TITANIC: A STORY TOLD
Chapter Four
A CNN news story could be heard in the
background of the house in Ojai, a live satellite feed from the deck of the
Keldysh, intercut with the CNN studio.
The announcer looked at the teleprompter.
"Treasure hunter Brock Lovett is best
known for finding Spanish gold in sunken galleons in the Caribbean. Now he is
using deep submergence technology to work two and a half miles down at another
famous wreck...the Titanic. He is with us live via satellite from a Russian
research ship in the middle of the Atlantic...hello Brock?"
Brock signaled to the film crew.
"Yes, hi, Tracy. You know, Titanic is
not just A shipwreck, Titanic is THE shipwreck. It's the Mount Everest of
shipwrecks."
The CNN report was playing on a television
set in the living room of a small, rustic house. It was full of ceramics,
figurines, folk art, the walls crammed with drawings and paintings, things
collected over a lifetime.
A glassed-in studio was attached to the
house. Outside it was a quiet morning in Ojai, California. In the studio, amid
incredible clutter, an ancient woman was throwing a pot on a potter's wheel.
The liquid red clay covered her hands, hands that were gnarled and age-spotted,
but still surprisingly strong and supple. A woman in her late thirties was
assisting her.
The news report continued.
"I've planned this expedition for three
years, and we're out here recovering some amazing things...things that will
have enormous historical and educational value."
"But it's no secret that education is
not your main purpose. You're a treasure hunter. So what is the treasure you're
hunting?"
"I'd rather show you than tell you, and
we think we're very close to doing just that. Everyone knows the stories of
Titanic--the bravery, the heroism, the band playing up to the end--but I'm
interested in the untold stories, the stories locked away under water for
eighty-four years."
The old woman's name was Rose Calvert. Her
face was a wrinkled mass, her body shapeless and shrunken under a one-piece
African-print dress. But her eyes were just as bright and alive as those of a
young girl.
Rose got up and walked into the living room,
wiping pottery clay from her hands with a rag. A Pomeranian dog got up and came
in with her.
The younger woman, Lizzy Calvert, rushed to
help her.
Rose walked closer to the television.
"Turn that up please, dear."
As Lizzy turned up the sound, Rose's eyes
focused on the screen.
"Your expedition is at the center of a
storm of controversy over salvage rights and even ethics. Many are calling you
a grave robber."
"Nobody called the recovery of the
artifacts from King Tut's tomb grave robbing. I have museum-trained experts
here, making sure this stuff is preserved and catalogued properly. Look at this
drawing, which was found today..."
The video camera panned off Brock to the
drawing, in a tray of water. The image of the woman with the necklace filled
the screen.
"...a piece of paper that's been
underwater for eighty-four years...and my team are able to preserve it intact.
Should this have remained unseen at the bottom of the ocean for eternity, when
we can see it and enjoy it now?"
Rose was galvanized by this image. Her mouth
hung open in amazement.
Squinting to see the picture more closely,
she exclaimed in surprise, "I'll be God damned."