Near the third funnel a man clutches the ship's rail. He stares down as the deck begins to split right between his feet. A yawning chasm opens with a loud thunder of breaking steel.
Lovejoy is clutching the railing on the roof of the Officers' Mess. He watches in horror as the ship's structure rips apart right in front of him. He gapes down into a widening maw, seeing straight down into the bowels of the ship, followed by a booming like the sound of artillery. People falling into the widening crevasse look like dolls. The stay cables on the funnel part and snap across the decks like whips, ripping off davits and ventilators. Another cable smashes the rail next to Lovejoy and it rips free. He falls backward into the pit of jagged metal. Fires, explosions and sparks light the yawning chasm as the hull splits down through nine decks to the keel. The sea pours into the gaping wound-
It is a thundering black hell. Men scream as monstrous machinery comes apart around them, steel frames twisting like taffy. Their torches illuminate the roaring, foaming demon of water as it races at the through the machines. Trying to climb they are soon overtaken in seconds.
The stern half of the ship, almost four hundred feet long, falls back toward the water. On the poop deck everyone screams as they feel themselves plummeting. Swimming in the water directly under the stern a few unfortunates shriek as they see the keel coming down on them like God's bootheel. The massive stern section falls back almost level, thundering down into the sea and pushing out a mighty wave of displaced water. Jack and Thomas struggle to hold onto the stern rail. They feel the ship seemingly right itself. Some of those praying think it is salvation.
"We're saved!" some people shout, while others began to rejoice. Jack looks at Thomas, who shakes his head, grimly. Now the horrible mechanics play out. Pulled down by the awesome weight of the flooded bow, the buoyant stern tilts up rapidly. They feel the rush of ascent as the stern angles up again. Everyone is clinging to benches, railings, ventilators... anything to keep from sliding as the stern lifts. The stern goes up and up, past 45 degrees, then past sixty. People start to fall, sliding and tumbling. They skid down the deck, screaming and flailing to grab onto something. They wrench other people loose and pull them down as well. There is a pile-up of bodies at the forward rail.
"We have to move!" Jack yelled, but Thomas was almost on the other side of the rail, and held his hand out to Jack once he was over. He takes ahold, then climbs over the stern rail.
"Come on! I've got you!" Thomas strains, praying, as he pulls Jack over the rail. It is the same place Jack pulled Thomas over the rail two nights earlier, going the other direction, and this time, it was Thomas who was doing the saving. Jack gets over just as the railing is going horizontal, and the deck vertical. Jack grips onto him fiercely.
The stern is now straight up in the air... a rumbling black monolith standing against the stars. It hangs there like that for a long grace note, its buoyancy stable. Both men lie on the railing, looking down fifteen stories to the boiling sea at the base of the stern section. People near them, who didn't climb over, hang from the railing, their legs dangling over the long drop. They fall one by one, plummeting down the vertical face of the poop deck. Some of them bounce horribly off deck benches and ventilators.
Jack and Thomas lie side by side on what was the vertical face of the hull, gripping the railing, which is now horizontal. Just beneath their feet are the gold letters TITANIC LIVERPOOL emblazoned across the stern. Thomas stares down terrified at the black ocean waiting below to claim them. Jack looks to his left and sees Baker Joughin, crouching on the hull, holding onto the railing. It is a surreal moment. The baker turns his head to the couple once more, and nods to them.
"Helluva night." he says.
The final relentless plunge begins as the stern section floods. Looking down a hundred feet to the water, the ship begins to drop like an elevator with Jack and Thomas.
"Well, here we go." Thomas says, bracing himself. Jack takes ahold of his hand.
"Take a deep breath and hold it right before we go into the water. The ship will suck us down. Kick for the surface and keep kicking. Don't let go of my hand. We're gonna make it Thomas. Trust me."
He stares at the water coming up at them, and grips his hand harder. Below them the poop deck is disappearing. The plunge gathers speed... the boiling surface engulfs the docking bridge and then rushes up the last thirty feet, where the stern descend into the boiling sea. The name TITANIC disappears, and the tiny figures of Jack and Thomas vanish under the water.
Where the ship stood, now there is nothing. Only the black ocean.
Bodies are whirled and spun, some limp as dolls, others struggling spasmodically, as the vortex sucks them down and tumbles them. Jack slowly rises, kicking hard for the surface... holding tightly to Thomas, pulling him up, until suddenly, they lose grip. Jack tries to follow, but Thomas was getting sucked by the ship's vortex, and he seemingly disappeared into the endless void.
At the surface there is a roiling chaos of screaming, thrashing people. Over a thousand people are now floating where the ship went down. Some are stunned, gasping for breath. Others are crying, praying, moaning, shouting... screaming.
Jack surfaces among them. He barely had time to gasp for air before people claws at him. People driven insane by the water, 4 degrees below freezing, a cold so intense it is indistinguishable form death by fire.
"Thomas! Thomas!" Jack yelled over the cries and shouts of the people. A man soon pushes Jack under, trying to climb on top of him... senselessly trying to get out of the water, to climb onto anything. Soon, out of nowhere, Thomas reappeared, as if by a miracle.
"Get off of him! Get off!" he punched the man repeatedly, then pulling Jack free.
