opened up the port hole, preferring to sleep better with the night air blowing into his cabin.

"It was the kind of a night that made one feel glad to be alive," he said.

But Eleanor Cassebeer, complaining about the cold, had the heater in her cabin turned on. To make sure it was safe to leave it on overnight, she consulted her stewardess. Marguerite Frölicher was finally finding comfort in her own bed, relieved of seasickness. May Futrelle of Atlanta, Georgia was so engrossed in a good book, that she couldn't put it down. Maggie was also reading in her room, with a sock of snacks close by. She was wondering about how Jack was faring in his world, since she hadn't seem him at all since last night. Ismay slept peacefully in his bed, unaware that his roommates were plotting a dastardly scheme against a penniless artist.

Lawrence Beesley noticed that the vibration of the ship had increased considerably. He could feel the humming of the engines through the floor. In his berth, he noticed that the springs in his mattress were vibrating rapidly than usual. Lights were extinguished in Third Class cabins, but not all of them, of course. Eugene Daly was discussing with his cabinmates as to what they were going to do in America. Florence Thornycraft and her husband were wide awake because she was feeling seasick.

Back in First Class, Henry Stengel had gone to bed earlier. But no sooner had he gotten to sleep when he suffered a nightmare. His wife Annie, having heard his moans, woke him up. Jack Phillips was still sending out messages and Bride was still asleep. By this time, he was extremely exhausted. Quartermaster Rowe, stationed on the docking bridge, noticed tiny splinters of ice flying through the air. Violet Jessop, who had just ended her shift and was now taking a late night stroll on the boat deck, also noticed the whiskers. She thought of them as fairies playing in the air. Eventually, she returned to her cabin and recited a little prayer.

In the Dining Saloon, the kitchen staff were preparing the tables for breakfast, while in the kitchen, the cooks and chefs were making rolls and bread for the breakfast rush, specialty pastries being made to ensure they were extra fresh tomorrow morning. Down in the boiler rooms, the warmest place on the ship, Fred Barrett and fellow stoker George William Beauchamp were looking forward to their shift ending soon at midnight. John Shepherd and John Hesketh, two engineers on duty, circulated about the forward boiler rooms, inspecting the firemen and furnaces.

On the Boat Deck, in his cabin, Captain Smith was resting, smug and confident that his ship was in good hands. Lightoller was also in his cabin, sleeping until his next watch. Quartermaster Alfred Olliver was busy running messages and trimming the lights in the standby compass, making sure they would burn properly throughout the evening. Some of the men off-duty congregated in the Seaman's Mess under the forecastle, playing cards and joking while some of the off-duty stokers were making a racket in Scotland Road. The barber was relaxing in his shop, sleeping it off in one of his nice, comfortable chairs. Officers Murdoch, Boxhall and Moody were on watch, trying to warm themselves on the bridge. Thomas Andrews was also in his cabin, working at his dressing table. He was planning to go to sleep at around midnight.

From the black gang shoveling coal in the stoke-holds to the passengers sleeping in the cabins above them, all aboard Titanic felt safe within the grand machinery of Gilded Age progress.

And Jack Dawson and Rose DeWitt Bukater could have lived happily ever after...if it hadn't been for the iceberg.

Chapter Text

At 11:39, Lookout Frederick Fleet sighted an iceberg shaped like the rock of Gibraltar about less than a mile away. The exact size of it was about 150 to 200 feet. The berg might have been "blue" or "black" ice, meaning that it had become top-heavy and flipped over in the water, presenting its dark underside. By starlight, such an iceberg might well be invisible from a distance. Blue ice could often be recognized by the rank smell of thawing vegetation or marine life that had been frozen into its underside, as Lookout Reginald Lee had noticed such a smell after he and Fleet saw it.

"There is ice ahead," he whispered in disbelief.

In an instant, Fleet rang the warning bell three times and shifted to the starboard side of the crow's nest to get to the phone.

It was Moody who picked up the phone.

"Is someone there?" asked Fleet.

"Yes. What did you see?" Moody responded.

"Iceberg, right ahead!"

"Thank you!" he turned to Hitchens, adding. "Iceberg, dead ahead!"

Murdoch saw the berg for himself and shouted into the wheelhouse.

"Hard a-starboard!" he ordered Hitchens.

Even though he couldn't see the obstruction in front of him due to the wheelhouse windows being shuttered, Hitchens immediately turned the helm hard over, hoping to swing the stern to port, away from the berg.

On quick feet, Murdoch ran into the bridge and signaled the engine room telegraph to "Stop".

In the engine room, Engineer Bell was warming his soup on a stove when he noticed the indicator on "Stop". Without even knowing what was going on above, he yelled to crew: "ALL STOP!"

The engine room responded to the signal as quickly as they could, scrambling madly through the catwalks. They knew what was required of them. Any protocol for disaster would see to it that the most important task was to save the ship from further damage, which they would do by starting the pumps and venting the full head of steam. Their next step would have been to repair the initial damage, had any such thing been possible. 

In Boiler Room Six, Stoker Barrett reacted to the signal as well. Second Engineer James Hesketh took notice of the red warning light and the indicator on stop. He couldn't sense any danger, but Barrett did.

"Shut all dampers! Shut 'em!!"

At his command, everyone closed the dampers and tried to extinguish the steam. Back in the engine room, Engineer Bell had cut the flow of steam, stopping the engines. Everything came to a complete stop. The crew sighed in relief, hoping that whatever danger was above was over.

But in reality, it was far from over.

Fleet was impatient.

"Why aren't they turning?!"

Murdoch was looking for hope.

"Hard a-starboard, the helm is hard over!" Hitchens shouted from the wheelhouse.

Murdoch watched the burg growing...straight ahead. The bow finally started to make a turn for the left. His jaw clenched as the bow turned with agonizing slowness. He held his breath as the horrible physics played out.

Some nautical experts theorize that Titanic might have had a better chance if Murdoch had simply ordered full-speed ahead as the bow swung to port. The precise maneuver that he hoped to accomplish in such a tight space was out of the question with a vessel whose length was over one-sixth of a mile. To make matters worse, he couldn't understand that by stopping the engines, he had interrupted the flow of water across Titanic's rudder. This made the rudder much less useful for accurate steering at a time when the ship needed to turn immediately.

Suddenly, a seaman on the bow shouted "She's gonna hit!" and faster before anyone on the bridge could say "whoops", it happened.

The bow smashed into the ice that penetrated the steel hull plates. The iceberg bumped and scraped along the starboard side of the ship. Rivets popped as the steel plates of the hull flexed under the load. The sea started to pour into the cargo hold through six thin slits along the first five watertight compartments, some as narrow as a quarter inch. These slits were not hull punctures, but gaps between the plates that buckled when the iceberg's pressure pushed the rivets out of place. Combined, the damaged area was no more than 12 square feet - more than enough, though, to sink the ship in a matter of hours.

If there was any flaw in Titanic's system of watertight compartments, it was that the bulkheads at midships did not reach high enough. They only went as high as E-Deck. Her designers assumed that no compartment would ever flood completely enough for water to spill over the top into the next compartment. If the bulkheads had gone from floor to ceiling on the Orlop Deck, Titanic would have never sunk from the injuries that the iceberg inflicted.

However, some theorists suggested that the coal-bunker fire, smoldering three days before the stokers extinguished it the previous afternoon, had weakened the bulkhead between Boiler Room 6 (the fourth compartment) and Boiler Room 5 (the fifth). The partition, collapsing under the weight of the flood, would have spread the damage beyond what Titanic's safety features could handle, and so would have sealed her fate.

If she had been built with a double-hull, the pressure of the ship pushing against the iceberg would certainly have caused her some damage, and the extra layer of the steel plating might well have contained the flooding to a small, easily manageable area. She might have ridden unevenly in the water, but she would have been able to limp into port, losing only her dignity instead of (what would later be calculated as) 1,522 lives.

However, there was no chance that Harland and Wolff would have considered a safety measure this extensive. Titanic's single hull was 26,000 tons alone, about half her total displacement. As proven by the steamer Great Eastern in the previous century, double-hulled craft were incredibly slow. Although Titanic had not been designed to set any speed records, White Star wanted to be certain that that its elegant new liners could still cross the Atlantic in a week's time.

Even if she struck the berg head on, she would have sunk. An impact like that would have ruptured huge holes on either side of the forecastle and if the hull had been deformed too much, it would have compromised the watertight nature of the forward bulkheads, bringing her down a lot faster than what was to follow.

If she had only been designed with two propellers, she certainly would not have been doing as fast that night and the response time of her helm would also have been slower. Under the same circumstances, a twin-screwed ship could not have turned any more quickly to avoid an iceberg looming only a few thousand feet away.

If there had been moonlight, it might have reflected off the iceberg, making it more visible.

If there had been any wind, the lookouts might have seen waves breaking at the base of the iceberg, creating a line of white foam that would be visible in a dark sea.

If there had been a real atmospheric haze, or fog, or any heavier weather that limited visibility, it is possible that Captain Smith might have slowed the ship to a safer pace, increasing the chances of survival as Titanic entered the ice field.

And maybe if Jack Phillips asked Cyril Evans for Californian's position, and taken the information to the bridge, the collision could have been avoided altogether.

Sadly, no one will ever be really sure which maneuvers could have worked.

Lee and Fleet watched as the railing scraped off a shelf of the iceberg, and the ice came crashing down on the deck. Murdoch, Hitchens, Boxhall and Moody felt a strong vibration, it was coming from the berg itself. Quartermaster Olliver was just entering the bridge when he felt the collision too and saw the berg for himself, noting that it had a dark blue hue.

"Hard to port!" Murdoch shouted to the quartermaster.

Judging the berg to be amidships, he was trying to clear the stern.

To most of Titanic's passengers, the collision was no more than a faint shudder of the ship, a quick pause in the heartbeat of her engines.

"I still remember it as vividly as if it were yesterday," said Second Class passenger Edith Brown who was fifteen at the time. "I was in my cabin at the time when it struck the iceberg...asleep, but the vibration was so great when she struck, she was going so fast she struck the iceberg and was thrown back, she done it a second time and thrown back, third time she stopped. She couldn't stop before because she was going too fast. Being young, I didn't realize we might be drowned. You could see the ice for miles across the sea...nobody worried about it, some of the people, from the third class, came up playing with ice on deck and people in the first class, well they couldn't believe it. They said 'no, she's unsinkable' they went back to bed...I thought it was wonderful to see the ice like that, you know...I just wondered what happened like everybody else did, what happened to the boat and everybody kept saying, 'She's unsinkable, she won't go down, she's unsinkable'."

The passengers in the First Class Smoking Room on A-Deck felt the collision.

"There came a heavy grinding sort of a shock," Hugh Woolner described, "beginning far ahead of us in the bows and rapidly passing along the ship and away under our feet."

Passengers on the port side barely noticed the collision, as Eva Hart, also from Second Class, recalled years later:

"When my mother woke me up. I wasn't aware then what it was. She felt this little 'bump' as she always described it because we were a very long way away from it. We were on the port side of the ship and the collision was on the starboard side of the ship. And had she been asleep it wouldn't have awakened her. It didn't waken anybody else in the cabins round about there at all, but she was wide awake and she felt this bump and immediately wakened my father and he wasn't very pleased about this because she had awakened him the night before and made him go on deck because she'd heard something that she thought was untoward and that was the ice floes in the sea bumping against the side of the ship.…. And my father went away and spoke to one of the sailors and he came back and said, 'Oh, we've hit an iceberg'. Again my mother didn't say, 'Oh have we, or where...' she just said nothing. And he went away again and he came back and he said, 'Oh, I have spoken to one of the Officers. They're going to launch lifeboats, but you'll all be back on board for breakfast.'"

In her cabin, while reading, Margaret Brown felt like getting a drink of ice water when she felt the collision as well. She looked through the porthole, but it was too dark to see anything.

Virginia Clark could see it, though. From the porthole of her cabin, C-89, she described the following:

"The ship seemed to have come to a dead stop; but as I thrust my head out of the stateroom window, I noticed a huge white mass, like a mountain, slowly drifting by."

She ran into her bathroom and stood on the tub to get a closer look, but by the time she did, it was gone.

Chunks of ice fell through the open port hole of E-25, the cabin of James B. McGough, a buyer of Gimbels. He found this disturbing.

Gretchen Longley got the same treatment as well. She noticed ice crystals, which had come through a porthole, in the hall outside her room.

“It was just as though we went over about a thousand marbles," recalled a brave Ella White. "There was nothing terrifying about it at all.”

"I had been in bed for about an hour and the lights were all out, when I was awakened by a funny, rumbling noise," recalled Lady Duff-Gordon. "It was like nothing I had ever heard before. It seemed as if some giant hand had been playing bowls, rolling the great balls along. Then the boat stopped."

"And then," said Lawrence Beesley in his book, "as I read in the quietness of the night, broken only by the muffled sound that came to me through the ventilators of stewards talking and moving along the corridors, when nearly all the passengers were in their cabins, some asleep in bed, others undressing, and others only just down from the smoking-room and still discussing many things, there came what seemed to me nothing more than an extra heave of the engines and a more than usually obvious dancing motion of the mattress on which I sat. Nothing more than that--no sound of a crash or of anything else: no sense of shock, no jar that felt like one heavy body meeting another. And presently the same thing repeated with about the same intensity. The thought came to me that they must have still further increased the speed. And all this time the Titanic was being cut open by the iceberg and water was pouring in her side, and yet no evidence that would indicate such a disaster had been presented to us."

Ismay was slightly awakened by the collision, while Cal, Ruth and Lovejoy, having laid out their plot, took little notice of this, seeing as they were also on the port side.

Emma Sägesser, Madame Aubart's maid, went to see her employer, who was also in bed reading. They went up to Mr. Guggenheim's cabin to see what had happened along with Henry Etches.

Third Officer Pitman, sleeping in his cabin, thought the ship was coming to anchor. He met Second Officer Lightoller on deck, but with no sign of the iceberg, they returned to their cabins to await further orders.

In the dining room, the restaurant staff noticed a similar sound from the shaking of utensils. Thankfully, it wasn't too bad as it only slightly messed up the breakfast arraignments. It was a bit messy in the galley, however, when Chief Night Baker Walter Belford saw a pan of new rolls clattering off the oven and scattering to the floor.

"I think we've thrown a propeller blade," said Steward James Johnstone to his mates. "It happened to me once on the old Majestic." 

In the lower decks, it was worse...

Fabrizio was tossed in his bunk by the impact. He heard a sound like the greatly amplified squeal of a skate on ice. Rose and Jack woke up with a start. The Gundersens found the sound irritating and thought that the ship was running aground on some rocks.

Back in Boiler Room Six, Barrett and Hesketh staggered as they heard the rolling thunder of the collision. They saw the starboard side of the ship buckle in toward them and he and his fellow stokers were almost swept off their feet by a rush of water coming in about two feet above the floor.

As the water burst into the forward boilers, Murdoch ran into the bridge and threw the switch to close the watertight doors. The doors began to close, Barrett and Hesketh took notice of this and scrambled through the swirling water to the watertight door between Boiler Rooms 6 and 5. The room was full of water vapor as the cold sea struck the red hot furnaces. Barrett yelled "everybody out!" to the stokers from the other side scrambling through the door as it came down like a slow guillotine. These doors would close for 30 to 25 seconds, giving most, but not all of the stokers enough time to escape before gravity would kick in at the last 18 inches and seal the compartments.

To get around in the boiler rooms, the stokers would have to go down a small passage, flanked on by either side of the coal bunkers. Many of the stokers stayed put, regardless if their boiler room was flooding or not.

As the iceberg drifted away, Lee breathed a sigh of relief.

"I say that was a close shave, wasn't it?"

"Says the one who could smell ice," Fleet was indignant. "Have you even noticed what just happened?"

While Fleet was scolding his mate for not using his nose properly. Murdoch hoped that he would be able to save the ship, but he couldn't escape the feeling that he had just caused a great deal of detriment to Titanic's nearly-perfect record. As the warning bell rung, he told Moody to note the time.

"11:40, sir."

"And enter it in the log as well."

Moody left to find the log just as Captain Smith came in, wearing his vest.

"What was that, Mr. Murdoch, what have we struck?"

"Yes, we did, sir. It was an iceberg. I put a hard to starboard and stopped the engines but it was too close."

"Did you close the watertight doors?"

"The doors are closed, sir."

The ship was nearly slowing to a stop by the time he arrived, so Smith ordered "Half Speed Ahead" to Boxhall. Then, he along with Murdoch, Quartermaster Olliver and Boxhall went to the starboard corner of the bridge. Assessing the situation, he feared the worst.

"Find Hutchinson and get him to sound the ship."

"Yes, sir!" saluted Quartermaster Olliver.

And off he ran. Smith, after taking a moment to stare at the scattered ice on the well deck, turned back to see Boxhall following Olliver below decks. Then Smith saw Moody and ordered:

"Would you ask Mr. Andrews to come to the bridge with my compliments?"

"I will."

Save for a few passengers and crew, no one had a close view of the iceberg, since Captain Smith ordered Titanic to pull away immediately afterward.

Simultaneously, in the forward steerage cabins and bunks, Fabrizio and Tommy both noticed that the floors of their respective cabins were flooding. Fabrizio switched the light on, giving the Gundersens and Jack and Rose a full view of the soaked floor.

"How did this happen?!" he shrieked.

"I'll bet it was the hit," Jack said.

As soon as Fabrizio left the cabin, followed by Olaus and Bjorn, Rose and Jack took the opportunity to get dressed as quickly as they could. Out in the hallway, a family of rats ran by. Tommy met up with the others carrying a bag in his left hand and a suitcase in his right hand. Jack had just slipped into his shirt when he and Rose saw Tommy, Ara and Massimo.

"Come on, lads! We're getting out of here!"

And he urged the five to follow him. Jack frowned at the water soaking his shoes.

"This looks bad, Rose. I think we may be sinking. Let's follow Tommy and the others to see if we can get to dry ground."

By now, Rose was regretting her wish from two nights ago.

"We can follow them later. Right now, we should tell Mother and Cal."

Jack's face went pale. He couldn't tell if he was shivering from the coldness of the water or the fact that he was going to risk his love life getting in trouble with her demon of a fiancée. 

"Are you sure, Rose?"

"Absolutely. You did say you could handle Cal, couldn't you?"

Jack smiled.

"Yeah, I did. If he gives you any trouble, I'll pop him one."

After Rose finished getting dressed and threw her shoes on, they slogged their way through puddles of water back to the parlor suites.

Back in First Class, the Countess was already brushing her hair down when she felt the collision. At this time, it was 11:41. She walked into the corridor, hoping to find someone to share her troubles with, but found no one except for her steward Robert Spencer Allen.

"Mr. Allen, did you feel a shudder? I know I did."

"That I did, Madame. But I heard from the restaurant staff that we've likely thrown a propeller blade. That might have been the shudder you felt."

A quick pause.

"Can I bring you anything?"

"No thank you. I'd better get some sleep."

But even as she returned to her cabin, C-77, she was just about as sleepless as Mr. Andrews on the Boat Deck above her. He had been summoned to the bridge by Captain Smith, taking an armload of his plans with him.

In A-35, Helen Candee was keeping a solid finger on the push button. With a rush of his feet, her steward came to the call.

"There you are! I have been ringing and ringing. Why have we stropped?"

"Nothing has happened, ma'am."

"Then why are the engines not running? I don't hear them."

"I tell you nothing has happened. You better go to your room and go to bed."

Mrs. Candee tried to reason with him.

"Steward, I'm an old traveler and am not afraid, but I know something has happened. But I'll go to my room to make things easier for you."

In her bunk, Violet Jessop lay still and quiet, vowing never again to show any fear after a hysterical incident on another ship during a storm. As she listened to the sounds of the ship, Elizabeth Leather looked up from the bottom bunk and said calmly.

"Sounds as if something has happened."

Violet stifled a laugh at the understatement of the year.

At 11:42, Lawrence Beesley was also making his own investigation. He slipped into his shoes and dressing gown and went out into the corridor to speak to one of the stewards.

"Why have we stopped?" he asked.

"I don't know, sir," the steward replied. "But I don't suppose it is anything much."

"Well, I'm going on deck to see what it is."

The steward smiled indulgently.

"All right, sir, but it is mighty cold up there."

Beesley ran up the stairs feeling rather foolish. Upon opening the vestibule door after climbing the three flights of stairs, he could feel the cold cutting through his dressing gown.

On C-Deck, Jack Thayer was also going up to investigate.

"I'm going up on deck to see the fun!" he told his parents.

"I'll join you," his father said.

They found Milton Long and Dr. Washington Dodge on the forward end of the midships.

"Did I miss the fun?" John Jr. asked.

"No, we all missed it," Milton said solemnly. "Apparently, it hit over there."

And he pointed to the starboard side of the bow. Dr. Dodge returned to his cabin where his wife and son were waiting for news.

"Imagine, wouldn't something like this happen, when his nanny isn't with us?" Mrs. Dodge joked.

Emily Ryerson, also searching for answers, received satisfying results from her steward, Walter Bishop.

"There's talk of an iceberg, ma'am," he explained. "and they have stopped, not to run over it."

Businessman Elmer Taylor was knocking on the door of his business partner Fletcher Williams, the managing director of the British Mono-Service Company, which made hotel paper cups. He was sitting up in bed in his dressing gown, smoking a cigar and sipping on a highball. Taylor came in holding a piece of the iceberg.

"Well, Williams, we have struck an iceberg and I have brought you a piece of it in your highball, so here goes.

He tried putting it in, but the piece was much too big.

"Is there any cause for alarm?" Williams asked.

"This ship is unsinkable," Taylor said.

But naturally, some words like that are better left unsaid, considering how too soon it was.

Back in steerage, Fabrizio and Tommy were in a crowd of steerage men clogging the corridors, heading aft away from the flooding. Many of them were also carrying suitcases and duffel bags, some of which were soaked.

"If this is the direction the rats were runnin', it's good enough for me," Tommy joked.

Fabrizio seemed to be looking forward to heading aft, looking forward to seeing if Helga was all right.

In another part of the steerage quarters, Daniel Buckley had jumped out of his bunk to find it in water as well

"Get up!" he cried to his cabinmates. "Something's wrong! Water's coming in!"

But this only annoyed his mates.

"Get back to bed! You're not in Ireland, now!"

They all laughed. Buckley got dressed as quickly as he could. Because the cabin was so crammed, he left the room to give him some extra space to dress. None of his friends dared to move, but when two stewards came past, shouting "All up on deck, unless you want to get drowned!" they immediately changed their minds.

On B-Deck, Ismay was hurrying to the bridge to see what had happened. He noticed his bedroom steward Thomas Benjamin Kirkaldy speaking with Helene Baxter.

"Monsieur Kirkaldy, is something the matter? I felt a slight shudder."

"There is no cause for alarm, madam. Please return to your cabin."

No sooner had Ismay made his way up the Grand Staircase when Cal, Ruth and Lovejoy came out looking shocked and angry.

"Etches!" shouted Cal, stopping the steward. "Fetch the Master-At-Arms! We have been robbed!"

"Right away," and he took the stairs to E-Deck.

"Now all we have to do is bring Rose and that mendicant temper back here and finish the job."

"I of course, will stay outside and plant the necklace," Lovejoy said, holding the item in question.

Their plan was not concrete. They were planning on telling the Master-at-Arms that Jack and Rose lied to them and that he did indeed tried to rape her, but had blackmailed her into saying he saved her life just to shut her up. As repayment, they were having an affair behind his back and that he had stolen the necklace after drawing Rose without her noticing.

Below decks, Carpenter Hutchinson had discovered that Titanic was taking on water fast. The mail hold on the Orlop Deck was already flooding. Directly above it, the postal clerks were pulling mail from the racks and hauling wet bags up from below, racing the water that creeped up step by step.

On the bridge, Captain Smith was observing the commutator. In less than ten minutes, the ship had taken a five-degree list. Andrews came up with his plans, followed by John Maxwell.

"She's taking on water fast," he reported, out of breath and clearly unnerved, "in the forepeak tank and the forward holds, in boiler room six."

Ismay entered.

"Why have we stopped?"

"We've struck ice," said Captain Smith.

"Is she seriously damaged?" asked Mr. Ismay

"I hope not," said Smith. "But I'm expecting the worse."

"What do you mean?" asked Ismay again.

"We'll find out once we see the damage for ourselves," excused the Captain.

He pushed past Ismay, Andrews and Hutchinson following him. Ismay returned to his cabins to get dressed.

But he did not return in time to notice Jack and Rose heading towards their cabin as Lovejoy waited outside the corridor to pounce. As he watched Mr. King and the second Master-at-Arms, Henry Bailey searching the sitting room, he turned away for a moment, and noticed the two forbidden lovers. Now it was his time to pounce.

"We've been wondering where you were, Miss," he smiled falsely.

Of course they were. Rose said nothing, she just strode past Lovejoy, who quickly slipped the necklace into Jack's left coat pocket.

You can obviously tell that Ruth was very upset when she saw Rose coming in with Jack. She was quick to reprimand her...for the umpteenth time.

"Rose, I am very disappointed in you. Do you how I upset I was when I found out you brought him here? And the nerve of you, Mr. Dawson, drawing my own daughter in the nude like she was some kind of tramp-"

Rose rolled her eyes. She was reaching the boiling point of her anger.

"SHUT UP, MOTHER!"

Ruth stayed silent.

"We came to tell you that something serious has happened. The ship is sinking," finished Rose.

Cal chuckled boorishly.

"I find that very hard to believe, Rose. But you are right about one thing, something serious has happened. Two things dear to me have disappeared this evening. Now that one of them, you Rose, has returned. I don't suppose any one has any idea where to find the other?"

"What other?" Jack's eyes widened.

But instead of a straight answer, Cal turned to Bailey and King.

"Search him," he ordered.

"What is it this time?" Jack groaned.

The masters forcefully removed Jack's coat and did as Cal instructed them. It was Bailey who found the diamond.

"Is this it?"

"How did that get in there?" asked Jack.

"A thief's common answer," said Cal as he took the necklace back. "Mr. King, arrest him!"

And for the second time, Jack was cuffed by the Master-at-Arms for a complete misunderstanding, but Rose was willing to stand up to him.

"Jack couldn't have stolen it!" she shouted to Cal.

"Ooh, of course, he would, it's easy enough for a professional. He memorized the combination to the safe."

Rose remembered Jack looking over her when she opened up the safe. But that memory came crashing down with Jack's shout of "No, I didn't!"

Rose shook her head and looked back at Jack, then to Cal again.

"I was with him the whole time! He never took it."

"Or maybe, he did it while you were putting your clothes back on," said Cal lowly in Rose's left ear.

"Real slick of you, Cal," growled Jack. "I'll bet your manservant put it in my pocket!"

Cal slapped Jack's nose away. Rose tended to it while Lovejoy took a closer inspection on the coat's label.

"It's not even your pocket, Mr. Dawson. According to this tag, this just so happens to be the property of A. L. Ryerson."

He presented the coat to King, who read the tag for himself.

"That was reported stolen today."

"I just borrowed it so I could get in to see Rose. I was planning on returning it, honest!"

"Save it for the jury!" shouted Ruth. "I hope they lock you up for preying your eyes upon my daughter's modesty!"

Rose felt a strong urge to slap some sense into her mother, but she knew it wasn't worth it. She just shot a glare at both Ruth and Cal before turning back to Jack.

"I wouldn't consider that a major offense, madame," said Bailey. "But we'll keep him under close supervision for the remainder of the voyage."

"I don't think there will be," Jack rebuked. "The ship is sinking!"

"Even if she was flooding, the watertight doors will hold her," King reassured. "Now let's get you to the padded room."

They began to drag him away, with Lovejoy following them to make extra certain that he was going to stay where he was.

"Rose, you know I didn't do it! I would never steal anything from you! Don't believe them!"

Jack's cries were quickly silenced by a punch to the gut from Lovejoy. Rose sprinted forwards to go after him, but the evil man that she was doomed to marry forcefully held her back by the right arm. The three men and their prisoner left the sitting room and Ruth closed the door.

"What did you ever see in him?" she asked Rose.

Rose wasn't sure what to think, but she was certain that Jack would never lie, cheat or steal to get what he wanted. He was too open-minded for that.

"I thought that maybe, he was different from you two. That he actually understood me better. That unlike you Cal, he never made my life a complete misery. He knew what I wanted and he just gave it to me without question."

"I think he was trying to take advantage of your wealth, Rose," said Cal, releasing his grip on Rose's hand. "I warned you what would happen if I caught you with him, and now look what happens!"

"Well, I believe him!" cried Rose. "And it's not like they can just keep him there, we'll be a thousand leagues under if they think we're going anywhere."

Ruth shook her head, disappointed.

"Rose, I think scurrying with that riff-raff below decks has greatly effected your brain."

But no sooner had she said this when there came the muffled sound of a deafening roar from the outside.

By 11:49, over 1 million gallons of sea water had already entered the ship. Andrews was in the mail hold watching the sacks of mail floating all around. When the water touched his shoes, he immediately went back up to report the ship's condition. At 11:56, Captain Smith ordered the engines to stop. This would be the last time Titanic's engines would function. Once the crew learned of this, they had to shift their attention to the number of lives that were most likely in need of saving. Certainly there was no more need for speed. Bell and the other engineers halted her engine by shutting down her massive boilers. But powering these boilers full steam ahead was a strong force of steaming water vapor, much of which was still in the boilers after the fires were extinguished. The steam needed a release, so it was vented. Had the boilers continued to be lit, they would have exploded upon contact with the cold water.

Many of the passengers in First Class found it uncomfortable.

"The noise up there became too intense to endure," recalled Helen Candee. "Three of the four funnels were supplying the noise. They were blowing off steam."

After their inspection, Andrews and the Captain discussed things further in Andrews' cabin A-36, with Murdoch, Ismay and Hutchinson as witnesses. Young Frank Prentice also overheard their conversation.

"I happened to be up on the boat deck and I saw Thomas Andrews, the designer, Bruce Ismay, the chairman and Captain Smith, talking together. I heard Ismay say to Andrews: "What’s the position? Is there any news?" And Andrews said: "Well, sir, the position is that she’s going to sink. There’s nothing that can stop us sinking. The water’s just coming straight up. The bulkheads won’t help her in any way at all."

Wearily over the noise, Andrews drew his conclusion in his own words.

"From this moment, no matter what we will do, Titanic will founder."

Ismay was dumbstruck.

"Surely, she can't sink."

"She can't stay afloat either, Bruce," said Andrews. "She's made of steel and I assure you, she can and she will."

"How much time?" asked Captain Smith.

Andrews was silent for seven seconds, quickly calculating the time in his head.

"A hour to a hour and a half."

Captain Smith turned to his first officer.

"How many on board Mr. Murdoch?"

"2,200 souls onboard."

It was quite clear to everyone that unless help came soon, only half the passengers and crew would live to tell the tale.

At 11:59, Titanic coasted to her final stop, ready to begin a two and a half mile trip to the bottom of the sea.

Chapter Text

Things were tense in B-52 as the clock struck midnight on Monday, April 15th. After putting the Heart of the Ocean back into the safe, Cal was pacing back and forth while Rose watched. Obviously, he was trying to think of a good reprimand for her absence, while Ruth was getting dressed in the next room. The sudden roaring of the ventilating steam, muffled by the walls, increased Cal's fury. After two minutes of silence, Rose spoke.

"Cal, I’m sure you may not notice already, but there are bigger things happening than me and Jack. The ship might sink!"

"Do you think I care?!" roared Cal, marching up to her. “You turned against me! You let your body to be seen by someone other than me!"

A little quieter, he added.

"Before I can even stay in the same room with you, I need to know what was going through your mind when you deliberately disobeyed me and left me for some—some sewer rat!”

Rose looked away, muttering under her teeth.

"The only sewer rat here is you.”

But unfortunately for her, Cal heard her insult. He smacked her left cheek hard.

"Why you shameless little slut!"

He grabbed her hands, shaking her violently.

”I don’t know what to tell you, Cal. I don’t think you even deserve to know! But I can tell you one thing, Jack would never steal anything of value even if he was poorer than you.”

”You make it sound like our positions were switched,” Cal smiled in a sadistically evil way. “And even if he is innocent, where will you find your proof?”

Before Rose could think, there was a knock on the door.

"Mr. Hockley, Miss DeWitt Bukater?"

It was Kirkaldy.

"Get out! We're busy."

"Mr. Hockley, I didn't exactly mean to intrude, but-"

Cal was quick to cut him off.

"I said: Not. Now."

"But, sir, it's Captain's orders," Kirkaldy stated firmly. "You and the young lady may want to dress warmly. It's very cold out there."

"What exactly is going on?" Cal was now exasperated.

"The Captain wants us to come up to the Boat Deck and bring lifejackets."

Cal turned to Rose, who gave a triumphant smile.

"Looks like I was right after all."

But Cal just sighed.

"This is just ridiculous."

"And I don't suppose it would matter to you if I said we were in danger," Rose snapped back.

He stormed out onto the private promenade for a whiff of fresh air, hoping to clear his mind, leaving Rose alone with Kirkaldy.

"I'm sure it's just a precaution, Miss. No need to worry."

Rose, who was sitting in the chair by the table, gave a sad sigh. Kirkaldy tried to sympathize with her.

"Is there something you'd like to say?"

"There is plenty I would like to say," said Rose. "but I don't wish to start a panic."

Meanwhile, the rest of Titanic's passengers were starting to become aware that all was not well.

"I got dressed and went up on the deck where I found several people, for the most part men who were going and coming," said Marie Jerwan in a letter to her sister, "and again an officer told me: 'That there was no danger, that one could go back to bed'. Instead of that, I went up on the deck and went all the way to the front, where I saw sailors getting into boats at the top of the deck. From that time I was certain of our hazardous position. For a minute, I felt faint, but soon, I regained my composure."

Nellie Becker was also reassured from her steward that there was no danger, but Edwina "Winnie" Troutt was quick to inform her friends of the danger.

"I saw them lower one lifeboat with no one in it and noticed the men were also uncovering another," she recalled. "I then realized that something was the matter, I at once went to the staterooms of all my friends and told them to dress in case we were called up."

Fleet and Lee, having been relieved from the crow's nest at 12:02, were met by George Hogg and Alfred Evans on C-Deck. With them were a group of greasers and firemen who had been forced up to this part of the ship due to the flooding of their quarters.

Meanwhile, down below in the stokeholds, oil lamps were brought in to provide light for the stokers trying to shut down the boilers. In the baker's Chief Baker Charles Joughin  kicked open the door.

"Wake up, lads! We're sinking!"

He grabbed a bottle of whiskey from under his bunk mattress and had a slug as the others rushed out into the corridor.

Outside on the boat deck, the twenty nine boilers were continuing to vent their full head of steam, which Lawrence Beesley described as twenty locomotives blowing off steam in a low key. Over this thundering roar, Captain Smith addressed his officers and crew and ordered the lifeboats uncovered. Crew and passengers mustered and lifejackets were distributed to all.

Titanic was well stocked with lifejackets for passengers and crew of all classes and ranks. Made of canvas with squares of cork sewn into them with each side having six pieces, these flotation devices were ungainly to wear, but they did their job well. Some initially refused to wear it.

A ship as large as Titanic required a crew of 944, a bigger crew than most. She sailed with about 900 of those positions filled. While many of Titanic's crew came from Olympic, the only other liner of this type, some came from the Oceanic and Majestic, which were sitting their berths back home in Southampton waiting to be refueled in the aftermath of the coal strike. Many more were Southampton residents who had been unemployed for weeks and were eager for any work. There is no question that Titanic's size and complexity led to some confusion about locations and procedures.

As a result of this, along with Captain Smith cancelling the lifeboat drill in the afternoon, many of the seamen were unfamiliar with the new Welin davits that held Titanic's boats. The officers had to shout or use hand signals to work around the confusion. Andrews was looking around, watching the crew fumble with the davits, and the tackle for the "falls"... the ropes which were used to lower the boats. A few passengers were coming out on deck, hesitantly in the noise and bitter cold.

Norman Chambers, one of the First Class passengers, took a curious look at the following scene:

"We then ascended to the boat deck by the outside port companion and found no passengers on this side of the ship, although the crew were busy clearing away the forward group of lifeboats. At this time it was utterly impossible to hear any spoken word as the sound of exhausting steam which had appeared to us to be coming from the bow of the ship, was in reality from the forward exhaust pipe, and was well-nigh deafening. Thinking that perhaps the lifeboats would lower more easily from the starboard side, to which the ship was now listing more noticeably, we passed over the raised central deck and down on the starboard side. Here we found a number of passengers assembled and, joining them, stood and waited for orders."

A few other passengers, Constance Willard, Caroline Bonnell, her Aunt Elizabeth, Dickinson H. Bishop and his wife Helen came up to the boat deck as well, but on opposite sides to watch the lifeboats being swung out. They even claimed to have seen more passengers on the deck.

"When I reached the deck after the collision," said Miss Willard. "The crew were getting the boats ready to lower, and many of the women were running about looking for their husbands and children."

In the wireless room, Harold Bride was up and about when Captain Smith came in.

