Titanic: True Love Forever

Chapter 4: Eternity

Here you can see people of every status you can imagine running alongside you, and if you want to see a British aristocrat or an American mogul, you'll have to run up to D deck and look upwards, where it's full of men in well-tailored suits and women in expensive, ornate hats.

But whether a third-class blacksmith or an upper-class magnate, I don't think a more embarrassed passenger could be found. Jack got on board and drowned in a maze of cabin corridors, and although I was familiar with the plot of the Titanic movie and had even read something about the Titanic, I had no memory at all of the finer points. For example, I forget Jack's cabin number, but I do remember the two other men in the cabin with him, companions of the man who won his ticket.

I can't possibly knock on every cabin door, that would tire me out. There was still time, actually, to find Jack and convince him.

Tomorrow at noon the Titanic would dock in the Irish port of Queenstown, the last passengers would board, and I would disembark. Whether I find Jack or not, or if I can't convince him in the end, I'll get off the ship and leave.

This adventure on board the ship is just for the teenage love when the boy god to fight, later old can also tell the grandchildren the story of the ship, your grandmother when I was young rushed onto a sinking ship, just to save the former idol.

Of course that blanket is vital, and the object is Jack Dawson is just to make me more desperate.

So I still had a day as a cushion, and I wandered around the third-class passageway for half an hour before I finally found the room where my ticket was. The lamps in the passageway gave off a ghastly white light, illuminating the faces of all the passengers in white. I felt like a ghost wandering in the depths of the ocean, and looked particularly out of place.

There was no luggage, my skinny ankles were stained with dirty blood, the cuffs of my badly worn tunic were rolled up twice, my pants looked hollow because they didn't fit, and my long hair was tousled and disheveled. As I made my way forward I was mobbed, and an English woman saw the flash of pity on my face as she draped a blanket over me and inquired, "Do you need help? Child."

I said with a grimace, "Thank you, can you get off the boat tomorrow?"

The woman smiled in embarrassment and then walked away.

Who cares about a crazy person like me, so here I am yelling about sinking the ship guessing the captain will throw me with mad cow disease overboard so I can experience what it means to sink a ship.

I took out the ticket from my pocket, and the most conspicuous thing on it was "WHITE STAR LINE" in black letters. On it were the words "WHITE STAR LINE" in bold letters, some passenger rules, and the cabin number.

I walked into the room marked on my ticket, and there were three men in the room, talking animatedly in Swedish. The conversation stopped abruptly when they saw me walk in with a blanket over my head, as if they didn't understand what I was doing in here. Or maybe it was the fact that I looked horrible without shoes, in this day and age a woman couldn't tolerate showing anything above her ankles, and my pants obviously didn't cover my calves completely. I shouldn't really have lost the hat, painted my face with coal and put on a man's hat, the devil could tell I was a woman.

I saw the one remaining lower bunk in the cabin, which was very narrow. There were four single beds, top and bottom, on each side, and the center passage was pitifully crowded, and in the wall of the ship in the center of the passage there was a white marble sink, and above the sink was a heater.

A male passenger was lying on the top bunk, half poking his body out and looking down and was grinning, and on the bunk below him were two other passengers who were sitting and talking. When I walked up to the empty bunk, they both moved their feet out of the way at the same time in perfect synchronization, allowing me to pass.

I climbed into the bunk as if I could feel a slight shiver coming from under the covers; the ship was sailing and we were in the middle of the sea. I wiped my feet with the blanket, the torn skin looked a little oozy. I grabbed a cleaner corner of the blanket and wiped my face, which immediately turned black and gray. I'm afraid I can't wipe my face with the blanket, the mud and dust stuck to it probably messed up my face.

Throwing away the blanket, I silently pulled out the quilt with the red marking of the White Star Company and got into it, the cabin was quiet, everyone looked at me as if they were watching a pantomime. It seems I have a talent for comedy, maybe I can play Chaplin next time I'm in America.

Just an hour's sleep, then find Jack and find a way to get him to agree to disembark, then wait for disembarkation in Cork, Ireland at noon tomorrow.

What a perfect plan, and I immediately fell into a deep sleep with my blanket closed, my body had reached its limit and I couldn't run any more.

I had a dream of a dark movie theater where the light from the front shone on the seats in a pale white haze. The movie screen Titanic in the ice blue sea driving forward, I sat alone in the movie theater, Titanic on the ship there is no one, only the empty deck and the huge hull.

Its lines were still so smooth and graceful, like birds flying in the sea. On the distant horizon, the Statue of Liberty in New York Harbor loomed, but it was like an aesthetic illusion as the ship began to disintegrate, the paint faded, the gangplanks crumbled, and the portholes crumbled out. It began to sink, swallowed bit by bit by the icy blue waters, and finally lay in a silent slumber on the bottom of the sea, two and a half miles away.

Empty and alone losing all buried in the dust and ash of the ocean floor.

I tried to reach out and touch it, but found myself coming across a fractured and rusted carved undersea door, which I pushed open, and a pale band of light flowed out of the door and cascaded down past me. The door was repairing itself at a speed of light, like time going backward, year by year, 2012, 1997, 1985, 1912 ...... The door became new and perfect, the carvings like angry branches.

