Written by Jeff Norberg

The ship of dreams, as it was called, was one day out of Ireland on its maiden voyage to America. The passengers were made up of the well-to-do and those with nothing to lose, all wishing for a new chance and a new life. George, an eight-year-old boy from upper class England, stayed in his bedroom in a grand suite, not thinking of a new future, but lamenting his lost home and friends he would never see again. He sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the picture of the mother he had just lost. He passed his hand over his mother’s face and yearned for the time before the influenza took her. George was left with his businessman father, whom he obeyed, but didn’t really know. He looked up at a knock on his door and his father’s voice.

"George?"

The bedroom door opened and his father, Edward, walked in.

"We need to get to breakfast."

His father saw the picture on his lap and walked over.

"Why did we have to leave home?" George asked.

"George, we talked about this. I can make more money in America."

"But my friends…and Mother."

"Your mother is not coming back, George. You need to accept it."

Edward took the picture and put it on the dresser. He grabbed George’s hand and pulled him off the bed.

"Now, come on. We’ve got to go."

George followed his father out of their suite. At the entrance of the first class dining room, Edward stopped suddenly. Just inside the doorway was one of the most prominent businessmen in the world.

"The Strausses are here. This could be my opportunity," Edward said.

"Who?" George asked.

"George, why don’t you get your leather ball and play outside for a while?"

"But…"

"George, now."

George turned around with a sigh and walked in the other direction. His father continued into the banquet hall.

After getting his favorite ball, George went out onto the deck and looked over the railing at the great expanse of ocean before him. He let out a mournful sigh. Somewhere out there was his home. His father kept telling him the Titanic would take him to a new home in America. He knew that could never be true. To him, he had one home and one home only, even if he might never get back to it. George left the view of the ocean behind him, dropped the leather ball, and imitated the famous football players his father had taken him to see. He kicked it with his right foot, then ran forward and kicked it with his left foot, and so on. One extra hard kick sent it flying down the length of the deck until it landed at the feet of a blond-haired boy about his age. The boy was dressed a little more shabbily than George, but George paid it no mind. The boy held it and stared at it until George was forced to walk over and demand it back.

"Nice ball," the boy said.

George grabbed it out of the boy’s hands.

"Never seen a ball before?"

"Not one like that."

"Well, it’s mine."

George started to walk away.

"Want to play catch? I promise I won’t hog it again!" the boy called out after him. George stopped and faced him. He didn’t see other children around.

"All right."

The blond-haired boy reached out his hand.

"I’m Anders."

"George."

George dropped the ball, kicked it a distance, then looked over his shoulder at Anders.

"I bet you can’t catch me," George said.

While on an adventure of running and dodging people, Anders and George rushed by Anders’ mother, Mary, who called him back. They stopped, and George followed Anders back to her.

"What did I tell you about running like that?" she asked in her thick Irish accent.

"I’m sorry, Mother. It won’t happen again."

"You’d better believe it won’t."

Mary looked at George, then turned back to Anders.

"Aren’t you going to introduce your friend?"

"This is George."

"We’d better get inside to eat."

Anders’ mother kneeled down to George.

"Would you like to join us, George?"

George looked back toward the other end of the ship and then turned to her. He hesitated for a moment, but his growling stomach decided for him.

"All right."

Mary put one arm around each boy and walked with them back through the door. He was led down the stairs, then down a hallway until he found himself in a large room with long tables instead of the round ones which he had seen in first class. There was big kettle at the other side of the room and a stack of bowls beside it. Anders and his family grabbed bowls and filled them with oatmeal from the pot. His face dropped when he saw what they were eating, being used to the big meals the cook would make back home in England.

"Is this it?" he asked.

Anders’ mother whispered to him, "Be thankful God is giving us this."

George took it grudgingly, wishing for the scones and jam back home. One part of George wanted to stomp out of there, saying he deserved better, but even at his young age he knew something was different about Anders’ family, not just in their surroundings and how they looked, but inside them, how they seemed happy with so much less. George slopped down the food and followed them down the hall to their quarters. The room had four bunks in a narrow space.

"Can we go back up and play, Mother?"

"All right, but be careful."

She hugged Anders. George tried to think back, but could not remember an embrace from his father, unless he counted those done in anger.

"It was nice to meet you, George," Mary said.

They hurried back outside and continued their game. They each took their turns kicking the ball. George kicked it a bit too hard again and it rolled away. They looked at each other.

"Bet I’ll get it first," George said.

They raced neck in neck until George was stopped short by one of the ship’s officers blocking the way. The officer looked at George, then at Anders, before kneeling down before the first class boy.

"Who are your parents?"

"I’m here with my father, Edward Conrad. He’s at breakfast."

"You’d better follow me; your father might be getting a little worried," the man said.

"He sent me outside to play."

"You’d better just follow me. Go on, git," he said to Anders, as if he was shooing away a dog.

He led George into the banquet hall and to his father’s table.

"Mr. Conrad?"

"Yes?"

"Is this your son?"

"What did you do, George?"

"I found your son playing with a boy from the third class section."

