Smith?” he asked, incredulously. “You don’t mean…”
“Captain of the Titanic?” asked Smith. “Yes, one and the same, responsible for the loss of fifteen hundred souls. I know a thing or two about sinking ships, sailor. Now, bring me to Captain McSorley, on the double. I’m not going to let this ship go down. If I’m right, if we make it through the night, we’ll make it back up to the topside. Do you want to see your family again, Bob?”
“Holy smokes,” gasped Bob. “Do I? Yes, more than anything in the world, sir! Do you really think it’s possible?”
“Why else would I be here?”
“Hold it,” said Jada. “How is that even possible? Your bones are at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean.”
“There are worse things than death,” said Captain Smith. “Trust me. I believe that I was returned to the earth to make up for my terrible mistake. We can only pray that I’m up to the task.”
Bob didn’t wait around to hear anymore. He quickly ushered Captain Smith up to the pilothouse of the Fitzgerald and they disappeared inside. Out on the water, darkness was creeping over them as the wind howled across the empty deck.
“This is crazy,” whispered Stan. “Maybe it’s just a dream?”
“This ain’t a dream, Stan,” Jada said, scanning the top deck. The steel beneath them moaned as the freighter sloshed against the waves. Minutes earlier, the temperature had been warm, but the air was cold now and the mercury was falling fast. “I love you, Stan,”
“And I love you, too,” he said, leaning over to kiss her.
After the kiss, they both walked over to the railing and stared out at the lighted ships rolling on the waves. “They’re beautiful,” said Jada.
“And they’re all about to sink,” replied Stan. “This has to be hell, don’t you think?”
Jada nodded. “I can’t imagine a worse fate than to suffer than this, every night. What do you suppose the others are doing? What kind of work could there be to do?”
Stan shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t care what they’re doing. I don’t want any part of them. I’m never speaking to my parents again.”
“You shouldn’t say that. They were just overly emotional, that’s all. That kind of thing happens when people lose the ones they love. You’ve got to let it go.”
Stan shook his head. “You heard them. I’ll never let it go.”
A huge wave crashed into the side of the ship and it threatened to toss them both overboard. A cold rain began to fall, mixed with sleet, and it tinkled against the steel decking at an ever increasing rate. “We’ve got to get inside,” Jada said. “Where should we go?”
Stan pointed up to the pilothouse. “Maybe there’s something we can do to help Captain Smith,” he said. “All I know is that I’d rather be up there than down below when this thing hits.”
Jada nodded and kissed him gently. “If we die, will you still love me?”
“I’ll love you forever.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
With the steel deck becoming slicker by the second, they walked as quickly as they dared. Finally, they reached the relative safety of the stairs that led to the crew’s quarters and beyond that, up to the pilothouse. Stan stared up the stairs and he shuddered. Up those stairs, he realized, they would have a bird’s eye view of one of the greatest mysteries in maritime history. Could Smith really save them? Stan wasn’t sure, but something inside of him said that he had a better chance than anyone, dead or alive.
They climbed the stairs and entered the back of the pilothouse, where the two Captains were fiercely arguing about their course. Besides Smith and McSorley, the pilothouse seemed empty. The room wasn’t large, but it was larger than he had imagined. The pilothouse was bathed in yellow light that reflected off the polished brass. Despite the ship’s age, the room looked to be well-equipped with electric navigational equipment. A fresh blast of wind howled outside and the ship began to roll under their feet. Stan knew that he storm was upon them.
“Maybe this was a bad idea,” whispered Jada.
Stan reached up and fixed Jada’s braided hair. He then kissed her and took her by the hand and led her inside.
The two men were standing at the great helm of the ship. Smith was pointing one way, but McSorley seemed to be steering the freighter in the opposite direction. McSorley looked younger than Stan had imagined. He was tall and lean with a full head of brown hair. Dressed in his Captain’s uniform, he was an imposing figure with an air of complete authority. Captain Smith dropped his arm and shook his head. “Damn it, man,” he said. “Will you not listen to reason?”
“I am the captain of this ship, Smith. Don’t you forget that,” replied McSorley, sternly. “Or I’ll have you removed from this bridge.”
Smith stared down at what Stan assumed was the sonar. “We need to get out to deeper water. There isn’t much time.”
