Titanic 2020

33 The Olympic

Jimmy wrote another headline for the Times: WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE — AGAIN.

'I don't think that's funny,' said Claire.

Jimmy shrugged. 'What do you think, Ty?'

'Uggggghhhhhhshhhhiiiiiittt,' said Ty, who was throwing up in the bathroom. He had recovered from the Red Death, but now claimed he was dying of seasickness.

'I think he likes it,' said Jimmy. 'And he'll love this one . . .'

Claire looked at the screen.

VOMITING PASSENGERS CREATE NEW WORLD RECORD.

'Jimmy — have you gone mental on me?'

'I thought it was kind of interesting. Jonas Jones tells me that this heap of junk was designed to be environmentally friendly, so no waste gets pumped into the ocean. It's all kept right here. So if this is the biggest cruise ship in the world, and virtually everyone on board has been throwing up nonstop for the past few hours, then I'm certain that we must have broken some kind of world record for the greatest amount of vomit to be found in any one location. Wouldn't you say?'

'You are mental.' .

At that precise moment the lights went out. They were now in complete darkness but for the glow from the battery powered laptop they were using to write and design the Times.

'Have I died?' Ty called from the bathroom.

'Not yet,' said Jimmy. He looked at Claire's ghostly face in the light from the screen. 'They're trying to save power. They did warn us.'

Claire nodded grimly. 'The sea's getting rougher. You can feel it.'

***

They had moved back and forth between the bridge and this temporary newspaper office several times in the past few hours, gathering information as subtly as they could under the watching eyes of the guards. On their last visit Pedroza had recovered sufficiently from his seasickness to have a blazing row with Captain Smith, who wanted to have the passengers standing by to board the lifeboats. Pedroza maintained that no one was going to leave the Titanic until he said so. Captain Smith said they would have to use the lifeboats before all power was lost, because as soon as the engines failed the ship could easily overturn in the high seas. Pedroza finished the argument by holding a gun to the Captain's head and yelling, 'No lifeboats.'

The rain was still lashing the decks as they made their way back to the bridge. Much to their surprise they found it wasn't all doom and gloom, but the scene of sudden and intense activity. Half of Captain Smith's officers had their faces pressed to their computer screens, the others were standing at the front window with binoculars raised, scouring the waves. Pedroza stood with them, anxiously puffing on a cigar. Claire recognized the aroma. She was sure it was one of her dad's. She was just beginning to imagine that Pedroza must have done something awful to him, when she saw Mr Stanford standing just a few metres away, puffing his own cigar and scanning the waves. Last time she'd checked on him he'd been refusing to leave his bedroom, so this was a real surprise. She hurried up and tugged his arm.

'Daddy — what is it?'

'It's the Olympic, Claire!'

'Are you sure?'

'Radar confirms it! Just trying to raise her!' He lowered his glasses for the first time and looked along the line of officers and mutineers scanning the mountainous seas. 'A dozen cigars to the first man who spots her!'

Jimmy didn't know what they were talking about.

Claire turned suddenly and gave him a hug. 'It's fantastic!'

' What is?'

'It's the Olympic! Our sister ship!'

'Our what?'

'Jimmy! Our sister. She was built in Belfast last year! She's slightly smaller — but who cares? Daddy thought the whole fleet was lost — but she's out there . . . and if she has enough fuel we can transfer some and get out of the way of the hurricanes!'

'There she is!' First Officer Jeffers yelled suddenly. 'All lit up like a Christmas tree!' He pointed, and half a dozen sets of binoculars shifted.

'It's her, by God!' cried Mr Stanford. 'We're not finished yet! Look at her, Claire, isn't she beautiful!' He handed Claire his glasses.

It took her just a moment to focus in, and then she let out a little yelp of excitement. 'Look, Jimmy, look!' She passed them on.

Jimmy had to admit the Olympic was a fantastic sight to behold, storming through the waves like . . . he was already thinking of how to write the story . . . like an avenging angel.

'Any contact, Mr Benson?' Captain Smith asked.

'No, sir, not yet, sir!' shouted the young radio operator.

'What course is she making, Mr Jeffers?'

Jeffers quickly returned to his computer screen and studied it intently. 'She's . . . erratic, Captain.'

'She must see us by now! Try raising her again!'

But there was still no response from the Olympic. They tried several different methods of contacting her, but without success. As the two ships drew closer Captain Smith and his crew grew more and more anxious.

