11

DECK D. CAPTAIN’S TABLE.

WEDNESDAY, APRIL 10, 1912. 8 P.M.

“Let us drink to the mighty Titanic!”

Passengers in the world’s largest floating room erupted in cheers of approval, and many stood to raise their glasses. With a sweep of his arm, Dr. William O’Loughlin hoisted his tumbler to the assembled and enjoyed a healthy swig of rye before retaking his seat at the captain’s table. His cheeks flushed warm, both from the applause and the drink.

In a corner of the room, Wallace Hartley launched the Titanic band into a lilting waltz, the violins’ melody line lifting above the applause. Leading this group marked the pinnacle of Hartley’s career, and his pride showed in the flourish of his bow. He smiled and winked at O’Loughlin as the man took his seat.

O’Loughlin sat, as usual, with his good friend, the architect Thomas Andrews. Boyish and thrilled to finally be at sea on Titanic after years spent dreaming her into existence, Andrews slapped the doctor on the back good-naturedly. “Perhaps you should skip the toasts and stick to curing the sick,” Andrews laughed.

The captain’s table was small, seating only six, but it was still the most prominent table in the first-class dining saloon, positioned forward and center of the rest. O’Loughlin and Andrews were joined by Lady Cardeza and her companion for the evening, businessman Emil Kaufmann, J. Bruce Ismay, and, of course, Captain Smith himself. A succulent smell of roast duckling filled the room. Now that Titanic was well out to sea, good spirits abounded.

“You’ll forgive me,” said Ismay to the Lady Cardeza, “if I celebrate too much this evening? Many years of hard work bear fruit tonight!”

“You’ll only be forgiven,” smiled the Lady Cardeza, motioning languidly for a steward carrying a bottle of red wine, “if you allow us to join the celebration.” Mr. Kaufmann bent his brow to the steward—a gesture meant to communicate, “She’s had enough, thank you.”

Ismay took in the room yet again, with its leaded windows and Jacobean-style alcoves. There had to be ten millionaires—millionaires!—in this saloon alone. “My God,” he said. “Titanic puts Lusitania to shame. Larger by half. And grander beyond measure.”

Mr. Kaufmann stifled a laugh into his napkin. Lady Cardeza joined in the laughter as well, but at what she would have been hard pressed to say.

“Do you find something funny, sir?” Ismay asked.

“Not at all,” replied Kaufmann dryly. “She’s a beautiful ship. Grand is just the word.”

“I haven’t told you nearly enough about my new friend, Mr. Kaufmann,” said Lady Cardeza. “He claims to be unattached, which I find hard to believe. And did I mention Emil is also in the shipping business? You two have so much in common!”

“You didn’t mention,” said Ismay. “What line, if I may ask?”

“Hamburg Amerika,” said Kaufmann.

Ismay bristled—no doubt Kaufmann was aboard on a fact-finding mission. The German line’s Deutschland had won the Blue Riband for fastest passenger liner to cross the Atlantic. Titanic would certainly pose a threat to that. “Funny,” said Ismay. “I thought I knew every man of consequence at Hamburg Amerika.”

“I’m new,” Kaufmann replied without elaboration.

There was an uncomfortable silence at the table as Ismay sized up the German, a big man with nondescript features. Ismay disliked Kaufmann immediately. Lady Cardeza, feeling silences were meant to be broken, raised her refilled glass for another toast.

“To Titanic!” she said. “May she sail a thousand voyages!”

“I designed her to sail ten thousand,” Ismay said pointedly, “come hell or high water.”

Andrews shifted in his seat and grinned, while Kaufmann let loose with a hearty “Hear, hear!” Andrews was happy to let Mr. Ismay have the spotlight. For Andrews, Titanic’s successful launch was reward enough. Not that work on the ship was finished. He kept a small notebook with him at all times to jot down any imperfections he observed or ideas for improvement. For example, he already wished he’d fought harder for the glass dome that would have served as this room’s ceiling.

“Let’s not tempt the fates,” said Captain Smith. “I’d prefer to leave the devil out of this.”

Ismay grimaced. Smith’s relentless sobriety was spoiling both Ismay’s mood and his moment of triumph. “You know how special this ship is, Captain,” Ismay said. “But perhaps Mr. Andrews can explain to our guests why Titanic is unique and unrivaled?” Asking Andrews to speak about Titanic was like asking a mother about her child. Andrews’s enthusiasm for his prodigy carried them right through to the end of their meal.

“Fifteen bulkheads rise from the bottom of the ship—some as far up as Deck E!—essentially creating sixteen individual compartments. Each compartment is watertight, or at least it is once we close the special doors.”

