EVERYTHING’S NOT LOST
Chapter Twenty-Two
I followed my father into what
looked to be a worker’s only area, or maybe it was the Captain’s work space,
and he dropped my hand for the first time since we left the suite. He took the
blueprints I was holding and his and spread one blue sketching out across a
long table, holding it down straight with a gold paper holder that looked to be
a miniature Titanic.
"Most unfortunate,
Captain," Ismay’s blocked voice rang through the room like a dagger. He
had found us as we were making our way in here and felt the need to follow us.
He’s still a scumbag. He has a blood-stained cloth filled with ice to his nose
and my father glanced over his shoulder at him—without saying a word. It’s nice
to know my little fist can cause that much damage.
"What happened to you?"
asked the officer I didn’t know.
"Banged my nose," he
replied coolly. Well, it must’ve been really long—His lies are endless. I held
back the sudden urge to roll my eyes.
Other officers seemed to flood
into the room, one by one, just as the water had done to me in the Hell known
as Titanic’s boiler room and storage. The officer that knew his ship terms had
followed us in here, and then Will came into view. Nobody seemed to speak as my
father stared at the blueprints in front of him. Will gently touched my
shoulder and I jumped.
"Are you alright?" he
asked softly. "You look like you’ve been drenched."
"I’m okay," I reassured
him as his hand dropped to his side. I looked over his shoulder and didn’t see
Harry. "Have you seen Harry?" Will shook his head.
"He’s around," he
attempted to reassure me. I managed a slight nod. I hope he’s okay—I just hope
he didn’t go looking for me, which might have been the case. I hope he was
somewhere when that iceberg hit where water didn’t immediately impact him, as it
did me. I’m sure he’s okay, though. Think positive.
My father hesitated and then
pointed to the blueprint as I leaned against the doorway of the room.
"Water, fourteen feet above the keel in ten minutes, in the forepeak, in
all three holds and in boiler room six," he said.
"That’s right, sir,"
said the unnamed officer. My father shot a look at me, as if wanting me to say
something.
"Was is almost completely
flooded, Antoinette?" he asked me.
"It was getting there,"
I responded. Will glanced over at me, his eyes wide in shock.
"You were down there when
the ship hit?" he hissed into my ear. I nodded. I am now under the
assumption Titanic hit an iceberg. Nobody has told me otherwise. Ismay then
sighed heavily, rolling his eyes.
"When can we get underway,
damn it?" he asked, frustrated.
"Oh, shut up!" I
screamed at him. The ship’s sinking! We won’t be going anywhere now!
"Antoinette, behave
yourself!" my father’s yelled, his voice trying to sound full of anger—To
me, he just sounds worried. Ismay got lucky. Had my father not said I word, I
would’ve went for his throat.
"I can always give him
another broken nose," I mumbled, but I made sure I was loud enough so
everyone in the room could hear. Ismay turned a deep crimson. Will tried not to
smile at that, but the Captain gave me a look of shock, and then he looked
happy—as if he had wanted to punch Ismay for so long, but never could. Wait,
wait, back to the problem at hand!
"When can we get
underway?" Ismay repeated, this time trying to hide his red face.
"That’s five compartments!"
my father exclaimed at him. "She can stay afloat with the first four
compartments breached, but not five." He paused. "Not five." My
mind went back to what he said the day of the tour, about that extra swimming
pool… "As she goes down by the head, the water will spill over the tops of
the bulkheads at E deck, from one to the next, back and back, there’s no
stopping it." The Captain then gestured to the pumps on the blueprint.
"The pumps," he said,
"We open the pumps—" My father shook his head.
"The pumps buy you time, but
minutes only." He stopped short. "From this moment," he said,
his voice cracking, "no matter what we do, Titanic will…founder."
"But, this ship can’t
sink!" Bruce exclaimed. My father turned to face him.
"She’s made of iron, sir. I
assure you, she can, and she will. It is a mathematical certainty."
My mind flooded back to
Southampton, when my father had first shown Titanic to me proudly. There was
this conversation between him, Ismay and myself and once Ismay left to yell at
someone, which wasn’t that unusual, my father had turned to me. He told me,
"The ship’s made of iron, Ann. It can sink. That’s the frightening
part." I remember this long pause from him before he had continued.
"Titanic’s slogan was to read, practically unsinkable—the papers took out
the practically part."
I gulped, my eyes welling up with
tears.
My father’s dreams are shattered.
I had reassured him the voyage would be fine, that the maiden voyage of Titanic
would go off without a single glitch. Turns out, one glitch can truly ruin
everything.
"How much time?" The
Captain asked him. There was this silence from my father as he stared intently
at the blueprints.
"An hour," he replied
hoarsely. "Two at the most." I now see out of the corner of my eye
more officers approaching the doorway to the room, but none of them are Harry,
all standing behind Will. The Captain cleared his throat.
"And how many aboard, Mr.
Murdoch?" he asked Will. Will looked to be in a state of panic, but began
to stammer.
"Two thousand, two-hundred
souls on board, sir." Why did he ask that? Oh no, the lifeboats. There
weren’t enough for everyone. My father and I had discussed that the day before
we were to board, too…My heart cracked a little bit more. Half of the people on
this ship wouldn’t make it to New York, would they? Even though I want to cry,
I know I can’t. I can’t just stop myself to mourn. There will always be time
for that later.
I glanced over at Will, who had
the same look of shock and disbelief on his face that I did. I can’t believe
this. Ismay, the jerk, just had to have the ship look so beautiful, without
lifeboats. I opened my mouth to ask him how many lifeboats there were, but the
Captain took my lead, turning to face the President of the White Star Line.
"Well," he breathed,
"I believe you may get your headlines, Mr. Ismay."