"Swim, Jack! I need you to swim!" Thomas says.
He tries, but his strokes are not as effective as his because he never experienced staying in the cold water this long. They break out of the clot of people. Thomas has to find some kind of flotation, anything to get Jack out of the freezing water.
"Keep swimming. Keep moving. Come on, you can do it."
All about them there is a tremendous wailing, screaming and moaning... a chorus of tormented souls. And beyond that... nothing but black water stretching to the horizon. The sense of isolation and hopelessness is overwhelming.
Jack strokes rhythmically, the effort keeping him from freezing, as he watched the way Thomas effortlessly made his strokes.
"Look for something floating. Some debris... wood... anything." Thomas says, waiting on Jack, as he mopped his hair away from his face, then he began shivering himself.
"This is so cold." Jack complained.
"I know. I know. Help me. Here. Look around." Thomas says, putting a kind hand on Jack's shoulder. His words keep him focused, taking his mind off the wailing around them. Shivering, Jack scans the water, panting, barely able to draw a breath. For what seemed like a long time, Jack sees something floating off in the distance.
"What's that?" Jack asked. Thomas sees what he is pointing to, and they make for it together. It is a piece of wooden debris, intricately carved. Thomas pushes Jack up and he crawls onto it belly down.
"That's it. Climb on. I got you. I'm right behind you." But when it came time for Thomas to get up onto the thing, it tilts and submerges, almost dumping Jack off. It is clearly only big enough to support him. Thomas pushes his wet hair back once more, then clings to the debris, close to him, keeping his upper body out of the water as best he can. Their breath floats around them in a cloud as they pant from exertion, where they float amid a chorus of the damned. Jack slowly turns to where Thomas was looking, to see the ship's officer nearby, Chief Officer Wilde. He is blowing his whistle furiously, knowing the sound will carry over the water for miles.
"The boats will come back for us, Jack. Hold on just a little longer. They had to row away for the suction and now they'll be coming back." Thomas ran his hand along Jack's head, and pushing back his nearly frozen hair. Jack nods, his words helping and comforting him. He is shivering uncontrollably, his lips were blue and his teeth chattering.
"Thank God for you Thomas."
Around them people are still screaming, calling for the lifeboats to come back.
"Come back! Please! We know you can hear us. For God's sake!" a woman called from nearby, as Thomas turned his head.
"Please... help us. Save one life! SAVE ONE LIFE!" another called.
In Boat 6, Rose has her ears covered against the wailing in the darkness. The first class women in the boat sit, stunned, listening to the sounds of hundreds screaming.
"They'll pull us right down I tell ya!" Hitchens warned.
"Aw knock it off, yer scarin' me! Come on girls, grab your oars! Let's go!" Margaret begins to paddle, but nobody does a thing.
"Well, come on! What are you waitin' for?" The women won't meet her eyes. They huddle into their ermine wraps.
"I don't understand a one of you. What's the matter with you? It's your men out there! We got plenty a' room for more." she pleads.
"If you don't shut that hole in yer face, there'll be one less in this boat!" Hitchens threatened her, and Margaret sits back down in her seat. Rose keeps her ears covered and her eyes closed, shutting it all out. The remaining twenty boats, most half full, float in the darkness. None of them make a move.
Jack and Thomas lay adrift under the blazing stars. The water is glassy, with only the faintest undulating swell. Jack can actually see the stars reflecting on the black mirror of the sea, then he begins to squeeze whatever water out of Thomas' long coat the best he could, despite half of his body still in the water. He rubs his arms through the thick layer of his coat. Thomas' face is chalk with in the darkness. A low moaning in the darkness around them.
"It's getting quiet." Jack says. Thomas is unmoving, his eyes were closed. Behind Thomas he sees that Officer Wilde has stopped moving. He is slumped in his lifejacket, looking almost asleep. He has died of exposure already. Jack had hoped Thomas didn't meet that similar fate.
"I don't know about you, but I intend to write a strongly worded letter to the White Star Line about all this." Jack says, laughing weakly, but it sounds like a gasp of fear. Jack finally finds his eyes in the dim light.
"There's something I've always wanted to tell you, Thomas-I love you..." Jack took ahold of Thomas' cold hands. His eyes slowly opens.
"No. Don't you, ever, say your goodbyes..." Thomas says, his breath shaking from the cold. Jack wanted to cry, but Thomas was looking deeply into his eyes.
"You're going to get out of this... you're going to go on... and you're going to get out into the world, and enjoy what life has to offer. I want you to die, to die an old man, warm in your bed. Not here. Not this night. Do you understand me?"
Jack also looked into Thomas' eyes. He is also having trouble speaking from the cold. He tries to interlock his fingers with Thomas once more.
"I guess winning that ticket was the best thing that has ever happened to me. It brought me to you, and I'm thankful, Thomas. I'm thankful." Jack says, voice trembling, as Thomas continued.
"Then you must do me this honor... promise me you will survive... that you will never give up... no matter what happens... no matter how hopeless... promise me now, and never let go of that promise." Jack swallowed hard, then lowly.
"I promise."
"Never let go."
"I promise. I will never let go, Thomas. I'll never let go." Jack grips his hand with all his strength and they lie with their heads together. It is quiet now, except for the lapping of the water.