Noir Fan Fiction ❯ Titanic: An Assignment to Remember ❯ Queenstown, Ireland ( Chapter 3 )

Title: Titanic: An Assignment to Remember

Rating: PG13

Disclaimer: I do not own nor was I in any way involved with the creation of Noir. If I were you wouldn't be READING this.

***********

Chapter 3

"We did better today than we did yesterday. We will make a better run of it tomorrow. We will beat the Olympic and get into New York on Tuesday night!"

J. Bruce Ismay

Titanic's lower decks stood in stark contrast to the lavish appointments of the upper decks. This was where the stokers and firemen toiled away in the stifling heat of the boiler rooms. They'd pass the time by singing songs and rattling their shovels about to keep time with the tune. Considering that this was a new ship keeping the furnaces charged required little effort, all that they needed to do was make sure there was a good amount of coal burning within the inferno. There was plenty of time to get in a good song.
Further aft in the massive space designed to house the ships four-story tall reciprocating engines the mood was even more relaxed. The engines were just as new as the boilers and required very little maintenance. The problem for Chief Engineer Bell wasn't the engines but the man who was telling him how to run them. And he wasn't exactly the captain. He stood there in a business suit that provided yet another contrast associated with the ship's lower decks. His hair was short and rather curly while the moustache upon his face was straight and apparently well groomed. The ring finger of his right hand was encircled by a small gold band enscribed with the statement "Be Mindful."
No he wasn't the captain, he was J. Bruce Ismay, the managing director of the White Star Line. Naturally, he was on board to represent the company and at this moment he was doing just that. He had brought a map of the Atlantic shipping lanes with him and was making a point of informing Bell of what speeds he wanted the engines at and when.
"Has the captain signed off on this Mr. Ismay?"
"No, not yet. But I don't see any reason why he should object."
Before Bell could respond the ringing of the engine telemotor receiving a signal from the bridge interrupted him. The brass indicator came to a rest over the STOP command. Noting the signal Bell went ahead and called out the command while following suit by switching his telemotor over to all stop to signal the bridge that the order had been received.
As the engines began to slow to a stop Bell returned to his conversation with Ismay.
"Mr. Ismay, I take my orders from the captain. If you can get his approval on this plan of yours to reach New York on Tuesday night then you will have mine."
Seeing his next course of action Ismay thanked Bell for his time, turned and left making a point of leaving his notated map for Bell to peruse at his leisure.
The tall engines were surrounded by in interconnecting series of catwalks upon which the engine room crew worked to maintain the steady operation of the machinery. One of these catwalks would lead Ismay up to E-deck and onto the crew's passage, better known as "Scotland Road" due to how it ran the full length of the ship.
J. Bruce Ismay was a very good businessman. He was the sort of man who was more than willing to spend money to make things better. Almost half a century ago his father had turned the bankrupt White Star Line into a business that had the capacity to dominate the Atlantic lanes. Now the company was his and he was expected to put up a good fight against such foes as the Cunard Line and their Lusitania and Mauritania, the "Greyhounds of the Atlantic."
The sweeping success of those liners proved to the world that speed was just as important to a passenger as luxury and comfort. This was what was running through Ismay's mind as he made the long trek back up to the passenger areas. Good advertising had turned Titanic into a very well known ship. The world marveled at the largest and most luxurious ship in the world. However, size and luxury was one thing, but the liner's speed was another.
Ismay had had this plan for quite some time. Titanic's sister ship, the Olympic, had set a record when she completed her maiden voyage the year before. In order to convey a sense that the ships of the White Star Line were getting better and better, Ismay would need to show that Titanic was not only larger and more beautiful that Olympic, but that she was faster as well. All Ismay would need to do to accomplish this was to convince Captain E.J. Smith.
Upon reaching the bottom landing of Titanic's grand staircase Ismay took the elevator up to A-deck. The staircase on A-deck was one of the ship's major showpieces, and one of the clearest indicators of Titanic's status as a "floating palace." The basic design was consistent from A-deck all the way down to the D-deck reception room. However, the A-deck landing was something truly magnificent. A bronze cherub stood on the center banister, leading the way up the outwardly curving A-deck landing before splitting off into two separate flights of stairs, one for ascending and the other for descending. All this was topped off with a stunning wrought iron and glass dome whose beauty was magnified by a dazzling crystal chandelier mounted at the apex of the dome.
Ismay, who had grown accustomed to the elegant room, ascended the stairs to the boat deck, noting the decorative clock depicting the classical figures of Honor and Glory crowning Time. "They'll be crowning you soon enough Ismay," he thought to himself. "A wealth of honor and glory is to be had just over the horizon." The clock read a little after 11:30 A.M.
When he finally reached the boat deck, the sight of a long emerald green coast surrounding a large port town greeted Ismay.
Titanic had arrived at her last European stop, the port of Queenstown, Ireland.

