Hey all! Sorry for the wait, I've been job searching for a whole month now and not getting anywhere, so I've been busy focusing on that to be honest. But here we are - the next (and penultimate) chapter of this Titanic fic!
I won't blather on for most of what I want to say is in the note at the bottom, but just a quick warning that this chapter features the deaths of a few named Beasts characters, including a child. There is also the mention of hundreds of other unnamed people dying, but hopefully everyone knows what to expect by now.
This chapter is not beta-read so I'm sorry for any errors or untidiness - I'll admit that this chapter is probably not my best work but I tried very hard to do it justice anyway. As always, I'm thankful to James Cameron for his movie and for the original script that he wrote because that's been a HUGE help in writing this damn thing!
Music for this chapter from the Titanic soundtrack include "Nearer My God To Thee", "The Sinking", "A Building Panic" and "Death of Titanic". James Horner's music truly spoke for itself and his soundtrack for the film is tremendous.
Anyway, enjoy (er...sort of?)!
In the wireless room of the Titanic, Jack Phillips was still bent over the telegraph machine and attempting to send out distress signals when Harold Bride came staggering in, dressed in a lifebelt with another under his arm.
"The boat deck's awash," He informed him worriedly. "Come on, let's clear out - we've done our duty." But to his dismay, the other man ignored him completely and continued to listen to the headset for any trace of a reply. "Come on, or we're gonna be eating sand for breakfast-!"
"I'm not going!" Phillips interrupted, not even turning around to look at him.
It was strange, Bride reflected: he had joined the crew of the ship as an assistant to the other man, but in truth they had always felt like friends. Despite having only met in Belfast just before the ship was due to set sail for her maiden voyage, they had gotten along extremely well: they were both very young men, he himself being twenty-two and Phillips having celebrated his twenty-fifth birthday just one day after the ship had set sail - they had celebrated his birthday together with pastries brought from the first-class dining room, in fact. They had not known each other terribly long, it was true, and yet he felt he understood the unstated reason as to why the other man was continuing to diligently work even as the ship sank from beneath them.
After all, Phillips had been the one to tell the Californian to "shut up" that very evening, ignoring their warnings of ice less than an hour before they struck the iceberg - if he hadn't, perhaps the operators on the other ship would have stayed on the airwaves a bit longer, or perhaps if they had taken the warning seriously they could have avoided this altogether.
Bride quickly put the lifebelt over the other man's head. "You're mad," He muttered even as he tied the garment around him.
Yes, his friend was mad - but he still found himself touched by his diligence as he continued working, all the same.
The stairwell ended on A-deck, taking them to right outside the first-class smoke room; as Newt hurriedly pulled her inside, it struck Tina that this was the first time she'd ever been in the room - while it wasn't forbidden, as such, for women to enter such a place, it was highly unheard of and frowned upon. She didn't have long to look around, of course, for they were running as quickly as they could to the aft side of the room; here there was a revolving door that would - with some luck - take them to a final staircase so they could reach the boat deck and perhaps catch one of the final boats leaving. The room was completely empty but still pristine, having not been reached by the flooding just yet; the armchairs were still tucked around tables covered with brandy glasses and ashtrays, and a roaring fire was still burning in the extravagant fireplace - it was only then that Tina realised they were not the only people there.
Thomas Andrews was standing in front of the fireplace, staring intently at the large painting above the mantle and appearing deep in thought; he was not wearing his lifebelt, she noticed, and it was lying discarded on the table behind him.
"Wait, wait, wait," She quickly urged Newt, stopping and pulling him back; he frowned but let go of her hand, watching as she approached the lonely figure nearby. "Mister Andrews?"
His head turned slowly to her, as if lost in his own world; to her surprise, a tear was rolling down his cheek. "Oh, Tina…"
"Won't you even make a try for it?" Tina asked despairingly, gesturing to his abandoned lifejacket.
But Andrews merely looked at her sorrowfully, filled with regret and guilt as he took in the two young out of breath and soaked people in front of him. "I'm sorry that I didn't build you a stronger ship, young Tina."
There was an ominous creak that rang through the air, and Newt shifted uncomfortably as he stepped forwards to take her hand again. "It's going fast, Tina. We have to keep moving."
"Wait." Andrews picked up the lifebelt from the table and pressed it into her hands with a soft smile. "Good luck to you, Tina."
Tina looked down at the garment in her hands before leaning forwards and embracing him, tears in her eyes. "And to you, Mister Andrews."
The older man watched as she returned to her lover and they made for the revolving door; as she went through first, clutching the lifebelt in her hands tightly, Newt turned back and gave him a small nod. "Thank you, sir."
And with that Thomas Andrews found himself alone once more, left to ponder the failure of his own creation.
On the upper decks surrounding the grand staircase, many were milling and rushing about as they attempted to find lost loved ones and gather their bearings; a number of stewards and crew were there also, attempting to help them in whatever way possible. One such steward was holding several lifebelts in his arms, handing them out, when he noticed one of the more infamous members of the first-class coming down the steps dressed in a dinner jacket and smart tophat.
