“I hate this hat,” she said. “It makes me look all old or something.”
Brett stared at her hat and said clearly for the camera, and more importantly for Mr. Martin, “I like my hat very much.”
“Brown-noser,” she said.
“Just speaking the truth,” Brett replied.
“Yeah, right. Now, what are we going to do?”
“Let’s tour this ship.”
“We did that already,” she pleaded.
“Not under the ship.”
“Under?”
“Yeah, the engine room, the boiler. Whatever is down there, I wanna see it.”
“Not sure how seeing the engine is going to save the Titanic from hitting an iceberg.”
“Got any better ideas?” he asked.
She shook her head and opened the door. “Let’s go.”
They exited the room and went down the hallway to the stairs, this time going down instead of climbing up. They passed the third class area and reached the end of the steps. It looked like a dead end until they noticed that there was a cut-out in the wall which read: Engine Room - Crew Only. Brett tried pulling on the small handle but it was locked.
“Now what?” Ally asked.
“Let’s go back up to the captain and ask him for a tour,” Brett replied
“You think?” Brett looked at her and she sighed before saying, “No, no. I don’t have any better ideas.”
Getting from the third-class cabins in the rear of the massive ship to the front of the boat and the bridge was no easy task. They climbed the staircase which, when they reached the top, was a full seven flights of stairs. Then they had to walk the length of the ship. Fifteen minutes later they finally made it to the bridge, which was, of course, locked. Without hesitating, Brett knocked.
“What are you doing?” Ally said, giving him a playful slap on the arm.
“Asking the captain for a tour of the engine room.”
Before she could argue, the door opened. A man dressed in the same type of blue suit as the men they’d seen the night before asked them what they wanted.
“We’d like to see the captain,” Brett said.
“Boy, the captain is very busy sailing this ship.”
“I understand, I just want to ask him a question.”
“I’m sorry,” the man said and started to shut the door. Brett held out his hand to keep the door from closing. “Bugger me, I will have you thrown in the brig, boy!” There was some pushing and shoving of the door in either direction before the door swung fully in. Brett stumbled in and looked up. The captain was staring right at him.
“What’s going on here, Thomas?” Captain Smith asked softly.
“This...this boy here demanded to see you and burst his way onto the bridge.”
“Ah, you two again,” he said, nodding at Ally who was still standing outside the doorway. “Son, whatever it is you need, arguing with the crew and causing a ruckus will get you nowhere. What can I do for you?”
“Umm, hi captain,” Brett said confidently. “I, or we,” he turned to Ally, “were wondering if we could have a tour of the ship.”
“You were? Well just go take a walk around, son,” the captain said emphatically. “This ship will take you all day to tour. Just don’t go stormin’ into the first-class dining hall, understood?”
“Yes, sir. We’ve seen the ship, but we were wondering if you could show us how the ship moves. Like what makes the ship go?”
“You wanna see the engine room, don’t ya?”
Brett shrugged and replied, “Yeah, I guess so.”
The captain brought his hand up to his face, rubbing the white mustache between his fingers. “Son, I can’t go nowhere so,” he nodded toward the officer. “Thomas here will take you on a little tour.”
“But sir, I have to plot the maps and...,” Thomas pleaded.
“I’ll have that taken care of. These are paying customers and that young lady saved me from some embarrassment earlier. You go and give these two a quick tour of the engine room and all of the intricacies.” He looked at his watch. “Shouldn’t take you more than an hour to be back up here. Now go.” He turned and went back onto the bridge.
Thomas looked at Brett and then Ally and said with a snarl, “You two are gonna pay for this. Let’s go!” He walked past, and they followed quickly behind.
It took about fifteen minutes this time to get right back to the door that Brett had seen locked before. Thomas pulled out a set of keys that were clipped to his belt. He found one that was silver, unlike the others which were brass, inserted it in the keyhole, and opened the door. He walked through the doorway and Brett and Ally did the same. They were in a cramped hallway that shed little light from the occasional light bulb every twenty feet or so. After a few twists and turns they came to another door, but no key was needed this time. When they opened the door, Brett was overcome by the sound.
It was loud, almost to the point that he needed to cover his ears. There were grinding sounds, loud voices, metallic clanks, and what sounded like shovels hoisting dirt somewhere. The heat was intense too. Broad- shouldered men covered in grease, grime, and dirt walked about the large engine room, some shouting orders, others following them.
“We can’t have civilians in here!” a man with a full head of red hair and an even fuller beard shouted.
“Captain’s orders,” Thomas shouted back. “He instructed me to give them a brief tour. Now quiet your yap and let me get on with it.”
The man shook his head, looked at Ally, and smiled. Ally turned her head and grabbed Brett’s hand, cowering behind him.
“Here is the engine room. You satisfied?” Thomas said to them.
Brett looked around and asked, “What are they doing?”
“What are they doing? They be running the bloody ship!” Thomas belted.
“Yeah, but how?” Brett asked.
Thomas sighed before finally raising his arm to the vast room. Large, steel columns moved about, enormous wheels rotated left and right, and steel walkways intersected each other like the Los Angeles freeway. They could see gauges, knobs, wheels, pipes, trellises, ladders, doorways, and above that, steam filtered through the air. To the side were three fire pits and men could be seen with shovels nearby watching the fire with intense scrutiny.
