Titanic Bound by Destiny

Chapter 23: A Final Farewell

April 15th, 1912. (1:35 Am)

On the boat deck of the Titanic, a chilling picture of human desperation and fear unfolded under the dimming electric lights. The ship's deck was a maelstrom of activity as crew members, their voices strained with urgency, shouted orders and passengers, their vulnerability stark, scrambled to find their loved ones and secure a place in the lifeboats. The biting cold of the North Atlantic did not subdue; the temperature was barely above freezing. Women, many still in their nightgowns with shawls hastily thrown over their shoulders, were ushered towards the lifeboats. Some resisted, not wanting to leave their husbands or to step into what they saw as precarious little boats suspended over a dark, unfathomable ocean. Children cried, confused and frightened by the commotion, clinging to their mothers or being passed from hand to hand as they were loaded into the lifeboats. Many had no choice about going into the lifeboats; many were pulled away from their fathers and passed to someone in the lifeboats.

Men, forced to stay behind, reached out with desperate hands, their faces etched with pain and fear as they said final goodbyes to their families. Many promised to see them again in the morning, but many now realised these were promises that could not be kept. Nicholas watched, his heart aching as a father tried to smile reassuringly at his crying children, promising them everything would be all right, even as his eyes brimmed with tears. Sebastian squeezed Nicholas's hand tightly, pulling him slightly back as a crew member rushed past, guiding a group of elderly women to the next available boat. The crew's faces were masks of professional calm, but their eyes betrayed the strain of the disaster unfolding around them. They all knew Titanic's life was slowly but surely fading around them. Some passengers believed they would return on Titanic in a few hours, in time for breakfast. Some refused to acknowledge what was happening around them, forced into an unbroken silence by the chaos of the events around them.

Below deck, the situation was deteriorating rapidly. The icy water surged through the crew's quarters on E-deck, upending bunks and submerging personal belongings. Photographs, letters from loved ones, and personal mementoes floated in the frigid water. As the water levels rose, it spilt into Scotland Road, the corridor that served as the artery of the ship. The absence of sufficient bulkheads or barriers allowed the water to spread quickly, gaining ground with terrifying speed. This unchecked water flow was a critical blow to the ship's integrity, hastening the Titanic's descent into the depths. Back on the deck, the dimming of the ship's lights was now noticeable, casting eerie shadows and adding to the growing sense of doom. The once bright and opulent Titanic was losing its life force, its lights flickering as power ebbed from its engines.

As the situation aboard the Titanic rapidly deteriorated, the crew resorted to firing distress rockets into the dark, starry sky. Each brilliant flare that shot upwards was a silent scream for help, illuminating the night for a fleeting moment before fading into the blackness of the Atlantic. On deck, more lifeboats were being hurriedly lowered, each launch a race against time as the Titanic continued its relentless descent into the icy waters. The speed of her descent increased with every second. Below decks, the destruction wrought by the flooding was catastrophic. The sheer force of the water overwhelmed the ship's lower compartments, turning corridors into violent torrents. Walls that had once stood solid and immovable were now crushed and splintered like kindling under immense pressure. Doors meant to offer privacy and protection were smashed open or torn from their hinges, allowing water to surge through the ship with terrifying speed and power.

Inside the cabins, the effects of the tilt were devastating. Cupboards that had held personal belongings and precious valuables burst open, their contents spilling into the cabins. Glasses and fine China shattered upon impact with the hard surfaces, covering the floors with debris and sharp fragments. Beds that had once provided rest and comfort now became unmoored projectiles. They ripped themselves from free their frames with the screws wrenched loose, slamming into walls with force. Chairs neatly tucked under tables and wardrobes filled with clothes toppled and slid across the rooms. The second-class library, a haven of tranquillity just hours before, was transformed into a scene of utter destruction. Shelves lined with books on literature, history, and science could no longer hold their burden as the ship listed further. Once neatly arranged, the books began to cascade across the floor, tumbling in a chaotic avalanche of paper and leather.

