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Authors: Marlene Dotterer
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'warn' him. He'll never believe you. The most you can try to do is make some suggestions that will get him thinking along certain lines."
"Like more life boats?" Casey asked.
Sam waved his hand. "Everybody harps on the life boats. Sure, more would have been, or would be, great, but how about keeping the ship from sinking to begin with? Andrews supervises the drafting department, he's in charge of the ship's design. Let me think about it. My mind is too muddled right now. But listen, Casey," he leaned forward, gripping her arm, "You keep your wits about you and your eyes open. This is June '06. I don't think they've even thought of building these ships, yet. You can't warn him about a ship that isn't even on paper."
"Oh." That brought Casey up short. She thought about what she knew of the Titanic , which wasn't much. "Let's see, it sinks in 1912, right?"
Sam nodded. "Hits the iceberg just before midnight on 14 April. Sinks in a couple of hours."
"I guess it takes a few years to build a ship like that. When do they start?"
"Soon, I imagine," Sam replied, coughing again. "Seems to me they start on the plans sometime next year. Let me think about it," he said again. "It's just too much to remember all at once."
Casey nodded, worried at his weakness–all the coughing was wearing him down. She blinked away tears and tucked the blanket around him. "Get more rest, okay? I'll have to be out of here pretty early. Will you be all right for breakfast?"
He patted her hand. "I'll get through. Keep in mind that I've got sixty years of good medical care behind me. I should be in pretty good shape, generally. I'll shake this."
Chapter 7
June 1906–July 1906
If she had not already known where Harland & Wolff Shipyard was located, Casey could have found it by following the noise. Even in the midst of town, it was possible to hear a rhythmic banging coming from Queen's Island. The sound increased with every step as she approached the gate shortly before eight the next morning. The yard was crowded with the second shift, hundreds of workers, several of them young boys, moving through the gate, or loitering as they waited to be hired for the day. They were all dressed as she was, in dark pants and shirt, with dark caps covering their heads.
I guess I look the part. Maybe this will work.
She paused when she saw a guard. "Casey Wilson, sir. I'm to report to Mr. Thomas Andrews."
He looked over and nodded, indicating a big man heading in. "Follow Albright, there. Hey, Albright! Drop this lad off for Mr. Andrews. You're goin' that way."
The big man gestured a "come on" without slowing down. Casey scrambled through the crowd, afraid to lose him. As they entered the building, the smell of burning coal made her cough, mingled as it was with grease, cigarettes, and superheated metal. The source of the banging wasn't obvious, but it saturated everything, overriding the lesser sounds of boilers building up pressure for steam, generators providing electricity, the taps and clacks of a thousand hammers, pulleys, and chains, and the jovial shouts of men as they performed their tasks.
I guess I'll get used it. No one else seems to mind it.
One thing for certain, the scale of everything in this place was simply huge. The building was cavernous and filled with machines and equipment, some of them reaching over twenty or thirty feet high. She couldn't begin to guess the names of any of it. The cranes and gantries were visible from many points of town, and here, as she caught glimpses of them through doorways, Casey almost couldn't tear her eyes away.
How can they do this kind of thing with their level of technology? These things are basically built by hand!
After a few minutes of walking through rooms filled with people, machines, and noise, Albright waved Casey toward a doorway. "He's in there. Office in the back," was his only comment as he rushed onward.
"Thanks!" Casey called after him, not sure if he heard.
Heart pounding,
"Like more life boats?" Casey asked.
Sam waved his hand. "Everybody harps on the life boats. Sure, more would have been, or would be, great, but how about keeping the ship from sinking to begin with? Andrews supervises the drafting department, he's in charge of the ship's design. Let me think about it. My mind is too muddled right now. But listen, Casey," he leaned forward, gripping her arm, "You keep your wits about you and your eyes open. This is June '06. I don't think they've even thought of building these ships, yet. You can't warn him about a ship that isn't even on paper."
"Oh." That brought Casey up short. She thought about what she knew of the Titanic , which wasn't much. "Let's see, it sinks in 1912, right?"
Sam nodded. "Hits the iceberg just before midnight on 14 April. Sinks in a couple of hours."
"I guess it takes a few years to build a ship like that. When do they start?"
"Soon, I imagine," Sam replied, coughing again. "Seems to me they start on the plans sometime next year. Let me think about it," he said again. "It's just too much to remember all at once."
Casey nodded, worried at his weakness–all the coughing was wearing him down. She blinked away tears and tucked the blanket around him. "Get more rest, okay? I'll have to be out of here pretty early. Will you be all right for breakfast?"
He patted her hand. "I'll get through. Keep in mind that I've got sixty years of good medical care behind me. I should be in pretty good shape, generally. I'll shake this."
Chapter 7
June 1906–July 1906
If she had not already known where Harland & Wolff Shipyard was located, Casey could have found it by following the noise. Even in the midst of town, it was possible to hear a rhythmic banging coming from Queen's Island. The sound increased with every step as she approached the gate shortly before eight the next morning. The yard was crowded with the second shift, hundreds of workers, several of them young boys, moving through the gate, or loitering as they waited to be hired for the day. They were all dressed as she was, in dark pants and shirt, with dark caps covering their heads.
I guess I look the part. Maybe this will work.
She paused when she saw a guard. "Casey Wilson, sir. I'm to report to Mr. Thomas Andrews."
He looked over and nodded, indicating a big man heading in. "Follow Albright, there. Hey, Albright! Drop this lad off for Mr. Andrews. You're goin' that way."
The big man gestured a "come on" without slowing down. Casey scrambled through the crowd, afraid to lose him. As they entered the building, the smell of burning coal made her cough, mingled as it was with grease, cigarettes, and superheated metal. The source of the banging wasn't obvious, but it saturated everything, overriding the lesser sounds of boilers building up pressure for steam, generators providing electricity, the taps and clacks of a thousand hammers, pulleys, and chains, and the jovial shouts of men as they performed their tasks.
I guess I'll get used it. No one else seems to mind it.
One thing for certain, the scale of everything in this place was simply huge. The building was cavernous and filled with machines and equipment, some of them reaching over twenty or thirty feet high. She couldn't begin to guess the names of any of it. The cranes and gantries were visible from many points of town, and here, as she caught glimpses of them through doorways, Casey almost couldn't tear her eyes away.
How can they do this kind of thing with their level of technology? These things are basically built by hand!
After a few minutes of walking through rooms filled with people, machines, and noise, Albright waved Casey toward a doorway. "He's in there. Office in the back," was his only comment as he rushed onward.
"Thanks!" Casey called after him, not sure if he heard.
Heart pounding,
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