“Oh, I’m sure he did,” I say sarcastically. I’m standing up against Charlie with his arms wrapped around my waist, but I can feel him laugh into my neck.
The five of us laugh together. It’s a shared moment of humor that is interrupted by the slightest vibration beneath my feet.
I look at Ben, and we share a realization. Titanic just hit the iceberg.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Half Of Forever by Henrik
April 14-15, 1912
I grip Charlie’s hand tightly. We’ve made contact with the iceberg. He and I lock eyes and it feels as though the hourglass has tipped to the other side, the final countdown has begun, for the ship and for us.
Somewhere off the coast of Newfoundland, Canada, Titanic has sideswiped an iceberg, the result of a last-minute swerving maneuver to avoid impact. The damage has been done, and Titanic is mortally wounded. She had received ice warnings on April 14th, but was traveling at a speed of approximately twenty-two knots when the iceberg was spotted, making it incredibly difficult to turn quickly enough.
There has been a debate for years whether she could have hit the iceberg head on and survived. She likely would only have flooded two to four of the watertight compartments and possibly would have been able to limp to a safe destination. In this instance; however, the iceberg strikes the starboard side of the ship, exposing six of her sixteen compartments to the ocean.
History asks the age old question: how could it have been avoided? Did Murdoch make the correct decision in swerving to avoid impact? Honestly, who can say? If anyone had mere seconds to make a career altering, life-changing decision, can they honestly say they could choose a different course of action than he did? History always looks for someone to blame. And sometimes there is someone. But sometimes, more often than not, tragedies are just that: tragedies. Multiple errors added up to this specific tragedy. True, things could have been different if they had heeded the ice warnings or if they had seen the iceberg early enough to maneuver. But the moonless sky certainly wouldn’t have helped with visibility either, binoculars available or not. A maritime officer trains to maneuver and avoid impact. Perhaps hitting the iceberg head on would not have been as devastating, but that goes against their training.
Titanic is bleeding to death, and we all stand here staring at each other, unsure of what to do next.
A heavy stillness hovers above us. No one is sure what to say and certainly none of us want to be the one to break the silence. We stare around the circle at each other, waiting for someone to move.
“Should we… go up to the boat deck?” Ben asks as he looks around at the group of us. I understand the hesitation in his voice. Everything we do at this point feels morbid and insensitive.
“I think we should,” Sarah says. “I know it feels wrong, but this is the reason we traveled here: to learn. And that means the good and the bad.” She’s right, thatwasthe purpose of our mission. We knew going into this it would be difficult, though I’m sure none of us expected it to be this hard. We’re running out of time to gather any meaningful evidence. We have a limited window where we can safely venture to and from our cabin. The ship will take on water quickly and we need to get back to our cabin before our deck floods.
“Actually,” Eric interrupts, “I think Sarah and I should stay here. We need to get the rooms packed up and all our trunks together into one spot to make the return easier. You guys should go up and meet us back here.”
Ben nods. “Good idea, Eric. You’re right.”
I grab a long green coat from my trunk and put it on before returning to the group. I leave it unbuttoned. I know it’s cold outside, but the adrenaline rushing through me right now has me feeling quite warm.
“Okay, guys,” Ben says. “I don’t know what it’s going to be like up there. If something happens and we get separated or it becomes too dangerous to manage, we all need to hit our buttons, okay? Agree?”
We all exchange glances and nod before Ben, Charlie, and I head up to the boat deck together.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Flesh and Bone by CJ Starnes
April 15, 1912
The boat deck is pandemonium. People are running in all directions, scared and confused. Everywhere I look I can see families and couples in the midst of goodbyes, unsure if they’ll see each other again. To my left, a father comforts two small children, telling them to stay with their mother. I overhear him promise them he will be okay. To my right, a couple on their honeymoon tearfully hold each other as the husband pleads with his new wife to step into the boat. It is heartbreaking. We are on the starboard side of the ship. I watch helplessly as lifeboats are lowering at barely half capacity, with passengers still on board begging to get in, some even jumping. There’s fear in the air so heavy I can hardly even think or breathe.
I lean over the rail, watching the chaos unfold. I look back at Ben, and I can see him a distance away discreetly tapping the camera on his walking stick as he turns in all directions. I wish I could say I envy his ability to compartmentalize and carry on business as usual, but I have a feeling he is struggling on the inside as well.
I hear a voice and a tug on my arm that’s so forceful it spins me around. “Miss Alice!”
I turn and see Edward staring back at me. His eyes are wide, and his hair is slightly out of place. He’s still dressed in his evening suit from dinner. He looks at me in confusion, likely wondering why I am in an evening gown when I wasn’t in the dining room.
“We have a spot in this boat, Miss Alice.” He pulls on my arm toward the lifeboat Officer Murdoch is loading.
"No," I say forcefully. I anchor myself to the spot, making my body dead weight.
“Alice. Come.” He pulls harder and calls me toward him like he owns me. It’s not a request, it’s a demand. I can feel his anger and tension. His grip on my arm is quite painful. I focus all my energy on getting away from him. He looks down at his hold on my arm, as if surprised I’m not coming along easily for him. He’s clearly not used to being rejected or defied. I keep fighting and attempt to pull myself out of his grasp.
“Don’t touch her!” Charlie yells as he steps between us and pulls my arm free of Edward’s grasp. “Get your hands off her!”
