Password?

Many people ask me about the source of my immense wealth. 

It all began in Southampton on 10th April 1912. At the dock of the mighty Titanic. 

I was a simple paperboy and had been selling newspapers and pamphlets to travellers and crew members alike since I had turned 15. 

My mama sold fish at the nearby market. Every early morning we walked together to the docks where she would collect fish from the fishermen while I set up my newspaper stand. 

In the evenings, she would come back to pay the fishermen who had sold her the fish on credit for the day. She would help me pack up my wares and we would walk back home. There we would eat and rest ready for the new day. 

That was our life. 

It was just the two of us. I never knew who my father was. And I never bothered to ask. It didn't matter. Mama was enough. We were enough. 

We repeated our schedule on the day of the Titanic's maiden voyage.

It was a bit difficult on this day as the docks were filled with thousands and thousands of people. The passengers travelling on the liner, their friends and family bidding them off, curious and excited onlookers who wanted to be there to witness this momentous occasion, the press…

Business was really good on that day though. The papers were selling out fast even though I had gotten more stock in anticipation. Any headline about the magnificent Titanic had been selling like hot cake for the past few weeks. 

I was going about my business on this day when a well-dressed gentleman approached me. I figured he wanted to buy a paper so I raised one for him. 

"No young man. Keep it! I have been passing around here for days and I have been seeing you and watching you and I think you are trustworthy. So here I have a task for you." he said to me. 

I was taken aback but I listened. 

"I have here an item of immense value that I need you to hold for me. I was to meet my son here at the docks today and give it to him but it seems the drunken fool couldn't make it. I had anticipated this and that's why I had been watching you for the past few days. I am going to America on this maiden voyage and will be back in 3 months."  

I couldn't follow. It wasn't odd for people to leave their items with me while they went about their business around the docks. They usually came back for them and tipped me for my services. But this request was strange. 

" Here's the thing young man. I will leave it with you. When on board the ship, I will telegraph my son and tell him to find a young man selling newspapers at the dock on this spot. Upon arrival in New York, I will write him a letter to remind him. The password is one we use regularly. He shall give it to you to prove his identity. Do you follow?" The stranger asked me. 

"Yes… yes…" I answered. 

I was scared. This was happening too fast. I didn't have time to think. It seems I had agreed to a deal I could not fully wrap my head around. 

The man then reached into his pocket, pulled out a brown leather pouch and placed it in my hand. 

" Just hold on to it for my son. He needs it to figure himself out. Creditors all over out for his head. And he shall come to notify you probably by sunset tomorrow when the alcohol leaves his body. When I come back from my travels, I shall reward you for your service. 

" What your name sir, and what is his name?" I asked him my eyes popping in curiosity. 

" Call me Norse. And oh the password is…." He leaned to my ear and whispered it slowly. He repeated it three times and asked me to repeat it to him three times. 

He nodded when I whispered it into his ears. 

I had got it. 

Mr Norse then went to board the ship. Based on the way he was dressed, I imagined he was travelling first class. I didn't even wish him a safe voyage. I was still processing the encounter. 

I put the pouch in the inner pocket of my coat and continued with my business. 

In the evening my mama came for me and we went home as usual. 

I didn't mention my encounter with the man to her. She had warned me several times to be cautious about talking to strangers at the docks or accepting to hold on to items for them.

"They could be smuggled or stolen goods you know…" She attempted to warn and scare me. 

She told me crazy and far fetched stories about boys being kidnapped to be slaves for sailors at sea. Some according to her were kidnapped to be sacrificed to the sea monsters to secure a good fishing trip for the fishermen. 

So as not to scare her, I kept the information about the man and his pouch to myself. After all, I'd only have it for one day. 

The next morning I carried the pouch in my pocket ready for the son I had been told about to collect it. I had also crammed the password by repeating it to myself several times so as not to forget it. 

The day passed and no one came. I imagined the so-called son was still drunk. 

The same happened on days two, three and four. 

At this point, I figured the son was not coming for the item and decided to keep it until Mr Norse would come back for it. 

On 15th April 1912 however, the newspapers had grim headlines. The mighty Titanic had sunk at sea. Only less than 800 passengers had been rescued! 

