1912

On an overcast day, April 10th, 1912, to be exact, White Star Dock, Berth 44 Dock 4 in Southampton was in a state of jubilee as folks from all corners of Great Britain and the world came to witness the maiden sailing of the “unsinkable” RMS Titanic.

The vibrant streets of Southampton teamed with thousands of passengers and well-wishers awaiting the departure of the Titanic. Pubs were full, hotels booked full, and buskers played their music, sang their songs, and danced amongst the wave of people passing by. From lamp post to lamp post, building to building, banners, flags, and pennants were strung throughout Southampton decorating the streets.

We arrived at Berth 44 via a boat train from the South West Hotel after our main train arrived at the Southampton Terminus Terrace from London. I was slightly overwhelmed by the thousands of passengers and wondered what adventure the trip on the Titanic would provide them. As we stood in line at pre-check-in, I nervously checked our tickets, one for me, Thomas, and the other for my daughter, Elizabeth. As I held her close, I also reflected on the adventures that awaited Elizabeth in America.

A welcoming banner at the entrance stretched across the dock that read, White Star Liner, White Star Dock. Waiting to board near the gangway at the port side bow, we looked around in absolute awe over the sheer length and size of the Titanic, which was the now largest moving man-made object to date. Its four funnels stood high into the sky, towering over everyone and everything as black smoke streamed out of them, an omen that departure was soon.

Before boarding, a health inspector performed a mandatory health screening below the gangway. Second and Third Class women and children were permitted to board first after inspection, followed by single men. As third-class passengers, we boarded along the bottom of the ship at the bow and stern, while second-class boarded in the mid-ship.

As Elizabeth and I passed our health inspection and started to make our way to the gangway, a commotion broke out behind us. A man, who was denied entry onto the Titanic due to the US Immigration Laws for diseases for Trachoma, tried to argue ferociously with the health inspector, causing the crew to restrain the man and escort him away. Elizabeth, being five, was scared at first, but I assured her the commotion was for our safety and those aboard the Titanic.

We made our way up the gangway to the hatch door after the commotion and handed the steward our boarding passes and health inspection cards. We then made our way to D Deck in the lower mid of the Titanic and located our two-berth cabin, our home for the next six days. The room was small with engine noise and vibrations; but manageable. We started to orientate ourselves and unpack what little belongings we had. Elizabeth tried to claim the top bunk, to which I told her no. I feared that Elizabeth would roll off the bunk one night and get hurt. She thankfully understood.

I told Elizabeth to worry about unpacking later as I took her up to the Forward Well Deck to watch the ship cast off. As we got to the top of the staircase, we heard several loud whistles then the funnels made a deep blowing sound. We felt a slight lurch forward and knew our adventure had begun.

As Elizabeth and I made our way to the rail guards, we saw a young lady standing on one of the rails waving a white handkerchief to what looked like her parents below. Her foot slipped, and she started to fall over the rail. Thankfully, her husband was quick to grab ahold of her and pull her back onto the deck. They nervously laughed as he embraced her, and she continued to wave. I told Elizabeth it would be best if we just kept our feet on the deck as we gave a laugh and a few last farewell waves to the crowd down below and to England herself. The Orchestra aboard the Titanic began to play as we started to set sail. People all around us began dancing, full of joy and laughter. Reporters, photographers, and videographers climbed what docking crates or barrels they could to get in one last clear photo, journal entry, or video reel of this historic departure as the Titanic sailed out of port and headed towards France. The first port of call, out of three.

By the following day, April 11th, 1912, we had already made two out of our three port of call dockings for this voyage. Our first dock was in France that night of April 10th, Cherbourg Port, to drop off and pick up supplies and passengers. Delayed by an hour for anchoring, a miss calculation on the size and force of the propellers caused the wake to start pulling the USMS New York into the Titanic after its six mooring ropes snapped. Thankfully with the quick wit of the captain, he shut off the engines, and both ships escaped a harbor collision and made it out to the English Channel without any damage, boosting our confidence in the captain.

