The train jostled and bounced on the tracks. But Sarah hardly sat still enough to notice it. She kept looking down at the ring on her finger then out the window at the passing scenery–farms and green hills had recently given way to gray buildings under an overcast sky. Every so often, her gaze landed on her husband–her new husband–and she laughed. They had married only the previous day and she could hardly contain her happiness. She had never before felt as though she had everything she could ever wish but, at that moment, that feeling was close at hand.
The only sign that John had noticed her excitement was the smile on his lips. He sat across from her, reading the paper. One foot rested against his wife's leg. Occasionally, he gave her the slightest of nudges, nearly imperceptible to the two other passengers in their train car. "Would you listen to this," he said, holding up the paper to better see it in the light from the window. "It is not only in size but also in the luxury of her appointments that the Titanic takes first place among the big steamers of the world," he said in a captivating voice. "By the provision of Vinolia Otto Toilet Soap for her first-class passengers the Titanic also leads as offering a higher standard of Toilet Luxury and comfort at sea." He laughed and set the paper down. "Well, thank goodness for that. If you're paying $4,000 for a cabin, you shouldn't settle for less than the highest standard of toilet luxury. First class bottoms are delicate, after all."
"Oh, let me see." Sarah took the paper from him and looked at the advertisement "Hm. No mention of second class." She looked at the paper closer, noting the picture of the ocean liner and the smaller pictures on each corner. "Is that the famous Turkish bath? Do we get to use it?" She had heard a great deal about the famous Turkish baths and had always wanted to try one.
"I'm afraid not. They're first class only. If we're early enough we can try out the gymnasium. And at least we will get to enjoy our own library."
"Are we early enough?"
John pulled out his pocket watch and looked at it a moment before returning it to his pocket. "Doesn't look like it. Oh, that's unfortunate."
"Oh," she replied, folding up the newspaper and handing it back to her husband. "Well, this will still be fun."
Sarah looked back out the window at the passing buildings. Everything was moving so quickly. It was only two weeks ago that she and John were nothing more than correspondents, exchanging letter after letter, reminding each other of the days when they were mere sweethearts before he moved to America to make his fortune. And now here she was, on her way to join him but now as his wife. His wife!
"You know what I'm looking forward to, Mrs. Clarke?" He asked, calling his wife by her married name and breaking her out of her thoughts.
"What is that?" She grinned. Hearing herself referred to as a Mrs. gave her a slight thrill. It had been so long coming that she had nearly given up its possibility entirely. The title felt like a dream.
John gave the other passengers in their car a sideways glance before looking back at his wife. He raised his eyebrows.
She could feel the blush creep over her cheeks. "John," she said, looking at the two other people who were both doing a fantastic job at pretending to be deaf.
"Sarah," he replied. He glanced out the window and suddenly sat up straighter. "We're here."
She turned to the window, her heart racing with excitement. Sure enough, a long low building was pulling near, its black letters announcing that it was the Southampton Ocean Terminal. She couldn't help but feel another thrill at the thought of finally setting foot on the ship that would take her to her new life. On the other side of the terminal sat the Titanic , its funnels towering over the building and its sleek black hull gleaming in the light of day. Sarah had never been on a ship before, and she felt a sense of wonder at the sight of such a magnificent vessel. She had heard so much about the famous ocean liner. Seeing it in person was more impressive than she had ever imagined.
"Our home for the next week," John said. "Isn't she beautiful?"
Sarah could only nod.
~~~
The Platform tavern was packed to the rafters with men drinking and gambling, their rough voices and raucous laughter filling the air. Most of the patrons were dockhands and off-duty seamen, their weather-beaten faces and calloused hands a testament to the hard work they did on a daily basis. But there were also a few passengers milling about, their eagerness and nervous excitement setting them apart from the rest. These were the ones who had tickets to board the Titanic , and they were making sure to wolf down a quick breakfast and double-check their tickets before the ship set sail. They certainly didn't want to be late for such an important occasion.
