Capítulo 1: Titanic Sinks [Ch. 1]
"Let the Truth be known, no ship is unsinkable. The bigger the ship, the easier it is to sink her. I learned long ago that if you design how a ship will sink, you can keep her afloat. I proposed all the watertight compartments and the double hull to slow these ships from sinking."
Thomas Andrews
April 1912
R.M.S Titanic | North Atlantic Ocean | 23:57:00
Sunday, April 14, 1912
The ship had come to a stop. Officers were summoned to the Bridge. Captain Smith emerged from his suite, wondering what had caused the disturbance only a moment ago. Curious passengers leaned over the side of the ship, looking down into the water. Damage? Uncertain. It was dark, light from cabins below shining out through the portholes; the foreseeable surface of water was covered with light circles.
On the Forecastle Deck, various-sized chunks of ice were being strewn about. Kicked around by young lads who paid no attention to the cause for concern. The lookouts watched from the crow's nest, bickering and debating with each other.
"Bloody hell," Frederick Fleet said, "look at them! Kicking ice around like a bunch of children."
"Look," Reginald Lee said as he pointed back towards the Bridge. Frederick looked up away from the lads down on the Forecastle Deck and up towards the Bridge.
The Captain and First Officer Murdoch walked out onto deck; Captain Smith being half-dressed. His tie was loosened and his collar button unbuttoned. His shirt remained tucked in and he kept his shoes on too. Captain Smith walked over to the Starboard Bridge Wing, looking downward, leaning out and over.
"What are they talking about?" Reginald questioned. Frederick shrugged his shoulders.
"Be a good lad and go find out, yeah?" Frederick joked.
"Piss off!" Reginald said as he hit Frederick's arm.
On the Bridge Wing, Captain Smith leaned back in. He turned around to look back at First Officer Murdoch. There was cause for concern in his eyes; Officer Murdoch could tell he was worried. Those who knew about what had happened were worried and skeptical.
"Close the watertight doors," Captain Smith ordered.
"Doors are closed Sir," Officer Murdoch answered.
"See to it that the Carpenter is summoned then. Have him to sound the ship," Captain Smith told Officer Murdoch to pass that information along.
"Yes Sir. Right away, Sir," Officer Murdoch said as he too turned around and rushed back into the heated wheelhouse. Officers' quarters were located on the Portside of the ship, just aft of the heated wheelhouse and Bridge. Opening the door, he walked in. The Captain stood outside on the Bridge Wing for another moment or two. His heart was racing, his breathing increasing. Stepping up on the pedestal, he clenched his grip on the pedestal.
Down below, he heard young boys laughing and giggling as they kicked an ice chunk back and forth. Captain Smith clenched his grip on the pedestal. Under the crow's nest were some other passengers. He'd assumed they saw the iceberg too. Stepping down, he then made his way back to the wheelhouse. Stepping in, the door closed behind him. Helmsman Hitchins was still at his post–the helm.
Third Officer Herbert Pitman emerged from his cabin, awoken by the shudder. He was dressed in uniform and was curious to know what caused that shudder. Upon arriving in the wheelhouse, he noticed the watertight compartments diagram were lit; all sixteen. That meant that all compartments had been sealed shut.
"Sir," Officer Pitman said, "what was that?"
"An iceberg, Mr. Pitman," Captain Smith answered, "we've struck an iceberg."
Looking over at the clock on the wall, Officer Pitman noted the time: 11:41 p.m. He could see the sweat on their faces; all signs pointing to trouble. Now he was curious to know more about the situation.
"The Carpenter is assessing our predicament," Captain Smith said, "in the meantime, we get underway. For now, maintain heading at Dead Slow."
"Yes Sir," Officer Pitman said as he walked outside to the Bridge.
Heading down the First Class E Deck hallway was Officer Murdoch. Fourth Officer Joseph Boxhall had joined him. They had run into each other in the Grand Staircase. Rushing past awoken passengers, they had arrived at cabin A-36. It was located on the Portside E Deck. It was there that Thomas Andrews was residing for the voyage.
Inside, Thomas was sitting, examining the Titanic's blueprints. Although not the most luxurious cabin, it was still decorated and furnished; similar to the Second Class cabin style. White simple-looking wood paneling, with brown paneling near the bottom of the walls.
A single small mirror hung just above the vanity with drawers. On the floor next to the vanity, there was a medium-sized trunk. It was left open, but it was empty. A small wardrobe was next to the arched window. The window gave him a view of the Promenade Deck. The ocean was the finishing touch that made the view worth seeing. Knock, knock, knock. Right as he looked up away from the blueprint, Officer Murdoch and Boxhall walked into his cabin.
