Titanic: Voyage Of The Damned

Chapter 1: Setting Sail

The din of the smoky tavern rang in Jack's ears as he leaned back in his creaking wooden chair. His fingers nimbly shuffled the worn deck of cards, the movements second nature after years of practice. Across the table, a portly gentleman with a walrus mustache scowled at his dwindling pile of coins and crumpled banknotes.

"Come on now, son," the man wheezed in a thick Cockney accent. "No need to be cleaning me out tonight."

Jack grinned, his blue eyes twinkling with youthful mischief. "Don't worry, I'll leave you enough for a pint on your way out."

The man glowered and tossed two more coins into the modest pot at the center of the table. Jack matched it smoothly and dealt the cards. As he looked at his hand, his pulse quickened. A straight flush, king high in hearts. Not a guaranteed winner, but as close as he could hope for. He schooled his features to remain impassive.

Across from him, the gentleman's meaty fingers fumbled with his cards. Beads of sweat had materialized on his brow. After a moment, he grunted and pushed the remainder of his coins forward.

"All in," he declared gruffly.

Jack raised an eyebrow but did not hesitate to match the bet. He flipped his cards face up with a flourish. The man's shoulders slumped at the sight of Jack's superior hand.

"Bloody hell," he groaned. "Go on then, take it. That's the last of my pay from the shipyards."

As Jack raked in his winnings, a glint of color caught his eye - a corner of paper peeking out from beneath the coins. He pulled it out delicately, eyes widening as he read the flowing script. A ticket for the maiden voyage of the RMS Titanic, setting sail in three days. His mind raced, picturing the magnificent ocean liner he had read so much about. Inside that ticket lay the promise of a new adventure.

"I'll be taking this too, sir," Jack said slowly. "If you please."

The man waved a hand in concession, seemingly unconcerned about forfeiting such a prize. Jack could hardly believe his luck. He, Jack Dawson, a penniless wanderer who had crisscrossed the States by freight train, would be boarding the most celebrated ship in history.

After thanking his disgruntled opponent for the game, Jack sauntered out of the smoky tavern into the cool night air, his prize stashed safely in his threadbare coat. The cobblestone streets of Southampton were quiet, with only a few drunken stragglers ambling about. Jack headed straight for the nearest inn, eager to secure lodgings before the ticket could mysteriously vanish from his possession.

The next two days passed in a blur. When he was not busy preparing for his impending journey, Jack wandered the docks, gazing longingly at the majestic form of the Titanic. She was truly a sight to behold, an embodiment of mankind's ingenuity and relentless pursuit of progress. Every polished rail and freshly painted funnel spoke of boundless luxury and comfort. Jack imagined the grand rooms filled with stylish furniture and decadent trimmings.

Of course, such opulence was not meant for the likes of him. As a third-class passenger, Jack would spend his time crammed below decks with the other unwashed masses. But he didn't mind. The freedom of being cut loose from everything familiar and venturing into unknown realms of possibility was exhilarating. This ship would carry him to a new life.

On the morning of departure, Jack arrived early at the terminal. The crowds grew quickly, thousands jostling for position on the loading ramps. He took in the sights - weeping mothers clinging to their emigrating children, young couples whispering excitedly about their new beginnings, stern-faced businessmen barking orders at harried porters.

After passing a cursory inspection of his ticket, Jack stepped onto the gangway. As he crossed the threshold onto the ship, he felt as if he were stepping into the pages of a Jules Verne novel. This was the future.