Our second port of call was Queenstown, Ireland. Very few disembarked the Titanic compared to the many who came aboard to immigrate to America and Canada. Among these new passengers were a fellow and his son named Patrick and Michael. Who stayed in a two-berth cabin next to ours.

Patrick was a hefty man with short red hair and a short dull red beard mixed with grey. His voice was deep and boomed amongst the metal walls of the ship. I could hear him and his son in the cabin next to us complain briefly about the engine noise and vibrations. Thankfully, the light engine vibrations helped put my daughter to sleep the previous night, and he was sure to notice the same for his son on this night.

Shortly after the Titanic left Queenstown for our final port of call, New York, Elizabeth and I decided to explore the Titanic, or what we could of it. We discovered that even as third-class passengers, or “Steerage” as they would call us, the Titanic offered many amenities compared to other ships. A room designated for men only was called The Smoking Room, and a room called the General Room equipped with a piano for all sexes to mingle in, under accompanying chaperons for the women. There was even a dining saloon to eat in with provided meals. Access to second and first-class areas and accommodations were not allowed as they had bared the stairways with floor-to-ceiling gates.

Our favorite room was a wide-open room they called the Open Space on the bow under the Forward Well Deck. The first night after leaving Queenstown, a large group of the passengers took up the dance floor in the Open Space and played the musical instruments they brought on board. Bagpipes, guitars, flutes, accordions, bodhrans, and spoons play well into the night with joyful passion. Filling the room with music, laughter, singing, and dancing, it quickly became the Irish pub of the ship.

As Elizabeth and I walked down the staircase to the Open Space, we saw Patrick and his son across the dance floor at a table. Patrick was in an upbeat mood, laughing, clapping, stomping his feet, and gulping down ale while his son danced with others to the music played by the fellow passengers.

“Your son is quite the dancer.” I slightly had to yell at Patrick over the music as we walked over to his table.

“Thank you!” Patrick yelled back with a smile and laugh.

“My name is Thomas. We are in the two-berth cabin next to you, and this is my daughter, Elizabeth,” I said as I reached out my hand to shake his.

Patrick reached out with a firm grip and shook my hand as he said, “Patrick, and this is my son, Michael.”

As Patrick was pointing to Michael introducing him, Michael had stopped dancing and walked up to my daughter and asked if she wanted to dance. Elizabeth told Michael she didn’t know how to dance as he did, but Michael was willing to teach her as he grabbed her hand and led her out to the dance floor.

“The young lad loves to teach the Céilí dance,” Patrick said with a laugh.

“She's learning something new. It’s good for her,” I said as I watched Michael teach Elizabeth the dance.

I grabbed a few pints and joined Patrick back at his table. We spent the evening swapping life stories and getting to know one another. Elizabeth and Michael made new friends as they Céilí danced with others laughing and enjoying their time.

Patrick explained to me how his wife and several older children, including their 18-year-old son, had already sailed to New York City months prior on the RMS Olympic, the sister ship to the Titanic. He explained how he had stayed behind with Michael, who, at the time, was too sick for such a journey and that he needed to finish getting the farm and livestock sold off. Patrick went into detail about how it was his and his wife's dream of heading out West in America to start a small family-run Irish potato farm. A farm he hoped his kids could grow on and one day farm themselves with their wives and children and have a chance for better opportunities and freedom.

Patrick then asked about my story and what made me buy my daughter and myself a one-way ticket across the Atlantic Ocean. I explained to Patrick that a year prior, Elizabeth’s mother fell ill with a fever that took her life days later, that England had become a memory of loss and misfortunate for us. I wanted better for Elizabeth and decided to move to New York City, hoping to give her a better life with better opportunities, just as Patrick wanted for his kids.