"Gentlemen," he said, "what brings you by at this hour?"
"You're being summoned by the Captain," Officer Boxhall said. "It's urgent."
"Regarding?" Thomas asked quietly.
"This is not the place to speak of this matter, Mr. Andrews," Officer Murdoch whispered, then looking down both ways of the hallway. He was making sure no one was overhearing what they were talking about. It was late. The last thing he wanted was for someone to hear them and start to wonder. Curiousness will only lead to panic.
Thomas grabbed his coat, and rolled up the ship's blueprints. Officer Murdoch and Boxhall stepped out of the way as he walked out of his cabin and into the hallway. He shut his door behind him. As the three of them began walking back towards the Bridge, passengers had started emerging from their staterooms wondering what all the commotion was for.
"Mr. Andrews," John Jacob Astor said as he began walking down the hallway towards them. His wife, Madeleine, was with him. She had her arm wrapped around his.
"My sincerest apologies, Mr. Astor," Thomas said as he walked past them with Officer Murdoch and Boxhall following him. The Astors stood in the hallway, watching Thomas, Officer Murdoch, and Officer Boxhall disappear around the corner.
"Don't worry my darling," Mr. Astor said.
"We saw the iceberg," Madeleine responded in a soft, almost quiet, tone of voice as she looked up at him. "You saw it too!" She continued to mention to him.
"If that's what they were tending to, then we mustn't get in their way," he told her.
A female passenger standing in the doorway to her stateroom had overheard them talking about what they had seen. She stepped out into the hallway, adjusting her rob to cover up her nightgown. She took one step forward towards the Astor's.
"An iceberg?" The woman questioned as the Astors both looked over at her. They hadn't noticed she was there when they were talking. She had overheard what they had said.
"Mother, please," a young gentleman said as he walked out into the hallway. "Come back inside. It's late."
He didn't notice the Astors at first, but when he looked up he did. "Oh. John? Madeleine? My apologies about my mother."
"No apology needed, Mr. Thayer," John said. "All is well."
Jack approached his mother, gently grabbing her arms and rubbing them up and down with his hands. He turned her around, with the two of them walked back to their cabin. Once his mother was back inside, he backed out into the hallway, gently closing the door. As he let go of the brass handle, he asked the Astor's a question.
"Did you feel that?" He asked, "that–that shudder. Just a moment ago."
"Whatever shudder you felt Mr. Thayer, I'm certain it was nothing to be alarmed about."
Just after John had told Jack that, the faint vibrations from the engines were felt again. But the rate at how noticeable the vibrations were was far less than what they were earlier. Something seemed off about everything. Jack could sense that something was wrong, but what that something was he did not know.
"You're not going to tell him?" Madeleine asked as she looked up at her husband. She was frowning, having her eyebrows slightly lowered.
"Darling, we're on the safest ship in the world," Mr. Astor told his wife.
Down the hall a short way, a white wooden door flew open. Stumbling out into the hallway came four gentlemen. Their clothes were soaked and dirty, their hair dripping water down their faces, their footsteps making mushing sounds. Madeleine and John Astor both noticed the group of men as they made sense of where they were now at. When they noticed John and Madeleine standing at the end of the hall, one of them shouted and pointed at them.
"Aye!" One man said, "where's the Captain? Where's Mr. Andrews?"
John and Madeleine were at a loss for a proper response. They were agitated and scared. They were shaken up, with two of them wrapping their arms around their stomachs while shivering.
"Oi, the water's bloody cold down there," another man mentioned.
"Water?" Madeleine questioned as she took a step forward. John gently grabbed her left arm, keeping her from going any closer to them. She briefly turned around, attempting to yank her arm free. But his grasp was too tight and firm.
"No," he told her, "they're filthy and wet. You'll spoil your dress," John warned her.
"Oh yeah," one man said, "one moment we're shoveling coal, the next we're fleeing for our lives."
Madeleine was shaken up by what they were explaining to them. Of course, though, the details were vague. She began painting a mental picture of what she thought was happening. Dare she say it? Or mumble it alternatively? What would happen if she did?
Squeak! Another door opened; out came an older woman. She was still dressed in her dinner attire. Her outfit consisted of the color purple. Stepping out into the hallway, she first glanced over to her left… and then to her right.
"Mrs. Astor," she said, "did you feel that?"
"The shudder? I'm afraid not, Molly" she replied as she slowly turned her head to look back at her husband. He knew what she just did. She scolded him for doing the exact thing just a moment earlier.
