Titanic 2012

after Easter Sunday I changed my passage, and why not? I covered the spring fashions at the Easter Sunday races! You know, to learn Titanic will dock in New York the same day as George Washington! What a boon!”

“I see, reporting on the Easter parade of fashions, is it, ma’am?” he replied, unsure what else he might say when he realized the couple she stood with were the well-photographed Astors—Mr. and Mrs. John Jacob Astor. Astor was the richest man on the globe, an American tycoon on his way to New York via Titanic.

“Oh, where are my manners?” the lady traveling with the Astors said, a surprisingly gabby aristocrat indeed, he thought now. “I am Edith… Edith Embler; I write a fashion column syndicated to the newspapers.”

“I see.”

“And you, sir?” She put up an umbrella to secure herself from the sun.

“Oh… just a fellow traveler.” He had to swerve to avoid being struck by her umbrella.

“One with a badge, I see.”

He realized he’d revealed his badge when speaking to Lightoller and had forgotten about it until now. “You are quite observant.”

“Are you the least bit worried, sir, about this platform toppling over? Do you feel that frightful current below our feet?” she asked.

She was right, and more and more people aboard the tender that Declan had said was built for Olympic, were being shoved off their feet, despite a calm, glassine-looking surface. Some were knocked off their feet by the powerful draught that seemed bent on sucking anything too near Titanic into her hull.

Edith Embler grabbed onto Ransom who’d steadied himself via the rail as did John Jacob Astor and his wife. Edith’s umbrella fell from her hand and was claimed by the sea. She shouted, “My word! Well… I mean a boat that can cause such upheaval and calamity from this distance? I mean in a sea so calm as this? Why it’s dangerous. I wish I’d gotten on the George Washington.”

“Oh, please, Edie—we’d have missed you terribly had you left earlier,” replied Mrs. Astor.

As they drew nearer Titanic, the groundswell of this invisible force below the pristine surface and below the platform welled up, shaking the tender violently, causing a collective gasp. Now with everyone aboard the half expecting to go under, holding onto anything stable, the tender reached Titanic and pounded her side with such force that Ransom feared the tender would be split in two. But somehow it all held, and crewmen waiting aboard Titanic at its cargo hold shouted, “Lower your anchors!” even as these men began lowering Titanic’s gangplank. At the same time, Lightoller rushed to the captain of the tender and pleaded that he drop all of his anchors into the water to steady her—and now.

“Look at that, boys,” Ransom said to Declan and Thomas, pointing. Ten men on either side of the Titanic’s gangplank stood like sentinels to hold it in place and steady. Even so the gang- plank shook and swayed and eddied and flowed and pulled to one side then the next like an angry dragon being held against its will.

Ransom and his party held back while cargo and passengers unsteadily moved across, and remaining behind with them stood Edith Embler, feet planted. She had waved the Astor’s off sometime before. Astor had taken his wife’s arm in his and with absolute aristocratic bearing, they had marched onto and across the enormous, moving metal floor which doubled as a cargo loading point above the waterline. Mr. and Mrs. Astor set the standard, and so Ransom worked at keeping his sea legs the whole while.

The cargo and all others now across, Ransom offered Miss Embler his arm as Lightoller returned and said, “Please, ma’am, you must get on board, now or never.”

“I want my bags returned, and I will not get on that ship, sir.”

“Your bags could be anywhere by now, and we haven’t any more time to waste in France, Miss, please.”

“I will help you across,” Ransom assured her.

“I will not be bullied by either of you handsome men.”

Lightoller then said, “All right, take another boat, but your luggage must remain.”

“But my wardrobe… and besides, I have many orders and purchases for clients. Three thousand dollars worth of the latest in Paris fashion.”

“It will be held for you in New York; we must cast off—orders from Captain Smith himself, ma’am.”

“Well then… can I apply for insurance on my luggage?”

“That’s ridiculous! This ship is unsinkable.”

“Perhaps you’re right, Miss Embler,” said Ransom. “You’d be best to take the next ship.”

“Oh bother. Those bags are worth more than I am at this point; should I lose them, I lose all. I’d best remain with my purchases.” She took hold of Ransom’s arm and together they all finalized the boarding at Cherbourg, and the giant gangplank was lifted, and the tender moved off like an enormous tugboat, anxious to return to its moorings.

At last inside Titanic, Ransom said good-bye to Edith and stepped aside to allow busy men dressed in well-starched white uniforms, signaling their status as kitchen staff supervisors overseeing the stocking of the gigantic pantry and cold storage, some shouting when a worker dropped a crate of ketchup that spread about the walkway like blood. Other kitchen staff moved about the crates, selecting tinned goods and loading up wheel-barrows full with wrapped baked bread, already planning for the next meal aboard Titanic. At the same time, all the lifts were full and taking passengers and cargo to the upper decks. A pair of pursers were busy making certain all voyagers aboard were pampered with clean linens, soaps, perfumes, and piles of foodstuffs.

Lightoller passed off his duties here to a junior officer named Boxall. He then called out to Ransom to follow him, adding, “We’ll have to take the stairwell. I hope you appreciate the fact I’m abandoning my post for this. It’d better be legit, gentlemen.”

The last Ransom saw of Edith was of her fearfully standing before one of the enormous elevators, tentative about stepping inside. He imagined her a wonderful lady and he feared for her and every man, woman, and child aboard Titanic.

TWENTY TWO

They could already feel Titanic shuddering as the anchor was being weighed, and like a mammoth being, she seemed to be anxiously trying to turn toward her final destination. Ransom silently cursed their luck; he’d hoped to get aboard soon enough to stop the ship here, but there did remain Queenstown, her last stop before going to New York. As soon as the gangplank stood upright and was secured, and Lightoller felt it safe to leave things in the hands of his junior officer, Ransom, Declan, and Thomas began the long climb up the stairwells and up through each of Titanic’s nine decks when Lightoller was stopped in his tracks by another officer who appeared to be his superior, asking, “What is it you’re about, Mr. Lightoller? Aren’t you supposed to be overseeing things below? That the Cherbourg cargo is battened down? And who is seeing to directing the new first class passengers to their staterooms?”

“I think that would be Mr. Wilde, sir, when we’re at anchor.”

“But we’re not at anchor, Mr. Lightoller.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Murdoch, sir.”

“So it’s fallen to you to be guiding the second class passengers to their staterooms is it?” asked Murdoch, a handsome ship’s officer who placed up a hand to them, holding the trio in place, “Have you your tickets in order, gentlemen?”

“These gents have requested to see Captain Smith, Mr. Murdoch.”

Murdoch studied them with more focus now.

“This is my ticket!” shouted Ransom, displaying his badge, its gold-plated surface gleaming even here in the corridor. “Deputy Constable Alastair Ransom, at your service, and these two lads are medical men, and we’re here to place a quarantine on this ship.”