"You had better get assistance," he said.

And he wrote the coordinates 41^o44'N, 50^o24'W on a parchment of paper. Earlier during the inspection, Captain Smith had instructed the operators to get ready to send out a distress call...but not to send it until he told them. Now he was handing Phillips the coordinates.

"Send the call for assistance," he ordered.

"What call should I send?" Phillips asked.

"The regulation international call for help. Just that," said the captain. "And tell whoever responds that we are going down by the head."

The captain left and by 12:25, Phillips began sending out C.Q.D..

"EVERYBODY UP! LIFEBELTS ON!"

Bernice woke up with a groan, Bert rubbed his eyes and Cora woke up without so much as a "hm?"

"What's he on about?" groaned Bert.

The Third Class stewards woke their charges by banging open doors, switching on lights and shouting at the passengers. Although this might seem like harsh treatment compared to the way in which First and Second Class passengers were informed (via a gentle knock on the door), the stewards acted out of urgency. There were far more steerage cabins, more people to mobilize and not enough time as the lower decks were already flooding. Some of them, like Anna Sofia Turja, a Finnish woman on her way to Ohio, couldn't even understand English. There was simply no time to be polite.

At 12:27, Phillips heard from the North German Lloyd steamer Frankfurt, which was sailing eastward from Galveston, Texas to the German port of Bremerhaven. He assumed that she was the first to respond to his C.Q.D. call. In fact, Frankfurt's wireless man, W. Zippel, had not yet heard any of Phillips' messages. It had been a quiet night, and Zippel was merely making his own routine C.Q. call, perhaps his last before retiring. (A C.Q. call is a general check-up—a call for any ship in the vicinity to contact the sender.) Phillips, on hearing Zippel's signal, sent back what he believed at the time to be Titanic's correct position, also asking for the Frankfurt's position. Since there was no hint of emergency, Zippel assumed that he and Phillips were having a routine exchange. It took him 6 minutes to return with the coordinates, possibly because it was so close to midnight that the watch officers were still calculating their latest sightings. When he sent them to Titanic's, Phillips immediately wanted to know if Frankfurt was coming to their assistance. Zippel asked what was wrong, and then Phillips lost his temper. "Y.A.A.F.", he tapped back, Marconi shorthand for "You are a fool!" He had no idea that Zippel had been off the air all this time. Neither was he aware that the Frankfurt's wireless man had not heard Titanic's corrected position. Because the signal was weakening due in part to generator problems on the sinking liner, the Frankfurt's Captain Hattorff ended up sailing to the rescue at the incorrect position. The 12-year-old, 7,431-ton steamer had only a single propeller, which normally gave her a speed of 12 knots. Hattorff was able to push it to thirteen and a half...but even so, they would get there too late.

But luckily for the passengers and crew, help would be coming at a much closer distance, with a new position.

At about 12:35, Fourth Officer Boxhall was recalculating Titanic's position based on the stars. Jupiter could be seen in the far distance. The position was delivered to the chart room. With this new information, Phillips retransmitted the distress calls.

58 miles away was Carpathia, a 13,600-ton passenger ship owned by the Cunard Line. At noon, three days ago, shortly after Titanic left Queenstown, she steamed out of New York City's Pier 54 carrying a total of 1,065 passengers and crew toward the Mediterranean port of Gibraltar. Aboard her, Wireless Operator Harold Cottam was idly fixing up his headset one last time before going to bed. By chance, he heard Titanic's distress signal C.Q.D. at around 12:37. The message read:

"Come at once. We have struck a berg. It's a C.Q.D. O.M. Position 41.46 N. 50.14 W."

From that moment, there was no further thought of sleeping. Cottam responded instantly, requesting the ship's position and then ran for the bridge to tell First Officer Horace Dean what he had just heard.

"Bloody Christ Cottam, have you gone bloody spare!?"

After explaining the situation, Dean rushed into the stateroom of Carpathia's captain Arthur H. Rostron.

"Sir! Wake up! It's urgent!"

"What is it? Cottam, what in hell is going on?"

Cottam's hand shook as he handed the scribbled Marconi message to Rostron. His voice is full of awe and bordering on religious.

"It's the Titanic."

Rostron immediately got dressed.

Naturally, Titanic was not alone during these early hours.

Around 12:30 a.m., the call was picked up by the Canadian Pacific Line's Mount Temple and the Russian Asiatic's Birma, both of whom passed it along to outlying ships. Others in the area were Almerian, Saturnia, Bruce, Campanello, Dora, Dorothy Baird, Etonian, Memphian, Parisian, Paula, Pisa, Premier, President Lincoln and Trautenfels. Asian would have helped, had she not already been towing the disabled tanker Deutschland to Halifax. The Hamburg America Line's Yipiranga also heard the call, but it was too far away. Even further to the west was Olympic. Her own wireless operators, Ernest James Moore and Alec Bagot heard the call and informed Captain Herbert Haddock of his sister ship's situation. They rushed to the scene as fast as they could. The Marconi Company's land station at Cape Race, Newfoundland heard the news directly from Titanic and relayed the message inland. The news eventually travelled to New York.

As Titanic took on water, the damage was spreading rapidly. The bulkhead between compartments 5 and 6, its surface damaged by three days of smoldering heat from the fire, was collapsing on the bow near E-Deck, spilling sea-water from flooded Third Class cabins into the crew quarters.

"When I left my room the water was on my deck, coming along the corridor," described Laura Francatelli, Lady Duff-Gordon's secretary. "We were 20 feet above the water level, so we had already sunk 20 feet, but of course I did not realise this till afterwards. Everybody I passed assured me, I was safe, but to my terrible surprise, I found all the people running up and down the stairs."

But both Masters-at-Arms did not take notice of this, for they, Jack and Lovejoy were almost to the padded room, which was on C-Deck near the hospital. The man was locking the door when Second Class Steward Thomas Jenner came rushing up. He looked winded.

"Excuse me, sirs. We've got a mob at the Second Class purser's office. It's urgent."

"You two go on," said Lovejoy. "I'll keep an eye on Mr. Dawson."

"You do that."

"The ship is sinking!" Jack protested for the third time on the way down. "And if you'll let me go, I can tell you what really happened."

Lovejoy smacked the back of his head.

"A predictable choice of words from a madman."

King, looking doubtful for a bit, presented a small silver key to Lovejoy.

"If what he says is true, you know what to do."

Lovejoy couldn't help but taunt him. He did so as soon as the Master-at-Arms was out of earshot.

"You know, I do believe this ship may sink. And don't bother screaming your head off. Nobody will believe you."

And he left, leaving Jack to do the opposite of his instructions.

Meanwhile...

Following their steward's hurried orders, Third Class passengers prepared for evacuation. But much to their disbelief, they found out that they had to wait to reach the deck. Tommy, Ara, Massimo and Fabrizio's group had managed to reach the stern to E-Deck where they found the Sage and Goodwin families standing before Chief Third Class Steward James William Kiernan, who was blocking their way to the stairway that led to the upper deck. He was assisted by fellow steward William Denton Cox. They were arguing with the Goodwin family's steward John Hart.

"But shouldn't we let the women and children through first?" he asked Kiernan.

"It isn't time for any of us to go up to the boats yet, now remain calm and see to it that your charges get lifebelts on."

"We already have them on!" shouted Fred Goodwin over the din of chattering passengers.

As he tried to reason with the stewards, Charles tugged on his mother's dress.

"Why aren't they letting us through, Mummy?"

"We're just waiting dear," Augusta reassured him. "Once they've finished putting the First and Second Class people in the boats, we'll be next."

"I hope so," said Lillian, feeling a little scared. "Because I think the ship is tilting."

Augusta clutched baby Sidney close to her breast, feeling it as well.

Bertram and Millvina Dean and their parents were lucky to find some way to the Boat Deck while others were met with unfortunate fates through these five factors:

1. Language. The most basic obstacle was that at least one third of those traveling in Steerage did not speak English. They could not understand what stewards were telling them. They were unable to read the signs. The White Star Line had only one German translator aboard Titanic, and while he may have spoken other languages as well, most of these passengers were virtually on their own during an emergency.

2. Watertight doors closing. Whether automatically triggered by flooding or closed at the hands of overzealous crew members, the watertight doors on F and G Decks turned familiar passages into a series of dead end compartments. The only way to get past them was to climb up one stairwell to E Deck and then go back down another one.

3. Locked gates. Because the passengers gathering in the Third Class General Room and Smoke Room seemed to present all the ingredients for a panic, stewards locked the entrance gates from the Aft Well Deck until they received instructions from the chief steward or an officer. Needless to say, procedure became increasingly irrelevant. The gates (which were waist high) were never unlocked.

"The stairway was closed," remembered Anna Sjoblom. "It seems that those in charge were sure that the ship would be saved, and I suppose did not think it best to have more people above than necessary."

4. Unfamiliar territory. For those Third Class passengers who tried to reach the Boat Deck on their own, they were left to navigate through parts of the ship into which they had never been allowed. There were several ways to the top, such as an open emergency door onto the Second Class Stairway, but no one was there to give directions.

5. Neglect. If Titanic's crew was guilty of any crime toward the Third Class passengers, it was neglect. With so many passengers to save and with not enough space in the lifeboats, perhaps it may have been easier for the crew to forget those who were not already on the Boat Deck, waiting their turn.

Back on the Boat Deck, Mr. Andrews was looking around for any sign of the passengers. He found several groups watching the last lifeboats being uncovered and swung out. Figuring that the noise and the cold were too much for them, he decided to look inside.

When he got to the First Class entrance, Mr. Andrews was amazed that the passengers were not sharing his sense of urgency. Some were listening to the band in the lounge, others were reading last night's edition of The Atlantic Daily Bulletin and some were just having a party like there was no tomorrow (which it was for some people). In fact no one considered what turned out to be the inevitable: that the ship was sinking.

Between the polite reassurance of the crew, the happy music of the orchestra, and an overall sense of invulnerability, many passengers didn't even consider that Titanic was in danger. Her sheer size alone made her feel as secure as any solid-ground hotel. And the distance between the water-free upper decks and the flooding lower decks prevented First and Second Class passengers from witnessing any of the damage that occurred. Most were willing to assume that the ship had stopped because of a minor engineering problem...she would surely be repaired in a few hours.

One steward, Arthur Lewis had to deal with many passengers who couldn't comprehend that their ship was actually sinking.

"It was 1 o'clock in the morning and I was in my cabin asleep when one of the head stewards came in and woke me up. He told me if I wanted to see anyone else alive I would have to get up because the ship was sinking. I got up and put a few, a few bits of clothes on and went up to the working alleyway. I went from there to the bow of the ship and when I got up to the bow of the ship the water and the ice was coming over the gunnels. I stood there for a little while and said a prayer. I left there and made my way up to the promenade deck where I saw three ladies arm in arm walking up and down. I said to them, I says, ‘You come along with me, I said, the ships sinking and we’ll go up and see if there’s any lifeboats left’. She said, ‘We’re, alright Steward, the ship can’t sink, we don’t want to go down in one of those little boats’. I left them and went up to the boat deck and I saw one lifeboat left in the corner."

Back at the Grand Staircase, by the bottom of the A-Deck foyer, Richard Burke came up to Andrews with two glasses of brandy in goblets.

"Care for a drink, sir?" he asked.

"No, thank you," rebutted Andrews.

He was turning his head at the many faces of souls who were acting like nothing wrong was going on. Myra Harper was still dressed in her dinner gown, a pearl necklace (a gift from her mother) adorning her neck. She was sitting in a chair with her husband Henry. Their guide Hammad Hassab was nearby, looking after their pet Pekinese Sun Yat-Sen. Thornton Davidson was chatting with Charles Hays. Dorothy Gibson was helping her mother put on her lifebelt, Douglas Spedden was holding Polar as his parents, his nurse and their maid made their way up the stairs to the starboard Boat Deck and Alice Cleaver, holding Trevor in her arms, was looking for her employer, but couldn't find him. As she left for Second Class to fetch the other Allison servants, Margaret Brown tapped the right shoulder of Chief Steward Latimer. Andrews continued looking around the magnificent room, which he knew was doomed, along with many of these people. With its lights bright, and the music playing, the opulent architecture... it was hard to imagine it would soon be sitting on the seafloor.

"Excuse me," she said, speaking over the muffled roar of the venting steam. "What are we supposed to be doing, sonny? You've got us dancing a jig here."

"I only know as much as you do, madam."

Latimer left. Then came Cal and his party, followed by their maids and the Thayer family with Milton Long lapping behind. He had Rose wear a light pink coat that he himself bought for her, which he later admitted thought it would make her look like a pink rose. Rose thought it too girly despite Cal's objections.

"Didn't know it was a party," chuckled Dorothy Gibson.

Ruth, meanwhile, was complaining.

"This whole thing is a waste of time," she turned to Theresa, adding. "Go back and turn the heaters on in our rooms. I would like a cup of tea when I return."

Before they could, Rose was quick to stop them by using her left arm as some kind of a foreign border gate.

"You don't have to, you know. We're not going back at all. The ship is sinking."

"You must be tired, Miss Rose." Theresa said, snootily. "Everyone knows this ship can't sink."

But the Thayers heard Rose and exchanged some confused glances. Margaret Fleming, the Thayer's maid, turned to Marian.

"May I go back and turn the heaters back on in the cabins as well, ma'am?"

"No, Miss Fleming," Marian assured her in a worried voice. "Stay with me, I could use some company."

Rose looked over Theresa's right shoulder and spotted Mr. Andrews.

"The ship is sinking, and I can prove it."

She walked over to him and brought him to the group.

"Mr. Andrews, I saw the flooding in the lower decks. Please tell us the truth...will the bulkheads hold?"

"You can tell us if you want to," suggested Mr. Thayer. "We're not the panicking kind."

Andrews wasted no time in informing Rose and her bunch the honest truth.

"Make sure you keep the news only to your loved ones but the ship is sinking, I do not give the ship much over an hour to live. By then, all of this, all that we have worked so hard to create....will be at the bottom of the Atlantic. Please, everyone, tell only who you must, I don't want to be responsible for a panic. And get to a boat quickly. Don't wait."

And he left for the Promenade Deck.

Rose stood there, disturbed by his words, not sure of what to think. Given Jack's survivability rate, she felt like wanting to stay on the ship just to die with him. The others, especially Cal, seemed unperturbed. 

"I must say," he chuckled pompously. "That you looked positively radiant in that drawing. But it's a pity I didn't take it with me, maybe it will be worth a lot more by morning along with that scoundrel of an artist."

Snapped out of her trance, Rose's eyes flashed with anger. She spun over to Cal, trying her best not to make a scene in front of everyone.

"You really are an unimaginable bastard, do you know that?" she seethed. "He's more of a gentleman than you'll ever be and unlike you, he has shown me what true love is. All you ever think about in terms of love is using me as a tool for your inheritance. Thief or not, he deserves a chance to live in comparison with you."

Cal frowned. Marian started to make her way up the stairs, John Jr. gave his father a worried look and the maids stayed quiet, waiting to head upstairs. Ruth, however, was as indifferent as usual. It looked as if Mr. Andrews' words did not penetrate her fortress of snobbery in any way.

”Well, I just hope the lifeboats will be seated according to class,” snorted Ruth. “I refuse to share a seat with any prostitutes or paupers.”

Rose could not believe her mother’s words. As Ruth started up the Grand Staircase, Rose called out.

”Mother, how can you be so callous?! Their lives are just about as important as yours!”

”What do I care?” Ruth huffed indignantly. “If I didn’t know any better, I would assume you preferred them over me.”

”Well maybe I do. Ever since Father died, you have been acting about as if you were a queen, but you’re not. Because the money’s gone, you and I are just as common as those who you condemn as inferior. And I am sick and tired of you trying to crush my dreams instead of supporting them.”

Everyone who heard Rose was shocked. Maggie smiled over the fact that she and Ruth were now even. Marian stared at Ruth as though she committed a serious crime. Up until now, the debts that Ruth's husband had left behind were kept a complete secret from everyone in their inner circle.

"Is this true?" she asked. "That you're...bankrupt?"

Before Ruth could mutter a single syllable, Rose was the first to raise her voice.

"Of course we are. The only reason we’ve been keeping up appearances is because Cal had been supporting us with his father’s earnings."

Ruth tried to placate her.

"Rose, do try to be practical-"

But it was no avail.

"I am done being practical, I am through being polite, I have had enough of being stuck in your gilded cage, and I am going to find Jack and this time you are not going to stop me!"

She turned on her heels, following in the direction of Mr. Andrews, but she reckoned without Cal grabbing her forcefully by the arm.

"Do you really think it's worth it?! Leaving of all this to be a whore to a gutter rat?!"

"I would rather be his whore than your wife, because you Caledon Hockley are the most pathetic human being I have ever met in my entire life and I will hate you until the day I die!"

What happened next, was the most cathartic moment for Rose. She spat in Cal's right eye, punched his nose, threw her right foot at the family jewels and stomped her left foot on his right shoe. Groaning in pain, Cal collapsed to the floor on his back. Everyone present gasped or paid no to little attention at all. Maggie clapped. Ruth rushed down the stairs to confront her wild daughter.

"Rose, have you gone insane?!"

"Not at all, Mother," said Rose in a calm, stable voice. "I was just doing something that I should have done a long time ago. Now if you'll pardon me, Jack needs my help."

Off she ran, right outside towards the Promenade Deck where Mr. Andrews was.

"Rose, come back!"

She prepared to run after her, but Maggie held her back.

"Let her go, Ruth. Maybe it's time she started following her heart for a change instead of somebody else's. It was the same with my daughter. At least I knew how to let her go."

Maggie's words penetrated right through Ruth's stubborn soul as she watched Rose disappear for what seemed to have been the last time.

"But what if she doesn't come back?" she faltered, partly to Mrs. Brown.

"I'm sure she'll be along," Maggie reassured her. "Right now, let's get you into a boat."

"Whatever boat you're taking," Marian sneered at Ruth as she and Maggie made her way up the Grand Staircase. "I am not sharing a seat with an absolute liar like you."

Now Ruth was starting to feel what it was like being in Maggie's place.

Trudy and Theresa were also worried as well. Would any of them ever see Rose again?

Rose caught Mr. Andrews instructing Stewardess Annie Robinson to put on her lifejacket and set a good example with the passengers, then she rushed off to find the other stewardesses, perhaps either Violet Jessop or May Sloan.

"Mr. Andrews!"

He turned in time to see Rose.

"Listen, Jack's been framed and I need to know where the Master-at-Arms would put somebody under arrest."

"Jack? Framed?" Andrews was confused.

"It's a long story," was all Rose had to say.

"Well, even so," Mr. Andrews said. "There might not be enough time. You have to get to a boat right away."

"I am going to do this with or without your help," Rose said sternly. "But without it, it'll take me longer."

Andrews knew he had no other choice. Quickly, he gave the instructions.

"Go to the very end of C-Deck, head to the starboard side to the hospital, down the stairs and you will find the padded room."

"Thank you!" Rose hugged him and left.

She was no further than a few feet away when Andrews asked.

"And Rose? Please return my key when you're done with it."

Rose nodded and sprinted off. Four seconds later, he turned and went aft to help with the other passengers.

Cal recovered thanks to Lovejoy slapping his face lightly. The first thing on his mind was the first thing he asked:

"Where is Rose?"

"I did not see her, sir."

"Well, we have to find to find her," he looked around. "Ruth has already left." 

So they split up, each one going down a corridor, Cal on the left, Lovejoy on the right.

Aboard Carpathia, Wireless Operator Cottam learned that Titanic was only 58 miles away. He told Captain Rostron, who was now dressed and on the bridge, ready for action. Rostron instantly ordered Carpathia's crew to change course. As he issued a detailed list of commands, to prepare his crew for a full speed run and a sea rescue, Cottam was already back in the wireless room, tapping out a simple message to Titanic:

"Coming hard."

When he was not carrying information back and forth, Cottam stayed glued to his earphones, sending nothing more after that announcement. Despite the increasing cold as the ship raced north, he spent the rest of the night in his shirtsleeves, so preoccupied with his task that he never bothered to put on his jacket again.

Back onboard, Fourth Officer Boxhall heard the sound of the lookout's bell and returned to the bridge. He scanned the horizon with a pair of watch glasses. Soon, he picked out the lights of what looked like a steamer, half-a-point on the port bow. Boxhall, relieved, quickly reported to Captain Smith, asking if he could send up rockets. Smith agreed. Many of the others, including Ruth and Maggie saw the lights in the distance as well and were convinced that help was on the way.

The so-called "mystery ship" may have been the Samson, a Norwegian vessel whose captain chose not to get involved because he was allegedly seal hunting—illegally.

John and Madeleine Astor waited in the gymnasium, taking shelter from the cold. Madeleine was understandably reluctant to wear one, so John was opening a portion of his own lifejacket with a small knife to see how it worked. Around them, their fellow passengers were trying out the machines. Hugh Woolner came up to Mr. McCawley, asking him if he would wear a lifejacket incase he fell overboard in one of the boats.

"I won't wear one, sir," McCawley was saying to Mr. Woolner. "It'll just slow me down, impede my stroke."

"Right you are, Mr. McCawley," chimed in Mr. Astor. "I heard from the officers that we are about 700 miles to Newfoundland. It wouldn't do you any good if you tried to stroke your way at that distance."

McCawley felt embarrassed by this comment. Mr. Woolner just chuckled and made his way outside and down to the Promenade Deck, where he noticed one lifeboat lowered by the A-Deck windows. They were a last-minute design improvement, added during the construction delay following the Olympic's accident with the Hawke. It was also one of Thomas Andrews' ideas for making Titanic even more luxurious. First Class passengers would now be able to stroll on deck in any kind of weather. When it came to loading lifeboats from the forward end of A Deck, however, these windows proved to be an obstacle. They required a special wrench to crank them open, something that in all the confusion took over an hour and a half to accomplish. But Mr. Woolner found another solution.

"I remembered noticing as I came up that all those glass windows were raised to the very top; and I went up to the captain and saluted him and said: "Haven't you forgotten, sir, that all those glass windows are closed?" He said: "By God, you are right. Call those people back." Very few people had moved, but the few that had gone down the companionway came up again, and everything went on all right."

Because of this action, Hugh Woolner helped save time and perhaps more lives. Captain Smith made everyone assemble on the boat deck and man the boats from there.

On the Boat Deck, Lightoller saw to it that the boats on his side were swung out. By now, he was standing amidst a crowd of uncertain passengers in all states of dress and undress. One of the First Class women was barefoot. Others were in stockings. Luigi Gatti was in a top hat and overcoat. Some members of the Guarantee Group had their lifebelts on. Others were still in evening dress, while some were in bathrobes and kimonos. Women were wearing lifebelts over velvet gowns, then topping it with sole stoles. Some brought jewels, others books, even small dogs.

Lightoller saw Smith walking stiffly toward him and quickly approached him. He yelled into the Captain's left ear, through cupped hands, over the roar of the steam.

”We are now ready, sir!” he shouted. “Hadn’t we better get the women and children into the boats, sir?”

Following a few silent seconds, with Smith looking out towards the light on the horizon, he replied as loudly as his vocal strength could muster.

”Women and children first,” he replied.

Lightoller could have sworn the captain said “women and children only”. Anyway, he stuck with it.

12:40 a.m., starboard, Lifeboat 7 was the first to be launched. First Officer Murdoch was giving the commands to seamen who had never made a launch quite like this one. Fifth Officer Lowe was assisting him.

"Lower away! Left and right together!" he shouted as the boat slowly dropped.

The boat descended slowly, unevenly, then it started to tilt to the bow. The passengers were unprepared for this emergency. Murdoch, seeing this, shouted.

"HOLD THE LEFT SIDE! RIGHT SIDE ONLY AND LOWER AWAY TOGETHER! STEADY!"

The ship's bright portholes slid past. The seconds crawled by as if in a nightmare. Black and calm, the ocean received Number 7, launched with about 28 of it's 65 seats occupied. Because the danger was not yet apparent and because Murdoch was in a hurry, the boat had to have been launched with that number of passengers. Among those in the boat were the Bishops, Dorothy Gibson and her mother, Paul Chevre, the Snyders, Second Class passenger Alfred Nourney (travelling under the alias of Baron Alfred von Drachstedt), Archie Jewell and his fellow lookout George Hogg was put in command.

Quartermaster George Rowe, still on duty at the stern of Titanic, had been unaware of the last hour's events. The iceberg looked to him like the huge sail of a passing schooner. Now he was puzzled to see Lifeboat 7 rowing aft on the starboard. He telephoned the bridge and asked Fourth Officer Boxhall why there was a boat in the water. Boxhall, confused at first, understood that he was speaking to the last crewman to know of the collision. He ordered Rowe to get the signal rockets and come forward.

Most people at first had no idea of what the emergency was all about. It was an unusual situation, but few people had the impression that it was a life-threatening one. In addition to Quartermaster Rowe's mistake of the iceberg being a sail, a few of the passengers went on record their odd first impressions. Dr. Henry Frauenthal was completely mystified as to why people were getting into boats, he had to ask Third Officer Pitman. Katie Gilnagh, having boarded Titanic from one of the tenders at Queenstown, assumed that they had reached New York and were getting off in the same way. Due to the lateness of the hour, she left her luggage behind. Eight-year-old Winifred Quick, when she and her little sister Phyllis had to put on lifejackets, assumed that they were expected to swim from the boat, and she was understandably terrified. One of the Armenian passengers, most likely Neshan Krekorian, had never been to sea. He assumed it was completely normal to be awakened by a steward and loaded into a lifeboat.

At 12:44 a.m., the D-Deck gangway doors were opened to assist in loading the boats. Unfortunately, they were never used.

At 12:45 a.m., starboard, Lifeboat 5 was the second to be launched. This time, it was lowered by Fifth Officer Lowe and Third Officer Pitman was put in command. Because the boat was not full and men were allowed to board, two more jumped in to join their families as the lowering began. Still unaware of the situation's gravity, Lowe launched the boat with about 41 seats occupied. Among those in the boat were Karl Behr, the Beckwiths, Edward P. Calderhead, the Crosbys, Steward Etches, Mrs. Dodge and her son, Spencer Silverthorne and Mrs. Stengel, who was injured by the 250 pound Elmer Taylor when he jumped in on top of her, breaking several of her ribs. Dr. Frauenthal, who jumped in with his wife Clara and brother Henry, treated her injuries.

The boat began to suffer from lowering difficulties, and Ismay, who seemed to have come out of nowhere, began to panic.

"Hurry! There's no time to waste! Lower away! Lower away! Lower away!"

He flailed his arms like he was a swan en flambé. Lowe stopped him.

"What the hell is wrong with you? Do you want me to drown the lot of them?!"

Ismay did not appreciate his tone of voice.

"Do you know who I am?! I am the president of the line!"

"I don't give a damn if you're the bloody Prince of Wales," shouted Lowe pointing his right index finger at Ismay. "You are a passenger and I'm a ship's officer, now do as you're told and go back with the other men!"

"Sorry," said Ismay sheepishly.

Numbly, with a fake grin, he backed away.

Back in the wireless room, Captain Smith came to check on the operators.

"Any news?"

"We've made contact with at least a few ships," replied Bride. "The Carpathia says she's making about 17 knots. Full steam for them, I imagine."

"She's the only one close?" asked Smith.

"Along with the Mount Temple," replied Bride. "If Carpathia's report is to be believed, they'll likely to be here in four hours."

Smith's face fell with shock. It seemed like there was no hope left.

"It'll be too late by then."

He turned to Phillips.

"What are you sending?" he asked.

"C.Q.D." Phillips replied. "Just as you requested."

Bride cut in with a little remark that made everyone laugh, even the captain.

"Send S.O.S.," Bride said. 'It's the new call, and it may be your last chance to send it.'

Phillips with a laugh changed the signal to S.O.S.

Until the wreck of Titanic, the most common Morse code distress signal was C.Q.D. The basic attention call was C.Q., perhaps shorthand for the words "seek you," or "attention." The D indicated distress. Another interpretation suggested that C.Q.D. simply stood for "Come Quickly, Danger." The S.O.S. call was established as an international signal in 1908 because it was so easily recognizable. Although SOS was first used by the Algonquin, it quickly became the standard after Phillips and Bride demonstrated its poignancy as a cry for help.

At the same time down below, the aft watertight doors were opened to give access for the pump crew. One of them, Jonathan Shepherd, broke his leg after slipping on a raised access plate, but fellow engineer Herbert Harvey and Fred Barrett helped him to the pump room.

That should hold it, Chief Engineer Bell said to himself when the pumps began. The longer we can keep her afloat, the more lives we'll save.

On the starboard wing of the bridge, Fourth Officer Boxhall and Quartermaster George Rowe fired the first of the eight distress rockets. The aerial explosion lit up the sea around Titanic. After this, Boxhall signaled with a Morse lamp in the direction of the distant ship visible off their bow, hoping for a response.

By 1912, exploding rockets were standard signaling equipment on all ocean liners. The colors of the rockets indicated which company owned the ship. Boxhall would later claim that he and Rowe were firing white rockets from the bridge, but some passengers and crew reported seeing colored explosions. Whatever the color, a distress rocket could be determined by how loud it was. A bigger bang would attract the attention of someone who might be facing in the other direction.

On the port side, at around 12:55 a.m. Lifeboat 6 was ready to be launched.

"Ladies and gentleman, your attention please!" yelled the voice of Second Officer Lightoller. "Step this way please, come towards me!"

At last, the roaring of the steam fell silent. Now he could keep his voice at a normal volume.

"Thank you," he said to the funnels as if they were being merciful with him.

"We are to begin boarding the lifeboats," he announced. "For the time being, I shall require only women and children."

"But surely it's women and children first and not only," protested Marion Kenyon. "What about my husband?"

"I'm sorry, madam," Lightoller apologized. "But he'll have to wait. Now come along, the boat is perfectly safe. This is only a precautionary measure."

The boat had been swung out on its davits and lowered even with the deck. Despite Lightoller's words of comfort, the ship felt too safe in comparison with the small boat. They, along with the first passengers boarding the lifeboats didn't think Titanic would really sink. They stood atop the huge, solid liner, looking far down at the cold, black sea, and it probably seemed ridiculous to them to leave something so bright and familiar for the uncertainty of a tiny boat in the middle of the ocean. Climbing in and being lowered away would be admitting the unthinkable: that something was seriously wrong with Titanic, that their lives were in danger.

Bess Allison, who was holding Lorraine by her left hand, approached the boat. She was about to enter it when she looked up to Lightoller.

"Really," she said. "I think I'm better off going with my husband and son."

"If you're looking for him," said Major Peuchen. "He's on the other side."

Bess wasn't sure who he was referring to, but she immediately took off for the starboard side.

Edith Bowerman and her daughter Elsie, both members of the Women's Social and Political Union, scoffed at the idea.

”You watch,” Edith said to Elsie. “They’ll put us off in these silly little boats to freeze and we’ll all be back on board by breakfast.”

At last, Mrs. Elizabeth Rothschild stepped into the boat with her pet Pomeranian dog. She kept him hidden under Lightoller's nose. Then Leila Meyer entered, along with Martha Stone and Eloise Smith, who asked the Captain if her husband could accompany her.

"Women and children first!" he told her.

Confident that her husband would join her, Eloise entered the boat. Maggie, Ruth, Trudy and Theresa stood nearby, helping the rest of the women into the boat.

"I should go back and get my brooch for good luck," Ruth was saying. "And then I'll go and look for Rose."

"It won't do you any good if this ship sinks," Maggie comforted her. "Now get in, First Class seats are right there."

"But what about Rose?"

"I'm sure she'll be along," said Mrs. Candee, trying to think positive.

But no sooner after she said this, that she slipped and sprained her ankle.

Julia Cavendish was the next to board, followed by Hélène Baxter and her daughter Mary "Suzette" Douglas, who were saying goodbye to her husband and Suzette's father Quigg, who waved them away.

"Goodbye and keep your spirits everyone," he told them.

Of course, he said this in French, so Ruth couldn't understand even a little of it. With some nudging from Maggie, she approached the boat. Slowly, perhaps a little timid and fearful of the long drop to the water, she placed her right foot in, then her left foot and with a sigh, she slowly sat down. With a bit of ease on her mind, maybe things weren’t too bad.

But then, after being joined by Trudy and Theresa....

”Hey wait a minute!”

Before she even realized it, a large behind of a shadow came upon Ruth and Mrs. Candee, falling upon them both. Said object was Maggie, having been tossed into the boat by Quartermaster Hitchens, who was in charge of the boat, and Lightoller. Maggie recovered and looked around. Aside from Hitchens and Lookout Fleet, there were mostly women in the boat. At least 24 seats occupied to be precise.

”Lower away!” Lightoller shouted.

The boat began to lower, down, down, down...

”Wait!”

The lowering stopped.

”We only have one sailor in this boat!”

Lightoller heard Maggie’s cries. Then he felt a finger tapping his right shoulder. He turned around fast and saw Major Peuchen standing there. He had seen everything.

”I’d like to accompany them if I may. I am a yachtsman.”

Captain Smith was also nearby. He pointed Peuchen to the deck below him.

”I suggest you should go down to the Promenade Deck and break a window. Then you can climb into the boat.”

”If he is as much a sailor as he claims to be,” said Lightoller. “He should slide down the ropes.”

That is exactly what Peuchen did. He grabbed one of the ropes and carefully slid his way down into the boat. Maggie helped him in. Peuchen would later come to realize that he had lost his wallet somewhere along the way down. Until he was in the lifeboat, he did not even realize that Titanic was foundering.

To allay panic, Captain Smith ordered the band to move from the First Class Lounge and onto the Boat Deck. Under the direction of First Violinist Wallace Hartley, they continued to serenade the evacuation.

In case you probably haven't known by now, eight musicians were hired by White Star to entertain Titanic's passengers. There were three violinists (Jock Hume, George Krins and Wallace Hartley who was also the Bandmaster), two cellists (George Woodward and Roger Bricoux), two pianists (Percy Taylor and Ted Brailey) and one bass violinist (Fred Clark). The musicians usually formed two ensembles—quite unusual in a time when most liners only had one—and played in various groupings throughout the First and Second Class common areas of the ship: the Palm Court and Verandah, the Lounges, and the Dining Saloon. Bricoux, who was French and had a marked Continental style, was usually assigned to the trio in the A La Carte Restaurant. There were also occasions when the musicians would stroll among the passengers singly or in smaller groups, performing requests and accepting tips. (Hartley's presence was a feather in White Star's cap. The company had managed to hire him away from the Mauretania, the fastest liner in the Atlantic, owned by the rival Cunard. Hartley in turn, was allowed to request the musicians whom he felt would best create the atmosphere that Titanic required.)

Entertaining wealthy passengers on luxury liners may sound romantic, but these musicians' lives were far from easy. They were hired help, expected to know 352 tunes by heart, and to play them at appropriate times. Their destinies were controlled by C.W. & F.N. Black, a Liverpool talent agency that held a virtual monopoly on British passenger lines. The musicians traveled Second Class under a single ticket, eight men and their instruments crowded into two cabins. They were each paid four pounds a month, and charged for expenses. Passenger tips were unreliable, but without them, the musicians would end up paying for the privileges of working.

Now they had merged into a single group. Hartley stood before his fellow band members and commanded one title:

"Wedding Dance."

And the band began to play...

Around this time on the Boat Deck, starboard, Lifeboat 3 was the fourth to be launched. The passengers and crew aboard believed that a rescue ship would soon steam into view. Titanic towered above them, solid and bright. Number 3 rowed away from her with only about 33 seats occupied. Able Bodied Seaman George Moore was put in command. Many First Class passengers were accompanied by their servants and a number of firemen were ordered by Murdoch to row. Among those in the boat were the Speddens and their servants (plus Polar), Charlotte Cardeza and her son Thomas, Thornton Davidson, Swiss lawyer Dr. Max Stahelin of Basel, Oberst Alfons Simonius-Blumer, Mrs. Hays and her maid, the honeymooning couple of Mr. and Mrs. Albert Dick and the Harpers with Sun-Yat-sen.

On the port side, Lifeboat 6 touched gently down into the water. Hitchens unhooked the falls.

"Now, to get away from this ship," he muttered. "All hands, pull!"

Fleet was having some trouble with the oar. Being a lookout, he wasn't used to rowing a boat. Maggie noticed this.

"Young man, you look like a duck with a broken wing. Why not let me and Helen take charge."

Mrs. Candee grabbed one of the oars, and slowly, they pulled away.

Trudy and Theresa shared an oar with Marie Spencer's personal maid Eugenie Lurette, who was grateful for their assistance.

Ruth was now wishing that she had the strength to row, but all she could think about was Rose.

While the Master of Arms assisted the purser in second class with moving the jewels into a black Gladstone bag, Rose was on her way to the hospital, passing a few persons who urged her to go back. But Rose was to hardheaded to listen. She made it to the padded room, shouting.

"Jack are you in there?"

"Yes!" came the muffled voice. "THEY'VE LOCKED ME IN!"

"Good! I have the master key!"

She shoved the key into the door lock, and....click!