"Mister Guggenheim!" He called, rushing forwards to meet the older gentleman. "Mister Guggenheim, sir, these are for you-"
"No, thank you," Guggenheim interrupted with a shake of his head before gesturing to his valet behind him. "We are dressed in our best and are prepared to go down as gentlemen." As he made his way across the floor, he turned back and called across the noisy foyer. "But we would like a brandy!"
This man is either very brave or very foolish, the steward thought to himself as he rushed to do as asked, but then I suppose that the two do go rather hand in hand.
Chaos was breaking out across all sides of the boat deck, men shouting over each other as they attempted to fit collapsible lifeboats into davits and keep hundreds of passengers calm. Captain Smith found himself watching everything silently, his attention diverted only when he heard the sound of running water behind him; turning around, he saw that a large puddle was lapping up towards him, some straggling passengers running out of the way before it could reach them - the entire bow of the ship was now submerged.
"Capitaine?"
He turned back around at the sound of the voice, finding himself face to face with a young woman wrapped in her warmest clothes; she was gently bouncing a sleeping baby in her arms, though all of her focus was on him.
"Capitaine?" She prompted anxiously. "Where should I go? Please?"
Smith looked between her and the baby but said nothing, his entire heart now in his stomach and his voice gone - he couldn't bring himself to tell this young mother that in just half an hour or so, she and her precious child would be dead. The guilt weighed even more heavily in his mind as he slowly turned away and started to walk towards the enclosed wheelhouse, unable to escape the horrifying fact that the blood of half of the people on this ship was now on his hands - he could do nothing more now, none of them could, except wait for the end.
"Captain, sir!" He heard someone calling from behind him; a second later one of the ship's seamen appeared at his side, holding a lifebelt in hand and trying to offer it to him. "Sir, take this one!"
Smith only stared right through him, walking away without a word; the bridge was now flooding, the water up to his knees as he slogged inside and took a final look at it all. How could it have all gone so wrong under his command? Why had he not listened to the warnings from other ships? How could it be possible that all of this - the beautiful rooms, the incredible architecture, the luxury and grandeur of the most remarkable ship of its time - would soon be at the bottom of the ocean in less than an hour?
There was no one inside the wheelhouse itself when he entered, the crew having long abandoned it, and the water was not as high in here; Captain Smith closed the door behind him before looking around at all of the gleaming brass instruments that surrounded him and allowing it all to sink in. Alone and despondent, away from desperate crew and terrified passengers, he allowed himself to inwardly collapse.
As soon as the band finished their waltz, Wallace Hartley looked around him in slight dismay; people were now throwing deck chairs overboard, no doubt for people in the water to use to stay afloat, and - of course - no one was listening to the orchestra playing as their panic grew. He looked at the other members of his band with a grimace, lowering his violin. "Right, that's it then."
The others immediately lowered their instruments, the cellists standing to pick up their chairs; they all gave him a sincere shoulder or arm pat before they left, genuinely sad to part even with the chaos surrounding them.
"Goodbye, Wally. Good luck."
"Goodbye, Wally."
"So long, old chap."
As they left him, walking forward along the deck, Wallace Hartley took a deep breath before tucking his violin back under his chin; he took a moment to think about the loved ones he would never see again, of his parents in Lancashire who would have to live knowing they had outlived their son - and his fiancée, Maria, who he would now never have the chance to marry. Thinking of all of these things, he put his bow to the strings of his instrument and began to play the first notes of 'Nearer My God to Thee'.
Behind him, all of the members of the band stopped at the sound of the lonely melody, looking around at each other - and then, one by one, they turned back around and walked over to take their places once more without a word. As they joined in with their own instruments, the hymn began to fill out and the sound could be heard all over the ship on this still night even over the chaos and panic. It was a scene that many a survivor would come to tell the tale of, the Titanic musicians playing even as the ship took its final plunge, something that would pass into legend.
In the wheelhouse, Captain Smith rested his hand on the great wheel that had once steered the ship; behind him, water was spilling in underneath the gap in the door, puddling beneath his smart black shoes. Out of a window of the wheelhouse, he watched the flood on the bridge grow higher and higher - soon it would reach beyond the panes of the windows, and he too would be going down with the ship.
Inside of the ship, many passengers were screaming as they ran up the grand staircase in search of an exit; Guggenheim, who had only very recently announced his intentions to go down with the ship while dressed in his very best, watched the water creep towards him with wide terrified eyes. As people stumbled and staggered to get away, swimming when they got caught in the water, he mused that this wasn't quite the dignified and peaceful death he had imagined it being - but he was determined even so to go through with it.
Thomas Andrews stood like a statue in the first-class smoking room, leaning one arm against the top of the fireplace; he pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time - 2:12 am. Wordlessly, he tucked it back into his jacket before looking at the clock that sat on the mantle - without thinking, he slowly opened the face of the mantle clock and adjusted the hand so that it would show the correct time. Everything must be correct, he thought to himself as his glass of whiskey slid off of the mantle and onto the carpet, even now.
