Titanic: Voyage Of The Damned

Chapter 11: Pursuit of the Supernatural

 The salty sea air filled Jack's lungs as he leaned against the ship's railing, gazing out at the slate gray waves. The clouds hanging low on the horizon matched his brooding mood. He could still feel the chill that had seeped into his bones when he and Rose had read the late Captain Smith's journal. The unnatural events that plagued the Titanic's doomed voyage now seemed less coincidence and more sinister design.

Rose emerged from their cabin, two cups of hot tea in hand. She offered Jack a cup and a brave smile. He took it gratefully, wrapping his free hand around hers. No words needed to be said about the weight on both of their minds.

"We'll get to the bottom of this, Rose," Jack finally said, determination in his eyes. "Whatever evil is behind the sinking, we'll make it pay."

Rose squeezed his hand, sharing his resolve. Since surviving the Titanic, they had already battled so much. This demon now haunting their dreams would be yet another monster to slay.

Jack took a long draught of tea, gathering his thoughts. "We need to start tracking down anyone knowledgeable about what we might be up against. Research paranormal events around shipwrecks. Find Titanic historians who may know things not recorded in the papers. If Captain Smith learned something that doomed the ship on an earlier voyage, there may be more people with missing pieces of the puzzle."

Rose nodded thoughtfully. "Many survivors made New York their new home. There are bound to still be some here with stories left untold."

Their course was set. As soon as they docked, Jack and Rose plunged into New York's bustling streets. They sought out seaport bars and universities, anywhere sailors, scholars and mediums may congregate. An eccentric art professor claimed clairvoyance visions related to great disasters. A graduate student had extensively studied the Titanic mythology. A retired ship captain recalled sailor friend's eerie stories from Atlantic crossings past. Slowly they started stitching together a patchwork of sinister threads.

Witness recollections ranged from sea creatures ramming ships to ghosts seen dancing on the waves to men driven insane overnight by unseen forces. Each new account made clearer something malevolent lurking in the icy Atlantic depths. Jack's artist sketches brought the descriptors alive – leering beasts with crystalline fangs and empty glowing eyes. Rose had to avert her gaze, his drawings edged too close to shadowy figures haunting her dreams.

Late one fog-veiled night at a waterfront pub, an ancient mariner with wild gray hair and one milky eye waved them over to his table. José was stained and weatherbeaten from decades squaring off against Neptune's whims. When he heard what Jack and Rose sought, his face grew grave.

"Ay, the Kraken be real enough," he warned. "Saw the beast myself as a young cabin boy. Many a ship it takes, cracking hulls like nutshells in its tentacles' grip. Them that survives wish they hadn't, driven mad by horrors no mortal mind can stand."

Rose felt her skepticism rising as José described scales, hooked arms, giant black eyes. She had expected tales more ghost than squid. Before she could object, Jack's boot toe tapped hers under the table. His expression warned patience.

"Have you witnessed any... paranormal manifestations with these attacks?" Jack asked carefully. "Things beyond physical explanation?"

José rubbed his scruffy chin, pondering. The lone lamp at their table cast his craggy face in flickering shadows. "Ay, strange lights, odd sounds before disaster. Men babbling nonsense or throwing themselves to their death without clear cause." His voice dropped, as though fearing nearby ears. "Some who survived later took their own life on land. Raving to their last of demons plaguing their dreams."

Rose met Jack's sober gaze. The common threads were clear. Men left intentional vague in José's telling perhaps shields him from the stark reality. That whatever evil shrouded their own past had likely claimed other vessels before and since. How many hundreds lost were just myriad faces of the same eldritch force?