A Father’s Shadow and Its Deep Dark Depths

April 10, 1912

It is today that my hand is forced in taking a calculated risk. Father does not understand my neurosis, in fact, he abhors it at best. He claims that mother has coddled me, as I always was a sickly child. He believes that if I had spent more time outdoors in those earlier years that it would have served my health far better. He is as firm and fervent on that today as he was then; hence, his insistence on this venture. Along with his alleged claims of the fresh sea air doing my lungs some good, he also insists that as a young businessman I must learn the value of risk and reward. The potential for building connections and networking on this cruise is of utmost importance. The who’s who of businessmen will be on this ship’s historical maiden voyage. No sane or respectable man should refuse such an opportunity. However, this necessitates I do something I’ve feared for a long time; board a ship. I have done the best I can to mitigate various scenarios and put my mind at ease; despite this, my mind knows no such feeling.

I check the books thrice prior to leaving at the end of my shift for the day. At times, admittedly I check them thrice more. I am the first to arrive and the last to leave; ensuring that all lamps are in proper position and put out respectively. I am paranoid of fires as well as candlewax leaks on my feathered ink pens. I am a humble accountant, and would prefer to stay as such with a fairly reliable income. Father is the adventurous one, and I do not know why he insists that I become heir to the family business. It is true that I am the eldest, but surely my brothers are much more qualified. I have no desire for the responsibility or instability of being an entrepreneur. I want nothing more than an unassuming, peaceful life.

I’ve considered the design and expert reasoning for the RMS Titanic’s unsinkable status, but alas I have my reservations. I’ve considered potential outcomes and scenarios for the most tragic of cases. Have they? Despite my concerns, the percentage is low; at least, that’s what I keep reminding myself. It is lower than any other ship known at present, but still fear besets me. Father reassures me in the letter that accompanied my ticket that everything will be alright. He further stated that this is the safest international business venture he could have sent me on. Though politely worded, I still feel as though I have no other choice in the matter. Fleeing and hiding are just as risky if not more so than doing what I’ve been told to do. Upon Father’s return there would be consequences and potential job loss. Who would employee me elsewhere? A man has got to make a living. Therefore, I am about to embark on my greatest and most frightening journey in the hopes that it won’t be so terrifying after all.

April 11, 1912

Oh, the shame of it. My father would be most disappointed. I’m embarrassed enough that I’ll not send him word of what happened. Upon seeing this enormous steamship in person, I was overwhelmed and plum fainted in front of my peers and new associates. Thankfully, a medic administered tranquilizers and after a good night’s rest I’m feeling a bit better. I was also fortunate that the incident occurred prior to the French merchants boarding. So far, the only connection I’ve made has been a chaplain that was gracious enough to check in on me every few hours. Hopefully the incident is passed off as anemia should anyone choose to discuss it. I hope to attend at least a few intellectual meetings today once I am feeling fit. My first priority will be to check where the lifeboats are in case of an emergency. I lost the opportunity to properly inform myself upon my arrival. I’ll not want to venture too far from their location; though, I’m uncertain as to how far away my lodgings are from them. I may be at a disadvantage already. I doubt Father thought that far ahead when selecting my ticket.

Anyway, the ship will reach Ireland today and board even more passengers which means there is an opportunity for gatherings and business meetings once they settle in. It would have been better to attend such an event last night when my father’s priority business relations would have been in attendance. I was specifically asked to make connections with or at least listen in for any pertinent information from British, French, and American business tycoons. He must have found my chance of speaking to them unlikely, but even so, he wanted me to attend; If for no other reason than, “to get the air of experience under my wings.”

So far, I have experienced nothing aside from anxiety.

April 12, 1912

How long does it take to get one’s sea legs? I hear the waters are supposed to be calm today, yet my stomach is most unsettled. Maybe the tranquilizers from the days prior still have me off balance. Then again, maybe the problem is that I need more of them. I am unsure. On the other hand, maybe it is the cigars from the smoking room the business meeting was held in last night that have me feeling queasy. I’ve always despised their aroma. I wish I had made progress making connections, but I was feeling too taxed by the noxious fumes to think of much. I did hear that there are some prominent figures aboard this ship; including quite a few American millionaires, a particularly wealthy Swedish businessman, and, of course, British aristocracy. The mere notion of accounting for all of that money makes me nervous; despite being an accountant, I can scarcely fathom it. Still, I doubt I’ll have opportunity to speak with any of the first-class passengers directly. Even if I did, what would I say?

In other news, I did at least find the emergency life rafts. There aren’t enough of them for the amount of people boarded, but no one here seems concerned. I’ve also visited the library. It is quite nice, but I could have read books at home. The chaplain is still stopping by my cabin every so often, but otherwise I feel like I just exist while on board this ship. I attempt to meander around for a bit, but I neither smoke nor drink. Maybe I should start. Also, the sea breeze on deck is still making my stomach churn. I hope it gets better tomorrow. I’ve decided to turn in early for the night.

April 13, 1912

Today will be a better day. At least, that’s what I tell myself. I’m feeling less queasy after some ginger and lemon tea this morning. The chaplain brought it on account of my health. He said a prayer and a blessing over me, and claims he is worried about a kid my age eating and drinking as little as I do. I’m a bit older than a kid, but I wasn’t going to protest after all of that. I decided to eat a little more than just plain wafer crackers today. I’m off to the canteen and hoping to indulge in a biscuit or pastry this morning. Maybe if I move around on deck, I’ll be hungry enough for soup later in the afternoon or evening.