A cloud of smoke hung about their heads, obscuring the thick, wooden beams that held up the ceiling. It was a rough-and-tumble place, with a no-nonsense atmosphere that was a far cry from the genteel surroundings of the ship they were heading to. But despite the chaos and noise, all eyes were drawn to the front window, where the dock and the great Titanic could be seen in the distance. The massive ocean liner overshadowed everything else, a testament to its grandeur.
At one small round table in the middle of the room, four men were engrossed in a game of poker. A pile of money sat in the center of the table as they had been playing for some time.
You crazy? You bet all we have." Fabrizio shook his head. He looked down at his own cards and frowned.
Jack glanced at his friend. "Maybe I am crazy." A grin flickered across his lips.
His friend didn't return it. He never liked hustling poker as too much fell to chance. But he couldn't deny that they had often been lucky before. That must come from his friend, the always lucky Jack. He had certainly never felt so lucky by himself. "You lose my money..." The words were well-rehearsed.They had said them often enough and they were always the same. And they always worked.
The two Swedes looked at each other–Fabrizio thought they might've been brothers...they certainly looked alike– and then Olaf, the larger one, reached into his pockets and pulled out the tickets. He tossed them onto the pile.
He looked at those tickets and held his breath. His entire life he had dreamed of going to America–the great land of opportunity and fortune–and there was his dream, right there on the table in front of him. So close, he nearly smelled it. It took everything he had to stop himself from reaching out for those tickets right then and there.
"Hit me, Sven." Jack took the card and slipped it into his hand.
Sven took a card as well. For the briefest moment that felt like an eternity, they all stared at each other, trying to read each other's cards through the back of them.
"Alright, call."
Three of them placed their cards down on the table.
Jack read them off. "Two pair...don't know if I can beat that. I'm sorry, Fabrizio."
Sven reached forward to take the pile of money.
"What sorry?" Fabrizio turned toward his friend. "Ma va fa'n culo testa di cazzo..."
"Except I can." Jack threw down his cards. A wild grin spread across his face. "Full house. We're going to America!"
The two Swedes stared at them with shock written plain on their faces. They looked at the cards on the table and then at each other.
Fabrizio laughed as he gathered up the money while Jack grabbed the two tickets.
"Skitstövel! Ni lurade oss!" Olaf sprang to his feet. His chair fell backward with a loud thud and he pounded his fists on the table. Everyone in the tavern turned to stare and the room fell silent.
As if on cue, Jack grabbed the edge of the table and tipped it toward the Swedes. Cards and glasses and what little money remained went flying with a loud crash.
While their opponents were picking themselves up, Jack and Fabrizio flew out the door and away from the angry shouts that followed them and into the crowded waterfront.
"I hate that you do this," Fabrizio called to his friend. The crowd had only seemed to grow larger as it grew later in the day and closer to the ship's departure. It took everything he had to weave through the crowd of people and the cars and wagons and still keep his friend in sight.
"Do what?" Jack grinned back at him. He stopped suddenly and stared up at the ship's hull looming seven stories over them. "Whoa," he said breathlessly.
"Jack!" Fabrizio tugged his arm, breaking him out of his reverie. "She go soon."
"Right."
They reached the bottom of the gangway just as the last of the third class passengers were venturing up it.
"Like I tell you," Fabrizio said. "L'America is my destiny." He looked down the side of the gangway over the railing at the dark water lapping against the side.
"America is everyone's destiny," Jack replied, trying to catch his breath.
They reached the doorway where a man in uniform waited to check their boarding passes and tickets. "Tickets?" He said, holding out his hand.
"Here," Jack said, handing over their tickets.
The clerk read them carefully, his brow furrowing as he came across their names. "Gunderson and ... Gunderson?" He eyed them both suspiciously.
"Yeah," Jack said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "We're brothers."
Fabrizio nodded, trying to keep a straight face.
The clerk looked unconvinced but after a moment's hesitation, he handed the tickets back and waved them through. "Oh, alright then. Come aboard," he said gruffly.