I walked in, a circular staircase, and under the huge curved round stained glass dome were sparkling clear chandelier crystal lights. Everyone was clapping and smiling, as if they had been waiting for me to arrive a long time ago.

I walked down the stairs and in that moment suddenly had the feeling of waiting a century away.

And in the next second, a cacophony of horns blared fiercely, and I jerked awake, my eyes frozen above me, unable for a moment to remember what I had dreamed. Orange-red light came in gently through the portholes, and I could almost hear the sounds that surged through these tiny bits of sunlight, interspersed with the smell of dampness that lingered at the tip of my nose. The sound of the stern engines came faintly from below, where the third class cabins were located, below the Titanic's propellers.

The cabin was empty, and I came back to my senses and immediately climbed out of bed, the wounds on my feet sending a fine pain through me, making me curl up and grind against the ground uncontrollably. I took quick little skipping steps in an attempt to ignore the annoying ache.

Once outside the cabin, the few passengers in the walkway were walking around, and I didn't think it was likely that I'd find any sign of Jack here anytime soon. When you're not the heroine, it becomes a mission impossible to meet the hero once, even if you're on the same ship.

I went into the third-class dining room and ate something that looked like I hadn't eaten in days and nights. A few of the immigrants looked at me so dumbfounded that I wanted them to collect the eyeballs that had fallen to the deck.

As night began to fall, the Titanic came to rest on the sea, with the city of Cherbourg, France, on the far shore. This was Titanic's second stop, docked at 7:00 p.m., and was preparing to pick up guests from two other mid-sized cruise ships.

I slept for five or six hours. How could I spend such a life-affirming period of time sleeping? Walking to the aft D deck, which was still warm from the afterglow of dusk, I looked wearily out over the sea as night was falling and planned to stay up all night. Tonight I would try to find Jack in my third class room, and regardless of the outcome, tomorrow morning I would keep time and disembark the ship as soon as it docked in an Irish port. Tomorrow is the last safe docking of the Titanic and a large number of Irish immigrants will follow on board.

A few passengers sat lounging on the long wooden seats on the third class walk deck. I exhale deeply and can almost feel the cold temperature in the air irritating my fragile, unforgiving skin. It was fine during the day, but as soon as the temperature dropped at night, the clothes on my body didn't have the slightest function in keeping me warm; the only function it could serve was to be used to avoid me running around naked.

The sea was horribly calm, and I walked over to where the railing was and placed my hands on it to look down at the water below. The deck railing was about a dozen meters above the draft line, the water was barely rippling at all, and the Titanic seemed to be anchored not inside the water but on land. I could see a petite cruise ship docked next to the giant, orange lights fading in and out from the ship.

Another one rushing aboard to come to the same end, I leaned my chin on my crossed arms and watched with an expressionless face as all this stuff was happening.

Once again, I simulated what the outcome would be if I spread the news of the sinking ship.

First of all, the passengers would coldly survey my tramp's tattered coat, worthless for a dime, and so my words would be worthless as well.

Secondly the crew would come up to me and talk to me, and then at the captain's signal detain me in the prison monitor's room. There's a half chance I'll be driven ashore tomorrow, a punishment that begs for kindness. The other half chance of course was that no one would remember me, and they would occasionally think of me in passing as they did so, and recall the scene when they reached New York harbor and handed me over to the police.

Who knows, if I do survive to New York Harbor, there will be 30,000 people in Manhattan running over to watch me at that point.

No one will believe my words, even if I am not a tramp, but a decent noble lady ...... still no one will believe.

I dug into my pockets, and luckily the harmonica I had packed in my tattered pockets was still there. This is I won back from the hands of a down and out street vendor, I said I can turn a hundred circles without stopping, he died not believe, so I won his hands of the harmonica.

He played it so badly that I couldn't stand it before I snatched the poor instrument back from him.

I tried to hold the harmonica in my mouth for a few moments to try and play, and it made a shrill sound. I frowned critically and shook the harmonica vigorously into the air, then slowly sat down on the deck along the bars with my back to the railing, grabbed the harmonica with both hands, put it in my mouth and used my breath to play.

The staccato tones were unformed at first, and I slowly searched for the melody of the tones, closing my eyes as my lips came into intimate contact with the instrument. The harmonica was worn out, probably a product of Germany and came from there, and I would sometimes stop and hum softly for a few moments before resuming to play from the first phrase again.

I seem to forget that I am in a boat and return to my stage, my body supple as the notes on a five-line score, dancing to Celine Dion's heavenly vocals. The breeze from the sea blew over the railing behind me, and I listened to the melody of the harmonica fluttering overhead with the flag on the mast.

What could be more appropriate than playing My Heart Will Go On on the Titanic, recalling the Canadian diva's vocals as I slowly compiled a harmonica version of the My Heart Will Go On melody.

If I could, I would like to keep playing, with my back to the ocean, and let this huge liner stop because of the sound of my harmonica, and stay in this quiet moment forever.

My Heart Will Go On.