A Battle On The Seas

Chapter One

Tuesday, April 9, 1912

"Father, where are you taking me?" I ask my father, a bundle of nerves tightening in my chest. He looks at me as we cross the quay to his office. The way he's holding himself tells me that he won't reveal what he has in store for this so called 'quick trip' to work, I know to expect as much. As we make our way through people just standing around on the old Belfast Quays to gawk at the magnificent structure that graces our presence, a sense of pride wells up within me. I think about how my father designed her, the 'Pride of Belfast!' and I know that I'm a part of something bigger than I could have ever imagined.

"Ah, Thomas, so glad you could come in on this fine Tuesday morning." A tall man, older than my father, says. His hair is noticeably receding, and his handlebar mustache makes me feel uncomfortable. Even at 15 years old, I'm easily intimidated, so I hide behind my father, my grip on his hand tightens on my father and he wraps his arm around me, to make me know that I'm safe.

"Oh, it's no problem at all, I hear that with our larger, more luxurious answers to the Lusitania and Mauretania, Cunard's backs are up against the wall." Father says. I know exactly what he's talking about. The conversation at hand is about the White Star Line's newest creations, the RMS Olympic and the RMS Titanic. It's all Father ever talks about at home. He used to talk about her sister ship, the Olympic, all the time, but now that Olympic is on her way to being the second most grand ocean liner in service, behind her sister, we have a day with Titanic to honor her and revel in her glory before her maiden voyage on the 10th. They talked for a couple more minutes about the future of the White Star Line before my father ever so gently nudges me out from behind him.

"Mr Ismay, I believe introductions are in order." He says. I come up to barely past my Father's shoulders when I'm not slouching, which is right now. His hands rest gently on my own shoulders.

"And who do I have the honor of meeting, Thomas?" He uses my father's first name, however, I thought that since my Father called him by his last name, Mr. Ismay would do the same for my father, but I don't think that's the case. 

"This is my oldest daughter, Grace Marie Andrews." He motions for me to hold out my hand and I do so compliantly.

"Ah, delighted, Miss Andrews." Mr. Ismay says.

"Charmed to meet you, Mr. Ismay." I say, my Scottish accent, mixed with British and Irish, is fairly masked, however, Ismay looks at me like I'm a weird creature of sorts, but Father never catches it.

"Well, Thomas, I shall see you as soon as we're ready to run her over to Southampton, I trust Grace will be along for the ride." He states. My father nods before parting ways.

"Father, can we go inside it, please?" I ask him adamantly.

"Her," Father corrects me, "and yes, I need to give you the grand tour before we leave for Southampton, and if I know you, you'll want to stay on the ship because you don't like human interaction." He smiled.

"You know me so well, Father." I say to him. He takes my arm in his and leads me to the gangway slip that leads up to the boat deck of the eight-hundred and eighty-two foot long liner that towers before me.

Waiting for us when we make our way to the top of the gangway is none other than Captain Edward John Smith, the one person that I have wanted to talk to since I learned who the crew members for Titanic were going to be. He greets my father and gives him a tour of the improvements and changes made to the design.

"I need to check down in the boiler rooms and see if the.....issue ....is contained." He says to Captain Smith. I'm confused as to what the situation is, but I don't question it.