*Eighteen*

You'll Get Your Headlines, Mr. Ismay

Officer Murdoch searched the halls on his way to Thomas Andrews' stateroom. He pounded on the door.

Andrews had felt the bump, the shutter. He had stared at the chandelier. So it really wasn't a surprise when an officer had shown up.

"Yes, Mr. Murdoch?" He asked when he opened the door.

Murdoch was a bit out of breath, from the fright he had just witnessed, and from running throughout the interior of Titanic.

"We hit an iceberg, sir." Murdoch stated, trying to calm his voice. "Captain needs you to sound the ship, then meet with him, Sir."

Mr. Andrews nodded. A bit of fear gripping his heart. He turned to his work table, and gathered up all his deck plans. Then raced out of the door.

He passed the Countess of Rothes. She was being ill-informed about the ship's shutter. She was being told that it was a propeller blade. Mr. Andrews wanted to stop and tell her differently. But he knew he had to get to work assessing the ship.

He went to the mail-hold first. Water was already coming in. He stepped aside as one of the mailmen pressed past him, trying to save the mail. This was a mail ship, there was dozens of mail bags. And these men risked their lives trying to save it.

Andrews walked back upstairs. He headed straight to the Officer's quarters. Bruce Ismay followed him. Tying his robe at his side. He wore his house slippers, and his hair was a mess.

Mr. Andrews unrolled the deck plans, in front of himself and Captain Smith. Ismay stood directly behind them, looking over their shoulders. "It's most unfortunate, Captain."

Captain Smith only glared at him a moment, then turned back to the deck plans.

"Water… fifteen feet above the keel, in ten minutes." Mr. Andrews began relaying the damage to everyone in the room. Which was the Captain, Officers Lowe and Murdoch, and Bruce Ismay.

"In the forepeak. All four holds, and boiler room six. That's five compartments in only ten short minutes! 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. It's inevitable."

He showed the others what he was talking about by running his hand over the plans.

"What if we open the pumps?" The Captain asked pointing to the blueprints.

"The pumps buy you time…but minutes only." Andrews said with certainty. Then the awful realization hits him. "From this moment, no matter what we do. Titanic… will… founder." It was the hardest words he had ever had to say to anyone.

Captain Smith turned away as if in a daze. Murdoch and Lowe had the same shocked expression, though clearly they were handling it better than the captain. They hadn't realized the problem with the lifeboats just yet.

"Well, this ship can't sink." Ismay scoffed. He was frightened of course, but he figured he had invested his money well, and had really bought an unsinkable ship.

Mr. Andrews turned to him quickly. Anger in his eyes and voice. "She's made of iron, sir. I assure you, she can. And she will. It's a mathematical certainty."

This stuck Ismay hard. He felt guilty, angry, upset everything at once. Of course nothing could possibly feel like the pain that Smith and Andrews were feeling.

Lowe and Murdoch exchanged worried glances, then turned back to the captain as he spoke.

"How much time?" He asked, still in a daze.

Thomas Andrews looked back to his plans, calculating an accurate estimation. He nodded his head sadly. He looked back to the Captain. All emotions flashing in his eyes. "An hour. Two at the most."

Captain Smith's jaw dropped, this couldn't be happening, he thought to himself. "And how many onboard, Mr. Murdoch?"

"Two-thousand, two-hundred souls onboard, Sir." Murdoch solemnly replied.

The Captain's mind flashed back to a couple of days ago. The lunch he had had with Bruce Ismay.

~Flashback~

"I see you've not yet lit the last four boilers, then?" Ismay asked reading from a creased piece of paper.

"No, I don't see the need. We are making excellent time." Captain Smith said proudly.

"The press knows the size of Titanic. Now I want them to marvel at her speed. We must give them something new to print." He puffed away on his cigarette. "This maiden voyage must make headlines."

"I really would prefer not to push the engines until they've been properly run in." The Captain said wisely.

Ismay thought about it a moment. "Of course, I'm just a passenger. I leave it up to you and your great officers to decide what's best. But what a glorious end to your final crossing. If we were to get in on Tuesday night, and surprise them all. Make the morning papers. You know, retire with a bang. Eh, E.J.?"

At this Captain Smith was convinced. Shortly after that encounter with Ismay, did he order those last boilers lit.

Captain Smith turned to Ismay. Thoroughly disgusted. And feeling guilty, he never should have listened to him. And gone against everything he had known.

"Well, I believe you may get your headlines, Mr. Ismay." Captain said sternly. His cold eyes, let Ismay know he had been wrong. Ismay had thought back to that very same conversation.

The Captain departed the room. Leaving Mr. Andrews staring down at his deck plans. He had put all his heart and soul into making this ship. He truly thought she was grand, how could he have been so blind?

The two officers exchanged worried glances again, then left behind the Captain. Going back to the deck, where they surely would be needed.

Mr. Andrews stood, leaving his plans. He glared at Ismay a long moment, Hatred in that stare. Then he violently pushed past him.

Ismay stood in the middle of the empty room. "Right." He said to himself. A bit offended by their rude actions. Then it hit him. "My God, what have I done?"