The Ship of Dreams: Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Titanic remained halted and as frozen in place as the elements around it. The firmament above was as darkened as the dark energy and matter of the cosmos, and the waters below her like a burgeoning black hole whose event horizon was waiting to consume her with each passing moment. The Titanic herself was a blacked phantom in the night, she acted as a beacon unto herself with her incandescent lights shimmering away in the vast nothingness that surrounded her from all around in the Atlantic ocean.

Captain Smith promenaded the length of the glistening planks of the boat deck. There was a hesitancy in his saunter. No doubt, it was the heavyweight of having the sole responsibility for conveying the situation to his men. And so it was, that with each step of his stroll back to the place that he and his officers had agreed to reconvene, Captain Smith carefully considered what he would say to his men, and how he could best conduct himself so as not to create panic amongst them or the passengers on board. He slowed down a little more at the realization that this would be the most difficult announcement that he had ever given and that it was one that would mark his untimely death.

Geoffrey tailed the Captain some several meters behind him. In his crouched stance, he moved about, like a thief in the night, concealed by the shadows provided by the structure that held the giant tunnels in place, which he leveraged to his advantage moving to and fro between each one. It was to his relief to find that the officers had remained stationed at their spot on the boat deck and that it was here that it seemed that the Captain was returning as he had assumed.

Adjourned in their woolen black jackets, the Royal Mail Ship’s officers casually awaited their Captain’s imminent return. They leaned themselves over the railing of the side of the ship, conversing amongst themselves, and trying to discern for themselves if they could make out the glacial mass that lie behind them; their minds were naught for worry of what was to come.

The Captain paused as he drew nearer to them. He would have to summon up as much confidence as he could to instruct his men. Looking to the blank veil that was the starless night sky, he let out a sigh. For as long as he could remember, he had always loved the comfort and solace that they had provided him on a journey, and it saddened him that on what would be his last night, there was not one. But he supposed that was his destiny.

He pulled at the hems of his matching embroidered jacket, straightening it as best he could before he commenced to address his men. He was not sure if he had the strength, or the words, to inform his little skeleton crew that the end may very well be neigh

Even so, he was going to see to it that he would be professional to the end. At that moment, he was going to personally see to it that what remained of his life was all about one’s legacy, and he only hoped that his men would follow in his example, although they did not share his destiny, and interestingly enough, it was something that he found himself thankful for. And so, he proceeded to close the remaining gap between him and his men.

It was in a seemingly perfectly sense of idiosyncrasy that First Officer Murdoch and the other two officers joined the group as the Captain arrived at the scene as he had hoped. Altogether, they were seven or eight of them in total. The Captain now in their presence, made a little circular group around him, waiting to hear what news he brought, and in high anticipation for his orders to set back out to sea.

Geoffrey paused and hung back as they neared his vantage point, and he cloaked himself, hiding behind the safety that a nearby bench provided him. It wasn’t much, but he was thankful that he could still hear the conversation that was to be had betwixt them all.

“Men, I want to personally thank you for making it here so promptly as I commanded,” the Captain started, taking the time to look each of his guards in the whites of their eyes as he did so, unable to rid himself of the sense of responsibility he had and felt over them. “There has been news and recent developments that Mr. Andrews has brought to me and acting in his advisement I will inform these things onto you as I best see fit. But for all intents and purposes, I find it most befitting that I do so in the privacy of the Captain’s Bridge. So, if you would all abandon your posts and follow me there it would be greatly appreciated. That is all. Make it so,” he finished with another thorough scan of the men standing before him.

There was a distinctive chatter amongst the men as the Captain marched away from them. They looked to and fro one another, each man as perplexed as the man standing at his side. First Officer looked fixedly back behind them in the direction of the berg, feeling the whole thing was his fault.

“Alright, you heard him. Captain’s bridge it is,” he ordered,” and on his mark, they all took off after the Captain, who had already nearly made it to the confines of the bridge.

The Captain paused when he reached the door of the bridge. Still determined to be a nobleman to the end, he held it ajar for all of his nautical comraderies. He hoped that he could give them all something to remember him by. One after one, they filed into the room, Murdoch being the last to do so, and still, he remained firmly rooted at the door.

Even once they had all conjugated inside the contents of the room, he stayed in this position. He had had an amazing life as a Captain. As acting Captain of Titanic, for what remained left of her short life, he took in all of its glory. He watched as a kind of guilty over watcher to the passengers in their naivety that remained on the deck, free from the worries and burden at the situation at hand.

He watched as a couple walked by arm in arm, leaning on one another’s shoulders for a nightcap stroll. A group of rowdy Irish men passed by as well, drunk, and disorderly by the likes of it, singing some kind of foreign Celtic folk music. It was like they were all completely oblivious to the situation at hand, or in such a state of denial, and he envied them for it.

To each of them, all was well. They had not a worry in the world, and the Captain alone carried the accountability and liability of them. Despite everything he’d done, this is what it would come to. He managed a fawned smile to himself. At the very least, he could say that he gave it his all. It was on this note that he entered into the Captain’s Bridge after his men.

Captain Smith crossed the spacious bridge with long strides to the place beside the great steering wheel. He steadied himself on the polished wooden construct, scrutinizing it for a second as if he was inspecting it to see if it was dirty. This might have gone misinterpreted by the men because it was with nervousness as he carefully thought of what to say to his men. He also did so out of reflection of the years out at sea, and how the wheel before him acted to symbolize his nautical life.

Outside in the chilling environment, Geoffrey prowled over to the outsides of the bridge, daring himself to get as close to it, as he had with the forecastle. To his relief, it was comprised of many great large windows in stark juxtaposition with the small portholes of the previous room. Like a rock climber carefully grasping at a ledge, preventing themselves from a fall, he allowed himself to be as attached to it as he listened in.