It was open. Jack hugged and kissed her for a minute.

"Now let's get my friends," said Jack. "They're probably going to launch lifeboats by now."

Rose, fully agreeing that the lower classes deserved to live, mentally agreed, and to the stern they went.

Meanwhile in Boiler Room 5, Engineer Herbert Harvey was working the pumps with stoker Barrett. Engineer Shepherd was nearby, groaning and holding a broken leg.

Suddenly a wall of water rushed toward them from between the forward boilers as a bulkhead burst. Harvey ordered Barrett up an escape ladder as he ran to save Shepherd. Barrett looked down in time to see the two engineers struggling in the swirling turbulence. Then the water engulfed them and they are gone. Barrett climbed on, terrified.

Back above decks, Lawrence Beesley reported of a rumor spreading on the starboard side that men were being taken off on the port side. As a result, the aft starboard quarter of the ship was virtually abandoned. Lightoller, meanwhile, was trying to keep a stiff upper lip to the passengers. Then he directed them at something over the horizon.

"See that light? Just there? That steamer'll be here in plenty of time to take us off."

At 1:00 a.m., starboard, Lifeboat 1 was the fifth to be launched. It was a small emergency cutter, swung out over the water in a state of constant readiness, and Murdoch was eager to clear its davits for one of the collapsibles. As a result, the boat was launched with only twelve seats occupied. The only passengers in it were Sir Cosmo and Lucille, Lady Duff-Gordon, Miss Francatelli, Mr. Stengel and Mr. A. L. Saloman, with a crew of seven. Lookout George Symons was put in command.

When the passengers got in, their feelings were mixed.

"I just know I'm going to be seasick," Lady Lucille muttered to herself.

"Do try to be calm, dear," said Sir Cosmo. "It won't be so bad."

The moment of worry was lightened by Mr. Stengal stumbling and rolling into the boat.

"That is the funniest sight I have seen tonight!" Murdoch laughed heartily.

"I wish we were back in bed," sighed Mr. Saloman as he boarded. "Bobbing about the Atlantic in a life boat? It's really too much."

"And risk drowning?" asked Miss Francatelli incredulously. "I should think not."

The seven crew members got in and down they went. Andrews, around this time, went to the port side, to speak with Anthony Frost and William Parr at the main feeder switchboard.

At 1:05 a.m., starboard, Lifeboat 9 was the sixth to be launched. Boatswain's Mate Albert Hayes was put in command. The crew who loaded Number 9 did so with a sense of urgency as not even Benjamin Guggenheim could join Madame Aubart as she stepped into the boat with her maid. They were joined by Kate Buss, Marion Wright and Mrs. Lines and her daughter to name a few.

"We will soon see each other again!" said Guggenheim to the maid in German. "It's just a repair. Tomorrow the Titanic will go on again."

But it would be a lot more serious than he imagined.

Back on the port side of the Boat Deck, Mr. and Mrs. Straus, along with their maid Ellen Bird and manservant John Farthing, were making their way to Lifeboat 8. Ellen went first, carrying her mistresses' jewels and fur coat, but Ida, after placing one foot into the boat, turned to Lightoller.

"Any room for my husband?" she asked.

"Only women at this time, madam," was his reply.

Ida stepped back to Isidor.

"I've always stayed with my husband, so why should I leave him now?"

She turned to Isidor.

"We've been together for many years. Where you go, I go."

"I'm sure nobody would object to an old gentleman like you getting in," Mr. Woolner said to Isidor.

But Isidor looked at some of the other male faces who were doomed to stay behind and made his decision.

"I will not go before the other men. Come along, Ida, perhaps the next life will be better than this one."

"Maybe it will," Ida smiled. "As we have lived, so we will die, together."

With her fate sealed, Ida Straus became one of four First Class women who did not board a lifeboat.

Some couples were not given a choice. The separation between family members was quick and painful. Two notable passengers affected by this were Charlotte Collyer and Selini Yasbeck, who didn't realize that they were leaving Titanic without their husbands until it was too late.

"The third boat was about half full when a sailor caught Marjorie, my daughter, in his arms, tore her away from me and threw her into the boat." Mrs. Collyer recounted. "She was not even given a chance to tell her father good-bye! 'You, too!' a man yelled close to my ear. 'You’re a woman. Take a seat in that boat, or it will be too late.' The deck seemed to be slipping under my feet. It was leaning at a sharp angle; for the ship was then sinking fast, bows down. I clung desperately to my husband. I do not know what I said; but I shall always be glad to think that I did not want to leave him. A man seized me by the arm. Then, another threw both his arms about my waist and dragged me away by main strength. I heard my husband say: 'Go, Lotty! For God’s sake, be brave, and go! I’ll get a seat in another boat.' The men who held me rushed me across the deck, and hurled me bodily into the lifeboat.”

"My husband and I headed for the lifeboats." Mrs. Yasbeck explained. "He push me on and as he tried to join me, two policeman grab him as they wanted to save all the women and children first. I began yelling and crying as I wanted to join him on the sinking ship. The boat was paddled away from the Titanic so fast that I couldn't jump off and be with my husband."

Even Mary Marvin was caught in the sailors haste to load the lifeboats. Daniel was filming her reaction to the event, hoping to cast some light off of the glare of the distress rockets. When she was called forth, Daniel assisted her in and said:

"It's alright, little girl. You go. I will stay."

Mr. and Mrs. Straus sat down on a pair of deck chairs and watched as the boat carrying their maid, Number 8, became the seventh boat to leave Titanic with 28 seats occupied. Accompanying Ellen were Emma Bucknell, Sarah Daniels (who was the Allison family's maid), Dr. Alice Leader (one of the few female doctors of the time), Ella White, Marie Young, the Countess of Rothes and her cousin to name a few. Able Bodied Seaman Thomas Jones was put in command. With only three other crew members aboard, the women took an active role in handling the boat. The Countess spent most of the night at the tiller, and Mrs. Margaret Swift spent the whole time rowing.

They rowed close to Lifeboat 6, where Maggie and Ruth were surprised to find a Third Class stowaway. His name was Phillip Zenni.

"Please don't toss me over!" he pleaded in a thick Syrian accent. "I don't stand a chance up there."

Hitchens glowered at him.

"You're lucky I won't," he said. "Now help these women row."

Timidly, he walked behind Ruth and helped to row.

"Normally," said Ruth, coldly but not unkindly. "I would protest being seated with a peasant. But in your case, maybe I can make an exception."

Seeing Zenni made her think about Jack.

Speaking of Jack, he and Rose were making their way to the stern as quick as possible, passing stewards and Steerage passengers of the like.

"What if we don't find them?" Rose asked. "There are plenty of Steerage passengers we can save too, you know."

"I know they do Rose, but we can't save everyone."

Rose reflected on Mr. Andrews' specifications on the lifeboats and knew that some lives had to be sacrificed to save others. Maybe the Board of Trade would think twice before building a new ship with a small number of boats. They continued heading aft.

At 1:10 a.m., starboard, Lifeboat 11 was the eighth to be launched. It was the first to be sent off overloaded, launched with 70 people aboard, despite its 65-person capacity. Quartermaster James Humphries was put in command. Murdoch designated this as the "children's boat", sending along some mothers and many stewards to watch over them. Among said mothers, children and stewards were Alice Cleaver, who gave Trevor Allison to Steward William Faulkner as she boarded, Mildred Brown, who was the Allison family's cook, Edith Rosenbaum, who entertained the kids with her paper-mâché pig that played "The Maxie", the Beckers, Marie Jerwan, Annie Robinson, Phillip Aks, and Steward James Witter, whose life was saved by accident.

"On my way to the upper deck," he recounted. "I met the 2nd purser, who told me to clear the cabins of passengers and ensure that they all had lifebelts, this I did then carried on to the upper deck and stood by no. 11 boat where I assisted the women and children to get on board. As the boat was about to be lowered a hysterical woman tried to clamber in to the boat, so I stood on the guard rail to assist her in, as she half fell in to the boat I went in with her, the boat was then being lowered."

Don Manuel Uruchurtu almost got away, but when Second Class passenger Elizabeth Nye walked up to find out that there was no room for her in the boat, he gave up his seat for her.

By 1:15, with the situation going from bad to worse, Lightoller and his fellow officers were beginning to realize that they needed to fill the boats up to full capacity. Andrews was going around and shouting:

"Ladies, you must get in at once. There is not a moment to lose. You cannot pick and choose your boat. Don’t hesitate. Get in, get in!"

As Andrews helped the passengers into their boats, with Ismay doing the same for some people, the rest of the Third Class passengers were sensing that their time was running out and began to panic.

"You can't keep us here like old beer!" Tommy protested to the barrier of stewards. "The ship's bloody sinking!"

William Denton Cox came back with orders.

"We're ready now," he said to Kiernan.

"Everyone follow your respective stewards!" said Kiernan.

They parted ways to let some of the women through, some children followed, then a few more men who overwhelmed Kiernan. He tried to push them back, intending on letting only the women through but he and some sailors managed to push a few back. Cox lead his group towards the upper decks.

Tommy began to scream, his face turning as red as a tomato. "FOR THE LOVE OF FUCKING GOD, MAN!! THERE ARE WOMEN AND CHILDREN DOWN HERE!! LET US ALL THROUGH SO WE CAN HAVE A CHANCE!!"

But the screams of the panicking passengers nearly drowned out his cry. Somehow, Jack heard it.

"TOMMY?!"

"Jack!"

Tommy pushed his way down the stairs. Fabrizio, Ara and Massimo joined them. Behind him were Helga and her parents.

"We can't go up there!" the Irishman stated. "It's hopeless that way!"

"Maybe we can find a quicker entrance."

Jack was just thinking of an idea, when Steward Hart led his group down a hallway toward a pair of stairs, leaving behind the Goodwin’s and the Cartmells. Jack and his group, along with Olaus and Bjorn followed after him. Fabrizio lagged behind, hoping to take Helga with him.

"Come on, I'll take you to the boats," he said in one breath.

"I can't," she said. "My parents. Still no understand."

Fabrizio saw Mr. and Mrs. Dahl's faces. They could sense his urgency, but not the exact meaning of his words. Even after almost a week aboard, they still didn’t trust Helga to go with him, and both she and Fabrizio understood that family came first. She kissed him, then stepped back to be with her parents.

"I will never forget you!" Fabrizio shouted as Helga's face disappeared into the crowd.

After failing to find Rose, Cal and Lovejoy decided to work out an exit strategy. Recalling Rose's analysis of the lifeboat situation, the total number of passengers, the capacity of the boats, and the fact that many have already been launched half full, it meant they may have to resort to drastic means to ensure a place.

"Murdoch seems to be letting men on board," said Lovejoy.

"I suppose," said Cal. "But I'll still need some insurance first."

Returning to B-54, Cal had just opened up the safe, stuffing the Heart of the Ocean, a hundred dollar bills and his own personal firearm, a Colt Model 1903, which he had gotten as a gift from Lovejoy last year for his birthday, into his overcoat pockets.

"I make my own luck," he told Lovejoy.

"As do I," Lovejoy smirked. "If you do not mind, I would like to hold on to that gun for safe-keeping."

Cal handed Lovejoy the gun, closed the safe and left the room, leaving behind his luggage, Rose's purchased paintings, most of Rose and Ruth's jewelry (which were neglected to be stored in the purser's office) and a sketchbook of drawings belonging to his rival.

Around that time, Lifeboat 13 was the ninth to be launched, loaded on the starboard side by Sixth Officer Moody. Leading Fireman Frederick Barrett was put in command. This was the first boat to stop at the now open windows of the A-Deck promenade and take on passengers and Dr. Washington Dodge was lucky enough to be in the right place at the right moment.

"When boat number thirteen was being lowered from the 'A' deck," he said of the experience. "It stayed there for at least two minutes while the officers in charge were calling for more women and children. But as none responded the officers said (and I am sorry I do not know their names) 'some of you men tumble in,' and I 'tumbled."

He was the only First Class passenger to board. Among those accompanying him were Lawrence Beesley, the Beanes, the Caldwells, Bridget Bradley, Kate Connolly, Mary Agatha Glynn and Lookout Lee to name a few.

Some, however, were reluctant to board.

"Don't put me in that boat!" cried one hysterical woman. "I don't want to go in that boat! I've never been in an open boat in my life!"

"You have got to go and you may as well keep quiet," Steward F. Dent Ray said to her in a mean way.

As it was lowered, the boat dipped before touching down, then it was pushed by a stream of discharge water that soaked some aboard.

But there was worse to come.

Almost 10 minutes later, Lifeboat 15 was the tenth to be launched. When it started to lower, Third Class passenger Elin Matilda Hakkarainen was called forth as there was room for one more woman, but as she stepped onboard, she fell between the boat and the ship's side, but thankfully, they pulled her in.

As the boat descended, those aboard noticed Lifeboat 13 had drifted below them. They screamed up to stop the lowering, but the deck crew could not hear them. Passengers below tried to hold off the 5-ton Lifeboat 15 with their upturned hands. Thinking fast, Stoker Fred Barrett and Seaman Robert Hopkins lunged across their fellow passengers to cut the lines. A few seconds passed, the mood grew tense, but eventually, Lifeboat 13 drifted out of the way just before Number 15 slapped down in the water, launched overloaded with 70 people. Fireman Frank Dymond was put in command. Many of the passengers were Third Class women and children, such as Selma Asplund, her son Felix and daughter Lilian, Charles Edward Dahl (no relation to Helga's family), Helga and Hildwe Hervonen, Baker Charles Burgess, Steward Lewis and Steward Hart, who managed to make his way to the Boat Deck just in time with his group.

As for Rose, Jack and their merry crew, they were still searching for a way out, Fabrizio's delay with Helga making them lose track of Steward Hart's group. They pushed past confused passengers....Rhoda Abbot keeping a tight hold on her two sons Rossmore and Eugene, Grga Čačić arguing with his sister Marija as to where they should go, and Sha'nīnah Abī Sa'b urging her cousin Ḥannā Ṭannūs Mu'awwad to hurry as they studied the signs with an English to Arabic translation book. They took the stairwell to the galley onto D-Deck and proceeded aft past the pantry, through the galley, passing the baker and butcher shops, ran into the Second Class Dining Saloon and made their way up the stairs.

Along the way, they passed John and Sarah Chapman.

"This lapse in social order is quite distressing, wouldn't you think?" asked Sarah to her husband.

”I agree,” said John. “Packing the women off in such crowded quarters? If I were captain, I would be running an even tighter ship!”

At 1:20 a.m., Trimmer Thomas Dillon, Greaser Frederick Scott and Leading Fireman Thomas Threlfall were ordered to get up topside.

"We've done all we can men, get out now!" ordered Second Engineer Hesketh.

Most of the remaining firemen, trimmers, and greasers followed them while others stayed behind at their posts to help the engineers.

Exactly an hour remained for the sinking vessel.

By 1:24, Titanic's officers were now preparing for the worst. This is what they planned to do according the words of Second Officer Lightoller: 

"It was about this time that the Chief Officer came over from the starboard side and asked, did I know where the firearms were? As I pointed out before, it was the First Officer’s responsibility to receive firearms, navigation instruments, and so forth. I have also said firearms on merchant ships are looked on as ornamental more than useful, and as First Officer I had simply hove the lot into a locker, in my original cabin, a locker that was of little use owing to its inaccessibility. Then, later on, had come the “general post,” whereby Murdoch who was now First Officer, knew nothing about the firearms, and couldn’t find them when they were wanted—I say wanted, rather than needed, because I still don’t believe they were actually needed. I told the Chief Officer, “Yes, I know where they are. Come along and I’ll get them for you,” and into the First Officer’s cabin we went—the Chief, Murdoch, the Captain and myself—where I hauled them out, still in all their pristine newness and grease. I was going out when the Chief shoved one of the revolvers into my hands, with a handful of ammunition, and said, “Here you are, you may need it.” On the impulse, I just slipped it into my pocket, along with the cartridges, and returned to the boats. The whole incident had not taken more than three minutes, though it seemed barely worth that precious time."

The guns were Webley Mark VIs, short-barreled and nickel-plated revolvers that could hold up to six bullets.

When Rose, Jack and their entourage reached the boat deck, it was 1:30 and they could see two boats on the port side being launched, numbers 16 and 14.

Fabrizio had his eyes locked upon Lifeboat 14, which was being loaded by Fifth Officer Lowe and Seaman Joseph Scarrot with women and children, including the Comptons, the Minahans, Benjamin Hart saying goodbye to his wife Esther and his only daughter Eva, Joseph LaRoche, the only Haitian passenger onboard seeing his own wife and daughters into the boat, along with Daniel Buckley with some other men demanding to be let on. Taking advantage of the situation, and ignoring Massimo's protests, he sprinted his way toward Number 14, and...

If you want to know how that turned out, just ask Charlotte Collyer.

"He screamed another order for the boat to be lowered; but just as we were getting away, a steerage passenger, an Italian, I think, came running the whole length of the deck and hurled himself into the boat. He fell upon a young child, and injured her internally. The officer seized him by the collar, and by sheer brute strength pushed him back on to the Titanic. As we shot down toward the sea I caught a last glimpse of this coward. He was in the hands of about a dozen men of the second cabin. They were driving their fists into his face and he was bleeding from the nose and mouth."

Other men were desperately trying to escape the sinking Titanic, but were dealt with severely for failing to follow the rules.

"It was mostly women," Edith Brown explained as she was getting in to her boat. "All women but there was a man dressed as a woman got on there and the officer said if he could, he jumped into the lifeboat as it was going down and he said, "I've a good mind to shoot you", he said, "You might have capsized the boat with all the women and children in it."

And I'm sorry to say, that like Ida and Isidor Straus, John and Sarah Chapman decided not to leave the ship after Sarah found out that her husband could not accompany her.

"Goodbye, Mrs. Richards," she said to a friend. "If John can't go, I won't go either."

After Massimo helped the bloodied and battered Fabrizio up, it was quite clear to Rose and the others that only women could go. Even so, they had to see to it that Rose would be safe.

”Any room for this lady?” Jack asked Moody, who had joined Lightoller on this side.

Moody made no attempt to do a head count on the passengers of Lifeboat 16, which was the eleventh to be launched with over 40 seats occupied.

”No more, I’m afraid,” was his answer.

Jack considered himself lucky that neither he nor Joseph Bailey, the other one of the Masters-at-Arms made any eye contact. All they could do was watch as he slid down the falls to take charge of the boat, joining such brave women like Katie Gilnagh, Edwina Troutt, the McCoy family and Stewardesses May Sloan and Violet Jessop. If you’re less than interested in reading about the peculiar details of her departure, you can skip this quote:

"My arm was suddenly jerked and I turned to see young Mason who had been busy filling a boat. His face looked weary and tired, but he gave a bright smile as he ordered my group into the boat, calling out “Good luck!” as we stepped in, helped by his willing, guiding hand. I nearly fell over the tackle and oars as I tried to assist Ann in beside me. She was suffering with her feet, I could see, and found her lifebelt got in the way of moving freely. Before I could do anything, young Mason hailed me and held up something, calling as he prepared to throw it, “Look after this, will you?” and I reached out to receive somebody’s forgotten baby in my arms. It started to whimper as I pressed it to me, the hard cork surface of the lifebelt being anything but a comfort, poor mite. The boat was full now, full of people with dull, inquiring faces. I spoke to one woman but she shook her head, not understanding a word I said. Groaning, the boat descended a fearful distance into that inky blackness beneath, intensified as the lights fell on it occasionally."

Although she never knew his name, Violet Jessop had left Titanic with five-month-old As'ad Tannūs and she was determined to reunite him with his mother.

Below those aboard and everyone else, the sea was creeping further into the abandoned steerage quarters. The bow of the ship was now so low in the water that it's Titanic nameplates were submerged. Another rocket burst overhead, lighting the sea and sky in a persistent distress call. The band continued playing ragtime tunes, bravely and merrily on the Boat Deck. Eleven of the twenty lifeboats had been launched and the ship had less than an hour to live.

A few miles away aboard the ice-bound Californian, Second Officer Herbert Stone and an apprentice named James Gibson, had counted five white rockets above what they thought was a mysterious tramp steamer to the south.

"That's the fifth one sir," said Gibson.

Stone opened the cover and called into the voice pipe.

In the chart room, Captain Stanley Lord was awakened by the voice. Half awake but fully cross, he answered into the pipe.

"What is it?"

"That steamer is firing rockets, sir," said Stone. "Five so far."

"Could they be company signals?"

"Couldn't say sir. They're white, is all."

"Well, try to raise them with the Morse lamp and wake me if you get any more information. And when you get an answer, let me know by Gibson."

"Aye-aye, sir."

Lord replaced the stopper in the voice tube and lied down, turning off the light.

As the men signaled, they observed how the stranger's lights had been disappearing. They assumed she was steaming away to the southwest.

At 1:35 a.m., port, Lifeboat 12 was the twelfth to be launched. Able-Bodied Seamen John Poigndestre was put in command. Only one of the panic-stricken men was able to jump in as it lowered. It was launched with about 30 seats occupied, among said occupants being Lilian Bentham, Alice Phillips of New Brighton, Pennslyvania, Gurshon Cohen, Imanita Shelley, Lutie Parrish and Laura Cribb to name a few.

Even though there was enough room, Rose was still being stubborn.

"I'm still not going without you," she told Jack.

"Rose, I hate to tell you this, but you need to stop acting like a mule and get onboard one of them."

The argument continued until about 1:40 when the situation started to get ugly. Passengers were swarming with activity as the ship’s aft end rose higher. The night was dark beyond this tilting island of lights. The thirteenth boat to go, Number 14, was rushed by a wave of desperate Third Class men who were trying to reach it. Seaman Joseph Scarrott swung the boat's tiller like a club to beat them back. As it lowered down to the Promenade Deck, Lowe had to fire warning shots from his FN as he cried.

"STAY BACK, YOU LOT, OR I'LL SHOOT EVERY ONE OF YOU!!"

Lowe could now breath a sigh of relief as the boat touched down into the water, taking him and 45 other people away from the sinking ship.

"I suppose you're glad that we didn't make a run for that one," Jack told the purple eyed Fabrizio.

By this time, the land station at Cape Race could no longer hear any messages from Titanic.

Meanwhile on the starboard side, Cal was also not willing to leave until he found Rose, if not save himself plus Lovejoy. He was so busy looking for her that he hadn't noticed until too late that most but not all of the starboard boats were gone.

"We'll have a better chance here," he said to Lovejoy earlier. "Especially since that stupid bastard is not letting any men on at all."

At this time, he saw Colonel Gracie coming his way with Edith Evans and Caroline Brown. When he saw a throng of steerage passengers trying to make their way up the well deck stairs, he was outraged.

"Why aren't you doing something about this?" he asked a passing crewman. "This is outrageous!"

Rose immediately recognized him by his voice and they rushed over.

"Colonel!"

"Miss Rose! Mr. Dawson! I almost feel glad to see you two again! I'd like you meet Miss Evans and-"

Rose cut him off.

"I'm sure we're glad to see you too, Colonel, but we need to find a boat. Are there any on that side?"

"No, but there are a couple of boats all the way forward. I'll take you there myself."

And off they sprang towards the bow, little realizing that Cal and Lovejoy had seen them.

"Might as well follow them."

Just then, Murdoch, after noticing that not too many people were on his side, came to supervise the lowering of Lifeboat 10, which was the fourteenth to be launched.

"Where is everyone else?" he asked Able Bodied Seaman Edward Buley who was to be put in charge.

"They all seems to be headed forwards, sir," he said pointing in the direction of the forward lifeboats where Lightoller had gone off to.

He turned to see Cal standing before him.

"Hello, Murdoch. I have a business preposition for you. Can you get me into a boat?"

"I'll see what I can do," Murdoch replied. "But I should not have to make you well aware that no passengers have authority over the crew."

Cal easily handed twenty dollar bills into Murdoch's right palm.

"Perhaps this will make you reconsider."

Murdoch knew in an instant that this was bribery, but he chose to pocket the money anyway. Perhaps he would give it back to Cal as a way of making him understand the rules.

"Yes, it has," the officer smiled, playing along.

Satisfied, Cal disappeared towards the bow with Lovejoy in tow.

Number 10 eventually left the ship with over 55 seats occupied, said occupants being Constance Willard, Mary Marvin, the Fortune family, Andre Mallet and his mother, Florence Thornycraft and the youngest Third Class passengers of them all, Bertram and Millvina Dean who were accompanied by their mother.

By 1:48, Captain Smith was looking down from the bridge, the forward well deck was already flooding and Titanic was taking on a slight list to port. Lightoller also watched the water rise as he supervised the boats being lowered.

"Between one boat being lowered away and the next boat being prepared, I usually nipped along to have a look down the very long emergency staircase leading direct from the boat deck down to “C” deck. Actually built as a short cut for the crew, it served my purpose now to gauge the speed with which the water was rising, and how high it had got. By now the foredeck was below the surface. That cold, green water, crawling its ghostly way up that staircase, was a sight that stamped itself indelibly on my memory. Step by step, it made its way up, covering the electric lights, one after the other, which, for a time, shone under the surface, with a horribly weird effect."

Before it even got too late, Captain Smith made his decision to call some boats back to the ship to take on more passengers. He grabbed his megaphone, borrowed Chief Officer Wilde to use his whistle and shouted:

"Come back! Come back to the ship! Pull back! Come around to the starboard side to bring aboard more passengers! Pull back! This is the Captain! Return to the ship!"

Far away, in Number 6, Maggie and her fellow passengers heard his cries. Quartermaster Hitchens didn't seem to bother, but it was Maggie who ordered:

"Stop! Captain Smith wants us to go back!"

"To Hell with him. He's just trying to drown us," said Hitchens callously. "In case you ladies aren't aware, the suction will pull us down if we don't keep going."

"You'd betray your own captain?!" shouted Mrs. Candee. "If we ever find help, I am considering reporting your ass to the authorities!"

"See if I care," Hitchens crossed his arms, confident that he could live through it.

"Please!" Ruth begged with clasped hands. "Rose could still be onboard. I say we go back!"

"NO!" bellowed Hitchens. "It's our lives now and not theirs, and I'm in charge of this boat, you bloody female!"

"Don't you know you're speaking to a lady?!" asked Major Peuchen.

Instead of a direct reply, Hitchens simply barked.

"JUST ROW!"

And so they did.

I suppose some of you might find this to be a very mean gesture, but Hitchens had his reasons. Perhaps he thought that, as appointed commander of a lifeboat rowing away from Titanic, he was no longer bound by the rules. Perhaps he reasoned that, as his pay would end with the ship's imminent sinking, so would his duties, such as following the Captain's orders. If this was what he assumed, there were no precedents for any such thing. Maggie and Major Peuchen, and others in Lifeboat 6 came to realize that they were listening to a coward speaking with the logic of fear.

Captain Smith called for other boats, but it was hard to ignore that they couldn't hear him at any distance.

"Fools!" he cursed.

All they could do was watch as Titanic's tiny white lifeboats fanned out from it in the icy water. Fourth Officer Boxhall and Quartermaster Rowe fired their eighth and final distress rocket. It was a brilliant white from close range, but one last flicker of hope, above a cold, black sea.

After finishing one song, Mr. Clarke was looking around to find that the crowd was in hurry, not even stopping to listen to any of their music.

"Nobody seems to be listening to us," he said to Hartley.

"Maybe Orpheus will give them something to listen to."

They began to play the iconic tune, with Gracie, Rose, Jack and their group rushing past them.

"What a load of good music to drown by," Tommy said to Fabrizio and the Gundersens. "Now I know I'm in First Class."

At 1:50 a.m., port, Lifeboat 2 was fifteenth to be launched. It rowed off with over 25 seats occupied. Boxhall was put in command, his passengers included being the Coutts and Kink families from Third Class. Willie Coutts would have easily recognized Rose, had they got there in time. But by the time they reached it, the boat was being lowered. Once it was in the water, Boxhall rowed around the stern in search of an open gateway. He never found it.

By this time, many steerage passengers had been searching for ways to the Boat Deck. They raced the rising water through unfamiliar parts of the ship to reach the lifeboats. Some found their way up the Grand Staircase while others were stopped on the stairs to the Boat Deck. There were only five Lifeboats left for the hundreds of people still aboard. Meanwhile, somebody, presumably John Jacob Astor and Ann Isham, had released the passengers' dogs from the kennels.

Most of the people who boarded Titanic with dogs left them in the kennels, which were on the Boat Deck near the fourth funnel. The ship's butcher was in charge of them, a holdover from the days when slower ships carried livestock and other animals on their voyages. Titanic passengers had free access to their pets and could walk them on deck at any hour. Some First Class passengers, such as the Carter and Bishop families, kept their dogs in their staterooms. In fact, Mrs. Helen Bishop's steward insisted that her dog, a toy poodle named Freu Freu, was too cute for the kennels and lovingly built it a shelter with her steamer trunks.

Anyway, after unsuccessfully finding the open gangway door to load more passengers, the passengers of Lifeboat 2 pleaded with Boxhall to row away. Boxhall reluctantly agreed.

Back on board, Lifeboat 4 and Collapsible D were being loaded by Lightoller and Moody, while the second to last boat, Collapsible C, was being loaded from the starboard side by Murdoch. The water was creeping up twenty feet below the Promenade Deck, the elegant First Class dining areas were flooding and Titanic had less than 25 minutes to live.

The Astors, the Carters and the Ryersons approached Number 4. J.J. and Madeleine went first, followed by her nurse Caroline and maid Rosalie.

"May I accompany my wife?" J.J. asked Lightoller. "I only ask because of her delicate condition."

"Not until all the women and children have left," said Lightoller, shaking his head slightly.

"May I ask for the number of the boat?"

"Number 4."

J.J. threw his gloves to Madeleine. Then it was the Ryersons’ turn. Emily considered herself lucky to be married to one of the few men who was able to bend Lightoller's inflexible rule.

"Again, we were ordered down to A deck, which was partly enclosed," she recalled of the event. "We saw people getting into boats, but waited our turn. There was a rough sort of steps constructed to get up to the window. My boy, Jack, was with me. An officer at the window said, "That boy can't go." My husband stepped forward and said, "Of course, that boy goes with his mother; he is only 13." So they let him pass. They also said, "No more boys." I turned and kissed my husband, and as we left he and the other men I knew - Mr. Thayer, Mr. Widener, and others - were all standing there together very quietly."

Victorine Chaudanson, the maid who had been accidentally locked in her cabin, joined her employers.

Rose and Jack, with their friends plus Colonel Gracie, watched Micheal Navratil place his sons Michel and Edmond into Collapsible D, with a few parting words in French.

"My child, when your mother comes for you, as she surely will, tell her that I loved her dearly and still do. Tell her I expected her to follow us, so that we might all live happily together in the peace and freedom of the New World."

Then came Benjamin Guggenheim and his valet Victor Giglio, donning top coats and white scarfs.

”Mr. Guggenheim,” said Rose once she saw him. “Will you at least make a try for it?”

”No need to,” he said. “We've dressed up in our best and are prepared to go down like gentlemen." He gave a slight pause before saying, "If anything should happen to me, tell my wife in New York I've done my best in doing my duty.”

He and Giglio joined Guggenheim’s chauffeur René Pernot and the three men walked into the First Class entrance for some brandy and cigars.

”Look for Kitty before you leave will you?” Madeleine was saying as Mr. Carter saw his wife and children into her boat.

”I will, dear.”

J.J. gave his wife a parting kiss and then John Thayer saw his wife and Miss Fleming into the boat as well, both of them catching a three second glimpse of Rose. John Jr. was nowhere to be seen, he was lost in the crowd looking for a boat with Milton Long. They had no success so far due to Lightoller's rule.

Lifeboat 4 left Titanic at 1:55 a.m. with only about 45 seats occupied, with the intention of loading more. It was the sixteenth to be launched and Quartermaster Walter Perkins was put in command, sliding down the falls to board.

At 1:57, Captain Smith released Jack Phillips and Harold Bride from duty.

"You can do nothing more, look out for yourselves."

Hearing his orders, Bride prepared to leave and was amazed that Phillips was refusing to stop sending distress calls.

"Come ON!" he cried. "We're going to be eating sand for breakfast!"

But his yells fell on deaf ears. The sudden arrival of a stoker soon snapped him out of it. He grabbed for Phillips’ lifejacket and soon found himself picking a fight with Bride, who grabbed the nearest object he find and repeatedly hit his head. He fell to the floor unconscious.

"Oh my God," he cried. "I think I've killed him!"

Meanwhile, at Collapsible C on the starboard side, Ismay was helping several other passengers from Third Class, including Salini Yasbeck, Hilda Maria Hellström, Frankie Goldsmith and his mother. Quartermaster Rowe took charge of this boat. Frankie wanted Alfred Rush to join him, but Al said:

"No! I'm staying here with the men!"

Mr. Goldsmith reached down and patted his son on the shoulder and said, "So long, Frankie, I’ll see you later."

They were appalled to see Ismay and William Carter quickly climbing aboard.

Purser McElroy took charge of lowering the boat. Ismay did not meet his eyes, nor Murdoch's or anyone else's.

"Take them down," he said to McElroy.

Collapsible C was the seventeenth to be launched at 2:00 in the morning with 39 seats occupied. Titanic now had twenty minutes to live.

"No, I did not see any," said Bruce Ismay of the others in defense of his escape. "And I could only assume that the other passengers had gone to the other end of the ship."

As his boat lowered, it rubbed against Titanic's side due to the strong list to port. At this point, the well deck was underwater along with the majority of the forecastle.

By 2:03, the band was beginning to play their final pieces, starting with "Songe d'Automne" by Archibald Joyce. 30 people were standing around them, listening to them play. Hartley smiled. Maybe they did listen after all.

Back at Collapsible D, some of the women were stoic, while others were overwhelmed by emotion and had to be helped into the boats. Tommy, Ara, Massimo and Fabrizio had left for the starboard side while the Gundersens stayed behind, looking up at the Collapsible boat on the deckhouse roof. Rose, however, was refusing to budge an inch.

"I don't care what they say, I am not going without you."

"Please, Rose you have to go," pleaded Jack.

"For once, I actually agree with you, Mr. Dawson," said an unmistakable voice.

Rose was shocked to see Cal standing before them. She stepped instinctively to Jack.

"How did you find us?" she said trying to show some courage.

"Simple. We followed you here. But right now, you could use an extra coat."

He took off his coat and placed it over Rose's pink jacket. She didn't know what to say other than an odd "Thank you."

"Better hurry," said Cal. "They're almost full."

"What about Jack?" asked Rose, not caring about what he was going to do to him anymore.

"I have made an arrangement with Mr. Murdoch on the other side of the ship. Jack and I can get off safely."

"See?" said Jack. "I've got my own boat to catch."

"Promise me that you'll be safe..." pleaded Rose to both Cal and Jack. "That you'll both be safe."

"Absolutely," smiled Cal. "Now, hurry... the boat's almost full. Get in."

Before Rose could say another word, Lightoller grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the boat. She reached out for Jack and her fingers brushed his for a moment. Then she found herself heading towards the boat in a line of other women. It was all a rush and a blur.

The crew began to lock arms and form a line to prevent men from getting onboard. Lightoller fired warning shots and Wilde threatened others with his revolver. Jane Hoyt and Irene Harris boarded the boat and Rose followed them. Moody called for one more lady to board and he was staring at Caroline Brown and Edith Evans, who said:

"You go first. You have children waiting at home."

Caroline stepped in.

"I'll see you get into the next boat," Colonel Gracie offered.

"Thank you," smiled Edith.

"Lower away!" shouted Lightoller.

The time was 2:05. Collapsible D was the eighteenth boat to go and the last to be launched from Titanic. Collapsible D was launched with 24 seats occupied. With a sudden jerk, the boat started to lower. Jack, Cal, Mr. Thayer, Colonel Gracie, the mystery writer Jacques Futrelle among others, watched their companions fall slowly out of their sight. 

"So," said Jack. "I'm guessing there's no arraignment, is there?"

"No, there is," Cal said smugly. "Not that I can guarantee you a place in the boat."

But Jack knew that Cal couldn't be so smug and condescending all the time. Surely there had to be at least one speck of goodness behind that icy heart of his.

"Do you really love her? Because I know she doesn't love you back."

"Don't be absurd, of course she does."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say your heart is more into power and capitalism, things I'm far too humble about to even care."

Down below Rose saw their conversation. She was too far to hear what they were saying properly, but she could tell it wasn't good. Her view began to blur with tears, her heart and mind telling her that this was going to be the last time she was ever going to see him.

What happened next was the most impulsive moment of her life, though some would call it the stupidest decision she ever made. She lunged across the women next to her, reached for the gunwale to climb it,  hurled herself out of the boat to the rail of the A-Deck promenade, catching it, and scrambling over the rail. She was back on the ship while the boat was continuing down.

"ROSE!!"

Jack spun from the rail and ran for the nearest way down to A-Deck, right into the Grand Staircase.

Cal too had seen her jump. He realized now that he had lost Rose forever. She is willing to die for this man, this gutter scum, he thought as he chased after Jack. But in a few short moments, he was overwhelmed by a rage so all-consuming that it eclipsed all thought.

