The Titanic, “The Great Unsinkable Ship Sank!”

The frigid April night air filled the confined space of the cramped stateroom. Victor’s pale blue lips glistened from tiny beads of salty seawater mist. The once dimly lit stateroom fell into complete darkness; it became his steely coffin. He slowly slipped away into a semiconscious state. Blood-curdling cries of help echoed throughout the sinking ship’s cabins. Fond memories of his youth played through his mind.

A halo of soft white light hung over Elizabeth’s silhouette. She leaned over, calling, “Victor! Victor! Wake Up!” Victor mustered what energy he forced his eyes open. Drenched in a cold sweat, He jolted, surveying his surroundings.

Fumbling in the faint moonlit room, Victor sensed the warmth of Elizabeth’s calming soul lying peacefully asleep. Victor glanced at the side table; his timepiece read 4 A.M. Victor lightly kissed Elizabeth and lay back down.

“Victor! Get up!” Elizabeth’s voice echoed throughout their quaint cottage. The alluring aroma of burnt bread and coffee enticed Victor from his restless slumber. He could not help but shake the nagging vivid imagery in his dreams. Tonight’s dream was all too real and shook Victor’s confidence days before the maiden voyage of the RMS Titanic.

He still needed to finalize an exhaustive evaluation checklist. As the deadline grew closer, his dreams became increasingly more frequent and frighteningly realistic. He supposed it was merely the stress of it all. Eventually, everything worked out like in previous visions, but this time something was different. Victor could not place the foreboding sensation.

“Victor, your breakfast is getting cold,” Elizabeth bellowed. “I will be right down,” Victor acknowledged. Their home was cozy, simple, and modest; it met Victor and Elizabeth’s current needs.

Strategically placed candles cast a warm glow, illuminating the furnished kitchen. Elizabeth’s calming voice drew Victor’s attention away from the reality of his visions. “Are they still bothering you?” she said; “Yes, but they are different,” Victor said, disheveled and weary from another restless night.

Elizabeth had a way of reassuring him with a sympathetic tone. She knew how to comfort and soothe Victor’s nervousness. “I’m sure everything will be fine.” She said, leaned over, and gave him an encouraging kiss. Victor was not sure this time. Cutting corners and sacrificing safety features to meet the unrealistic tight deadline only added to Victor’s fears. Hopefully, Victor prayed these feelings would pass.

The sun’s warm rays warmed the chilly April morning air, casting an eerie shadow on Berth 44, where the RMS Titanic remained docked. It was a magnificent feat of engineering achievement. She was a massive steel sailing vessel, the first of her class.

Final preparations for the ship’s maiden voyage were underway. The bustling dockyard was a chaotic yet well-organized scene, akin to a beautifully choreographed ballet. Victor approached the shipyard as he had done many times before and immediately began working. The weight of his unpleasant dreams had taken its toll on Victor as he struggled to stay awake.

The Titanic shed a haunting shadow over the Belfast shipyard. She had returned from sea trials and passed a less rigorous and scaled-down assessment. These exercises were barely enough to satisfy the minimal requirements for seaworthiness. The sea trial results did not sit well with Victor, only compounding his uneasiness.

Captain Edward Smith was a distinguished commander, a veteran of many successful expeditions. The Titanic’s first destination was Southampton to pick up the remaining passengers for its Transatlantic journey.

The Captain hollered down from the helm. “Victor! What a mighty fine vessel, don’t you think?” He was barely audible over the din of machinery. He motioned for Victor to join him on the bridge. Victor’s mind raced with imagery from his unsettling dreams. What could the Captain want?

“Ahoy, Sir,” Victor said as he saluted the Captain.

“Christ, Victor, you don’t have to salute me. Since the Second Anglo-Afghan War, we’ve been mates when you pulled shrapnel from my leg.”

“Sir, it would be improper to break maritime etiquette,” Victor said with a shit-ass smirk on his face. “Yes, she is a mighty fine ship, Ed,” Victor agreed with the Captain.

“We’ve pulled some strings for you to sail with us on this historic voyage. I sure hope you reconsider,” Ed said in an earnest tone.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I have a backlog of work piled higher than this ship,” Victor said.

“You have time to consider it. Let me know if I can change your mind. “

“If you don’t mind, Sir, I need to make a final walk-through before we set out for Southampton,” Victor said as he fidgeted with his clipboard.

“Ah, yes! I heard the esteemed JP Morgan, Col. Jacob, Astor, Isidor Straus, and Benjamin Guggenheim will join us for this historic crossing.” Captain Edward Smith turned and gazed out from the bridge. “You know they boast this ship is unsinkable. They say it can withstand a collision with an iceberg.”

“Aye, Captain, I hope you don’t test this theory for your sake.” Victor saluted, turned, and left the bridge, refocusing his attention on his clipboard.

