Going Down with the Ship
Since the moment I heard she was going, I knew what my fate would be. I would have to go with her; she would be my grave, my tomb. I was to go down with my ship, Titanic.
The trip started out so promisingly. We were making good time, were planning on reaching New York ahead of schedule, but it was all for nothing. The ship was sinking, that was for sure, and she was taking thousands with her.
She was the "Unsinkable Ship", the "Ship of Dreams", but it was all a lie. She was sinkable; she was the "Ship of Nightmares". Titanic was to be the tomb for many, including me.
When my first mate, Mr. Murdoch, informed me of our fate, I just stood in shock, in awe. The first and now only voyage, of this great ship…would kill many. I couldn't process the information given to me; all I heard was a ringing in my ears.
It took many minutes before I was half-awakened by one of the crew asking me if women and children should go first. I just stared at him for a moment before agreeing to the arrangement. At least the women and children could survive, that was something.
I strolled through the decks of my great ship, walking past crying mothers and children, scared men who tried to reassure their wives that they would find them as soon as they got on a lifeboat, kissing them goodbye before placing them in a boat. It was all a blur though. Nothing was clear, not even the women who ran into me moments ago.
I knew what the right thing for me to do was; the most important task a captain with a sinking ship could ever do. I must go down with my ship; with the Titanic.
Knowing my purpose, I seemed to have a weight lifted off my chest. This burden of knowing that I was a cause in the death of many, seemed lift off of me, knowing that I was going to pay my price. I wasn't scared, I was peaceful.
The trip to the helm didn't seem as long as it was before; not as scary. It was like walking home, to find that your family is waiting for you; and in reality, I knew this was true. I was going to see my parents again; I was going to see my grandmother and grandfather. I was going home.
The cabin came into view, and I silently walked through the doors and locked them; sealing my fate. I calmly walked over the wheel, grasping it with my hands, feeling the sturdiness of the wood. This wheel steered this whole ship, the lives of the passengers on board, and it had failed them.
Taking a deep breath, I began to look around my tomb; my sanctuary. It was surreal. The water seemed to be rising higher and higher over the windows; freezing them over, casting an eerie glow over the floorboards, until the windows where completely under water.
It was like being in some terrible dream, but I knew I would never wake from it. I knew where I was going though, which comforted me.
While musing, I heard something that sounded like ice breaking. Looking over, I saw the windows starting to crack, to break, letting the water consume me.
But, I wasn't afraid. I was, strangely, happy. I would be home, and I would always be home.
The water broke through its final barrier, ice-water pounding into the cabin, into me. But I felt none of it; saw none of it; because I saw a flash of white, and a strong hand, reaching for mine.
I was going home.
If you were unaware who I was writing about, this was Edward Smith, Captain of the RMS Titanic on the day it sank on April 14-15, 1912.