We walk around the side of the building and toward the front. I kick my dress out slightly as I walk, careful not to trip on the fabric. It would be a shame for me to trip and fall this soon into our adventure. Above an awning, I can see the wordsPlatform Tavern.I know this location from my research. In the years since the Titanic’s voyage, the port area has become more of a tourist attraction. But I know that right now, if I dare to turn my gaze forward, across the street, I’ll see her. I’ll see the Titanic. Then this will all be truly real.
I take a deep breath and turn my head. There she is, moored in the distance on White Star Dock. In 2024, we are used to cruise ships being massive floating cities. But in 1912, the Titanic is the most vast, luxurious, and grand ship of her time. It feels surreal to even think of her in the present tense. For now, she is not a tragedy; she is a wonder.
She is the second of three Olympic class ships, the oldest sister being the Olympic, and the younger sister being the not yet launched Britannic, built by Harland and Wolff for White Star Line. Titanic is mountainous, over 882 feet long, 92 feet wide, and 175 feet high from keel to funnel. There are ten total decks, though only eight are available for passenger use. Four funnels extend high above, only three of which are functional. The fourth, for ventilation only, was added to make the ship look even more powerful. She boasts the first swimming pool onboard a ship, among other luxuries like a gymnasium, high-end restaurants, Victorian-style Turkish baths, and squash courts. Even the third-class amenities are superior to that of other ships. If not for her tragedy, she likely would have enjoyed a lengthy career at sea and a relatively unremarkable place in maritime history. She is astounding to behold. I’ve only ever viewed her in grainy and distorted archival photos. But here she is, grand, clear, and in technicolor.
I turn my gaze upward and see the lifeboats on the top deck. Something in the sight of them puts a knot in my stomach. The sight of them serves as a stark reminder of the job we’re here to do. There are twenty total lifeboats, more than required of a ship her size, yet not enough for all passengers. They will not be filled to capacity, though it is unlikely they would have had time to deploy all of them before the sinking.
A porter approaches us as we walk toward the port side of the ship. Eric and Sarah follow behind us with the trolleys. All of us seem to tense up. This is our first proper test. Ben stands tall and powerful. He reaches into his pocket, pulls out some money, and hands it to the porter.
He points toward both trolleys. “Both to parlor suite B-51-53-55, please. Thank you, sir,” he says firmly. The porter takes the money gratefully and begins taking the trolleys toward the ship. The four of us nod at each other as if we’ve passed the first baby step together. We continue to walk toward the gangway leading to D-Deck forward.
Ben looks at me and smiles, his eyebrows raised in delight. “Showtime,” he whispers with excitement.
This is it. I clutch Ben’s arm a little tighter, and he looks back at me reassuringly. He strides forward and helps me step onto the gangway with our tickets in his hand. The walk up the gangway feels momentous, though I think that is the adrenaline coursing through me. Eric and Sarah follow as we approach the doorway. Ben presents our tickets to the officer.
“Welcome aboard,” he says proudly as he tips his cap toward Ben. And just like that, we’re on the Titanic.
We enter into the First Class Reception, an area located at the foot of the Grand Staircase, and adjacent to the Dining Saloon. It is spacious, encompassing the entire width of the ship. White oak paneling adorns the room, which is furnished with wicker and green fabric. Large leaded glass windows line the walls on both sides, allowing gorgeous natural light to illuminate the room. If this opulent space is any indication of the level of grandeur and detail of the rest of the ship, then I must prepare myself to be blown away at every turn.
The officer glances again at our ticket, his eyes scanning for a cabin location, and motions forward to a steward. The young man steps forward and is told to escort us to our cabins. We follow him to the bank of elevators. I watch with curiosity as the lift steward operates the wheel and crank handle to take us up to B-Deck. The elevator opens and we join a gathering of other passengers milling about in excitement. We follow the steward down the halls, desperate to blend in.
Act natural, Ali. Act like you belong here.
I stiffen my posture and try to walk as gracefully as possible without tripping over my dress layers.
As we reach our cabin, another steward is standing outside in the hallway. He appears to be posted outside our door, waiting for us. He stands tall, around Ben’s height, in black pants, a white dress shirt and tie, and a blue wool jacket with gold White Star Line embossed buttons. His dark brown hair is slicked back, and he stands formally and at attention.
The steward guiding us hands off our ticket to him. “This is your room steward, Charles Hughes. He will take care of you on your journey.”