"Come on, Sven," Jack called back to Fabrizio as they pushed their way through the door and into the corridor.
"Why I am Sven?" Fabrizio asked as he tried to keep up with Jack's long stride.
"Would you rather be Olaf?" Jack said with a grin.
"I rather be Fabrizio."
Fabrizio couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement as they boarded the ship. He was finally on his way to America and nothing could possibly stop him.
~~~
"Oh, how wonderful!" Sarah knew that she had been saying some iteration of the same sentiment from the moment they set foot on the ship but she couldn't help herself. It was wonderful and marvelous and like something from a dream. The clean wood planking of the enclosed promenade gave way to the bright white and black tiles of the corridors, creating a stark contrast that was both visually striking and a bit disorienting. The crisp white walls seemed to stretch on forever, giving the impression that the ship was endless. Sarah trailed a hand along one of the walls, half expecting her fingertips to come away painted white, so new did everything seem.
As they made their way down two flights of stairs and down one corridor and then another, Sarah tried to keep track of the turns, but one hallway looked like another and she soon gave up.
"Here we are." John said, stopping before a door. He opened it and held it open. "After you, my dear."
In Sarah's eyes the room was magnificent. She stood in the doorway simply absorbing everything until her husband nudged her into the room. "Are you sure we haven't found ourselves in first class by mistake?" She asked. She couldn't imagine that the glossy white walls and rich mahogany furniture were for them.
John laughed. "This is second class. I wish I could afford first for you. You deserve the private promenades and parlors and all the luxury toilet soap in the world."
She thought of the advertisement and laughed as well. "My bottom is not as delicate as that."
"Is it not?" He placed a gentle smack on her backside.
"Stop that." She moved to the dressing table and looked at herself in the mirror. It had been a long journey by train and she was certain that she must look dreadful. She ran a finger along the white feather that adorned the top of her hat. She had once seen a photograph of the Countess of Rothes in The Bystander and she stared at it for such a long time that she could've sworn she saw it move. Even in black and white, she had never seen such elegance before from the young woman's bead trimmed dress to the white ostrich feathers that adorned her delicately perched hat. Sarah didn't own a hat that was nearly so beautiful and none of her dresses were embroidered in beads.
But she had a white ostrich feather. John brought her the feather on the day he returned to Cornwall.
"Mrs. Clarke," her husband said as he wrapped his hands around her from behind.
She leaned back against him, feeling the warmth of his embrace. "John," she replied. She turned in his arms to face him. "We don't have time."
"Of course we do," he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Everyone knows that time doesn't pass while you're at sea."
"We're not at sea yet," she pointed out.
"There's water beneath us," he countered, brushing a loose strand of hair away from her face.
"That's not the sea."
"It is so," he insisted, a playful smile on his lips.
"I'm not going to argue with you." She tilted her chin up, expectantly.
"Who's arguing?" He whispered the words as he leaned in. His lips met hers and...
The door swung open with a bang and they jumped apart.
"Here it...OH." An elderly woman stood in the doorway, one hand on the doorknob and the other shielding her eyes.
Sarah put her hands behind her. She was certain that her face radiated heat. She glanced at her husband who stared at the new arrival with a mixture of both irritation and amusement on his face.
"Is this room E-88?" The woman asked, examining them between her fingers.
"It's E-86."
"Are you certain?"
"Quite. It says it right there above the door." John reached for Sarah's arm but she pulled it back.
"Oh." The woman peered at the oval plaque above her, taking far too long to read the numbers. "Oh, so it does. E-86. My apologies. It seems as though I am in the wrong room. Well." She smacked the door frame with a hand, her ring making a sharp clack as it struck the wood. "I won't bother you any longer." She paused as she stared at them. "You two are married?"
"As of yesterday. This trip is our honeymoon." He held up his own hand to show the ring on his finger.
"Well, congratulations." Still, she hesitated in the doorway.
