"What's ya up to Liz?" Liz turned to see Warrior sitting pleasantly just across from her. She'd just returned from New York, clear exhaust exiting her two funnels as her lines were tossed to the bollards. "Tinkering." Liz answered before turning back to her distraction, also known as an early 20th century film. "You're putting it in wrong." Warrior said as she watched Liz play with the fragile tape. "You know films?" Liz asked. "I know these films." Warrior replied as she shifted her weight more against the dock. Taking a load off as it were. "Here, give it to me." Liz did. Warrior looked at it for a few seconds. "Newsreel, 1911. You've got good taste." She said. Liz blushed. "The museum gave me a few artifacts to clean up before they put them on display. This one's got Olympic's maiden voyage on it. Thought it might be interesting to watch." Warrior finished installing the film. "Here you go." She said, handing it back. "It should work just fine now." Liz put it in the projector, rolling it for a few seconds. "Wow, that's better than when I was playing with it. How'd you know how to fix it?" She wondered. "As I said, I know these kind of films." Warrior replied.
A week later, Warrior was back out at sea. Liz's films had gone back to the museum after the upkeep and were now on display. Warrior had seen a few of them and watching Olympic's maiden voyage had given her a sense of nostalgia. She knew she had some film from her own rather rocky start lying around somewhere. But since she wasn't brought up with it, she'd just have to go fishing. Turning the corner, she set her bows north, ignoring the complaints from her officers. On deck, she wound up a spool of line and readied it around her anchor chain. After an hour's sail, she came to a stop and threw out her center anchor. The 200 feet of chain ran out at once, then the extra line that Warrior had tied onto it went next. Her advanced sonar gave her an accurate reading of the topography below and she knew she was threading a very fine needle here. She had to get this right the first time. Guided by her underwater 'eyes', Warrior carefully lowered the line into position. On the end of it was a long hook, perfect for snagging the odd piece of debris. She followed her sonar display, guiding the line ever closer to that half moon-circle shape that showed clear on the center of her screen. The line went slack as it hit the ocean floor. "Okay, now for the delicate part." She said, cranking up the sonar to focus in on that one particular large object. "I know its here." She muttered as her display showed numerous little pieces just feet from her hook. "No, no, oh that's where that went. No. Been looking for that. Might need to come back here and get it. No, also no. Nope! Ugh, what's that doing here? No." Eventually, she found what she was looking for, a brass-lead case that held the film. A perfect gift for Liz, if she could get it. "Come to mama." She crooned as she festooned the hook around the top, carefully cradling it. Then she slowly and gently started reeling the line back in. It took 2 full hours to get it back up but once it broke the surface, seeing daylight for the first time in 106 years, Warrior knew it was worth it. "And it ain't even cracked!" She chuckled. "Brilliant!" Clutching her prize, Warrior secured her anchor and returned to her course for New York, head held high.
Warrior did fully expect to be approached by an official upon her arrival in New York. Looting a protected shipwreck was with all intents and purposes, illegal. But when that shipwreck was yourself, or what was left of you, that was a bit trickier. Not that the local boys would know that. So, upon being confronted by an overeager Police boat who had every rule in the book memorized in three different languages, Warrior felt no pity when she laid down the law on the law boat. One harsh word and one phone call later, the police boat left rightly humbled. Smug was not a feeling Warrior was accustomed to feeling. She was usually a humble, quiet boat who was content to keep her head down. She'd learned her lesson about holding her bow too high. But this time, she felt it was warranted and so sailed into her berth at Pier 60 looking like she'd just won the lottery. Docked next to her was Carnival Splendor. "Mornin' Warrior." She greeted. "Morning." Warrior set her prize down on the dock and looked it over. Other than a century's worth of barnacle growth it looked fine. She got out a plastic tub and filled it with water. Opening the box she found all the precious film and plates were in pristine condition. And she hoped to keep them that way. They were undeveloped but the lead casing had done its job and the inside was dry as a bone. Warrior snorted as the stale 106 year old air rustled out, crisp and clean like the North Atlantic was that night. As she moved the plates out into the light, submerging them in the water for processing, Splendor got curious. "What's ya doing?" Not for the first time Warrior was amazed at how much she sounded like the American. Her own questions were worded much the same way. Her Irish brogue had thinned out, only reappearing when she was agitated. The frequent commutes to American shores had caused her to adopt a unique mix of Belfast and New York speak that no other ship today had. She was the only Belfast built liner to sail to these particular shores, a sad thought sometimes to be sure. "I'm lucky." She reminded herself. "I could easily still be in that dark canyon miles below the surface." She shuddered as she recalled that darkness.
Placing the last fragile plate into the water, she started working on the film. Developing it was a time consuming and very delicate process. But Warrior understood these old film rolls better than the modern camera. She carefully unwound the film, checking the tape over with a critical eye for any nicks, scratches or anything that might impede the video's quality. "Old film?" Splendor wondered. "Very old film." Warrior replied. "Undeveloped and recently recovered. I'm trying to see if I can get it to play." "That's not an easy task is it?" Splendor asked. "I mean, those old rolls are finicky." "They can be." Warrior agreed, chuckling as she recalled one particular incident in Belfast when Olympic tried her hand at it. Her big sister never seemed to have the knack for it like she did. "But despite my ineptitude at the modern camera, I get these old things pretty well. Perhaps because they're more hands on." "I can understand that." Splendor shrugged. "I've got the same issue with modern TV sets. I mean, I can't make heads or tales of Xfinity but an old black and white desktop and I'll have it working in no time, no matter how many pieces its in." "Something in common then. We both like old things." Warrior chuckled. Satisfied that the tape was clean, she carefully reeled it back up.