In a first-class cabin, two elderly figures lay side by side in bed together, fully clothed and holding hands like young lovers. When the water began to pour around them, swirling around the bed and rising fast, Ida Straus gave a small and shaky sigh; pulling her close, Isidor kissed her cheek and held her close. They had spent forty years together - and so they would die together.
A young Irish mother who not too long ago had promised her children that they would soon be loaded onto the lifeboats was now tucking her two young children into bed in their steerage cabin, down in the bowels of the ship. She pulled the covers up over them, making sure they were warm and cosy with their favourite toys, before lying down with them. "...And so they lived happily together for three hundred years in the land of Tír na nÓg," She told them softly, holding them close as the first sign of water began to flow underneath their doorway. "The land of eternal youth and beauty…"
In the parlour suite that had once been occupied by Achilles and his party, water swirled in from the private promenade deck; the paintings that Tina had so lovingly positioned about the rooms were now submerged in the water - Picasso transformed under the water's surface, Degas' colours ran, Monet's water lilies came to life. The brooch that Seraphina Picquery had wanted to go back for fell off the nightstand and into the flood below, never to be seen again for eighty-four years. The sketchbook that Newt had so lovingly drawn in for years - a collection of animal observations, portraits of exotic women, a loving sketch of the woman he adored - were locked away in a safe that soon disappeared underneath the tide.
The ship rumbled ominously as a wave travelled up the boat deck, the bridge house sinking into the water. On the port side, Collapsible-B was picked up by the water before it could be launched; several men were working frantically to try to detach it from the falls so that the ship wouldn't drag it under. Colonel Gracie handed Lightoller a pocket knife quickly, and the officer furiously began to saw at the ropes as the water swirled around their legs; the boat, still upside down, was soon swept off of the ship and men started to dive into the cold ocean water, swimming to stay with it.
In Collapsible-A, Achilles was still holding the little girl but seemed to have completely forgotten about her - perhaps in part because she was no longer wailing but instead silently crying fat tears. He watched as the water rose around the men as they worked, scrambling to get the ropes cut so that the ship wouldn't drag the collapsible under. Lally watched as Theseus sent her one final meaningful look before turning away in the opposite direction to search for his brother; with him gone, she found her eyes glued to the body of Tommy Ryan, who was now being washed away by the rising tide.
"Here," Achilles suddenly muttered, passing the child to her and standing up; she wondered if he was perhaps going to try to help the other men cut the rope, though she didn't keep her eyes on him as the child buried her face into her shoulder, and she was soon focusing entirely on trying to comfort the girl in her arms as she wept.
One of the gentlemen trying to help detach the lifeboat was Percival Graves; he had taken out his engraved pocket knife, a gift from the two girls he had always considered his own daughters though they were not related by blood, and was hurriedly scanning the crowds around him for any sign of Tina or her boy from steerage. His heart sank when he couldn't see her, despite his best efforts to remind himself that it was possible she was on the other side of the boat or towards the stern - or, with any luck, perhaps she had gotten on another lifeboat that had already been launched.
As the water crept towards them, the band finished playing the last notes of their song; once the final note faded away, they all lowered their instruments. They watched together for a moment as the water rushed up to meet them, the screams of passengers ringing in their ears along with their dying notes - their time was now at an end.
"Gentlemen," Wallace Hartley said, voice thick with emotion. "It has been a privilege playing with you tonight."
In the wheelhouse, Edward J. Smith stood steadfastly at the head of the ship, his hands on the wheel. As the captain, it was a well-known tradition that it was his duty to be the last person to leave the ship alive during a sinking - and if he was unable to evacuate the crew and passengers, then he should not choose to save himself even if he had the opportunity to do so. After forty-three years at sea, with twenty-seven of those in command of various ships, he wanted to be known as dedicated to his duty as captain if nothing else.
All of the windows burst suddenly, walls of water edged with shards thundering in and sweeping around him; he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply as he disappeared in the vortex of foam and ice, never to be seen again.
As the bow plunged suddenly, Collapsible-A found itself rocked by a large wave that partially swamped the boat, washing it along the deck. Over a hundred passengers were plunged into the freezing water, and all of a sudden the area around the boat became a frenzy of splashing, screaming people. As Achilles clambered up on the other side, hanging onto the rope they were still attached to, their lifeboat gave a dangerous lurch and was now partially submerged in the water; many of the women and children onboard screamed as the water hit them, struggling not to fall out. Lally quickly helped the little girl grab onto the side of the boat so that she wouldn't slip into the water, only to then fall back into the water herself; she gasped as the icy cold temperature penetrated her very bones, her body immediately screaming in agony even as she tried to swim and push on the boat to right its balance.
The great ship rumbled and groaned as the remaining passengers and crew fought their way uphill towards the stern, trying to stay out of the water. From the hatches on either side, many were jumping into the water rather than wait for the ship to go down completely, hitting the black surface and disappearing from view. On the port side of A-deck, towards the very back of the ship, Newt and Tina finally came running outside and found themselves in an extremely dense crowd. They pushed their way over to the rail in the hopes of seeing just how dire the ship's situation was; beside her, Newt's eyes widened and he exhaled harshly - he didn't need to say anything for she saw it too, her mouth suddenly dry.
