If it wasn't apparent that the Titanic was sinking before, it was now. The top half was slowly rising as the bottom half was being weighed down with water. Everyone had a life jacket, but the last lifeboat had just left. People were running to the opposite end of the water, trying to stay dry for as long as possible to prevent hypothermia. A small band of musicians were playing to try to bring ease, having already accepted the fact that they were going to die and only wished to bring any sort of comfort with their art. A priest was praying over the souls that would be delivered into God's hands tonight. Mothers were soothing their children with tears in their eyes and on their cheeks. The lights flickered, but a brave crew was actively keeping the power on for as long as possible, even if it meant they would die. People were falling into the cold water, pushed over the edge or have slipped. There was a small group of people staying at the water's edge so the rafts could be tested to see if they floated.

There were still some makeshift rafts left that could hold some people. Ten lives or so could be saved. Stanley was tightly securing a piece of wood to the raft so it would float, the water up to his ankles. It was freezing his feet already and he shivered at the idea of being completely soaked in the below-freezing water. Hephzibah used her golden harmonica to whistle people towards her and she managed to get a third-class man, his wife, and their two children on a raft. She and Fiddleford helped them on and they floated on the water, soon drifting away from the Titanic. Two men and a woman took another raft and the men used pieces of wood they had torn off the Titanicas ores to row away from the disaster that would soon strike.

Loud moaning of metal rang out and the second of the four funnels fell into the water. It fell on floating people, crushing them, and screams echoed into the night air as they were splashed and the Titanic continued to sink rapidly.

"We have to get on this raft NOW!" Stanley yelled over the screaming and hoisted on, everyone slowly moving away from the water so they were only an inch or so deep into the cold water.

Fiddleford hopped on and they pulled Hephzibah onto the raft. Stanford joined them and Stanley raised a booted foot to attempt to kick them away from the edge of the water, but the sudden absence of power kept him from doing any sudden movement in case it would make him fall into the water. They were submerged in darkness before they would be submerged into the ocean. It wasn't long until the splitting of wood could be heard. Stanford held Hephzibah close and Stanley stood as strong as he could; Fiddleford held the wood with pale knuckles, on his hands and knees, all hands on deck.

The Titanic was splitting in half. People were falling into the giant crack, dying. Hephzibah's ears caught something and she looked up to find a young boy all by himself, holding onto the side of the boat, but about to fall into the crack. He was on their side of the boat, the front of the Titanic, and there was just enough dry land that if Hephzibah was quick… She wiggled herself free from Stanford's grasp and ran off the raft.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" Stanford yelled, but Hephzibah ignored her fiancé's call.

Hephzibah splashed in the water, which was now up to her breasts, and her body screamed in agony. She ran clumsily up the boat and to the dry wood, a hard task as their side was slowly sinking. Hephzibah reached the boy, who was holding onto the rail, and took him into her arms. Her three friends watched helplessly as she started to run back the way she came, but the water was creeping up to them slowly. They were trapped, but Hephzibah wasn't having it. She saw a boat a ways off that could still help people if they wanted to. Hephzibah pulled out her harmonica again, blew loudly into it, and waved her arm when she wasn't blowing to signal the people on the lifeboat. She saw some people waving back, and so she pocketed her harmonica and looked at the boy. He had short brown hair that was hidden under a grown man's bowler hat and he trembled in the woman's hold.

"Can ya swim well, sweetheart?" Hephzibah asked the boy in the softest voice she could muster.

He nodded.

"Ya see that boat?" Hephzibah asked and pointed to it.

The boy nodded again.

"I'm gonna toss ya as far as I can, but ya gotta swim to 'em. Can ya do that?"

The boy held her tighter. The ship was sinking faster. The water was to Hephzibah's ankles.

She chuckled, kissed the boy's cheek, and said, "I know, I know, love, but ya gotta try. Alrighty? Can ya swim for me?"

The boy gave one last nod and loosened his grip.

"Good lad. Ya can do it."

Hephzibah took in a deep breath, hoisted the boy up like a sack of wheat, and threw him as far as he could to the lifeboat. He fell with a splash and Hephzibah prayed that she hadn't just sentenced the boy to death, but soon he popped out of the water thanks to his life-vest and he swam to the boat. The lifeboat was rowing towards him, and Hephzibah got to see the boy reach it just as the water reached her hips. Hephzibah grinned happily and she knew that the child would live.

"HEPHZIBAH!"

Hephzibah turned to see three frightened faces, but before she could move towards them, the last two funnels fell, one rolling on one half of the ship, the other falling on the other half. All the men saw was Hephzibah shielding herself with her arms and the funnel falling on her, creating waves that pushed the little raft away.