"Wow." Splendor's comment made her look back at the tub. The pictures were beginning to come through, despite the long delay. A few showed Southampton in all its 1912 splendor. Ships lined the docks. "That's Majestic, Philedelphia, and St. Louis." Warrior said, pointing out the three ships docked in a line. "The two further down are Oceanic and New York. Oceanic's closest to land, you can see. They're all stranded due to a coal strike." Warrior explained. "None of them had any fuel?" Splendor asked. "These pictures are incredible. Where were they taken from?" She wondered. "From me." Warrior answered with a sigh. "What?" Splendor looked at her, a bit surprised. "Aren't these like a hundred years old?" "I'm a 107." Warrior shrugged. "A hundred and seven?!" Splendor shouted. "Keep your voice down." Warrior hissed as a few ships looked over at Splendor's outburst. "Sorry." The American said. "Just, didn't expect you to be that old I guess." "I spent 105 of those years in dormancy. It's an easy mistake to make." Warrior shrugged. "A hundred and five years on the ocean floor? Ancients, you poor thing!" Splendor whispered. "I don't like to think about it. It wasn't pleasant." Warrior shrugged. "That being said, the pictures. Each one of those five ships had coal but they gave it up to me. I was due to sail to New York on my maiden voyage and no one wanted to see that delayed." "Can understand that. The attitude's haven't changed much." Splendor muttered. "Well anyways," Warrior pulled out one of the pictures, which displayed a large two funneled steamer at an odd angle, her mooring lines trailing in the water as she was positioned just feet from the photographer vessel's side. "Is that?" Splendor wondered. "SS New York. She was half mad, crazed I might say. The lines that didn't snap she bit through. And if she had any steam to build up she likely would've turned that prow of hers and rammed it into my flank. As it was, it was a close call. A close call I sometimes wish wasn't close at all. Perhaps if she had hit me, things would've turned out very differently." Warrior sighed. "How differently?" Splendor asked. "Like 'no being an idiot and sprinting through and icefield so I can hit a chunk' kind of different." "Ouch." Splendor winced. "So you're..." "Yeah." "Ouch." Splendor said again. "That uh, that kinda sucks." "Tell me about it." Warrior huffed. "Well, I won't judge. And since I presume that I need to keep my silence on this then I'll ask for one favor in return." Splendor said. "And that is?" "You tell me stories." "Splendor, I was on my maiden voyage. It's not like I'm a gold mine of info. I wasn't around long enough." "You recall Belfast yes? Southampton too I imagine. A first hand account is a rare thing nowadays. The only other ship who could tell is Nomadic and she's had her brain picked clean several times. A fresh insight is always a good thing." "You drive a hard bargain, very well." Warrior conceded. "But you don't share with anyone! None of that big mouthed flabber jabber you Yanks are famous for." "Hey now, we're not that bad!" Splendor pouted.
Back in Southampton, Warrior reversed into her berth. Liz was there again, reading a dusty old book the cover of which was too faded for Warrior to see. Without looking up, she leaned far over against the dock. Her wide beam made it difficult for the slimmer ship to get in so she offered a bit more sea room. "Thank ya Liz." Warrior said as she settled. Liz turned the page, offering a nod in reply. "You're engrossed in that book so I simply cannot contain my curiosity and must ask. What is it?" Warrior asked. Liz finally bookmarked her spot and put it down. "The very first copy of Futility. It took me a while to track it down." She replied. "That going to the museum as well?" Warrior asked. "Nope, its in my own personal collection." "Here's something you can add to it, or give it to the museum, whichever suits." Warrior handed her a case. "What's this?" Liz asked. "Some old film and a few plates as well. The plates are finished and I developed the film myself but it hasn't been played yet." Warrior said. Liz opened the case, looking through the plates. "Wow, these are, these are amazing Warrior. How'd you get these?" She wondered. "Very, very carefully. And a bit disgracefully too I might add. If I was anyone else." Warrior replied. Liz snorted and finally got to the picture of New York. "Now she doesn't look very happy." She remarked. "She was a mad vessel. And seemed intent on giving me an enema." Warrior answered. Liz switched to the next plate which was taken in the early morning on April 3, 1912. "Is this, you?" Liz asked slowly. Warrior leaned over to get a better look and nodded. "Yes and I was dressed for the occasion too." She replied. Easter Sunday that year, the one and so far the only time she'd ever worn her flags. She remembered the photo well, even remembered posing for it. "Harbeck, that was the photographer's name, had one hell of a time getting me to sit still long enough to take the picture. I think it took like a dozen attempts or something like that. Southampton was all new to me then and I was a young ship. Fresh out of Belfast and I wanted to see and look at everything. Bit more difficult than Mary and her captain badass." Liz snorted with laughter and pulled out the film. "Is this?" She breathed in awe. "Actual footage of the near collision between RMS Titanic and SS. New York. Shot on board said former ship." Warrior winked. "Go on, you'll be the first to see it." She encouraged. "I want all of us to see it." Liz replied. "Mary, Viccky get your sterns over here!" She shouted. A few berths down at the QEII terminal, Liz's fleetmates paused in their banter. "What's up Liz?" Victoria asked, knowing that when her little sister called her by her nickname, she was serious. "Warrior brought up some really really important film. Like, really important." "Thought salvaging wasn't allowed." Mary looked at her oldest fleetmate who shrugged and said "I bent the rules a little bit." Victoria snorted and the four settled in to watch what was by far the Holy Grail of Maritime Film. The only known real footage of Titanic in Southampton.