Hurt/Comfort – Hilferuf (für's Team)
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120_minutenTitel: Chance
Challenge: Hurt/Comfort – Hilferuf (für's Team)
Fandom: Titanic
Charaktere: Unnamed first officer
Sprache: Englisch
Kommentar: Die Rolle der Californian in dem ganzen Titanic-Drama ist sehr umstritten, da unklar ist, ob sie die Titanic überhaupt rechtzeitig erreicht hätte, selbst wenn sie ihren Telegraphen nicht in der Nacht abgeschaltet hätte. Aber die Vorstellung, dass sie hätte helfen können, ist so bitter, dass ich etwas dazu schreiben musste.
The first officer frowned at the sight. He wasn’t sure, but there seemed something off about her.
Chance
The first officer of the Californian leaned back against the railing and looked up into the night sky. There was nothing better than a walk on deck if one couldn’t sleep, with only the stars as company and surrounded by the quiet sounds of the ship swaying around its anchor. But it was a cold night and he tugged his coat tighter around his shoulders as he shivered. Then he turned around and looked out over the water. The dark sea was almost the same color as the sky above, though pale shadows could be seen amidst, pieces of ice that had come down from Greenland and had halted the Californian’s journey for the night. Far away, a bright spot was shining just under the horizon, barely visible to the naked eye.
He stopped a patrolling officer as he walked past him. “Mr. Reid, which ship is that?”
The man saluted him and then stepped to the railing next to him. „We’re not quite sure, Sir. But the lookout believes it to be a large Ocean Liner.”
The first officer nodded. “What ships have been reported to be in the vicinity?”
“Only the Titanic, Sir. We had contact with her a few hours ago to warn her of the ice field.”
“How did she respond?”
“Quite rudely, Sir. They wanted to carry on and didn’t at all care for our message interrupting a sending of their own. But then they don’t have much to fear, they’re much bigger than us.”
“Thank you”, the first officer said, a clear sign that the man could take his leave.
Yet he hesitated. “But, Sir.”
The first officer turned towards him. “What is it?”
“There were signal flares about half an hour ago”, he said, “fired from that direction.”
The first officer leaned forward. “Was this reported to the captain?”
“Yes, Sir. But they were white, not red like distress signals. We tried to contact them with a lamp, but they didn’t answer. The captain thought they were most likely just throwing another one of their parties.”
The first officer fell silent, long enough for the man to inquire: “Sir? Would you like to see her for yourself?” He offered him a pair of binoculars.
“I would very much like that, thank you”, he said, accepting them. With their aid, the small bright spot indeed became a ship, the arrangement of the lights suggesting a bigger vessel with multiple decks. Yet the first officer frowned at the sight. He wasn’t sure, but there seemed something off about her.
“Take a look at her yourself”, he said as he returned the binoculars, “and tell me what you see.”
He waited as the man focused on the other ship. “I’m not sure, Sir”, he said then. “Sight can be tricky out here, the cold air distorts the view.” And at the inquiring stare of his superior officer he added: “But she looks…queer. Like she is listing.”
“Yes, she does”, the first officer mumbled. Then he suddenly patted the man on the shoulder with a curt “Thank you” before he turned to walk down the deck with wide steps. As he made his way toward the quarters, he mumbled: “There’s something wrong with that ship. I can feel it.”
The man responsible for the telegraph was not at all happy to be woken at this ungodly hour, but he didn’t get a chance to complain.
“I need to use the telegraph”, the first officer ordered before the man had even fully risen out of bed.
“Sir?” the man asked with a yawn, his eyes barely open.
“Right now!” the first officer ordered.
He barely had a chance to slip into his coat before he was dragged out into the cold night and towards the communication room. As soon as they had unlocked the door and the man sat at the table, the first officer commanded: “Contact the titanic, ask them if everything’s alright over there.”
The man looked up at him as his fingers were already flipping the necessary switches and the telegraph came to life. “They will think we’re fretting, Sir.”
“I don’t care what they think!” the first officer said loudly. “Wake them up if necessary!”
“Yes, Sir.” The man put on the headphones, but before his finger could even touch the transmitter to phrase the question, he froze as a series of beeps came over the line. He had studied the morse alphabet for months and could translate a message in his sleep if necessary, but one needn’t much knowledge to understand this: Three short, three long, three short. Pause. Three short, three long, three short. SOS.
“Oh, shit.” Hastily, the man grabbed a bit of paper and a pencil to translate the rest of the message under the first officer’s stare. “It’s kind of erratic, Sir”, he said then, “but there’s mention of an iceberg and…they’re sinking.” He looked up at the first officer with wide eyes. “The Titanic is sinking.”
For a moment neither of them moved.
Then the first officer ordered: “Answer them immediately, tell them we’re on our way!”
A series of beeps followed him out the door as he rushed down the corridor. He grabbed the first man that crossed his way and ordered: “Wake the captain, tell him it’s an emergency! And the chief engineer as well, we need the boilers under pressure as soon as possible! And I want signal flares in the air right this minute!”
The man just stared at him dazedly for a moment, his boring patrol interrupted by something he hid not yet understand. But a sharp “Now!” of his superior officer shook him out of it. “Yes, Sir!”
Within moments, every single man on the Californian was wide awake. The once silent night was filled with noise as the ship descended from peaceful serenity into organized chaos, men shouting orders as the anchor was lifted and the engines below came to life with a deep roar, shaking everything on board.
Nobody knew whether they even stood a chance to reach the Titanic in time. But as they carefully began to make their way through the icefield the first officer gripped the railing on the bridge and thought At least now we can try.
