Titanic 2012

“What’s that?”

“That you men are all imposters and belong in our brig.”

“Oo-hell-no!” moaned Thomas. “Not more jail time.”

Ransom put his head in his hands at Thomas’ blurting this out. “No, no, the lad means something entirely else—that we have spent hours talking to the authorities in Belfast about a number of murders there—deaths brought about by this plague.”

“The same plague we have chased from Belfast, the same as we are convinced is here, on board, now,” said Thomas, trying to gather back his words.

Dr. O’Laughlin poured Ransom a rum, and Ransom greedily drank it down, and Dr. O’Laughlin asked, “Feel better, do we?”

“Much better, yes. You have a good bedside manner, Doctor.”

“Mr. Lightoller is correct in what he says,” began Dr. O’Laughlin who now offered Ransom and the interns a cigar from a gold-plated tin. “The powers that be on board Titanic will not let what you propose happen; not under any circumstances. Don’t you agree, Captain Smith?”

“I more than agree, Doctor. Even if we were convinced of this uncanny and unlikely story, gentlemen—” He paused to light his cigar. “—it remains to convince Ismay, Andrews, and others with a vested interest. Slowing down much less stopping all engines? Sorry but the owners would have my head—white beard and all.”

“But this could mean the lives of all aboard—every man, woman, and child!” said Declan, punctuating with his unlit cigar while Thomas was coughing on his.

Dr. O’Laughlin had gone about the room to light each cigar in turn from a silver lighter and merely smiled at them. “The death of a few passengers? Not even slightly a deterrent for the likes of these men. Trust me, they will see you as clever saboteurs, anarchists, or worse, sent from Cunard’s Board of Directors to intentionally slow Titanic’s progress enough that it will be disgraced, so the headlines might read: Boondoggle Titanic Limps into New York Off Schedule.”

Captain Smith, also puffing on a cigar now, backed the doctor, spreading out a hand to indicate another headline he spoke: “Titanic Drags Tail Between Legs! Mr Ransom, gentlemen, being late to New York… now that would be the sin. Short of a bomb going off aboard, you see, or one of the boilers exploding, it’s simply not going to happen.”

Alastair took a deep breath of the aromatic cigar smoke. “Excellent leaf, Dr. O’Laughlin. A Cuban, I see.”

“You have taste, Constable.”

“Regardless of what your officers and doctor advise, Captain Smith,” said Ransom, “we lay our case before you, sir, a man who is wise enough to see our point, and brave enough to fight for caution and safety above greed. I have it on good authority that you, Captain, are such a man.”

“This ship is controlled by powerful men,” interrupted O’Laughlin. “Men with vested interest you can’t imagine.”

“Staggering amounts of capital,” choked out Lightoller while Smith remained stoic and silent, listening to every word around him.

Ransom leaned in across the table toward Smith, “Captain, your surgeon and your officers have done all in their power to dissuade you from listening to reason. However, if you continue to stand in our way, many deaths will be on your hands—possibly every person aboard Titanic. I’m sure you’ve heard of the Black Plague.”

“Of course we have,” replied Dr. O’Lauglin, but I saw no such thing in those photos! Wait a moment. Let me have another look at them.” O’Lauglin’s remarks and his going again to the photos belied his uncertainty at this point.

“Well, William Francis?” asked Smith. “Is it or isn’t it Bubonic Plague?”

“I stand by my original assessment—either these corpses are right out of the university freezer used in six months of dissection and study—which is not uncommon in a poor place like Belfast—else they are fire victims. Either way, I see no evidence of Bubonic plague! No sir! You’d cause panic and become a laughing stock should you take action based on this! It’s ridiculous. Plague ship indeed!”

“Constable Ransom has lied to you, Captain,” Declan said, “with the best of intentions—to get you to take us seriously. Dr. O’Lauglin… no one person, medical man or not, has ever seen this disease before, and so far we’ve no cure but to run from it.”

“This is something worse than Bubonic—far worse,” added Thomas. “You’ve got to listen to us, Captain, sir. It’s all true.”

“The hell,” muttered O’Laughlin, choking on his drink as he again stared at the autopsy photos. “These look to be mannequins—bloody burned up dummies, if you ask me.” Shaking his head, he added, “A sure fraud of some sort first perpetrated on 2^nd Officer Lightoller. You know how impressionable Charles can be, Captain.”

“No, Dr. O’Laughlin, Captain Smith, sirs–the disease leaves a man completely dehydrated—” countered Declan. “Not a drop of spinal fluid or marrow in the bones!”

“All fluid robbed of him in hours,” added Thomas. “Please, we have a letter from our Dean and our professor of surgery at Mater Infirmorum Hospital where these bodies—not mannequins were dissected.”

“Imagine every organ shriveled to a tenth its size, sir,” continued Declan. “All fluid down to the spinal fluid gone… bone marrow gone. Take a closer look at the photos.”

Both captain and ship’s doctor did so. “There are no… they have no eyes,” noticed Captain Smith immediately.

“Shriveled to the size of a walnuts!” said Thomas.

“Their eyes’ve sunken deep into the sockets!”

“Do you want to see this kind of thing happen aboard Titanic?” asked Ransom. “Captain, you need to make some serious—” Ransom stopped, interrupted by the subtle sensations below his feet. “The ship is moving at a higher rate of speed.”

Lightoller snatched out his watch from his vest pocket where it dangled on a fob and he glanced at the time. “Yes… right on time, and it would appear that you three are on your way to a Queenstown jail cell after you enjoy a stint in our brig below.”

“Captain, you must see our urgency.” Declan opened both hands into a beggar man’s gesture.

When this failed to move the stony captain, Ransom slammed a fist atop one of the photos. “This disease may not be aboard, but it may well be here now, feeding on your crew, your bakers, your wait staff, your maids, those stokers—picture them all dead! Imagine it. Are you officers of Titanic willing to gamble with the lives of all on board—sirs?” Ransom’s iron gaze went from Smith to O’Laughlin and back again.

Officer Lightoller, Dr. O’Lauglin, and Captain Smith all exchanged a variety of confused looks; they then huddled in one corner, muttering to one another until Lightoller stepped away from the two senior officers, to ask, “How’re your drinks? Need refreshing, gents?”

“Where’s Murdoch?” asked Ransom, realizing the other man had slipped from the room.

Even as he said it, Ransom realized the meaning of Murdoch’s disappearing act, for at the same moment, the doctor’s office door slammed open with Murdoch, holding a presumably loaded gun that Ransom recognized as the British Webley, a six-shooter. The two hefty crewmen were also armed and on either side of him.

Ransom instantly sobered up as Captain Smith announced, “All right—let’s see how smart the captain of the Titanic is indeed, gentlemen.”

Smith had given some coded word or signal to Murdoch to act, either that or he signaled for Dr. O’Laughlin to signal to Murdoch. Either way, Ransom and the young interns were now being put in chains and led away—their protests ignored as Captain Smith and Dr. O’Laughlin laughed and toasted their successful ruse.

Ransom heard part of the reason behind the hilarity over the laughter when O’Laughlin said, “And we took the three scoundrels down without firing a shot.”

“And no one harmed,” Smith added.

This as Ransom and his medical friends were shoved along toward the lift to be taken to some dog kennel below and locked up before being put off at Queenstown.