The deck was bustling. A crew of longshoremen was loading baggage and supplies as a grubby young boy stood on the edge of the gangway. He remained frozen in awe of the vastness and enormity of the ship before him.

“You don’t belong here, boy. You’ll get in the way.” Glen Bigsby was a grumpy old steward with no time for a young rascal running amuck on his ship. “Boy!” Glen’s voice escalated into an authoritative tone. “Get the blood fuck out here. Shouldn’t you be in school?”

“Piss off, you old wanker!” The boy said, “I have a telegram for the Captain. Sheamus O’Mally sent me to deliver this message, but maybe I’ll take it and head to school,” The young boy taunting Glen.

“Why, you nipper, bring that note to me!” Glen was in no mood for his tomfoolery today. He was behind schedule.

“Boy, bring that message now!” He could feel his heart racing.

“Ten shillings and this scrap of paper is yours,” the boy said. He balanced on the edge of the gangway, dangling the note.

“WHY! You little crotch critter, here are your eight shillings, now get!”

“You got it, mister!” Glen tossed the eight shilling on the deck and tore the yellow stain paper from the boy’s hand. “Wanker!” the boy muttered, and he scooped the tarnished coins, tucked them in his pocket, and sauntered off.

Glen ripped open the message and promptly reported the news to the Captain.

“Captain!” Glen called out.

“Aye!”

“J.P. Morgan wouldn’t make the historical journey. He’s delayed in Marseille,” Glenn reported.

“He is a pompous ass, anyway.” The Captain declared.

“Carry on, Glen, thank you for bringing this to my attention; keep this between us for now,” Captain Edward ordered.

“Very well, Sir” Glen left the bridge. It was odd the Captain wanted him to keep this a secret. It wasn’t his job or his role to question the Captain. Glen was in no doubt the Captain had his reasons.

A few miles away, in a seedy pub deep in the slums of Belfast, the early morning air was heavy with a thick fog. Samuel Finigan sat at the Tilted Kilt pub contemplating his life choices, looking over a cryptic message sent to him by an enigmatic malicious benefactor. Who could solve all his financial shortcomings?

The note read, “Pick up a black suitcase at 429 River View Road at 5 A.M. and bring it to the G deck post office of RMS Titanic.”

Visible beads of cold sweat formed on the man’s brow as he repeatedly ran his cold and clammy hand through his thinning hair. “Are you alright, mate?” The bartender asked.

“Yeah, I am fine.” Samuel dropped ten shillings on the bar and discreetly left as he had arrived. “Thank you, buddy!” the bartender turned as Samuel disappeared out of sight.

Samuel haled a passing cab. The clickety-clack of the horse’s hoof echoed through the deserted streets. Samuel contemplated his decision, knowing it was the only way to save his failing business and restore favor with his estranged family. The cab approached 429 River View Road.

Nestled set back from the road edge was a decrepit, abandoned cottage. “Wait right here,” Samuel orders. He paused and questioned his past life choices, muttering, “In for a penny, in for a pound.” Samuel knew he was in too deep. He hurried up the unkempt, overgrown stone path, and right where the note said, a nondescript black suitcase sat. He was looking for signs of any onlookers. Samuel could tell from his initial observation no one had lived here. He moved cautiously and with a last glance. He grabbed the suitcase.

It was heavy for its dimensions. Samuel’s heart was racing, and his mouth and parched. Returned to the cabby, “ten quid for your strictest confidence, you saw nothing tonight. Hurry to the shipyard an additional ten quid if you can get there in record time.” Samuel said, sitting in a pool of sweat and self-doubt; he sank into the carriage’s worn-out seat.

“Aye, mate!” the cabbie chirped as they sped away.

The moaning and whining of cold, hardened steel under tremendous force muffled the screams for help, accompanied by the rushing of the frigid seawater. Victor jolted out of a nightmare-like slumber, his pajamas drenched.

“Victor, it’s just another dream!” Elizabeth laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“No, Elizabeth, this was so real I can’t let the ship leave port today,” Victor said, urgently getting out of bed and rushing to the dresser. “Elizabeth, I have to convince the Captain to stay in port for one more day.” Victor pulled on a pair of tattered trousers.

“Victor, do you think he will listen? You’ve knackered for the past year,” Elizabeth said, sitting up in bed.

“I’ve got to try,” Victor said as he dashed down the stairs.

“VICTOR, I love you!” shouted Elizabeth from the second-floor window. Victor stopped dead in his tracks and turned. “I love you too, Elizabeth Mary O’Shea.”

“You’ll make a wonderful father, Victor O’Shea,” Elizabeth said, smiling from ear to ear.

“You are pregnant!” A momentary sense of tranquil sensation came over Victor, knowing he had to convince the Captain. “When I get back, we’ll celebrate!” Victor turned and swiftly rushed down the lane to the shipping yard and Berth 44.

