After Murray had found out that his mother was telling the truth, and that
he was indeed related to Thomas Andrews Murray had called the television
station, asking about the news item, and where the letter was now. "It's in
the possession of the man who was in charge of the latest dive to the
Titanic, a Professor Eric Wyatt." The lady had said. "You can contact him
at Harvard University in America." Murray had immediately contacted Wyatt,
who was more than interested to hear his tale. "So you never even knew you
were related. Fascinating." The professor had said in that cool, detached
tone that professors everywhere use. "Can I see the letter?" Murray had
asked, thinking that there would be no chance of this, but the professor
was more than agreeable. "Whenever you're in America let me know." He'd
said. Murray had been delighted, and so had his mother. The only person who
wasn't completely delighted was Mary, Murray's wife. "I don't mean to be
rude Murray, but ever since you found out that you were related to that
bloke you've been in another world. To tell the truth it's spooky." She'd
said.
"Any questions now?" The tour guide's voice cut into Murray's reverie.
"How many people died again?" A German woman asked.
"1517 died that night. You might like to know that 60% of the first class passenger were saved, 42% of the second class, 25% of the third class, and 24% of the crew." The tour guide said. "Any more questions?"
"When you watch Titanic, they show a lot of the crew members in the movie-I was wondering whether what they did in the movie, was based on their actions that night?" An American man asked.
"Of course. After the tragedy there was a Senate inquiry into the Titanic's sinking, a huge report came from it with much first-hand testimony. And of course the survivors also told people things, and it all got put into books, and movies.." The tour guide explained.
Murray had actually read the Senate inquiry when he'd first arrived at Harvard. The huge library there housed pretty much everything, and he'd spent a few days reading it. There had been little about Thomas Andrews in the report-more than likely not many people actually knew who he was! Murray sighed, and leant over the rail again, tuning out the tour guide and the boring questions the tourists were asking. He thought back to when he had read the letter. Wyatt had been very generous in letting him read it. Murray had been amazed at the condition it was in-how on earth had it survived ninety years at the bottom of the ocean? Wyatt had laughed when Murray asked him this. "Would you believe it was in his safe? Quite a laugh when you think about the way they were searching for the heart of the ocean in Caledon Hockley's safe in the movie Titanic isn't it?" And then Murray had been left to read the letter from his second cousin, the letter his second cousin had wrote knowing he would soon be dead:
April 14, 1912.
Dear Uncle William,
So far the crossing seems to be going as planned. There are a few minor details I wish to correct when we get the chance, but never the less the Titanic appears to be everything we planned. The arrival in New York is bound to be a big one, as we've been heading along at full steam, and are having no problems. Uncle, let me say I think this ship is the grandest ever built, and I am very proud to have been the one to oversee its building. As we have been sailing I've been making notes not only of the things I wish to correct on the ship as such, but also about other things. For example yesterday I was in the Café Parisien with some of the ships younger passengers, and they mentioned that it would be nice to have the band play in there sometimes also. Another thing mentioned to me is that there should be some more nice plants in the Palm Court. Blast! Sorry about the messy writing just then, there was a terrible shudder, and noise. It could be a propeller blade. I shall go and check though before I finish this off and retire for the night.
Uncle, I can't believe this. In an hour or so this ship is going to be at the bottom of the ocean, and me with it. I suppose I knew it wasn't a propeller blade when I wrote that last sentence, but I had to check.
We hit an iceberg. The lookouts didn't see the berg until it was too late, and then we couldn't turn in time to avoid it. The ship scraped along the berg, and punched holes in her side. When they told me how far the water had risen I knew that was it. I felt sick as I informed the captain that the Titanic would sink. Ismay, of course, was in denial, claiming that the ship couldn't sink. But I assured him that the unsinkable ship, could, and would sink. There's simply no way that this ship can stay afloat when so many compartments had breached. They hurried off to make sure that the crew got the lifeboats out, and make sure everyone is wearing a lifebelt. The lifeboats which won't even carry everyone on board. There would have been room for the second row inside the first, but no, I had to be overruled about it. And I had to bow to pressure in deciding that the deck would look too cluttered, and besides, who would ever have thought the Titanic would sink? I suppose, as I sit here writing this, on an uneven table as the ship is going down further and further, that this is my fault to some degree. Not just the lifeboat issue, but others. I thought it was a strong and safe ship, and I was wrong. Now many people are going to die, and I deserve to die also. I can hear noise everywhere-the passengers are scared and don't know what to do. In a moment I am going to put this in the safe and hope someday, somehow, you'll get to read this, and then I am going to go and see whether there are any people I can help. After all I owe at least this much don't I?