Between Titanic's 2nd and 3rd funnels was the compass platform located on the roof of the first class lounge. It was from this elevated position that Mireille spied Ismay at the starboard first class entrance. The chairman of the White Star Line hadn't been difficult to find in the slightest. After her encounter with the ship's designer earlier that morning, Mireille had washed and dressed for breakfast. She'd neglected to wake Kirika for the sake of allowing the girl some rest.
The first class dining saloon was designed in the Jacobean style with all the furnishings in the room painted white save for the much darker carpeting and the chairs with their green leather cushioning. The room ran the full 92 ft. width of the ship. The walls were decorated with large, intricately designed leaden windows through which sunlight shone during breakfast and lunch. During these times the light through the windows gave the room a remarkable glow from the white pillars and arched ceiling.
It was in this room that Mireille first caught sight of the managing director of the White Star Line while enjoying her tomato omelette. Indeed, he was the company's chairman, and he made sure that anyone within hearing distance knew it. Mireille knew right then and there that she wouldn't have any qualms about pulling the trigger for him. The only problem was how? She had yet to determine which room he was staying in. And then there was the whole problem of finding Thomas Andrews and J.P. Morgan.
Photos of Morgan weren't a rare commodity. He was a well-known American financier who had very well taken total control of the railway industry in that country. Not only was his likeness recognizable but he also had a horribly deformed nose, which only added to the ease with which he would stand out of a crowd. Few knew of this due to the fact that he had most of the photos that were taken of him altered. No, Morgan would be very easy to find, it was just a matter of time for him. The only other problem was Mr. Andrews. Ballin hadn't sent along many specifics in regards to him. All he'd sent along was a single 13 year old photograph of a moustached young gentleman in his mid-20's which really had very little bearing on his appearance today.
Unfortunately, Mireille's concentration was broken by the sudden blast of a steam whistle coming from some unknown location. It was then that she lost Ismay in the crowds swarming about the boat deck. Most were either out for a stroll before preparing for lunch or they were here to witness the excitement as the tender from Queenstown arrived.
In fact, a number of boats were ferrying people out to the mammoth liner. Several tenders ferrying steerage passengers out for the start of their journey to a new life in America, the land of opportunity. Other boats were carrying merchants who were looking forward to doing business with the wealthy first class passengers, while at the same time not looking forward to having to deal with the crew whom they had to pay by the minute for their stay onboard.
Figuring most prominently among the merchants boarding around noon that Thursday were those who were selling fine Irish lace. Carrying intricately woven items ranging from clothing right up to banquet sized table cloths, they boarded carrying their merchandise whose price could go up to hundreds of dollars. Colonel Astor purchased his wife a bed jacket made of the expensive material. The small bit of clothing cost the wealthiest man onboard $800.00.

With Ismay long gone, and with no real interest in what the merchants were selling, Mireille decided to return to her stateroom to check up on Kirika. Taking the staircase down to B-deck she entered the corridor immediately on her left. Mireille had made a habit, up to this point, of memorizing how many doors down their room was. All the rooms aft of the parlour suite were marked by deep depressions in the wall leading to the stateroom door. Heading down the long, white painted corridor she first passed the long flat stretch that marked the suite. Immediately afterwards she passed two stateroom doors before arriving at the depression that marked B63.
Sunlight streamed in through the opened curtains when Mireille entered to find Kirka gone and their bed made. Walking further into the room, for a brief moment Mireille wondered as to where Kirika could have gone until she heard the sound of a door in the corridor behind her opening. Turning to greet her partner, Mireille found a Kirika who looked, in appearance, to be in mourning. A terribly plain, black dress covered her thin body. Times like these it was strikingly obvious how clueless Kirika was about fashion. It didn't help that Mireille had never taken the initiative to purchase her any clothing other than the few bits she had when they met.
"Good morning, how did you sleep? Well, I hope."
Kirika nodded in the affirmative. "Did you find where 'they' are staying?"
"No, not yet. Its a big ship it probably could take a while to find out," Mireille stated as she slumped down at the desk. "I'd say we have about a week till we reach New York, that gives us plenty of time to find them and work out a plan. But, for now onto more pressing matters like what you'll be wearing. I know you thought you could wear that for the whole trip," she said while gesturing towards Kirika's drab dress. "You may have gotten away with that in Paris, but you won't here."
Kirka briefly looked down at her outfit and then back towards Mireille with a questioning look on her face. No doubt she wondered what was wrong with what she was wearing as well as what Mireille could do about it.
Mireille thought for a moment. Shipboard life was a very social experience, unless you remained in your room for the duration of the voyage, which was not an option in this case. Mireille knew very well that none of her outfits would fit the girl. No, she'd have to settle for buying one for Kirika. After all, there were plenty of merchants onboard selling plenty of items. Right now it was 12:15 P.M. Lunch would start in 45 minutes, and Titanic wouldn't depart from Queenstown for a half hour beyond that. That left plenty of time.
"Well, I suppose I'll just have to buy you one. Consider it a gift. And I wouldn't dare ask you to help pay for a gift. Now come along, I'll help you pick it out.
As they were about to head up to the promenade deck to locate the proper merchant Kirika took Mireille aside and quietly said, "there's something I need to do first." It was all she said as she walked down the corridor towards the B-deck landing of the staircase.