Without hesitating, he took the lifebelt from her hands and threw it over her head, helping her to tie it when her fingers trembled. "Now what?" She asked, disorientated as people shouted and pushed around them.
"We need to stay on the ship for as long as possible," He decided, taking her hand and starting to lead her aft. "The way we're going down, and given how cold that water is, we're better off going this way - this will hopefully be the last part of the ship to sink. Come on, let's go over the rail."
They wasted little time in making their way to the A-deck rail, pushing against the crowd with some difficulty; Newt climbed over first but didn't jump down, instead turning to help her clamber over the rail - with all of his strength and holding onto one of her hands, he helped her jump onto the deck below before jumping after her. Behind them, a few others started to follow their lead and hopped down, and he quickly moved Tina away before one of them could land on her. They soon found themselves joining the crush of people literally clawing and scrambling over each other to get to the narrow stairs that led to the well deck - the only way aft now which, by the looks of things, were impossible to get to.
"Come on, over the rail again," Tina murmured before he could say anything, and he let her go first this time; nearly tripping over the skirt of her dress and her boots, she edged her way over the railing and onto the raised base of some kind of platform. She looked down, hoping that there would be somewhere to jump down that would be safe and not result in anyone getting hurt, but realised with an unpleasant jerk that there were simply too many people clambering desperately below.
Newt didn't seem to have nearly as much concern for the others underneath them. "You jump first again," He told her, taking her hand and nodding to the deck below. "I've got you, don't worry."
Hoping that she at least didn't land on a poor child, she took a deep breath and did as asked; the jump was higher this time, and she found herself landing rather ungracefully in a heap of tall limbs and flimsy dress fabric as her hand slipped from his. As she groaned in discomfort, she felt a pair of clammy hands start to pull her up. "I've got you, miss!" A male voice informed her as he hauled her to her feet, and she realised it was one of the bakers.
Newt dropped down quickly, immediately reaching for her. "Tina-"
"I'm fine, let's just keep moving." She sent a thankful look to the stranger as all three of them started to push their way across the well deck. "Thank you, Mister…?"
"Hmm? Oh, Joughin," Charles Joughin muttered, three sheets to the wind and hoping he'd have another moment to drink more from his flask before the ship went down completely - he wanted to be so drunk that he wouldn't understand a thing when he died.
Near them, people were pushing their ways to either side of the ship; to Tina's horror, some were jumping down into the black glass of the water below, uncaring of where they landed or of the cold - or perhaps they thought it better to die swiftly than prolong it further. She couldn't bring herself to blame them quite frankly; the ship groaned and shuddered horrendously beneath them, like a great dying beast fighting to the very bitter end to stay alive, a sound that she was sure would haunt her nightmares if she survived.
The closer to the very stern of the ship that they got, the more that it crowded with desperate souls trying to do whatever it took to stay alive; many were shrieking and sobbing hysterically as the lights flickered but did not go out, gripping onto whatever they could find as the ship slanted more and more by the second. As they reached some steps, Newt put Tina in front of him and managed to indelicately shoulder someone aside so that they could climb up; if it had been only him then he wouldn't have bothered, he thought mirthlessly to himself, but it wasn't only him - there was simply no other option than doing whatever it took to keep Tina safe now.
To his dismay, it was slow going up the steps; the man just ahead was walking like a zombie, he realised in disbelief, as if in some kind of trance as he recited a psalm to himself. "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death-"
"Hey, you wanna walk a little faster through that valley there, pal?" Tina interrupted, gritting her teeth as she gave him a nudge forwards; Newt had to try not to smile at the fact that in her frustration, her accent had slipped from a trans-Atlantic one that was generally considered more upper-class and into a more recognisable New York one.
His humour didn't last long in the slightest, of course, but it had been a brief second of reprieve nonetheless.
The scene around Collapsible-A had turned chaotic; Achilles had taken an oar and was now attempting to push people back into the water as they tried to climb into the boat, not caring who he hit or how hard - the only thing on his mind was his own survival. "Get back! Back!"
Some of the women who had been loaded into the boat had managed to clamber back on as soon as it had been put back the right way and the ropes were cut, shivering in their wet clothes and not daring to move to help others in case they were pulled down. Lally had managed to get the crying little girl back on, thankfully, but she was now having trouble hoisting herself up out of the waves; her soaked skirts were dragging her down even with her life-jacket to keep her afloat, and with every second that passed she grew colder and colder, making her limbs feel too numb to move. To add, she didn't much fancy being smacked in the head by Achilles with his oar, and the buffoon was waving it about so erratically that there was no telling where it would go next. A quick glance around told her that the other collapsible nearby was not doing nearly as well; it was upturned in the water, and many were grabbing onto it desperately, failing to scramble up in their panic - no, she had a much better chance with this one.