Yours fondly,
Your ever loving nephew,
Thomas Andrews.
When Murray had finished reading the letter he had felt a chill up his spine. Even thought he'd only recently found out about Thomas Andrews being his second cousin he still felt sorry for the man. How would it have felt to know that you and many others were going to die, on the very ship you had built? And even though after the sinking he had been cleared of blame it didn't help him then, did it? Murray had gone back to his hotel and called his wife to tell her about the letter, and how strange it made him feel. "Interesting." She'd said coldly. "Are you coming home now then?" Murray had frowned at his wife's apparent indifference. "No, I'm actually going to take a tourboat out to the site of the wreck first." He had told her. "Go to the wreck?" She'd cried. "Are you barmy? What point does that honestly serve?" "I don't know," He'd admitted. "I just feel like it's something I had to do..try and understand Mary." He'd actually begged her then. "Understand?" She'd repeated, her voice cracking up. "I understand that your family is here, and they need you, but you've spent the last week over in America chasing a ghost! And even before you went you weren't really here. Ever since your mum told you all this you've been obsessed." "Obsessed?" Murray had laughed. "Come on Mary, don't you think that's a bit of an exaggeration?" Mary had snapped "No, I don't think it is. Come home when you've laid the ghost to rest Murray, since there is no way you're going to come before you do so." And then she had hung up on him. And ever since then she'd refused to take his calls.
"Now ladies and gentlemen, if you don't mind I think we better head back before you all freeze!" The tour guide said, and the boat started up again. As it left the site Murray sighed again, and said a mental goodbye to the relative he'd never even known, and then went inside to get a warm cup of tea.
With his hands wrapped firmly around his warm cup of tea Murray contemplated the journey. He didn't know why he had felt like he had to go, and he probably never would, but he did feel as though something was closed. A piece of the family history perhaps? Reading the letter from Thomas Andrews, who had been wracked with guilt and seeing the spot where he had died along with so many others had put a few things in perspective. Like, for example, the fact that he was still alive, and had a life to live, and a family to spend time with. Before he arrived home from the airport he was going to have to pick up a huge bunch of roses for Mary to apologize for being such a fool about the whole thing. At least now, he knew who Thomas Andrews was, and his mind was clear.
"Any questions now?" The tour guide's voice cut into Murray's reverie.
"How many people died again?" A German woman asked.
"1517 died that night. You might like to know that 60% of the first class passenger were saved, 42% of the second class, 25% of the third class, and 24% of the crew." The tour guide said. "Any more questions?"
"When you watch Titanic, they show a lot of the crew members in the movie-I was wondering whether what they did in the movie, was based on their actions that night?" An American man asked.
"Of course. After the tragedy there was a Senate inquiry into the Titanic's sinking, a huge report came from it with much first-hand testimony. And of course the survivors also told people things, and it all got put into books, and movies.." The tour guide explained.
Murray had actually read the Senate inquiry when he'd first arrived at Harvard. The huge library there housed pretty much everything, and he'd spent a few days reading it. There had been little about Thomas Andrews in the report-more than likely not many people actually knew who he was! Murray sighed, and leant over the rail again, tuning out the tour guide and the boring questions the tourists were asking. He thought back to when he had read the letter. Wyatt had been very generous in letting him read it. Murray had been amazed at the condition it was in-how on earth had it survived ninety years at the bottom of the ocean? Wyatt had laughed when Murray asked him this. "Would you believe it was in his safe? Quite a laugh when you think about the way they were searching for the heart of the ocean in Caledon Hockley's safe in the movie Titanic isn't it?" And then Murray had been left to read the letter from his second cousin, the letter his second cousin had wrote knowing he would soon be dead:
April 14, 1912.
