On April 10, 1912, nineteen-year-old Elizabeth Collins boards the Titanic as a first-class passenger with her strict mother and gentle father. Unlike her mother, she is a kind and loving person who accepts everyone as one of her own, no matter their...
Elizabeth eventually found her parents in the first-class lounge, already talking up a storm with the chief naval architect, Thomas Andrews.
Her mom always liked being in the high society where everyone could see her, and Elizabeth wanted to roll her eyes at how snobby she was, but she pushed down her annoyance and walked toward them.
When she was close enough, Robert said, "Ah, there you are. Elizabeth, I want you to meet Mr. Thomas Andrews, the person who is responsible for this wonderful ship."
Thomas reached out and shook the young lady's hand with a warm smile.
"It's nice to meet you, Miss Collins."
"You as well," Elizabeth replied while giving a slight curtsey. "You have much to be proud of, Mr. Andrews. Titanic is as strong as she is beautiful."
"Why, thank you," Thomas nodded. "I have no doubt that she will take many adventures around the world."
"Amen to that."
She then turned to her mother and said, "I'm going up to the boat deck. If anyone needs me, I'll be there."
Violet pursed her lips unapprovingly.
"You're going to get your hair and dress all mucked up in that wind."
"Mother, I'll be fine," she sighed. "What's the point of having a boat deck if you are not going to use it?"
She raised her eyebrows at her daughter's slight attitude, but she relented and waved her off like an insect.
Elizabeth nodded her thanks and pressed a kiss onto Robert's cheek.
Her smile was wide as she lifted her skirts and rushed outside, finally free from the restraints of her mother's disapproval.
The salty sea-air was refreshing against her hot skin, and she strode forward so that she could explore Titanic further.
Lined up by the lifeboats were numerous wooden lounge chairs that basked perfectly in the sun.
A few men and women were sitting and reading the daily newspapers, the men lighting a cigar if they felt so keen to.
Elizabeth smiled at the peaceful area and peered over the railing, observing the blue sea below.
Titanic's bow sliced through the water like a sharp knife, and she was amazed at how smooth the ride was, almost as if she were flying.
Elizabeth's eyes then slid over to the large lifeboat next to her, and she furrowed her brows as she took in the size.
It may have been pretty big compared to her petite form, but she felt that the lifeboat was too small.
What if there is an emergency? These will barely hold anyone onboard.
Her thoughts were interrupted, though, when she heard a man calling out for help.
She immediately ran towards the direction of where the voice was coming from and looked for the source.
After a few moments of searching, Elizabeth spotted a man lying unconscious on the wooden floor with a crowd of people around him.
None of them were lending a helping hand, so she shoved her way through and got closer.
"What happened?" she asked, kneeling down by the rather filthy man.
"I don't know, Miss," a man said while emerging from the back. "We just came up from the orlop decks about five minutes ago, and then, he suddenly collapsed on me."
Elizabeth glanced up to see who was speaking, and when she did, her heart sped up uncontrollably:
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She had seen a lot of good-looking men in her life, but nothing compared to the stranger standing before her.
He was well-built with muscular arms and a strong torso; his face was handsome in a somewhat rough way, but his brown eyes seemed to hold a kind soul within.
Judging by the way he was dressed, Elizabeth guessed him and the unconscious man to be third-class passengers.
She snapped herself out of her daze and asked, "Did he seem unwell on the way up here?"
"I'm not sure, Miss," the stranger replied. "We always have a few health issues since we're stokers, but nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary."
Stokers? Elizabeth thought with wide eyes. Those are the brave men at the bottom of the ship.
Aloud, she said, "Let's get him on one of the lounge chairs."
The stranger nodded and hauled the deadweight stoker up by his biceps, practically lifting him over to the chair.
As he moved, the other first-class passengers backed away, acting as if he and his partner were infected rats that were invading the boat deck.
Elizabeth hated the disgusted looks on their faces, and she did her best to ignore them while she came up beside the unconscious man.
"What's his name?" she asked, placing her palm on his forehead.
"Alexander Jacobs," the stranger replied.
"Do you know him to have any health issues?"
"It's like I said before," he responded. "I don't know what underlying problems he may have."
Elizabeth sighed.
"Alright, let me see what I can do for him. Fetch one of the staff members while I try to cool his fever down."
"You got it, Miss."
He then ran off as fast as he could towards the promenade deck.
Focusing her attention on Alexander, Elizabeth retrieved a handkerchief from her pocket and grabbed the small flask of water that she always carried with her.
She dumped the contents on the cloth and gently set it on the man's head.
He stirred slightly and opened his eyes up, muttering an incoherent sentence to her.
"What was that?" she asked, leaning forward to hear him better.
His voice was a mere whisper, but she just made out his words: "Have I gone to Heaven?"
"No, no," she reassured him. "You're alive and safe with me."
"But..." he paused. "You look like an Angel of God."
Elizabeth blushed at Alexander's words and smiled softly at him.
"I'm no Angel, Mr. Jacobs. I am merely a passenger that is concerned for your health."
"You?" he scoffed. "You are far too beautiful to be worried about a rat like me."
"Don't say that," she shook her head. "You're as human as I am, and I take care of those who need it the most."
His expression relaxed, and he reached for her dainty hand in her lap.
She took his with no hesitation whatsoever and rubbed her thumb along his knuckles.
"You'll be fine," she whispered. "I sent your friend off to find help."
