April 14th, 1912 11:22 PM
"Captain?"
The captain turned his head to face the young Harold Bride, who's face was wind-chilled, and arms clutched his coat around him, tightly.
"You called for me?" he asked, breathlessly, gazing around the warm cabin and taking his winter jacket off.
"Yes; you may lay your coat on the floor," he replied.
"I really think I should be at my position," Harold said. "It's quite a dark night and there could be rocks or ice in the water-"
"Not tonight," the captain replied, gruffly.
"How do you know?" the young man asked, warily.
"Because I need you here tonight," he said.
"Why is that, captain?" Harold asked.
"Please, call me Edward."
"Is that what the 'E' stands for, sir?"
"I'm not sure."
Harold Bride stared at the captain in disbelief, and asked him again; "Why was I called here?"
Edward took a few steps closer to Harold, so he was right in his face when he opened his mouth to speak.
"You were called here, because I need you," he said. "Understand?"
"Ah, I see!" Harold cried, face lighting up. "Please, call me Harry!"
"Oh, so you've done this before?" Edward guessed.
"Sort of; I'm quite the drag queen," Harry informed him, pulling off his shirt and pants to reveal a violet evening gown. He reached into a bag he carried with him and took out a pair of high heels. "For effect," he said, slipping them on.
"How shall we do this?" Edward asked, eyebrows raised.
"I don't know, I've not much experience in the gay department. I've only ever cross-dressed."
"Let's be creative," the captain said, excitedly.
April 15th, 1912 9:35 AM
"Sir, a few question?"
"Yeah?" Harold Bride turned to a news journalist.
"You were the lookout on the H.M.S. Titanic, were you not?" the man asked.
"Yes, I was," Harold replied. The journalist jotted this down.
"And why were you unable to see the iceberg which figured in the terrible disaster which will, without a doubt, go down in history for it's casualties and such misfortune?"
"Um," Harold said. He shifted his eyes about and bounced on his heels nervously a few times before finally saying in a rush; "Edwa- I mean - E.J. - er - the captain never supplied me with binoculars and he threw my glasses overboard!"
The journalist gave Harold a suspicious look, but wrote what he said. "And why did the captain throw your glasses overboard?" he asked.
Harold Bride stuffed a fifty into the journalist's jacket pocket and said, hurriedly; "If anyone asks, go with the binocular story, all right? And tell them I went down with the ship!" And, the journalist looking on in disbelief, watched as Harold Bride swiftly charged to the railing of the rescue ship and promptly leapt overboard into the icy waters below.