“Those guys,” Thomas said pointing, “are shoveling coal into the furnaces to provide fuel to the engines. The guys over there,” he said waving toward the large propeller-like steel columns, “are pouring water on the engine to cool it and stop it from overheating. This here,” he pointed to a nearby compass-looking thing, “tells the crew the orders from the bridge.”
Brett and Ally walked toward the brass and glass cylinder that looked like a large clock with a handle at the top. Words were placed vertically from top to bottom. Starting from the left they read: Full, Half, Slow, Dead Slow, Stand By, Stop. This was repeated for the Port engine.
“Here is where we get a telegraph from the bridge and decide what speed to reduce or increase to and what engine shall be used. Well, if there’s nothing else, we should be on our way,” Thomas said.
“What about the coal?” Brett asked for no apparent reason, other than to stall him.
“Over ten thousand tons of coal was loaded onto the Titanic. The coal is burned and used to heat water which turns into steam which propels the ship. Hence the term ‘steam engine.’ This ship uses about eight hundred tons of coal a day.”
As Thomas spoke, Brett took in all of the action around him. He tried to absorb the look and feel of the room in case he had to return. After Thomas’s speech on coal, they left the room, walked up the stairs, level after level, floor after floor, until they reached the deck. The sun was high above them, providing warmth from the chilly Atlantic. They went over to the railing that hugged the outskirts of the massive ship and looked out at the ocean. Nothing but open water could be seen for miles and miles everywhere they looked.
“Look how blue it is,” Ally said, point
ing straight down at the churning blue wake the ship created as it carved through the ocean.
“Man, this is cool,” Brett replied. “We’ve got to get a plan going,” Brett said softly. “This ship is going to sink in about ten hours.”
<><><><><>
That night, Brett had a dream. He was on his grandfather’s boat. His dad was steering while his grandfather pulled up the crab traps. And then the morning alarm sounded, waking him. There was something about the boat that bothered him that morning as he made his way to school. All he could remember was his granddad looking at his dad, yelling at him to do something. But what?
There was a light applause as Brett and Ally made their way into the classroom the following day. This could be the day they’d all find out whether Brett and Ally would save the Titanic.
“Okay, okay class settle down. Any questions for Brett or Ally before they continue their journey?” Mr. Martin asked.
A few hands went up. Mr. Martin called on them in order.
“Mr. Martin,” a boy asked, “why is there smoke coming from only three of the four smokestacks on the ship?”
“Good question, Mike. The ship’s builder put the fourth one in for aesthetic purposes only. They wanted the ship to be grand and different from every other ship. The smokestack serves no purpose other than its visual significance. Next question, Chloe?”
“How are you going to save the Titanic?”
Mr. Martin answered that one by simply saying they would all have to wait and see.
“Is it weird going back in time?”
Mr. Martin did not answer but instead turned toward Brett and Ally who stood near the front of the room.
Brett shrugged. “It’s cool.”
Ally smiled. “Yeah. It is cool.”
“Well,” Mr. Martin said, “enlightening. Shall we?” He motioned toward the closet. Brett and Ally followed the professor to the closet. They performed their daily ritual of changing clothes and laying in the time machine, then vanished.
Coming back into the classroom, Mr. Martin was about to turn on the TV for the class to watch Brett and Ally when a voice snickered softly behind him. He turned quickly around trying to catch the boy who just spoke and everyone was quiet. His focus centered on a group of four, three girls and a boy, all of whom had a devilish grin on their faces. He knew who it was.
“Something to say, Mr. Hawk?” Mr. Martin asked Lance.
Lance, playing the joker, looked left and right before saying, “Me? Nothing, sir.”
Mr. Martin scratched his beard and watched Lance intently. He was not going to back down to this young troublemaker. “Mr. Hawk, are you enjoying this class?” he asked.
Lance shrugged his shoulders and said sarcastically, “Yeah, sure.”
Mr. Martin had an idea. Instead of turning on the TV, Mr. Martin went to the back of the room and came out of the closet with the bingo cage. He moved it to the front of the classroom. The students looked on, puzzled. Mr. Martin opened his desk drawer and pulled out a clear plastic bag with blue and pink papers inside of it. The kids watched with intensity as Mr. Martin loaded just the pink little bundles of paper into the rotating machine.
“Mr. Hawk, please come to the front of the room.”
There were a few chuckles and murmurs throughout the room before Lance casually got out of his chair and went to the front of the room. The boy furrowed his brow before asking, “What’s with the bingo machine?”
Mr. Martin smiled. He rotated the hand crank, sending the little bundles of paper around and around in the metallic contraption.
“Pick one,” he said to Lance after he stopped turning the crank.
“For what?” Lance responded.
“For your partner,” Mr. Martin replied. “You think you can do better than Brett and Ally, don’t you?”
Lance didn’t respond and the smirk disappeared from his mouth.
“Pick one,” Martin repeated.
Lance slowly dug his hand into the basket and pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to his teacher who unraveled it to reveal the girl’s name.