Jack banged through the doors to the Boat Deck foyer and he sprinted down the stairs. He saw her coming into the A-Deck foyer, running toward him, Cal's long coat flying out behind her as she ran. They met at the bottom of the stairs, and collide in an embrace.

"Rose, Rose, you're so stupid, you're such an idiot-- HOW COULD YOU DO THIS!! YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO STAY IN THE DAMN BOAT!!"

Through her tears, Rose found her voice.

"I saw that-I---Well, you jump, I jump right?"

And all the while he was kissing her and holding her as tightly as he could.

But just then, the horrible, monstrous beast formerly known as the once composed Caledon Hockley came up to the railing. Looking down, he saw them locked in their embrace. Lovejoy came up behind Cal, putting a restraining hand on him.

"She's made her decision," he said to him.

If I cannot have her, then no one shall.

Cal whipped around, grabbing the pistol from Lovejoy's waistband in one cobra-fast move. He ran along the rail and down the stairs. As he reached the landing above them, he raised the gun. Screaming in rage, he opened fire. The carved cherub at the foot of the center railing exploded, sending splinters to Jack and Rose's way. Feeling the splinters crashing against his shirt (and thankful that Cal had missed) Jack pulled Rose toward the stairs going down to B-Deck Cal fired again, running down the steps toward them. A bullet blew a divot out of the oak paneling behind Jack's head as he pulled Rose down the next flight of stairs.

"Come on, we gotta move!" he kept encouraging her.

Rose never imagined in all her life that Cal would go this far. Her mind was rushing with questions. Was he trying to kill him, her or both? With Jack dragging her, she was not about to stay and find out. Her adrenaline was pumping faster than it had gone before.

If she had stayed, she could have chuckled over the sight of Cal slipping on the ruined head of the cherub statue. But then, she would be dead in a minute.

They were out of sight when Cal got up and went over to retrieve it.

Two shots and three floors later, they reached the Reception Room. The bottom of the Grand Staircase was flooded seven feet deep. The wicker chairs of the reception area danced in the swirling water. Jack and Rose raced down the stairs two at a time and ran straight into the water, fording across the room to where the floor was sloping up, until they reached dry footing at the entrance to the dining saloon. The deck was tilting so much that the furniture was starting to slide, so they only had to go a few yards before they were out of the water.

Cal reeled down the stairs. He got to the bottom, and looked across the water to the dining saloon. Jack and Rose had vanished into thin air.

The water was swirling up around his feet and he retreated up the stairs a couple of steps. Around him the woodwork groaned and creaked and all he had to say was:

"Enjoy your time together!!"

This he spoke as he gestured to the empty room. Cal saw Lovejoy coming down next to him. He suddenly remembered a funny little memory and started to laugh.

"What is so funny?" asked Lovejoy.

"I put the diamond in my coat pocket," said Cal softly. "And I put my coat... on her."

He turns to Lovejoy with a sickly expression, his eyes glittering.

"And if we want to buy ourselves a place on the last boat, I suggest we go and get it."

"Mr. Hockley, you can't seriously suggest hunting for them in this water. Even if they do find the diamond and get off, they will have enough to start a new life for themselves."

"They deserve each other," said Cal with madness in his voice. "Then again, they won't be able to love anymore…if they're dead."

Lovejoy was not the least bit surprised.

"You are going to kill them aren't you?"

"She loves him more than me," the peacefully unhinged Cal replied. "But with the diamond, I will not be needing her anymore."

"But think of her mother!"

"Think of our lives!"

Lovejoy thought about his options. Together, he and his master slogged into the water, which was now up to their waists, crossing the freezing pool that was once a grand reception area to the dining saloon. As they came out of the water a tea trolley trundled toward him through the doors of the dining saloon and rolled into the water with a splash.

Lovejoy and Cal entered the room. The deck was noticeably slanted and there was the occasional crash of china as objects slid or rolled off the tables. Cal and Lovejoy moved among the tables and ornate columns, searching... listening... their eyes tracking rapidly. It was a sea of tables, and they could be anywhere. Another serving trolley rolled downhill, bumping into tables and pillars.

Cal glanced behind him. The water was following him into the room, advancing in a hundred feet wide tide. The reception room was now a rolling lake, and the grand staircase was submerged up to the first landing. Monstrous groans echoed through the ship.

Lovejoy moved over one row and looks along the tables.

To search the entire room will take too long. He thought. Seconds count.

Lovejoy aimed the pistol at one of the ornate window screens and fired, catching Cal off guard.

The bullet shattered the porthole glass beyond, which blew in with a blast of water.

A firehose column of water thick as a telephone pole roared into the dining room, knocking tables and chairs flying. The water blast cleared a large area of the room.

Lovejoy fired again and another horizontal water column thundered in, scattering furniture. Over the roar of water came a woman's shriek and Rose appeared, stumbling out of the freezing spray.

Cal took the gun and moved rapidly toward her, keeping the gun aimed. And that was when Jack tackled him from the side. They slammed together into a table, crashing over it, and toppling to the floor. Jack jammed his knee down on Cal's hand, breaking his grip on the pistol, and Jack kicked it away. Then Rose joined the fight by giving Lovejoy a well-aimed knife to his ankle, causing him to fall to his knees. She stabbed him in the kneecap, the upper thigh, the stomach and where his appendix was before plunging the knife into where his heart was.

"See if you like this, you dour undertaker!" she roared.

Rose was just about to bring the knife into Lovejoy's head when she heard a rumbling sound behind her and turned. The grand piano was rolling right toward her like a speeding car. She jumped aside just in time.

Cal, recovering from his blows, remembered a single-shot derringer from Lovejoy's boot. He came up, aiming it at Jack. But Jack saw the gun, and beyond it the rolling piano. Cal sensed it at the last instant, spinning. The piano hit a wooden column, splintering it. A big piece of the column kicked out and flew through the air, knocking Cal to the deck. A moment later the piano hit him, with the pedals shoveling him along the floor like a bulldozer. Cal was dragged under the piano all the way down into the water, where he submerged out of sight. A low chord boomed out as the water struck the harp inside the piano. Then it rolled on like a submerging submarine. By the time he regained his surroundings, Jack and Rose were gone and Lovejoy was bleeding profusely. Now with his own life at stake, he swam his way through the reception area and up the grand staircase. 

Jack and Rose meanwhile, had entered the galley, which was a chaos of clattering metal. Pots, pans, crockery and utensils were all falling and sliding across the floor. Rose and Jack slipped and skidded on the skittering cookware and broken crockery. The din was incredible. An entire rack of bread-trays toppled, and metal trays slid toward them across the floor. Jack stepped on one and his feet flew out from under him. He fell and slid the length of the room. Rose ran back and helped him up. They continued on, making it out of the cacophony of the galley.

"The ship's going fast..." said Jack. "We've gotta keep moving."

At 2:07, the power started to dim, and the last distress call was sent from Titanic. Phillips and Bride were unsure if they were sending any more messages and quickly left the Marconi room.

Captain Edward J. Smith performed his last act as the commander of a doomed ship. He told the crew members on the deckhouse roof to save themselves and to do their best for the women and children.

A young steerage mother, Anna Sigrid Maria Danbom and her baby Gilbert, came up to him.

"Captain?" she asked in a meek Swedish accent.

Smith turned to face her.

"Please tell me; where should me and my baby go? Please."

Smith wanted very much to say "take a lifeboat"...but only if there had been more.

Though to be honest, if there had been more boats aboard, they would have been met with a haphazard fate in the final plunge. However, if Smith and his officers had known that there were lifeboats for everyone, the crew on the port side might have been less discriminating about whom they loaded, and perhaps more people would have been saved. But, of course, such things only exist in alternate universes.

Without another word, he descended the sloping deck to the bridge. By the time he entered the wheelhouse, he was wading in over a foot of water. This was the last time most remembered seeing Captain Smith.

To this day, the port of Southampton remains divided over whether the beloved figurehead had been drinking at the dinner party that George and Eleanor Widener hosted in his honor. Did he show a curious lack of initiative during the early stages of the evacuation because he was drunk, or simply in shock over what had happened? Generally, history has been kind to Captain Smith in this matter. Many people had heroic final memories of him. Since most witnesses last saw him entering the partly flooded wheelhouse, it was a common assumption that he was taking his rightful place at the bridge to die with his ship. However, there are those who claim to have seen him after that. Harold Bride said he saw Smith dive from the Boat Deck as Titanic dipped forward and a wave washed aft. Entrée Cook J. Maynard was convinced that the Captain swam to the overturned Collapsible B, but was unable to hold onto it long enough for others to pull him aboard. Stoker Harry Senior was widely quoted in the newspapers as having seen Captain Smith swim up to Collapsible B with a baby in his arms and hand it aboard before disappearing. Perhaps the strangest story came from Captain Peter Pryall, who claimed to have met Edward J. Smith on a Baltimore street in July of 1912. Smith seemed distracted, ill at ease, and did not stop to talk with Pryall, who was generally considered a reliable witness by his peers.

But all rumors aside, the fact was that he simply just died.

There's a poem about the interesting turn of fates for Smith and Ismay that was written by the playwright Ben Hecht two days later. Here's how it went:

The Captain stood where a Captain should
For the Law of the Sea is grim;
The Owner romped while the ship was swamped
And no law bothered him.
The Captain stood where the Captain should
When a Captain's ship goes down
But the Owner led when the women fled,
For an Owner must not drown.
The Captain sank as a man of Rank,
While his Owner turned away;
The Captain's grave was his bridge and brave,
He earned his seaman's pay.
To hold your place in the ghastly face of Death on the Sea at Night
Is a Seaman's job, but to flee with the mob
Is an Owner's Noble Right.

At about 2:12, Collapsibles A and B were freed from the deckhouse roof. Lightoller and Seaman Hemming managed to drop B onto the port side of the Boat Deck, where it landed face down and injured the operators. Men on the starboard side tried sliding A down a ramp of oars that only snapped under its weight. Murdoch saw the water rising and eventually, he and Lightoller decided not to launch either collapsibles from the davits. There were going to have to float them off when Titanic went under for the last time.

Jack Thayer, still looking for his family, and with Milton by his side, was now on the edge of a crowd that tried to avoid the rising water.

"Occasionally there had been a muffled thud or deadened explosion within the ship," he said of the immense stress within the structure. "Now, without warning she seemed to start forward, moving forward and into the water at an angle of about fifteen degrees. This movement with the water rushing up toward us was accompanied by a rumbling roar, mixed with more muffled explosions. It was like standing under a steel railway bridge while an express train passes overhead mingled with the noise of a pressed steel factory and wholesale breakage of china."

Fabrizio, Ara, Massimo and Tommy joined a soaking wet Cal and dozens of other steerage men at Collapsible A, where Murdoch, Wilde and McElroy were no longer in control. The crowd was threatening to rush the boat. They pushed and jostled, yelling and shouting at the officers. The pressure from behind pushed them forward, and one guy fell off the edge of the deck into the water less than ten feet below.

"Will you give us a chance TO LIVE ALREADY?!" screamed Tommy.

"Try to get past me and I'll SHOOT!" threatened Murdoch.

"YOU LIMEY BASTARD!"

Tommy prepared to lunge for Murdoch, but Fabrizio was quick to hold him back. Cal marched up to him, shaking water from his hair.

"We had a deal, William!"

Murdoch, remembering his morals, threw his money back at the arrogant gentleman.

"Your money won't be able to save you anymore than it can save me," he said. "NOW GET BACK!"

He pushed Cal back. This gave Massimo, who was standing next to Tommy such a fright, that he shoved him from behind. Wilde shot the first man, and seeing Tommy coming forward, fired a bullet into his chest. Tommy collapsed, and Fabrizio grabbed him, holding him in his arms, trying to revive him. Ara and a guilty Massimo

"Tommy! Please don't! No, Tom!"

He looked up at his friend's killer with equally murderous eyes.

"Bastardo!"

Seeing Tommy lying there brought back an unmerry memory from two Christmas Eves ago when his wife Mary and his sons Richard and Archie died from scarlet fever. The pain, coupled by the sight of Tommy's blood spilling onto the deck was too overwhelming and Wilde, his strong demeanor starting to break, could not find it in his heart to live any longer. All he wanted now was to be with Mary and the boys again...in death. Leaving behind his four other children would not be a very heartbreaking task, but it was, in a pretty tragic way, his own way of making them understand what he went through. So why should he die? There were only two boats left and maybe if there were more, he too would survive.

But his decision was made.

"Gentlemen," he said to Murdoch and everyone else through brave tears. "Each man for himself. Good-bye."

He turned the gun to his own head...directly at his right temple...Murdoch reached out to shout:

"Henry!"

The gun fired. Some of the blood fell on the deck, while some of it fell with him in the water.

After five seconds of mourning, Murdoch, McElroy and the rest of the crew resumed action.

"Get this boat attached to the falls!" the First Officer ordered.

Cal was about to race forward, when he heard a small sound like the whine of a child calling for it's mother. He turned to his left fast and in an alcove, he saw a small girl, Rebecca Le Ray, who was no more than eight. He stared at the sad sight of this poor unfortunate child and his heart melted, almost reminding him of Rose. And so, feeling sorry for her, he turned to Lovejoy.

"I couldn't possibly leave her."

"When did you did become so sympathetic to the unfortunate?" Lovejoy asked quizzically.

"About two minutes ago. Everyone's lives matters now, and she's the first."

He picked up Rebecca and rushed over to McElroy.

"Sir! I have a child! Please I have a child! I'm all she has in the world."

McElroy nodded curtly and pushed him and Lovejoy into the boat. The purser spun with his gun, brandishing it in the air to keep the other men back. Cal and Lovejoy got into Collapsible A, holding the little girl. He took a seat next to August Wennerström, who was trying to help some Swedish girls into the boat.

On the other side, Lightoller observed the water rising at a rapid pace.

"No use attaching them to the falls," he said. "We'll have to float them off when she goes down."

He and the rest of the men, including Moody, who had suffered a head wound from the falling boat, went to work trying to upright Collapsible B...

But any attempt at successfully doing so would take a lot more time than what Titanic had.

Meanwhile, Jack and Rose were racing through the galley, through the doors past the baker's shop and into the Second Class Dining Saloon. They rushed up the stairs all the way out to the Boat Deck to find Thomas Andrews walking forward.

"Mr. Andrews!" said Rose, breathlessly. "Will you at least make a try for it?"

"I plan to go with Smith when she goes under," said Andrews, a bit morbid in his tone. "But I feel that I should stay. I'm story that I could not build a stronger ship for all of us."

And he walked away. Somehow in their hearts, Jack and Rose knew that there would be no hope left for any of them.

"Would you like to stay and pray?" asked Rose.

"I'd rather stay and live for as long as possible," said Jack with determination. "If I die, I would be more than happy to die with you."

"Sounds good to me," smiled Rose.

For his last song, Bandleader Wallace Hartley chose the Propior Deo version of “Nearer My God to Thee”, a hymn he had already selected for his own funeral. He once told a friend that if he could play any song while on a sinking ship, it would be that song. The music struck a chord for everyone who heard it.

Although generally assumed that the last piece was "Nearer my God To Thee", some people question this. Music scholars point out that the hymn is sung to different melodies in England and America. Even in England, the tune differs between Episcopalians and Methodists. Harold Bride spoke of hearing "Autumn" as the last piece. This Episcopal hymn would also have been appropriate, since it contained a reference to being saved from drowning. A third, more obscure suggestion was "Songe d'Automne" by Archibald Joyce, a popular song in England that year, which would have been in keeping with Captain Smith's original order for lively music. However, there are two strong arguments that favor "Nearer My God to Thee" as the closing number. One is that most of the survivors who claimed to have heard this song were British, suggesting a unified perspective on the subject. Interestingly enough, the hymn was also sung by the passengers onboard another doomed vessel six years earlier, aboard the SS Valencia. By the time that the band played this hymn, Hartley and the other musicians, along with the other passengers and crew, surely knew what fate had in store for them.

Captain Edward Smith’s last moments would become the subject of legend for years to come.

Thomas Andrews was famously seen by Steward John Stewart, standing before the painting of Plymouth Harbor in the First Class Smoking Room. However, he was there to collect his thoughts. He may have thrown some deck chairs overboard and jumped off the ship himself.

Also in the smoking room was W. T. Stead, reading a novel.

No one would ever know how Ida and Isidor Straus met their end.

Nor John and Sarah Chapman, who stayed aboard.

Benjamin Guggenheim sat in a chair as the A-Deck foyer began to flood. He took one sip of his whiskey and waited for the end.

Hudson, Bess and Loraine Allison sang along to the song as they waited for the final plunge.

Jack Thayer and Milton Long said their goodbyes before climbing over the railing and slid down the side of the ship. They never saw each other again.

Edith Coarse Evans never got off on the next boat. But in some sense of irony, she swam to Collapsible A as it drifted off, but the submerging made it difficult for her to stand and she died within minutes. Her body was then unloaded.

John Hugo Ross, who is believed to have said "It will take more than an iceberg to get me out of bed," apparently died in his sleep.

Robert W. Daniel's champion bulldog Gamin de Pycombe, jumped into the sea with some of the other dogs that were onboard the ship. They wouldn't be as lucky as those who got off into the boats with their owners.

The Guarantee Group of nine men went their separate ways, either helping the crew or trying to save themselves.

Roderick Chisholm, Harland and Wolff's chief draughtsman, would never benefit from his work on the lifeboats he designed and stayed aboard until the last.

Rhoda Abbott jumped off the boat deck with Rossmore and Eugene huddled tightly around her waist. But when she surfaced, her sons were nowhere to be seen.

Olaus hugged Bjorn and said their goodbyes as an icy wave swept aft, washing them away.

Richard Norris Williams II stayed aboard the ship with his father Charles until nearly the end, watching the disaster unfold around them with a curious detachment.

The men furiously cut away the falls that still attached Collapsible A to it's davit. Fabrizio removed the lifebelt from Tommy's body and struggled to put it on as the water rose around him. Taking his jack knife, he assisted the crew in cutting away the falls.

On the other side, Collapsible B, still overturned, was picked up by water. Working frantically, the men tried to detach it from the falls so the ship wouldn't drag it under. The water swept around Lightoller's feet. He dove into the sea as it rose past the bridge toward the wheelhouse.

"Striking the water was like a thousand knives being driven into one's body," he recalled, "and, for a few moments, I completely lost grip of myself."

His first instinct was to swim for the crow's nest, but then he remembered that he must get completely clear of the ship. Something was dragging him down. He realized that he was still carrying the large Webley revolver with which he had maintained order on the boat deck. Without hesitation, he pulled it from his pocket and let it sink. Instantly, rushing water sucked him against the big stokehold vent at the base of the forward funnel. Even as it dragged him under, he was blown free in a belch of hot air from a steam explosion somewhere inside the ship. He came up surrounded by debris and floating bodies, fought away from the suction of another grating, and grabbed a rope. The rope was connected to the overturned Collapsible B, the boat he had just freed from the deckhouse roof. The boat was swept off the ship, serving as an escape craft for a hardy few. Men started diving in, swimming to stay with it.

Collapsible A, swamped by rising sea, was released from the falls and drifted away, saving some lives and providing others with a quieter place to die.

For everyone else, there would be no escape from the foundering Titanic and the freezing water that consumed her.

All around them, the ship was galvanized into a swivet. But Hartley didn’t care, they had done their duty. His final hymn was a prayer for everyone.

"Gentlemen," he said. "It's been a privilege playing with you tonight."

There is no question of the band's heroism in playing until the end, but survivors disagreed as to just when "the end" may have been.

Some said the last song came as the bow made its forward plunge, and that the water was up to the musicians' knees. However, since they were playing just aft of the First Class entrance, near the second funnel, the angle of the deck would have been too steep by the time the water reached this point. First Class passenger A.H. Barkworth apologetically recalled, "I do not wish to detract from the bravery of anybody, but I might mention that when I first came on deck the band was playing a waltz. The next time I passed where the band had been stationed, the members of it had thrown down their instruments and were not to be seen." On the other hand, Steward Edward Brown, who was busy saving Collapsible A from going down with the ship, simply observed, "I do not remember hearing them stop."

At this point, Titanic now had five minutes left to live.

Men were swimming to Collapsible B, even though it was overturned. Jack Thayer was immediately sucked underwater and by the time he trashed to the surface, he was about 40 yards from Titanic. Her submerged lights still burned, turning the water bright. Some of them actually reached the boat, but they were too exhausted to save himself and those who were pulled aboard were Mr. Daly, farmer Victor Sunderland, Steward Sid Daniels and Trimmer Ernest Allen. Assistant Cook John Collins saw a woman frozen in terror clutching two small children. He and a steward each grabbed a child, breaking the mother's spell and getting her to jump with them. They all tried to swim for Collapsible B...then the wave reached them and washed over them. The child was swept from Collins' arms. The steward, the other child and the mother all disappeared as well. By the time he reached the overturned lifeboat, he was all alone.

Harold Bride was swept from the roof of the Deck House with Collapsible B and remembered the odd sensation of washing up beneath the overturned lifeboat as it floated away from Titanic.

"I was in the boat, and the boat was upside down, and I was under it. And I remember realizing that I was wet through, and that whatever happened I must not breathe, for I was under water. I know I had to fight for it, and I did. How I got out from under the boat I do not know, but I felt a breath of air at last. There were men all around me - hundreds of them. The sea was dotted with them, all depending on their lifebelts. I felt I simply had to get away from the ship. She was a beautiful sight then."

Jack Phillips went aft, racing up the tilting ship. Lost in the crowd, and with nowhere to go but up, he presumably jumped overboard and rejoined Bride in Collapsible B.

As for Colonel Gracie, he and his friend James Clinch Smith made for the aft of the Boat Deck, running ahead of the rising water. Before they could get far, they found themselves overtaken by the pouring stream of steerage passengers. Gracie tried to evade them by jumping to the roof of the Officer's Quarters, but he fell back to be hit by the wave that splashed in from his right. He rode the wave up to the roof and this time grabbed the railing. As he hung there looking for Smith, water rushed up again and pulled the head of the ship inexorably down. Gracie went down with her, fought the suction and came up from a great depth, swimming away from the wreck as he rose, taking as long as four to five minutes to reach the surface. He found himself among four bodies.

"Possibly these had gone down to the depths as I had done," he later observed, "but did not have the lung power that I had to hold the breath and swim under water, an accomplishment which I had practiced from my school days."

Gracie tried to straddle a floating wooden crate until he noticed the overturned Collapsible B. Once he reached it, no one made any move to help him aboard until he was already halfway on.

Fabrizio and Ara were swimming for their lives, but Fabrizio's legs were soon caught under a davit. The ropes and pulleys tangled around him as the davit went under the water, and he was dragged down. Underwater, he struggled to free himself, and then kicked back to the surface. He surfaced, gasping for air in the freezing water and followed the collapsible.

Massimo, while swimming for the boat, was caught by a descending stay cable. The taut wire pulled him under. Ara, treading water near him, saw him go under for the last time. Ara looked down and nightmarishly saw the lights of the ship underneath his kicking feet. Frightened, he joined Fabrizio on his way to Collapsible A.

Collapsible A Cal noticed Colonel Astor trying to make his way to the boat with George and Harry Widener, Charles and Norris Williams, among others in tow and one of them was the mystery writer Jacques Futrelle. At their rate, they would probably be dead by the time they reached the boat. Before Cal could row to their rescue, he heard a groan.

Unfortunately, only a lucky few would be able to get away from what would come crashing down on them...something huge, buff, black and made of strong steel.

The stay cables along the top of the first forward funnel snapped, and they lashed like steel whips down into the water. Cal looked back to stare...

And the last thing Astor and those others saw, was the black band of the funnel.

The tons of steel crushed the other people beneath it as well and it's wave swept away Collapsible B. Lightoller, who narrowly avoided the falling funnel, described the scene as such:

"The terrific strain of bringing the after end of that huge hull clear out of the water, caused the expansion joint abaft No. 1 funnel to open up. (These expansion joints were found necessary in big ships to allow the ship to “work” in a seaway.) The fact that the two wire stays to this funnel, on the after part led over and abaft the expansion joint, threw on them an extraordinary strain, eventually carrying away the port wire guy, to be followed almost immediately by the starboard one. Instantly the port one parted, the funnel started to fall, but the fact that the starboard one held a moment or two longer, gave this huge structure a pull over to that side of the ship, causing it to fall, with its scores of tons, right amongst the struggling mass of humanity already in the water. It struck the water between the Engelhardt and the ship, actually missing me by inches."

The water pouring into the open end of the funnel drew in several swimmers. The funnel sank, disappearing, but...

Hundreds of tons of water started to pour down through the 30 foot hole where the funnel stood, thundering down into the belly of the ship. A whirlpool formed, a hole in the ocean, like an enormous toilet-flush. T. W. McCauley swam in a frenzy as the vortex drew him in. He was sucked down like a spider going down a drain.

Norris Williams swam from the ship, fought against the suction, struggled out of his fur coat, kicked off his shoes and managed to crawl aboard Collapsible A.

Fabrizio and Ara managed to get clear. They were going to live no matter what it took.

Then the second funnel started to fall. It toppled over to the starboard side, sut to Jack Thayer, the ship seemed to split open.

"The second funnel, large enough for two automobiles to pass through abreast, seemed to be lifted off, emitting a cloud of sparks. It looked as if it would fall on top of me. It missed me by only twenty or thirty feet. The suction of it drew me down and down struggling and swimming, practically spent. As I finally came to the surface, I put my hand over my head, in order to push away from any obstruction. My hand came against something smooth and firm with rounded shape. I looked up, and realized that it was the cork fender of one of the collapsible lifeboats, which was floating in the water bottom side up."

That boat was Collapsible B.

Charlotte Collyer watched the awful sight from the safety of Lifeboat 14, clutching Marjorie. Her recollection of the scene that stood out before her was vivid, but beautiful:

"I shall never forget the terrible beauty of the Titanic at that moment. She was tilted forward, head down, with her first funnel partly under water. To me, she looked like an enormous glow worm; for she was alight from the rising water line, clear to her stern — electric lights blazing in every cabin, lights on all the decks and lights at her mast heads. No sound reached us except the music of the band, which I seemed, strange to say, to be aware of for the first time. Oh, those brave musicians! How wonderful they were! They were playing lively tunes, ragtime, and they kept it up to the very end. Only the engulfing ocean had power to drown them into silence.  At that distance, it was impossible to recognize anyone on board, but I could make out groups of men on every deck. They were standing with arms crossed upon their chests, and with lowered heads. I am sure that they were in prayer. On the boat deck that I had just left, perhaps fifty men had come together. In the midst of them was a tall figure. This man had climbed upon a chair, or a coil of rope, so that he was raised far above the rest. His hands were stretched out, as if he were pronouncing a blessing. During the day, a priest, a certain Father Byles, had held services in the second-cabin saloon; and I think it must have been he who stood there, leading those doomed men in prayer."

In Number 6, Ruth and Maggie watched the sorry scene from the safe distance. The image was shocking, unbelievable, unthinkable. Ruth stared at the spectacle, unable to frame it or put it into any proportion. Perhaps, it was at this moment, that she truly understood what really mattered in life. And that matter was Rose. She thought about the way she treated her. She thought about the way she frowned upon everyone below her station. If they ever saw each other again, she was perfectly willing to let Rose do as she pleased.

"God almighty," whispered Maggie.

Trudy and Theresa, in a rare moment of indignity, hugged each other through leaky tears.

Mrs. Candee wondered about her friend Edward Kent, hoping the cameo of her mother that she had given to him would grant him the luck he needed to survive. Little did she know that he would not make it.

In Number 4, Madeleine worried for her husband, as did Marian and Eleanor for their own husbands and sons.

Little did Marian know that John Jr., trying balance himself on the overturned Collapsible B, was thinking about her and his father as well. He even wondered where Rose and Milton were.

Cal, Rebecca and the others aboard Collapsible A were frantically pulling away from the dying vessel. Rhoda Abbott spent most of her time worrying for the safety of her boys and she didn’t have the strength to urge them to search the waters. 

In Collapsible D, some yards away, some of the passengers hugged each other as they rowed further and further away from the screams.

In Collapsible C, Ismay turned his back on the dying ship, rowing most of the time. He was catatonic with remorse and his mind was overloaded. He could avert his eyes, but he could not block out the sounds of dying people and machinery.

"I did not wish to see her go down," he said later on. "I am glad I did not."

Jack and Rose, preferring to stay on the ship for as long as possible, were climbing down the A-Deck railing, which was jammed with a crush of people. It was a mad scramble there as people were literally clawing and scrambling over each other to get down the narrow stairs to the well deck... the only way aft.

Some gave up and threw themselves over board. One man miscalculated the jump and, because of the heavy port list, actually struck the hull of the ship fifty feet down. Others used the list to slide down the hull, scraping painfully over the hundreds of rivet heads.

Seeing that the stairs were not an option, Jack climbed over the railing and helped Rose clamber over. Then, using all his strength, he lowered her toward the deck below, holding on with one hand. She dangled and then fell in a messy flail. Jack jumped down behind her. He staggered up and they joined the human wave moving across the well deck.

One man ahead of Jack was walking like a zombie.

"Yeah though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death--"

Jack shoved past him.

"You wanna walk a little faster through that valley there buddy?"

As the Unsinkable Ship foundered, water rushed upward from the lower decks. Titanic's once-elegant grand staircase was now flooded by the sea. Water burst through the forward doors and windows of the Boat Deck, dragging people inside and cascading down the stairs like a rapids. Above them, the beautiful glass dome gave way and a Niagara of sea water thundered down into the room, blasting through the opulence. It was the Armageddon of elegance.

The flooding was horrific below decks. Walls and doors were splintered like kindling. Water roared down corridors with strong forces that ripped the doors to cabins off of their hinges. Cora and her parents came to the aft end of the stern just in time to see the empty davits from the Boat Deck. It seemed clear to them that they had to stay on the ship for as long as possible. But in the end, it would be too late for them and the Sage and Goodwin families.

To think, Frederick Goodwin thought as the ship tilted. That we have left our lives in Melksham for this!

On the well deck stairs going up to the poop deck, Rose and Jack struggled to climb as the ship continued to tilt. The stairs were almost vertical. Baker Joughin placed a hand squarely on Rose's butt and shoves her up onto the deck.

"My apologies, Miss," he slurred.

Hundreds of people were already on the poop deck, and more were pouring up every second. Jack and Rose clung together as they struggled across the tilting deck.

Now it was 2:15 a.m. and the ship has only five minutes to live. Titanic's stern rises higher, lifting the mighty bronze wing propellers out of the water.

Inside Titanic, every loose object, like cargo and furniture, no matter how big or small, began to slide forward as the sinking continued. Some thought that the boilers broke loose from their beds and rolled forward through the ship, but they were too firmly attached to come loose at any angle. They also thought that the boilers were exploding. The noises of crashing and shattering were so loud, it could be heard from all the way outside as Lawrence Beesley described it.

"It was partly a roar, partly a groan, partly a rattle, and partly a smash, and it was not a sudden roar as an explosion would be: it went on successively for some seconds, possibly fifteen to twenty, as the heavy machinery dropped down to the bottom (now the bows) of the ship: I suppose it fell through the end and sank first, before the ship. But it was a noise no one had heard before, and no one wishes to hear again: it was stupefying, stupendous, as it came to us along the water. It was as if all the heavy things one could think of had been thrown downstairs from the top of a house, smashing each other and the stairs and everything in the way."

With no boats left, some people took matters into their own hands. They began throwing deck chairs overboard, tearing off doors and hurling them into the sea, and finding casks, crates or anything else made of wood. The idea may have been to create a wide range of things that would stay afloat after Titanic sank. In reality, this rain of heavy objects was a hazard to those rowing away in the boats. The resulting ring of debris made it extremely dangerous for the people who would later jump from the ship.

"Most written accounts were hair-raising scenes which did not actually occur," Joughin said of his experience later on, "except in the last few moments when those left behind made a mad rush towards what they considered a safer place, the poop deck."

On the stern, the Dahls struggled to climb the well deck stairs as the ship tilted. Hundreds of people were already on the poop deck as Joughin had described, and more were pouring up every second. Helga and her parents clung together as they struggled across the tilting deck. As the bow went down, the stern rose up. The passengers in the lifeboats gaped as the giant bronze propellers began to rise out of the water like gods of the deep. People were jumping from the well deck, the poop deck, the gangway doors. Some hit debris in the water and were either hurt or killed.

Jack and Rose struggled as the angle increased, with him pulling themselves from handhold to handhold. It was an Olympic challenge to climb at this rate

"Come on, Rose. We can't expect God to do all the work for us."

Filip Oscar Asplund, separated from his mother, sister Lilian and brother Felix, hugged his nine-year-old brother Gustaf as his father and brother Carl held on for dear life to the benches.

"Don't worry, little brother," he whispered in his native Swedish. "It will be over soon."

At last, Jack and Rose made it to the stern rail, right at the base of the flagpole. They gripped the rail, jammed in between other people. It was the very spot where Jack pulled her back onto the ship, just two nights...and a lifetime...ago.

This is where we first met, was all Rose thought.

Then she turned to look at the faces of the doomed. A young mother clutching her five year old son, the Dahl family, clinging together stoically. Helga looks at her briefly, and her eyes are infinitely sad. She could hardly believe that so many from Third Class were doomed to die. Then she looked to Father Byles, who was praying.

"...and I saw new heavens and a new earth. The former heavens and the former earth had passed away and the sea was no longer. I also saw a new Jerusalem, the holy city coming down out of heaven from God, beautiful as a bride prepared to meet her husband. I heard a loud voice from the throne ring out this is God's dwelling among men. He shall dwell with them and they shall be his people and He shall be their God who is always with them. He shall wipe every tear from their eyes. And there shall be no more death or mourning, crying out or pain, for the former world has passed away."

In the darkness of the engine room. Bell was clutching his hands on to a pipe at the master breaker panel.

"Keep those breakers in!" he shouted. "Keep them in!"

Around him, men climbed through tilted cyclopean machines with electric hand-torches. It was a black hell of breaking pipes, spraying water, and groaning machinery threatening to tear right out of its bedplates. Water sprayed down, hitting the breaker panel, but Bell would not leave his post. In his stead, Peter Sloan, the chief electrician, bravely staggered upwards and kicked the breakers in, but no sooner had he did, when a huge spark of electricity coursed through his body.

Even after the ship was plunged into darkness, with a few emergency lights remaining on, Jack Thayer, squatting on Collapsible B, saw hundreds of people still onboard.

"Her deck was turned slightly toward us. We could see groups of the almost fifteen hundred people aboard, clinging in clusters or bunches, like swarming bees; only to fall in masses, pairs or singly, as the great after-part part of the ship, two hundred and fifty feet of it rose into the sky till it reached a sixty-five or seventy degree angle. Here it seemed to pause, and just hung, for what felt like minutes. Gradually she turned her deck away from us, as though to hide from our sight the awful spectacle."

Lightoller also watched from Collapsible B.

"The fore part, and up to the second funnel was by that time completely submerged, and as we watched this terribly awe-inspiring sight, suddenly all lights went out and the huge bulk was left in black darkness, but clearly silhouetted against the bright sky. Then, the next moment, the massive boilers left their beds and went thundering down with a hollow rumbling roar, through the bulk-heads, carrying everything with them that stood in their way."

What happened next was a sight that only Seaman Frank Osman could describe as such:

"After she got to a certain angle she exploded, broke in halves, and it seemed to me as if all the engines and everything that was in the after part slid out into the forward part, and the after part came up right again, and as soon as it came up right down it went again."

As Osman had described, a loud cracking report came across the water...

Near the third funnel, a man clutched the ship's rail. He stared down as the deck split right between his feet. A yawning chasm opened with a thunder of breaking steel the man was clutching the railing on the roof of the Officers' Mess. He watched in horror as the ship's structure ripped apart right in front of him. He gaped down into a widening maw, seeing straight down into the bowels of the ship, amid a booming concussion like the sound of artillery. People falling into the widening crevasse looked like dolls. The stay cables on the funnel parted and snapped across the decks like whips, ripping off davits and ventilators. A man was hit by a whipping cable and tossed overboard. Another cable smashed the rail next to the man and it ripped free. He fell backward into the pit of jagged metal. Fires, explosions and sparks lit the yawning chasm as the hull split down through nine decks to the keel. The sea poured into the gaping wound.

The stern half of the ship, almost four hundred feet long, fell back toward the water. On the poop deck everyone screamed as they felt themselves plummeting. The sound went up like the roar of fans at a baseball stadium when a run is scored.

Swimming in the water directly under the stern a few unfortunates shrieked as they saw the keel coming down on them like God's boot. The massive stern section fell back almost level, thundering down into the sea. But surprisingly, no one nearby heard a splash.

Jack and Rose, clutching the flagpole, felt the split as well, and screamed as they went down.

Everyone on the poop deck saw this as a salvation.

"We're saved!" the Sage children cried.

But alas, it was a very short salvation.

John Podesta, watching from Lifeboat 3, held on to the faint hope that at least the stern was unsinkable.

