A/N: As this is the first chapter-fic for Titanic I have ever written, I feel I must go into a rather lengthy author's note. You may skip it if you wish, but it may help you to understand the fic a little bit better. Perhaps not; I leave it to you to decide.

First off, I have been writing this fic since the summer of 2008. School got in the way after that and demanded I devote all my time and energy to it, so there was very little time for this left. I think I got through sixteen chapters before school, and what remains after that was done when I actually had a free moment. And, of course, I've gone back and changed a few things that just didn't work.

I think you would probably like a decent summary of this fic, but please let me explain parts of it before you make a snap judgment: This fic concerns a girl named Angie Marshall who fell in love with Jack. BUT, it is the unrequited love that so many of us poor girls are more than familiar with. There is in no way any chance of Jack returning these feelings, so don't worry about a Jack/OC. Or any pairing concerning my OC and a main character, for that matter. I don't want this to be a romantic fic, and if it is, it was not my intention. Yes, Angie does get on the Titanic; I really hope that won't turn you away immediately. Please give this a chance; if you don't like it after a few chapters, you certainly don't have to keep reading.

I have assimilated every fact I can about Titanic and worked them into the story. You will see many, many historical figures and I am more than happy to explain who they are if you don't know. I am also very open to constructive criticism; remember, I can only improve through advice.

You are probably thinking now, "Watch this girl be a Mary-Sue." I was horrified of that myself. But I can assure you that I took the Mary-Sue Litmus Test on Bohemian Anne's website and discovered that Angie is actually not a Mary-Sue. Which of course thrilled me to no end, because I'm always terrified of writing Sues. However, if you find any of her qualities somewhat Sueish, don't hesitate to tell me.

Now, a note on the title. If you remember the church scene in the movie, they sing "Eternal Father, Strong to Save," and one verse mentions, "….save all who dare the eagle's flight." I found that very interesting and, naturally, very fitting for the Ship of Dreams; it was as if it was a plea for God to save all of those who ventured aboard the Titanic. I felt that it was a very fitting title for this story.

And now, finally, we move to the story itself. The first chapter is a short introduction; none of the characters really show up here. I'll have the second chapter up tomorrow, if I can. I adore reviews, especially considering I value your opinion on my writing that I know needs improvement. And not just those little one-liners that always demand an update; that doesn't help me at all. Sorry, but it doesn't. Flames will be used to warm up my arctic house.

Disclaimer: I do not own Titanic; I only own Angie and a few small characters you don't recognize.

O Spirit, whom the Father sent

To spread across the firmament

O wind of heaven, by Thy might

Save all who dare the eagle's flight

December 16th, 1939

I have just read the newspapers this morning; Patrick O'Keefe died. I can't believe it; he was only forty-nine, a few years older than me. I remember him very well; he was an Irishman who had been on my lifeboat. He's the second of our boat to have died so far; the colonel was the first. But I'm rambling. I came here to write, and there's no telling how much time I'll have before I'm discovered bent over a notebook in the attic, looking over the newspaper articles I've collected since 1912. My children have no idea what I've gone through and my husband has respected my wishes to not discuss the Titanic if at all possible.

They called it the Ship of Dreams. It certainly was the Ship of Dreams; I had nightmares about the Titanic for years after just barely escaping in a lifeboat. I hardly ever spoke of it after the Carpathia, and even then it was only to the survivors. My husband and I have talked about it quietly, but we abstained from doing so ever since the first lightning storm that brought our oldest running to our room. Children tend to leave little room for esoteric conversations.

Titanic was and is not something taken lightly. There are those who can recall the events of a war they fought in or an automobile accident they were injured in easily enough. I am not so fortunate. Some survivors have no issues with recalling all that they saw that horrible, fateful night. Others, like myself, refuse to speak about it. I speak of it only now because I feel that it is time I remove one last burden before my time comes to join all my friends who perished in the icy waters; if Patrick can die before he was fifty, who's to say I won't as well? I have kept this in my heart for far too long, only allowing occasional recollections with my husband and close friends, but now it is time to let my hand tell the story of the longest night I have ever endured.

There were many who died that night, many whom I had come to know and love. All of these people died because of one chunk of ice. Because of the foolishness and arrogance of the White Star Line and the press, which has become considerably more corrupt since 1912; they are eager to report every battle in Europe, egging America into joining the throng. I dedicate this memoir to the memories of all who lost their lives on April 15th, 1912, and to any survivors who might have died since then; may they rest in peace.

Although this memoir primarily concerns the Night to Remember, my story really starts with one man. He was the man who, however inadvertently, led me to the Titanic. He was the first man I fell in love with and the only one who never knew. His name was Jack Dawson.