Berth 44 was eerily still. Only a few post guards stood outside the main gate. “This is far enough,” Samuel ordered the cabby to stop.

“Here’s Thirty quid that should cover our arrangement,” he shoved the money into the cabby’s hand.

“Aye, very generous, sir,” the cabby turned and galloped off.

Victor had one thing on his mind. He had to stop the ship from leaving port at all costs.

Concentrating on his end intention, he didn’t witness the hastily approaching cabby. The cabbie noticed Victor moving in his direction. He swerved expertly, veering to avoid a head-on collision.

The cabbie yelled. “Hey, bud!”

“Sorry, mate! Didn’t see you!” Victor said and continued on his way to the shipping yard and Berth 44.

Samuel approached the guard stations with trepidation.

“Sam! Samuel O’Malley”, Victor called out.

Samuel came to a standstill, wondering what Victor was doing here. As the minutes passed, his plan became riskier.

“What brings you here at this ungodly hour, Victor, you old dog?” Samuel said.

“I need to persuade the Captain to reschedule the launch. I am not comfortable with the sea trial results,” Victor said.

“However, I should ask you what you’re doing here? I thought your crew finished weeks ago?”

“Yes, of course.” Samuel fidgeted with his package. He was trying to come up with an answer. “Tommy grabbed the wrong spare parts bag, and I was just returning it,” Samuel explained, not knowing if Victor would fall for his thinly veiled lie.

“I need to find the Captain. Do you want me to return it? It’s the least I can do for you. Your crew helped us get back on track.”

Samuel paused and knew full well that he could pawn off his package and be long gone before anyone was the wiser. “Yeah, sure thing, it needs to go to the G deck post office.”

“Aye, no worries, mate,” Victor took the case and proceeded to G Deck. “Cheers mate, pass along my well-wishes to your wife.” Samuel turned left.

The ship’s gentle rocking and audible creaking were soothing and familiar. Victor navigated the ship’s decks and bulkheads with the skill of a seasoned sailor. A sense of déjà vu washed over him as he approached G Deck. Victor shook it off and went directly to the post office, where he noticed a case of replacement parts already. “Why would Sam deceive me?” Victor thought to himself.

Victor was confident he needed to halt the launch. With his curiosity peaked, Victor began examining the hefty suitcase, looking for a way to open it and inspect the contents. A pair of tarnish brass buckles secured the briefcase. Victor rummages around for something to pry it open, locating a screwdriver; he successfully pried one buckle free.

While attempting to jimmy the second buckle free, Victor hears an unusually suspicious ticking sound. In an instant, a flash of blinding white light accompanied by a thunderous boom and searing heat knocked Victor to the floor. After a few moments, he remained motionless. The loud sounds of cascading explosions shook Victor in and out of consciousness.

The rumble of cold, hardened steel cracking echoed in the background. Numb from the blast, Victor called out, “Elizabeth, I love you.” He closed his eyes and welcomed calm and stillness as he felt the icy water slowly fill the compartment.

Berth 44 shook with a large, thunderous boom. Turning the early morning sky a bright yellow and orange hue, illuminating the sleeping seaside town for miles as plumes of white and fiery smoke billowed from the docked ship’s stacks.

The O’Shea residence shook. “NOOO NO!” Elizabeth woke, worried Victor’s nightmare was coming to fruition. She raced towards Berth 44, aware of what she would soon confirm to be true.

The sleepy-eyed guards were stunned by the explosion and immobilized by the rapidly growing smoke and flames engulfing the once peaceful shipyard. They quickly radioed for emergency aid after contacting the board of trustees.

Samuel looked back with remorse at the consequences of his selfish actions. An overwhelming sense of guilt welled up inside him and consumed all his thoughts. Did he send a good man to his death because of selfish greed? He couldn’t look back anymore. Instead, he rushed as fast and as far as he could with reckless abandon to the nearest railway station.

From the terrifying backdrop of the burning Titan, he hurriedly made his way through the eerily illuminated streets. Samuel was so focused on getting to the train station and escaping unnoticed that he was unaware of the approaching fire engine, but it was too late for the modern steam-powered fire engine to stop.

It collided with Samuel and knocked him to the ground. Samuel felt himself growing colder from the steady loss of blood. He couldn’t feel his legs or arms. He gave in to the darkness and welcomed his punishment, knowing he could not live with himself for disappointing his family and friends. It was only a matter of time before they connected the explosion to him.

The driver concentrated on the destination, not realizing what they had struck in the dimly lit, smoke-filled street before continuing to the shipyard without missing a beat.

The headline the following day read, “The Great Unsinkable Ship Sank!” Massive explosions ripped through the Belfast shipyard just before dawn and ahead of the RMS Titanic’s maiden voyage, sinking her and several other vessels. A preliminary investigation pointed to industrial sabotage, but it could be months or years before anyone would have the true story discovered.