"I should imagine we were about 500 to 600 yards away from the ship, watching her settling down – she was going down at the head all the time. But there was once when she seemed to hang in the same place for a long time, so naturally we thought the watertight doors would hold her."

And of course, they didn't.

"Before the darkness came," said Charlotte Collyer of what followed. "I saw hundreds of human bodies clinging to the wreck or leaping into the water. The Titanic was like a swarming bee-hive; but the bees were men; and they had broken their silence now. Cries more terrible than I had ever heard rang in my ears. I turned my face away; but looked ’round the next instant and saw the second half of the great ship slip below the surface as easily as a pebble in a pond. I shall always remember that last moment as the most hideous of the whole disaster."

Pulled down by the awesome weight of the flooded bow, the buoyant stern began to tilt upwards. They felt the rush of ascent as the fantail angled up again. Everyone was clinging to benches, railings, ventilators... anything to keep themselves from sliding.

The stern went up and up and up some more, past 45 degrees, then past sixty. Jack and Rose climbed onto the railing. A bleak faced man, having given up all hope, removed his lifejacket and threw it overboard. People started to fall, sliding and tumbling. They skidded down the deck, screaming and flailing to grab onto something. They wrenched other people loose and pulled them down as well. There was a pile-up of bodies at the forward rail. Mrs. Dahl was the first to fall, then her husband, and finally Helga with a piercing scream as she made a hard splash into the water.

The stern hung upright, seemingly motionless. It was now a rumbling black monolith standing against the stars. It hung there like that for a long grace note, its buoyancy stable. High above the water, Joughin clutched the rail and took one last drink, fortifying himself against the inevitable. People near him, who didn't climb over, hung from the railing, their legs dangling over the long drop. They fell one by one, plummeting down the vertical face of the poop deck. Some of them bounced horribly off deck benches and ventilators. For many, it was impossible to hold on any longer. Rose, now in a similar position as she was two nights ago, saw not stars in front of her, but a huge wall of water from her perspective. She knew it was the ocean waiting to claim them, but from where she was at this angle, Titanic was about to enter a whole new world that she would never return from.

Then, after a few moments, the last of Titanic slowly began to slide beneath the surface, dropping like an elevator at a snail's pace. Joughin, Jack and Rose stared at the water coming up at them, and they gripped his hands harder on the rail. Because he was drunk, he could have sworn that the stern was capsizing to port. Below him, the poop deck was disappearing. The plunge gathered speed...the boiling surface engulfed the docking bridge, rushing up the last thirty feet.

"Fortunately I was all alone, when the big list to port occurred," said Joughin later on in life. "I was able to straddle the Starboard rail (on A deck) and stepped off as the ship went under. I had expected suction of some kind, but felt none. At no time was my head underwater, it may have been wetted, but no more. I just kept moving my arms and legs and kept in an upright position. No trick at all with a life-belt on."

Jack, with his quick thinking, had other plans. He was gripping Rose's hand as tightly as he could and she was doing the same.

"Take a deep breath and hold it right before we go into the water. The ship will suck us down. Kick for the surface and keep kicking. Don't let go of my hand. We're gonna make it Rose. Trust me."

She stared at the water coming up at them, and gripped his hand harder.

"I trust you!"

The world of the undersea was coming right towards them at tremendous pace. Jack prepared himself as it grew closer.

"Ready?"

It came closer....

"READY?!"

Now it was at their faces.

"NOW!!!"

Rose gave a breath that almost sounded like a scream and she was hit with a surge of water.

The stern descended into the calm sea. The name "Titanic" disappeared, and the tiny figures of Rose, Jack, Charles Joughin and fifteen hundred other people on board vanished under the water.

Where the ship stood, now there was nothing. Only the black ocean.

Chapter Text

Archibald Gracie, finally coming to the surface after swimming free of the suction, found himself in the middle of a nightmare.

"Looking about me, I could see no Titanic in sight. She had entirely disappeared beneath the calm surface of the ocean and without a sign of any wave. That the sea had swallowed her up with all her precious belongings was indicated by the slight sound of a gulp behind me as the water closed over her. The length of time that I was under water can be estimated by the fact that I sank with her, and when I came up there was no ship in sight. The accounts of others as to the length of time it took the Titanic to sink afford the best measure of the interval I was below the surface....What impressed me at the time that my eyes beheld the horrible scene was a thin light- gray smoky vapor that hung like a pall a few feet above the broad expanse of sea that was covered with a mass of tangled wreckage. That it was a tangible vapor, and not a product of imagination, I feel well assured. It may have been caused by smoke or steam rising to the surface around the area where the ship had sunk. At any rate it produced a supernatural effect, and the pictures I had seen by Dante and the description I had read in my Virgil of the infernal regions, of Charon, and the River Lethe, were then uppermost in my thoughts. Add to this, within the area described, which was as far as my eyes could reach, there arose to the sky the most horrible sounds ever heard by mortal man except by those of us who survived this terrible tragedy. The agonizing cries of death from over a thousand throats, the wails and groans of the suffering, the shrieks of the terror-stricken and the awful gaspings for breath of those in the last throes of drowning, none of us will ever forget to our dying day. 'Help! Help! Boat ahoy! Boat ahoy!' and 'My God! My God!' were the heart-rending cries and shrieks of men, which floated to us over the surface of the dark waters continuously for the next hour, but as time went on, growing weaker and weaker until they died out entirely."

Jack Thayer, shivering on the swamped Collapsible B, heard the voices of those still in the water after Titanic disappeared.

"Probably a minute passed with almost dead silence and quiet. Then an individual call for help, from here, from there; gradually swelling into a composite volume of one long continuous wailing chant, from the fifteen hundred in the water all around us. It sounded like locusts on a midsummer night, in the woods in Pennsylvania. This terrible continuing cry lasted for twenty or thirty minutes, gradually dying away, as one after another could no longer withstand the cold and exposure. Practically no one was drowned, as no water was found in the lungs of those later recovered. Everyone had on a life preserver. The partially filled lifeboats standing by only a few hundred yards away never came back. Why on earth they didn’t is a mystery. How could any human being fail to heed those cries? They were afraid the boats would be swamped by people in the water."

And he was right I'm afraid. In spite of everyone shouting cries of "Please help us!", "For God's sake!", "Come back!", "Save one life!", “Don’t leave me!” and so on and so forth, nobody dared to make a move. Some would rather wait until things calmed down. Some preferred not to go back at all, like a certain Quartermaster Hitchens.

"If we go back," he told his passengers. "They'll swamp the boat and pull us right down."

"Oh you're just trying to scare us!" scoffed Maggie.

She turned to the others.

"Come on, girls! Let's grab an oar and go back!"

Before any of them could speak, Hitchens resumed his tirade.

"Are you out of your bloody mind?! We're in the middle of the North Atlantic! I'm in charge of this boat and if these people want to live or die, it's their choice."

"But there is plenty of room for more!" rebuked Maggie, taking a stand. "If you had any heart, you'd know that those are your men out there!"

"Sit down at once! My men made their choice and if they wanted to die, they should die!"

"But what about Rose?!" moaned Ruth. "She could be out there!"

"Shut your ass, you bitch!" Hitchens barked. "We've got no food, no water, no compass, no chart, nor anything else to provide them even if we did go back! So I say we leave!"

But the woman who would be posthumously known as "The Unsinkable Molly Brown" was not about to give up just yet. In a split-second, she grabbed the left side oar and aimed it in front of Hitchens' face.

"Now, look here, you stupid bastard, I have had had it up to here with your bullshit! Now you turn us back right now or I'll toss you overboard!"

Nodding in cowardice, Hitchens turned the tiller over. Mrs. Candee and Major Peuchen applauded. Trudy and Theresa smiled. Ruth seemed surprised by her strength.

"I admire your courage, Mrs. Brown. For a miner's wife, you really know how to handle certain people, including men. It's a wonder why some people look up upon you for that."

Maggie took this as a very great compliment.

"That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me, Ruth. Up till now, you reminded me very much of Louise Hill."

"Is she a friend of yours?"

"I wish she was. You may not know her, but she's practically the snobbiest woman in all of Denver. When I tried to join her Sacred Thirty-Six, she just turned me and Johnny down all because I was ill-suited to meet her standards. I just hope that after this, she'll learn to accept me. Maybe you will too."

"I think I already have," smiled Ruth. "But still, I wish Rose was here. She is a great admirer of your actions in life, after all."

"Me too, honey," sighed Maggie. "But right now, let's get moving. Those people are drowning out there."

And she was out there, on the surface, spiritually alone as she was surrounded by a mob of thrashing strangers, shrieking, screaming and clawing their way in vain to get out from the water or swim to the closest boat.

"JACK!" she cried, over and over again until she could feel her throat turning raw.

One of the band members grabbed a barrel, Felix Asplund had clutched one of the deck chairs that fell overboard, Rossmore and Eugene Abbott were searching for their mother and Mabel Skoog was drowning.

One man was pushing Rose under, trying to literally climb on top of her...senselessly trying to get out of the water, to climb onto anything.

"GET OFF OF HER!!"

Jack punched him repeatedly after saying this, he pulled her free out into the open.

"SWIM, ROSE! SWIM!"

They had to find some kind of floatation to keep them out of the water. All about them there was a tremendous wailing, screaming and moaning... a collective chorus of tormented souls like something from Dante's Inferno. Around them was nothing but black water stretching to the horizon. The sense of isolation and hopelessness was overwhelming.

"It's so cold!" Rose moaned.

"I know. I know. Help me, here. Look around. Look for something floating."

His words kept her focused, taking her mind off the wailing around them. Rose scanned the water, panting, barely able to draw a breath. She turns and saw the black French Bulldog Gamin de Pycombe swimming right at her like a sea monster in the darkness, his coal eyes bugging. He motored past her, like it was heading for Newfoundland.

Then she saw something in the water.

"What is that?"

Jack saw what she is pointing to, and they made for it together. It was a piece of wooden debris, a large wooden panel from the First Class Lounge. He pushed her up and she slithered onto it belly down. When Jack tried to get up onto the panel, it tilted and submerged, almost dumping Rose off. It was clearly only big enough to support her. He clung to it, close to her, keeping his upper body out of the water as best he could.

Their breath floats around them in a cloud as they pant from exertion. Robert Henry Butt, a saloon steward, swam toward them, homing in on the panel. Jack warned him back.

"It's just enough for this lady... you'll push it under."

"Let me try at least, or I'll die soon."

Jack raised a free hand.

"You'll die quicker if you come any closer."

"Yes. I see. Good luck to you then. God bless."

And so, Butt swam away.

"Now all we have to do is wait," said Jack.

But it would be a very long time before either of them would get the chance.

Nearby, aboard Collapsible A, men were clinging to the sides in the water. Others, swimming, were drawn to it as their only hope. Cal, standing in the boat, slaps his oar in the water, warning them back.

Fabrizio, exhausted and near the limit, almost made it to the boat. Ara, still young and strong, climbed onboard without anyone noticing, but Cal clubbed Fabrizio with the oar, cutting open his scalp.

"You don't... understand... I have... to get... to America."

"It's that way," said a cold-hearted Cal as he pointed with the oar.

Cal, terrified and barely seeing him, continued to lay about him with the oar, driving other men back. Ara would never know what had happened until much later.

"There is your beautiful nightdress gone," Lady Duff-Gordon said when she saw the ship go down.

Her Lifeboat 1, with only twelve of it's forty seats occupied, was 200 yards away from the screaming swimmers. Leading Fireman Hendrickson, slightly annoyed by her comment, wasn't about to sit around for a miracle.

"Shouldn't we do something?" he asked.

Lucile seemed afraid that a rescue attempt would swamp them, but it was her husband Sir Cosmo who spoke on her behalf.

"It's out of the question. We'll only capsize."

"You're right," said Mr. Stengal. "I suggest we head towards that light in the distance."

As they headed off towards the light, Fireman Pusey complained of losing his kit, so Sir Cosmo then offered a five pound check to the crew as compensation. He would later spend the rest of his life denying that he bribed them.

Lifeboat 6 was not the only boat in which opinions were divided over whether to row back to the site of the wreck, Gladys Cherry described the events in a letter to Seaman Thomas Jones who was in command of Lifeboat 8:

”The dreadful regret I shall always have, and I know you share with me, is that we ought to have gone back to see whom we could pick up, but if you remember, there was only an American lady, my cousin, self, and you who wanted to return. I could not hear the discussion very clearly, as I was at the tiller, but everyone forward and the three men refused. But I shall always remember your words, ‘Ladies, if any of us are saved remember I wanted to go back. I would rather drown with them than leave them.’”

Ella White noticed that the stewards were smoking.

"I think you should be ashamed of yourselves! Smoking after we've lost our ship! Have you no decency?"

One of the stewards could not have cared any less, after taking a puff from his cigar, he blew some smoke in her face and yelled:

"If you don't stop talking through that hole in your face there will be one less in the boat!"

Ella crouched down in her seat and remained quiet for the next hour and a half. Beneath her, the sound of imploding metal could still be heard from the bottom of sea.

At 2:25 a.m., two and one-third miles below the surface, the broken halves of Titanic struck solid ground on the edge of an undersea valley, southeast of the Grand Banks. The impact could only be an alien disruption to a silent world of complete darkness and intense pressure. The creatures of the deep were disturbed by the sounds of many parts bouncing, settling or crushing. No human eyes or ears could ever bring back the tale of this moment.

The bow section fell almost straight down, the 35,000 tons of steel, already filled with water, accelerated to perhaps 20 or 30 knots. The more fragile external structures, such as the foremast and the wheelhouse, sheered off and fell straight down. At some point, this half of the ship began to level, angling in its fall, trailing furniture and other unattached debris on a current that pushed in through the Grand Staircase and out the gaping broken end. The bow slammed into the sea bed half a mile north of where it sank, its prow two-thirds buried in the clay. The impact caused the hull to buckle outward at the Forward Well Deck, the inner pressure blowing out a piece of steel from the port side. Everything aft of the bridge landed flat, sinking only a few feet into the bottom. The abrupt stop created a violent internal current that blasted out many windows and doors, crushed the Grand Staircase landing by landing, and partially caved in all of B-Deck aft of the staircase.

The stern section fell mangled and downward, ripping apart with increasing speed and pressure. The weight of the engines and other machinery pushed its fall. All of the air trapped in this section exploded outward through solid steel if there were no windows or doors available. Anyone left inside would have died by this point. Structure weakened and gaining speed, the hull and decks began peeling backward. Eventually, the drag of the broken forward end allowed the entire section to rotate, now falling aft end first. The rudder and propellers guided its falls in a spiral pattern, dropping the castoff debris to the bottom in a roughly circular field. The stern crashed into the center of this, landing at a 10 to 30 degree angle and exploding from the impact. The poop deck bent down over the hull's fantail. The strewn-about wreckage nearly covered the ocean floor.

Now at the bottom, Titanic looked more like a pile of debris than anything resembling a ship. For many, many years, her rest would be undisturbed.

Back on the surface, the lifeboats drifted aimlessly as the sounds of Titanic breaking apart underwater had died away.

On Collapsible A, Richard Norris Williams and the others aboard kept themselves alive by praying, singing, and trying to count off. In one amusing moment, Norris noticed a man in the boat with a dented bowler hat and offered to fix it for him. This man was unable to understand any language that Norris attempted and assumed that he was trying to steal the hat. Tragically as many as ten people died during the next few hours, chilled to death by the freezing water that swamped the lifeboat. Among them, Thomson Beattie died, so did Edvard Lindell, who held his wife’s wedding ring as she died of despair. It fell into the bottom of the lifeboat as his hair turned grey and his body was loaded off. His fellow Swede, August Wennerström, was very sorry to see them go. Cal was practically squinting through the darkness for anymore souls he would refuse aboard. Ara and Rebecca also did their best to stay warm.

"Where's your mama?" he asked her.

Rebecca timidly shook her head.

Then they looked over at Rhoda Abbott, who was sustaining severe frostbite in her legs from standing in 14 inches of freezing water.

"Is she your mama?" Ara asked.

"I don't think so," Rebecca spoke timidly.

Through her leaky tears, she sat down beside Rhoda and asked timidly.

"Mommy?"

Rhoda looked over and she could see Rebecca next to her. Perhaps, seeing as she was in need of someone to hold her, gradually accepted Rebecca and hugged her like she was her own child.

Although older than and not as physically fit as most of the men who shared her ordeal, Rhoda Abbott had the distinction of being the only woman to jump from Titanic and survive in the water.

Ara could only wonder where Jack was. Hopefully, he would be proud of the way he comforted that little girl who found a surrogate mother. Cal, caring less about the girl, was now captain of a swamped lifeboat. Now that everyone was gone, he was unsure of what do to.

Who knows where Rose is now, he muttered internally.

All the same, a sinking feeling was forming at the pit of his heart.

The others on Collapsible B were doing their best to stay alive as well. Lightoller, now relieved of his revolver, played captain by standing on the edge, having his passengers balance the boat against the rolling surf. Nobody made any move to help Colonel Gracie aboard until he was halfway on. Jack Thayer noticed that his watch stopped at 2:22. Harold Bride kept himself swimming by remembering which ships he and Jack Phillips had contacted by wireless and trying to figure out when one of them might reach the site of the wreck. John Collins was trying to overcome the grief from his attempt to save the steward, the two children and their mother from their watery grave. But the five men had more pressing concerns to worry about.

Gracie was offended by the cursing that he heard among the crewmen on Collapsible B. Recognizing that he was possibly the only passenger aboard, who "would, in case of diversity of interest, receive short shrift at their hands," he suffered in silence. Then something heartwarming happened. "...and so it remained for one of these men, whom I had regarded as uncouth, a Roman Catholic seaman, to take precedence in suggesting the thought in the heart of everyone of us. He was astern and in arm's length of me. He first made inquiry as to the religion of each of us and found Episcopalians, Roman Catholics and Presbyterians. The suggestion that we should say the Lord's Prayer together met with instant approval, and our voices with one accord burst forth in repeating that great appeal to the Creator and Preserver of all mankind, and the only prayer that everyone of us knew and could unite in, thereby manifesting that we were all sons of God and brothers to each other whatever our sphere in life or creed might be."

Gracie also heard and saw only polite rebuffs for those who could not fit aboard Collapsible B.

"The men with the paddles, forward and aft, so steered the boat as to avoid contact with the unfortunate swimmers pointed out struggling in the water. I heard the constant explanation made as we passed men swimming in the wreckage, 'Hold on to what you have, old boy; one more of you aboard would sink us all.'' In no instance, I am happy to say, did I hear any word of rebuke uttered by a swimmer because of refusal to grant assistance. There was no case of cruel violence."

Steward Thomas Whiteley, speaking from a less enviable position told a different story:

"I drifted near a boat wrong-side-up. About 30 men were clinging to it. They refused to let me get on. Some one tried to hit me with an oar but I scrambled on to her."

Stoker Harry Senior had an even harder time:

"I tried to get aboard of her, but some chap hit me over the head with an oar. There were too many on her. I got around to the other side of the boat and climbed on."

No one knows for certain as to how Jack Phillips left the ship, but according to both Bride and Lightoller, as well as the occupants, he somehow made his way to Collapsible B. But he was so exhausted from repairing the wireless equipment the previous night, coupled with the workload of the day, that he finally found his rest, in death. When the sky began to lighten, he was loaded off the boat and his body floated away into a dark, flat plane. Harold Bride, a bit saddened by his loss, would later say that he was buried at sea.

In Lifeboat 2, Frank Osman noticed a box of rockets in the boat, asking Fourth Officer Boxhall if they could send them up. Boxhall asked the ladies if they wanted to go back to help any others in the water, but they all gave the down-vote. The boat might have been two thirds full, but their reasons were understandable. Throughout the early morning, Boxhall periodically set off one flare after another.

In Lifeboat 3, Douglas Spedden slept in his mother's arms as he clutched Polar, not having seen Titanic go down for himself. At some point along the way, as Charlotte Cardeza complained about the bitter cold, he woke up and said.

"Oh, Muddie, look at the beautiful North Pole with no Santa Claus on it!"

He also felt seasick, so Miss Burns comforted him with the story of Cinderella. Henry and Myra Harper petted their dog and looked up at the beautiful array of stars, thinking back on how bright the night seemed from the glowing ship a few minutes earlier. There was only a tiny bit of moon in the sky, or so he thought.

Lifeboat 4, with it's First Class widows before they even realized what they were as of now, were also contemplating on going back to rescue whoever was left swimming in the water. Along the way back to the site of the sinking they picked up eight sailors: Alfred White, Thomas Dillon, Frederick Scott, Samuel Hemming, Frank Prentice, Andrew Cunningham, William Lyons and Sidney Siebert. The last two, overcome by the cold, died hours later.

Prentice would soon be telling people that he jumped from the stern and somehow survived the fall:

"I went up aft to the poop deck. It was very quiet there, with only three or four of us up there, a pal of mine called Ricks, myself and another man called Kieran. And while we were up there she gradually sank by the head. She was almost vertical out of the water. I didn’t want to die, but I wasn’t afraid; at least I don’t think I was. You could feel everything going through her, rumble, rumble, everything movable was going down. She was almost vertical out of the water. There were two boards aft which said ‘Keep clear of propeller blades’—I couldn’t see the water, I was too far away from it. Ricks went in first, then I let go. As I passed, I saw the propeller blades looming out. I hit the water with a terrific crack, it knocked all the wind out of me, but I was lucky not to hit anything, because there was wreckage all around me. Ricks must have hit something because he went all listless. I stayed with him until he died. There were about 100 people in the water, sobbing and crying. The Titanic came back a little, settled down and then just glided away, very quietly. Then I thought I was all alone. There were no sounds at all. I picked up another life belt and a cushion and tucked them round me. I gradually felt myself freezing up. I was getting in a very bad way.”

Lifeboat 5, with Third Officer Pitman in command, made no attempt to go back.

”We should wait until things have calmed down a bit,” he told his passengers.

“Until they’re dead?” asked Karl Behr. “I find that to be very inhumane.”

Eventually, they rowed up to Number 7 to transfer some passengers.

"We had been rowing for some time when the other people were transferred into our boat," said Helen Bishop of Dowagiac, Michigan. "Then we rowed still farther away, as the women were nervous about the suction. We waited out in the water perhaps three-quarters of an hour after we had rowed this distance when we saw the Titanic sink. For some time after that we were separated from all of the boats except one; that tied to us and stayed with us. We found we had no compass, no light, and I do not know about the crackers or water; but we had no compass and no light."

Mrs. Bishop would also regale her fellow passengers of a fortune teller that she and Dickinson met in Egypt. Her prophecy spoke of Helen surviving a shipwreck, an earthquake and an automobile accident that would end her life.

Lifeboat 9, carrying Kate Buss and Madame Aubart, was drifting with the current and those who were occupying it were only doing an occasional period of rowing. Kate muttered bitterly over the loss of her possessions. All she took with her was her handbag with no money in it, a bankbook and some needlework. She also noticed that Madame Aubart had been making a lot of agitated noises and the efforts of the passengers trying to calm her down were of no help at all. A terrible feeling had occurred to her that Mr. Guggenheim did not survive and no one understood exactly what sort of pain she was in.

"Will you please be quiet?!" shouted Kate.

Madame Aubart remained quiet after that. Now all she had to look forward to was what she was going to say to Mrs. Guggenheim when they next met.

In Lifeboat 10, Mary Fortune, sitting with her daughters Ethel, Alice and Mabel, was not as fortune as the namesake of her surname. Her husband Mark and son Charles were dead and she was thinking back on the words of a soothsayer she met four months ago in Cairo, Egypt (probably the same one the Bishops met):

"You are in danger every time you travel on the sea, for I see you adrift on the ocean in an open boat. You will lose everything but your life. You will be saved, but others will be lost."

In Lifeboat 11, Marie Jerwan and her fellow passengers listened to stories from the boat's crew and one of them said:

"I thought I'd be more safe in the Titanic, as it had been so highly praised. I hardly expected to have an accident more terrible still and owe my safety to Devine protection."

Every now and then, one of the crew members would set a light to the end of a rope to let other lifeboats know where they were. Emma Schabert took note of the calm water while her brother Philipp rowed. Julius Sap, a Belgian from Third Class, lay at the bottom of the boat after being pulled from the water. Edith Rosenbaum, still playing "The Maxie" on her lucky pig, watched Elizabeth Nye comforting a sleeping baby boy in her arms. Alice Cleaver, doing the same with Trevor, wondered if her employers were alive.

In Lifeboat 12, Gus Cohen, also pulled from the water, was struggling to row as his hands had suffered from rope burns as well as his injured forehead. He tried as best as he could for the remainder of the night.

In Lifeboat 13, Lawrence Beesley tried to lift everyone's spirits by offering them loads of new things to observe and experiences. The Northern Lights had initially brought some cheer to the boat as they thought it was the dawn and Frederick Barrett talked about how they would recognize a ship coming to their rescue: by taking note of a single white light, followed by a mast light. Once they were in vertical alignment, everyone would know for sure that it would be a steamer.

While Beesley searched for some food and water aboard, Dr. Washington Dodge was engaged in conversation with a man that he later recognized as his table steward Frederick Ray.

"Doctor, are your wife and baby safe?" asked Steward Ray.

"I put them in one of the first boats to be launched," replied Dr. Dodge.

Then he took full notice of Steward Ray.

"I had no idea you were here!"

"Why, I was right behind you as we left the steamer, and called you to get in."

Steward Ray then took out six handkerchiefs and handed them out to his fellow boatmates to be used as caps to keep themselves warm.

In Lifeboat 15, Bertha Mulvihill was transfixed by a small iceberg that kept hitting the side of the boat. She regarded it as something evil taunting her, but it helped her to forget her cold and hunger. The sky was starting to get brighter and she saw a light in the distance.

"Could that be a vessel coming for us?"

The others were doubtful, but some could see the lights coming closer and closer, complete with a streak of black smoke. It was a steamship all right.

But I mustn't tell you any more in detail, or I shall spoil the next chapter.

On that lonely little panel, Jack and Rose looked out for any boats in sight. The water was glassy, with only the faintest undulating swell. Rose could actually see the stars reflecting on the black mirror of the sea. Jack nudge his face closer to her, breathing onto her for the sake of warmth. He squeezed the water out of her long coat and tucked it in tightly around her legs. He rubbed her arms.

"You sure we can't take turns?" she asked.

"No thanks," he smiled. "We might as well die together."

Then Rose noticed that the cries for help were falling silent.

"It's coming for us soon. It's getting quiet."

Jack tried to lighten the mood.

"I don't know about you, but I intend to write a strongly worded letter to the White Star Line about all this."

Rose chuckled and sank further into acceptance.

"I love you, Jack."

He stopped and takes her hand, searching her face for a long time. Jack saw her making her peace with death. The feeling was mutual.

"I love you too, Rose. But let's not think about it. We should think of what we could have. We can go on, make lots of babies, watch them grow."

"What's the point?" asked Rose.

"We can still be rescued, but even if it's too late, I'd be happy to go to the next life with you."

Understanding this, they gripped each other's hands very tightly and gave a final kiss, ready to await their destinies.

By 2:40, a rescue operation was already taking shape. Fifth Officer Lowe of Lifeboat 14, hailed and rounded up Lifeboats 4, 10, 12 and Collapsible D.

Seaman Joseph Scarrott recalled the following scene.

"Our officer then ordered all the boats under his charge to row towards where the ship went down to see if we could pick up anybody. Some of our boats picked up a few. I cannot say how many. After that we tied all our boats together so as to form a large object on the water which would be seen quicker than a single boat by a passing vessel. We divided the passengers of our boat amongst the other four, and then taking one man from each boat so as to make a crew we rowed away amongst the wreckage as we heard cries for help coming from that direction."

"Listen up!" Lowe shouted to his fellow occupants. "We have to go back! I want all the women transferred from this boat in that boat as quick as you can."

As the women stepped gingerly across the other boats, Lowe saw a shawled figure in too much of a hurry. He moved the shawl away to find himself staring into the face of a man.

Chivalry, that male code of honor dating back to the days of King Arthur, was still very much alive in Edwardian society. Many a man on Titanic proudly resigned himself to die with the ship in order to save one more female life. To try escaping before all the women and children had been sent safely away was seen as the ultimate act of male cowardice. At least one man boarded a lifeboat disguised as a woman (but you probably already knew that). Edith Brown saw him get into Number 14, and Lowe handled him roughly when redistributing passengers in a cluster of boats. The man, Edward Ryan (no relation to Tommy), a 24-year-old Steerage passenger, all but admitted in a letter to his parents that he would have done anything to stay alive, even hiding his head beneath a woman's shawl. However, the incident grew beyond a single person with an understandable motivation, becoming a mythic footnote to Captain Smith's command of women and children first—or, as heard by Second Officer Lightoller, women and children only.

William Carter, later on, had noticed that his 11-year-old son William II was wearing a woman's hat. The actual story seems to be that his mother gave him something to keep his head warm. In the mythical version, John Jacob Astor, perhaps after seeing Lightoller's reluctance to let 13-year-old Jack Ryerson into the lifeboat, produced a woman's hat, put it on young William's head, and quipped that he could go now because he was a girl. William Sloper, who left in a starboard boat loaded by the less discriminating First Officer Murdoch, was also believed to have left Titanic under the guise of woman, but likewise, this is mythical.

Anyway, Lowe shouted:

"How dare you! Get in there!"

And just like that, he threw Ryan into the next boat.

Then it was off to the site of the disaster, not realizing until they saw for themselves that they were too late.

What they saw coming towards them was a poignant trail of flotsam: Hartley's violin, a child's wooden soldier, a framed photo of the Sage family, Daniel Marvin's wooden Biograph camera...and finally, white lifebelts bobbing in the darkness like sign posts. The first bodies were coming into the beam of Lowe's torch. Some looked like they could be sleeping. Others stared with frozen eyes at the stars.

Seaman Scarrott described the heartbreaking scene.

"When we got to it the sight we saw was awful. We were amongst hundreds of dead bodies floating in lifebelts. We could only see four alive. The first one we picked up was a male passenger. He died shortly after we got him in the boat. After a hard struggle we managed to get the other three. One of these we saw kneeling as if in prayer upon what appeared to be a part of a staircase. He was only about twenty yards away from us but it took us half-an-hour to push our boat through the wreckage and bodies to get to him; even then we could not get very close so we put out an oar for him to get hold of and so pulled him to the boat. All the bodies we saw seemed as if they had perished with the cold as their limbs were all cramped up. As we left that awful scene we gave way to tears. It was enough to break the stoutest heart."

"Careful with your oars," Lowe instructed the others. "Don't hit them."

Scarrott almost caught a glimpse of Lifeboat 6 rowing away from the scene. Maggie and the others knew it was too late for them.

"Is there anyone alive out there?!" Lowe began to call. "Can anyone hear me?!"

Daisy Minahan nearly vomited at the sight of a woman with a baby clasped closely to her breast as she tried singing "Throw Out the Lifeline", and Sara Compton cringed at the sight of William Harbeck's corpse staring up at her.

Lowe would deny seeing any female bodies in the water, and if there were, he probably didn't notice or deliberately ignored them.

But he still was not giving up.

"Well, keep checking them! Keep looking!"

Then...

"A little further on," said Charlotte Collyer, "we saw a floating door that must have been torn loose when the ship went down. Lying upon it, face downward, was a small Japanese. He had lashed himself with a rope to his frail raft, using the broken hinges to make the knots secure. As far as we could see, he was dead. The sea washed over him every time the door bobbed up and down, and he was frozen stiff. He did not answer when he was hailed, and the officer hesitated about trying to save him.

'What's the use?' said Mr. Lowe. 'He's dead, likely, and if he isn't there's others better worth saving than a Jap!'

He had actually turned our boat around; but he changed his mind and went back. The Japanese was hauled on board, and one of the women rubbed his chest, while others chafed his hands and feet. In less time than it takes to tell, he opened his eyes. He spoke to us in his own tongue; then, seeing that we did not understand, he struggled to his feet, stretched his arms above his head, stamped his feet, and in five minutes or so had almost recovered his strength. One of the sailors near to him was so tired that he could hardly pull his oar. The Japanese bustled over, pushed him from his seat, took the oar and worked like a hero until we were finally picked up. I saw Mr. Lowe watching him in open-mouthed surprise.

'By Jove!' muttered the officer. 'I'm ashamed of what I said about the little blighter. I'd save the likes o' him six times over, if I got the chance.'"

That man, along with four others they were able to rescue was Fang Lang and he was actually a Chinese sailor. After he was hauled into the boat, Sara, Mrs. Collyer and the other women began to revive him.

Then they set off in search of swimmers...But by 3:20, silenced by the cold, by terror, injury or exhaustion, the cries from the water had ceased. At this time, over half an hour had passed since the sinking. Only the impossibly hardy or determined could have survived for so long in such intensely cold water.

Eva Hart and her mother Esther, among the living, remembered the moment all too well:

”...and finally the ghastly noise of the people threshing about and screaming and drowning, that finally ceased and I remember saying to my mother once how dreadful that noise was and I always remember her reply. She said, ‘Yes, but think back about the silence that followed it’. And I know what she meant because all of a sudden it wasn't there, the ship wasn't there, the lights weren't there and the cries weren't there.”

As the rescue procedures followed, the seven hundred people in the boats had nothing to do but wait...wait to die, wait to live and wait for an absolution which would never come.

The last thing Lowe's torch ever shined upon, were two corpses lying in the middle of the debris. One had his head sticking out and other was lying on a wooden panel that once belonged to a grand room graced by humanity's wealthiest. Their hands were locked together. One head is next to other's, it's face turned into his shoulder. Suddenly, a strange phenomenon happened: the one with his head in the water began to sink, his right-hand iced on to the other, pulling it down with them. Slowly, they sank into the black water, fading out like spirits returning to some immaterial plane.

No one would know who they were and it would be too late by the time they did.

They regained consciousness to see the wrecked bow of Titanic looming like a ghost out of the dark. It was lit by a kind of moonlight, a light of the mind. They passed over the endless forecastle deck to the superstructure, moving faster than anything had ever gone before. It was almost like they were flying. They went inside and the echoing sound of distant waltz music was heard. The damages faded away from the walls of the dark corridor and it was transformed...

They emerged onto the grand staircase, lit by glowing chandeliers. The music was vibrant now, and the room is populated by men in tie and tails, women in gowns. It was exquisitely beautiful. The two souls swept down the staircase. The crowd of beautiful gentlemen and ladies turned as they descended toward them. At the bottom, they stood hand in hand and everyone greeted them. Rose and Jack kissed and hugged each other as the passengers, officers and crew of the RMS Titanic, or at least those who had recently perished, smiled and applauded in the utter silence of the abyss.

Chapter Text

I'm not sure if you want to read about this part, especially since our young heroes are now dead and gone, but if you want to know what happened to everybody else, then feel free to continue reading.

Between the sinking and the dawn, Titanic's lifeboats drifted and rowed aimlessly on the calm, dark sea. The survivors were stunned by the loss of their loved ones. They sat silently or bickered miserably while others tried to signal each other as the boats gradually scattered. In Number 15, men made an unsuccessful torch with rags and flannel wrapped around the end of a boat hook. In Number 2, Fourth Officer Boxhall lit green flares, inspiring other boats with false hopes of an approaching ship. In Number 8, Ella White used the light of her electric cane to guide her boatmates through the darkness.

The overturned Collapsible B was gradually sinking, riding lower and lower under the weight of the thirty men who clung to its curved hull. Inspired by the commanding prescience of Second Officer Lightoller, and by Wireless Operator Harold Bride's news that ships were sailing to the rescue, the passengers on B stood and shifted their weight to keep afloat. Even with a strategy for survival, some of the men died from cold and exhaustion.

The situation in Collapsible A was just as bad. Swamped with 14 inches of freezing water, the passengers stood for hours, singing, praying and counting. Norris Williams and Olaus Abelseth both had men die in their arms. As dawn broke, the people in these two foundering craft caught the attention of other lifeboats, which rowed to their rescue.

Then Archibald Gracie noticed a slow-approaching glimmer of hope in the distance:

"It was at quite an early stage that I had seen far in the distance the unmistakable mast lights of a steamer about four or five points away on the port side, as our course was directed toward the green-colored lights of the imaginary ship which we hoped was coming to our rescue, but which, in fact, was the already-mentioned Titanic lifeboat of Officer Boxhall. I recall our anxiety, as we had no lights, that this imaginary ship might not see us and might run over our craft and swamp us. But my eyes were fixed for hours that night on the lights of that steamer, far away in the distance, which afterwards proved to be those of the Carpathia. To my great disappointment, they seemed to make no progress towards us to our rescue. This we were told later was due to meeting an iceberg as she was proceeding full speed toward the scene of the Titanic's wreck. She had come to a stop in sight of the lights of our lifeboats (or such as had them). The first boat to come to her sides was Boxhall's with its green lights. Finally dawn appeared and there on the port side of our upset boat where we had been looking with anxious eyes, glory be to God, we saw the steamer Carpathia about four or five miles away, with other Titanic lifeboats rowing towards her."