Just as she thought about making another attempt to get into the boat, there was the sickening sound of something cracking; amongst the mass of swimming and screaming people, many were horrified as the stay cables along the top of the forward funnel snapped one by one, lashing like steel whips down into the water. Achilles watched, mystified in his fear, as the funnel toppled from its mounts and began to fall, metal groaning painfully; all sixty-three feet of it came crashing down like a temple pillar, as if in slow motion, and he had just about enough awareness to realise that it wasn't coming to towards him at least.
The funnel hit the water with a tremendous splash, sending freezing cold spray up around it and those who had been swimming in its vicinity to their graves. The waves created from the force of it were so huge that it rocked both of the collapsible boats nearby dangerously. Lally quickly tried to haul herself up in the chaos that ensued, her entire body screaming in protest and her mind unable to think of anything but her lover and his brother, hoping to God that they were nowhere nearby, that they were safe-
"No!" She heard the voice of Achilles Tolliver snarl. "You'll swamp us!"
The last thing Eulalie Hicks remembered was the feel of something heavy connecting with her skull and then a sudden darkness.
Theseus panted as he tried to push his way up the deck, gripping onto the railings for support; the entire ship was at a tilt now, sinking headfirst into the water at a far more rapid pace than it had the last two hours - something told him that it wouldn't be long before it all gave way entirely.
The crowds of people were so dense that it was impossible to see anything, even given his advantage in height, and it certainly didn't help that people were shoving each other out of the way in attempts to save their own skins. Still, he craned his neck as best as he could for any sign of his brother's familiar curly hair, part of him hoping he didn't see it if it meant his brother was safe. He should have known not to leave Newt and Tina on their own, should have known that it would be impossible to find his younger brother again, but at the time he had thought that the couple needed a moment to say their goodbyes - that, and he had thought that Newt would come to the other side of the deck as soon as Tina's boat was gone. The only comfort he had was that at least Newt hadn't been with them when the officer had shot that gun: it could have been his brother instead of Tommy lying on the deck bleeding to death instead.
To his right, someone slipped and then went skidding downwards; it was like some kind of perverse slide, he thought, and he grimaced at the thought of going into that water. He could remember his father telling him and Newt that water as cold as what awaited below was like thousands of knives stabbing you all over your body, that it was impossible to think of anything but the pain, and he shuddered; he had very little faith that a rescue ship or another lifeboat would appear in time to save all of them before the ship sank completely. At the very least, he knew Lally would be safe from it now that she was on a lifeboat - Tina was no doubt too, he reasoned, given her status and gender, and he knew that his brother would take comfort in that fact.
He wanted to believe that Newt was on a boat too, but he knew the truth - he was logical and reasonable enough to know that the likelihood of the crew letting a scruffy man from steerage board a lifeboat was near impossible. A wave of regret washed over Theseus as he thought about the mistake he'd made in leaving his brother behind, in not insisting on staying with him: it had been his job to look after his brother, to make sure nothing could harm him, and he had failed. Their parents would be so disappointed in him, and he knew it.
"Newt?!" He called helplessly, carefully pushing his way past a crying woman clutching her baby. "NEWT!"
There was no reply - he wasn't expecting there to be.
Inside the ship and at the grand staircase, many were struggling to swim as water shattered the windows and swept them away. Jack Phillips, the operator who had worked so tirelessly and for so long to try to contact a ship to save them, clutched onto one of the cherub statues at the foot of the staircase, crying out as the freezing cold rushed about him. Some were trying to climb the staircase in a last attempt to escape, slipping and staggering against the torrent of the flood in the hopes of not being swept away completely.
As the water roared through the doors and windows, cascading down the stairs like a rapids, John Jacob Astor was nearly swept down the marble steps to the flooding below, only just managing to grip onto a bannister to steady himself. He looked around the once beautiful foyer, at the magnificent staircase that he and his young wife had climbed up and down for various meals, and his heart sank even lower; she was on a lifeboat, of that he was certain, and she and their unborn child would be safe - but he would not, and he would never see either of them again.
Below, the roiling vortex of the flood was trapping those who had not been able to reach the stairs, their heads slipping underneath the water and not resurfacing. Some were pushing people out of the way or even using them in an attempt to remain buoyant above the frigid torrent, their desperation to survive the only thing they could think about now.
Astor heard a creak and looked up just in time to see a section of the thirty foot glass dome overhead suddenly exploding inwards; a Niagara of seawater thundered down into the room and blasted through the first class opulence, drowning out the screams of everyone left behind.
Below decks, the flooding was horrific; walls and doors splintered like kindling, water roared down the corridors with pile-driver force, the once beautiful ship being destroyed rapidly.
At the top of one of the stairwells, Modesty watched as her brother attempted to shake the locked gate open, gripping onto his sleeve as the water rose above them. "Credence, HURRY!"
"It won't open!" He shouted desperately. "Someone, please, anyone! Help us! OPEN THE GATE!"
"Please!" Modesty screamed, dropping her doll into the water as she clung to her brother. "I don't want to die! PLEASE!"
