Titanic 2012

bones about it, these horrible murders—these are acts of terrorism designed to turn us back to port, designed to leave the ghosts of Titanic in peace”

“Imagine it!” Craig Powers erupted. “Murder aboard Scorpio—two crew members lose their lives while in search of a ghost ship in a watery grave.” His hands and arms went up as if he were writing headlines in the air.

“Fanatics don’t have to make sense, but we suspect that this one is fanatical about Titanic,” added Swigart, “for a belief in Bob Ballard’s desire to keep Titanic untouched by further exploration except by remote submersible and photos.”

“We’ll have this person in custody before we make port in Woods Hole,” added Forbes, a hand upraised, clenching his fist as if grabbing an invisible person by the throat. “Be assured of that. We’re going to comb through everyone’s background. If we find anything that has you stumping for Ballard’s views, you can figure on the ship’s brig for the duration.”

For ninety nine percent of those present and hearing this, it seemed a most logical explanation; there must be a logical explanation. While they had no idea the method of murder or what could cause human bodies to shrivel into dehydrated mummies, the idea of terrorism had been ingrained in them for their entire lives thanks to 9/11 and 2012 doomsday prophecies.

Yes, this was plausible; it made all the sense in the world. Some horrid person or terrorist with a chemistry set had gone about the business of terrorizing every man and woman aboard Scorpio until the traditionally superstitious among the crew might be willing to take up arms, mutiny, take charge of the ship, and turn her toward home.

After all, they were planning to desecrate a graveyard.

People had in the past concocted lesser reasons for murder and mayhem—even mass murder. Now this made good sense; something tangible after the seemingly supernatural Alandale-Ford business.

This theory assuaged the mind so that all aboard could somehow sleep tonight. David sarcastically informed himself of these ‘truths’. The entire ship and crew might be destroyed… might all be blown to Kingdom Come if indeed there was a terrorist plot afoot but at least this was an enemy they knew and understood, a tantalizing one at that considering the alternative.

Indeed, David thought, the enemy one knows is easier to combat than the unknown. Who had concocted the reasoning for such a theory of someone aboard who’d not stop at murder to preserve the ‘graves’ of those with Titanic where she lay? Had it been Swigart? Forbes? Entebbe perhaps? Who had first put forth this story?

David’s gaze returned to Kelly.

He stared long and hard, trying to see beyond the beauty… to see into her psyche and soul, but again he realized that such insight was impossible.

Suppose her entire story of her ancestry was a concocted lie to cover another lie. That she had actually come aboard Scorpio with the express purpose of sabotaging the mission; suppose she was the Ballard fanatic and disciple? Suppose the story of Ransom and the young surgeons was all an elaborate concoction? What kind of fool did this make David Ingles?

Pull one string and it all begins to unravel, he told himself now, and she played me like a violin. Fool, he quietly admonished himself for believing a word of any of it.

Fiction.

The whole of it, damned fiction.

Swigart dismissed them all, confining them to their quarters until such time as he called for the dive, a decision he would continue to discuss with Captain Forbes. Everyone went to their quarters, all but David’s roommate who was asked to hold back, Swigart needing him for what Lou jokingly called a “dirty job”.

Again David found himself in his cramped quarters alone with his thoughts. In order to reinforce his conclusion that the whole of Kelly Irvin’s claims and those of her ancestor aboard Titanic was a hoax perpetuated on him alone, David dug out and lifted his Kindle reader and thanks to Whispernet, in a matter of milliseconds, he brought up his copy of a compendium on the history of that night—Fate of The Titanic by Joseph Kilborn.

David toggled to the pages he had bookmarked, opening the electronic book up to a section on the exact timeline that Kilborn had worked out for that night, and so now he read the comforting facts:

1:30 PM: Starboard anchor raised for the last time, and Titanic departs on her first Trans-Atlantic crossing for New York. Estimated total number of passengers on board: 2227. (Exact total unknown due to discrepancies in passenger/crew lists.)

April 11 to 12: Titanic covers 386 miles in fine, calm, clear weather.

April 12 & 13: Titanic covers 519 miles. Fine weather continues. Various ice warnings received—not uncommon for April crossings.

April 13, 10:30 PM: Heavy ice pack warning signaled by passing Rappahannock, which has sustained damage coming through the ice field.

April 14, Sunday: 9:00 AM: Titanic picks up wireless message from Caronia warning of field ice and icebergs in 42?N, from 49? to 51?W.

10:30 AM: Divine service held in first-class dining saloon.

David stopped in his reading to contemplate what might be meant by Divine. Might the food be ‘divine’ or the chef’s name Divine? A famous fellow of his day? Or a typo so often found in published books now; rather than Divine, might it be Dine or Dinning? He decided it unimportant and read on:

11:40 AM: Dutch liner Noordam reports 'much ice' in about the same position as the California had reported.

Noon: As usual, the ship's officers gather on the wing of the navigating bridge to calculate daily position with sextants: 'Since noon Saturday, 546 miles.'

1:42 PM: Iceberg warning received via the Baltic and 'large quantities of field ice' in latitude 41? 51'N, longitude 49? 52' W about 250 miles ahead of Titanic. Message delivered to Captain Smith. Smith later gives it to J. Bruce Ismay, who puts it in his pocket.

1:45 PM: 'Large iceberg' warning received via Marconi wireless from German liner Amerika (41? 27' N, 50? 8' W). Message not sent to the bridge, deemed repetitious.

5:30 to 7:30 PM: Air temperature drops ten degrees to 33?F.

5:50 PM: Captain Smith slightly alters ship's course south and west of normal course— possibly as a precaution to avoid ice. However, no one knows what is in his mind at this point.

6:00 PM: Second Officer Lightoller relieves Chief Officer Wilde on the bridge.

7:15 PM: First Officer Murdoch orders forward forecastle hatch closed to stop the glow from inside interfering with crow's nest watch above. Mystery as to why it was open in the first place.

7:30 PM: Three more intercepted warning messages concerning large icebergs ahead from the Californian (42? 3' N, 49? 9' W). Message delivered to bridge. Captain attending dinner party below. Ice now only 50 miles ahead.

8:40 PM: Lightoller gives order to look after ship's fresh water supply, as outside seawater is now close to freezing.

8:55 PM: Captain Smith excuses himself from dinner party, goes directly to bridge, and discusses calm and clear weather conditions with Lightoller, as well as visibility of icebergs at night.

9:20 PM: Captain Smith retires for the night with the order to rouse him 'if it becomes at all doubtful… '

9:30 PM: Lightoller sends message to crow's nest to watch carefully for icebergs until morning.

9:40 PM: Heavy ice pack and iceberg warning received from the Mesaba (lat. 42? N to 41? 25' N, long. 49? W to 50? 30' W). Message overlooked. Wireless operators busy with passenger wireless traffic, as passengers find the new mode of communication an entertainment. Altogether the day's six ice warnings show a huge field of ice some 78 miles long directly ahead.

10:00 PM: Lightoller is relieved on bridge by First Officer Murdoch. Lookouts in crow's nest relieved. Warning to watch for icebergs passed between the watches. Temperature is 32? F, sky cloudless, air clear.

10:30 PM: Sea temperature down to 31? F.