Dear Uncle William,
So far the crossing seems to be going as planned. There are a few minor details I wish to correct when we get the chance, but never the less the Titanic appears to be everything we planned. The arrival in New York is bound to be a big one, as we've been heading along at full steam, and are having no problems. Uncle, let me say I think this ship is the grandest ever built, and I am very proud to have been the one to oversee its building. As we have been sailing I've been making notes not only of the things I wish to correct on the ship as such, but also about other things. For example yesterday I was in the Café Parisien with some of the ships younger passengers, and they mentioned that it would be nice to have the band play in there sometimes also. Another thing mentioned to me is that there should be some more nice plants in the Palm Court. Blast! Sorry about the messy writing just then, there was a terrible shudder, and noise. It could be a propeller blade. I shall go and check though before I finish this off and retire for the night.
Uncle, I can't believe this. In an hour or so this ship is going to be at the bottom of the ocean, and me with it. I suppose I knew it wasn't a propeller blade when I wrote that last sentence, but I had to check.
We hit an iceberg. The lookouts didn't see the berg until it was too late, and then we couldn't turn in time to avoid it. The ship scraped along the berg, and punched holes in her side. When they told me how far the water had risen I knew that was it. I felt sick as I informed the captain that the Titanic would sink. Ismay, of course, was in denial, claiming that the ship couldn't sink. But I assured him that the unsinkable ship, could, and would sink. There's simply no way that this ship can stay afloat when so many compartments had breached. They hurried off to make sure that the crew got the lifeboats out, and make sure everyone is wearing a lifebelt. The lifeboats which won't even carry everyone on board. There would have been room for the second row inside the first, but no, I had to be overruled about it. And I had to bow to pressure in deciding that the deck would look too cluttered, and besides, who would ever have thought the Titanic would sink? I suppose, as I sit here writing this, on an uneven table as the ship is going down further and further, that this is my fault to some degree. Not just the lifeboat issue, but others. I thought it was a strong and safe ship, and I was wrong. Now many people are going to die, and I deserve to die also. I can hear noise everywhere-the passengers are scared and don't know what to do. In a moment I am going to put this in the safe and hope someday, somehow, you'll get to read this, and then I am going to go and see whether there are any people I can help. After all I owe at least this much don't I?
Yours fondly,
Your ever loving nephew,
Thomas Andrews.
When Murray had finished reading the letter he had felt a chill up his spine. Even thought he'd only recently found out about Thomas Andrews being his second cousin he still felt sorry for the man. How would it have felt to know that you and many others were going to die, on the very ship you had built? And even though after the sinking he had been cleared of blame it didn't help him then, did it? Murray had gone back to his hotel and called his wife to tell her about the letter, and how strange it made him feel. "Interesting." She'd said coldly. "Are you coming home now then?" Murray had frowned at his wife's apparent indifference. "No, I'm actually going to take a tourboat out to the site of the wreck first." He had told her. "Go to the wreck?" She'd cried. "Are you barmy? What point does that honestly serve?" "I don't know," He'd admitted. "I just feel like it's something I had to do..try and understand Mary." He'd actually begged her then. "Understand?" She'd repeated, her voice cracking up. "I understand that your family is here, and they need you, but you've spent the last week over in America chasing a ghost! And even before you went you weren't really here. Ever since your mum told you all this you've been obsessed." "Obsessed?" Murray had laughed. "Come on Mary, don't you think that's a bit of an exaggeration?" Mary had snapped "No, I don't think it is. Come home when you've laid the ghost to rest Murray, since there is no way you're going to come before you do so." And then she had hung up on him. And ever since then she'd refused to take his calls.
"Now ladies and gentlemen, if you don't mind I think we better head back before you all freeze!" The tour guide said, and the boat started up again. As it left the site Murray sighed again, and said a mental goodbye to the relative he'd never even known, and then went inside to get a warm cup of tea.
With his hands wrapped firmly around his warm cup of tea Murray contemplated the journey. He didn't know why he had felt like he had to go, and he probably never would, but he did feel as though something was closed. A piece of the family history perhaps? Reading the letter from Thomas Andrews, who had been wracked with guilt and seeing the spot where he had died along with so many others had put a few things in perspective. Like, for example, the fact that he was still alive, and had a life to live, and a family to spend time with. Before he arrived home from the airport he was going to have to pick up a huge bunch of roses for Mary to apologize for being such a fool about the whole thing. At least now, he knew who Thomas Andrews was, and his mind was clear.