Lasting Legacy

His name is John, and he is a violinist. He realizes it is April 15, 1912 and only two days before his twenty-second birthday, yet he knows this date will live on in history and well beyond his own years. It is a bitterly cold night, but he continues to play his instrument, tears streaming silently down his ruddy and reddened cheeks. The once larger band he has been playing with up until now has been reduced to a scarce eight members. Despite the dire and tragic circumstances that surround them this April evening, the eight members have made a concerted choice to play on the Boat Deck Level of the Grand Staircase in an attempt to soothe the frantic passengers onboard the large ship. They secretly hope that it will also allay their own nerves and fears.

In spite of John’s best efforts, his tears fall unabashedly, streaking his youthful face before they drip and stain the dark black wool of his jacket. He is so very young. His round, tear-stained face is nearly akin to that of a cherub’s, filled with an innocence born only of youth awaiting its transformation into the coarser and wiser features that embody a man’s visage. Yet, all too sadly, John will never have the chance to outgrow his boyish charm and innocence. He tries in vain to focus on the music, but finds it eerily ironic. Chopin’s haunting and beautiful Nocturne Op 48 No. 1 in C Minor floats into the chilly air, drifting out across the vastness of the waters. He wonders how there can be such beauty in this music amidst the impending tragedy that looms ahead.

The massive ship suddenly groans loudly again as it adjusts and continues its ever encroaching tilt into the formidable darkness of the North Atlantic waters. It is an undeniable, deadly fate that awaits them, and John knows that the ocean is soon to be his grave as the ship will eventually immerse itself completely in the frigid waters. He shivers and lowers his head in defeat. Remorse invades to fill his being as he knows he shall never again see his sweet mum’s face or feel her strong arms wrap warmly about him. He will never lay eyes on the green shores of Scotland or hear the bagpipes play their haunting tunes over the mists of the moors again. He imagines his mum’s sobs when she learns of his final moments upon the massive Oceanic Liner, the Titanic. It was not supposed to end like this. He should be on the precipice of a full life, but instead, only certain darkness looms ahead. Horizons had seemed so limitless when first he’d set sail only four days prior, but now those dreams have vanished in a mere flash of time. Distracted by his thoughts, he suddenly realizes his fingers have grown numb. Still, he struggles to continue playing his violin with the greatest of love and care, for he somehow knows this end shall be his living legacy. He fervently wishes his mind could be as numb as his fingers in these final moments.

As he continues to play, John looks up through his wet lashes and glances at his band mates. Roger is even younger than him, being only twenty years of age and hailing from France. Roger’s head is hung in a foreboding sense of abject defeat as he methodically strums his large cello. John wonders at the thoughts that are filling Roger’s head, and then instinctively realizes that they are assuredly much like his own for there can be no other direction possible in this futile moment.

John's attention is suddenly riveted upon Theodore, the pianist, who is twenty-four years of age. Theodore’s eyes are closed as he plays, as if he is attempting to submerge himself in the melody he plays and thus chase away the chaotic events and impending doom that surround him. John, too, wishes he could make tonight’s unforeseen events disappear and return all things to normal. His jaw clenches as stress takes ahold of him. He is suddenly and uncharacteristically envious of the three additional years Theodore has had on the earth beyond his own brief twenty-one. What he wouldn’t give to have just another year on this wonderful earth – or even another night.

All about, people are running and screaming, but John diverts his attention once again to his violin and attempts to concentrate on the music. It won’t make any difference to worry about what the next hour will bring; it has already been foretold and their fates are sealed. As his bow moves effortlessly back and forth across the strings of the violin, he wonders what it would have been like to kiss Colleen – or any girl for that matter. He’d never quite gotten up the nerve to kiss the sweet lass, and now, more than ever, regret fills him with a rawness that resides deep within his being. Looking up and seeing the throngs of panicked passengers on the deck, many of them wailing in dismay, he turns his attention once again to Chopin’s Nocturne, thinking that a livelier piece would have been much more in order.

As if reading John’s mind, the pianist, Theodore, abruptly ends the piece by Chopin. Evidently Theodore, too, has realized that they must play something different. There is a drastic shortage of lifeboats and the passengers are terrified, each one intent on securing a spot in one of the few remaining little boats. John sees Theodore glance at his bandmates, nod, and with an overwhelming sense of determination, he begins a waltz by Johann Strauss. Only moments later, however, full fear and pandemonium ensue as the boat groans and tilts while full disaster looms even closer. All the band realize the end is very near. Immediately, the pianist foregoes the waltz and begins to play a hymn, hoping it will offer a small measure of comfort. John notices tears have filled Theodore's eyes for the pianist is thinking of his wife, Abigail, and his children, knowing he will never them or London again.

Sadness grows, overflows, and immerses the hearts of all the band's members. They know they have only moments left before they will go down with the huge ship to reside far beneath in the chilling, frigid waters. All eight are crying as they play their instruments - crying for themselves as well as all the other souls aboard the massive liner. There are so many lives that will be cut short this ill-fated night - so many that will never see the dawn of tomorrow.

Fear grips John's heart tightly as he hears the familiar hymn, and he is once again reminded of Scotland's far away lush, green shores. He prays fervently for strength and courage to endure what he must, as do all his bandmates. It grows more difficult with each passing second to concentrate on the music as people all about the deck have fallen to their knees with hands outstretched in desperation and supplication; they weep incessantly. There is no lack of fear or despair this night as the wind whips about the deck, steadily chilling each and every person to their bones, a seeming prelude of what is to come. Despite the fact the hymn, "Nearer My God to Thee”, sounds resolutely in the evening air, few take note of it. All still onboard instinctively know that it will not be very long before it is done; the end is now in sight, looming ever closer still.

The eight band members who remain on the windblown promenade silently pray amidst their tears as they continue to play on, the hymn an eerie beacon in the tragic night. Suddenly, the heavy steel of the massive ship releases a huge shudder, shaking all remaining passengers, as it groans and slowly breaks in half. As if in a dream, the eight band players slowly begin to slide along the deck toward the depths of the encroaching dark sea as they tightly hold their instruments in hand, fear filling their beings until they feel nothing more. Their last thoughts are a mixture of regret, loved ones, and memories. With one final lurch, the ship effortlessly submerges itself completely beneath the icy waters while those fortunate few in floating lifeboats silently watch from afar, an overwhelming feeling of sickness and grief enveloping them as they do so. There are no words with which to describe what they see or the depth of emotion that they feel.

After what has seemed like an eternity but has in fact been only a brief lapse of time, it is finally done - the massive ship has disappeared from sight as though it were only the figment of an overactive imagination. Though the eight musicians hoped to comfort others by continuing to play their music before the Titanic sunk, they have now perished along with so many others. They will forever remain an immortal fixture and memory of the Titanic. So many are gone in a flash of time and will find an eternal resting place within the ocean’s depths, nearly as though they have never existed, but nothing could be further from the truth. The Titanic and its many victims are a tragic event the world will never forget. As are the eight brave musicians who continued to play despite what they knew would be their untimely end. They live ever on in the history of men and books. Their courage and determination forged an everlasting legacy that will be remembered for long years beyond that tragic night in April of 1912.

“Many brave things were done that night, but none were more brave than those done by men playing minute after minute as the ship settled quietly lower and lower in the sea.” Lawrence Beesley, Titanic survivor