"Third class?"

George slammed down his napkin, then turned to his son.

"I don’t want you going near those people. Do you understand me?"

"But Father, you’ve never met them," George responded.

"It doesn’t matter. They are lazy and uneducated. I don’t want you becoming like them. Do you understand me?"

George didn’t understand the reason for his father’s anger, but he was his father.

"Yes, sir," George said.

"Now, go back up to your room and stay there for the rest of the day."

"But…"

"George."

Edward pointed toward the door. He turned to the officer standing there.

"Could you do me a favor and follow him up to make sure he goes there?"

"Of course, sir," the officer said.

That day passed into the next, and finally George was able to go outside instead of being stuck in what became like a prison. A prison in a prison was what he felt.

George wandered around the deck in the first class section. He didn’t see Anders, and he didn’t know whether to be thankful or not. He tried to obey his father, but something about the family stuck with him, even after spending so short a time with them. He walked past a group of children playing, but thought twice about joining in with their game. There were slightly mixed reactions inside him when he heard the sound of his name ring out.

"George?" Anders called out.

George tried all he could to ignore him so he wouldn’t have to face the inevitable. The other children looked up and saw the third class boy standing there. George turned around and walked toward Anders, all the while hearing the taunting of the children behind him.

"George is friends with the poor boy," one of the rich children said.

George kept walking toward him.

"Do you want to kick the ball today?"

"I can’t. My father won’t let me. He told me I can’t play with you."

"Why?" Anders asked.

"I just can’t."

Anders didn’t understand anymore than George did and walked away with his head down. George thought about playing with him anyway, but obeyed his father and walked away. He played with the other children until it was time to go in. His father was already seated at a table, talking to someone who looked important. George pulled up a chair and sat down next to his father.

"I ordered you some soup," Edward said.

George stayed silent.

"Did you have fun today? I heard you found some nice friends," Edward said.

"It was all right. Why can’t I play with Anders?"

"Anders? Are you still thinking about that third class boy? You’re not to play with him, and that’s final."

"Why?"

"End of discussion, George. Do want to go back to your room?" Edward asked with a hint of disbelief that George would be questioning him on it.

A waiter set a bowl in front of George and a steak in front of Edward. He looked at it, then raised his hand.

"Hold on."

The waiter stopped. Edward dug into the meat to examine it.

"I asked for medium. This is medium well."

"I apologize, sir. Shall I take it back?"

"I’ll eat it, but you’d better tell whoever is in charge back there to be more on the ball from now on."

George looked at his soup bowl and saw oatmeal instead of soup in it for a moment.

"Be grateful God is giving us this," George said.

"What did you say?" Edward asked.

"Nothing," George said, then scooped up the soup with a spoon.

"Edward?"

Edward turned in his chair.

"Mr. Straus."

"I need to talk to you about what we were discussing the other day."

"Of course. George, go up to your room. I need to talk to this man."

George left the dining room after grabbing a couple of dinner rolls. Instead of going through the door to the suite’s hallway, he opened the door to the outside and headed to the third class section. He made his way to the back of the ship, down the stairs, and stopped in front of a doorway. He knocked on the door of the compartment and was met by Mary.

"Hello, again."

Anders jumped up from his bunk.

"George!"

George opened up a folded napkin and put the dinner rolls in her hand.

"That was very sweet. Thank you, George," Mary said.

"I’d better get back. I just wanted to give those to you."

"You just got here," Anders said.

"Anders, don’t be impolite. He brought us some food."

"I’d really better go. I’m not supposed to be down here."

"Say’s who?"

"My father."

Mary gave him a nod of understanding.

"Can I go with him to the deck, Mother?"

"Take your coat."

Anders and George looked out over the water and saw what to them looked like a big island of ice in the near distance. They waited by the railing as they got closer.

"This is just like the great South Pole explorers. They must have seen the same thing," Anders said.

"Did those explorers get this close to one of these?"

The ship gave a huge jolt as the starboard hull collided with the iceberg. A chunk of ice flew toward George and struck him on the face hard enough to cause a bruise. George was knocked off his feet and onto his back. Edward, who had already been to George’s room and was now searching for him around the ship, saw them. Anders had steadied himself after the jolt and now stood over George. Edward ran up behind him and pushed Anders aside. He grabbed George by the arm and pulled him up, seeing the bruise on his face.

"I told you to stay away from this riffraff."

He grabbed Anders’ arm.

"How dare you attack my son? Trying to go for anything you can steal, I bet."

Mary stood on the deck after feeling the jolt and racing up.

"Take your hands off him."

A shove on the chest pushed Edward back a step. Then Mary stormed through the main door with Anders in tow. Edward, who was still a little taken back at being shoved by a woman, turned his attention toward George.

"I’ll deal with you after we get back to our suite."

The burden on George’s shoulders and what was to come for him made the walk back seem extremely long. He walked into the doorway of the place that could be where he had to stay for the remainder of the trip.

George sat on the bed as his father paced in front of him.

"I ought to whip you right now."

"I’m sorry, Father."