"NO!"

"HOLD ON, FORD!"

The three men held on for dear life to the makeshift raft. It floated well, but because it was level there was nothing to keep the water from splashing up and soaking them. Still, they were floating. They looked up in horror, their ears flooded with screaming, as the two funnels disappeared into the ocean. Now the raft was floating to the side of what remained of the Titanic, having a front seat of the tragedy.

The first half of the ship was gone quickly. The second half, the back, slowly stood up on its end the tail up in the starry sky, as it sunk. People were crowding around the edge of the boat, trying to stay dry for as long as possible. Some were falling like rocks into the sea while others toppled on the boat, breaking necks and ribs. Some were granted a quick death, others not so lucky. The waves created by the sinking ship threatened to drown floating men and women. The ship was actually crushing some passengers and killing them with her weight alone. There was the loud moaning of the Titanic sinking deeper into the ocean, mixing with the blood-curdling screams of the humans sentenced to death for getting on the unsinkable ship. It slowly disappeared, until it was gone and replaced with large bubbles, and then there was nothing but screaming people, over one-thousand people dying right in front of Stanley, Stanford, and Fiddleford's eyes.

The Titanic sank, according to Stanford's watch, at 2:20 in the morning of April 15th.

Nobody said a word on that raft. There would have been four on that raft, but there were only three. They were all partially wet, mostly their feet, legs, and front, but their backs, faces, and hands were dry. They shivered, not only from the cold, but from the traumatizing fear that coursed through their veins. Stanley's jaw was hanging like an executed criminal. Fiddleford was on the verge of a panic attack, breathing heavy and trembling; he turned and vomited into the ocean when acid got caught in his throat and made him gag. Stanford bit his lip, swallowed, and kept his ground, on his hands and knees, his polydactyl hands holding the edge of the raft tightly.

It started out as a breath. "Hephzibah… Hephzibah…" Then a whisper. "Hephzibah… Hephzibah." Then a desperate call. "Hephzibah! Hephzibah! Hephzibah!"

"Ford, I'm so sorry…"

"HEPHZIBAH!" Stanford stood and screamed, cupping his hands by his mouth to amplify his sound. "HEPHZIBAH!"

"There's no way…"

"Stop it!" Stanford demanded, cutting Stanley off. "What if she's still out there and needs us?! HEPHZIBAH!" Stanford took a step closer, but Stanley grabbed him from behind and around his chest, pinning his arms by his side.

"NO! Stanford, getta hold of yourself!"

"LET GO! I HAVE TO…"

"NO!" Stanley wrestled with his twin on the raft, making it sway, and he stood strong and tall, keeping Stanford from jumping into the ocean. "You can't do that! You'll die! It's too late! She's gone!"

"HEPHZIBAH! HEPHZIBAH!" Stanford screamed until his throat was sore, but even then he kept screaming, joining the choir of people screaming in pain in the sea. "HEPHZIBAH! HEPHZIBAH!"

Stanley let his brother scream. He held him tighter, not just to restrain him, but to hug him and try to help in any way he could. Stanford slowly stopped trying to break free from Stanley's hold, and he shut his eyes closed to keep the tears at bay.

"Hephzibah… Hephzibah… my poor Hephzibah…" Stanley loosened his grip and Stanford fell to his knees. He rested his elbows on the edge of the raft and held his head in his hands. He gritted his teeth, but still, somehow, tears leaked out of his eyes and rolled down his cheeks.

Stanley rubbed his back and also found his eyes stinging, and not from the salt water. "I'm really sorry, Ford." He croaked like an old bullfrog. "She was… amazing. Just amazing."

"...rd…"

"She really did live each day… like it was her last." Stanley choked, cleared his throat, and was done for now.

"She… she saved that little guy." Fiddleford awed, sitting on the raft and hugging his knees. "She saved all of us…"

Stanford swore he heard it again. He opened his eyes and strained his ears to listen.

"...ford… Stanford…"

"SHH!"

Fiddleford bit his tongue. Stanford lifted his head out of his hands and looked ahead, where the Titanic used to be. He saw someone splashing in the water and peered ahead, it being difficult to see in the dark night, but he had to try.

"Stanford! Stanford!"

The light-skinned man gasped when he recognized who was swimming towards their raft. "HEPHZIBAH!"

"SWEET LORD!"

"HONEY FOGELIN', SALT-LICKIN' SKULLDUGGERY!"

Hephzibah laughed weakly between her sharp breathes, soaked to the bone and swimming as fast as she could.

"We thought that funnel crushed you!" Stanley explained as he got on his knees, a little behind Stanford, who had his hands outstretched for her.