Kaufmann sniffed. “Yes, but it would be difficult to do by hand in an emergency—”

“Exactly!” Andrews interrupted. “That’s why we designed a new type of system. If, God forbid, the ship took on water from any sort of collision, we can close all the doors from the bridge via electronic switch.”

“Electronics!” exclaimed Lady Cardeza.

“Electronics that trigger hydraulically operated, vertically sliding doors, a design exclusive to Harland and Wolff,” Andrews explained with pride. “Why, even if Titanic took on water in four of those compartments, she would still stay afloat and sail on to her destination!”

“Unsinkable!” Ismay pounded the table and leaned at Kaufmann. “Shipbuilder magazine itself said so!”

“You don’t seem so sure, E. J.,” Lady Cardeza cooed to the captain, casually adjusting her hair. “I don’t know how to swim. Is Titanic truly unsinkable?”

“I cannot imagine any condition,” said Smith, “that would cause this good ship to founder. Thanks to men like Mr. Andrews, modern shipbuilding has gone beyond that.”

Andrews’s ears went red from the compliment. He grinned and pushed food around his plate.

“Then you agree with my assessment,” said Ismay, satisfied that he’d bested Kaufmann. “Titanic represents man’s triumph over the sea!”

Lady Cardeza took another swig of wine and leaned into the table. “But is it true what they say,” she said in a loud stage whisper, “about the ghost?”

Ismay coughed into his fist. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“One of the porters whispered it to me earlier,” said Lady Cardeza. “He said Titanic is haunted by a man who was trapped inside the walls of the ship itself! Is it true? I can’t imagine anything so horrible.”

Captain Smith clipped a long cigar and fired its end. A cerulean trail of smoke drifted toward the ceiling. “Go on. Tell her about our ghost, Mr. Andrews.”

“Yes, please do, Thomas,” said O’Loughlin.

“Fairy tales,” Ismay scoffed.

“Oh please,” urged Lady Cardeza, “you can tell me. I won’t breathe a word of it to anyone.”

“If it’s all right, Mr. Ismay,” said Andrews, “I’ll tell the tale. Sensible people will recognize the story for what it is.”

Lady Cardeza clapped her hands in delight. Kaufmann grinned as well. Mr. Ismay did not raise further protest.

“The gossip began,” Andrews said, “when a shipyard worker supposedly slipped and fell unnoticed into the steel hull. Some say his name was Wassell. Others say Sclater.”

“Yes, but what was his name?” asked Lady Cardeza.

“He doesn’t have a name because he doesn’t exist. But as the story goes, our mystery man was knocked unconscious, and his coworkers, unaware of his presence inside the hull, entombed the man inside. At night—” Here Andrews paused for dramatic effect. “—the shipyard men say that you can still hear the poor sod pounding the walls of his prison, trying to alert the world to his horrific fate.”

“I heard knocking this very evening,” exclaimed Lady Cardeza, eyes wide.

“No doubt the steward with his corkscrew,” said O’Loughlin with a chuckle. Lady Cardeza harrumphed.

“There are a hundred such stories for every ship that’s built,” said Andrews. “I thought I could dispel this one by conducting a full investigation. Nothing and no one was ever found. But by refusing to ignore the gossip, I seem to have only given it stronger legs.”

“Rumor and innuendo have torn down far more than they have ever built,” said Ismay, shaking his head.

“I did turn the tale to my advantage, however,” said Andrews with a wry grin. “I took to calling the hull ‘the Tomb’ as a way to remind the men their work was dangerous. And that did it, by God. Injuries went down more than 15 percent.”

“Well played,” said Kaufmann, as if conceding a point.

“And there you are,” Ismay said. “Another example of modern man overcoming superstition. We have entered an age in which men of science and industry can bend the world to their will.”

“So it would seem, Mr. Ismay,” said Captain Smith. “Still, I believe it’s wise to maintain a healthy respect of the unknown.”

“Oh, please, Captain. Don’t tell me you have more horror stories to share!” chided Ismay.

“Some stories,” replied Smith, “are not meant for the dinner table.”

Ismay regarded the captain. “That reminds me of some fine advice from Robert Louis Stevenson: Keep your fears to yourself and share your courage with others.”

“Wise words,” agreed Smith. “Reminds me of another saying I picked up during my time in Arabia, though I don’t know who said it first.”

“What is it?” implored the Lady Cardeza. The others leaned in as well.

“Arrogance,” said Smith, “diminishes wisdom.”