As if to accentuate his statement, the ship was hit by a huge wave and there was the sound of tearing metal. “That would be the radio antenna,” McSorley said, checking his watch.
“For the love of God,” Smith said. “Turn this ship hard to starboard, there isn’t much time.”
Stan stared out the window into the boiling sea and he said a quick prayer as another giant wave crashed over the bow. Both he and Jada were rocked back on their heels, while the two experienced seamen hardly seemed to notice.
“Captain Smith,” McSorley said in his crisp Canadian accent. “The Big Fitz is my ship and I have the helm. Please control yourself. I’ve fought this same gale every damn day for thirty-seven odd years. Don’t you think I’ve tried every maneuver in the book by now? This is a doomed ship, sir. We’re about to go down and there isn’t a thing we can do to stop it,” he checked his watch again. “It won’t be long now. Prepare to get very cold and very wet. Don’t bother holding your breath.”
“No!” cried Jada. “Do something, I don’t want to drown!”
Both men turned and McSorley shook his finger at the two of them. “The bridge is off limits,” he said, testily, just as another great wave crashed over the bow and threatened to break the windows of the pilothouse. “Get below deck, now. Trust me, you do not want to see what is about to happen. We’re five minutes away from sailing straight down into the mouth of hell!”
“Not if I can help it!” cried Smith. “I order you to turn hard to starboard!”
McSorley ignored the order and shook his head. “These lakes have claimed thirty thousand souls, Superior isn’t about to spare us. The Three Sisters will be here soon. There is no outrunning them. I suggest you all find something to hang onto.”
Stan had heard of the infamous Three Sisters. Three rogue waves that were much larger than the others, each capable of capsizing a ship on their own, but together they were usually fatal blows to anything that stood in their way.
“Stan, I don’t want to die,” moaned Jada.
“Don’t worry, we’re going to make it,” Stan said, not believing that for a second.
“I’m sorry, miss,” said McSorley. “You had better say your prayers. You’ll both be as dead as I am in a few minutes.”
The door at the back of the pilothouse suddenly burst open and in charged Stan’s parents. They were followed by Butch and Marie. They were all covered in orange soot, iron ore dust, Stan thought. Sol Goobash strode over to Stan and stuck his finger in his face. “What gives you two of you the right to get out of work?” he asked. “Maybe you think you’re better than the rest of us?”
“Please,” McSorley said. “Take your argument off of my bridge! None of you are supposed to be in here.”
“You’re a little rat bastard,” said Myra Goobash, raising her hand to strike Stan.
“Oh no you don’t!” cried Jada, who quickly stepped in between Stan and his parents.
“Quiet!” shouted Captain Smith. “There isn’t much time! Don’t you people want to live?”
“Four minutes,” said McSorley. “If you people were smart, you’d be on
your knees and praying to God!”
“Yeah,” said Butch, “well I already tried that and look what it did for me. I’m already dead!”
“Shut up!” cried Captain Smith. “We’re all in the same boat!”
“No we’re not,” Myra said, haughtily. “Sol and I are still alive.”
“And so are we,” said Stan.
“Not for long,” said Butch. Dad and I are going to toss you overboard. Aren’t we, Daddy?”
“Over my dead body,” snapped Jada. “Bring it on.”
Another wave crashed against the bow and the lights in the pilothouse flickered. The ship was heaved upwards and Stan fought the urge to scream. Maps tumbled to the floor, as did Sol and Myra. Instinctively, Stan reached down to help his mother. She reached up, but as she took him by the hand, Myra Goobash pulled down with all of her considerable strength and Stan found himself on top of her. Viciously, she began to pummel him with her fists. Sol rolled over and got to his knees, and he too began throwing fists at his son. Jada responded by kicking Sol in the chest and he fell backward. Butch and Marie suddenly joined into the fray and the pilothouse was full of the sounds of smacks and grunts, wild screams and curses.
“I order you all to get off of my bridge!” shouted McSorley. “I will not tolerate this sort of roughhouse behavior!”
“I order you to turn this ship hard to starboard!” Captain Smith bellowed.
“You couldn’t save the Titanic,” countered McSorley. “For the love of God, what makes you think you can save
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