"I-I-I-It m-m-missed m-m-me." Hephzibah stuttered as she swam closer.

She clapped her hand against Stanford's and held on for dear life. Stanford started to pull her on, but the added weight on one side of the raft was tilting the whole thing.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Stanley yelled and jumped to his feet. "Fidds, get to the other side!"

Fiddleford scrambled to the back corner of the small raft and Stanley stood with one foot at the back and the other at the heart of the raft. Stanford grabbed both of Hephzibah's hands and tugged. Like a polar bear sliding up from the ice, Hephzibah slid up on her belly on the raft and laughed, relief swamping her, but it was soon halted when water was creeping up on the raft, it sinking due to the weight. The raft may be big enough in feet to hold another person, but the weight would make water creep up on the makeshift vessel. Hephzibah pushed herself back into the freezing water and waded.

Stanford held her hands tightly. "What are you doing?!"

"Y-Y-Ya'll'll f-f-freez-ze if I g-get on-n-n." Hephzibah shivered and rubbed Stanford's cold hands. "I'll b-be f-f-fine."

"Don't be stupid." Stanley said sharply, like a father scolding his child for her ignorance.

"One more try, one more try." Stanford begged. "It's just a little water, it will seep back soon. Come on, one, two, three!"

Hephzibah took in a deep breath and Stanford pulled her up. Hephzibah slid on her front once more to get up on the wooden raft and water seeped in from the weight, but they kept on going. Water poured from Hephzibah's clothes and dreadlocks up on the raft and she lay on her back to breathe easier. Her breath was visible in the night air, as well as the men's and she weakly looked up at the sky. The water, as Stanford said it would, was slowly going back into the sea, leaving the four humans wet and cold, but alive.

Stanford sat cross-legged and had Hephzibah lay her head in his lap. He smiled proudly down at her and kissed her forehead. Her skin was still a little warm. Good. "You were amazing, Hephzibah, just amazing! You saved our lives! All those people you helped to make rafts for, they'll all live thanks to you!"

"Y-Y-Y'all b-built 'em." Hephzibah chuckled weakly.

Stanley sat next to them and held his knees to try to get warm. Fiddleford gave a small smile and patted his back. Screams and moans still echoed in the Arctic air. It was more than unsettling. It was haunting. Hephzibah averted her eyes from Stanford's and they were misty at the sight of the stars.

"Look-k-k." She said quietly.

The men looked up at the star-filled sky. They awed woefully at how many shooting stars they saw.

"Grandp-p-pa used t-t-to s-say… wh-when a ch-ch-child d-dies… a s-s-st-star's b-born…"

"Ma used to say God sends a shooting stars when anyone dies." Stanley shared quietly. "It means heaven's got a new angel."

"My Great-Grandpapi used t'say shootin' stars were angels flickin' their cigarettes before God could catch 'em smokin'." Fiddleford added.

Everyone chuckled at the joke, but their hearts weren't into it right now. Hephzibah sighed deeply, plagued by the yells of people that needed help, and she could do nothing for them.

"I should've d-done m-m-more." Hephzibah said to herself, hardly a whisper, just barely breathing her words.

Stanford, however, caught these cursed words and looked down at her. He petted her dreadlocks and said, "No, Hephzibah. There wasn't anything more you could have done. You were amazing. You could have left for the Carpathia and probably be in a warm bed by now, but you didn't. You stayed and saved our lives, you saved so many lives tonight."

"All those p-p-people…"

"I know, I know." Stanford soothed. "We will always wonder if there was something more we could have done, but we can't live like that. We did all we could. All we can do now is hope that help will come and we can board the Carpathia."

Stanley looked up at the starry sky. He was good with stars and could tell which way was north and which way was south by the stars alone. He pointed a direction and said, "That way is south. I have no clue where the Carpathia is, but our best bet to finding it, or any help coming from the Carpathia, is south of the Titanic."

Fiddleford looked around for any fallen debris. He saw a plank of wood that was floating, grabbed it, broke it in two, and gave one half to Stanley. "Let's get our bodies movin', then."

All of them were wet, but compared to Hephzibah, the men were damp. Her life was still in danger, so Stanford held her head and shoulders close. She turned on her right side, her front facing his chest, and she curled her legs and arms inward, like a bunny about to go to sleep. "I l-l-love y-y-you, Stanford."

Stanford rubbed Hephzibah's exposed shoulder. Her voice was weak. It scared Stanford more than drowning in the middle of the ocean. "I love you, too, Hephzibah."

"W-W-Winnin' that ticket… was the best th-thang… that ever happened t'me."

"It nearly k-killed you."

"I m-m-met ya cuz o'that."

