You Jumped, I Jumped, Remember?
Prologue: Death of a Titan
Disclaimer: I do NOT own Titanic
The White Star Line lookouts Fleet and Lee stared out into the abysmal darkness on the night of April 14th, 1912, riding in the crow's nest of the grandest ship in the world, the R.M.S Titanic. They both soon spotted an iceberg five hundred feet or so from the bow of the unsinkable ship. Fleet took to action at once, not able to believe his eyes.
"Bugger me!"
Fleet reached past Lee and rang the lookout bell three times, then grabbed the telephone, calling the bridge. He waited precious seconds for it to be picked up, never taking his eyes off the black mass ahead.
"Pick up, you bastards!"
Inside the enclosed wheelhouse, Sixth Officer Moody walked unhurriedly to the telephone, picking it up.
Is someone there?
Yes. What do you see?
"Iceberg, right ahead!"
Mr. Thomas Andrews, the master shipbuilder of Harland and Wolff, the man who'd supervised the construction of Titanic, rolled out his blueprints. He placed two paperweights on the blueprints, the captain of Titanic joining him at his side. As of now, he was the only one who could give the crew answers. Now he knew it was only a matter of time before… the unthinkable happened.
"Water... fourteen feet above the keel in ten minutes... in the forepeak... in all three holds... and in boiler room six."
"When can we get underway, damn it?" Bruce Ismay, the managing director for the White Star Line, demanded.
"That's five compartments! She can stay afloat with the first four compartments breached. But not five. Not five. As she goes down by the head, the water will spill over the tops of the bulkheads... at E Deck... from one to the next... back and back. There's no stopping it." Andrews told him, his nervous energy taking over him.
"The pumps-" Captain E.J. Smith interrupted.
"The pumps buy you time... but minutes only. From this moment, no matter what we do, Titanic will founder." Andrews said worriedly.
"But this ship can't sink!" Ismay exclaimed, horrified by the sound that met his ears.
"She is made of iron, sir. I assure you, she can. And she will. It is a mathematical certainty." Andrews answered gravely.
"How much time?" Captain Smith asked the master shipbuilder
"An hour, two at most." Andrews said quietly.
"And how many aboard, Mr. Murdoch?" Smith asked.
"Two thousand two hundred souls aboard, sir." William Murdoch replied.
"I believe you may get your headlines, Mr. Ismay." Captain Smith said.
Author's note: I didn't technically write this. I just borrowed lines from the script. James Cameron's script, that is. :)