AWAY ALL BOATS!
Chapter One
Southampton, England
April 10, 1912
The White Star liner RMS Titanic
sat tied to her dock at Berth 44, a black and white cliff reaching almost to
the sky. Black smoke billowed from three of her four enormous funnels and
hawsers as thick as a man’s upper arm secured her to the dock. The biggest ship
ever built sat ready for her maiden voyage.
Robert Drake felt like a minnow
contemplating a blue whale as he stood on the dock staring up at the ship. He
had to crane his neck to stare at the Titanic’s upper decks. She was easily
twice the size of his previous posting aboard the Oceanic, a ship now confined
to her dock as a result of the ongoing coal strike. Rather than face weeks
ashore without work--a living death to any sailor--Robert accepted an officer’s
billet aboard the newest White Star liner when the last man walked away for
reasons unknown. Now, as he stared up at the enormous ship, Robert wondered if
he’d made a serious mistake.
Adjusting his officer’s cap so it
fit precisely on his head, Robert picked up his sea bag and made for the
nearest gangway. He was a young man of only twenty-two, tall and slender with a
pale complexion, short brown hair and bright blue eyes. His blue officer’s
uniform hung on his slight frame, but he was a strong, athletic man who had
made the ocean his home since the age of thirteen, the last five of which were
employed by White Star.
"She’s somethin’, ain’t
she?" a dockworker declared. Robert looked at the man and smiled.
"That she is," Robert
said. The two men gazed at the mammoth ship for a few moments before the
dockworker continued.
"They say she’s as
unsinkable as a ship can be," the man said and Robert shrugged. If all his
years at sea had taught him anything, it was that no ship was unsinkable. The
ocean was infinitely more powerful than a man. But sitting at her dock, the
Titanic did look like the queen of the sea on her throne. Sinking her would be
difficult indeed.
"It certainly looks that
way, mister. Hopefully, we won’t have to test your theory," Robert
replied. The man noticed Robert’s officer uniform and looked a bit envious.
"I wish I was going with
you, sir. This is something you can tell your grandkids about, how you sailed
on the greatest ship in the world for her maiden voyage. Good luck to you,
sir." The man extended his hand and Robert shook it firmly. The dock
worker turned back to his business and Robert headed up the gangplank.
As he walked, Robert tried to
shake a growing feeling of apprehension. He tried to tell himself he was simply
nervous about joining a new ship that he didn’t know inside and out, with a
crew of strangers. But it was more then first day jitters. Something about this
ship was bothering him. If only he knew exactly what.
"Welcome aboard the Titanic,
sir," a steward greeted him as Robert stepped aboard. Before him the
ship’s massive first class reception room looked like the parlor of a mansion.
It was huge! Linoleum flooring sparkled in the light from glass chandeliers.
The much vaunted grand staircase that he’d read about in the papers was even
more luxurious in person, carved out of oak and mahogany with wrought iron
balustrades and elaborate figureheads on the landings.
For a long moment, Robert simply
stared at the beauty surrounding him. All the pictures of the Titanic he’d seen
in papers and in the newsreels didn’t do her the slightest bit of justice. It
would take him a week just to find his way without getting lost. Snapping out of
his shock, he remembered the steward.
"Thank you," Robert
said and suddenly recognized the older man. "Gregory? What are you doing
here?" he exclaimed. Gregory smiled and his bushy gray mustache seemed to
dance as he did so. The two men had served for the last two years aboard the
Oceanic together and had struck up an odd friendship as a result.
"Good to see you again, Mr.
Drake." Gregory laughed and the men shook hands. "They put out a
request for extra crewmen, so here I am," the man explained. Robert smiled
again. At least he wasn’t alone on this ship anymore.
"I’m so glad you’re here,
and I’d love to talk, but I have to check in with the captain," Robert
said. "Maybe we can have tea later." Gregory smiled in reply and the
young officer struck off for the bridge.