"Thank you," John said promptly. "I'm sure we will be underway quite soon."
"Yes, yes." She looked around the room, taking in their meager luggage, her eyes lighting on Sarah. "Well, I suppose I'll be going now. Need to find my room in this labyrinth of a ship. Good day." At last, she turned and exited down the corridor, her voice still carrying back to them. "Never a steward when you need one. Much too large. Absolutely absurd..."
John turned back to his wife and laughed. "That lovely woman is our neighbor."
Sarah darted forward and shut the door before the woman could change her mind. "Just lovely. Do you think we'll see much of her?"
"Most assuredly." He shrugged. "But who knows...maybe she'll fall overboard."
"Oh, you are terrible." She playfully swatted at him. "I want to see the ship leave."
"Then let's go before our neighbor decides to chaperone us."
"She wouldn't?" Sarah was aghast at the thought.
John shrugged again. "She might."
They looked at each other for a moment before they both raced to the door, pushing each other through it and into the corridor in a fit of laughter.
~~~
"It's over 800 feet long, 175 feet high. It has squash courts, a Parisian café and even Turkish baths. It's unlike anything that's ever been built," Cal spoke proudly as though he were the one to single handedly build the ship himself. "With carpet so luxurious you could sink up to your knees in it. The Olympic doesn't even have that."
"That sounds rather uncomfortable," Ruth said. She was the model of politeness as she nodded along to every word he said.
They passed through the gangway door and entered a large, open area filled with other first class arrivals, all looking as though they belonged to such an opulent space. The linoleum floor beneath their feet gleamed under the soft glow of the crystal electroliers, which hung from the ceiling like sparkling jewels. The room was paneled in warm, honey-colored wood, with wooden pillars carved in the Ionic style standing tall like soldiers.
They paused before the great staircase. Cal ran a hand over the smooth wood of the carved handrail, marveling at the craftsmanship that had gone into creating such a breathtaking space. He looked at Rose, convinced that the gilded balustrades and wrought iron railings would move her at last.
Instead she rolled her eyes. "It's gaudy and over-the-top," she said.
A passing steward made a humph noise and cast her a dirty look that quickly turned apologetic once he realized who had spoken.
"There is nothing wrong with a bit of opulence," Cal replied. "If you can afford it." He thought of the $4,500 suite he bought for them and hoped it also wasn't too much for her tastes. His father had certainly thrown a fit when he heard. 'Millionaires who throw their money about don't remain millionaires for long,' he had said, or rather yelled. Cal was only thankful he didn't also know about the multitude of paintings he purchased for Rose—horribly ugly paintings of people who weren't assembled quite right—or the necklace that was currently burning a hole in his safe.
But, then again, his father never liked the match in the first place and spoke out against it. The Dewitt-Bukaters were nothing more than gold diggers after him only for the money he would one day inherit. Whether that was true or not—and he had heard the rumors about their lost fortune as did everyone else in high society—it didn't matter to him. Rose was beautiful with her fiery red hair and feisty personality, different from the other socialites he met on a daily basis. While the others were the same cookie cutter image of genteel politeness and accomplishment, she stood alone. Cal who had been brought up on the best of everything, who had been denied nothing, saw her as the rarest gem to be collected, polished, and displayed.
That first day they met, Rose blew the smoke from her cigarette into his face and laughed at him. He hadn't been able to stop thinking about her since.
"I just don't see what all the fuss is about. It seems ridiculous to me to get worked up over the number of rivets or the existence of a bit of carpet."
"Rose," her mother warned in a quiet voice.
Cal frowned. "I never said a word about rivets...never mind." He had been so sure that Rose would find the ship impressive. He certainly found it impressive. It was nothing short of an engineering marvel. Anyone who failed to appreciate such a construction must have been dead inside. Or they were Rose, the woman who loved to be contrary.
"Well, even if you find nothing to appreciate with the ship itself, wait until you see our rooms."
