Here we go, updated and edited to a better extent for if you're new; welcome :)
Charlotte Taro had a terrible start to the day she was meant to board the RMS Titanic and leave for America, absolutely terrible.
She was awake by 0500am when she only needed to be up by 0700, and upon a near fall into a second dose of sleep, the sound of her door slamming due to a gust of wind caused her to jolt upright. But having been right on the edge of her bed with such a jolt, it was inevitable that she would fall out of it. Not only that, the bedside table was too close and so she went for breakfast with what one could only call a small yet definitely present, second head. That was not where it ended, however. With a measly breakfast of bread and butter for the average morning, she deemed herself lucky to find some jam, alas, that too went awry and landed up on her pyjama top. On the morning of April the 11th, 1912, the day the Titanic arrived in Cork Harbour, Ireland, Charlotte Taro was not a happy lass.
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Aboard the Titanic however, at exactly the time Miss Taro had awoken in a dismal mood, First Officer Murdoch awoke with shine. He was dressed and ready by an hour later and had finished his doings a good 45 minutes before the great ship anchored in the Irish harbour. So with nothing to do but wait he and Officer Lightoller stood upon the bridge and watched the harbour grow ever bigger and draw ever closer, spying out the passengers who had already arrived and were waiting with an excited buzz to board the luxury liner. Both men, it might be added, were equally as excited for their reasons were that they were carefully hand-picked officials – the first, no less – to guide the passengers and ship on its lofty way to America and probably its lofty way back.
"Well, would yoo look at that," Murdoch cooed with a mild Scottish tinge for an accent, "That's the closest I've been to home in a long while,"
"Mmm," Mr Lightoller agreed, "That's the downfall, I suppose. Home is always in passing but never a destination,"
"What are you talking about, Lightoller? Yoo live around the corner," Mr Murdoch had a lovely sense of humour, a true Scotsman, where as Mr Lightoller, though susceptible to such humour, was not always one to give the laugh. But the two Officers had worked together many a time before and in their own ways, had grown rather fond of each other.
Mr Lightoller let out a small snort of a chuckle, leaning towards the harbour as his chest heaved with it. It was short lived however for before they knew it, the harbour was below them and it would not be long before the passengers would board and they needed to be ready,
"Well, Port approaches, Mr Murdoch. We best be getting on."
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"Ow..ow…ow, what exactly are you trying to do to my head?" Charlotte snapped at a friend who agreed to see her off on her grand adventure. That being said, Charlotte Taro was indeed, quite the adventurer, having been all over Great Britain, part of Europe and Asia simply because various opportunities, including the potential opportunities that awaited her, lead her there. For the time of the 1900's, it was unusual for that to occur but Taro had found a way to jump the system and lived her own life in, more often than not, men's clothing and not that she was not shunned, she was but that too – she did her best to ignore. It meant the friends she found were the friends worth keeping.
"Yer goin' to have a right bruise above yer eye, there," she poked it one last time as Taro winced but said nothing, rolling her eyes dismissively instead, "Swellin's gone down though,"
"Oh how lucky I am,"
"We're Irish; we couldn't expect anythin' less,"
"How witty,"
"Oh, lose yer mood, Taro, yer going to America on the grandest ship in the world! I would give anything tu have a mornin' like yers if it meant I got to go,"
"Want my ticket?"
That was met with a right cold stare which Taro had not the time to answer to when the call for passengers to start boarding was issued throughout the harbour and the buzz grew even more excited. People shoving forward, losing each other, finding each other, meeting each other as they all tried to make it on first. But Taro hung back for as long as she could for the moment had finally caught up with her and realisation hit like a steam engine to a building. She froze, though the shove was forcing her to take tiny steps forward. She turned in a frantic moment of panic,
"Seriously, do ye want my ticket? I can't do this,"
But her friend laughed and waved,
"Goodbye, Taro! Hope you meet a lovely man and come back married. It'll be a happy endin' fer us all!"
And then her face was gone – her friend was gone and Taro had said nothing but panic and offer her ticket away. Once she made it to the gangway door, received an odd look from the officer receiving all the personnel, found her room and left her bags to their own fate to gaze out over the waiting sea, she was rather glad the offer was not taken up.
She sighed and made her way to the bow of the ship, cautiously approaching the furthest point of the rails so that she could look down or rather out over the water just to let her heart settle. This was new, this was terrifying, this was possibly the worst idea she had ever had – this was an adventure. For what were adventures if not a series of bad ideas? Looking down, for one, was a horrific idea. It was high and the water was dark and endearing and the thought of both taking her from the rails was not one she wished to entertain and yet the more she looked the more she entertained it. Taro was not distasteful of the sea, merely weary of it. She loved it but not so much as to do something stupid like so many before her that lead to their deaths…but heights, on the other hand. Who was not, even a little, nervous of heights?
A lurch from the ship as it left port told her that the ship was on its way and that if she didn't have her wits about her the next time that happened, she would undoubtedly find herself falling to the sea.
She hurried to where the rest of the third class Irish passengers stood, waving their goodbyes to friends and family they could not see or maybe to no one in particular. Taro was waving to her friend, she couldn't see her but at the same time, back on the ground, her friend couldn't see Taro either so what did it matter – the point was they were waving for each other.