“Ella Brooks, please come to the front of the class. You’ll be joining Lance for a trip on the Titanic. Let’s go.”
Lance looked around the room in disbelief but soon turned joyous at the thought of beating Brett on their mission to save the Titanic.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The sun was losing its steam as the orange ball of fire dipped low on the horizon of the Atlantic Ocean. Brett and Ally stood on the deck, just below the bridge, taking in the sights and sounds around them. Couples meandered about, walking hand and hand, incapable of knowing that the next few hours would change their destiny forever. Some would be saved, but most would perish.
“Time is running out,” Brett said.
Ally brushed back her wind-blown hair, contemplating their predicament. Brett leaned against the railing. “Let’s keep an eye on the bridge. We need to see who goes in and out. Maybe there’s a way we can sneak in there and change course.”
“Brett, really? We’re going to break into the bridge of the most famous ship in history, grab the wheel, and steer the ship away from the iceberg?” She laughed, mocking him, and then continued in a stern, male voice, “‘What are you doing in here young man?’ and you’d say, ‘just driving your boat, captain.’”
Even Brett had to laugh. “That would be quite a scene,” he said. He stared out into the vast emptiness of the surrounding water. “Hey, if we can’t get into the place where they steer the ship, what about getting into the place that powers the ship?”
“You mean the engine room?”
“Yeah.”
“We were in there before, what else do you want to see?”
“I’m not sure yet, but I want to go back in there.”
“How?
Brett looked her in the eye and said, “You’re going to steal the keys from that jerk that took us there.”
Ally squinted at Brett and cocked her head before saying, “I am, am I?”
“Yep. Just turn on that charm of yours,” he replied. He grabbed her hand and said, “Let’s go,” while leading her away back up to the bridge.
They passed numerous couples in formal wear, all heading to the main dining hall where most of them would eat their last meal.
As Brett and Ally made their way up the stairs and neared the bridge, they almost had a heart attack as they stared at the two people standing on the top of landing. A boy and a girl, both were folding their arms across their chests, smiling, or rather, smirking.
“Surprised to see us?” Lance said.
“Lance,” Brett muttered.
“That’s right, tough guy. How’s your head? Still hurting from baseball?” he laughed.
“What was the score again?” Brett asked sarcastically.
He couldn’t believe it. The jerk from history class somehow made it back in time. Standing next to him was another girl from their class, Ella. She was short and a little chubby, but had a cute face that was partially hidden by her blond bangs. Both were dressed in similar clothing as Brett and Ally, and wearing the infamous hats with the cameras.
“What in the world are you doing here?” Brett asked.
“Are you here to help us?” Ally asked.
“Nope, just the opposite.”
“What?!” Brett exclaimed.
“That’s right, buddy,” Lance said. “We’re also here to save the Titanic.”
“Why would Mr. Martin send you back here? Does he think we’re not doing a good job?”
“Probably,” Lance said.
“No,” Ella said, telling the truth. “Mr. Martin heard Lance say he could do a better job so he sent him back here to see if he really could. I just got picked at random.”
Brett took the last step up to the landing. He walked around Lance and said, “Let’s go Ally.”
Ally followed in behind him. Lance and Ella did the same.
“Where are we going, buddy?” Lance asked.
Ally spoke up first. “To the—”
“Nowhere.” Brett increased his pace. “Can’t tell him anything. We gotta lose them,” he whispered.
“How?” Ally asked.
“Even though they’ve been watching us on TV, we know this ship better than them. We’re gonna split up and meet at the bridge, okay?”
Ally nodded. “Okay.”
“Let’s take these stairs down. You stop at the second class floor and loop around and make it back to the bridge. I’ll take the third class floor and do the same.” They started down the steps with Lance and Ella ten feet behind them. “Ready?”
“Yep,” she replied.
When they reached the next level, Brett lightly pushed her into the hallway as he darted down the steps without saying a word.
“Crap! Go! Follow her,” Lance said to Ella who was trailing behind him. He quickly ran down the steps, his hand grasping the wall to keep his balance. As he made his way to the next floor, he heard footsteps in the hallway. He peeked out and saw Brett jogging down the middle, flanked by doors on either side.
Brett made his way to the next set of stairs and went further down the caldron of the great ship. He peeked behind him, saw no one, and pressed forward. As he neared the next set of steps, he turned once again. Lance also made the turn and headed toward him. Brett changed course, climbing two floors. At the same time, Ally was running on the same floor, distancing herself from the out-of-shape Ella. She rounded a set of stairs just as an empty elevator door was about to close. She quickly jumped inside, pressed various buttons, and the elevator ascended, leaving a frustrated Ella behind.
Ally made it to the top floor and stepped out onto the deck. She rounded the corner and headed toward the bridge, all the while wondering whether Brett had escaped from Lance. In less than a minute she was standing outside the bridge, breathless, when the door itself opened and there stood their favorite officer, Thomas, with another young man dressed in blue.
They smiled and Thomas said, “Well, well, back again, aren’t we?”
Ally struggled to catch her breath, her hand clutching the wall to keep her steady.
“This her?” the other man snickered.
Foxworth Academy Page 9