Stanford started to notice the darkness that clouded the skin around Hephzibah's eyes and her lips. Her dark skin was growing paler. Stanford swallowed to try to keep his throat from tightening. "Don't. D-Don't even try to say goodbye. There's no need for that."

"It's gettin'... qu-qu-quiet…"

"I know, but help is c-coming. The lifeboats will be c-coming back, the C-Carpathia is c-close, and we're on our way t-to it."

"I'm… c-c-cold…"

"I know, I'm s-sorry." Stanford bit his lip, his emotions flooding him worse than the seawater had done to their ship, and he continued to rub Hephzibah and try to warm her up. "I'm so, so s-sorry, Hephzibah, just stay with me…"

"...m'tired…"

"No!" Stanford yelled, scaring not only Hephzibah, but Stanley and Fiddleford, too. They paused their rowing, their hands numbing, and they put their wood down to rub their hands together and attempt to warm them up. Hephzibah had jumped in Stanford's lap, but he apologized by kissing her left cheek and rubbing her left shoulder and arm in a futile attempt to warm her, despite being excruciatingly cold himself, his legs soaked with her body and most of his body damped from the journey, his teeth chattering. "No, d-don't you d-dare close your eyes. D-Don't go to s-sleep. S-Stay with me. Look at me, okay? Just look at me."

Hephzibah smiled as weak as a kitten. She shakily lifted a hand upward to Stanford, her limb trembling so much it was a miracle she could even move it. Stanford gently grabbed her hand, kissed it, and helped her cup his cheek, guessing that was what she wanted all along. He knew he guessed right when her thumb grazed his skin and her fingertips grazed his sideburn.

"Tell me… 'bout… our b-b-b-boat." Hephzibah requested, her voice a little higher than normal and extremely weak. "N' how we're… g-g-gonna g-g-get it."

Stanford smiled teary, but was determined to be strong for her. "When we get to America, we're g-going to get jobs and work hard. Stanley and I can haul boxes or work at a factory or d-do whatever will pay. You will, too. We're going to work together to get the materials we need to b-build our boat. We won't buy a boat, we'll b-build one, and it will be our home."

"Tell me… 'bout the b-b-boat." Hephzibah stuttered. Her thumb was still and her hand was only up by Stanford's cheek because he was holding it there. "What'll l-l-l-look l-l-like…"

Stanford lowered her hand, but held it and rubbed it to try to keep it warm. Her skin was cold. "It'll have three b-bedrooms b-below deck. One room for us, one for Stan, and one for our children. It'll have one b-big room for a sitting room, a dining room, and a kitchen. We'll have a wood-burning stove to cook and warm our home, a little tub for w-washing dishes, just enough cupboards for storage. I'll even b-build you an oven."

"I c-c-c-can't c-c-cook." Hephzibah admitted with a voice that shook like leaves in the fall winds. "I b-b-burn everythang."

Stanford chuckled a little. "Than I'll c-cook, you'll c-clean, and we'll have Stan watch over the children."

"Hey, why do I get saddled with babysitting if you two are the parents?" Stanley joked, the conversation too sad for his liking.

"It's one of your d-duties as godfather, Knucklehead."

Stanley was about to chuckle over Stanford's use of the word "duty" like a five-year-old, but his attention was elsewhere. "You'd make me their godfather?"

"Who else would we trust to raise our children if s-something happened to us?" Stanford asked, but then looked back down at Hephzibah, who was smiling with sparkling eyes. "B-B-But that won't happen. We're going to w-watch them grow up. We'll school them on that b-b-boat, show them the world, and make d-discoveries and travel until we're cranky old people who w-want nothing more than a cabin and some rocking chairs by a fire. We're both going to d-die in our own b-bed with gray hair and w-wrinkles on our skin. N-Not like this. N-Not now."

"O… kay… o… kay." Hephzibah breathed. "I l-l-love you, S-Stanf-f-ford."

"I love you, too, Hephzibah." Stanford replied, kissed her hand again, and went on telling Hephzibah of how it was going to be. "W-We'll get married as soon as w-we can. I'll w-work as hard as I c-can to get you a ring as nice as you d-d-deserve. It will shine like the sun, b-b-but even then it won't be enough for all you deserve. N-Nothing on Earth c-could. W-We'll get married, and wh-when w-we're ready, w-we'll have our own children. We'll raise them on that boat, teach them how to f-f-fish, to read, to w-write, to d-d-dance, to s-sell like a conman, and anything else w-we w-want to pass d-d-down to them. W-We'll create a w-world wh-where they w-will always be free, and if they're anything like their m-mother, they'll be the m-most amazing p-people to ever grace the p-planet."