EVERYTHING’S NOT LOST
Chapter One
"Alright, now close your
eyes." My father covered my eyes with his hands. "Open the
doors!" he shouted to someone who I obviously, couldn’t see. It was so
windy outside the large shipyard, I could barely stand up straight, let alone close
my eyes! I could hear large doors opening in front of me, as if they were large
red barn doors, that echo. "Open them." He dropped his hands to his
sides as I opened my eyes. And there she is. The Titanic.
My father’s pride and joy, his
masterpiece. To me, it merely looks like a rather large ship, nothing that
special. I know how important the ship is to my father, he spent months working
on the blueprints and practically had a cot at the White Star Line shipyard. I
am sort of amazed myself, that whenever my father was gone, I would always just
stare at the blueprints, in awe. I have the whole ship practically memorized.
I’m not sure when I’ll ever need that information, but I suppose it’s a good
thing when you know where you’re going on such a large ship.
Her bow was away from us (I
suppose boats are always considered female, I’ve never been quite sure of why),
so the stern read in simple white lettering, RMS TITANIC.
"Well, what do you
think?" he asked me, taking a step to my right. I glanced at him and then
back at the ship. He has this enormous smile on his face, as if he was a child
seeing a Christmas tree light up. It looks like a ship to me. What am I
supposed to actually say to him, so I won’t break his spirit? "You don’t
like it," he decided immediately.
"No, no!" I argued,
taking his arm. "It’s…it’s just…it’s so big."
"She’s the largest ship in
the world," a voice uttered behind us. Both of us turned and standing
there was a man with a large brown handlebar mustache and matching hair,
wearing a brown suit. He was the same height as my father, so he looked
somewhat down at me. "Hello, Thomas."
"Bruce, hello." Whoever
this Bruce fellow was, he was making me uncomfortable. He seemed to be staring
at me, eyeing me up and down. I don’t particularly liked being stared at like
that, especially by the likes of this grease ball. "You’re one of the
first to see her, Ann," my father continued.
"Isn’t she marvelous?"
Bruce asked me. I managed a nod.
"My daughter isn’t much into
shipbuilding!" my father laughed.
"Your daughter?" He
nodded.
"Yes. This is Antoinette.
Ann, this is Bruce Ismay, one of the few who envisioned Titanic for what she is
right now." Ismay took this opportunity to his full advantage, taking my
hand.
"Pleasure to meet you,"
he said, with an incredibly creepy grin.
"You, too," I lied,
showing a fake smile. I glanced at my father, my hand still in Ismay’s, begging
for him to realize how uncomfortable I was.
"Well, anything you’d like
to see?" my father asked quickly, noticing the discomfort, taking my hand out
of Ismay’s and wrapping it around his arm. Ismay kept his eyes on me, however,
and I could feel his eyes burning into me. I shrugged.
"I don’t see any
lifeboats," I said suddenly.
"She’s an unsinkable ship,
Miss Andrews! Nothing can sink her!" Ismay said with a hearty laugh. I
stared at him skeptically. "Really, she is. You do read the papers, don’t
you?"
"Sure do," I said, with
a large smile. I can read, you idiot.
"They’re on the side,
darling," my father said, pointing them out to me. "See them?" I
nodded. I could now see workers putting their final touches on Titanic, whereas
before the ship seemed to be empty—it was now bubbling with energy. I see also
what looked to be lifeboat drills. Men were bringing the boats up and down the
side of the ship, yelling to one another.
"Thomas, those lifeboats are
a waste of deck space," Ismay muttered to my father.
"You never can be too
sure," was my father’s reply. "See, Ann, they’re brand-new lifeboats,
new design. You can actually fit a row of boats inside those—" He gestured
to the boat’s sitting on Titanic’s desk for a second time.
"Waste of beautiful
hardwood," Ismay said, with an enormous sigh. My father tried not to roll
his eyes.
"To you, Bruce, they are. To
me they keep my passengers content."
"There aren’t that
many," I mentally noted aloud as I counted the lifeboats. My father grimly
nodded, before glancing over at Ismay, who was looking away for a mere moment.
Ismay. That’s when there was a crash. Everyone jumped and turned in the general
direction of the clamping sound. One of the lifeboats had fallen off of the
pulley system and fallen onto the cement floor, bouncing like a rubber ball.
"We only have so many
boats!" Ismay shouted, brushing past us and into the building that held my
father’s ship. "Don’t you have any idea of what you’re doing!?" he
shouted at the men on board.
"Not really, sir," one
Irishman replied. "This pulley system is difficult—"
"Must I show you
everything?" was Ismay’s reply as he ran towards the flipped over
lifeboat. I glanced at my father, who was trying not to laugh. "Lifeboats
my eye!" he yelled angrily, kicking the boat.
"He needs to learn
patience," I decided out loud. He nodded, trying not to laugh. He then
turned serious.
"There do need to be more
lifeboats, however," he told me suddenly.
"Then, put them on."
"I was overruled by Bruce
and the White Star Line."
"Can’t you appeal?"
"Tried. It was no use. I
thought about perhaps putting more lifeboats on deck once we get to New York,
but it seems so useless to do when Ismay will order them off once he realizes
they’re there." He sighed, running a hand through his graying hair.
"The ship’s made of iron, Ann. It can sink. That’s the frightening
part." He paused. "Titanic’s slogan was to read, practically
unsinkable—the papers took out the practically part." He looks worried
now.
"Daddy, I’m sure the maiden
voyage will be fine," I attempted to reassure him. He glanced at me and
when I smiled, he sighed heavily.
"Yes, I suppose you’re
right." He stared up at his masterpiece once again. "And we’ll be
there to see how everyone reacts."
"It’s incredible," I
decided suddenly. He pointed to Titanic suddenly, squeezing my hand.
"…And one day, my
Antoinette, she’ll be yours. One day."