As I told Patrick my story, he looked at me with a small smile of grief. He took out a flask and said, “Lad, it sounds like you need a sip of the ol’ Irish soup.”

I lightly chuckled and asked, “And what is ol’ Irish soup, my new friend?”

“WHISKEY, AH HAAA!!” Patrick shouted with a roaring laugh as I took the flask from his hands.

Whiskey and gin were too familiar to me in dealing with the grief of Elizabeth's mother's passing. I stared at the flask, contemplating a sip, before taking a swig of the whiskey and handing the flask back. We sat back in our chairs for the remainder of the evening, drinking our ales and enjoying the lively, upbeat music while the kids danced.

The following day, April 12th, 1912, was a calm day. Elizabeth wanted to spend time on the Forward Well Deck, staring out into the ocean and feeling the breeze that blew through her long brown hair. Patrick and Michael eventually came up to the Forward Well Deck, and immediately Michael and Elizabeth took off to play with other children running around the deck. A woman, a mother of two children who Patrick and I had gotten to know that afternoon, volunteered to watch Elizabeth and Michael so Patrick and I could venture down to the Smoking Room.

After a couple of glasses of whiskey and a cigarette later, we returned up to the Forward Well Deck to retrieve Elizabeth and Michael for dinner. We ate in the Dining Saloon and returned to our cabins to rest. Later that evening, we all ventured back to the Open Space. The most prominent thing to do with no entertainment or games provided to the third-class passengers was to pass the time by drinking, dancing, and being merry, and what better place to do so on board than the Open Space with live music.

With very little to do the following days, April 13th and 14th were much like the rest. That evening, on April 14th, 1912, I tucked Elizabeth into bed. I ran my finger down the bridge of Elizabeth’s nose and gave her a slight bop at the tip. We gave each other a smile and a giggle before I pulled her blanket up to finish tucking her in. I leaned in and kissed her forehead.

“One more full day, kiddo, and we should be in New York City the following day.”

“Father, is it true that there is a great statue that welcomes all to New York City?” Elizabeth asked with a slight yawn.

I brushed her hair with my hand, smiling, “Yes, sweetheart. Now get some sleep.”

I then proceeded to run my hand gently across her eyes to close them.

“I love you, father,” Elizabeth said as she drifted off to sleep.

“I love you, Elizabeth,” I said as I quietly exited the cabin and closed the door.

Just outside Patrick’s and my cabin was a small corridor connecting passageways in the ship with stairs that lead up to C Deck. In that small corridor was a bench that I went to sit on. I felt Patrick’s hand tap my thigh as he sat down next to me. I looked down to see a bottle of whiskey.

“I didn’t want to fill the flask up. Figured, the whiskey, it’s already in a bottle, and low as it is. Want a sip?” Patrick said as his head was half-turned in my direction.

I took the bottle from Patrick and pulled the cork out. I took a swig of the whiskey and handed the bottle back to him.

Patrick set the whiskey bottle on the bench as he reached into the right breast pocket of his shirt and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He unfolded the paper to reveal it was a family picture he carried on him.

“Aye, lad, this is my wife and the kids. That one there,” Patrick pointed to a man in the photo almost as tall as him.

“That’s my oldest son, James. He promised me he’d look after his mum and sisters. Aye, I sure am proud of all of them. I know this hasn’t been easy for any of them. Especially Michael. He loves and misses his mum. As do I.”

Patrick held the photo in his hand, staring intently at it, longing to see his family. “Ah! A few days soon, she’ll be back in my arms.” Patrick said with great joy and brushing off his loneliness. He folded the photo back up and stuck it back into his breast pocket before picking the whiskey up again to take another swig.

As we sat there in the silence of our voices, swigging the last of that whiskey bottle, I pulled out my pocket watch to see the time. The time was 10 P.M.