"Are they solid gold?" Rose asked. There was a note of derision in her voice that he ignored.
"No. I don't think so. But we have our own private promenade and a fireplace."
"A fireplace on a ship?" Ruth laughed. "That sounds rather dangerous to me."
"I'm sure everything's well in hand," he reassured her. "I doubt we have to worry about fire."
"There's still the icebergs," Rose said, almost wishfully. She drifted away from them in the direction that the steward was pointing without a look back to see if they were following.
"Has she always been—" Cal whispered to Ruth.
"Since the day she was born," Ruth replied.
~~~
"Right there." Jack said, pointing to a spot on the dock below. "There they are. Would you look at them?" He laughed. "They look angry. I wonder what they're shouting."
Fabrizio leaned against the railing and felt the stiff breeze in his face. His eyes scanned the crowded dock below. It seemed like everyone in Southampton had turned out to watch the Titanic set sail for the first time and the noise and commotion was overwhelming. But he couldn't spot Sven and Olaf who, if they were there, blended in with the great mass of people.
He shrugged. "That they miss us."
"Their money, more like." Jack laughed again.
"And their tickets."
"They shouldn't have bet them if they didn't want to lose them."
The first two funnels of the Titanic began to whistle–their noise joining that of the band playing on the forward deck, signaling that it was time to depart. Suddenly, the ship started to move, coming to life as it pulled away from the dock. At first, the movement was almost imperceptible, but as the bow turned out to sea, the water between the ship and Southampton grew wider and wider.
A sudden chorus of shouts rose from the people crowded along the railing as a nearby moored ship snapped her lines with a loud crack like gunfire and began to drift towards them, as if being pulled by an unseen hand. The Titanic drew to a stop as the other ship crept closer and closer. Everyone held their breath and waited to see what would happen.
At last, two tugs raced out and caught the errant ship, pulling it to safety. After another pause, the great ocean liner was away once again, its engines coming to life as it set off on its journey. Throughout all of this, the band never stopped playing, filling the air with a lively and upbeat tune.
"Exciting, no?" Fabrizio said with a grin, turning to Jack. Seven days, he thought to himself. Seven days until America.
Seven days until his life changed.
~~~
Rose sat up straight, no part of her touching the backrest of her chair. Her ankles were crossed beneath her dress. She held a delicate teacup just close enough to her face that she could feel the warm steam drifting off it. She wasn't really drinking the tea except every time someone directed a comment at her. Then, she'd hold up a finger and take a slow, long drink until the conversation moved onto someone else. Over her seventeen years, she had perfected the art of avoiding unpleasant and dull conversations which were most conversations in her life.
Instead, she looked around the room. The First Class Lounge was impressive...even she couldn't deny it. Intricately carved English Oak paneling covered the walls, giving the space a warm and inviting feel. Large windows, that filled the room with natural light, offered views onto the Promenade Deck with the endless expanse of the ocean beyond. Bronze sconces and large, rounded mirrors were installed throughout. At the center of the forward wall stood a gracefully carved gray marble fireplace, its mantle adorned with a replica statue of the Diana of Versailles. Above it hung a large mirror, reflecting the beauty of the room back on itself.
Groups of tables and chairs and sofas upholstered in plush velvet with green and gold floral patterns were scattered throughout the room. Most of these were filled with women in an array of pastel colored dresses, with white kid gloves pulled over their hands as they drank tea and gossiped. Their voices were a quiet hum as they cast furtive glances around the room seeking out the subject of those conversations.
When one table looked in her direction, she smiled and gave a tiny wave. The women quickly whipped their heads around and whispered together.
"Rose!"
"Mother." With great effort, she drew her attention back to the conversation at hand. Everyone stared at her. "What was the question?"
"I had asked if you were looking forward to your wedding?" Maggie Brown, a woman who had only recently boarded at Cherbourg, looked at her kindly.
Rose put on a large smile. "There is nothing I look forward to more." The smile vanished the moment the words were out.