I was shaken! I was worried for Mr Norse. I hoped and prayed that he was among the survivors. 

For the next few days, I kept reading the papers to see whether I could see the name Norse among the survivors. I couldn't find it. It wasn't even on the list of those that had lost their lives. Not even on the list of passengers! 

Had Mr Norse even been his real name!? 

The son never came for the item either. At least for the first six months. 

Seven months had almost passed as I kept on holding to the pouch. I had opened it out of curiosity after hanging on to it for so long. 

Inside the pouch were 6 pieces of rough metal about the size of blueberries cut in half. I suspected them to be gold. The colour resembled the ornaments won by the wealthy women that I often saw boarding the ships. 

I never uttered a word to my mother still. 

One day in the seventh month, a heavy-looking slurring man approached my stand. 

"I know you have it, boy! Give it to me!" He said. 

"Password?" I shot at him completely taken aback by his total lack of courtesy. The alcohol was also the giveaway I thought. 

"What password?" He answered back seemingly annoyed. 

I ignored him and went on my business. 

"I'll come and steal it from you boy! I know where you live!" He tried to scare me. 

I wasn't worried. 

After months of keeping it in a small wall space under the fireplace, and after seeing that no one was coming for it, I had visited my grandfather and buried the pouch under the oak tree in the fields near his cottage. This stranger would never find it if he came looking at the house I shared with my mother. 

The slurring man kept coming for days. But he never seemed to have the password so I never gave the pouch to him. 

Over the next few months, different men usually came to threaten me. 

"We shall throw you deep into the seas boy if you don't give us the item." They would threaten. 

I wouldn't budge but I was beginning to get really frightened as it was a different man all the time. 

My mama had also heard whispers of the strange fellows that frequently visited my stand issuing threats. She had confronted me about it and I had to reveal the secret. 

She was dumbfounded! 

She made me take her to the grounds beneath the oak tree and had me show her the pouch. 

On opening it, she took one piece of metal and ordered. "Hide the rest! No one can ever find out about this!" 

My mother must have used the gold piece as collateral to receive a loan to expand her fish business because in the next few months, it had grown exponentially. She even employed four other women and placed them at different spots in the market to maximise her reach to customers. 

She also sponsored several fishing expeditions that brought her quality fish at good prices. 

Before long I had quit my newspaper stand business and was helping her manage her now large fish business. 

After about a year, she had given me back the piece of gold and ordered me " Return this buried treasure. The owner has been too kind to allow us the service." 

I took the piece and returned it to the spot. 

A few years later after growing in business and learning about trading, and when I turned of age, I took the pieces to a local bank for safekeeping. I also received dividends and commissions for when the bank conducted business using them. 

I do not claim ownership of the rocks. Possession yes, but not ownership. They still belong to Mr Norse. My mama just taught me how to keep them safe while using them to alleviate our situation. 

I imagine Mr Norse wouldn't mind. He asked me to keep them safe and here 16 years down the line they are still safe. And worth a lot more! 

The strange fellows had stopped coming. Especially after I had grown more powerful. But whenever they will come, I will ask them for the password just as Mr Norse had instructed me. 

After some investigation, I learnt that one of them had worked at the wireless company aboard the Titanic. Had he intercepted the message from Mr Norse to his son and connived to collect the valuable items for himself? Did he come to threaten me without a password thinking I would chicken out and give the pouch to him? 

That's why I will never release it to anyone until I get the password. 

I am not sure whether Mr Norse's son got the message from his father. Or did the news of the Titanic's sinking cause him to drink himself to death? Did the many creditors cause him harm? 

I even went on a search for this son through advertising in newspapers. I always receive letters every day from people claiming to be the son. In these letters, they write all manner of words attempting to unlock the password. None of them has gotten it right so far. 

If no one ever comes forward, upon my demise on this earth, I plan to donate most of my wealth to various charity organizations around the world. Probably create a foundation in the name of Mr Norse. 

Some people have even suggested that the son never existed, to begin with. That Mr Norse was an angel sent to help me and mama out of our poverty. 

I will never know for sure. 

For now, all I will do is keep waiting. Just like I have been doing all these years. 

Maybe Mr Norse might even return! That's what I would hope! I still pray he survived that grave tragedy.