About nine minutes have passed. The time is now 11:49. Thomas and Officer Murdoch had come up to a door. There was a sign on the door that read: No Passengers Allowed. Crew Members Only.
This was the door that would take them down to the lower decks. These are decks not accessible to passengers or stewards and stewardesses. Thomas opened the door and the two gentlemen walked into the room. In the middle of the room was a cylinder-shaped chute with a ladder.
Climbing down the ladder, they arrived at Boiler Room Six. They were immediately greeted with water spraying into the compartment. They couldn't go down the ladder any further. If they tried, they would be swept under by the fast current the water was creating.
"Go. Go back up!" Thomas said.
"That's what? Fourteen feet?" Officer Murdoch questioned.
"Give or take," Thomas said.
Rising fast, Thomas feared what any ship designer feared most—a sinking ship. Although the water was rising here, his hopes remained high. From what Officer Murdoch explained to him earlier, the ship grazed the iceberg from the bow to just aft of the Bridge. It was then that he ordered 'Hard to Port'.
The iceberg was long out of sight by now. Remnants of what remained on the Forecastle Deck were all that was left; the only clear sign of an iceberg collision. Thomas didn't know that yet, but he soon would.
They then made their way back up the ladder as quickly as they could. Officer Murdoch grabbed Thomas's hand, assisting him up and off the ladder. They walked out of the room they had been in. Thomas was carrying the construction plans for the ship, tucked in between his arms. In a hurry, they went to survey the forward four compartments.
After surveying the forward five compartments, they made their way back up to the Bridge. By then, it was 12:05 a.m. Unbeknownst to them, Captain Smith had given the order to start prepping the lifeboats.
"Come on," Captain Smith said to Thomas.
Going up the two flights of stairs, they eventually arrived on the Starboard Boat Deck. They weren't able to go any further downward due to the water. The Mail Room had flooded just minutes after the collision. Thomas only found this out after running into two postal clerks on D Deck. They were carrying bags full of postages, letters, and other mail that they could lift.
"Mail Room has gone under," one mail clerk had told Thomas. They had run into them around 11:58p.m. Although, they weren't keeping track of time. They wouldn't find out the time again until they arrived back on the Bridge.
Captain Smith had ordered the engines to All Stop, meaning the engines were shut off. This would be the last time they would operate. By now, 12:10, lifeboats had already begun being prepped for launch. Passengers were being summoned from their cabins. For example, First Class passengers were asked to gather in the First Class Dining Room, where Wallace Hartley and his band would play elegant, soothing tunes.
Back on the Bridge, Thomas Andrews had laid out Titanic's watertight compartment layout on a desk in the Captain's Reading Room. First Officer Murdoch, Second Officer Lightoller, and Thomas were all present in the room. Outside, you could faintly hear crewmen shouting and giving orders.
"Mr. Andrews?" Captain Smith said as he held his hands behind his back, "what's the word?"
Second Officer Lightoller shut the door behind him, turning around to look over at Thomas. Officer Murdoch's face was sweaty, his cheeks being red. Captain Smith remained optimistic about their current predicament. But that would soon change, however.
Setting all three blueprints down on the desk, he unrolled the plans that showed the sixteen watertight compartments and deck layout.
"Flooding in the forepeak, all three holds, and in boiler room five," Thomas explained. Officer Murdoch gulped silently. Captain Smith glanced up, looking away from the blueprint laid out on the desk. He stared blankly into Thomas's eyes. He was waiting for him to explain more of how much damage the ship had succumbed to.
"She can stay afloat with four compartments, but not five," Thomas warned.
"What are you telling me, Mr. Andrews? Out with it," Captain Smith said.
Thomas nodded his head, glancing back down at the plans briefly.
"Titanic, no matter what we do… will founder," Thomas stated.
"How much time?" Captain Smith asked.
Thomas stood firm, slowly nodding his head. He covered his mouth with his hand as he configured a predicted calculation of how much time the ship had left. Everyone waited in complete silence. Then, Mr. Ismay himself barged into the Reading Room. He left the door wide open. Furious, outraged, eager were how he was feeling currently.
"Captain, what's going on? Why have we stopped?" Ismay questioned. Captain Smith turned around as did Thomas.
He stared over at Ismay in disbelief and complete shock. Silence lingered throughout the room. Ismay was huffing and puffing because of his unnecessary behavior and anger.
"An iceberg, Mr. Ismay," he said.
"Perposterous!" Ismay said in baffled tone of voice, "Icebergs? Where? I haven't seen any."
"Just because you cannot see them," Thomas explained, "does not mean they are not there."