Inside the room, the Officers formed in single-file formation on the opposite side of the room as their Captain. In all seriousness, not a word was spoken, as an unmistakable pressure-filled the atmosphere all around them. They waited, breaths held, as their Captain surveyed the room.

He studied the tiller order that signified the evidence of Titanic’s errored evasive maneuver. It brought a slight grimace to his face. Still, he scanned the room, noting the electronic apparatus blinking its five flashing red lights, cueing its sailors that there were as many flooded compartments, and what this should indicate. Then his gaze finally rested on the men in front of him to whom he was solely responsible, which was the hardest part about the whole thing.

“Gentlemen, it is hard for me to find the words to tell you of what we face,” the Captain started, choosing each of his words carefully. “I have assessed the situation with are highly esteemed engineer in Mr. Andrews, and upon his advisement, I have the heavy burden of delivering some unfortunate news unto you all. It seems that as of now, we have found ourselves in a most perilous position. It would seem that the Titanic will sink and that we must be ready to abandon ship as soon as possible. I just want you all to know that it has been both an honor and a privilege to valiantly work beside each of you. Having said that, I want you all to listen to what the ship’s last commands. Mr. Murdock, you will oversee the passengers. Mr. Lightoller you will have the boats uncovered and sent out. Mr. Bexel, I want you to quart all hands and get to the boat stations. Mr. Moody, you will assist Lightoller. And finally, I would like it if Mr. Wilde and Pitman remain here on the bridge. Matthew, as you see to your task, I would very much like it if you could have the staff instruct the passengers to put their life vests on. Everything will be done quietly and calmly. There must be no alarm or panic. I will give the word when the boats must be loaded with the women and children only. Now, carry on please.”

“No alarm or panic,” the third-party observer exclaimed underneath his breath, bringing his hands to cover his mouth the second he did so, hoping that he had not been overheard. Simply overhearing the conversation sent chills of angst creeping down one’s spine. One thing was for certain, in that he had to commend those seven to eight men in the room, for staying so calm, cool, and collected in listening to the unnerving instructions of their Captain.

Even so, the anxiety-ridden Archibald’s mind spun in considering what his best options for survival were. The Captain had said that he would be giving the order for women and children soon, so there was that to account for. He also had to factor in the fact that Titanic would sink in about an hour and a half, and that there was only enough for about half of the populace, this making up for the males, and more likely than not, a vast majority of the lower class passengers.

Really what he was struggling with was in determining whether or not he should make a straight shot to the boat deck to see about boarding one or making a dash to his room for the sake of his life vest. There was also the option of seeing if he could get one on the deck from one of the crew, but the latter two options meant precious time.

Although it went against his better judgment, Geoffrey decided that he would double back to his room and get his life jacket. The idea of being stranded out in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean in a lone collapsible lifeboat without any floatation device seemed a poor decision, and it was the surest way of making sure that he had one, and his room wasn’t too far away from his current position.

Geoffrey elicited great attention and suspicion to himself, deserting the notion of doing otherwise as he sprinted the way back to his first-class cabin. Most noticeably, he received the chunk of it as he descended the great grand stairwell, where many of the finely dressed passengers stopped and gawked at his erratic behavior.

Even in his frantic state, Geoffrey was extremely aware of and observant of his surroundings. It was probably a direct consequence of the adrenaline coursing through his veins. There was something about the moment that stuck out to him. He was shocked to see that amongst his judgmental skeptics was the multi-millionaire, Benjamin Guggenheim, who studied Geoffrey like some kind of wild animal at the zoo.

In his heightened alertness, Geoffrey abruptly came to a halt midway down the spiraling oak staircase. He was suspended for the moment, and part in terror in his recognition of the scene before him, the crystalline chandelier above him familiarizing him with it all the more. This had been the very scene of the dream he had had before boarding, and he hoped that it was not a type of omen or premonition of things to come. The thought still lingering in and weighing in on his mind, Geoffrey continued onwards in his mad dash back to his room.

The door slammed shut behind Geoffrey as he entered the room. He did not care if he was causing a commotion on the luxury liner anymore. All thoughts of a story were gone from his mind. He had entered into a state of pure survival mode, and he had an hour, two tops, to ensure that he came out with his life. In this would be frenzy mode, Geoffrey threw open his closest and pulled from out of its contents the little white cork life vest.

Geoffrey then gave the room a quick glance over, wondering if there was anything else that he would be needed. His eyes stopped at the tabletop beside his bed, the stationary on it, and the pen and ink that had fallen to the floor and considered if he should fetch them as he left. There was little hesitancy as Geoffrey exited the room without them as he made his way back to the boat deck. He no longer was contracted to write the story of the century. He was living it.

Back in the grand hallway to the stairwell, Geoffrey was surprised to find that Mr. Guttenheim had not abandoned his spot by it. Rather, he sat comfortably in one of the many tabletop chairs that sat on either side of it smoking a cigar. One of the Titanic’s stewardesses passed him by instructing the nearby passengers to put on their life-saving devices. Mr. Guttenheim thought nothing of it. Geoffrey thought to tell him that he should take the stewardess up on her advice but decided against it. He figured he should figure it all out for himself soon enough. The very same Guttenheim would be instructed one more time in the passing hour to which he famously quipped, “We are dressed in our best, and prepared to go down like gentlemen.”

Back on the deck, Geoffrey turned his head either way in order to best estimate where the first boats would be launched. He was not sure if they did them according to number, or by the location to the forefront of the ship, nor whether or not it depended on the side of the ship. To his relief, he heard a distinguishing murmuring going on not far away near lifeboats two through eight, and so, he proceeded to make his way towards them.