“Well, Patrick, my clocks telling me it’s just past 10 P.M, mate. I should be off to bed. Elizabeth will be up early in the morning, I’m sure. Plenty of kids to play with,” I said as I lightly slapped my knees while I stood up from the bench in exhaustion.

“Goodnight, Lad, get some rest. We’ll see you in the wee hours of the morning.”

When I entered my cabin, Elizabeth was snoring ever so lightly. I felt my way to my top bunk in the dark, kicked off my shoes, and quietly crawled up onto the bed carefully, to not wake Elizabeth. My eyes started to feel heavy as the engine lightly vibrated the cabin. I rested my right arm across my forehead with my left knee up in the air and drifted off to sleep.

EVERYONE UP! Came a loud yell as the door to the cabin was forcefully opened. LIFE VESTS ON!

I sat up quickly, startled and very confused. Elizabeth asked me groggily, “Daddy, what’s happening?”

“I'm not sure, sweetheart,” I said as I jumped down from my bunk to be greeted by cold water at my feet as it splashed up my legs and all over the bunks' bedding.

I bent down to pick up the life vests thrown into our cabin as I swooped up Elizabeth and set her on my top bunk away from the rushing water on the cabin's floor.

I listened to echoes of screams ringing from the passageway as Patrick and Michael entered my cabin wearing their life vest.

“What the hell is happening?" I blurted out

“Don’t know, lad, but a bloody skinny Englishmen bust my door wide open, flicked on the lights, and threw two life vests at us.”

With all the commotion echoing from the passageway and the rising water in the cabin, I put mine and Elizabeth’s jackets on, followed by the life vests. I picked Elizabeth up and dredged through the water down the passageway to the corridor, with Patrick and Michael closely following behind us. People everywhere scrambled in hysteria to gather what little belongings they had as we climbed up the stairwell to C Deck to make our way to the Grand Staircase.

Once there, passengers of all classes frantically ran around, confused about where to go. I saw a barred gate next to the elevators behind the Grand Staircase. The passageway gated off was overrun by trapped passengers, petrified, begging for help. A Steward backing away motioned he was sorry before running up the stairs to the Boat Deck. Just as he reached the top, a massive wave came crashing through the entrance sending him tumbling back down. Watching the water cascade down the stairs, a rush of freezing water overtook the trapped third-class passengers from behind, pinning them to the gate, silencing their pleas for help.

"I'm not dying down here with these up-tight snobs!" Patrick yelled as he grabbed ahold of the railing. "Follow me, lad! We've got a lifeboat to catch!"

Gripping the handrail, we fought through the flowing water making our way up the stairs dodging the unfortunates that were swept off their feet and back down to the rising waters below.

We emerged from the staircase onto the Boat Deck to find in horror that the bow of the Titanic was submerged deep into the dark, freezing Atlantic Ocean. Sheer panic rang across the Boats Deck as people from all classes ran frantically, looking for safety. The moonless night was lit continuously by multitudes of distress flares fired high in the sky while the orchestra played music in hopes of easing the panicking passengers.

“Look, lad! Do you see that off into the distance port side! It looks like another ship. We’ll be saved in no time, HA HAAA!” Patrick yelled with a roar.

“Try not to get your hopes up. They may not even know we are sinking. They don’t seem to be heading this way.”

“They do now me, Boyo! Those flares should grab their attention,” Patrick said with a smile as he looked up into the sky, watching the many flares fall back down into the water.

“Focus on getting off this stricken ship and onto a lifeboat,” I said, looking frantically around, deciding where to go.

“Portside!” I yelled with urgency as we splashed through the water, running to the promenade deck. Passengers surrounded the lifeboats, arguing and fighting one another. Stewards were frantically lowering the lifeboats into the ocean, half full, as officers shouted, women with children first! Men were held at gunpoint to force them from advancing on the lifeboats.

Chaos unfolded as more passengers ran past us out of the waters overtaking the bow, pushing and shoving their way through the crowds. The staircase we just came from was now submerging further underwater, engulfing those still trapped inside.