Ismay scoffed and shook his head. They're on the safest ship in the world. Captain Smith even said it himself: "not even God himself could sink this ship." He had said during Titanic's sea trials about a week prior. Before taking command of Titanic, he was in command of the R.M.S Olympic.
His belief that all ships were practically unsinkable, all started when the H.M.H.S Hawke collided with the Olympic on September 20th, 1911. The possibility of danger was imminent. But luckily, tragedy was avoided that day. That was the day Captain Smith believed nothing could sink a ship, not even his own. What about now, you wonder? Well, let's just say he's bewildered and frightened. Their new reality was starting to settle in.
"Lifeboats are being prepped? Steam being vented?" Ismay questioned, "I demand an answer, Captain."
"She's sinking, Mr. Ismay," Thomas blurted out. Ismay looked over at him, a tense facial expression on his face. "This ship can't sink."
"Don't be so naive, Mr. Ismay," Thomas said, "this is our reality now."
"How much time?" Captain Smith asked Thomas once more.
Shortly after the collision, a five to Starboard had formed. The ship's bow is now starting to sink lower into the sea, although it was just barely noticeable. The ship appeared to be on an even keel. Her current head trim, a term used to describe the angle of the ship; more specifically the bow, is around 1.0 to 1.5°. Passengers were still unaware of the danger they're in, muchless aware of their ship sinking beneath them.
"An hour," Thomas said, delivering his prediction, "hour and a half maybe?"
Ismay sighed with frustration, shaknig his head. "She can't sink."
"That's where you're wrong," Thomas replied, "I assure you…she can."
"When will be get underway again Captain?" Ismay said in an angry and frustrated tone of voice.
"Mr. Ismay!" Thomas shouted as he pointed at Bruce. He was losing patience with Ismay's arrogance. "We won't be getting underway anytime soon! Watch your tone and shut up!"
Ismay was baffled and shocked by Mr. Andrews' tone with him. He scoffed and shook his head. Without saying anything further, he turned around and stormed angrily out of the Captain's Reading Room. Once he was gone, Captain Smith and Thomas made eye contact with eachother.
"How many on board, Mr. Murdoch?" He asked, staring into Thomas's eyes. He was unable to look away. He was at a loss for words and emotions.
"About 2,200 passengers onboard, Sir," Officer Murdoch answered as he gulped thereafter.
"Ah, I see," he said, "mustn't waste time then. Mr. Murdoch, you'll oversee the Starboard lifeboats, while you, Mr. Lightoller, will oversee the Portside lifeboats. Get to it gentlemen."
"Yes sir," they responded in unison as they turned around and walked back outside, rushing over to their assigned sides of the ship. Thomas and Captain Smith were the only ones left in the Reading Room.
Bang, bang! Cling, cling! Those were the sounds of chains to the lifeboats being severed. They both walked over to the window, both looking out at the Starboard Boat Deck. Other members of the crew, mostly men, were assisting in the lifeboat preparations. Lifeboats 3 and 5 were slowly being lifted up and over the side of the ship; then being lowered down to be level with the Boat Deck. Once that was done, ropes were tied to a mooring anchor by the davits. Now came the task of uncovering the boats and untieing sets of wooden oars. But no matter how fast the crew moved, time was ahead of them. By that I mean, the preparation process was slow-moving. Thomas reached into his vest pocket, grabbing his pocket watch out. Flipping open the cover, he checked the time; 12:20 a.m was the time he read.
In the First Class Dining Room and Grand Staircase, music was heard from the ship's band members as they played elegant tunes. The band was split into two groups of four. Wallace Hartley, John Hume, Percy Taylor, and Georges Krins were playing in the Grand Staircase.
In the Dining Room, Theodore Brailey, Roger Bricoux, John Woodward, and John Clarke were playing. As the others played Wedding Dance in the Grand Staircase, Theodore, Roger, John Woodward, and John Clarke were playing a classical favorite: Alexander's Ragtime Band.
As the night went on, more passengers were crowding into the Dining Room and Grand Staircase. Some were dressed in warm attire and wearing life jackets. Not everyone had a lifejacket on however they too were dressed warmly. Still though, everything seemed calm and orderly. Feeling the ship listing to Starboard was noticed by everyone, but barely anybody spoke of their suspicions. They continued conversing with each other; something frequently done aboard.
Wallace, Percy, John, and Georges finished playing Wedding Dance. Wallace then told them what song to play next. They readied themselves to play again.
"Blue Danube gentlemen," Wallace said.
Status de energia semanal
-- Ranking de
Poder 
-- Pedra de
Poder