Their cries were unanswered as the water boiled up around them, pushing their heads up towards the ceiling; Credence took one last look at his sister before pulling her into his arms and tucking her tightly against his chest. "Don't look, Modesty… just close your eyes… it'll all be over soon…"
Modesty Barebone was still sobbing as she clung to him and closed her eyes one final time; as the water submerged them and stole their last breaths, she thought about the things she would miss out on, the way her brother had taken care of her, and of the kind British man who had danced with her at a party and let her draw silly things in his sketchbook.
The ship was now at an extreme tilt, her entire bow submerged in water and hundreds of passengers struggling to climb upwards; as the bow went down, the stern had lifted up and now the giant bronze propellers had risen out of the water like gods of the deep. Those in the lifeboats nearby gaped at the sight of the magnificent ship, helplessly watching from afar and powerless to do anything that could help save their loved ones still onboard. People were soon jumping from the well deck, the poop deck and the gangway doors on the side of the ship; some hit the debris of the water, hurting or killing themselves immediately for they saw it as a more merciful death than waiting to freeze or drown, and the ocean was awash with swimming and dead bodies alike.
As the angle increased, Newt and Tina found themselves hand in hand as they struggled aft; nearby, hundreds of passengers were clinging to any and all fixed objects on deck in the hopes of not falling off, and a large group were huddled on their knees around a priest by the name of Father Byles, who was reciting a prayer in a loud but steady voice. Many were praying, sobbing or just staring at nothing, their minds blank with dread for what was to come. "Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death. Amen. Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is-"
"Come on, Tina, we can't expect God to do all the work for us," Newt murmured, using the railing to pull himself along; he tugged her with him further up the deck, grimacing at the sight in front of the praying people in front of them - he didn't know whether to be relieved or worried that he hadn't seen his brother among all of these passengers.
By the time they made it to the stern rail, grabbing on near the base of the flagpole and finding themselves jammed between other people, the propellers were now twenty feet above the water and rising faster; Tina was exhausted, giving a small groan as her feet slipped on the wood of the deck and her legs hurt in protest. Holding onto the stern with one hand, Newt quickly pulled her against him and held her cradled closely to his body, desperate to stop her from falling.
Above the sound of the wailing and sobbing, Father Byles' voice could be heard, cracking with emotion. "...and I saw a new heaven and a new earth when the first heaven and the first earth had passed away…and there was no more sea…"
The lights flickered briefly, threatening to go out before coming back on; Newt looked around as best as he could, absolutely terrified and secretly grateful that his lover was not looking at him and so was not able to see how truly frightened he really was - he was determined to not concern her, not worry her, but he wasn't sure how much longer he could pretend. Tina gripped onto him tightly, feeling dizzy as the stern rose higher and higher into a night sky ablaze with stars, instead looking at the people around them; to her right was a family, clinging stoically together and waiting for the end. To her left, a young mother was cradling her five year old son, who was crying in terror, and murmuring to him, "Shh… don't cry, darling. It'll be over soon… It'll all be over soon…"
" ...And he shall dwell with them and they shall be his people, and God himself shall be with them…"
Tina looked up at the flagpole and, with a jolt, realised something. "Newt…" She waited for him to look at her, a small and sad smile on her face. "This is where we first met."
It seemed hard to believe that just two nights ago he had pulled her back onto the ship, saving her before she fell to her death and changing both of their lives completely. Newt's eyes shone as he looked at her, and he couldn't speak - he knew if he did, he might lose control of his emotions completely; instead he pressed a fierce kiss to the top of her head, pulling her even closer so that his hold on her was securer and his chin rested on her hair. Just that very evening he had thought about how he wanted to marry her, how he would spend the rest of his life loving her - it was the truth, though he had thought that this meant years, not mere hours.
Tears were running down Father Byles' face as he finished his verse from the Book of Revelation, his voice carrying into the night. "...And God shall wipe away all the tears from their eyes, and there shall be no more death. Neither shall there be sorrow or crying. Neither shall there be anymore pain…for the former world has passed away."
Inside the ship, everything not bolted down shifted; cupboards burst open in the pantry, showering the floor with tons of china that would never be used. A piano slid across a floor, crashing into the wall; furniture tumbled across various rooms, creaking and groaning as they hit into each other. In the grand foyer that had once housed a beautiful staircase with an even more beautiful clock, a multitude of dead bodies were floating about in fine clothes, their skin eerily pale and ghostly beneath the water.
In the distance, the people in the lifeboats watched in horror as the great ship's stern lifted higher and higher, a sight no one could have ever dreamed of. Officers on the boats quickly ordered those manning the oars to row faster and harder, desperate to be nowhere near the ship when it took its last breath; women began to cry as they thought of their husbands, fathers, brothers and friends who were still onboard, knowing deep in their hearts that they would not see them again.
The sounds of sobbing and screaming echoed in the dark night around the ship. On the A-deck promenade, passengers were losing their grip and sliding down the wooden deck like it was a bobsled run, falling hundreds of feet before hitting the water. One of them was Charity, still in her maid's uniform and clinging onto a fellow passenger's hands; just as he urged her to hold on, her fingers slipped from his and she slid down the deck, wailing in terror the whole way.