The desperate pleas for help, screams of fear, and cries of separation from loved ones as the lifeboats left the ship rang in the night air. Wet and freezing, we pushed forward, making our way to the mid-ship. Somehow amid all the chaos, panic, and fear, the orchestra continued to play without missing a beat. Men trembled in fear as the lifeboats continued to fill up with women and children only as they remained forced back by the officers. Hundreds of miles from shore, a nearby ship whose lights have yet to advance closer for rescue and only 20 lifeboats for thousands aboard made all hope lost.

We clutched our children in our arms, dredging in the water that quickly followed behind us. Passengers were hanging from ropes off the side of the Titanic, chasing after already descended lifeboats in the ocean. Kids separated from their mothers and fathers stood around crying as men ran past them, ignoring them, fearing for their own lives. Shots rang out as officers shot at those going against their orders. Luggage, furniture, and whatever someone could find for floatation got thrown off the side in hopes of a make-shift raft as the men who threw them went in after.

Elizabeth and Michael were curled up on our shoulders as we held onto them tightly as they deeply cried. I desperately tried hard to lie to Elizabeth while I held back tears of fear and told her that it would all be okay, that we would survive this. From all the stairwells leading up to the upper decks, men and women in droves shoved their way through as water came spilling out after them. Men, women, and children climbed to higher parts of the aft well deck to stay out of the freezing water as some lost grip, falling into the waters below as the stern of the Titanic started to rise out of the ocean.

I looked at Patrick as I lightly shook my head in horror. “The stern, it could be our only chance,” I yelled. Patrick nodded in agreeance.

Suddenly, a sharp whipping noise above us sliced through the air as cables began snapping. We looked up to see the anchoring cables for the funnels snapping loose, wavered momentarily before crashing down.

One of the funnels ahead of us fell into the water, smashing those helplessly floating below it, dragging them to the depths below. We continued up the now inclined ship to the stern, gripping the rails when a massive jolt shook the entire hull. I managed to grab ahold of a pipe with Elizabeth along the walls as Patrick and Michael tumbled backward, stopping just short of the water. Patrick managed to pick Michael and himself up as he held onto the railing to climb back up our way.

Patrick and Michael slowly climbed up towards us, leaving me to feel helpless, unable to help them with the steep angle of the sinking ship. I reached out as Patrick was in arms reach to pull him and Michael to us. Just as our hands were about to grasp each other, another massive jolt disoriented me. I regained myself as Patrick was readjusting himself along the railing. I went to reach my hand back out when the boards for the deck came splintering up. I looked down at Patrick holding onto the rail, tired and defeated. Michael was hanging onto his back crying and reaching out for us. Patrick knelt against the railing and swung Michael off his shoulders, and held onto him tightly with one arm.

I looked down at Patrick as we locked eyes. I could see the sadness in his face as he gave me one last smile before tucking his head into Michael. The twisted ripping sound of iron and steel rippled loudly through the air as the hull split from the stern. I watched in horror as Patrick and Michael were overtaken by the freezing ocean water, as the Titanic’s bow and mid plunged beneath the water. I cried out for them as the sterns aft well deck dropped back into the water, throwing us backward.

With tears in my eyes, we scrambled up to the poop deck while we had the chance. The sunken hull still attached at the bottom of the stern began swapping the stern. We found a small box attached to the deck used as storage next to the railing to huddle behind. I looked out into the ocean to see lifeboats with passengers just sitting, watching, and listening in horror to our pleas for help as those of us left on the stern fought to remain alive in our last minutes of survival. As I huddled against the box, I held onto Elizabeth tightly as the stern started to point straight up into the air.

Men, women, and what children remained on the stern slid down the deck, bouncing off objects all around us and into the deep rushing waters below. I told Elizabeth how much I loved her, how much she meant to me, and how proud I was to be her father. I kissed her on her forehead as I held onto her tightly, feeling the Titanic descend downwards into the ocean.