Eschewing the ship’s elevators
for his own two feet, Robert climbed the grand staircase until he arrived on
A-Deck. A beautifully carved clock graced the landing and a massive glass dome
capped off the room, flooding it with natural light. He couldn’t wait to take
an in-depth tour of the ship before she sailed.
Robert stepped out onto the boat
deck and look around. Four gigantic funnels stretched high overhead and his
boots rang on the solid teak deck. Out of habit, his eyes were drawn to the lifeboats
lashed securely to the deck; the Titanic carried sixteen wooden boats and four
collapsible type boats, a grand total of twenty boats. Doing some rough
calculations, Robert guessed they could hold about eleven hundred people fully
loaded. The ship carried some twenty-two hundred passengers. His feeling of
dread was growing.
He had only been in one serious
accident in his maritime career. When he was thirteen, Robert was sailing his
boat near the Farne Islands. It was a small boat Robert and his father had
built, and he loved the boat. Suddenly, a squall blew in from nowhere. With no
choice, Robert fought the blow for hours until his sails were torn to shreds
and his mast was broken by the wind.
Terrified, Robert could do
nothing but hold on as his boat was smashed to pieces in the surf. The boy
managed to swim to a small island. There, shivering and wet, he waited for two
days before he was rescued.
For most people, that frightening
an experience would’ve ended their affair with the sea, but not so for Robert
Drake. He loved the ocean even more. But he’d learned to fear the ocean as
well. Her power was not to be underestimated. No ship was unsinkable.
Arriving on the Titanic’s bridge,
Robert looked around. The bridge was huge compared to the Oceanic’s and
completely enclosed against the weather. Her instruments and telegraphs were
shiny and new. A smaller wheelhouse sat against the bulkhead. The glass windows
held a commanding view of the Southampton harbor and the River Test.
There was no mistaking Captain
Edward Smith, the Titanic’s white-bearded commander, as he stood talking with
another officer. Robert only knew Smith from reputation, and what a reputation
it was, too. The man had a perfect safety record and was widely regarded as one
of the most competent and stable captains on the ocean. He was the perfect man
to helm the Titanic’s maiden voyage.
"Sir, Junior Fourth Officer
Drake reporting for duty, sir," Robert said with a crisp salute. Smith
returned the gesture and shook Robert’s hand, looking straight into his eyes as
he did so. His gaze was steady and direct.
"I’m glad you could make it
on such short notice, Mr. Drake. Welcome aboard," Captain Smith replied.
Robert felt an instant respect for this man. He wouldn’t want to serve under
any less a captain. In fact, Smith had trained many of the skippers he had
previously served with.
"This is our second officer,
Mr. Lightoller. I understand you served together on the Oceanic," Smith
said, introducing the officer standing next to him. Lightoller smiled and
extended his hand.
"I just can’t seem to get
rid of you, can I, Mr. Drake?" Lightoller greeted him. The man had been
the first officer aboard the Oceanic and had taught Robert most of what he knew
about being an officer. He liked Lightoller because he didn’t have the
condescending attitude most superiors did. There had been a lot of late nights
and card games.
"No, sir, you can’t,"
Robert said. He felt his stomach muscles loosen. With quality men like Captain
Smith and Mr. Lightoller aboard, this would make the transition easier. Robert
was determined to prove the trust in him was not misplaced.
"Trust me, Captain; Mr.
Drake here is a hard worker and a steady hand. We’re lucky to have him
aboard," Lightoller explained and patted Robert on the shoulder. The young
man smiled to himself. He was going to enjoy himself on this trip.
By ten AM, the first of the
Titanic’s passengers began to arrive. Before long, the entire Southampton Quay
was alive with hundreds of eager men, women, and children streaming into the
massive ship. Robert’s head spun at the eclectic jumble of colors, dialects,
and skin tones of the people from all over Europe.
The super rich passengers wore
outfits that were some of the most bizarre and intricate Robert had ever seen.
They carried with them mountains of luggage. He wondered if they left anything
at home. Some couples even brought little dogs.
