Chapter 7 - A Ship With Almost Everything
On my third morning aboard Titanic, I decided to conduct what I called a professional investigation.
Samuel called it wandering.
My editor had arranged permission for me to see several of the ship’s facilities so I could describe them accurately.
I intended to take full advantage.
We started with the gymnasium.
I expected weights.
There were weights.
There were also machines that looked as though someone had combined furniture, farming equipment, and a mechanical horse after a very long evening.
The gymnasium instructor demonstrated one device.
I watched.
He asked whether I wanted to try.
Naturally I said yes.
This was a mistake.
Five minutes later, I was riding a stationary mechanical horse while Samuel stood nearby pretending not to enjoy my humiliation.
“Does this improve one’s health?” I asked.
“So I’m told.”
“It appears mainly to improve everyone else’s mood.”
A child laughed at me.
I dismounted with what dignity remained.
Next came the swimming bath.
A swimming pool.
On a ship.
I had known about it before boarding, yet seeing one below deck was different.
The room smelled of warm water and tile. Electric light reflected from the surface.
I crouched at the edge.
“We are surrounded by an ocean,” I said, “and apparently that is insufficient water.”
Samuel nodded.
“Passengers are demanding creatures.”
The Turkish bath was stranger still.
Decorative tiles, warm rooms, cooling areas, spaces for steam and rest—it felt exotic in a way that probably owed as much to European imagination as to anything genuinely Turkish.
I wrote until my hand hurt.
There was also a squash court.
A barber.
Reading rooms.
Lounges.
Smoking rooms.
A kennel for First Class dogs.
Electric elevators.
Different restaurants.
After several hours, I stopped Samuel in a corridor.
“Be honest.”
“Yes?”
“Is there anything this ship does not have?”
“A railway station.”
“Give them time.”
We reached the Verandah Café near the stern.
This became one of my favorite places aboard.
Wicker furniture made it feel light and informal. Large windows allowed passengers to watch the sea. Potted plants gave the strange impression that a garden had grown inside the ship.
A little white dog trotted beneath a table.
Its owner apologized.
I told her I had met worse passengers.
She did not laugh.
Samuel did.
Progress.
Later I visited Café Parisien again.
Sunlight fell across the tables.
Young passengers sat talking, drinking coffee, and pretending the Atlantic was merely a decorative backdrop.
I understood why the place was popular.
Outside the windows, the sea went on forever.
Inside, people discussed fashion, business, engagements, horses, politics, and dinner.
It struck me that humans could adapt to almost anything.
Give us a warm room and coffee and we will conduct ordinary life while crossing an ocean.
That afternoon I went outside alone.
The wind was strong enough to push against my coat.
Titanic’s bow rose ahead, cutting through the Atlantic.
White water broke along the hull.
Sea birds had mostly disappeared now.
Nothing followed us but smoke and wake.
I walked until my face went numb, then returned inside.
The temperature change was immediate.
Warmth.
Carpet.
Light.
Conversation.
The contrast never stopped impressing me.
The Atlantic was always only one door away.
That became my favorite fact about Titanic.
Not the size.
Not the luxury.
Not the staircase.
The door.
On one side: civilization.
On the other: an ocean cold enough to kill a man.
Most of us hardly thought about it.
Why would we?
The ship felt strong.
Stable.
Permanent.
At dinner, Mr. Whitney declared Titanic practically unsinkable.
His wife sighed.
“Arthur, don’t say ridiculous things.”
“I’m only repeating what everyone says.”
Eleanor glanced at me.
“You’re writing that down, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Of course.”
I did not think the remark important.
It was simply something people said about modern ships.
After dinner, I returned to the promenade.
The sun had gone down.
For a long time I stood alone.
Titanic moved west.
Somewhere below, the swimming pool water gently shifted inside its tiled room while outside the hull thousands of miles of Atlantic surrounded us.
May you like
That thought made me smile.
At the time, it seemed wonderful.