Challenge: Hurt/Comfort – Hilferuf (für's Team)
Fandom: Titanic
Charaktere: Unnamed first officer
Sprache: Englisch
Kommentar: Die Rolle der Californian in dem ganzen Titanic-Drama ist sehr umstritten, da unklar ist, ob sie die Titanic überhaupt rechtzeitig erreicht hätte, selbst wenn sie ihren Telegraphen nicht in der Nacht abgeschaltet hätte. Aber die Vorstellung, dass sie hätte helfen können, ist so bitter, dass ich etwas dazu schreiben musste.
The first officer frowned at the sight. He wasn’t sure, but there seemed something off about her.
Chance
The first officer of the Californian leaned back against the railing and looked up into the night sky. There was nothing better than a walk on deck if one couldn’t sleep, with only the stars as company and surrounded by the quiet sounds of the ship swaying around its anchor. But it was a cold night and he tugged his coat tighter around his shoulders as he shivered. Then he turned around and looked out over the water. The dark sea was almost the same color as the sky above, though pale shadows could be seen amidst, pieces of ice that had come down from Greenland and had halted the Californian’s journey for the night. Far away, a bright spot was shining just under the horizon, barely visible to the naked eye.
He stopped a patrolling officer as he walked past him. “Mr. Reid, which ship is that?”
The man saluted him and then stepped to the railing next to him. „We’re not quite sure, Sir. But the lookout believes it to be a large Ocean Liner.”
The first officer nodded. “What ships have been reported to be in the vicinity?”
“Only the Titanic, Sir. We had contact with her a few hours ago to warn her of the ice field.”
“How did she respond?”
“Quite rudely, Sir. They wanted to carry on and didn’t at all care for our message interrupting a sending of their own. But then they don’t have much to fear, they’re much bigger than us.”
“Thank you”, the first officer said, a clear sign that the man could take his leave.
Yet he hesitated. “But, Sir.”
The first officer turned towards him. “What is it?”
“There were signal flares about half an hour ago”, he said, “fired from that direction.”
The first officer leaned forward. “Was this reported to the captain?”
“Yes, Sir. But they were white, not red like distress signals. We tried to contact them with a lamp, but they didn’t answer. The captain thought they were most likely just throwing another one of their parties.”
The first officer fell silent, long enough for the man to inquire: “Sir? Would you like to see her for yourself?” He offered him a pair of binoculars.
“I would very much like that, thank you”, he said, accepting them. With their aid, the small bright spot indeed became a ship, the arrangement of the lights suggesting a bigger vessel with multiple decks. Yet the first officer frowned at the sight. He wasn’t sure, but there seemed something off about her.
“Take a look at her yourself”, he said as he returned the binoculars, “and tell me what you see.”
He waited as the man focused on the other ship. “I’m not sure, Sir”, he said then. “Sight can be tricky out here, the cold air distorts the view.” And at the inquiring stare of his superior officer he added: “But she looks…queer. Like she is listing.”
“Yes, she does”, the first officer mumbled. Then he suddenly patted the man on the shoulder with a curt “Thank you” before he turned to walk down the deck with wide steps. As he made his way toward the quarters, he mumbled: “There’s something wrong with that ship. I can feel it.”
The man responsible for the telegraph was not at all happy to be woken at this ungodly hour, but he didn’t get a chance to complain.
“I need to use the telegraph”, the first officer ordered before the man had even fully risen out of bed.
“Sir?” the man asked with a yawn, his eyes barely open.
“Right now!” the first officer ordered.
He barely had a chance to slip into his coat before he was dragged out into the cold night and towards the communication room. As soon as they had unlocked the door and the man sat at the table, the first officer commanded: “Contact the titanic, ask them if everything’s alright over there.”
The man looked up at him as his fingers were already flipping the necessary switches and the telegraph came to life. “They will think we’re fretting, Sir.”
“I don’t care what they think!” the first officer said loudly. “Wake them up if necessary!”
“Yes, Sir.” The man put on the headphones, but before his finger could even touch the transmitter to phrase the question, he froze as a series of beeps came over the line. He had studied the morse alphabet for months and could translate a message in his sleep if necessary, but one needn’t much knowledge to understand this: Three short, three long, three short. Pause. Three short, three long, three short. SOS.
“Oh, shit.” Hastily, the man grabbed a bit of paper and a pencil to translate the rest of the message under the first officer’s stare. “It’s kind of erratic, Sir”, he said then, “but there’s mention of an iceberg and…they’re sinking.” He looked up at the first officer with wide eyes. “The Titanic is sinking.”
For a moment neither of them moved.
Then the first officer ordered: “Answer them immediately, tell them we’re on our way!”
A series of beeps followed him out the door as he rushed down the corridor. He grabbed the first man that crossed his way and ordered: “Wake the captain, tell him it’s an emergency! And the chief engineer as well, we need the boilers under pressure as soon as possible! And I want signal flares in the air right this minute!”
The man just stared at him dazedly for a moment, his boring patrol interrupted by something he hid not yet understand. But a sharp “Now!” of his superior officer shook him out of it. “Yes, Sir!”
Within moments, every single man on the Californian was wide awake. The once silent night was filled with noise as the ship descended from peaceful serenity into organized chaos, men shouting orders as the anchor was lifted and the engines below came to life with a deep roar, shaking everything on board.
Nobody knew whether they even stood a chance to reach the Titanic in time. But as they carefully began to make their way through the icefield the first officer gripped the railing on the bridge and thought At least now we can try.
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