As Gracie described, dawn had brought the Cunard Liner Carpathia, which steamed toward them from the southwest. Captain Arthur Rostron had reached Titanic's last known position, only to find an empty, icy sea as well as lifeboats scattered over three to four miles. Many in the lifeboats had heard and seen her signal rockets as she steamed over to the horizon, maneuvering around icebergs in her race to rescue the passengers on the sinking Titanic. The crew noticed one of Boxhall's green flares close at hand. Rostron stopped Carpathia's engines and let down a rope ladder for Lifeboat 2, ready to take onboard the first survivors. At 4:10 a.m., Elisabeth Allen of St. Louis was the first Titanic survivor to set foot on Carpathia's deck. Boxhall, as the first officer to come aboard, had the grim honor of announcing Titanic's loss to the captain.

Meanwhile in Lifeboat 6, Maggie and Mrs. Candee, still in charge, rowed towards Carpathia. Ruth held onto the hope of seeing Rose again, unaware that she and the steerage man she liked least of all had died.

Now they were warm and safe with the other Third Class passengers, served with hot tea.

Lifeboat 14, commanded by Fifth Officer Lowe, hoisted sail and towed Collapsible D to safety. Along with Numbers 12 and 4, they stopped to rescue the passengers from the two foundering collapsibles. Even as the boats became overloaded, the wind and surf began to pick up after an unusually calm night.

The survivors also needed help boarding Carpathia. Rostron provided several options for those who might have to scale his ship's hull from the lifeboats. Those still full of vigor, like Colonel Gracie, came charging up the rope ladders. Elizabeth Shutes, whose hands were too numb to manage the ladder, rode up to the gangway in a chair sling, bumping against the hull. Stoker John Thompson, soaked and freezing, his arm broken, was hauled aboard by a cargo fall, its end carefully looped around his torso in a bowline. Charlotte Collyer watched nervously as Marjorie was tucked into a canvas ash bag and pulled gently up the side of the ship. The same went for Douglas Spedden and some of the other children. With so many requiring so much assistance, and with small boats that needed to be brought to the side of the ship and then held steady in the rolling water, it took almost four and a half hours to load over 700 people. Their arrival on deck ended the more physically demanding part of their ordeal. The purser and chief steward noted their names and classes, and they were led below for the warmth, hot drinks, medical attention, and breakfast that Captain Rostron had ordered for them.

Carpathia's crew and passengers greeted the survivors with strong arms and respectful silence. The women of Titanic pushed through the crowds and lined the railing, looking for their husbands. Anyone at sea might have shared their fate, or the fate of the victims they had left behind. Those coming aboard had done whatever was necessary to survive the night in the sea. Bruce Ismay understood the price he had paid for his survival. He had to bear the responsibility for so few lifeboats on such a large ship. He bore the eyes and face of a damned soul as he came onboard, requesting Captain Rostron to keep him in a secluded cabin where he could think about his decisions in peace. The ship's surgeon, Doctor Frank McGee escorted him into his cabin.

The later arriving boats had to struggle to reach the ship. Number 12, now under Lightoller's command, was the last one to reach Carpathia. By 8:30 a.m., he was the final Titanic survivor to come onboard. Of Titanic's 20 lifeboats, only 18 reached Carpathia. Collapsible B drifted aimlessly after its passengers were taken off, and Collapsible A was scuttled and abandoned by Lowe. Carpathia had room to take on only 13 extra boats. Her crew abandoned the rest. Captain Rostron took Carpathia on a final search of the area. The terrible realization grew: There were none left in the water.

As Carpathia loaded Titanic's passengers, Californian approached from the north. Chief Officer George Stewart had seen Carpathia adrift to the south and alerted Captain Lord. Lord woke Evans to see if there was any news by wireless. Evans' CQ drew an immediate response from the Frankfurt, who told him of Titanic's distress calls during the night and her fate. Captain Lord, watching the drifting Carpathia, recalled his officer's report of eight rockets fired by a distant ship sometime after midnight. Although he would never publicly admit it, Lord must have had some suspicion that the lights seen by his crew were those of Titanic, sinking before their eyes. Even so, Lord started Californian's engines and put the crew on alert. Treading south through 19 miles of ice, Californian passed the ships Mount Temple and Almerian, who had already responded to Titanic's distress call. By 8:30 a.m., she drew near Carpathia. The last of the survivors had just been rescued. Californian was too late to help.

The same applied to the other ships who answered the distress call. The Anchor-Donaldson liner Saturnia came within six miles of the distress position, but had to stop because of heavy ice. One ship unable to change her course to save Titanic was the Leyland freighter Asian, already engaged in a rescue mission. She was towing the disabled tanker Deutschland to Halifax.

In defense of the crew, Californian may not have been able to reach Titanic's position soon enough. Even if Evans had been awake to hear Titanic's distress call, or if Third Officer Groves had known how to switch the system back on after Evans went to sleep, it is unlikely that Californian would have reached Titanic before she sank. The Leyland liner would have had to restart her boilers and engines, which had been shut down for the night. She would have had to pick her way southward through the ice field by starlight, a trip that would take three hours given Captain Lord's cautious navigation both in this scenario and in the alternative. Had she come to the rescue, Californian might have been able to rescue a few of the swimmers who had not yet frozen to death, and perhaps save the lives of those few who died in the lifeboats.

8:50 a.m. Titanic survivors crowded the decks and saloons as Carpathia's own passengers helped provide aid and comfort along with the stewards. Like Titanic's passengers, those aboard Carpathia trusted in the shipping line, captain, and crew to bring them to their destination in comfort and safety. It was with confusion and distress, then, that some of the Cunard liner's passengers woke in darkness to the vibration of racing engines below and noises on the decks above. To make things worse, their electric heaters and their hot water had been switched off with all extra power diverted to the engines. 

Captain Rostron had ordered his stewards to keep passengers off deck, and to prevent panic. Even so, they began to worry. Howard Chapin knew the sound of a lifeboat being prepared. Louis Ogden, refusing to believe that anything could happen to Titanic, was convinced that Carpathia was on fire. Passengers aboard a ship bound for the Mediterranean were not expecting this kind of Artic cold, and as dawn broke they were further amazed by the sight of ice. Mrs. Wallace Bradford wondered what they were doing near so many rocks in the middle of the ocean. Sue Eva Rule mistook it for the wreckage of a dirigible.

The confusion felt by First and Second Class passengers was nothing compared to the disruption faced by those in steerage who were awakened and moved to different cabins. The captain had ordered his own Third Class people grouped together to make room for any of Titanic's who might come aboard. In spite of any early confusion, however, Carpathia's passengers were quick to open their hearts to the shocked, freezing survivors who arrived with the dawn.

To make a long story short, this vacation cruise had truly become a mission of mercy. The ship sailed over the location of the sinking. A little wreckage and only one floating body were visible. Few of the ships sailing that day reported seeing of the dead at all as they had most likely been swept away by the current. The white of their lifejackets would have blended into the busy white background of the ice field, making them all but invisible. The ice field was a low wall, blinding white in the sun. One berg stood out, its base marked with what could be a scrape of Titanic’s paint. Captain Rostron asked his purser and chief steward for a full survivor count, and prepared to return to New York, even though retracing Carpathia's steps would be costly to the Cunard Line. If he continued on his intended course to Gibraltar, crowded with over 700 extra passengers, they would soon run out of food, drink and linen. Under normal conditions, Halifax would be a logical choice this far north in the Atlantic, but there was too much floating ice and it had already proven its danger. The Azores and Boston, Massachusetts were also considered.

Titanic's sister ship Olympic offered to meet Carpathia and take off the survivors, but Rostron felt that another mid-ocean transfer would be too hard on them, especially onto a liner that looked exactly like the one that just sunk from beneath them. Bruce Ismay, the man who should have been making this decision, was in a state of shock. An understanding of Captain Roston's sterling character suggested he felt responsible for the lives he had just saved, and that he wanted to see them safely to their original destination.

Rostron had one more request before leaving the area. Episcopal priest Roger Anderson agreed to lead prayers in this moment of tragedy. There was thanksgiving for the survivors, followed by a brief funeral for the lost. The sobbing survivors were overpowered by grief.

Californian, after several hours of finding some wreckage and no survivors, also proceeded through the ice field on their way to Boston. Both ships sailed around the ice field at a slow and even pace for four hours before heading out into the safety of the clear waters.

Later that afternoon, Cal was searching the faces of the widows lining the deck, looking for Rose. The forward well deck of Carpathia was crammed with huddled people, and even the recovered lifeboats of Titanic. On a hatch cover sat an enormous pile of lifebelts. Upon walking amongst this wrecked group, looking under shawls and blankets at one bleak face after another, his worries only increased.

Then he caught a familiar glint of red hair.

"Rose!"

But the woman had an icy face, and cheekbones that were thin compared to the cherub shape of Rose's. At last, he gave up and looked for Ruth. He found her bunking in a cabin with Maggie.

"I'm afraid she is gone," he said when he saw her.

Ruth was initially too shocked to answer, but then she found her voice.

"I should have been better."

Maggie wrapped an arm around her.

"Well, it's like I always say, Ruth: Children have to be free to lead their own lives."

"How very open-minded of you," sniffed Ruth. "I suppose maybe she and that man were destined for each other regardless of everything else."

"I couldn't agree more," smiled Maggie.

Cal said nothing, he just kept his opinions on the matter to himself.

In his home at New York, White Star's president Phillip A.S. Franklin received a call at 2:00 a.m. Eastern Time from a reporter with the news that Titanic had called for help and was sinking. The information came from the Allan liner Virginian by way of the Marconi station in Montreal. After this conversation, Franklin called the Associated Press, who were familiar with the story but unable to give further details. He asked them to wait to release the story until it could be confirmed, but they had already released it for the morning papers. Then he telephoned Montreal, but they had no further news. The best Franklin could do was send a wireless message to the Olympic: "Make every effort to communicate Titanic advise position and time. Reply Ismay, New York." After this, he assembled his company officials for an early meeting about how to proceed.

With the story having gone to press, New York was soon buzzing with rumors. One of these rumors was that Titanic was being towed to Halifax. Acting on what they sincerely hoped to be the truth, White Star Line officials ordered salvage tugs to meet Titanic at the Canadian port, and dispatched a special train from New York to pick up her passengers and bring them to their destination by land. Naturally, this was a mistake, as it was the Deutschland being towed to Halifax by Asian. The early morning hours were thick with wireless transmissions, some of which became scrambled by the Marconi operators receiving them, thus beginning the rumor. A more suspicious reading of the events suggested to some that White Star officials had actually started the rumor to give themselves more time to consider their insurance situation.

When the news of the disaster reached President William Howard Taft, he acted swiftly to establish communication with either the ship or its survivors. His concern was mainly humanitarian, even though the danger to so many American millionaires made this an especially high-profile shipwreck. Taft also had a personal worry. He had ordered his hard-working military advisor, Major Archibald Butt, on a nonessential mission to the Vatican as a way of forcing him to take a vacation. Unbeknownst to him, Butt had perished in the sinking.

Wireless operator David Sarnoff, a 20 year old Russian immigrant working on the roof of Wanamaker's Department Store, was said to be one of the first persons in New York to hear of the disaster, but it is unlikely that he would have been working so late on a Sunday night. Originally, John Wanamaker had installed this equipment to communicate with his Philadelphia store, but it was also obviously there as an extra to attract customers. Now, Sarnoff was using it to quickly assume an important role in the days following the tragedy. Because of his important part in receiving messages that early Monday morning, the intervening President Taft required that all other northeastern stations fall silent, as the airwaves on that side of the U.S. were cluttered with wireless messages about Titanic, which increased the difficulty of getting any real news. For the next 72 hours, Sarnoff sat at his Morse key in the shack on Wanamaker's roof, listening carefully for any messages from Carpathia. Because his Marconi setup had demonstrated a strong signal and efficient handling of the early morning messages, he was delegated to receive and transmit Titanic news. Sarnoff collected information from Canada and from ships at sea and released it to reporters in New York.

Breaking news was posted faster than the papers could print them. Most morning headlines claimed that Titanic was injured but still afloat with all passengers safe. But the New York Times assumed the worst and published it. Panic began to spread.

As Carpathia steamed west, Ismay gave Captain Rostron a message for White Star's New York office which read:

"Deeply regret advise you Titanic sank this morning, fifteenth after collision iceberg, resulting serious loss life; further particulars later, Bruce Ismay."

Titanic's owner sat alone in Doctor McGhee's room, shocked, defeated, racked with guilt. At the doctor's request, fellow survivor Jack Thayer tried to help. But he failed in the attempt to relieve him of his distraught nature.

"Because I had known Ismay so well on board the Titanic," he recalled. "The doctor of the Carpathia, the afternoon that we approached New York, asked me if I would not visit Mr. Ismay in his cabin and talk to him, to see if I could not help relieve the terribly nervous condition he was in. I immediately went down and as there was no answer to my knock, I went right in. He was seated, in his pajamas, on his bunk, staring straight ahead, shaking all over like a leaf. My entrance apparently did not dawn on his consciousness. Even when I spoke to him and tried to engage him in conversation, telling him that he had a perfect right to take the last boat, he paid absolutely no attention and continued to look ahead with his fixed stare. I am almost certain that on the Titanic his hair had been black with slight tinges of gray, but now his hair was virtually snow white. I have never seen a man so completely wrecked. Nothing I could do or say brought any response. As I closed the door, he was still looking fixedly ahead."

Harold Cottam, Carpathia's wireless operator, had been on duty all night. Now he was exhausted and overwhelmed by his workload, which was filled with official traffic and outgoing messages from survivors. In addition, Captain Rostron ordered that a complete list of survivors be sent as soon as possible. Harold Bride, Titanic's surviving wireless operator was able to help.

Although he escaped the sinking Titanic without serious injury, Bride's feet were not damaged until after he reached the safety of Collapsible B. There, Bride lay flat on the upturned hull, exhausted from his swim, unable to sit. With space at a premium, another man ended up sitting on his feet. Grateful to be alive and too weak to protest, Bride simply and silently endured the pain of his feet being twisted and crushed between the slats of the boat. Injury to his feet was further complicated by hours in the freezing water. Somehow, Bride was able to climb the rope ladder to Carpathia's deck. After that, however, during the trip to New York and his entire stay in America later on, he was swathed in bandages from the ankles down and unable to move without assistance.

Despite his fatigue and frostbitten feet, he relieved Cottom at the Morse key whenever necessary. During the four day voyage, Carpathia's signal would be broadcasting nonstop. Instead of responding to any questions, Cottom and Bride would ignore everyone, including the news wires and even President Taft in the interest of serving Titanic survivors. They insisted on transmitting only survivor messages and names. This ever-growing list was punctuated only by messages regarding Carpathia's navigation and by Bruce Ismay's official announcement of the sinking (which was sent two days late because Cottam confused it with a similar message Captain Rostron had him send to Cunard's New York office).

"My feet pained terribly, but I got to the top and felt hands reaching out to me. The next I knew a woman was leaning over me in a cabin, and I felt her hand waving back my hair and rubbing my face," Bride said of the experience. "I felt somebody at my feet, and felt the warmth of a jolt of liquor. Somebody got me under the arms. Then I was bustled down below to the hospital. That was early in the day I guess. I lay in the hospital until near night, and they told me the Carpathia’s wireless man was getting “queer” and would I help. After that I never was out of the wireless room, so I don’t know what happened among the passengers. I saw nothing of Mrs. Astor or any of them. I just worked wireless. The splutter never died down. I knew it soothed the hurt and felt like a tie to the world of friends and home."

Back on land, Sarnoff was handling incoming messages from both Cottam and Bride. His earphones were the first in New York to hear the names of the Titanic survivors and the early communications from Bruce Ismay and the White Star Line. Sarnoff's name instantly became familiar to newspaper readers all over the world. It was an auspicious beginning for a man who, through his later involvement with RCS, NBC and the development of television, would become a leader in the broadcast industry.

But that's another story for another time.

Throughout April 15th, desperate families of Titanic passengers and crew jammed the White Star Line offices in New York, London and Southampton. With no real news yet, all rumors seemed true. Most were optimistic in tone. Shortly before noon, the Allan liner Parisian reported that Carpathia had reached Titanic and picked up 20 lifeboats, and that the White Star liners Baltic and Olympic were on the way. After this, the Anglo-American Telegraph cable ship Minia sent word that steamers were towing Titanic to Cape Race, Newfoundland, hoping to beach her before she sank. Still later, Reuters news agency pronounced that the ship had sunk at 2:20 a.m.. Although Titanic was gone, hope still remained for her passengers and crew. For a short time, news circulated that those who had not been saved by Carpathia were aboard the Allan Line's Virginian. Finally, at 6:16 p.m., Captain Haddock of the Olympic sent New York the following message:

"ISMAY, New York and Liverpool: Carpathia reached Titanic position at daybreak. Found boats and wreckage only. Titanic had foundered about 2.20 a. m. in 41.16 N., 50.14 W. All her boats accounted for. About 675 souls saved, crew and passengers; latter nearly all women and children. Leyland Line S. S. Californian remaining and searching position of disaster. Carpathia returning to New York with survivors. Please inform Cunard. HADDOCK."

"Immediately when that telegram was received by me it was such a terrible shock that it took us a few minutes to get ourselves together. Then at once I telephoned, myself, to two of our directors, Mr. Steele and Mr. Morgan, Jr., and at the same time sent downstairs for the reporters. I started to read the message, holding it in my hands. I got off the first line and a half where it said: "Titanic sank at two o'clock a.m.' and there was not a reporter left in the room—they were so anxious to get out and telephone the news.”

Two hours later, after Phillip Franklin announced it to the American public, the news crossed the Atlantic by cable, with no one knowing who was alive or dead. Early that Tuesday morning, Southampton residents finally received some conclusive news when the White Star Line posted a notice at it's office:

"Titanic foundered about 2:30 a.m., April 15th. About 675 crew and passengers picked up by ships' boats of Carpathia and Californian. Remaining and searching position of disaster. Names of those saved will be posted as soon as received."

For a ship who's crew alone was over 900, this could only mean the worst for Southampton. Hopeful speculations gave way to horrible predictions. London's Daily Sketch even claimed that Carpathia, with her precious cargo of survivors was in peril. Over the next few days, the shipping line and the newspaper offices began to post lists of survivors, and those with loved ones on Titanic hovered between hope and fear. Names were posted and then corrected with each vague new report, because the information was still sketchy. As a result, the lists were continually revised. Familiar names were misspelled or omitted. Even the names of the living were accidentally omitted. Last names were also misspelled, some unrecognizably so. First initials were often excluded, torturing families who shared a surname or who had more than one member on the ship. There would be no relief from the confusion until Friday, April 19th, when Carpathia reached New York and everyone would know for sure.

The White Star Line also sent half-pay notes to wives and other family members to collect part of a seafarer's pay without waiting for him to come home. Issued as early as Monday, April 15th, the half-pay notes were a welcome relief for Southampton, whose economy had already suffered from work stoppage during the coal strike. It was also an acknowledgment of the Titanic disaster that provided no details of who had lived or died. A ship's pay stopped with the sinking, but as of yet there was no news of who would return home to support their families in the future.

Meanwhile, the boat train was turned around in Maine, and the expectant families and friends aboard it, including the Straus' daughter Mrs. Sarah Hess, were wracked with worry on the ride back down to New York.

William Randolph Hearst, who was a strong opponent of Ismay, had a field day when he caught wind of his survival and used the power of the press to tarnish his name as a villain who left many innocent lives to die.

One Southampton resident, Dorothy Cross, would later recall this story involving her grandmother's reaction to the disaster:

"Well, I didn't want to be a teacher. My mother was, my grandmother was and I think my great-grandmother was and I didn't want to be. In St Mary's, one time the school was called Crabniton then I think they changed the name to Grove Street School and my grandmother was a headmistress there. I remember the story my mother told. She was visiting my grandmother and they went into this one class and grandmother said 'Stand up any child who has a relative on the Titanic' and the whole class stood up. And one little mite said 'Oh, there's no need to worry, Miss, the Olympic is rushing to her aid'. I thought that's the trust of a child isn't it, you know."

The Salvation Army's newspaper, War Cry described the scenes at the White Star office with sympathetic remorse:

"None but a heart of stone would be unmoved in the presence of such anguish. Night and day that crowd of pale, anxious faces had been waiting patiently for the news which did not come. Nearly everyone in the crowd had lost a relative. Some of the poor little women in black, who were bearing their overwhelming sorrow with wonderful courage, notwithstanding their tears, stood with little children in their arms and toddlers at their skirts."

By noon, the next day, Titanic's survivors had settled uneasily into crowded new quarters with their sympathetic hosts. Passengers and crew shared or gave up their cabins. Under these conditions, Carpathia was too small to allow anyone much privacy. The dining saloons and other common areas were filled with sleeping refugees, driving many others out onto the decks, where Titanic's lifeboats loomed over them in a haunting reminder of the disaster. 

"You have never seen such weeping and brokenhearted people," said Juliet Tarkington in a letter written the following day. "Lots of little children are on board our ship without even mother or father. So many that were rescued died afterward from exposure. Four were buried at sea yesterday. I did not look and wouldn’t have watched it for anything. Lots of women who have lost husbands are mourning for their jewelry and handsome Paris gowns. Now, what do you think of that? Not saying a word about their husbands."

Amidst the crowding, surviving family members that been separated during the evacuation were reunited with great relief.

Ruth Becker befriended a German woman in Lifeboat 13 and offered to help find her baby after they were rescued. The baby turned out to be in Number 11 with Ruth's mother Nellie. Meanwhile, four-year-old Washington Dodge, Jr. saw his father Washington, Sr. shortly after coming aboard but decided not to tell his mother. It was Steward Ray, unaware of the little boy's joke, who reunited the family.

Some of Carpathia's passengers were members of the same social circle as Titanic's celebrated First Class travelers. Louis Ogden was delighted to meet his cousin Archibald Gracie and friend Henry Sleeper Harper soon after they came up the ladder from their lifeboats. Mr. and Mrs. Charles Marshall were confused by an early morning visit from their steward, who announced their niece Charlotte Appleton. The Marshalls knew that all three of their nieces—Appleton, Malvina Cornell, and Caroline Brown—had been in England for a fourth sister's funeral and had booked their passage home on Titanic. All in the same moment, they learned of the sinking, and also that the three women were safely aboard Carpathia. Jack Thayer was reunited with his own mother, and broke the sad news of his father's fate. Daisy Spedden's maid Helen Alice Wilson was said to have met her future husband, the Swedish sea captain Axel Johannes Rosenquist onboard.

Lucille Carter's reunion with her husband was less than emotional. She found him leaning against the rail and greeting her among the lines of "had a jolly good breakfast and I never thought I would make it."

Newly made widows recalling their own lost husbands, were tortured by the presence of men who had survived.

The men who survived the Titanic disaster spent the rest of their lives under a cloud of shame. Edwardian society still took the laws of chivalry very seriously; there was no acceptable reason why a woman's life should not be saved before a man's. It made no difference that most of the adult male survivors were assigned to boats by officers, that they did not see any women on deck when they boarded, or that they were swept into a boat by events beyond their control. A man's luck in escaping Titanic was often interpreted as an act of cowardice.

Second Officer Lightoller felt justified in his hard-won survival.

"I had taken my chance and gone down with the rest," he later wrote. "Consequently I didn't have to take any old back-chat from anyone."

Major Arthur Peuchen soon sensed this possibility by the treatment that male survivors received from women who had just lost their husbands. He approached Lightoller shortly after boarding Carpathia and requested his signature on an affidavit stating he had ordered Peuchen into Lifeboat 6.

Bruce Ismay was a high-profile example of survivor guilt. The American public had good reason to hate the director of White Star as the man responsible for deciding how many lifeboats Titanic would have. In England, where his name had been better known before the disaster, he was greeted as, if not quite a hero, than just another victim of circumstances beyond anyone's control. Still, consumed with guilt, he was planning to retire from public life.

Equally severe but much less justified was the treatment received by Masabumi Hosono, a Japanese transportation official who escaped in Lifeboat 10. He was confused with an Asian man who had allegedly behaved badly in Number 13, and was forced to live in shame in his own country. The Tokyo press suggested that Hosono commit ritual suicide. He lost his job and was treated harshly by his community until his death in 1939.

But above everything else, compassion triumphed over inconvenience. Carpathia's stewards may have been acting under Captain Rostron's orders, but no one told the ship's passengers that they had to be kind to the Titanic survivors; this was a decision which most of them arrived at on their own. Some took an active role in reviving the people from the lifeboats, such as the woman who rubbed Harold Bride's face to bring him back to consciousness after he collapsed on deck. People performed small personal kindnesses, such as bringing the survivors coffee or loaning them pajamas and toothbrushes. Steamer blankets were turned into warm clothing for children who had lost everything. It was surely an inconvenience for the Gibraltar-bound passengers to find themselves heading back to New York, but the rescue of Titanic's passengers was far more important, and compassion carried the day.

The survivors were also the subject of many photographs. Several of Carpathia's passengers, including Louis Ogden and Mabel Fenwick, were amateur photographers who appeared on deck with their cameras early on the morning of April 15. As dawn turned to morning in the North Atlantic, they were on hand to record the contrasts of the ocean at the edge of an icefield, the towering berg with which Titanic may have collided, and many of the 18 lifeboats approaching their ship through the seascape. They photographed the boats coming alongside, the survivors climbing aboard and, until the rough weather late the next day, Carpathia's crowded decks.

Just like Francis Browne, who left Titanic at Queenstown, Ogden and Fenwick were tourists collecting images of their travels. Like Browne, they too were offstage observers to one of the 20th Century’s pivotal moments. Their snapshots captured the aftermath of an event that exists as oral history. After all, no cameras survived the sinking of Titanic.

This fascination with preserving the moment's images was not limited to the hobbyists with their cameras. Sir Cosmo and Lucille, Lady Duff-Gordon posed for a souvenir photo to commemorate their escape. They assembled the other passengers and crew members of Lifeboat 1, and put on lifejackets to recreate the mood. Not surprisingly, this frightened some of the other survivors who were unaware of the Duff-Gordons' artistic intent.

The Dean children presented another collectable image. Two-year-old Bertram and baby Millvina were popular with photographers, perhaps because of the poignancy of their happiness. They were too young to understand the great tragedy that had just claimed the life of their father Bertram. On the family's return to England the following month, so many female passengers wanted their pictures taken with Millvina that an officer had to impose a limit of ten minutes per person.

Most steerage survivors, however, did not share the Dean family's celebrity. Immigrants to America were a familiar sight, and there was no special reason to photograph them. In fact, the fascination with this increasingly popular hobby seemed to create a distance between the observer and the observed. Titanic survivors, still in shock from their ordeal, were sometimes asked to smile for the camera.

As for Captain Roston, everyone who knew him would fondly remember him as an alert, clear-headed man, with qualities adequately demonstrated by his response to Titanic's cry for help and his thorough preparations for whatever conditions he might find at the site of the disaster. He was reported to live a clean, sober life, and his piety was well known among those who served under him. Rostron seemed to draw strength from the occasional moment of silent prayer. He would raise his cap slightly off his head, lips moving soundlessly as he addressed his God. As Carpathia raced to Titanic's rescue, her swift safe passage through the ice was a testament to her captain's sharp eyes and masterful seamanship, but Rostron felt he had not acted alone. He later said, "When day broke, I saw the ice I had steamed through during the night. I shuddered, and could only think that some other hand than mine was on that helm during the night." With such a keen awareness of life and death at the edge of the icefield, it was no surprise that Captain Rostron requested a memorial service before Carpathia left the position at which Titanic had gone down.

At four in the afternoon, Carpathia stopped to bury the bodies of William F. Hoyt, Sidney Siebert, Edvard Lindell and a fireman at sea, with Roger Anderson reading the service. The crewmembers gently lifted each body and threw it over to the side, committing it to the deep.

Later that Tuesday night, Carpathia ran into a thunderstorm. The winds blew, the waves gently rocked the ship, Winnie Troutt suffered a nervous breakdown and became hysterical, a few sips of brandy serving as her only medicine. In addition, she was treated to a warm bed after sleeping on a table for two whole days.

Ara, safe in his cabin, looked out of the porthole. He was cold and miserable, especially after finding out that nearly everyone he knew in third class was dead. He wanted to jump off

By Wednesday, April 17, Carpathia encountered fog, which frightened Ruth and some of the survivors. That same day, in search of still more information, President Taft dispatched the navy cruiser Chester to steam toward Carpathia, receiving her stream of messages and relaying them back to land. Chester heard one of Ismay's first wireless messages from Carpathia to White Star's New York office:

"Most desirable Titanic crew aboard Carpathia should be returned home earliest moment possible. Suggest you hold Cedric, sailing daylight Friday unless you see any reason contrary. Propose returning in her myself. Please send outfit of clothes, including shoes, for me to Cedric."

Phillip Franklin, concerned about bad publicity, was trying to keep everything running smoothly in the wake of the disaster, and did not want to hold inbound ships for any reasons. Ismay still insisted on delaying Cedric's departure, and soon enough, this public exchange of Marconigrams came back to haunt him.

Anyhow, back to Ruth. She finally found the courage to tell everyone else that Rose was dead. She sat in the dining room, telling Mrs. Thayer, John Jr., Emily Ryerson, Mrs. Widener and everyone else at her table the false story through phony tears, which felt almost real. The mournful sound of the liner's fog whistle blowing off every few minutes or so did little to ease the pain.

"And I believe it's quite clear that she chose that young man over Cal," finished Ruth.

"I find that hard to believe," said Marian. "I believe I saw Rose getting into a boat just as mine was leaving."

"I believe it was I who lead her to them," added Colonel Gracie. "I'm sure she got off and is probably hiding somewhere."

"I might have heard her voice," said Madeleine. "And saw her as well, but I am not too sure."

But Ruth was certain that they were trying to cheer her up. Cal spoke on her behalf

"What you saw was a ghost," he said. "Rose is dead and nothing more."

"I may have lost my son and husband," Eleanor told her in a courageous voice. "But I know I saw Rose getting into the boat that Colonel Gracie was putting her into. I even saw a man jumping into the boat to join her. And three more, I might add. I think that steerage fellow Mr. Dawson was one of them."

"I wouldn't bother asking him," Ruth said. "Besides, he's sure to give you the same answer."

"You wouldn't," said Maggie, sitting to her right. "But I would."

Jack Thayer was confused.

"I'm not even sure what to believe," he said. "But I believe my mother."

"So Rose could be alive?" asked the Countess.

”Believe what you want,” Ruth said. "She is as dead as everyone who was left behind."

She sat up and walked away from the table. Returning to the cabin that she shared with Maggie, Helen and Mrs. Augusta Ogden, Ruth spent the rest of the voyage feeling cold, lonely and miserable. She wished now that she hadn’t been such a brahmin.

Jack Thayer also returned to his cabin, reflecting on how the world was starting to change around him, as he would later write in a book about his survival, several years later:

"There was peace and the world had an even tenor to it's way. Nothing was revealed in the morning the trend of which was not known the night before. It seems to me that the disaster about to occur was the event that not only made the world rub it's eyes and awake but woke it with a start keeping it moving at a rapidly accelerating pace ever since with less and less peace, satisfaction and happiness. To my mind the world of today awoke April 15th, 1912."

Elsewhere in the far reaches of outer space, a solar eclipse hung over Europe. Perhaps even the sun was in mourning.

It was still foggy the next day on Thursday, April 18. Trudy and Theresa had been bunking with Miss Fleming, Miss Geiger and the Allison servants, plus Trevor in a single cabin. With Chester and her sister Salem leading the way, they felt reassured, but not Trevor. He was crying most of the time. Perhaps he knew, in his own subconsciousness, that his mother, sister and father were dead.

"Too bad Loraine isn't here," said Mildred Brown, the cook. "She would have cheered him up."

Miss Brown, who had been sleeping on the dining room floor for the last two nights, was just as miserable as the rest of her lot. Alice, who had been doing her best to comfort the baby, thought back on the sinking ship and the words she told Trudy.

"I always had a feeling that the ship would go under," she sobbed.

"I think I felt it too," Trudy said, sitting down on the bunk.

Theresa looked out the window. It was 4:00 p.m. in the afternoon and the fog was starting to lift. Then the women heard something else....The Fire Island Foghorn.

"We're not too far from New York now," Theresa smiled.

Trudy smiled back at her, along with everyone else.

By 6:00 p.m., Carpathia took on a harbor pilot from Ambrose light ship, and an escort of tugboats and private craft followed her, hooting and clanging into New York. At 7:00, heavy winds and rain started to pick up and the flashes of photographers with their cameras speckled in the rainy dusk. By this time, Carpathia approached Staten Island, to pick up the port physician Dr. Joseph J. O'Connell from the quarantine vessel Governor Flower.

By 8:40, the ship had just passed the Battery and was now moving slowly up the North River past the Statue of Liberty. Even though he had no umbrella, Ara went up to watch the city of Manhattan growing in size. He gazed up at the Statue of Liberty, looking partly bronze and partly green, welcoming him to a new world with her glowing torch. It was just as Fabrizio saw it, so clearly, in his mind. But what was even the point without jack, Fabrizio, Tommy or Massimo by his side?

Then he looked down at another sight, a rather unscrupulous one if you look at it that way. Reporters from the New York American press boat Mary F. Scully were shouting questions through megaphones. One of them actually boarded Carpathia, only to be grabbed by crewmembers and taken below. People on the smaller boats were holding up signs, asking for Titanic passengers by name. Jack Binns, a former wireless operator from another White Star liner, Republic, which sank three years ago, was looking forward to meeting Bride and Cottom. But for everyone else, a different kind of ordeal was about to begin.

Captain Rostron guided his ship towards the Chelsea Docks, meeting the Merritt and Chapman tug Champion on the way. An important delivery had to be made first.

Since she carried too many lifeboats for Cunard's New York dock hands to warp her in properly, Carpathia's first stop was at White Star's dock rather than Cunard's. First, she had to unload the 13 Titanic lifeboats that she still carried on her own decks. These lifeboats were all that remained of the sunken Titanic. Souvenir hunters were quick to visit the boats and within less than a day they had been picked clean of all fittings and supplies. White Star eventually removed the "Titanic" nameplates from their bows and moved them into storage. It was uncertain if the lifeboats were returned to service on Olympic or another liner, or simply retired. But Carpathia's crew was certain of one thing: The ship was dwarfed by the long pier that had been constructed with so much effort to receive the vast Olympic and Titanic.

After the boats were tied and secured by IMM dockmaster Osborne B. Thomas, Carpathia was on her way again, albeit at a painfully slow pace.

Amidst thunder and lightning, Pier 54 was packed with an enormous welcoming committee of 10,000 strong. They waited silently as Carpathia pulled into the pier. Waiting were friends and relatives of Titanic passengers, city officials, representatives from the Coroner's Office, uniformed doctors and nurses, stretcher bearers, the Immigration Commissioner William Williams and his staff, and at least 20 ambulances and crews. Stretchers and blankets waited as well. Charitable organizations included the Salvation Army, represented by Eva Booth; Monsignor Lavell with ten Sisters of Mercy and a committee from the New York Stock Exchange with $20,000 cash to distribute to the needy. The Boy Scouts were also there to provide aid and comfort for those without family. They even came with cash for those who had lost everything. A crowd of 28,000 people were spread out behind the police cordon. Only 2,000 of them held passes that allowed them onto Pier 54, and the rest were held back by the policemen. Reporters and photographers were everywhere, looking for a good story, eager to share this moment with the world. They were standing at the foot of the gangways, lining the tops of cars and trucks...it was the 1912 equivalent of a media circus.

Back onboard, as the crew opened the doors and the gangways that were connected to the ship's entrances, the steerage passengers waited to be loaded off, some holding each other's hands, waiting to be back on Terra Firma where everything was safe.

At 9:35 p.m., the survivors disembarked.

The Frauenthals were the first to leave. They along with the rest of Titanic's survivors made their way down the gangplank and passed through the pier building. Some, like Harold Bride, could not move without assistance. Rebecca, having spent most of the voyage with Mrs. Abbott, would spend the rest of her childhood growing up under her care before settling out on her own. In later years, she would recall the man who saved her life as an angel amongst the many mortals of men. The First and Second Class survivors departed, slogging in a long line that seemed like it would go on for more than two hours. Shortly before 11:00, the steerage passengers disembarked, Ara being the first to leave. He was followed by a group of other steerage passengers, among them Katie Gilnagh, Willie Coutts and the Goldsmiths. They were already longing to find a nice lodge on dry land.

Once they were back on land, the young Turk was met by an immigration officer. 

"Can we take your names, please?"

He answered as clear as he could.

"Ara Ajemian."

"Thank you."

The immigration officer escorted the two inside for processing. They walked forward with the dazed immigrants. The boom of a photographer's magnesium flash caused him to flinch and the glare was blinding. Ara was steered towards a holding area with Daniel Buckley, who was just as dazed as his fellow survivors, seated three seats away from him. But Ara never even noticed him, he was watching the other survivors being reunited with their friends and family. The crowd outside was jostling to see their faces, shouting the names of loved ones whose fates were still unknown.

For every reunion that happened, many more never would.

