The Titan Drowns

Max

  Max walked around the deck as the time for extraction approached. He saw the ice drifts floating innocently by and felt the chill in the air. It seemed perfect conditions for larger icebergs, but though he strained his eyes out across the tranquil ocean, he could see nothing big enough to cause concern. But there would be, he knew. In less than an hour, an iceberg would suddenly appear in front of the ship and they would be unable to avoid the collision.

  Too depressed and anxious to stay outside any longer, he made his way back inside, catching up with Finn and the Lunridges as he came in through the companionway on A Deck. With them, he finished the journey down to the reception area outside the restaurant, which was where they were to wait for Marco.

  When Carter, Hugo and Jean Pierre joined them shortly after their arrival, Max checked his pocket watch. Just eleven o’clock. They waited patiently as the last of those from the smoking room on the deck above wandered down the aft Grand Staircase heading for their staterooms, chatting as if they didn’t have a care in the world. And for the moment, they didn’t. However, in a very short time that situation would change.

  As time crawled on, his patience came to an end. He noticed his hands were beginning to shake as he looked at the time once more. It was ten past eleven. Marco was late. What if the waiter decided not to come? How long should they wait for him?

  After exchanging a troubled look with Carter, he was just about to suggest they move on when the door to the restaurant opened and Marco hurried toward them. He was still in his uniform and looked harried.

  ‘I am sorry to delay you. The last patrons were slow to leave tonight.’ With a silent nod and smile, the group turned and began to make their way along the wide, carpeted B Deck passageways toward the fore Grand Staircase. They kept Marco in the centre so he would not draw attention, and they chatted quietly as they passed any of the remaining passengers or crew who were still about.

  At the fore Grand Staircase, Max noted the time on ‘Honour and Glory,’ the ornate angelic clock that rang out the hours, half hours and quarters religiously, day and night. Glancing up, he saw the glittering white dome overhead. It shone brighter than the sun and he was in awe of it every time he took these stairs. Soon it would shatter under the pressure of tons of water pressing in on it, flooding the staircase they now walked down. It did not bear thinking about!

  There were a few people still moving around in the reception area outside the Dining Saloon, but the Saloon itself seemed to be in darkness beyond the ornate wood and glass doorway. As they approached, the door opened for them and Max stepped through it to see Hughes standing there in the darkness, a smile beneath his moustache on his otherwise tense face. As the last of their number entered, Hughes relocked the door behind them.

  ‘Did you have any trouble getting the keys?’ he asked Hughes quietly as they made their way between the tables toward the distant kitchen galley. They would be walking almost half the ship to get to the second class Dining Saloon that lay on the other side of the combined first and second class kitchens.

  ‘No sir, the keys are kept on their own marked hooks and it was only a matter of selecting the correct one. I was not questioned.’

  Max gave the man a congratulatory pat on the arm and followed as Carter led the way. He noticed that Marco was beginning to lag behind and he wondered if he should drop back and reassure the man. The waiter would be troubled by what they were doing; probably far more than the rest of them who had been given time to come to terms with this endeavour.

  When they reached the doors into the serving room and first class pantry, he looked up and saw jugs hanging in long rows overhead. He had never been in this part of the ship before and he doubted few passengers had.

  He took a moment to admire the orderliness of it all. Every space above and below was utilised, storing items that would be used during meal times. The only exceptions were the serving dressers and work benches that stood shining clean and empty in the dimly lit enclosure.

  What must this area be like when a busy crew hastened about their duties in perfect synchrony? All the while, the rich passengers sat at their luxurious tables in serene ignorance of the frantic work being carried out for their benefit so nearby.

  Letting the others pass, he waited for Marco and then fell in beside him. ‘You handling it, old man?’

  Marco looked at him with tense, dark eyes. ‘Sí, Signor, I am handling it. The ship has not stopped yet.’

  The way he said it told Max that Marco didn’t believe it ever would. So he still had to have it proven to him, did he? Well, seeing the Portal open as Max had seen it opened that day in Claridges would be enough to convince Marco.

  Max patted the man on the back and said no more as they followed the others between the counters, through a series of doors and along a passageway until they reached the second class pantry. At that point, they could hear the sound of soft talking. A boy’s voice was the loudest, but he was still not speaking above a stage whisper. They hurried to join the hushed voices ahead.

  The amount of people in the Dining Saloon was, at first, rather overwhelming, even when he was expecting it. He looked around for Eilish and, catching sight of her, left Marco’s side to go to her. Hurrying through the adults and some children who were milling in excited impatience, he reached his woman and wrapped her in his arms for a few precious seconds.

  ‘There you are. You were a bit late. I was getting worried,’ Eilish said against his chest. He ran his hand through her silky curls and allowed himself to enjoy the sensation before he spoke.

  ‘Marco couldn’t get away. Is everyone here?’

  ‘Yes. You are the last. It went remarkably well. I keep expecting something to go wrong at any moment.’

  ‘You planned this as completely as any military mission, there was no reason it should go wrong. Oh…’

  They all felt it then, a slight jerk and shudder that went right through the ship. Then there was a subtle sound, like fabric being torn, which seemed to go on and on. When it finally stopped, so did the engines.