"First you lie to me, and then you go near those people."

"Those people have names, Father."

"George, why do you have to make this so hard? I’m just trying to make a better life for us."

"So are they."

George’s father shook his head at his son’s insolence. The awkward silence between them was only broken when a loud knocking resonated through the room. George sat on his bed and stared out the window.

George’s father opened the main door and was greeted by one of the stewards, holding a lifebelt in his hands.

"Sorry to disturb you, sir, but you need to put this on."

"A lifebelt? What’s this about?"

"The word going around is that the ship is going to sink."

"But that’s impossible. Not this ship."

"This is not a time for debate, sir. You need to put this on. Captain’s orders."

Edward grabbed the two lifebelts the steward was holding. The steward sped off to the next suite to tell the next passengers the bad news about the ship.

"George, get out here!"

It did not take much shouting for George to come, since he had been standing inside the doorway and heard the news.

"You’ve got to put this on," Edward said.

"Are we going to die?"

"I don’t have time for this, George. Put this on."

George put on the lifebelt and followed his father down the hallway, then out into the frigid North Atlantic air. Some passengers screamed for their lives, while others looked as if they were out taking a stroll, refusing to accept the reality of the situation.

"What’s going on?" a man next to George asked an officer.

"The boiler rooms have been flooded, along with several other compartments."

"Did everyone make it out?"

"Almost. I got to know one of the men who didn’t. His boy, Anders I think is his name, I doubt even knows he is gone."

"I’ve got to tell Anders!"

George shook free of his father’s hand and ran in the other direction. Edward turned around and ran after him.

George made it down to Anders’ room and knocked.

"Anders?"

Inside the room, Anders perked up.

"George?" He jumped up and opened the door. "We’re waiting until my father gets back. He should be back anytime."

"I heard people talking on deck. The men in the boiler rooms…"

"No! No!" Mary cried.

"Ma?" Anders asked as he turned around. "Da will be back, won’t he?"

"You’ve got to come with me. Let’s get out of here," George said.

"Yes, George. Let’s get out of here," Edward said as he stood in the doorway.

George turned around and smiled until he saw water begin to cover the floor around his father’s feet.

"Come on, Anders. We’ve got to leave now. I’m sure your father would want you to be safe. Save yourself for him," George said.

"Come on, Ma," Anders said as he turned around.

She looked at him with a look of such resignation that it was almost contagious. Anders sat down on the bunk and held her hand.

"I can’t leave Ma," Anders said.

"Please, Dad, you’ve got to do something," George said.

Edward looked at the floor and saw that the water was getting deeper. He walked over to Mary and pulled her off the bed.

"Bloody hell! Get up and save yourself!" Edward said.

He held her as she stumbled along. Anders held back, aiding his mother.

"I’m not leaving Ma," Anders said.

"Are you all right to walk now?" Edward asked, turning to Mary.

She nodded her head. George and Anders climbed the stairs to the outside.

George had never seen anything so chaotic in all his young life. He could see how loved ones lost each other in the mob of people.

"We’ll wait for them here," Anders said.

Mary exited the doorway, but George’s father wasn’t with her.

"Where’s my father?" George asked.

"He’s coming," Mary said.

Before George could see his father, the mob pushed them toward the boats. George feared beyond any fear he had ever felt that he was separated from his father forever. An officer guided them toward a boat.

"Women and children first."

"Father!" George called.

He spotted his father in the crowd, but the officer put him in the boat, along with Anders and Mary.

"That’s my son!" Edward yelled at the officer.

"Women and children first, sir. Captain’s orders."

Edward was held back while the women and children were let on. He rushed the officer, but stopped abruptly when the officer pulled out a gun.

"Stand back," the officer said as he waved the gun back and forth.

George sat in the boat, calling out for his father. An elderly lady next to George screamed, then stood up in the boat.

"Mrs. Kennedy?" Mary asked.

"I can’t. I can’t live anymore without my husband. I want off."

"Be quiet, lady," the officer said. "Sit down."

Mrs. Kennedy made her way across the lifeboat and jumped back onto the Titanic. She ran toward the group standing there, then stopped and touched Edward on the arm.

"You go get your son; I’m going to my husband." She looked toward the sky, then pushed through the crowd. The officer lowered his gun and waved Edward into the lifeboat. Edward climbed onto the railing and then into the lifeboat. He sat next to George. He turned his head away to hide a tear trailing down his cheek.

"Father," George said.

Edward turned. George saw the streak left by the tear.

"You’re crying."

"I almost lost you, boy."

George wrapped his arms around his father and laid his head against his arm. Edward was taken aback by the sudden display of affection. He wrapped his arms around George in a gentle embrace. George looked up at his father.

"Can I still be Anders’ friend?"

Edward looked past George at Mary and her son.

"You can be friends with whomever you want."

Edward smiled and ruffled George’s hair.

"Are we going home?"

"George, we’re not going back to…"

"To America?"

"Yes, George, we’re going home to America."

George looked past his father and the vast expanse of ocean.

"Good-bye, England."

The End.

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