As it turned out, Robert found
himself posted at the gangway into third class. Even way down here, the
passengers were fascinating. He was hearing languages he had never heard
before, from distant corners of the world as well as more familiar English
accents. These people seemed to be literally carrying all they owned. Robert
had never seen such chaos at a ship’s departure before. The corridors of third
class resounded with excited conversations as people found their cabins and
settled in.
But at last, by roughly noon, the
flood of passengers had trickled away to nothing. Sailing time was at hand. The
gangplank was removed and Robert watched as the hawsers were untied by the
dockworkers. Imperceptibly at first, the Titanic began to drift away from her
dock.
Just as he was about to slam the
heavy hatch closed, Robert spied two late passengers racing along the gangway.
He considered simply slamming the door and leaving them but something made him
wait. The two men, a slender, blond-haired young man and a rather unsavory
looking Italian man stopped on the edge of the gangway.
"Wait! We’re
passengers!" the blond-haired man shouted in American English, waving a
ticket in Robert’s direction. His dark-skinned friend remained silent, though
his grin threatened to split his face open.
"Have you been through the
lice inspection?" Robert demanded, hoping for a reason to be rid of them.
The blond-haired man shook his head.
"No. Besides, we don’t have
any lice. We’re Americans…both of us," the youngster said, pointing at his
companion. Robert shrugged. So what if they had two extra passengers. The
Titanic wasn’t fully loaded as it was. He waved the men aboard.
"All right. Come on,"
he said and helped the two young men jump into the hatchway and slammed the
door behind them. It was finally time to leave. The deck beneath his feet
vibrated as the ship’s massive reciprocating engines boomed to life. The
Titanic was on the move.
Robert turned and made his way
back up to the bridge. His second duty that day was to stand watch as the
Titanic made her way down the narrow River Test. It just wouldn’t do to suffer
an accident.
Cruising down the channel at a
minimum speed, the Titanic seemed to draw every eye on the waterfront. The
brassy report of her whistles ran out over the entire city of Southampton. A
crowd of well-wishers ran alongside her as she chugged down the river towards
the open ocean. Robert couldn’t help but smile proudly as he stood on the port
bridge wing watching the ship’s progress. The passengers waved and cheered from
the ship’s railing. Everyone was caught up in the revelry.
The young officer looked to port
as the Titanic approached the berths of two smaller liners on her port side.
Robert could see that they were the New York and his own beloved Oceanic. He
tossed a causal salute to his former ship. She would be missed.
Out of the corner of his eye,
Robert noticed that the New York was slowly but surely pulling away from her
dock. Her lines grew tighter and tighter. He leaned forward to get a better
view. Suddenly, a series of loud cracks like gunshots rang out in the afternoon
air, the New York’s hawsers snapping. The ship was loose.
"Captain!" Robert shouted
and pointed at the rogue liner, her stern swinging directly towards the
Titanic’s port side. Captain Smith looked through his binoculars for a moment
and lowered them, his face a steely mask.
"Astern on port
engine!" Smith barked. Robert was the closest man to the engine room
telegraph, so he snapped to and grabbed the brass handle, shoving it to Full
Astern. A moment later, he received an answering ring from the engine room far
below. Robert glanced at Captain Smith. The man was firmly in charge of the
situation, a true professional.
Gripping the wooden rail, Robert
stared at the rogue New York as it drifted closer and closer to the Titanic’s
stern. Only a few yards separated the two ships. He braced himself for a
collision. What kind of damage would this cause? What a way to begin a maiden
voyage!
Robert looked down and saw a
large backwash from the Titanic’s reversed port propeller begin to shove the
New York out of the way. The officer breathed a deep sigh of relief. A tugboat
appeared and her crew tossed ropes aboard the small ship, taking her under
control.
"That was bloody
close," Robert whispered to himself. These new liners were twice the size
of any other ship and maneuvering them in close quarters was going to be a
challenge. That feeling of unease returned in full force and he took a deep
breath to steady himself. He could only hope that the rest of the voyage was
much less eventful.
But why wouldn’t this ugly
feeling go away?