Her mother sighed. "If you were looking forward to it more, perhaps you wouldn't drag your feet so much on the planning."
"I just don't see why everything has to be such an extravaganza with you. I told you I'd prefer elopement."
"With me?" Her mother set her cup down with a delicate clink of china. "Rose," she said, a note of warning in her voice. She turned to the other ladies sitting around the table and smiled. "She is only being flippant. She knows how it bothers me."
"There is something to be said for elopement," Maggie said. "I nearly did it myself. But I was poor and wouldn't have been able to afford anything too fancy anyway."
Ruth immediately looked uncomfortable. "Is that so?"
Everyone knew that Maggie was new to her fortune, a fact that most of those born to generations of wealth found distasteful. Many saw her as an outsider, someone who didn't belong in their social circle. But Rose found her to be a breath of fresh air in an otherwise stuffy society. She was not afraid to voice her opinions on matters that many other women would have remained silent on. Rose would give anything to have such luxury.
"When I was a girl, I swore up and down that I'd only marry a rich man," Maggie continued. "But then I decided that I'd be better off with a poor man whom I loved than with a wealthy one whose money had attracted me." She laughed. "Of course, then Jim struck it rich and now here I am married to a rich man. Ain't that life for you?"
"But you were happy?" Rose asked. "When he was still poor?"
"Happy as anyone could be all stuffed into two rooms," she replied with a wink.
Ruth sighed as she smoothed out a wrinkle on her sleeve. "Rose won't be stuffed into two rooms any time soon. She has found herself a husband who will have no problem providing her a comfortable life."
"Mr. Hockley, I believe I heard someone mention it?" Maggie inquired.
"Yes, Caledon Hockley. And he has been an absolute wonder," Ruth said, gushing about Cal's generosity. "Paid for our passage, in fact. Not that we couldn't pay ourselves. It was purely from the goodness of his heart. Rose, show Mrs. Brown your engagement ring."
Obediently, Rose held out her hand, displaying the large diamond that glinted on her finger.
"Well, I'll be," Maggie said, admiring the ring. "Would you look at that?"
"Mr. Hockley is— Rose, put your hand down —he is the heir to Pittsburgh Steel," she continued, speaking with pride.
Rose looked at her mother, feeling a sense of frustration and resentment. She knew that the marriage's only purpose was to restore the family fortune, which her father had squandered years ago. But hearing her mother discuss it aloud with so much pride laced into her voice, it was more than she could take. "Mother, perhaps you should marry him since you seem to be so fond of him," she said, sharply. "Or his money, anyway."
" Rose! " Ruth exclaimed, shocked by her daughter's words. "That is enough."
Maggie had her mouth hidden behind her hand, stifling a chuckle. The other women looked in various stages of surprise and amusement.
"Excuse me." Rose dabbed her mouth with her cloth napkin and set it down next to her cup. She stood and left the room, the sound of conversation resuming behind her.
~~~
Jack and Fabrizio made their way down the seemingly endless corridor with its white-paneled walls and wooden planked floor. There were many people milling about speaking a multitude of languages.
"Do you have any idea where we're going?" Jack asked. They had been trying to find the dining saloon but without much luck as each corridor seemed to look the same.
"I think it this way," Fabrizio said. He had no more idea where they were going than his friend but one way was as good as another. He stopped suddenly. A woman stood by the wall, her golden hair bound up in braids, as she chatted in Norwegian to an older couple–he suspected they were her parents.
As he stared at the woman, she looked up and their eyes met. The connection was electric and for a moment, Fabrizio was lost in her gaze.
"Fabri, come on." Jack said, pulling on his arm. "I think we might need to go down a deck."
"Did you see..." He looked back but the woman had already disappeared into the crowd. With a sigh, he followed his friend down the corridor, still feeling the lingering effects of their brief encounter.
~~~
Sarah and John walked along the boat deck, their arms linked together. The sun was just starting to set, casting a warm glow over the water. A gust of wind blew in from the sea. She reached a hand up to touch her hat, making sure it was still pinned to her hair.
