Many of the passengers aboard Titanic pointed to the teak-wood sailing ship that looked for all the world like the past trying to catch the future of shipping in these waters—a sense of sadness filtering into some who watched the merchant ship. She flew the Union Jack as did Titanic. But while Trinity might leave men with a sense of both wonder and longing for the open seas, Titanic left men in wonder at her sheer power, her size, and her speed alone. Titanic promised so much for the future of mankind, while making ships like Trinity obsolete relics of a fast disappearing past.
No schooner could possibly keep up with the White Star giants; no schooner could hold a tenth of what Titanic held in the way of ocean-going merchandise; no other ship, save the largest of the Cunard Line, could compete with a ship that had not one but three giant piston-operated, motorized propellers in the water.
By 11:30am, with the second and third class passengers in place, tucked away in the lower decks, came the arrival of the first-class boat-train, a far nicer transport than enjoyed by second and third class passengers. This train had arrived from London at dockside, and from it the first-class passengers were boarded in orderly fashion. Each party escorted to waiting cabins. By noon, Titanic was prepared to cast off.
From the bridge, the captain gave the order, and using a familiar signal, the great steam whistle, the necessary tug boats were given the go ahead to move the massive ship from the newly built dock, created especially for Olympic and Titanic.
All appeared in order as the tugs, working like bulldogs, moved the 53,000 tons called Titanic, and soon—perhaps too soon—the tugs had her in the River Test. She would soon be in a smooth downstream passage under her own steam. Cheers from the crowd gathered at the docks, and return cheers from every deck aboard Titanic, filled the air, sending birds screeching into the air. The noise only increased when onlookers and passengers alike saw that Titanic, a ship as large as the tallest of skyscrapers, free of the tugboats, was now operating under its own steam.
All the jubilation was suddenly cut short, replaced by gasps and then silenced when spectators saw how the water displaced by Titanic's movement parallel to the docks caused all six mooring ropes on a typical-sized ocean liner, belonging to a rival shipping line, to snap and break. This sent the Cunard line’s New York twisting, her stern to swinging wildly toward White Star’s Titanic. Quick orders from Captain Smith and swift action by Wilde at the wheel narrowly averted a collision with New York; in fact, they’d come within a mere four feet of scuttling New York and possibly damaging Titanic before she started her maiden voyage.
Alastair Ransom and others aboard Trinity thought it certain that Titanic would strike the standard-sized cruise liner near her. For an instant, Ransom imagined Titanic having to be towed back into Belfast for repairs. He pictured Titanic’s long, painful limping voyage back to Belfast. The White Star Line embarrassed again—as they had been with Olympic.
Alastair then imagined everyone spending this afternoon disembarking with rain checks to board the next White Star ship leaving for their destination—disappointing men like Titanic’s chief operating officer, J. Bruce Ismay, the architect, Thomas Andrews, John J. Astor and family as well as other prominent families, not to mention Major Butt, rumored to be on a secretive mission as an envoy to and from the Pope and President Taft.
As it was, their departure today would be delayed, as Titanic now bobbed sideways in the river channel. From the perspective of those aboard the approaching Trinity, it appeared obvious to any thinking person—including her Captain Peter McEachern—that something was amiss. Early on, he’d put his spyglass into good use, chronicling what was happening before handing the glass over to Ransom.
As Alastair viewed the mishap, McEachern said in his ear, “The gods are with us, mate. Ye might make it aboard that floating palace in time after all.”
“Our luck’s held so far.”
Captain McEachern then commented on the men piloting the giant ship. “It shows a lack of familiarity with ships of such size by those handling them, I should say, but then who has handled such monsters before? Don’t know that I’d do any better. Fact is, from what I gather, the entire method of steering the damn things is backwards!”
“For men like us, Captain, seems the world is rushing away from us.”
“Indeed, Constable. It be a strange if marvelous future we’re all headed toward.”
“Please, call me Alastair.”
“It’s our good luck, it is,” said Declan after a turn on the spyglass.
“Do you think we’ve time now to catch them, sir?” asked Thomas of Captain McEachern.
The weathered old schooner captain smiled. “Aye, if they don’t take us for a bunch of pirates trying to board her.” He laughed heartily at his own remark, and they all joined in. The idea of their small ship beside the monster and being taken for pirates made them all laugh at the very notion.
One in the afternoon came and Titanic had resumed its twenty-four mile trip downstream to the English Channel en route to Cherbourg, France where additional passengers were to board. Captain Smith and those on the bridge saw the schooner racing toward them, now in the Channel, and all aboard the schooner wildly waved, some jumping up and down. Crewmen and passengers on board Titanic waved back at the excited men on the now dwarfed schooner which, even with her masts, was barely a flea on Titanic’s scale.
From the deck of Trinity, Ransom saw the now closed and sealed wide cargo bay doors that he’d stood before at Slip 401 back in Belfast the night they’d first searched the ship for O’Toole and Fiore. But even if he could at his age swing over on a rope like some swashbuckling pirate, he saw no hold on the moving ship. They had arrived alongside Titanic and bobbed in the water like a cork, and they saw a pair of Titanic officers waving them off and shouting in bullhorns to stand away.
McEachern had to heed the warnings too, realizing late just how much displacement Titanic was capable of and angry at himself for not taking it into consideration, especially after witnessing what’d happened to the New York. Trinity was hardly the New York, and Captain McEachern had to veer off and pull away, turning to ride the enormous waves hitting her now.
Thomas, not a comfortable traveler by ship the whole way, became terribly green before turning white after heaving up everything from his gut into the sea as he doubled over the side rail. Declan, holding his back and watching his friend retch, began feeling queasy himself. By comparison, the seasoned sailors aboard seemed to enjoy the hobby-horsing the deck began to do, and Ransom grabbed hold of the closest mast, wondering if he shouldn’t lash himself to it, recalling how he had died in his premonition. The waters here were deep enough and cold enough to do the job.
Crew and captain aboard Trinity began laughing first at Thomas, then at Declan, and then at Ransom who indeed began to lash himself to the mast.
Captain McEachern had hoisted the white flag—international symbol of surrender and he had earlier hoisted the red flag—which meant a number of things—such as ship in distress, in need of help, or a request to come alongside and board. None of which those in the bridge of Titanic, apparently, could see or wished to see. Nor did they pay the least attention to every crewman aboard Trinity waving hands, jumping up and down until the waves created by Titanic slammed into the schooner.