At the stern, the propellers were now a hundred feet out of the water and still continuing to rise even further. Panicking people were climbing up over and leaping from the poop deck rail, screaming as they fell and hit the water like mortar rounds. Newt looked over his shoulder just in time to see one man who had fallen hitting the bronze hub of the starboard propeller with a sickening smack, and he quickly jerked his head away again as his breath shuttered out of him. The only saving grace was that Tina hadn't seen it, he thought; she was staring with wide eyes at a figure perched on the very top of the rail dressed in white, and after a second Newt realised it was the baker who had helped them earlier. The man reeked of whiskey and liqueur, and after a moment he reached into his jacket pocket for something; Newt didn't know whether to laugh or not when the man pulled out a hip flask, popped the cap open and took a large swig from it.
His minor amusement didn't last long for the ship gave a horrible jolt, and he found himself nearly slipping; Tina had thankfully taken hold of the railing even with his arm around her to keep her upright, and he quickly manoeuvred her so that she was able to cling to it with his body behind her so that she wouldn't fall. "Just hold on tightly!"
Her teeth chattered as she all but hugged the rail, hands in agony and every part of her body screaming in protest - there was no way in hell she was letting go of the only thing keeping her from an inevitable death.
On Lifeboat Six, Seraphina sat silently, her eyes glassy as they stared at the spectacle before her; the Titanic's stern was high in the air, angling up over forty-five degrees with the propellers one hundred and fifty feet out of the water. Her lights were blazing, reflecting in the still water, and even in the distance she could see that over a thousand passengers were clinging to the decks, looking like a swarm of bees. The image was too shocking, too unbelievable, too unthinkable, for even her to comprehend.
Tina. Percy. They have to have found a way off, they have to…
Some women on their lifeboat were sobbing; beside her, Molly Brown was wide eyed and had grown shockingly quiet. "God Almighty!"
Nearby in Collapsible-C, Bruce Ismay turned his back on the boat he had once proudly boasted about and closed his eyes - but he couldn't escape the guilt, not with the sounds of thousands of people simultaneously losing their lives echoing in the air and ringing in his ears. No matter how much remorse he felt, he knew it would never be enough.
In the engine room, Chief Engineer Bell was hanging onto a pipe at the master breaker panel; he and his team of men had been working all night and into the early hours of the morning to keep the power on in the hopes that the light might attract a nearby rescue ship. It was dark here, and men were climbing through tilted cyclopean machines with electric hand-torches; it was a hell of breaking pipes, spraying water, and groaning machinery that threatened to tear right out of its bedplates.
"Get those breakers in!" Bell yelled. "Keep them in!"
Water sprayed down, hitting the breaker panel - but he would not leave his post, not until his duty was fulfilled. There was a loud clunk, and the breakers kicked; he slammed them in again as quickly as he could-
With a dangerous crackle, the engine room was filled with a nightmarish bright light - and then there was darkness.
The lights went out all over the ship, and the RMS Titanic became a vast black silhouette against the stars.
Panicked screaming filled the air, and Tina looked blindly around - she couldn't see a thing, not even Newt's hand next to her own on the railing, and she gave a jerk. "Newt-"
"I'm here," He assured her quickly, his voice close to her ear, and she eased slightly. "Just hold on tight, alright? Do not let go."
The ship gave an ominous, terrible groan unlike anything they'd ever heard - and then a loud cracking report sounded around them, coming from near the middle of the ship. The passengers between the second and third funnels suddenly found themselves staring as the deck split apart right beneath their feet; among them was Abernathy, who was holding onto the railing for dear life. The cut on his head from his fight earlier that evening was oozing sluggishly, and he was starting to feel deeply unwell - but then the railing broke underneath his hands, and he quickly tried to shuffle back away from it. He watched in horror as a yawning chasm opened up, the ship ripping itself apart right in front of him, and was unable to do anything but gape down into the widening maw. He could see straight down into the bowels of the ship, and his stomach lurched when he realised that people were falling into the widening crevasse like tiny little dolls.
The stay cables on the funnel nearby parted and snapped across the decks like whips, ripping off davits and ventilators; one man was hit by a whipping cable and fell to his death below. Another cable smashed the rail next to Abernathy, ripping it free from his grasp; already disoriented and dizzy, he fell down into the pit of jagged metal below. FIres, explosions and sparks lit the yawning chasm as the hull split down through nine decks to the very keel, seawater pouring into the gaping wound.
The stern half of the ship, almost four hundred feet long, fell back towards the water; everyone screamed as they felt themselves plummeting, not able to see what was going on and clueless about what was happening. Those swimming directly below shrieked as they saw the keel coming down onto them like God's bootheel, thundering down so it was almost level and pushing out a mighty wave of displaced water. Newt and Tina both struggled to hold onto the stern rail, though they could feel that they were no longer as tilted as before and it seemed as though their part of the ship was righting itself.
Some people seemed to think it was salvation, that God had saved them; Tina's eyes had adjusted to the dark just enough to see Newt's face directly beside her, and she sent him a questioning look. He grimaced, shaking his head - she didn't have to wait long to know what he meant.
