Jamison Abbot's Story

There was salt in the air and a particular bounce in Georgie’s step as she had left her cabin room and was making her way towards the first class dining hall. Her spirit was electrified with the new sights around her and the energy that seemed to ripple from one person to another. She felt as though she had been released from an iron cage and allowed to breathe fresh air. While she knew she’d have to return to her gilded cage, she knew she had 364 more days to fill as she saw fit.

The enormity of the Titanic had been understated in the papers. Georgie could not believe such a huge mass of metal floated above the water and did not sink to the darkening depths of the sea. She had spent a great deal of the voyage so far exploring every nook and cranny she found that she was allowed to. Of course they had only been on the sea for the day and there was a great deal more she wanted to explore, but the possibilities seemed endless in her mind.

The sun was making its descent in the sky at this point in their journey. Georgie’s stomach was growling, but she was quickly distracted by the portrait of colors that caught her eye through a port hole window. She had squeezed passed others within the halls until she had finally found a door that led onto the upper deck.

This deck was reserved for the first class passengers and was quite different from the lower decks she had glimpsed earlier in the day when she had been boarding. Here the children were well dressed and well mannered. The parents held collected conversations and all around her everyone was behaving in a manner most dignified that her aunt would approve of wholeheartedly.

For a moment that stifling feeling began to rise in her throat and she quickly loosened the ties that held the hideous hat in place on her head--compliments of her aunt. These were the people she resented. They were fake smiles and fake conversation.

She closed her eyes briefly and allowed her mind to take her back to the open and wild plains of Africa. She took in a slow breath and the salt filled her lungs. She pushed her way down the well traveled memory paths in her mind until she came to a particular favorite.

She and Abebe had stumbled upon a young lion cub. Georgie had only been 14 at the time. She always had seen the magnificent creatures from a distance and was surprised to find the young cub curious and far less threatening than its mother.

Georgie was reaching out to scratch its ear--

There was a significant tugging sensation around her throat and Georgie’s eyes flew open as she felt the abominable hat dislodge from her head and be pull away on the breeze that had slithered through the deck like an unsuspecting serpent. Georgie picked up the skirts of a similarly atrocious gown--once again a by product of her aunts supposed “good” taste in high fashion--and began to move quickly after the hat. Eyes were drawn to her and quickly gave their disapproval at her lack of decorum as she ungracefully reached for the hat several times; each time it slipped through her fingers.

Georgie stomped her foot in frustration for half a moment before realizing her hat was going to be whisked over the edge of the railing.

It wouldn’t be too tragic, it is a very ugly hat after all. She thought to herself with a silent giggle, but she quickly reprimanded herself for such thoughts. Even though the majority of her trunk consisted of clothes she would rather burn at the stake than wear to dinner, they were still a gift from her only living relative.

“Oh no!” she called out as a stronger gust gave higher flight to her hat. It was doomed for sure.







James stood upon the bridge of the Titanic looking out at the vast blue carpet that lay before them. He was the third officer aboard the ship and it was a responsibility he took seriously and was well adjusted to. He found quickly he much preferred to give directions to men who had the only goal of keeping their passengers safe upon the maiden voyage of such a large metal beast. This was the work that didn’t raise his anxiety levels beyond their normal range.

He glanced over his shoulder at the three great black smoke stacks standing at attention. The great black smoke wound its way into the sky and brought back chilling memories.

James frowned slightly and shook the thoughts off. He had seen battle only a handful of times and they were times he wanted to forget. The responsibility of those lives was such a difficult burden to carry. The few men he had lost during his time in the royal navy were stones upon his back that he would carry until he was laid to rest in his own grave.

“You brood too much.” A voice came from his side and James was startled out of his reverie.

“Beg pardon?” he asked the violently redheaded man--Michael O’Donnahugh.

“You’re concentrating too much upon depressing topics. It’s showing on your face.” Michael pointed at the corner of James’ eyes where there were faint stress lines beginning to show. “You should take a break, go explore a bit, go scope out what ladies might be waiting for a knight in shining armor to come and rescue them.” Michael winked and punched James lightly in the shoulder.

James only shook his head. He had known Michael only a couple of months, but the burly Irishman meant well.

He took the man’s advice, if only to escape him, and went down to the first class promenade deck. He caught sight of a woman chasing a hat down the railing quite a ways down the deck before turning to the people around him.

He sighed and looked out at the fiery seascape that stretched between water and sky. His mind was pulled back to a young woman with a dash of freckles on her nose and eyes like that of a doe. James was not here to scope out any women who might be readily willing to fall into the bed of an officer. In fact, he rather fancied forgetting one woman who had left quite the gnarled scars over his heart.