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First Officer Murdoch stood next to his Captain, Captain Smith, once again, a small, proud smile paying over his thin lips. He had been demoted from Chief Officer as was Lightoller but it mattered no more. He was a senior officer aboard the Titanic and that truly, only meant good things. Looking out over the sea, he caught sight of three people leaning over the bow of the ship – third class passengers no doubt but their excitement could not be missed. Murdoch took his leave then and made his way down to the third class deck, eager to start the first round of his many pending rounds aboard the enormous vessel.
Since being on the lowest deck and having taken stairs that gazed straight out towards the bow where the three passengers looked out too, Murdoch got a closer look at them and listening to their accents – one was American and the king of the world, the other Italian and a kingly soul in his own right. The last but not least, was female…
Murdoch furrowed his brow in mild confusion: A female wearing men's clothing or so it appeared. She was no King of the world, she seemed to be just herself, gazing out over an ocean she'd never dared have crossed if luck did not lend its hand to her. The thought made him smile and so came the, all-too-often-referred-to, phrase, "The luck of the Irish."
In that moment he saw the woman turn away from the royal duo, followed by their protests, with a look of mild discomfort. He watched her approach without truly looking where she was going, opting to stand right in her way merely for the fun of causing someone embarrassment. Not out of cruelty but because Murdoch was Scottish and with Scottish humour came Scottish mischief. His plan worked as intended, for right at the last minute, she had turned for one last glance to the sea and backed up straight into him.
"Steady on, Miss," he smiled warmly though his triumph was sending tingles throughout his body. She literally seemed to bounce back before turning to him in shock,
"I…did not see you, Officer, I apologise,"
"Ah, yes, as would have been the case in any soch scenario," he winked at her, straightening his askew sailors cap. She took a deep breath, a sigh to accompany the dismissive smile of his sarcastic wit.
She was pretty, in her own way; a more rounded face, rosy cheeks, a little freckly, a full head of loose reddish, brown curls tied in a bun, falling out here and there, complementing her features well. It was the air of confidence mixed with uncertainty that caught his attention however. That rounded, rosy cheeked face of hers looked like it had seen a lot of many things both good and bad, the hint, perhaps, of someone that was forced to grow up a little too quickly but did their best with what they had. The laugh lines featured prominently too and he found that rather gorgeous,
"I take it yoo'er not a fan of the sea,"
She was distracted,
"Say again?"
"The sea, yoo don't like it much, I take it,"
"Oh no, I love the sea I just don't like the idea of fallin' into it, if ya get ma meanin',"
"All the monsters that lie at the bottom of it that come up to eat sailors when they're hungry,"
"Giant squids and…probably the Loch Ness monster and other wild things, aye,"
"Loch Ness Monster…from the Lake in Scotland, outside Glasgow? A little far from the sea wouldn't yoo say?"
"Aye, well, so was I until I packed me bags and came here," she shrugged and glanced once again, out towards the other two travellers and of course the sea.
He chuckled haughtily – she was joking, using Murdoch's own humour to her advantage. He liked that, was impressed by it. They may not have shared the same love of the sea, but having the knowledge about the truth of what lay in it was more than enough to deem her a suitable acquaintance.
"Officer William McMaster Murdoch, at yoor service, Miss…"
"Taro, Charlotte Taro," she shook his hand apologetically though with a fully-fledged grin upon her slight face, "Sorry, don't quite have the name as ye do…all three with title an' all,"
"Oh, not a bother," he shook his head earnestly, "On that note, Miss Taro, I'm afraid I must bring this lovely talk to an end though it has been a pleasure meeting yoo, Ma'am,"
He tapped his hat as she saluted him and off he went. A good start to the voyage, thought he. And it was; all beginnings are made better when one starts off with a smile.
He did his rounds with his mind constantly replaying his and Miss Taro's thoroughly entertaining chat floating through his head and by the time he had finished he realised he had hardly looked at all. He frowned over his imaginary footprints that indicated his unfocused journey about the ship, his lips pursed with a little "hmmm" escaping them as he did so.
"Not happy with the floorboards, then, Mr Murdoch,"
Murdoch turned to find Lightoller making his way towards him, his hands casually yet gentlemanly clasped behind his back, "I thought them just fine myself until I clipped a shoe on one of them. Unfortunately I kept walking without paying it any mind and now I have lost the devil that gave my shoe its first sign of ruin,"
Murdoch glanced between the floor and Lightoller several times, trying to separate the humour from the genuine. He failed,
"The deck is fine, Mr Lightoller," he turned from his colleague, his friend, and started back towards the bridge, taking a glimpse at Lightoller's offended shoe, "So is yoor shoe, mate,"
"Not as fine as it was," was the blunt reply that followed Murdoch as he departed.
Murdoch laughed as he ascended the stairs to the bridge, saluting the young helmsman, a warm smile to put him at ease, before he turned to the sea once more – the duo now gone, he wondered if Miss Taro might have another attempt at standing by the railings.
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Miss Taro had no such inclination as for the time being. She made her way to her cabin which she shared with 3 other people. Luckily two being a couple so as not to be the only woman…however, she did worry about the night times…
The other was a young man about her age – roughly 28, but he was Swedish and she didn't understand him nor he her so their relationship began and ended with "hello".
"You a'righ', Miss?" the man from the couple asked in a thick backstreet, English accent, "You seem a li'l green…"
She frowned in ponder, shaking her head,
"No, I'm fine, thank ye."
So the adventure had commenced in all its magnificent, heart pounding, opportunistic, exciting glory and all she had on her mind were giant squids.
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