Pulled down by the weight of the flooded bow, the buoyant stern began to tilt upwards rapidly; in mere seconds they felt the rush of ascent as the fantail angled up again, and everyone quickly clung to benches, railing, ventilators, anything to keep themselves from sliding. In less than a minute, the stern had gone up past forty-five degrees, and then past sixty; people started to fall once more, sliding, tumbling, skidding down the deck whilst flailing to grab onto something to save themselves but only succeeding in pulling others loose so that they fell too - soon there was a pile-up of bodies below.
"We have to move," Newt told her quickly, realising that they didn't have very much time before it was too late; he quickly climbed up over the stern rail, using the flag pole for assistance, before reaching back for her. "Come on!"
But Tina was too terrified to do anything, clutching for dear life to the railing as her feet scrambled beneath her to find purchase on the deck. "I can't, I'm going to fall!"
"You won't!" He urged her desperately, reaching for her hand. "Give me your hand, I'll pull you over! I've got you, remember?"
She took a deep breath before quickly taking his hand; she groaned in exertion as she tried to hoist herself up, her legs dangling uselessly, but to his credit Newt was stronger than he looked. He held on tightly to her as he helped her over the railing, realising with some irony that just two nights earlier he had pulled her back onto the other side; within seconds he had slipped an arm underneath her shoulders and helped her find purchase, gripping her fiercely just as the railing went horizontal and the deck vertical.
The stern was now straight up in the air, a rumbling black monolith standing against the stars. For a moment it stayed there like that, its buoyancy stable. Tina looked down fifteen stories to the sea at the base of the stern section, her heart thudding in her chest; those who had not climbed over were now hanging, their legs dangling over the long drop before falling one by one, plummeting down the vertical face of the poop deck. She and Newt were practically lying side by side as they watched people bounce horribly off of deck benches before disappearing into the blackness below that waited to claim them all.
"What's happening, Newt?" She asked anxiously.
"I don't know," He mumbled, pushing himself up so that he could be ready for whatever came next. "I don't know! Just hold on!"
All they could hear was terrified cries and the thud of bodies hitting off of things; neither of them could see anymore than a metre or so in front of them, and it was horribly disorientating. Desperate to not look at the faces of people as they fell away, Tina looked over to her left and saw Baker Joughin crouched on the hull nearby, holding onto the railing. For one surreal moment, their eyes met and he gave her a small nod in greeting - almost as if it were any other night on the ship, as if everything wasn't sinking from beneath their very feet.
The stern gave a dreadful creaking moan as it flooded and began to drop; it was like a dying animal suffering in its final moments, calling for help that would never come. Tina gripped the railing beneath her, suddenly all too aware of the sound of the bubbling ocean below and how it was getting closer and closer in the blind darkness. "Oh God, Newt… Oh God!"
"Hold on!" He shouted, heart pounding in his ears as he took one of her hands in his; if his estimations were correct, they didn't have long now, and he quickly tried to remember everything his father had ever taught him about swimming. "Okay, Tina, the ship is going to suck us down; take a deep breath when I say and hold it right before we go into the water. Kick for the surface and keep kicking - do not let go of my hand."
Tina gave a nod, looking down blindly at the water below them; the poop deck was now disappearing, the boiling surface engulfing the docking bridge before rushing up the last thirty feet. She could hear people's screams being cut off as they were swallowed by the ocean, and she knew that they had mere seconds left before it was their turn.
"We're going to make it, Tina!" She heard Newt promise from beside her, giving her fingers a reassuring squeeze. "Trust me."
"I trust you," She promised, her voice sincere even as she gripped his hand even harder in fear.
She could see the bubbling surface of the water now, coming up to meet them swiftly. "Get ready!" Newt called, his entire body tense. "Ready... NOW!"
Tina took a deep gulp of breath and closed her eyes, holding onto her lover's hand for dear life as the icy water swallowed them.
At 2:20am on April 15th 1912, the RMS Titanic took her final relentless plunge and slipped beneath the black surface of the Atlantic Ocean, leaving no more than a pale, almost motionless vapour over the water.
This is the penultimate chapter, which means that the next chapter is the FINAL one. Get your tissues ready, folks, for it's going to be emotional as hell!
I honestly cannot believe that I've nearly finished this thing; I knew I wanted to desperately because of how much Titanic (both the movie and the ship) means to me, but it seemed impossible given my lack of time and how huge this story was going to be...and yet here we are. Nearly at the very end. It's been an incredible time writing this fic, and I'm actually sad to have nearly finished it. There's less than 30 minutes of the film and only about eighteen pages of the script (both of which have been the solid foundation of this fic) left now, but of course there'll be a few alterations and additions here and there. I think the ending I write might annoy or anger people, but hey, it was always going to be this way when I started writing the story so it is what it is!
Deleted scenes in this chapter included "I'm Not Going" and "Cartmell Family's Death". (Yes, Jim Cameron filmed the little girl and her family drowning but then cut it because he felt it was too upsetting in addition to all the other implied child deaths already in the film).
As always, your comments are greatly appreciated!