It is a clear day and the sailing is smoother. I make a few laps around the deck and take in the salty sea air. Maybe Father is right, and it will do my lungs some good. I take note of all the things I see, including the ship’s construction. I suppose it seems sturdy enough. The rivets are plentiful. I’ve gone over the ship’s plans a few times, and everything seems the same in person (just a little grander). That should be a relief.

It is, but I still fixate on the quantity of lifeboats. Sure, I never stray too far from them, but the chaplain does have a point. I am a weaker individual and in fairer condition than many of the others on board here. There is no guarantee I would make my escape on them should something happen. Besides, won’t more honorable men insist that the women and children be rescued first? There surely aren’t enough for all. More than likely, the elite will receive priority treatment anyway. Why do I worry so much when it comes to naught? Isn’t it a fruitless endeavor? No wonder my father is frustrated with me and wants me to gain experience.

Anyway, I’ve decided to talk with others tonight. I know my father has his preferences on who to connect with, but perhaps I’ll just attempt to be social. I find that the wait staff here has been friendly, and I did work up enough of an appetite for soup. Perhaps I’ll have a little bread with it since I know several businessmen who frequent the bar. Hopefully the bread will soak up whatever spirit I attempt to consume tonight since I have no idea how it will affect me. I’m getting a little more used to the smell of sea water and pungent odor of cigars, though I still find both unpleasant. However, some of the wines and spirits I’ve been around at the bar don’t seem so distasteful, and I’m considering ordering a brandy. It’s been something I’ve secretly always wondered about, but never gathered the gumption to try.

April 14, 1912

I tried brandy for the first time last night. I suppose people don’t drink it for its flavor as much as they do its effect. I was sitting between two Irish businessmen, so I decided it was best to finish my drink. I must have made some uncomfortable faces as the one laughed at me. I started to feel a little funny myself. After a few minutes, it was like I was socially an entirely different person. The man on my left and I began discussing various business enterprises, brokers, acquisitions, mergers, and the current market value of goods and services. I look forward to working with him in the future should I get the chance. I told him I hoped we would have another good conversation ending in an exchange of information today. In the end, he ordered the entire bar a round of whisky and I happily indulged. It was a unique experience, and though my head hurts a bit today and I’m feeling slightly nauseous again, the giddy feeling I have overrides it a bit.

This part of the Atlantic is cold. I plan to repeat my limited success from yesterday today. Maybe I’ll even have some sausage and eggs for breakfast this morning with my biscuit, and I think I’ll make my tea a bit stronger today. I’ll walk around deck shortly after.

I overheard some Morse code coming from the radio operator’s quarters. I’ve always had good hearing, and am vaguely familiar with the use of code. I can’t make it out completely, but hearing the commotion unsettles me a bit, and I remember my usual state of paranoia. I look at the lifeboats again. Part of me wants to escape, but I don’t have enough information to go on nor do I want to just drift off right now with nowhere else to go. I remind myself that the watertight compartments are believed to make the ship “unsinkable.” The message was probably nothing. It is better to wait. Besides, I’ll have more opportunities for connections once we arrive at New York. From there, I’m sure my father has a clear plan for me. Like Father says, I’ve got to gain real world experience. I take a deep breath and decide to indulge myself a little more today. I’ll be getting another whisky again tonight.

I meet up with my newfound comrade, and he introduces me to a few of his friends. We have lunch together and discuss current politics. I spot the chaplain maneuvering about near the canteen. He remarks that he is pleasantly surprised I’m not simply staying in my room. I greet his comment with a polite smile before returning to the library and my room to freshen up before tonight’s events. My new comrades and I take turns making bets on various card games that are played. We have a couple of whiskies at the bar and play a round of chess. We have contact information in our pockets and new sterling in our wallets, so we both consider this an evening well spent. We retire for the night shortly before 11.

I had just barely fallen asleep when I was awakened in a shocked stupor. I had gotten lazy. I had forgotten my nature, if only for a brief while. I would suffer accordingly. The unsinkable ship was not impenetrable. As I heard that knock from the steward on my chamber’s door, I knew he was not rousing me from my slumber for a positive reason. My fate was sealed, and I was summoned to deal with it accordingly.

April 15, 1912

Just after midnight I arrive on deck. We are told that the ship will only stay afloat for a couple of hours. Women and children are sent in the lifeboats first. I watch as many are not even filled before being set adrift. Everyone is in a similar stupor. The quiet is eerie. I don’t stir, I don’t protest. Shockingly, I’m no longer afraid. The same chaplain that checked up on me throughout the entire voyage administers our last rites and a prayer.

It’s cold. The temperature is nothing more than a physical transposing of a familiar inner feeling; dread. For the sake of business, my father unknowingly sacrificed his own son. Perhaps now, one of my brothers will have opportunity for his inheritance as should have been his right in the first place. It is a blessing that they were not the ones that were sent, but I suspect my father will send no more. As I plunge deeper into the ocean’s depths, I know that now my father will finally understand my neurosis and grieve over my peril just as I experienced a small portion of his life’s experience briefly. Regret will swim ever fervently in his mind, and there will be nothing I can do to stop it. Although my father viewed me as weak, he always did love me. That much is true, and that love cannot escape his heart. While I had opportunity to make new connections and new experiences; in my last memories, I will think of my mother, brothers, and my father. I will let you down no more, and in that thought I cried one final tear; a tear of freedom and love.