Chapter Text
10 April 1912
“Look sharp, Thomas. Sit tall, straight back; no slouching.”
Thomas glanced across the car, but the man in the front passenger seat hadn’t even looked at him. “Yes, father.”
A hand squeezed his. His fiancé and best friend, Teresa Agnes, smiled warmly at him. “It’ll be okay,” she mouthed, and he returned the smile, albeit tightly.
As they pulled up to Southampton dock, the crowds of people began to thicken. Their driver honked the horn. “Clear the way!” he called out the window before quickly closing it.
Thomas glanced at his pocket watch. “It’s nearly midday,” he murmured to Teresa, slipping the timepiece back into the breast pocket of his suit.
Teresa gave a wicked smirk. “I know your father would personally stop the ship to make sure we made it aboard,” she whispered, nodding at the man in the front seat.
“Would probably bribe the captain, too,” Thomas agreed, fighting back a grin. Teresa gave a quiet giggle, her eyes twinkling.
Thankfully, due to the crowd noise outside, his father Janson had not heard a single word uttered between them.
Thomas craned his neck, peering out the window as best he could. So far, there wasn’t much to see. “She’s the world’s largest ship,” he said. “You would think we could see her by now.”
The driver chuckled, tooting the horn again. “You will in a moment, lad.”
“Driver,” Janson said sharply.
A pause. “Very good, sir.”
His heart giving a flutter of anxiety, Thomas squeezed Teresa’s hand once again. He longed to crank open the window, but knew it would bring on a barrage of complaints about the noise. Goodness, it was deafening even from inside the car. He felt as if he were slowly suffocating, both from the chaos outside and the tension within.
A few minutes later, their vehicle came to a stop with the clank of the handbrake. “Mr Greene,” the driver said with a nod to Janson.
Thomas almost couldn’t get out fast enough. “Thank you,” he said to the driver, who gave him a small, earnest smile even as Janson grudgingly tipped him.
Stepping out of the vehicle, Thomas almost fell over, staring up over the crowds of people in awe. “Teresa!” he gasped, offering a hand to help her out of the car.
To put it simply, the RMS Titanic was beautiful. She stretched down the Southampton dock, a black hull as long as four city blocks with pristine white terraces above; sitting atop her majestic figure were four buff-coloured funnels with a black trim, smoke trailing from them.
“What a wonderful ship!” Teresa exclaimed, gazing up at the vessel from beneath a wide-brimmed hat.
“The newspapers say she’s unsinkable,” Thomas recalled.
“It is unsinkable!” Janson proclaimed. “God himself could not sink this ship.”
Thomas fought the urge to roll his eyes.
“I don’t believe any ship is unsinkable, given the right conditions,” Teresa mused.
“Well, the wrong ones,” Thomas added, smiling as he took Teresa’s arm; thank goodness she had the gall to stand up to his father, even in these small moments.
“Let’s agree to disagree,” Janson said.
A short, stocky White Star porter hastened over. “Sir - sir! They’re about to make the last call for luggage. You have to check your baggage through the main terminal -”
“If you could kindly see my valets,” Janson interrupted, gesturing to the two men standing at the rear of the car, unloading the suitcases, “they will assist you.”
The moment he turned away, checking his pocket watch, Thomas slipped the porter a bill for his father’s rudeness. “Thank you, sir,” he muttered.
The porter smiled. “The pleasure’s mine, lad.”
A whistle blew distantly, and Janson snapped to attention. “Thomas, Teresa,” he smiled, “let’s make our way to the boarding gate.”
Adjusting his hat, Thomas took Teresa’s arm, and they set off into the mayhem.
The atmosphere felt similar to the carnivals Thomas had seen - although, never attended - in his youth; he could even hear a band playing from somewhere along the dock. The crowd pressed in from all sides, waving and hollering, the cacophony verging on overwhelming. He was grateful for the barriers that provided them with a clear path to the gangway and up onto the ship; it would have been easy to get lost in the chaos.
In one of the steerage sections they passed, Thomas could see the poorer folk receiving health inspections, their hair getting combed for lice and their teeth examined. There were different entrances down the side of the vessel for the different classes, but Thomas and his party had been directed to yet another one due to their late arrival.
Fashionably late, as Janson would have described it.
He could barely stop himself gawping up at the towering hull in a most undignified manner, the sheer scale of Titanic suddenly becoming clear to him. Thomas gripped the railing to keep himself steady, his other hand holding tight to Teresa, and a moment later they crossed the short stretch of water and stepped foot aboard, the hollers of the crowd quietening almost immediately. He noted a brass sign on the hall, announcing that they were currently on D Deck.
“Welcome to Titanic,” a uniformed officer greeted them at the top of the gangplank, smiling proudly. “Welcome aboard!”
The first thing that hit Thomas was the smell of the fresh paint on the walls, the carpet plush beneath his shoes. He realised that they were truly the first group of passengers to experience Titanic; they had the honour of witnessing the ship in all her glory before she was shared with the rest of the world.
Following the stream of first class passengers, they swept through the hallways and up elegantly carved staircases, peering in at charming and comfortable first class spaces.
As they passed a series of windows showing the boat deck, Thomas hastily made a decision. “I’m going to see the ship off,” he announced. “Teresa, would you care to join me?”
He knew it would be his last breath of freedom before the voyage commenced.
Teresa smiled, her eyes sad as if she knew what he was thinking. “I would be delighted, Tom.”