They stopped next to one of the lifeboats and looked out at the horizon. "It is so beautiful," Sarah said. "I could stay here forever."
John chuckled. "See if you're still saying that next week. I'm sure you'll be bored before too long."
"Not likely."
As they spoke, two officers walked past them, stopping only a few feet away as one of them bent to retie his shoe.
"I think Davy had it last," one of the officers said.
"I think that's Lightoller," John whispered to Sarah.
"We shouldn't eavesdrop," Sarah whispered back, frowning.
"Davy?" The other officer sighed.
"Murdoch," John said quietly.
"Well, maybe there's another one," Murdoch continued. "Check with the purser."
"And if there isn't?"
"Then we do without binoculars. I doubt we'd need them anyway. Didn't use them once on the Olympic ."
The officers moved away from Sarah and John and out of earshot.
After they had left, John turned to his wife. "I wonder what that was about." He looked at the men's retreating backs. "If only we had brought a set of binoculars," he said wistfully.
"Why is that?"
"So we can give it to them," her husband explained.
Sarah laughed. "They said they don't need them," she reminded him.
"But what if they did? They'd be so grateful we'd be eating dinner with the Captain at his own personal invitation. Just think, you sitting next to the Countess de Roches and Lady Duff Gordon."
"Oh, stop."
"By the end of dinner, you'll all be dear friends," John continued, a twinkle in his eye. "They might even offer you a first class suite."
"Now you're just being ridiculous. I'm perfectly happy where we are."
"Are you?" John asked, his voice softening.
"I'd be happy wherever you are," Sarah said, taking his hand in hers. "As long as we're together, that's all that matters."
John leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. "I love you," he whispered.
Sarah wrapped her arms around him.
As they stood there, lost in each other's embrace, the noise and commotion of the ship faded away. It was just the two of them, together in that moment, and nothing else mattered.
~~~
Some Fun Facts:
*Special 'Boat Trains' conveyed passengers from Waterloo Station in London to the great ocean liners at Southampton Docks. The second and third class trains arrived first (between 9:30 and 11:30 am) and the first class trains arrived around 11:30 am, giving them time to 'fumigate' the other passengers before boarding. Both the second and third class trains were delayed an hour due to interference with the tracks.
*The Platform Tavern, built in 1873, was often frequented by dockers and seamen. The most famous guest was James McGrady who was the last Titanic victim to be pulled from the sea four weeks after the sinking. This is, in fact, the tavern featured in the beginning of the 1997 Titanic film.
*Tickets for the Titanic had a separate tear-off section where the booking information was duplicated. Third class passengers gave that section to emigration officials during inspection. In return, they were given individual inspection cards that served as their boarding passes. First and Second Class passengers were able to bypass the health inspection.
*HISTORICAL INACCURACY: Tickets were non-transferable. There is no possible way that Jack and Fabrizio would've been able to use Sven and Olaf's tickets or bypass the inspection. But what would a Titanic fic be without them?
*There are 3,000,000 rivets on the Titanic. Unlike most ships at the time which only used steel rivets, the Titanic used a mix of iron and steel with predominately the weaker iron in the construction of the bow.
*Margaret Brown is none other than the famous Unsinkable Molly Brown but she wasn't known by that name until after she died. During her life, she was called 'Maggie.'
*The seemingly endless corridor that Jack and Fabrizio were lost in was none other than the Crew Alleyway on E Deck known as Scotland Yard. Traversing the entire length of the ship, it was used by crew members and third class passengers to quickly get from one end of the ship to the other.
*David 'Davy' Blair was originally appointed as the Titanic's Second Officer. At the last moment, he was replaced by Henry Wilde (formerly Second Officer of the Olympic). In his haste to leave the ship, it is believed that he either took the key to the Crow's Nest locker (where the binoculars were possibly stored) or the binoculars themselves. The missing binoculars were a point of investigation during the later inquiries.