Madeleine Astor, accompanied by her maid and nurse, was met by her stepson Vincent, a man slightly older than herself. He had originally hoped to take her off the ship at Quarantine Island in the family yacht, Noma, but White Star officials had convinced him that it would be inadvisable. Edwina Troutt was greeted by three cousins who presented her with a change of clothing and whisked her away in a rented car, skillfully navigating the crowded streets as they headed for Montclair, New Jersey. Karl Behr left Carpathia with Helen Newsome. His sisters and brothers found them and guided the couple to Behr's father, who seemed to have aged visibly in the last few days. Marion Wright, who had come across the Atlantic to be with her fiancée Arthur Woolcott, missed him in the crowd. She left the pier with fellow survivors Bessie and Bertha Watt, and did not meet Woolcott until the next day. They married the day after that. Alice, Mildred and Sarah were met by Hudson Allison's brothers George and Percy. Miss Cleaver handed Trevor over to them and tried her best to avoid the press. She even went as far as saying her name was Jean. Mrs. Hays left in a special train from Grand Central Station bound for Montreal, while the Thayers, Mrs. Widener and her maid took the private rail route back to Philadelphia. The injured survivors were taken to the St. Vincent's and St. Luke Hospitals.

When Maggie was questioned on her survival by a reporter, she simply replied: "Simple Brown luck. We're unsinkable."

Cal, Ruth, Trudy and Theresa went with Maggie and some of their friends to the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel, intending to stay there for the night before heading back to Philadelphia. One of the earliest survivors to register there was William Sloper. The press descended upon him, and Sloper, who had already written an exclusive for the New Britain Herald, his hometown newspaper in New Britain, Connecticut, forcibly ejected them from his room. One reporter from the New York Herald had his revenge by publishing a story that Sloper dressed as a woman to escape Titanic. This piece of libel followed him for the rest of his life.

One man who was there to greet the survivors was Senator William Alden Smith. This Michigan Republican had been appointed by the Senate Committee on Commerce to investigate the sinking of Titanic. He boarded Carpathia with a troupe of U.S. Marshals, his secretary, Senator Francis Newlands and a handful of subpoenas, one of which was for Bruce Ismay. The investigation's hearings would begin the very next day at 10:00 a.m., and Senator Smith wanted Ismay, along with Titanic’s officers and some of her crew and passengers, to be there. To some, this had the same effect as putting them under arrest, which was not the kind of greeting they had expected.

Smith was also looking forward to uncovering any possible corporate wrongdoing. Specifically, he was suspicious of the limited information that flowed from Carpathia's wireless shack in the days between her rescue of the survivors and her arrival in New York, hoping to find out from Bride and Cottom for reasons as to why the news was delayed. He was even going to seek testimony from Gugliemo Marconi, the inventor of wireless telegraphy and the employer of Bride and Cottom. The two even had a chance meeting with Mr. Marconi in the shack. Senator Smith also hoped to uncover evidence about preemptive insurance and stock maneuvers as White Star and International Mercantile Marine brought time with an information blackout.

After his processing, Ara pushed through the jostling people, moving without purpose, and none challenged him in the confusion. He walked away from the Chelsea Docks, further and further until the flashes and the roar were far behind them, and into a an uncertain fate.

But the story doesn't end there.

Chapter Text

The passenger lists posted in America and England became more accurate following Carpathia's arrival in New York. The crowds outside White Star and the newspaper offices watched with hope and fear for familiar names. Southampton was hardest hit by the news that only about two hundred of Titanic's nine hundred crewmembers were saved. The London Daily Mail reported:

"In the humbler homes of Southampton there is scarcely a family that has not lost a relative or friend. Children returning from school appreciated something of tragedy, and woeful little faces were turned to the darkened, fatherless homes."

The Daily Sketch embellished with a more sensational tone.

"In this district there are many families for whom the spectre of want is in ambush if the bread-winner has sunk with the Titanic. A rumour is persistent that a young mother who had given birth to twins and whose husband was a fireman, has died of shock."

On Friday, April 19, England observed a national day of mourning for Titanic. Roughly ten thousand people attended a memorial service at St. Paul’s Cathedral in London, including King George V, his wife Mary of Teck, their children and the Archbishop of Canterbury, Randall Davidson. Those who could not find room inside, paid their respects in the street. The dead were mourned and prayers of thanks were offered for those who were rescued. Churches and other cities were also crowded with those gathering to remember the tragedy and pray for it's victims. In Queenstown, flags flew at half-staff for the sons and daughters of Ireland, who would never fulfill their dreams in the New World.

Even as the United Kingdom mourned, America was asking questions. Senator Smith convened an inquiry the morning after Carpathia docked. America was still reeling from the shock of the disaster and Smith was moving quickly to collect survivor testimony while the incident was still fresh. His colleagues knew that he had created the subcommittee and appointed himself as chairman because he was an outspoken opponent of J.P. Morgan. Titanic's loss might have proven to be an avenue of attack against the owner of International Mercantile Marine, White Star's parent company. As a former railroad lawyer, he was familiar with Morgan's business strategies. Smith's dislike for both influenced his antitrust attitude during his Senate career.

When he learned of the Titanic disaster, and understood that the ship was technically owned by Morgan, he led the move for an investigation, forming the subcommittee and the chairman nomination for himself. Smith's most powerful tool in his quest to prove corporate wrongdoing was the authority to subpoena anyone whose testimony he required, including British citizens on American soil. The other Senators that he chose to investigate the disaster were Jonathan Bourne, Jr. of Oregon; Theodore Burton of Ohio; Duncan U. Fletcher of Florida; Francis G. Newlands of Nevada; George C. Perkins of California and Furnifold M. Simmons of North Carolina. Each was chosen because of party affiliations rather than knowledge of shipping and shipwrecks.

In order to be close to Titanic's survivors as they disembarked from Carpathia, they would spend two days at the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel, before the hearings would be moved to Washington D.C.. They continued from there until May 25.

Senator Smith, ensuring that he would have a full range of Titanic survivors represented at the hearings, quickly prepared a federal subpoena for everyone who might have played a role in the sinking, the evacuation, and the rescue. Smith received his temporary authority over British citizens on American soil after hurried conferences with President Taft and Attorney General Wickersham. Smith found all the names on the list sent ahead by Carpathia, and he made some guesses as to which ones might best help his case. Although his main focus was on officers and crew members, he was very interested in hearing from Bruce Ismay, who was obviously a key decision-maker. His scope widened to include Titanic passengers, and certain officers and crew members from Carpathia and Californian. The day after Carpathia's arrival, most of Titanic's surviving crew was sent back to England on the Red Star liner Lapland. At the last minute, Senator Smith had his U.S. Marshals stop the ship off Sandy Hook, New Jersey with subpoena for five more crewmen.

Those crewmembers and passengers who had not received a congressional subpoena, were free to return to their lives. This included Cal and Ruth, who told everyone in Philadelphia's social circle as to what really happened to Rose. As far as their knowledge of Senator Smith could exceed, he was determined to suppress a growing rumor mill and bring facts into public view, as the newspapers often made their own truths to the fact-hungry people of the U.S. and around the world. They eventually gave their story to the Philadelphia press, most of it true, while some facts, like the existence of one Jack Dawson, were falsified and twisted. 

On the first day of questioning at 10:30 a.m., the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel's fancy East Room was packed with reporters and onlookers. Smith, polite but direct, was to finally begin scratching the surface. The first witness called was Bruce Ismay. His answers were short, evasive, lacked substance and seemed to conflict with fact. Although he was eager to see Titanic make a faster maiden voyage to New York than Olympic had done, he denied discussing about the ship's maximum speed with Captain Smith. It seemed as if the conversation between the two men, as overheard Saturday afternoon in the First Class Reception Room by Elizabeth Lines, had never taken place. Despite his eagerness to impress the passengers with Titanic's speed and the skill of her crew, Ismay denied showing the Baltic's ice warning to anyone on Sunday evening. Emily Ryerson and Marian Thayer would later claim that he had brought up the subject of floating ice and the ship's speed with a flash of the Marconigram in question. Ismay also stated he boarded Collapsible C only when there were no other passengers on deck. However, Jack Thayer recalled that the situation was "every man for himself" and that Ismay had pushed his way in front of other male passengers to climb into the boat just as it was lowered.

Senator Smith was not happy with Ismay's performance. Whether he disbelieved Ismay or simply disliked him, he seemed determined to hold White Star's director responsible for the tragedy. Ismay was then required to ask further questions when the hearings moved to Washington and Smith was not going to release him for eleven days.

The day's second witness was Captain Rostron, who gave a play-by-play account of his ship's rescue mission. Speaking of which, Carpathia was being restocked to resume her journey to Gibraltar and she was due to depart the next day. During said voyage, Rostron would write of his rescue of Titanic's survivors in a parchment for the Modern Historic Records Association, officially declaring his rescue of 705 souls.

Second Officer Lightoller was the third witness to appear. He spoke of the lifeboats, how many there were, how they met the standards, and the difficulties he encountered when loading women and children. He also described his own dramatic escape from the ship. When called to testify again a few days later, he would speak in defense of Ismay, saying that First Officer Murdoch ordered the ship's owner into a lifeboat. Lightoller's concise, knowledgeable answers began to show that Senator Smith, a native of the landlocked Midwest, knew little about the sea and that he had little time to prepare for an organized line of inquiry.

The next day, Saturday, April 20, the hearings were moved from the hotel's East Room to its more spacious Myrtle Room. The high point of the day: Harold Bride's testimony. The Titanic's only surviving Marconi operator made a stirring entrance, arriving via wheelchair (due to his frost-bite injuries suffered during the disaster) and spinning his account of the night, from Captain Smith's final moments to his own jump to Collapsible Lifeboat B.

By the time Captain Rostron, his crew and his passengers heard of this, they were on their way back to the Mediterranean via Carpathia. The ships of the North Atlantic had other news regarding the disaster.

Mrs. Johanna Stunke, a First Class passenger on the North German Lloyd liner Bremen, sailed past a fateful iceberg on that same day.

"It was between 4 and 5 o'clock on Saturday," she said, "when our ship sighted off the bow to the starboard, an iceberg. We had been told by some of the officers that the Bremen was going to pass within a few miles of the position given by the Titanic when she sank, so when the cry went up that ice was sighted we all rushed to the starboard rail. It was a beautiful afternoon, and the sun glistening on the iceberg was a wonderful picture. But as we drew nearer, and could make out small dots floating around in the sea, a feeling of awe and sadness crept over everyone and the ship proceeded in absolute silence. We passed within a hundred feet of the southernmost drift of the wreckage, and looking down over the rail we distinctly saw a number of bodies so clearly that we could make out what they were wearing and whether they were men or women. We saw one woman in her night dress, with a baby clasped closely to her breast. Several of the women passengers screamed and left the rail in a fainting condition. There was another woman, fully dressed, with her arms tight around the body of a shaggy dog that looked like a St. Bernard. The bodies of three men in a group, all clinging to one steamer chair, floated close by, and just beyond them were a dozen bodies of men, all of them encased in life-preservers, clinging together as though in a last desperate struggle for life. Those were the only bodies we passed near enough to distinguish but we could see the white life preservers of many more dotting the sea, all the way to the iceberg. The officers told us that was probably the berg hit by the Titanic, and that the bodies and ice had drifted along together, but only a few miles south of their original position where the collision occurred. The scene moved everyone on board to the point of tears, even the officers making no secret of their emotion."

On Sunday, April 21, Senator Smith, Ismay and the crew had their breakfast and were driven by cabs to Penn Station, where they traveled to Washington aboard the Congressional Limited express train. They arrived at Union Station by 3:10 p.m. and were each given a place to stay at separate hotels: Ismay and Phillip Franklin stayed at the Willard, the crew stayed at the Continental and the officers booked at the National. The inquiry would resume tomorrow at the Russell Senate Office Building, first in the Caucus Room, and then later in Room 412.

The third day of testimony, Monday, April 22, saw to it that Smith could now proceed with the full senate subcommittee at hand. Highlights of the day's testimonies included Phillip Franklin's communications with Bruce Ismay after the sinking; he denied any knowledge of a misleading message sent the morning of the sinking, a message that, if valid, could have given White Star time to reinsure the ship before word got out that she was actually gone. Later in the day, Joseph Boxhall answered questions about his duty in sending off rockets to signal nearby ships. He also mentioned spotting a ship in the distance—one that might have been able to help.

In the North Atlantic, the Canadian cable ship Mackay-Bennett had been at the site of the Titanic disaster for two days and recovered 80 bodies by April 23rd. Immediately after the disaster, the White Star Line, upon learning the worst, moved quickly to locate and recover the victims' bodies. Through their Halifax agency of A.G. Jones & Co., White Star charted the Commercial Cable Company ship to search the waters. Under the command of Captain F.H. Lardner, she sailed on April 17, fully prepared with a compliment of undertakers from John Snow and Company, over 100 wooden coffins, vast amounts of burlap and embalming fluid, tons of ice in her cargo holds and cable tanks, and Canon Kenneth O. Hind from Halifax's All Saints Cathedral. The ship's crew was all-volunteer, and they were earning double wages.

Wireless reports of icebergs, wreckage and floating corpses seen from other ships guided Mackay-Bennett to the correct position by dusk April 20. The following morning, she began nearly six days of searching for and recovering Titanic victims. They were easy to find because of their bright white lifebelts, which kept their heads and shoulders well above the water. The crew went out in lifeboats to haul them from the sea. Once aboard the ship, they were cataloged, photographed and then identified either by name or physical description, their personal effects meticulously listed and stored. First Class passengers were embalmed on the spot and laid to rest in coffins that were then stored on deck. Second and Third Class were embalmed or not, wrapped in burlap, and stored on ice to rest in the hold. Titanic's crew members were the lowest priority, and the least likely to receive the undertakers' ministrations. For those bodies that had been too mutilated in the sinking, or excessively damaged during their time in the water, Mackay-Bennett's crew weighted them with iron bars, wrapped them in burlap, and buried them at sea with prayers from Canon Hind.

After recovering the 80 bodies on April 23rd, Mackay-Bennett hailed the passing Allan liner Sardinian to request more burlap. Early on the morning of April 26, she was joined by Minia, another cable vessel charted by White Star to relieve her. The two ships searched together for a few hours before Mackey-Bennett set off on her return to Halifax, carrying 190 bodies. However, she had recovered a total of 306 bodies, the other 116 being buried at sea. The Minia and later the Bowring Brothers' Algernine would find only another handful of Titanic victims floating forlornly amidst the North Atlantic ice.

Francis Dyke, a telegraphist working aboard the Minia, wrote to his mother about finding bodies:

"We began the search yesterday and the first we picked up was C.M. Hayes, President of Grand Trunk Rail, it was no trouble to identify him as he had a lot of papers on him and a watch with his name on. We picked up 10 more bodies yesterday (waiters and sailors). All those who are identified are embalmed and packed in ice and are to be sent to New York. I can tell you none of us like this job at all but it is better to recover them and bury them properly, than let them float about for weeks. The Reverend Cunningham came out with us to bury those not identified. When we passed over the spot where the Titanic sank he held a short service in the Saloon, which I thought very nice of him. I expected to see the poor creatures very disfigured but they all look as calm as if they were asleep."

After Mackay-Bennett returned to Halifax, Minia stayed behind. Over the next week, she found 17 more bodies, burying two at sea, before heavy weather sent her back to port. The search was then taken up by Montmagny, a ship belonging to the Canadian government. She came back to Halifax after finding only four bodies in two days, and made a second trip out with no success. The last ship officially designated to search for the dead was the Algernine, which sailed from St. John's, Newfoundland on May 15. She recovered Titanic's 328th body, that of Saloon Steward James McGrady. His body, which arrived in Halifax on June 11, was the final one found during the expeditions.

Throughout this period, bodies continued to drift and were sighted elsewhere, if not recovered. On April 22, Leyland's Winifredian sent Mackey-Bennett a message that her crew had seen a man in evening clothes floating in heavy ice 25 miles from the wreck site. Around this time, the schooner Banshee spotted the bodies of two sailors drifting alongside her. The Royal George sent word of passing an empty lifeboat, one of those still afloat after being unloaded and abandoned by Carpathia on the morning of the rescue. Toward the end, however, an occupied lifeboat appeared on May 10. White Star's Oceanic found Collapsible A adrift with three bodies aboard, their faces covered by lifejackets. Oceanic's crew buried the victims at sea and brought the lifeboat aboard, most likely returning it to the White Star pier in New York.

The crew of Oceanic also found Richard Norris Williams' fur coat, along with a walking stick engraved with the name "C Williams." Upon first impression, the cane discovery led White Star to believe that one of the bodies buried at sea by Oceanic's crew was that of Charles Williams. But Richard Norris knew this was impossible; he had no doubts as to how his father died. Eventually, the walking stick turned out to be nothing more than a spelling error. The mistake came from a wireless transmission, in which the phrase "care of Duane Williams" was accidentally misread as "cane of Duane Williams." The error found its way into a newspaper story.

In conclusion: although over 1,500 people died in the sinking of Titanic, only a few hundred of their bodies were ever found. It is likely that most were either inside the ship, or close enough to be dragged down with it. Of those who remained on the surface, some were scattered far enough by wind and current that no one ever found them.

The crews of ships that retrieved bodies from the water were often able to identify them by items found in their pockets: tickets, passports, names and addresses on letters, or writing on the backs of personal photographs. Often there were more unusual items to tell the tale of a life that had suddenly ended. John Jacob Astor was found with $2,500 cash in his pockets. Another man, never identified, wore a coat with six diamonds sewn into the lining. Stewards who had been interrupted in the line of duty still carried a full assortment of keys and lists detailing passenger names and the services that were to be performed for them. Some people had loaded their pockets with meat and biscuits, as if they were anticipating a long time at sea before anyone would come to their rescue.

On the fourth day of testimony, in Washington, Herbert Pitman described wanting to go back to save screaming victims in the water, while his passengers insisted that he not. Frederick Fleet detailed his sighting of the iceberg, also telling of his working in the crow's nest without glasses, though later testimonies refuted the need for glasses in the crow's nest. Major Peuchen described his experiences on the tense Lifeboat 6, where passengers like Margaret Brown and himself urged Quartermaster Hitchens to return to save the freezing victims; their pleas were to no avail.

The White Star Line was vulnerable to bad publicity after the loss of Titanic. On April 24, the company was dealt a blow when nearly 300 stokers of it's other wonder ship Olympic went on strike over insufficient lifeboats. Some of the collapsibles that White Star had used to substitute until new ones could be built were old military collapsibles, and some of them showed defects during testing. White Star replaced the strikers with non-union, inexperienced firemen. This move prompted still more of the black gang to walk off the job, along with sympathetic quartermasters and seamen. Before the strike was settled, 53 men were arrested on charges of mutiny, and Olympic's voyage had to be canceled. From this point on, ocean liners would sail with enough lifeboats for all onboard. Ocean safety measures could no longer be taken lightly.

Back in Washington on Wednesday, Lowe testified that he had nothing to drink that night; that he harshly reprimanded Bruce Ismay; that he fired shots along the ship to prevent boat-jumpers from entering his lifeboat; and that, once in the water, he refused to immediately return to save the ship's victims in the water; out of fear that they'd swamp his boat. Other day-five highlights included Lightoller defending Ismay's questionable actions; Ismay explaining that his quick getaway was out of concern for his crew to ensure they were returned to their families; Hitchens testifying that no one asked him to return to the sink site; and that he chose to row closer to a light he saw in the distance.

Lowe was even bold enough to question Senator Smith's knowledge of the sea through this comical exchange: 

"Do you know what an iceberg is composed of?"

"Ice, I suppose, sir."

Thursday in Washington, Guglielmo Marconi denied that he suppressed news of the sinking for his own financial goals. The wireless pioneer and owner of the huge company first discussed technical aspects about the wireless before Senator Smith asked him of the news of the ship's sinking, and if he happened to know why news of it was withheld. He steadfastly denied any hand in the matter and said he had no idea that the New York Times was handsomely paying Bride or Cottam to hear their exclusive story. Cottam spoke of selling his story to the Times for a "four-figure" amount.

On the 7th day, to move the hearings along, many testimonies were given separately after the day's 4:15 adjournment, explaining why the transcripts list these with the same date as day six. Questioning witnesses were Senators Smith, Burton, Perkins, Fletcher and Bourne. Highlights: Seaman Frank Osman recounted spotting a light in the distance, just before the ship sank. Lookout G.A. Hogg reviewed his picking up and transferring passengers, and mentioned women, particularly "American ones," who did so well with the rowing. Assistant Cook John Collins told of losing a child he was carrying in his arms when, as the ship tore up, a wave washed the child away. Frederick Clench confirmed Lowe's gunfire story, adding that the shots fired were effective in keeping order: "Everything went as if it was a boat drill in Southampton." He asked if anyone had been drinking—just as Lowe had been asked—and Clench replied with a straightforward no.

By Friday, the most interesting news came to the committee. It appeared that the famous mystery ship in the distance was most likely the Californian. Her donkeyman Ernest Gill verified his sworn statement of three days earlier, in which he disputed his captain's finding that the Californian was at least 20 miles away from the Titanic. Since he saw the ship's rockets, he figured the ship was only 10 miles away. He admitted his theory might not have been too popular with the boss. "I have no ill will toward the captain or any officer of the ship, and I am losing a profitable berth by making this statement. I am actuated by the desire that no captain who refuses or neglects to give aid to a vessel in distress should be able to hush up the men." Captain Lord's assessment told a different story.

On Saturday, April 27, the 9th day of the testimonies, James Moore, captain of the Canadian ship Mount Temple, admitted to being "about 49 miles" away from the Titanic and then inched closer—to 14 miles away—by 3:25 a.m., when heavy ice forced him to stop. At that point, Moore spotted a small schooner between him and the Titanic's position. Its lights disappeared. When questioning Saloon Steward Frederick Ray, Senator Smith again pressed the issue of Captain Smith and the possibility of alcohol, but Ray hadn't even seen the captain the night of the disaster.

On April 29 at 7:00 a.m., Lapland arrived at Plymouth, carrying 167 of Titanic's surviving crewmembers. However, before any of these survivors could head home to Southampton, they were detained for questioning by the British Board of Trade representatives. The first to be released were 85 seamen and stokers, under the condition that they would not speak to the press. Cooks, stewards and stewardesses waited their turn. Finally, the rest arrived in Southampton, to walk into the middle of an open air memorial service, where over 50,000 people had gathered to celebrate the living and remember the dead.

Even as some of the living made their way home, some of the dead approached their final resting place. Mackay-Bennett sailed into a silent Halifax, flying her flag at half-mast. She offloaded her sad cargo at a navy pier. First the un-embalmed crew on stretchers and in bags, then Third and Second Class in burlap from their bed of ice in the hold. Finally, First Class in their coffins from the deck.

The recovered bodies of Titanic victims were received and processed in Halifax at the Mayflower Curling Rink, which had been set up as a temporary mortuary. Bodies were embalmed and stored there for two weeks, allowing time for family members to arrive, identify, and claim the remains of their loved ones. Sometimes it was simply a matter of matching the names on papers carried by the living and the dead. Often however, the mourners had to examine a number of bodies in search of a familiar face. The coroners provided for this stressful process with a hospital area, where the overwhelmed might find relief. There were some unpleasant surprises as well, such as the one received by Frank Newell, a local undertaker, who found himself faced with the body of his uncle, Arthur Newell. The rail and shipping lines that served Halifax offered inexpensive rates for carrying coffins, and the U.S. and Canadian governments waived the usual regulations for transferring bodies across the border.

The 150 recovered Titanic victims who remained in Halifax, unclaimed by their families or unidentified despite the coroners' best efforts, were buried in one of three cemeteries. Most of them found their final resting place in the non-sectarian Fairview, the city's largest. Roman Catholics were taken to Mount Olivet, and Jews were buried in the Baron de Hirsch cemetery. There was some confusion during the Friday, May 3 burials, when ten of the first 78 coffins were discovered missing from Fairview. They had been taken to Baron de Hirsh by Rabbi Jacob Walter, who had somehow concluded that their occupants were of the Jewish faith. One body mistakenly claimed was that of Michel Navratil, who traveled by the alias of Hoffman. Walter intended to have them buried before sundown, the beginning of the Jewish Sabbath, during which burials are prohibited. The mistake was sorted out just in time.

White Star paid for all funeral expenses and set up a fund to pay indefinitely for the graves' upkeep. This obligation was taken over by Cunard. To this day, Cunard still honors its commitment to Titanic's victims.

Back in Washington, Frederick Sammis, Marconi General Engineer, admitted to having arraigned with the New York Times a paid exclusive interview with Bride and Cottam: "It seemed to me that the men who had been responsible mainly and chiefly for saving 700 lives ought in some way be recognized substantially." Hugh Woolner recounted his falling into the water and getting into Collapsible D and Fourth Officer Boxhall confirmed his calculations of the ship's position.

On the eleventh day of the hearings and the last day of April, besides discussing details of the ship's construction and mail arrangements, Ismay defended himself against Emily Ryerson's accusation that he showed her an ice warning, and that the ship would be speeding up to blast through the ice. Charles Stengel estimated the ship's speed and Archibald Gracie had provided one of the most exciting survivor accounts yet. He spoke of helping women to the lifeboats, of being dragged down with the sinking bow, of spending hours atop the overturned Collapsible B. As a man who nearly gave his life to honor the rule of women and children first, Gracie mentioned his surprise at seeing female faces in the crowd of steerage passengers, who arrived on deck just in time to be swept off by a wave. His testimony illustrated the distance between the First and Third Class experiences. It also raised the specter of discrimination of the less privileged passengers.

But some others were certain that the Third Class passengers were held responsible for their own fate. The 75-percent fatality rate among Titanic's Steerage passengers, especially women and children, was something that became obvious to all even before Carpathia's purser and chief steward began to tally their list of survivors. The White Star Line, and those who spoke in their defense, were eager to shift the responsibility onto those who were no longer alive to offer a different explanation. The main reason given for so many Third Class deaths was that many of these passengers did not understand enough English to follow the crew's directions. The apologists also spoke of families who refused to be separated, therefore consciously choosing to take their chances on the ship after all the lifeboats were gone. Finally, there was the supposed Third Class misconception that the boats in the First and Second Class areas of the Boat Deck were reserved exclusively for First and Second Class passengers. In this context, no one ever mentioned the closed watertight doors on F and G Decks, the locked gates at the entrance to the Third Class Stairway, or the opinion of some First Class men that they had more right to a lifeboat seat than anyone from Steerage.

The 12th day of the hearings, the second day of May, were moved back to New York, where Ella White explained how the Countess of Rothes was at the tiller most of the night, while the incompetent men in her boat were useless. Marconi's John Bottomley returned to answer more questions about the selling of the disaster stories to the New York Times.

On May 3rd, the British Board of Trade, which, of course, is the governing body over British maritime law, began its investigation at the Scottish Drill Hall in London, a room with such bad acoustics (like a glass ceiling and many balconies making it impossible for observers to hear anything) that it was soon necessary to move the hearings elsewhere to the more manageable Claxton Hall. John Charles Bigham, Baron Mersey of Toxteth, or simply Lord Mersey was the man in charge. Like Senator Smith in America, Mersey was no nautical expert; he was a judge that had been appointed Wreck Commissioner by the Lord High Chancellor, with the understanding that he would shift blame for the disaster away from the Board of Trade. After all, it was that body's outdated regulations that called for so few lifeboats on such a large ship. Lord Mersey would lead an investigation rich in technical detail, focusing more on the ship than her passengers.

Mersey himself had been president of the High Court's probate, divorce, and admiralty division, but the assessors who now served under him were far better versed in maritime issues. They were Captain Arthur Wellesley Clarke of Trinity House, a merchant marine guild; Professor J. Harvard Biles, Chair of Naval Architecture at Glasgow; Rear-Admiral Somerset Arthur Gough-Calthorpe; Navy Commander Fitzhugh C.A. Lyon; and the Board of Trade's Engineer Assessor Edward C. Chaston. Since this was to be a legal proceeding, all parties involved were represented by counsel. The Board of Trade's team was led by Attorney General Sir Rufus Issacs, and White Star's by Sir Robert Finlay. Other attorneys spoke for the National Sailors and Fireman's Union, the Docker' Union, Steerage passengers as a class, and, later on, Sir Cosmo and Lucille, Lady Duff-Gordon. Everyone connected with the Californian was advised by C. Robertson Dunlop, who was to observe the proceedings and speak only when asked. In all, there were over 50 lawyers participating. The hearings were to take place over 36 days.

That same Friday, back in New York, Third Class Passenger Daniel Buckley told of his going up on deck to assess the situation; he was unable to return to his room because of the rising water. Fortunately someone on deck had a lifebelt for him. He claimed that all passengers, regardless of class, had a fair shake at getting up on deck. First Class passenger George Harder detailed his wanting to go back in his lifeboat and save the swimming victims. Jack Binns, the former Marconi operator, described his own experience selling his story to the New York Times, following a disaster aboard the Republic five years earlier.

On May 4, Harold Bride provided the official report that he gave to his Marconi employers. Steerage passenger Berk Pickard said he knew immediately that the ship was sinking, so he hurried into a lifeboat. This is what he said of it:

"I said to myself that if the ship had to sink, I should be one of the last. That was my first idea, which was the best. I went and I found the door. There are always a few steps from this third class, with a movable door, and it is marked there second class passengers have no right to penetrate there. I found this door open so that I could go into the second class, where I did not find any people, only a few that climbed on the ladder and went into the first class, which I did. I found there only a few men and about two ladies. They had been putting them into lifeboats and as no women were there; we men sprang in the boat. We had only one woman and another young girl. There were two women. They just stood in front of me. We were lowered down, and when I was lowered down I saw the whole ship, as big as she was the right side a little bit sinking, and I was far from imagining that it was the beginning of the end. When I was going away from the ship, of course I was rather frightened; I was sorry at not being on the ship, and I said to the seaman, 'I would rather be on the ship.' He was laughing at me, and he said, 'Do you not see we are sinking?' I was rather excited, and I said, "It is fortunate that the sea is nice, but perhaps in five minutes we will be turned over." So I was in the boat until 5 o'clock in the morning.

In regard to the ship, I saw the ship very quickly started sinking, and one rail went under and then another, until in a half an hour, from my point of view, the ship sank altogether.

The steerage passengers, so far as I could see, were not prevented from getting up to the upper decks by anybody, or by closed doors, or anything else. While I was on the ship no one realized the real danger, not even the stewards. If the stewards knew, they were calm. It was their duty to try to make us believe there was nothing serious. Nobody was prevented from going up. They tried to keep us quiet. They said, 'Nothing serious is the matter.' Perhaps they did not know themselves. I did not realize it, the whole time, even to the last moment. Of course, I would never believe such a thing could happen.

The lifeboat I got into was an ordinary lifeboat. I do not know what number it was; I am sorry to say I did not look at it. There was some seaman in charge of it, who belonged to the ship. What kind of employment the seamen were in I do not know, but they belonged to the ship.

The only warning given to the steerage passengers after the collision was that we were ordered to take our lifebelts and go to the deck. There was no water in the steerage when I left.

That is all I know about it. I was one of the first to go. Of course, if I had stayed until a little bit later, I would have seen a little bit more. I was one of the luckiest ones, I think."

In Washington on May 9th, defending the newswriters, who were known for being a bit slapdash with the facts, the Dow Jones' Maurice Farrell was dragged through the coals for the erroneous reports that made it through his company's ticker. Affidavits from Barber A.H. Weikman, Fifth Officer Harold Lowe and First Class passenger Mahala Douglas rounded out the day's witnesses.

Two days later, Ismay arrived in Liverpool via Adriatic, where he was greeted by his wife, her maid and a crowd of hundreds who cheered for his survival. Other survivors arrived as well and proceeded to their homes before they were summoned to the Board of Trade's inquiry.

On the sixteenth of May which was also the 16th day of testimony, Senator Smith went into one particular detail concerning White Star's reaction to the disaster: Before the wreck was fully confirmed, word had spread that the ship had not sunk, but that she and her passengers were being towed to Halifax. Upon learning that this was false, many people considered this to be a ploy by the White Star Line to buy time to reinsure the already sunken Titanic. Today, the suspicions were less credible. Benjamin Campbell, vice president of the New Haven Hartford Railroad, confirmed his discussions with Phillip Franklin, agreeing that an honest effort was in fact made—as Franklin had already testified—to send rail transport to Halifax to pick up the possible survivors.

The following day, after two weeks of technical details, including a new round of lifeboat tests and timing drills aboard Olympic. The Board of Trade was ready for some high profile witnesses. Charles Lightoller and Bruce Ismay, finally home from Washington, were the two men who were best equipped to defend the White Star Line. Lightoller, aware that everyone involved sought a scapegoat, repeatedly asked the attorneys to quote his words back to him from the American transcripts.

Lightoller would later go on to explain how testifying in the British investigation was a bit trickier than in the American inquiry:

"In Washington it was of little consequence, but in London it was very necessary to keep one’s hand on the whitewash brush. Sharp questions that needed careful answers if one was to avoid a pitfall, carefully and subtly dug, leading to a pinning down of blame on to someone’s luckless shoulders. How hard Mr. Scanlan and the legal luminary representing the interests of the Seamen and Firemen, tried to prove there were not enough seamen to launch and man the boats. The same applied to the passengers, and quite truly. But it was inadvisable to admit it then and there, hence the hard-fought legal duels between us. Mr. Scanlan’s conquest of the higher legal spheres of recent years proves he was no mean antagonist to face. His aim was to forth the admission that I had not sufficient seamen to give adequate help with the boats, and consequently that the ship was undermanned. How many men did I consider necessary to launch a lifeboat?"

Ismay denied that he had anything to do with the ship's speed or with the lifeboat plans, maintaining that he had never seen Alexander Carlisle's plans for additional boats. The question of his no-say in Titanic's speed soon came up in a different form, as one of the attorneys asked if Captain Smith might not have been inviting his comment on the ship's speed when he handed Ismay the Baltic's ice warning. Lord Mersey intervened sharply at this point, forbidding any further repetition of that question in any form. These hearings were an academic, gentlemanly exercise. Lord Mersey shielded him from harsh treatment. He was looking elsewhere for the villain in this tragedy.

The only passengers to testify before the Board of Trade, were Sir Cosmo and Lucille, Lady Duff-Gordon. His charitable offer to replace the lost possessions of Lifeboat 1's crewmen had come back to haunt him. The American press picked up the story and accused him of bribing the men to ignore the cries of the dying. Sir Rufus Issacs, the Board of Trade's Attorney-General, had Sir Duff-Gordon explain his behavior that night:

"Did it occur to you that with the room in your boat, if you could get to these people you could save some?"

"It is difficult to say what occurred to me. Again, I was minding my wife, and we were rather in an abnormal condition, you know. There were many things to think about, but of course it quite well occurred to one that people in the water could be saved by a boat, yes."

The whiff of scandal made Lucile's business a household name all the way into the 1920s, when her signature styles became obsolete, and even though Sir Cosmo might have become a social outcast, he was able to get away with simply ignoring the whole thing.

Lord Mersey found a perfect scapegoat in Captain Stanley Lord, master of the one ship that probably was close enough to rescue passengers from the sinking Titanic: Californian. The month prior, Ernest Gill had given a damaging interview to the press about his actions on that fateful night:

He was just finishing his shift when he saw the lights of a large liner speeding past their starboard beam, then a lot later, he went back on deck for a smoke and notices a series of white distress rockets fired from the same general direction. He wondered about them until dawn, when Captain Lord took the ship to Titanic's last recorded position. Although Gill was the second crew member who later spoke to the press with a story that different from the Leyland Line's official version, his was the one featured prominently in the Boston American on April 25. This new perspective on the matter cast an entirely different light on what Captain Lord and his officers did not see and do the night of the sinking. After he, Lord and Wireless Operator Cyril Evans were subpoenaed to testify at the hearings in Washington, Gill was accused of accepting payment from the newspaper, lost his job and stated in a signed affidavit that he was raising his voice in outrage.

Because of this story, the U.S. senators were already prepared to treat Lord harshly, and now Sir Rufus Issacs had before him someone who could take the full blame for those 1,522 needless deaths in the North Atlantic. Captain Lord stuck to his story about seeing the lights of a much smaller ship from the bridge of Californian, but his aloof, barely co-operative manner did nothing more than hurt his case.

Back in Washington, on Saturday, May 18th, Captain John Knapp, a U.S. Navy Hydrographer, provided accounts that were also particularly damaging to Captain Lord and his story, as Knapp, a sea-navigation expert, concluded that the Titanic and Californian were in extreme proximity to one another; close enough, Knapp said, that all of Titanic's lost could have been saved.

In New York, Senator Smith concluded the U.S. Senate inquiry on Saturday, May 25th, after gathering accounts from three employees of Olympic. Captain James Haddock provided Marconigram logs for the fateful night of April 15. The day's most dramatic tales came from Leading Stoker Frederick Barrett, who was now working the same job on Olympic. He testified, "I jumped for the escape ladder and got away," just as the watertight bulkheads were closing down on him.

