Elise rubbed her neck again. The spot where the needle had gone in no longer bled, and it no longer hurt. Most of the pain had come and gone with the initial prick, all that lingered now was a growing fear that her health and well-being could be in jeopardy. She could think of no rational explanation for what had happened, and as best she could recall, she had never seen the bald man before in her life.
Who was he?
What did he want with her?
But more importantly—what had been inside the syringe?
What was now inside of her?
Before dropping any passengers off, the Ireland first had to stop by the Deep-water Quay to load mail bags carried by train. The short trip to the Quay was quite rocky, with the wind and waves off the shoreline battering against the small boat. A few rowboats ran alongside carrying local venders out to the Titanic to sell crafts and other native goods to wealthy passengers.
The Titanic was anchored roughly two miles from the dock at Queenstown. It had already picked up the great majority of passengers the day before in Southampton, England, and then later on in the evening in Cherbourg, France.
Elise had a firm grip on the metal hand railing as she stood on the top deck of the Ireland and looked out at the magnificent port side profile of the Titanic as they drew closer.
The ship stood over twenty stories tall, a marvelous creation of modern engineering that embodied mankind’s never-ending quest for greatness. There was a strong, masculine contrast to the black and white paint that covered most of the ship’s exterior, further exemplified by the four yellow and black tipped funnels equally spaced down the center, two of which currently expelled dark grey clouds of smoke. But more than anything, Elise was astonished by the number of portholes—there had to be five hundred just on the port side alone—and hoped her room would have such a thing.
At the top of the foremast flew the red, white, and blue of the American flag with the forty-six stars of the United States, the ship’s destination. On the mainmast was the red swallow-tailed pendant with a single five-pointed white star signifying the Titanic as a member of the White Star Line.
Elise listened as many of the other passengers chatted amongst themselves, amazed by the sheer size and grandeur of the ship, the largest passenger vessel ever produced. They were equally excited to check out the amenities on board, even though most would be travelling in steerage, as the ship was advertised as having excellent service and accommodations in all areas.
Elise was just glad they stopped leering in her direction. She felt fine despite the mysterious incident that had occurred back on the dock. Sure, she was nervous to be leaving her homeland, knowing she might never return, but she was also hopeful of the possibilities that lay ahead. The Titanic symbolized the first step of a journey toward a new beginning. How could she possibly worry in the presence of such shared anticipation and childlike wonder?
They passed the tender America as it headed back to Queenstown having already docked and unloaded its passengers and luggage. The captain of the Ireland made a wide circle and slowly came up on the port side of the Titanic. Elise waved at many of the passengers standing high above on the Titanic’s second-class boat deck.
Moments later, the small tender came to a stop even with the foremast of the Titanic. As the boat rolled back and forth, crew of the Ireland rushed to tether the ship to the Titanic via two thick ropes, and then began securing the gangway into place.
Passengers were allowed to board first, then the local venders, who passed from their rowboats into the Ireland and then into the Titanic. After all the passengers were on board, port officials loaded the luggage and mail.
Elise made her way through the gangway and up a flight of stairs to the forward well deck. She joined many of the other passengers against the railing and looked down as the Ireland took on a handful of passengers to be ferried back to the mainland. For those below, the journey on the ship of dreams was already over.
At around 1:30 p.m., a series of whistles indicated the Ireland was departing. Soon after the tender was out of sight, the Titanic weighed anchor and prepared to depart.
After having survived inspection and the challenge of finding her room, Elise went back up to watch as the large ship made a quarter-circle and then headed down the Irish coast. Hundreds of seagulls soared above guiding the way.
The Titanic steamed down St. George’s Channel passing the Old Head of Kinsale, its lighthouse faintly visible four or five miles away. They also came dangerously close to a small fishing vessel. The fishermen aboard cheered as they were hit with spray from the bow of the Titanic.
Elise began to weep as the lush green fields of Ireland began to disappear into the distance. She said a final prayer for her mother and father at rest, for her friends she was leaving behind, and for the land that she loved.
As the sun began to set, the coastline receded to the northwest and the last of the Irish mountains slowly slipped away under the cover of darkness.
CAPTAIN
EDWARD J. SMITH
Captain Edward J. Smith stood in the wheelhouse on the Titanic’s bridge and looked out into the dark of the night, the steep bow of the Titanic gently rising and falling before him. At the command of the ship’s wheel was Quartermaster Robert Hichens, with Alfred Olliver assisting.
It had been a stressful few days preparing for his final voyage as commodore of the White Star Line, and at sixty-two-years-old, Captain Smith looked forward to the rest and relaxation that would hopefully accompany his retirement.
Smith had been with the White Star Line for over thirty years, and had previously held the helm of such ships as the Baltic, the Majestic, and the Adriatic. He had also served in the Royal Navy Reserve, helping to transport troops to South Africa during the onset of the Boer War in 1899. But despite all his experience, navigating a ship as large and demanding as the Titanic was a whole new challenge.
He had learned a lot as captain of the Olympic, the Titanic’s sister ship, and he hoped to use that knowledge to make for an even smoother trip this time.
Smith strode up next to Quartermaster Hichens. “How does she feel?”
Hichens had a light grip on the wheel. “Great, sir. Like every man’s dream.”
Smith smiled and said, “Good,” and then exited the bridge.
The air outside was crisp and cool. A light wind blew from the southwest.
First Officer William Murdoch was standing under the lamplight of the bridge’s wing cabin as Captain Smith approached.
“What is the status of the cleanup?”
“Still ongoing, sir,” said Murdoch. “A bit more troublesome than expected.”
Yesterday, on the short trip from Southampton to Cherbourg, a fire had broken out in a starboard coal bunker in one of the boiler rooms. A number of crewmen had been assigned to keep hosing down the burning coal, and to clear out the bunker.
“Have you seen Wilde?”
“I imagine he’s sleeping.”
“I trust you hold no ill feelings?”
“None at all, sir. I fully understand why the decision was made.”