Screams of fear grew ever more loudly. Death was rapidly becoming eminent to everyone still left on the stern. I told Elizabeth to hold on to me tightly as I stood on the wall for the box we huddled behind. I grabbed ahold of the rail guard and swung us around it. I made sure her life vest was on tight, praying it would help keep her safe in the water before I gave a massive leap off the rail and into the ocean below.

I swam backward away from the sinking stern, not wanting to be swamped by its current, which I managed to swim away from as I felt it trying to pull us down. I watched the remaining portion of the stern disappear in horror, floating with Elizabeth. The RMS Titanic, the unsinkable, had sunk.

We were now amongst a field of people floating helplessly in the freezing waters, surrounded by mass screams of hysteria for help. Men with whistles blew them desperately, hoping the lifeboats would come to save them. People swam in circles in a panic, looking for something to grab ahold of to stay afloat. Here and there, someone would pop up to the surface from the stern, gasping for air.

I floated on my back as best I could, with Elizabeth laying on top of me, hoping to keep her out of the water and warm. I kept trying to kiss her head, telling her, “I love you.” Over and over, while begging her not to close her eyes as she lay on me, shivering.

One by one, the screams amongst the people floating grew quiet, and the whistles ran out of air to make them squeal. I choked up as I tightly gripped Elizabeth and gave her small shivering shakes repeating quietly. “D-don’t close your eyes. Don’t go to sleep. S-stay with me, Elizabeth. I love you, s-sweetheart. Don’t s-sleep, stay with me, E-Elizabeth, I. I Love you.”

I stared up into the clear starry sky, shivering ferociously, floating in the Atlantic Ocean, whose waters were now calm again and the air now silent. The Northern Lights glowed a bright green high above, and every time a star would twinkle, I would tell Elizabeth that it was a soul entering heaven. I had one last tear stream down my cheek before it froze to my face. I gripped Elizabeth in a tight hug which I feared was my last, as I could tell hypothermia was setting in. I started to say goodbye as she told me she loved me when I felt hands reaching down and pulling us up onto Lifeboat number 4. They wrapped blankets around us and ran their hands all over us as fast as they could to create friction for heat.

As they rowed the boat slowly amongst the graveyard of floating bodies, I saw a piece of paper floating in the water. I reached out to grab it to find that it was the photograph from Patrick's breast pocket. I wanted to burst into tears and cry, but I couldn’t.

After the Titanic sunk, the RMS Carpathia finally came to our aid and recused the remaining survivors. Only 706 people survived the Titanic that fateful night out of the 2,240 onboard. I looked for Patrick's family in New York days later, but I could never find them.

Forty years have passed since that fateful night. I'm an old man now, and Elizabeth has a family and kids of her own. I eventually moved out West, bought some land, and started a potato farm in memory of Patrick. I spend most nights in unbearable grief that I couldn’t save Patrick and Michael as I sit on my front porch with whiskey. I have recurring nightmares as I see Michael’s tears and pleas reaching out to Elizabeth and me for help, as Patrick wrapped him in his arms, giving him one last hug of love and sorrow before being consumed by the ocean. We survived by a miracle floating in those fridge waters that night. And every year, on this day, April 15th, the anniversary of that fateful sinking, I have a glass of whiskey waiting for Patrick and Michael at my kitchen table. My peace offering in remorse for living.

As I sit back in my chair, sipping whiskey, the haunting sounds of Songe d’Automne, the last song played as the Titanic sank, begin to play on my record player. I begin to feel the panic, the hopelessness, and the fear of death once more. The cold air chills me as the screams of terror echo in my ears. Rising from my table, I walk over to my fireplace. With a glass of whiskey in my hand, I relive the moment once more as I watch Patrick and Michael disappear into the dark ocean water, taken away from this world, as I glance at their family photo sitting on the mantel.