Charles smiles warmly at us and extends his hand out to Ben.
“Mr. Turner, it’s a pleasure to have you aboard,” he says with a thick English accent as he greets Ben. “I’ll be your room steward, so anything at all you need I can take care of, sir.”
Ben thanks him as we enter our adjoining suites, beginning with the sitting room. The room is beautiful, paneled in white but furnished in dark woods and green upholstery on the desk, chairs, and sofas. It has a marble fireplace fitted with an electric heater, and an entrance into the attached private promenade. I walk into my attached bedroom and look around in astonishment. I can hear them making muffled small talk, but I become lost in marveling at the well-appointed cabin. Decorated in the Italian Renaissance style, it boasts high-sheen satinwood paneling and brass sconces. The room has two beds, one closest to the door leading to the corridor, and one on the back wall against the promenade. I take off my hat and place it on the bed nearest the door. Next to the bed is the vanity. A marble washbasin is on the far wall near the second bed. Connected to my cabin is the room containing wardrobes and private bath and toilet facilities. This room connects on both sides between my cabin and Ben’s, but is the only room not to connect to the outside corridor. Ben’s cabin on the other side is in the French style with wood paneling, red carpeting, and red upholstery. Even though there are two beds in each of our rooms, and plenty enough space to accommodate the four of us, Sarah and Eric have tickets for inside berths nearby. Dr. Conrad thought they needed to mingle with other servants of the first-class because, as we all know, the help gossips just as much. The goal was that we all glean as much information as possible, running in two separate social circles. I can’t say I agree with him. I think it’s risky to be separated and vulnerable. It also just seems like a waste of extravagance when we have so much room in the suite; however, the ship is significantly undersold for its maiden voyage.
Charles follows behind us, placing our respective trunks and luggage in our rooms as Sarah helps me unpack. For a moment I lose myself and proper etiquette and move a piece of heavy luggage on my own. I grab the handle and begin yanking it toward me in quite an unladylike fashion.
“Oh no, Miss Turner, allow me.” Charles gallantly swoops in to move it for me. He appears surprised that I would even attempt to move it myself, and I freeze for a moment, expecting him to suspect something is amiss. Of course, I’d be the one to blow our ruse first. I didn’t even make it twenty minutes before letting modern Ali out. As we both have our hands around the handle of the luggage, our eyes meet closely and I can study his face. He’s beautiful. He smiles at me politely, with a smile that extends to the eyes.
And those eyes.
Warm and kind, they are both soulful and soul-piercing. Twin pools of dark chocolate that I would happily drown in.
“Thank you, sir,” I mutter awkwardly. I’m flustered and Ben has taken notice. He seems like he’s quite enjoying it. He thinks I’m struggling to keep up with the etiquette, when really I just find this man's eyes hypnotizing and I can’t quite figure out why. Ben steps away, so no one sees him laugh, leaving Charles and me alone in the corner. I realize I haven’t let go of the luggage yet, and for the life of me, I can’t figure out how to let go of it without making this moment more embarrassing.
“Charles is fine, Miss,” he says politely. His thick English accent is smooth and luscious, like velvet. I could listen to it all day. He almost seems just as nervous as I am. I don’t know why. He’s not the one traveling from the future pretending to be a first-class passenger. I remind myself this is Titanic’s maiden journey. Perhaps he’s new in his role. I give myself a list of reasons he might be nervous. It couldn’t possibly be because of me.
“Alice is fine then,” I correct him in a matter-of-fact tone. All I want to hear him say right now is my name.Say my name.
His mouth is closed as his shy smile turns to a smirk.“Alright Alice, I’m Charlie.”
“Charlie,” I repeat back to him with a nod and a smile before quickly turning away to unpack a different suitcase. I feel the warmth in my cheeks as they turn red.
Why did I turn away from him? Should I have bowed? What am I doing? What should I do with my hands? God, why am I so fucking awkward?There has to be somewhere in this beautiful room that I can crawl into and burrow forever.
Charlie excuses himself, explaining he has to attend another cabin. He nods towards Ben before his eyes meet mine again and he smiles before exiting the room. It feels as though he was smiling only at me, but I worry I’m reading into it in entirely the wrong way.
Finally alone, Ben slumps down into a chair lazily. “Well, this is nice.” He’s admiring the room, its grand stature, and luxurious appointments. I rip my gloves off so that I can touch everything. I want to create a sensory memory of every inch of this cabin.