As Kirika headed down the steps to C-deck she had no idea what to think about Mireille's sudden gesture. In truth, she looked up to Mireille, she was the best thing that had ever happened to Kirika. Back in Japan she had endured for quite some time, but she had always been so alone. She had been deposited in a life she knew nothing about, nor cared to know anything about. Not now, though. She was happy with Mireille. Maybe she didn't show it very often, but it was true. In fact, any sign from Mireille that this feeling was reciprocated, no matter how small, made her feel as though she were walking on air.
Kirka waited at the landing on C-deck for the sound of Mireille's footsteps to reach her before continuing. "Now, where are you going exactly," Mireille called from the stairs.
"I found a way to solve our problem last night while going over the plans," Kirika said as she continued to the left of the stairs heading towards a small door on the opposite side of the room. Atop the door's frame were written in gold letters the words "ENQUIRY OFFICE."
The Enquiry Office was designed to mimmick the William and Mary design of the grand staircase with similar wooden paneling and tiled floor. The walls were plastered with posters about any number of topics from scheduling a game of shuffle board to making an appointment with the ship's professional raquet player. The purser was in a way like the manager of a hotel. He would handle any problems a passenger may encounter and also help with any arrangements they may need. The purser on duty at this time of day stood behind a counter writing a few notes on a ledger.
"Good afternoon miss, how may I help you," he said in Mireille's direction while looking up from his work.
"I was wondering if you could tell us which cabins certain people are staying in," Kirika said.
The purser, as if noticing Kirika for the first time responded, "I'm sorry but I can't just give out information like that. Can I help you with anything else?"
"Please, we only want to know the rooms for Mr. Ismay, Mr. Morgan, and Mr. Andrews. We do need to know who to complain to when something goes wrong now, don't we," Mireille continued.
"Allright," the purser said as he stepped away from the counter and vanished into the office behind him. "Consider it a favor, because this will only happen once, " he continued as he returned to view carrying a large leather bound book.
"Now, I take it that its Mr. Thomas Andrews that you want. If so he's in room A36. Mr. Ismay is in the parlour suite which takes up rooms B52, 54, and 56. And Mr. Morgan is innnn......hold on. It says here that he's in the same room as Mr. Ismay but that can't be right." The purser thought for a moment before his eyes widened with sudden realization. "Now I remember, Mr. Morgan was supposed to board yesterday in Southampton but I'm afraid he had to cancel at the last minute to the room passed to Mr. Ismay. I'm sorry, but two people to complain to about your problems should be enough. Will there be anything else?"
"No thankyou, but do you happen to know why Mr. Morgan cancelled." Mireille asked with curiousity.
"I'm afraid his man wouldn't give a reason for the cancellation. Its a shame too, I imagine he wanted to be here. It certainly would've been nice to see someone bossing Mr. Ismay around for a change. I know he has some ownership of the Titanic, but still he acts like he's a member of the crew, a captain even when he's really just a passenger."
Kirika was the one who thanked him as they left with the names and rooms of the two availabe targets written on a piece of stationary. The purser's reaction to Kirika hadn't been blatant, but it had been enough to dampen her spirits. Sadly, although this was a time of great technological advancement, it was also a time of a firm and loudly voiced opinion of the superiority and courage of the Anglo-Saxon race.
"I really should thank you for that, you saved us both a great deal of trouble," Mirielle said happily. "Now why don't we go buy you that dress," she continued with a more than tangible smile.
Kirika nodded and smiled back.