The X Files: Titanix

Chapter 3

3.

MV Titanic, North Atlantic.
Wednesday.
12.29am (ships time).

The Second Officer moved across the bridge from where he had been standing on the port wing. He picked up the powerful Zeiss binoculars from their cubby on the central console and wandered back over to the port side. Lifting them to his face, he scanned the distant horizon for the radar target he knew to be off the quarter, invisible as it was; hidden effectively by its distance from the ship and the curvature of the earth. Sighing to himself, he returned the binoculars to the console and walked over to the starboard wing, peering down through the floor port at the water foaming along the ship's side over seventy feet below.

The sea was calm enough, but as he stared out across the bow at the long, low swells, he got the impression the waves were shifting uneasily. This wasn't unusual for the Atlantic, but he knew this would pale into insignificance compared to the seas still several days and a thousand miles or more to the southwest, stirred up by a huge early-season storm brewing in the Caribbean Sea.

Part of his duties as Senior Second Officer, van Wyk had been tracking the weather charts religiously over the last 24 hours or so and knew they should miss the bad weather, even if it came right up the eastern seaboard, but he also knew the final run in to New York might still be slightly bumpier than they'd like.

Back at the central console, in the area they called the cockpit, he checked the course indicator on the console against autopilot setting, confirming them both with the GPS track shown on the ECDIS display, noting they were making good time over the ground, and with very little lateral drift from their course. Aside from that one target off to port at about 10 miles out, one of the world's busiest seaways seemed unusually empty.

van Wyk smiled to himself. Despite some early teething troubles on the way down from Belfast to Southampton, the ship was now performing magnificently. They were running with the stabilizers out, at a fairly comfortable 21 knots, and the ship felt rock solid under him.

Aside from one other seaman, who was occupying himself cleaning the windows, and the deck cadet whom he had just sent on an errand, he was alone on the bridge. With the level of automation installed, there wasn't the need for the bridge to be heavily staffed as it might have been on the original Titanic. Trying to hide his boredom, he flopped down in the captain's leather chair and spun it around, then stopped, his gaze fixed on the curious expression on the senior third officer's face.

Peter Stubbs had just entered the bridge from the port-side door to the outside deck and was stood with his back against the door jamb, half on the bridge, half out on the deck, his head cocked as if he was listening intently for a sound that had caught his attention.

van Wyk wearily climbed out of the chair and walked over toward his junior. 'Back so soon! What's up, Pete?'

Stubbs held up his hand, silencing him. At any other time, this would have immediately got up van Wyk's nose. But not now, not with Stubbs so obviously puzzled about what he had heard or felt. Stubbs partially turned, still listening, and he made only a half-hearted attempt to catch his white-brimmed peaked cap as it slid off his head and clattered to the deck. He just listened.

'Peter?' van Wyk's patience was beginning to wear thin. Someone had told him about Peter Stubbs' reputation for pulling practical jokes in the past and he was determined not to be the recipient of whatever this one was. Just as he was about to demand an explanation, Stubbs bobbed down to retrieve his cap and straightened up.

'Sorry, Bill,' he said. 'I thought I heard something.'

'Like what?'

'I don't know. It was more felt that heard, perhaps...' Stubbs was shaking his head as he spoke, then he broke off abruptly. The second officer's patience snapped.