Post by terfle on Jun 20, 2006 22:35:29 GMT
The ship’s horn resounded above the bustling port of South Hampton as I darted through the crowd and raced up to the crew entrance.
-Name?
-Michael Stallard
-Age?
-34
-Occupation?
-Laundry worker
Go in
I went inside the mighty ship and leaned against the rafters as I inspected the surroundings; plush carpets and glass windows.
-Make way, roared the man at the entrance so I strolled away from the doorway and walked down the staircase leading downwards. This was to be my home until I got the America, the Promised Land.
I boarded the Ship of Dreams full of hope and left it later, trembling and shaking, devoid of the faith that had kept me going until then.
I’m not an engineer but the moment I set foot on Titanic, it was clear that it was an extraordinary ship. As I was part of the crew, I was not lucky enough to go on the upper decks, but what I glimpsed of it was marvellous. The polished floors; the gilded banisters; the luxurious furnished bedrooms, even the kitchen was a marvel. I felt the First class didn’t fully appreciate the finery they were surrounded with every day but nevertheless; it was grand to be on a ship with carpets and heating.
I have to admit, I felt a little apprehensive because its proportions were vast and it was claimed to be unsinkable. But no matter, it was a marvel.
I soon fell into my daily routine of getting up early and waiting for a companion to collect the laundry from the upper decks and coming back down with stories of the people up there. They were paper faces to me, forgettable even when walking past in fancy lace and silks. We washed their laundry in the steaming room full of tubs with heavenly hot water, well equipped with warm soapy suds up to our arms.
As menial workers, we worked long and hard the whole day, stopping for simple meals and occasional rests where we sat and talked about America and the lives we had left behind back in England. One man had been lucky enough to go to America before and he regaled us with images of mile high buildings, busy streets and plentiful jobs. We listened spellbound to his memories and when night came, we crept into our narrow bunks and dreamed of what he’d painted in our minds.
The time on the ship passed as a dream, soon disaster struck. The water crept up to our ankles, numbing our senses and increasing their panic as we rushed to the exits. The shudder and crash we felt minutes before was explained as a minor hitch, so why, as we ran up the stairs, get the feeling that we were running for our lives?
The ship was eerily empty and silent as we rushed up to the upper decks, although when we reached the top level, we realised by the orchestra, that people were still dining.
I ran onto the deck and breathed in cold, salty air and looked up to the starts twinkling in the velvet blue sky and thought that nothing could happen tonight. How wrong I was. I got a shock as I looked to one side and saw that next to the stars floated the colossal iceberg that was the cause of this destruction.
Within minutes, the deck was flooded with faces in evening dress and life jackets, crying out and jostling for space on a lifeboat. My heart sank. Was the end so near?
People surged onto the lifeboats to the cry of ‘Women and children first!’ I watched as fathers and grown men said goodbye to their children and wives, tears streaming down their faces as they waved to them for what was to be the last time-a saddening sight. I could not do much but to help people on, hoping for their survival.
A few terrible hours later while the floor was sinking under my feet, I looked around while the orchestra played the sad sounds of a sonnet. How noble they were the play out as the ship sank. Up until now, I hadn’t noticed the number of lifeboats left but I saw that the last few were hastily leaving. I looked around and heard the sonnet of the brave musicians, the screams of those who knew they were going to die, the muffled resignation of the people still left within the ship and the parting sermon from the priest to the rest of the doomed souls aboard. I was tempted to stop and pray but if the Lord couldn’t help me, I had to help myself. Whispering a silent prayer, I leapt aboard the last boat, clinging on for dear life.
Behind me I heard the groan of the hull tearing and the last wails of those who plunged to their icy fate. Hardly believing it, I turned around sharply and recoiled in horror as the ship broke in two and the lights finally flickered out. I helped to row for my life. I tried to block everything out, the piercing cold and desperate screams but I realised what seemed like hours later as I collapsed to the floor of the boat sobbing and shaking that I had just had a lucky escape and I had not thanked the Lord for it, only my athletic ability to vault into a leaving boat. I had survived with the tiniest amount of luck, I realised, as I looked out beyond the boat, out to mocking waters of the dark Atlantic.
Dead bodies floated around us like driftwood, we pushed them aside to allow room for our lifeboat. I wept with grief mingled with bitter tears, tears for people that had been trapped aboard and now lifeless bodies that stared at us from the cold cruel waters surrounding us.
If I let my mind wander, I let it flood in, like the ill-fated ship let in the swirling sea. Two years on, I still can hear the screaming of the seagulls so much like the people on board as the Titanic sank out of sight to the world…
-Name?
