Edward John Smith held a tumbler.
The ice cubes inside clinked against the glass as the whiskey slid over his tongue. He hummed and swayed, pleasant and leisurely in his Captain's cabin.
He was in his sixties and was preparing to retire after overseeing this maiden voyage of the titanic.
Of course, an old man who didn't want to attend social functions could always be forgiven, couldn't he?
Suddenly, a violent jolt was felt.
The screeching sound of friction and the splash of a massive object hitting the water echoed through the night sky... On the deck, tiny shards of ice flew, reflecting countless brilliant colors under the lights. Large chunks of ice were knocked off the iceberg, causing massive bubbles in the seawater.
Smith stared blankly at his side; his phone was ringing.
On the deck, five minutes earlier.
The lookout was engrossed in telling dirty jokes to his duty partner, discussing the differences between British and U.S. girls, and as the conversation deepened, they started talking about men and what happened in bed.
The night was frighteningly cold, so the two men used the heat of their conversation to find solace during the boring and freezing time.
As they spoke, the young man who was listening blinked hard and looked behind his companion, his expression turning from lighthearted to grave—
"That's...!"
He shouted, suddenly pushing his companion to turn around, his finger trembling as he pointed forward!
"Iceberg!"
His voice cracked as he grabbed the bell behind him and rang it frantically. The other man snatched up the phone: "Bastard! Pick up the phone! Hurry!"
The entire ship woke up instantly, starting from the two of them.
The helmsman, hearing the alarm, hurriedly dressed and waited for orders to be given. The crew members dashed into the bridge.
"Iceberg ahead!"
"Hard starboard, fast! Faster!"
The helmsman spun the wheel frantically while an assistant yanked the engine-room telegraph, hauling the lever full-aft; the speed gauge swung to Full Astern.
Below, the boilermaster dropped his ladle, and, over the clang of the telegraph, roared, "Up, all of you! Full astern!"
Red alarm lights flashed; the siren wailed.
"Is the helm hard over?"
"Hard over, sir!"
"Quick! Bleed the steam pressure—now!"
Crewmen dived at the valve wheels, heaving them round to drop the pressure fast.
The alarms kept flashing.
"Close the boiler dampers!"
Underwater, the three-bladed screws slowed. "Good! Now—astern!"
By every crankshaft a stoker waited; now they hauled the shafts in reverse until the silent blades began to backspin.
But titanic was too heavy. The steel colossus ignored the puny humans and slid on.
Captain Smith stood inside, listening to reports, issuing orders, listening again.
Adrenaline made the old man feel young again, battling towering seas—yet the ship was young, and he was not.
Still she glided forward.
Because the iceberg itself floated, the two opposing forces met in a shattering blow.
The ice did not merely dent the skin; it slashed the flank like a knife. The shell plating buckled, brittle as glass; frames and beams scattered like a child's blocks.
Below the waterline a zipper of gashes opened, pouring tons of sea into the holds.
When the tremor ended, the iceberg drifted away.
Smith strode to the rail; several tons of ice littered the deck. "Get the carpenter to survey the damage."
"Aye, sir."
Water was already in third class; first and second had not the faintest idea.
Yet in a shadowed corner someone overheard the Captain and his officers.
Bang-bang-bang!
Sen Getsusa rose from her easel and opened the door. Rose stood drenched, hair plastered to her scalp.
"Miss Rose?"
"Save Jack!" Rose cried, but Sen Getsusa pulled her inside.
Rose sank onto the sofa, dazed; Sen Getsusa pressed a cup of hot water into her shaking hands.
"What happened?"
"Cal—Cal did it! He framed Jack with the diamond; they've taken him!"
Between sobs Rose told of the Heart of the Ocean.
"You mean Mr. Cal had his valet, that LeJour fellow, frame Jack?"
Rose nodded miserably.
Sen Getsusa slipped on her shoes, then remembered: "You said something about an iceberg?"
Rose's eyes flew wide.
"Yes! We've struck one!"
Sen Getsusa: Arrietty, do keep quiet…
Inside the chart room, Captain Smith and his officers watched Andrews unroll a blueprint.
Andrews was the ship's designer.
"Water's already fifteen feet above the keel," he said, tracing the plan with rough fingers. Silence hung heavy; only ragged breathing sounded. "Bottom: three holds and boiler-room six are flooded."
The first officer nodded; he had just come from the inspection.
"Five compartments are breached," Andrews said grimly. "She can stay afloat with any four. The stern drops, water spills—"
His finger slid across: "The bulkhead on E deck, from one compartment to the next—right down the ship. Unstoppable."
Captain Smith said nothing, knuckles white on the table's edge.
Everyone knew: the verdict came from the man who had built her.
"How long?" Smith asked—time still his to command.
"An hour," Andrews muttered, recalculating. "Two at most."
Silence swallowed them.
Two thousand two hundred souls aboard the pride of the century.
Sixty minutes, twenty-two hundred people—the sword of Damocles hung over every head.
"Every crewman—including you! You!" Smith smashed his pipe on the deck; the bowl shattered. He jabbed a finger at Andrews. "You, me, all hands—to the boats!"
"Rouse the passengers—life-jackets on!"
Roaring, the old lion led the way.
Andrews sighed and followed the rush into first class.
There the band still played; the artists had no idea their future lay on the cold black seabed.
-------------------------------
Hope you enjoy this fanfiction if you do and would like to read the next 30 chapters in advance, pls do check out my Patreon.
patreon.com/TLScarlet
Also don't forget to give me a Power Stone if you do like this fiction. Your support really motivates me to continue doing my best in translating, Thanks!!