'What's wrong?' Pedroza demanded. 'Why are they not responding?'

'Maybe they're sick,' said Jeffers.

Captain Smith nodded grimly.

Pedroza looked from one to the other. 'You are planning something. You've sent secret messages.'

'No,' the Captain responded simply.

Pedroza jabbed the gun at him. 'Then we board her, take her fuel.'

'Impossible,' said Jeffers. 'Not in these conditions.'

Pedroza exploded: 'We have no fuel! We will die here! We must!'

Jeffers shook his head. 'If the Olympic is drifting out of control and we try and get any closer she could smash into us and then we'll both go down. We must keep trying to contact her, and keep our distance for now. That way we have a slim chance of pulling through. Captain?'

Captain Smith continued to examine the brightly-lit ship through his binoculars. Then he slowly lowered them. 'We need the fuel. We'll have to rig up a bosun's chair—'

'Sir, with all due respect — that's madness! Whoever you send, in these conditions, across that distance, it's a death sentence.'

'Mr Jeffers, I understand your concern. But we're already facing a death sentence. Better to go down fighting, don't you think?'

Jeffers glared at him. Yet within a few moments his anger had faded. 'In that case, sir, I'd like to volunteer to go across.'

'I was counting on it,' said Captain Smith.

***

Jimmy gripped the guard rail outside. The rain pounded, the wind howled and the waves, as high as apartment blocks, threatened at any moment to throw the Olympic against the Titanic. Claire, beside him, had to yell to be heard. 'They shoot a rope from . . . here . . . to there and try to make it secure on the other side, then there's like a swing chair he sits in and a pulley system and he slides across . . .'

Jimmy stared at the waves. His hands were numb from just a few moments' exposure to the wind and rain. He yelled back: 'You would have to be . . . really . . . really . . . really mental to try that!'

It is a sad fact that once you say something out loud, it has a habit of coming back and biting you.

Claire and Jimmy were still debating the foolishness of any sane being attempting to take a bosun's chair ride between two giant ships in a hurricane, when First Officer Jeffers somewhat sheepishly called them back to the bridge. He handed them each a cup of coffee and a towel to dry their hair. Then he led them across to Captain Smith, who was back behind his desk. Pedroza, his pistol jammed into his trouser belt, sat on the edge of it, grinning as they approached.

'Claire . . .' Captain Smith began gravely, clasping his hands and leaning forward, 'sometimes compromise is the—'

'Enough!' Pedroza exploded suddenly. He jabbed an angry finger at Jimmy, then moved it to Claire. 'I know you two are responsible for that little rag of a newspaper. You think you're very smart, don't you?'

Jimmy shrugged. Claire looked at the floor.

'When you strike me, little children, I always strike back, and twice as hard. It's just a question of waiting for the right opportunity. And now here it is.' He smiled at them, because he knew what was coming. 'You see, Captain Smith and I do not trust each other. He wants to send this man — Jeffers — and this man — Jones? — to the Olympic to get fuel. But how do I know what they will do when they're over there? Perhaps they will sail away and save themselves. Or find weapons and try to lead a mutiny against me. So I have decided to go with them. I am curious about this Olympic — I might just make it part of my fleet. However, if I do go, what's to stop them cutting the rope when I'm halfway across? Captain Smith promises that his men wouldn't do something as uncivil as that, but I'm not so sure. So we've reached a compromise. I will go to the Olympic on the chair, and you,' he pointed at Claire,'will go across on my lap. No one is going to cut that rope. And you . . .' he nodded at Jimmy, 'will go across with my second in command.'

Claire wasn't having any of it. 'My daddy—'

'Claire,' Captain Smith said bluntly, 'your father agrees.'

She stared at him in disbelief. 'My daddy would never . . .!' She turned to confront him, but Mr Stanford had conveniently left the bridge.

'He has, Claire. If you don't go, we may lose both ships.'

'But what if he loses me?' Claire wailed.

'It would be unfortunate,' said the Captain, 'but we have no choice. Jimmy, what do you say?'

'Does it matter what I say?'

The Captain smiled ruefully. 'Regrettably, no. But I want you both to know that this is the bravest thing you could possibly do. Ordinarily I would never, ever consider putting the lives of children at risk, but this . . . this pirate . . . has given us no alternative. All of our lives depend on it. If you were in the Royal Navy, you would most certainly receive a medal for even attempting this.'

'Gee, thanks,' said Jimmy.