Over the last 18 days, the committee had interviewed 82 witnesses, generating 1,145 pages of testimony at the approximate cost of $6,600. The following Monday, Smith delivered a final report to the U.S. Senate. He and his subcomittee had made the following recommendations. That Captain Arthur Rostron be praised for his professionalism, and efficiency in rescuing the Titanic survivors, that Captain Stanley Lord be condemned for his failure to respond to clearly visible distress signals, that all ships be immediately equipped with enough lifeboats for every person, aboard, that all ships have adequate crew to man, their lifeboats and frequent drills to familiarize everyone aboard with lifeboat procedures, that all ships maintain, radio communications 24 hours a day, that these communications systems be backed up with reliable auxiliary power sources, that all messages be treated as confidential information, and that amateurs be punished for interfering. Smith also recommended a medal for Rostron to honor his heroic service. Congress agreed unanimously. The thousand-dollar medal was struck in gold, with a portrait of Rostron on the obverse side, and a stylized image of swimmers on the reverse. He was even given a silver trophy cup by none other than Margaret Brown. In the name of the American people, President Taft presented it to the captain in July, 1912. There was also a bill to review maritime legislation and a commission to oversee shipbuilding and marine equipment.

In England, the Wreck Commission heard its final testimony on June 21st. The Mersey Report, delivered to Parliament on July 30th, concluded that the wreck of Titanic was caused by excessive speed, that proper watch was not kept under conditions that
demanded it, that the ship's lifeboats were insufficiently manned and that Californian might have reached Titanic well before she sank if only Captain Lord had tried and that there was no discrimination against Third Class passengers. Regarding the people whose actions had been called into question, Mersey determined that Captain Smith had been going too fast, but that he acted as any other captain in his position would have done, and so should not be held personally responsible, that J. Bruce Ismay had not been negligent in planning for Titanic's lifeboats, had not ordered the ship to sail into the ice field at an unsafe speed, and had not behaved improperly in saving his own life in Collapsible C and that Sir Cosmo Duff Gordon, although he had not shown sufficient leadership in rescuing people from the water, did not bribe the crew of Lifeboat 1 to keep them from returning to save lives. Looking to the prevention of any such disasters in the future, Lord Mersey recommended that all new ocean-going ships be built with more and better watertight compartments, that all ships provide lifeboats for everyone on board and finally, that "every man taking a look-out (position) in such ships should undergo a sight test at reasonable intervals.”

Public opinion of the inquiry inspired different reactions. Senator Smith with his subpoenae and his sharp line of questioning, drew mixed responses from the two nations who were most affected by Titanic's loss. The editorial tone of American press coverage suggested that Smith's fellow citizens approved of his job, because he was seeking the answers that everyone wanted. Only the New York Times found fault with the Senator's methods. The British press, however, loudly disapproved of the U.S. investigative subcommittee. They were offended by Smith's assumed authority to detain British subjects, and they mocked his ignorance of the most basic nautical matters. They also brought up his role in the recent failure of a British-American peace treaty, which Smith opposed on the grounds that it would have soured U.S. relations with other European powers. As the London Daily Telegraph put it:

"It is a matter of congratulation that British custom provides a more satisfactory method of investigating the circumstances attending a wreck."

That method, as it was carried out by Lord Mersey, proved to be as meticulous and polite as Senator Smith's approach had been quick and blunt. Mersey sometimes steered his proceedings with a sharp, dry wit, but Nautical Magazine described his findings as "colourless, timid, and cautious." The best example of this approach can be seen at the end of what should have been a ringing call for adequate lifeboats. In the final report, the statement is followed by the careful disclaimer: "...with, however, the qualification that in special cases where, in the opinion Board of Trade, such provision is impracticable, the requirements may be modified as the Board may think right." The London Daily Mail summed up Mersey's judgment in a single sentence: "It carries reticence to the severest extreme." 

W.D. Harbinson, the counsel who represented all of Titanic's Third Class passengers, in absentia, at the British investigation, concluded his participation with this statement:

"I wish to say distinctly that no evidence has been given in the course of this case which would substantiate a charge that any attempt was made to keep back the third class passengers. I desire further to say that there is no evidence that when they did reach the Boat deck there was any discrimination practiced either by the officers or the sailors in putting them into the boats. There is not an atom or a tittle of evidence upon which any allegation could be based."

In August 1912, Californian Captain Stanley Lord resigned in disgrace from the Leyland Line. At thirty-five years old, his career was hardly over, but his involvement in the Titanic disaster would continue to hang over him like a cloud. He would try to clear his name until his death, fifty years later.

Now that government had addressed the Titanic disaster, September saw the first civil law suits appear in American and British courts. As with any accident or disaster, the immediate shock was soon followed by issues of liability and compensation. Under act-of-God circumstances, British and American laws would have held the White Star Line responsible for no more than a combined total of $3.49 million. However the claims for the loss of life would be much higher. Rene Harris filed a million dollar claim for the loss of her husband Henry. It was the highest dollar amount requested for loss of life. Charlotte Cardeza sought over $177,352.75 in lost property damages. At 18 pages, her list presented the highest such claim of all those filed. William Carter filed one for his Renault automobile at $5,000, Emilio Portaluppi demanded $3,000 for an autographed photo of the Italian patriot Giuseppe Garibaldi, Eugene Daly for his bagpipes at $50, Hersh Siebald wanted $250 for 7 parcels of the Hebrew holy scrolls, Stuart Collett for college lecture notes (which were also at $50) and other claimants wanted to be paid for pets, artwork or family heirlooms. Even the U.S. Postal Service demanded $41.04 on the mail that was lost in the hold.

The families of Wallace Hartley and other bandsmen received little more than sympathy. The ultimate insult came when violinist Jock Hume's family was billed by C.W. & F.N. Black, the Liverpool talent agency, for the musician's insignia and White Star buttons on his uniform. His pay had stopped with the sinking, and he died without covering agency expenses. The total cost came to 14 shillings, 7 pence or about $3.50 in American money. On behalf of the bandsmen's families, the Amalgamated Musicians Union appealed to Black, White Star, the insurance companies and the British courts for some kind of compensation. Even in the face of public sympathy, no one wanted to take responsibility for the eight men whose professional lives were conducted in a legal grey area. It was not until January, 1913 that the charitable Titanic Relief Fund stepped forward and gave the bandsmen the same posthumous benefits awarded to other crew members.

Because the wide-open spaces and unpredictable conditions of the sea held so many variables, the governments of seafaring nations dealt leniently with ship owners when it came to issues of liability. By British law, the maximum an owner could pay was £8 (or $40) per ton for lost property, and £15 (or $75) per ton for injury or loss of life. For Titanic, this formula meant that White Star was liable for £690,000 ($3.45 million). By American law, a ship's owner was liable for only what could be salvaged from the ship, plus return of fares and shipping fees for the passengers and cargo that never reached their intended destination. With only 13 lifeboats returned to New York, plus the ticket prices of the 1,522 dead and the shipping costs for 559 tons of lost cargo, White Star owed its claimants no more than $40,000.

Faced with $16 million in lawsuits, which were far from sufficient, the White Star Line and their lawyers rushed to prove that it was not at fault. When one British jury found White Star liable, American claimants pulled their complaints from the U.S. District Courts and brought their cases to England. This flurry of legal action went on for nearly four years. On July 28th, 1916, lawyers on all sides reached an agreement to end all of the lawsuits, and, as a class, capped the payments at a grand total of $663,000. This came to less than 19 percent of the amount requested, so the Titanic survivors ended up with less than they deserved, but in the process, the world had heard many new stories not revealed by the government hearings.

These stories from all three classes spoke of their shipboard experiences and what happened on the night of the sinking. They came from people such as Jack Thayer, Karl Behr, William Mellor, May Futrelle and Eugene Daly. In addition, some of the British cases brought expert testimony from Harland and Wolff's retired Chief Designer Alexander Carlisle, and Edward Wilding, a naval architect currently working with the Belfast shipbuilder. 

In many ways, the Titanic disaster signaled the end of an era. An international ice patrol and new laws about wireless telegraphy would assist and regulate the decisions made by ships' captains. No ship after all is truly unsinkable. Humankind, far from mastering Mother Nature, was still subject to her harsh winds on land and at sea. Soon, the new royalty of American capitalism was brought to heel by income tax and anti-trust legislation, the working class found it's voice in socialism and a war of machines and chemicals, unlike anything ever seen, was just around the corner.

Chapter Text

I’m not sure if you want to continue reading, because, obviously, Jack and Rose are still dead. But if you like looking for lost shipwrecks, and if you want to know what happened in the years to come, well, you should know by now that Titanic's memory lived on long after the Gilded Age had passed into history.

One of her more fascinating aspects was that any recreation of her sinking had to be drawn from eyewitness accounts. With no cameras or casual observers in the middle of a dark ocean, the burden of storytelling fell on those who lived through the disaster. Many firsthand accounts appeared as books in the following months, most notably Archibald Gracie's "The Truth About the Titanic" and Lawrence Beesley's "The Loss of the S.S. Titanic." Although motion pictures were still in their infancy as an entertainment medium, Dorothy Gibson quickly made a movie of her experiences. "Saved from the Titanic" was released in May, 1912, featuring Gibson in the dress that she actually wore while being evacuated from the sinking ship. Perhaps the most instantly popular means of commemorating the disaster was through music. Singing or listening to a song can be far more evocative than simply reading words on a page. Almost immediately after the event, charity records were released, such as "Be British" (one account of Captain Smith's final words to the crew). There were dozens of popular songs, such as "It Was Sad When the Great Ship Went Down," a lively tune sung by American children for years after the sinking. In a time before radio, when families amused themselves by singing around the piano, sheet music was an ideal way of raising money for disaster relief funds. Much of this material is still available to collectors fascinated with Titanic or the events of the period.

But Titanic's lessons also set the tone for shipping safety in the years to come.

Although no nation can unilaterally write international laws, the American and British Titanic hearings generated a body of opinions that set the tone for commercial shipping standards in the Twentieth Century. Senator Smith's Titanic subcommittee hearings produced two pieces of U.S. legislation toward this end. The first was Senate Bill 6976, also known as the Smith Bill, which called for a full review and reconsideration of existing maritime laws. The second was a joint resolution by both houses of Congress to establish a commission that would oversee the construction and outfitting of all sea-going vessels. Lord Mersey's Wreck Commission delivered three strong recommendations to the British Parliament. It advocated improved ship design standards, especially in the area of watertight compartments. It suggested that the duties of lookouts be better defined and regulated. And it erased the Board of Trade's 1894 cubic footage equations with the simple requirement of sufficient lifeboats for all aboard. In 1913, at Britain's invitation, 13 nations sent delegates to London for the first International Conference on the Safety of Life at Sea (SOLAS). This meeting set standards that would safeguard all ships against fires and sinking. The issue of adequate lifeboats was now a given principle, no longer a matter of debate between shipbuilders and owners. SOLAS met again in 1914, 1929, 1948 and 1960, each time reaffirming its commitment to safety at sea.

In addition to all these, one agency took on an active role to ensure that there would never be another Titanic disaster.

In 1914, as a direct result of the disaster, the U.S. and British governments established the International Ice Patrol. This agency was designed to keep the North Atlantic shipping lanes free of floating ice, or to issue current and conclusive warning of areas that are impassible. The Ice Patrol would receive its information from the U.S. and British Hydrographic offices, from similar bureaus in other countries whose ships sail the North Atlantic, and from any craft that reports sighting ice. Whenever possible, Ice Patrol ships would shepherd bergs out of the shipping lanes, or destroy them with explosives if they are too large to be moved. In the years since this agency came into existence, no lives have been lost to floating ice in the area it monitors.

I suppose you're wondering by now what happened to Titanic's sisters Olympic and Gigantic.

Gigantic was still in the early stages of construction at Harland and Wolff when Titanic sank. White Star, now sensitive to bad publicity, quickly changed her name from the presumptuous Gigantic to the more stirring Britannic. An earlier ship with that name had already made the line proud, and a patriotic gesture befitted an era of increasing nationalism. The new liner, her completion delayed by the outbreak of World War I, was fitted out as a hospital ship under an order from the British Admiralty. She first sailed in late 1915, painted white with large red crosses on her sides. Britannic was 48,158 tons, 903 feet long and 94 feet wide (slightly bigger than Titanic). She was a triple-screw ship, able to travel at 21 knots, and carry 2,573 passengers. Her career was short and unhappy. On November 21, 1916 after less than a year in service, she struck a German mine in the Aegean Sea and sank with a loss of 30 lives, although she went down in relatively shallow water, Britannic was lost for 60 years until finally discovered by French oceanographer Jacques Cousteau. As for Olympic, she sailed on through the early 1930s, when she was finally decommissioned and broken up in 1935.

If you want to know what happened to Carpathia and Californian, then I am very sad to say that they both were torpedoed during World War I by separate U-Boats. The same went for Titanic's rival and inspiration, Lusitania, when she was sunk by the German U-boat U-20 on May 7th, 1915 off the Irish coast, the first major shipping casualty of the war which brought America into the conflict.

It didn’t take long for other ships to dethrone Titanic and her sisters as the biggest ships ever built. In 1913, Berengaria outdid all three of the Olympic-class liners with a length of 919 feet. The race for size continued over the years. Cunard’s Queen Mary, launched in 1936, was the first ship to pass the one thousand-foot mark. At 1,020 feet, her gross tonnage was 81,237. The longest ship that ever sailed was the French Line’s 1,035-foot France, launched in 1962, and the biggest ship ever was Cunard’s first Queen Elizabeth, whose 83,673 tons awed the world of commercial shipping in 1940.

Titanic's story also created a strange number of myths and legends that came popping up a few years after the sinking.

Perhaps one of the strangest myths is that she carried a cursed mummy from ancient Egypt in her cargo hold. The art treasures that Margaret Brown was planning to donate to the Denver Museum of Nature and Science evolved into a strange fantasy that was published in a few New York newspapers. According to the story, the mummified remains of a long dead Pharaoh carried a curse, and it was this supernatural influence that led Titanic to her rendezvous with the iceberg. When the private collector who had brought the mummy aboard realized that the ship was sinking, he bribed crewmembers to put it in a lifeboat. The Pharaoh reached America, but he continued to bring his new owner such bad luck that the man decided to ship him back. The liner that he chose, Empress of Ireland, also sank under tragic circumstances. The collector made another attempt to send the mummy home, this time aboard the Lusitania when she crossed the Atlantic for the last time. It can be assumed that the curse ended in the Irish Channel, since it has never been attributed to any further shipwrecks.

Another myth had persisted that all of Titanic's Third Class passengers were willfully and systematically locked below as the ship sank, even though the investigators and attorneys found no evidence of wrongdoing. There was no grand plot to discriminate against the people in steerage, only the tragic circumstances of confusion, poor planning and bad luck.

A lack of consistency and witnesses left the gunfire issue unresolved. Part of the drama associated with Titanic's sinking was the presence of firearms and how they might have been used. As the first lifeboats were being loaded, Chief Officer Wilde distributed brand new Webley revolvers to the other six officers. It is possible that some of the Third Class stewards carried pistols as well. Although no one testified to seeing the guns used for anything other than warning shots fired into the air, rumors continued to circulate. Steerage passenger Eugene Daly was reported to have told two separate stories of gunplay in those last desperate moments. To one person aboard Carpathia, he described stewards opening fire on a group of passengers who were breaking through the gate at one of the Third Class stairways. He later told a newsman about an officer on the Boat Deck who killed two men as they tried to force their way into a lifeboat. "Afterwards there was another shot," he went on, "and I saw the officer himself lying on the deck. They told me he shot himself, but I did not see him." First Class passenger George Rheims told almost the same story in a letter to his wife. The unnamed officer killed one man, turned the gun to his own head and, before taking his life, heroically told everyone, "Gentlemen, each man for himself Good-bye." However, under oath in a civil suit against White Star, Rheims would only admit to hearing gunshots and seeing nothing. The officer who allegedly shot himself had been narrowed down to either First Officer William Murdoch, who was in charge of Titanic when she struck the iceberg, or Chief Officer Henry Wilde, who had recently suffered a family tragedy. Neither body was recovered, and with no conclusive witnesses, the matter would forever remain a mystery.

In a later book called "Beyond the Spectrum", "Futility" author Morgan Robertson would write of a future war in which an aircraft carried a "sun bomb" that could destroy an entire city in a blinding flash of light. Despite his promising start as a futurist, Robertson’s so-called "astral writing partner" soon deserted him, and he could no longer produce. He died in 1915, his prediction occurring thirty years later in a Japanese city called Hiroshima.

In 1927, Charles Lindbergh flew the first nonstop, solo transatlantic flight, but it would be years before the general public could easily fly between Europe and America. Still, for those who had to cross the ocean during the 1930s, there were less expensive ways than aboard the floating palaces for which White Star and Cunard had become so well known. The Gilded Age rivalry between the two British companies, driving the shipbuilding industry to achieve new standards of speed and luxury since the 1870s, finally came to an end on May 10, 1934 when the two lines merged into Cunard-White Star Line, Limited.

But the true reason it ended was only an act of financial necessity.

The lean times of the Great Depression, sparked by the Crash of '29 saw to it that most of western society's wealthiest lost their valuables, including an old and feeble Nathan Hockley, who was so heartbroken that he died of heart failure that same year. Cal also lost his money and, like his father, was just as heartbroken. So much that he fired a gun into his mouth. On the lighter side of things, he eventually found another woman, one much more socially conforming than Rose, inherited his millions and allowed Ruth to live with him in his manor, supplying her with a monthly allowance. Speaking of Ruth, she died in a flu epidemic eleven years earlier. Meanwhile, his relatives fought over the scraps of his estate like hyenas. Around this time, when Germany created it's floating palaces of the air, people looked to the future of transatlantic travel in lighter-than-air vehicles known as zeppelins, but the Hindenburg disaster in 1937 soon put a stop to all that. That same year, Bruce Ismay, who had left the White Star Line to retire in peace, passed away at the age of 74.

When England found itself fighting another war, a Second World War, Charles Lightoller served his country at sea in it's early years, first spying with his wife Sylvia off the German coast, and later evacuating British troops from Dunkirk in the family yacht Sundowner. This action gave Titanic's former Second Officer a chance to redeem himself after infamously allowing only women and children to board the lifeboats under his command. Three years later after that in 1943, Nazi Germany created it's own film of the disaster as some kind of propaganda flick and after the war in 1953, the American motion picture company Twentieth Century Fox created it's own depiction of the disaster starring Clifton Webb and Barbara Stanwyck.

But the biggest retelling came just two years after that.

In 1955, following years of research and survivor interviews, American historian Walter Lord published "A Night to Remember", a detailed reconstruction of the disaster. He had been fascinated by Titanic ever since a childhood voyage on her sister ship Olympic. His book was credible and compelling. It became an international best seller and inspired a major motion picture release of the same name in 1958. Over forty years after her sinking, a new generation had discovered the tragedy and mystery of the unsinkable Titanic.

Kept alive through these books, films and music, Titanic's legend spanned much of the Twentieth Century, fueling the imaginations of those who would find her. Less than a week after Titanic sank, a salvage plan was already being considered. Vincent Astor, son of the late John Jacob Astor IV, spoke of blowing apart the wreck with a powerful explosive to release the bodies still trapped inside. He consulted with the Merritt Chapman Derrick and Wreckage Company, who agreed that such a project might be possible-once the wreck could be located. However, the deep-ocean search that would have been necessary lay well beyond the abilities of current technology. The Widener and Guggenheim families had been considering a similar plan to recover the bodies of their own beloved. On April 21st, Astor's damaged remains were hauled aboard the Mackey-Bennett, and his son gave up the idea as he headed for Halifax to claim the body. It would be over 40 years before the first serious salvage attempt was undertaken. Over the years, theorists suggested raising the ship by such inventive strategies as electro-magnets, pontoons, ping-pong balls, molten wax and strangely enough...ice. The first serious effort to find the wreck was a 1953 expedition, attempting to echo-map the ocean floor. As the years passed, deep ocean technology and fundraising schemes became more sophisticated. By the end of the 1970s, a number of legitimate search efforts were underway.

One noteworthy seeker of Titanic's wreck was Jack Grimm, a Texas entrepreneur who sought Noah's Ark and the Loch Ness Monster. In 1981, he and Scripps oceanographer Fred Spiess claimed to have found one of Titanic's propellers, but like his predecessors, he too was defeated by North Atlantic weather and the high-water pressure of deep-sea exploration.

Four years later, in 1985, oceanographers Dr. Robert Ballard of the Woods Hole Oceanographic Research Institute in Massachusetts and Jean-Louis Michel of the French National Institute of Oceanography, set off on a memorable quest to find the wreck in two ships: Le Suroit and the Knorr, which covered 436 square miles in five and a half weeks over the location of the sinking. The area had been selected through a number of factors: Titanic's last known position; the position at which Carpathia recovered the lifeboats; the speed and direction of Californian's drift as she sat amidst the ice field overnight; the depth of the ocean floor; and the Titanic's possible angle of fall beneath the surface. Over half of the area was covered by both ships.

Onboard the ships were a trio of unmanned deep-sea craft: SAR, Argo and ANGUS. SAR ("sonar acoustique remorque") was a sonar device designed by IFREMER that scanned the ocean bed with reflected sound waves and drawing pictures of what it "heard". Le Suroit had towed SAR directly over the lost ocean liner early in July, but the researchers somehow assumed that their equipment was malfunctioning. Argo was a 15-foot-long, sled-shaped framework of a sub equipped with lights and video cameras to provide a live feed. It also carried sonar equipment, although less sophisticated than SAR's, to help observers on the surface locate what they were seeing. ANGUS (Acoustically Navigated Geological Underwater Survey) was a clumsier looking craft than Argo, designed to carry strobe lights and cameras that took still photos every 30 seconds.

However, because of its limited abilities in a real-time search, ANGUS was used to capture images of submerged objects after they had been found. It and Argo, both developed at Woods Hole, added a visual element to sonar search and discovery. Anything missed by SAR's audio mapping might be more easily seen on video monitors. By itself, sonar would have been able to determine a scattering of small man-made debris on the ocean floor. With this equipment, the joint expedition of French and American oceanographers saw their first sight of Titanic—a boiler lying face down in the mud—at 12:48 a.m., September 1, 1985.

A few miles more and the wreck was discovered at last. She lay in two pieces, almost half a mile apart, amidst nearly a square mile of debris. The first glimpses came through the cameras of ANGUS and Argo, such as the forecastle, the most photographed area of the wreck. In the five days of further exploration after discovery, Ballard took no souvenirs. He kept the wreck's location a secret for two years until the publication of his book "The Discovery of the Titanic". The world was spellbound: the greatest search of the century had come to an end. Many old questions would soon be answered and the survivors who lived to see the day were overcome with emotion.

"I always knew that ship broke in half when it sank," said the now 80-year-old Eva Hart.

But the success also created tension between the two partners. Almost immediately after the discovery of Titanic, relations became awkward between Woods Hole and IFREMER. Dr. Ballard and Michel were unprepared for the media attention, the speed at which the news would travel, and the public's hunger for details. They had a quiet understanding and a simple plan for making announcements and releasing photos. All of this was swept aside by a flood of reporters that began with a visit from a Canadian news team flown out to meet Ballard in a helicopter. The French government was quick to accuse the Americans of opportunism. Ballard, believing the wreck to be a burial site, was appalled by France's apparent intention to sell the story. Between hard feelings and a lack of funding, the French oceanographers did not join the Americans on the following summer's return visit to Titanic.

On July 9th, 1986, Ballard and his team returned to Titanic aboard Atlantis II, a vessel charted from the U.S. Navy. This time, they were prepared to explore and document a wreck that had already been located. Arriving at the site on July 12th, Atlantis II carried a manned submersible named Alvin, which was built by Woods Hole in 1964 and its first deep-sea mission had been to recover an H-bomb lost off the Spanish coast. It was also a veteran of less urgent missions, such as undersea mountain-mapping. Alvin carried Ballard and two pilots in its titanium sphere, connected only by electric signals to the Atlantis II, about 13,000 feet overhead. The craft was equipped with lights, still cameras and video cameras, a manipulator arm, and a remotely operated vehicle called Jason Junior. This 28-inch craft, nicknamed "JJ," was a prototype developed by the Navy and operated by Martin Bowen, a colleague of Ballard's from Woods Hole. JJ carried its own lights and video camera. It was highly mobile, propelled by four electric motors, and connected to Alvin by a long tether.

Visiting Titanic for the first time, Ballard made eleven dives over the course of twelve days, taking photos and video of the wreck. Even as more details of the shattered ship became apparent, there was still no way to see the iceberg's fatal wound. Titanic's prow was two thirds buried from the force of her striking bottom and much of her forward hull was covered by silt.

The artifacts that lay in or near Titanic, were little pieces of a vast panorama, remains of a tragic voyage at the far end of a turbulent century. Although Dr. Ballard told a congressional committee that artifacts should be recovered from Titanic for historical purposes, he changed his mind after the 1986 dive. His own trip to the ocean floor, seeing all and taking nothing, reminded him that the wreck was a burial site and should be treated accordingly. A treasure hunt began the very next year in 1987, when two North American companies, Westgate Productions and Titanic Ventures, made the first salvage dive with IFREMER, led by one notorious treasure hunter by the name of Brock Lovett, who once discovered a shipwreck full of Spanish gold off the coast of Spain. He, his mate Bobby Buell, his assistant Lewis Bodine and the crew of the submersible craft Nautile, reached out with robotic arms and delicately lifted items from the sea floor into a collection basket, emptied upon return to the research ship. The team retrieved 1,800 artifacts during 32 dives, all of which had to be restored to keep them from deteriorating.

The more delicate debris, preserved for over 70 years by high pressure and deep-sea chemistry, would quickly degrade when brought to the surface. Minerals, bacteria, and the electrochemical action of salt water can cause ceramic to crystallize, leather to crumble, and iron to explode at first contact with air. White Star Line property and passengers personal effects are the only human-made objects ever to be salvaged from such a great depth, and now new developments in recovery and restoration have been built around them. Brock and his team commissioned the French laboratories at Electricite de France and Atelier LP3 Conservation to stabilize these precious items. Electrolysis, chemical injection, freeze-drying, and fumigation are among the techniques used to reverse the decomposition or expel mold and bacteria. A range of items from a silver dinner plate to a stack of postcards, from a lump of boiler room coal to the rubber bands of a windup toy, had all been successfully transferred from the privacy of the ocean floor and now they were planning to bring all of these objects to the public space of a museum display, with the Heart of the Ocean, believed to have gone down with the ship, being the crowning jewel. But even after days of searching all over the wreck site, it was no where to be seen. At last, they gave up and expressed gratitude for the treasures that they were able to find.

Unfortunately, this operation struck a nerve with those who viewed the sinking as a vast human tragedy. The U.S. Congress passed two laws discouraging American participation in such ventures. One of these was the Titanic Maritime Memorial Act. This law called for international guidelines on research, exploration, and "appropriate" salvage. Congress' intention was that Titanic should be respected as a burial site rather than exploited as an opportunity for treasure seekers. A 1989 law went further still, preventing the purchase or sale of any Titanic salvage within the U.S.. These ceremonial gestures addressed victimless crimes, and would be difficult to enforce. Instead, they set a code of behavior for American involvement with Titanic.

Among others, Dr. Ballard organized a reunion of Titanic survivors, historians and enthusiasts to oppose against the salvaging. It was to be held in Halifax, Nova Scotia on the first of July, where they and the treasure hunters would meet face to face. By this time, there were at least eight survivors left, Ruth Becker, Eva Hart, Edith Brown, Lillian Asplund, Barbara Joyce West Dainton, Eleanor Johnson Shuman and Millvina Dean.

In the years to come, there would be many more missions to Titanic's final resting place. One such research mission happened in the summer of 1991, when the Russian research ship Akademik Mstislav Keldysh, which was built in 1980 by the Soviet government at the Hollming Yard in Rauma, Finland, was sent to the North Atlantic equipped with two identical submersible craft: Mir-1 and Mir-2, which cost a total of $25 million to build. They weighed about 19 tons and could carry three people to a depth of three and two-thirds miles and stay submerged for as long as 24 hours. They were the only matched pair of manned subs with this capability. Their construction of stainless steel, anodized aluminum and titanium allowed them to operate under water pressure exceeding three tons per square inch. The two identical MIRs are about 25 feet long, 12 feet wide, and 9 3/4 feet tall. Each craft contains two completely separate electrical systems, one of which is a backup. Propellers on three sides make MIR highly maneuverable. The three acrylic viewing ports are seven inches thick. Two manipulator arms can be fitted forward of the ports, allowing occupants to engage objects outside the craft and place them in sample trays. Scientific equipment aboard MIR includes sonar, digital and analog video, and devices for measuring heat, sound, water speed, magnetism and radiation.

During seventeen dives, this expedition collected footage for an IMAX film, a CBS television special and National Geographic. They were also there to conduct biological, geological and metallurgical studies of the wreck and its surrounding area. IMAX had stipulated that no treasures were to be brought back to the surface.

In 1994, explorer George Tulloch had other ideas on recovery ventures. His Titanic Ventures company became RMS Titanic, Inc and won the title "salvor-in-possession" from a US court. He had won the right to salvage items from the ship as long as he did not sell them. In the next four years, he would visit Titanic three times and recovered thousands of items. They were first displayed in 1994 at the British National Maritime Museum and would travel all over Europe and North America.

In 1995, American director James Cameron began work on a film about Titanic.

"I wanted to take present day audiences back to Titanic, to look through the eyes and feel the emotions of passengers who walked her decks in 1912. To create this reality, I needed to experience it for myself. We hired the Russian ship Keldysh and her submersibles and we trained our dive crew using a 1:33 scale model of the wreck. Specially for this production, we designed a motion picture camera which could operate under deep-sea pressure over three tons per square inch and a roving video camera called Snoop Dog, who became a kind of character in the film. During our first dive, images appeared before me just as I imagined them from my research, but with far greater emotional power than I expected, and inside the ship Snoop Dog captured sharp images from the lost world of the Gilded Age."

Over the next twenty-five days, Cameron's team would make twelve double dives in the two submersibles.

While Cameron sat down to work on his script, the summer of 1996 saw RMS Titanic, Inc, launching an expedition in partnership with the Discovery Channel. A team of Titanic experts addressed 84 years worth of myths and questions that had enshrouded this wreck:

Some experts contended that a middle section separated from the bow and stern somewhere between the surface and the ocean floor. As of yet, no one had released any photographs or video in support of this theory.

Central to Titanic mythology was the image of the iceberg tearing a 300 foot gash along the forward end of the starboard hull. This idea was questioned as early as May, 1912 by Edward Wilding, a Harland and Wolff naval architect. Based on survivor testimony about the uneven flooding in the first six compartments, Wilding suggested there had been small damage in several spots rather than a single, gaping wound. Sonar images from the expedition penetrated the clay and silt surrounding much of the forward hull, revealing only six thin slits along the first five compartments, some as narrow as a quarter-inch, confirming Wilding's hypothesis. Although there were scrape marks from the ice, these slits were not hull punctures, but the result of plates that buckled when the iceberg's pressure pushed the rivets out of place. Combined, the damaged area was no more than 12 square feet. A mighty giant was brought down by the smallest of wounds, a random scratch that proved to be deadly.

The conditions leading to Titanic's breakup were further understood after experts examined about 200 pounds of steel salvaged from the debris field. It was filled with impurities absent in modern steel. The iron used by the shipbuilders of that era had a high manganese sulfide content, making it brittle under extreme conditions. Between the 28-degree temperature of the ocean on the night of the sinking, and the stress on Titanic's midsection of her after end being pulled far out of the water as the forward end sank, it was now easy to imagine the inch-think hull plates snapping and shattering. Survivors recalled hearing a range of horrible noises in those last moments. In addition to the falling and sliding of everything not bolted down, perhaps they heard Titanic herself breaking apart.

Titanic author Charles Pellegrino believed that the ship's stern section was crushed by a downblast of water. He suggested that, as the huge object fell almost two and a half miles to the ocean floor, it accelerated to a much higher speed than previously believed. The wake that followed it down may have built into a wall of intense pressure. This force supposedly hit Titanic's stern when the bottom stopped it, collapsing it in a single hammer blow. As many as six decks are folded down onto the engine casings, their contours showing through the sheets of steel as if they were draped cloth. This sudden compression of space would have blasted the contents of the stern out in an explosion of far-flung debris. Whatever the physics of its fall and landing, Titanic's stern was now barely recognizable as part of the wonder ship that the world remembers.

Even worse, as Titanic sat in dark silence at the bottom of the sea, she seemed to be covered with icicles or dripping wax. These phenomena are called rusticles, and were studied by Dr. Roy Cullimore on the expedition. Rusticles are not so much creatures as communities. Several kinds of iron-eating microbes were consuming the wreck, their byproducts taking on flowing, organic shapes that housed still more bacteria and molds. These brilliant orange structures are much like mineral-rich coral, riddled with labyrinths of fine channels. At the time of the expedition, Cullimore estimated that the rusticles had already consumed half of Titanic; he predicted that the ship had a total of 90 years underwater before their increasing weight and continuous leaching of iron caused the great ship to collapse into a mound of corroded dust, indistinguishable from the silt on which it rested. Most of these years had already passed.

But even as these large colonies of rust eating bacteria were slowly disintegrating the once mighty Titanic, many more would come to know her story through James Cameron's film, which premiered on December 19th, 1997.

Jack Dawson and Rose DeWitt Bukater, who once, if you remember, were two young souls that defied the opposite sides of the class system, were, without a doubt one of the most unrecorded events that happened on the ship, their story having been told by an old Syrian named Ara. Interested in knowing more about their romance on the Titanic, Cameron thought it would be nice if one day he sat down and wrote it into the script of his film and later on as a book.

So he did.

And that is what you have just finished reading.

Chapter Text

James Cameron once said that he wished he lived in a world where Titanic was never a famous ship, but he was also known to have said the following:

"There have been many shipwrecks, but there was only one Titanic. The details of her sinking have fascinated a few generations of scholars. The courage and cowardice of individuals and sheer size of the tragedy became legends for the Twentieth Century. Hindsight lets us look back to analyzing blame, but when we ask who should have seen the ice warnings and how many lifeboats there should have been, we lose sight of a larger, more timeless lesson. From the shipbuilders to the White Star officials, from the men shoveling coal to the most privileged passengers, everyone was participating in a consensus reality built on sand. The world simply did not operate in the ways they had been led to believe. Our society is probably working under some popular myths of its own right now. People see this in Titanic's story, they understand that it was more than a big ship filled with famous passengers; they see hubris and tragedy that echoes the Ancient Greeks. The Titans challenged the Gods and the Gods struck them down, banishing them to the blackest depths. People also see examples of heroism and sacrifice that resonate to the core of everything we feel about human nature. In the end, Titanic is not just the story of a ship that sank, but the story of those who lived on afterward, whether physically or in spirit."

In August 1998, RMS Titanic Incorporated went back to reclaim a 22-ton hull section that was reported to be the least successful part of the 1996 Discovery Channel expedition. The section of Titanic's outer hull, 23 by 14 feet, was raised from the debris field to within 360 feet of the surface. At that point, rough seas snapped the tethers, sending it plunging back into the depths. The ocean still seemed unwilling to release its hold on the wreck. George Tulloch and his company then made their second attempt to capture the aptly named "big-piece" They found it wedged, knife-like, into the seabed 10 miles from the wreck, where it had fallen two years earlier. The submersible Nautile made a series of dives, each time carrying down a three-ton lift bag. These were giant sacs filled with diesel fuel, a substance lighter than water. The sixth lift bag provided enough buoyancy to raise the Big Piece. From almost two and a half miles above, the ships Nadir and Abielle hauled it up, reeling in the massive artifact with five-inch nylon recovery cables on powerful A-frame winches. As the hull section drew near the surface, divers checked its condition and secured it for the final pull. At last, corroded but unbroken, the Big Piece was hoisted from the Atlantic and rested on Abielle's deck. In spite of all the care taken during this salvage operation, the prize was damaged in the final moment, bending under it's own weight as it settled onto the deck of a newer, smaller ship. This mishap did little to dim a moment of triumph. RMS Titanic, Inc. had accomplished something that no one had ever done before. A piece of Titanic herself, the wonder ship that may have been the Gilded Age's crowning achievement, had finally seen daylight after a cold, dark night of 86 years.

By the year 2000, at the start of a new century and a new millennium, people began to wonder: Is Titanic a piece of history for all the world to share, or is she the property of those who through their courage and skill, have located and visited her physical remains? The floating palace that was Titanic, lost for so many years, had come back to life as a sunken treasure of the Gilded Age. Yet, as with her sinking, the final opponent was time. Exploration and salvage continued as the wreck slowly dissolved in a mass of rusticles. Far above, in the world of air and daylight, 5000 restored artifacts, attest not only to the myth and legend of Titanic, but also to her human element.

Even so, Titanic lived again, as a subject of study, as a cultural metaphor, as a reminder of human ambition, and how small it can seem against the vast impersonal forces of nature.