Amidst the panic and fear, Nicholas had held onto a fleeting hope, a belief that somehow, against all odds, he and Sebastian could escape together. They moved among the crowd, at times together, at times separated by the swell of panicked passengers, but constantly reconnecting, drawn to each other in their shared desperation. The stark reality of their situation became painfully clear. He realised that the logistics of both of them securing a spot on a lifeboat together and surviving chaos were nearly insurmountable. The Titanic's bow was now precariously angled toward the sea, the final moments before it would disappear beneath the icy waters growing imminent. Nicholas and Sebastian, hand in hand, navigated the steeply tilting deck, each step more perilous than the last as despair threatened to engulf Nicholas. It seemed as if fate was about to take both of their lives when they saw the figure of First Officer William Murdoch, who was frantically managing the loading of Lifeboat 11. It meant nothing to Nicholas, his hope fading fast, but it was a chance to act for Sebastian.

Marked by fatigue and the immense pressure of the moment, Murdoch directed women and children into the lifeboat with a firm but gentle hand. His voice, though strained, carried the authority and calm needed in such pandemonium. Here, amidst the desperate crowd, Sebastian seized a fleeting opportunity to speak with the officer. His voice was urgent, each word laden with hope and the heavy realisation of the likely outcomes. Between the cries of the people and the groans of Titanic's dying moments, Nicholas could not tell what was being said. Nicholas watched, his heart caught between hope and despair, as Sebastian. Murdoch, faced with the impossible task of prioritising lives, maintained his composure, and his decisions were a testament to his dedication. When Sebastian returned to Nicholas, his face was etched with a profound sadness and determined resignation.

"He's given you a spot in the boat," Sebastian informed Nicholas, his voice breaking with emotion. The decision was a stark reminder of their situation—only one could go, and Sebastian, without any input from him, had chosen to sacrifice himself to save Nicholas. The thought of leaving Sebastian was unbearable to Nicholas, and a wave of sadness washed over him as he immediately protested, his voice thick with emotion. "I can't leave you here," he insisted, his hands gripping Sebastian's with desperate strength. He had only just found him; he had only just broken free from the chains of his anxiety. He would not leave Sebastian here to die. Sebastian's response was loving and firm, his nature to serve and protect shining to the bitter end. "You must. It's your chance to survive. Promise me you'll live, Nicholas, For Me," he urged, pushing him gently toward the lifeboat. Nicholas looked at him in horror; he had pictured a future alone for so long, but Sebastian had changed that, and now it was being taken away.

Nicholas took one last look over the boat deck; the rules of society were breaking apart, first-class mingled with second and third in a desperate clash to survive. Chaos was starting to grip Titanic as her groans grew ever louder. Nicholas gripped Sebastian tightly as his gaze turned to the lifeboat. "This is your chance, Nicholas. For me, I will find another way," Sebastian said, his voice steady but his eyes betraying his fear. The conversation was heart-wrenching, filled with unspoken words and suppressed emotions. Eventually, Nicholas's resolve wavered under the weight of Sebastian's plea and the reality of their situation; if he did not go, he would die here on this doomed liner. Reluctantly, he agreed to board the lifeboat. In one Final Act of Love, Sebastian handed Nicholas a sealed letter. "Open this when the time is right," he instructed. "Remember everything we shared."

With a heavy heart, Nicholas stepped into Lifeboat 11. As the boat was lowered into the dark, cold Atlantic, he turned to look back at Sebastian one last time. The sight of Sebastian's brave smile amidst the chaos was etched into his memory—a poignant, painful image that would haunt him forever. It was the last time he would see Sebastian; he would not survive the night. Out of all those, he had met on Titanic. Only two would survive. Heartly, Conner, Johanas, Basil, and Murdoch would perish as Titanic foundered. As the lifeboat drifted away from the sinking liner, Nicholas clutched the letter from Sebastian close, the last connection he had to the man he loved and the promise he had made. The memory of Murdoch's heroic efforts and Sebastian's selfless act fortified him, imbuing his survival with a purpose defining his subsequent path in life.