-Michael Stallard
-Age?
-34
-Occupation?
-Laundry worker
Go in
I went inside the mighty ship and leaned against the rafters as I inspected the surroundings; plush carpets and glass windows.
-Make way, roared the man at the entrance so I strolled away from the doorway and walked down the staircase leading downwards. This was to be my home until I got the America, the Promised Land.
I boarded the Ship of Dreams full of hope and left it later, trembling and shaking, devoid of the faith that had kept me going until then.
I’m not an engineer but the moment I set foot on Titanic, it was clear that it was an extraordinary ship. As I was part of the crew, I was not lucky enough to go on the upper decks, but what I glimpsed of it was marvellous. The polished floors; the gilded banisters; the luxurious furnished bedrooms, even the kitchen was a marvel. I felt the First class didn’t fully appreciate the finery they were surrounded with every day but nevertheless; it was grand to be on a ship with carpets and heating.
I have to admit, I felt a little apprehensive because its proportions were vast and it was claimed to be unsinkable. But no matter, it was a marvel.
I soon fell into my daily routine of getting up early and waiting for a companion to collect the laundry from the upper decks and coming back down with stories of the people up there. They were paper faces to me, forgettable even when walking past in fancy lace and silks. We washed their laundry in the steaming room full of tubs with heavenly hot water, well equipped with warm soapy suds up to our arms.
As menial workers, we worked long and hard the whole day, stopping for simple meals and occasional rests where we sat and talked about America and the lives we had left behind back in England. One man had been lucky enough to go to America before and he regaled us with images of mile high buildings, busy streets and plentiful jobs. We listened spellbound to his memories and when night came, we crept into our narrow bunks and dreamed of what he’d painted in our minds.
The time on the ship passed as a dream, soon disaster struck. The water crept up to our ankles, numbing our senses and increasing their panic as we rushed to the exits. The shudder and crash we felt minutes before was explained as a minor hitch, so why, as we ran up the stairs, get the feeling that we were running for our lives?
The ship was eerily empty and silent as we rushed up to the upper decks, although when we reached the top level, we realised by the orchestra, that people were still dining.
I ran onto the deck and breathed in cold, salty air and looked up to the starts twinkling in the velvet blue sky and thought that nothing could happen tonight. How wrong I was. I got a shock as I looked to one side and saw that next to the stars floated the colossal iceberg that was the cause of this destruction.
Within minutes, the deck was flooded with faces in evening dress and life jackets, crying out and jostling for space on a lifeboat. My heart sank. Was the end so near?
People surged onto the lifeboats to the cry of ‘Women and children first!’ I watched as fathers and grown men said goodbye to their children and wives, tears streaming down their faces as they waved to them for what was to be the last time-a saddening sight. I could not do much but to help people on, hoping for their survival.
A few terrible hours later while the floor was sinking under my feet, I looked around while the orchestra played the sad sounds of a sonnet. How noble they were the play out as the ship sank. Up until now, I hadn’t noticed the number of lifeboats left but I saw that the last few were hastily leaving. I looked around and heard the sonnet of the brave musicians, the screams of those who knew they were going to die, the muffled resignation of the people still left within the ship and the parting sermon from the priest to the rest of the doomed souls aboard. I was tempted to stop and pray but if the Lord couldn’t help me, I had to help myself. Whispering a silent prayer, I leapt aboard the last boat, clinging on for dear life.
Behind me I heard the groan of the hull tearing and the last wails of those who plunged to their icy fate. Hardly believing it, I turned around sharply and recoiled in horror as the ship broke in two and the lights finally flickered out. I helped to row for my life. I tried to block everything out, the piercing cold and desperate screams but I realised what seemed like hours later as I collapsed to the floor of the boat sobbing and shaking that I had just had a lucky escape and I had not thanked the Lord for it, only my athletic ability to vault into a leaving boat. I had survived with the tiniest amount of luck, I realised, as I looked out beyond the boat, out to mocking waters of the dark Atlantic.
Dead bodies floated around us like driftwood, we pushed them aside to allow room for our lifeboat. I wept with grief mingled with bitter tears, tears for people that had been trapped aboard and now lifeless bodies that stared at us from the cold cruel waters surrounding us.
If I let my mind wander, I let it flood in, like the ill-fated ship let in the swirling sea. Two years on, I still can hear the screaming of the seagulls so much like the people on board as the Titanic sank out of sight to the world…
