Shipsmith turned away from the crewponies, who were beginning to figure out the davits. The deck was still empty, but for crew. He yelled over the shrieking steam at Merdock, “Where are all the passengers!”
“They’ve all gone back inside, Sir! Too damn cold and noisy for them!”
He glanced at his pocket-watch and started for the grand staircase.
__
A large number of First Class passengers gathered near the base of the Grand Staircase, getting indignant to various degrees about the situation. One, Mossy Brown, snagged the young steward that had helped her with her bags earlier, “What’s doing, sonny? You’ve got us all trussed up and now we’re cooling our heels.” The steward stumbled back a little at the forcefulness of the request, but recovered quickly and bowed to her.
“Sorry, Ma’am. Let me go find out.”
The band started playing, roused from sleep to play calming music, in order to allay orders.
Hockley stormed into the foyer, life-belts lying across his back as an almost afterthought. Beside him, Rose stumbled along, like she was in a trance, or asleep, bouncing off Lovejoy and Kale alternately as she managed to not quite walk in a straight line.
“Celestia damned Equestrians, doing everything by the damned book.”
“Now, Kale. There is no need for such foul language,” Truth turned to her maid, “Truly, please go turn the heater on in my room, so it won’t be too cold when we get back.”
Lovejoy stopped the maid as she passed, and pressed a life-belt into her hooves, “Do not waste your time.” His face said more now, to the mare, than any words he ever could have. All his cards were on the table, and there was no more time for bluffing. Not to the help, anyway.
Shipsmith trotted up to the base of the stairs and stopped, staring at the clock. Every tick was like being punched in the heart, and every tock made his own head hurt. Rose saw his expression and moved towards him, “I saw the iceberg Mr. Shipsmith. And I see it in your eyes. Please, tell me the truth.”
Without tone, or any semblance of personality left, the stallion spoke, “The ship will sink.”
“You’re certain?”
“Yes. In an hour or so…All this…My life’s work…Will be at the bottom of the Atlantic.”
“Celestia.”
Kale reached them and froze up. The Titanic? Sinking?
“Tell only who you must. I don’t want to be responsible for a panic. And get to a boat quickly. Don’t wait. You remember what I told you about the boats?” Shipsmith sighed.
Rose nodded, “Yes, I understand. Thank you.”
The stallion trotted off, urging other passengers to put on their life-belts and get to the boats.
__
Lovejoy wrapped Jack’s fore-hooves around a pipe, cuffing them back together. The two looked at each-other. Two gamblers, all the cards in play, and only a few chips left on either side. A messenger, one of the ones from the hold, co-opted into duty as an address system, still coal-faced, darted into the room and stopped abruptly, wings flaring almost to the wall, “Thank Celestia! Sir, you are requested by the Purser, Urgently.”
The Master-at-Arms looked at his prisoner, cuffed to the pipe. Lovejoy nodded, “Go. I can watch him,” he slid a pearl-hilted revolver out of his jacket. The Master-at-Arms nodded, and tossed the hoof-cuff key to Lovejoy.
“Let them know I am on my way,” the stallion stepped out into the hall and started towards the stairs as the Pegasus shot off, wings missing the walls by mere hairs-breadths.
Lovejoy flipped the key in the air and caught it in his teeth before tucking it into his coat pocket.
__
Harried Bridle nervously spoke into the phone lying on the desk, “Carpathia says they’re making seventeen knots, full steam for them, Sir.”
Captain Smith replied, voice shaky but still in control, “And she’s the only one who’s responding?”
“The only one close, Sir. She says she can be here in four hours. No less.”
“Four hours…” Smith’s voice took on a somber tone as the full enormity of the calamity struck him like a hammer, “Thank you, Bridle. Continue broadcasting.”
The phone clicked off, and Smith placed it back on the cradle before turning to the blackness before the wheelhouse, the ripple of water already peeking over the edges of the well-deck, “Sweet Celestia.”
__
Officer Light-foot looked out over the assembled crowd. Nobles in various states of undress. One soft-featured mare was actually bare-hoofed. He had never seen that before. A few others only wore robes, stockings maybe. The restaurant Maitre is still in his top hat and coat, the restaurant having not quite closed before the impact. Some of the late diners wore life-belts over velvet gowns, scarves, and heavy jewelry. Some held books, small dogs, even their jewelry cases in hoof.
Seeing the captain walking up, he moved to speak, but stopped at the passive look on the Captain’s face. His own face fell, but he quickly regained his composure, cupping his hooves around his muzzle to shout into the stallion’s ear, “Hadn’t we better get the mares and foals into the boats sir?”
Captain Smith nodded, distractedly. His fire was gone. The great stallion who had led, was gone now. Technically, that left Merdock in charge, but with that stallion on the other side of the ship, handling those boats, he was definitively in charge here.
He turned to the crew and started shouting, using his magic to amplify his voice, “Right! Start the loading! Mares and foals!”
Just as he finished shouting, the earsplitting din of the steam bellowing out of the iron pillars cut off abruptly. The sudden unearthy silence carried his words, echoing across the deck.
The band leader raised his violin, “Colts, Number tenty-six. Ready, and…” An elegant dance waltz burst forth from their instruments. The music wafted across the ship, very slightly brightening the mood as Light-foot tried to urge several mares into one of the waiting boats.
“Ladies, please. Step into the boat.”
One familiar mare, one he remembered from the tour earlier, Mossy Brown, stretched a hoof out onto the boat, trying not to look down. Getting both fore-hooves onboard, she made a half-leap, kicking her rear-hooves into the boat as well. She barely managed to stay upright as it swung away from the ship, then back, “It’s alright ladies. It’ll hold.”
A second mare leaned out, and with Mossy’s help, climbed into the boat, “You just watch. They’ll load us into these silly boats to freeze for a few hours, then we’ll all be back on the ship by breakfast.”
__
Kale, Rose, and Truth made their way up onto the deck near the band, and started towards the half empty boat with Mossy Brown in it. Truth started to turn back, “My brooch. I left my brooch in my room, I must have it!”
Before she was able to get very far, Kale, dignified as he was, grabbed her tail in his teeth and pulled her back. She looked at him in confusion as he spit out the shampoo-scented strands, puzzled by this uncharacteristic action.
“Truth, stay here.”
The mare froze in fear for the first time in her life. Never before had she known such terror as that induced by the cold look on Kale’s face. Was he terrified, or just putting on a façade.
__
Chaos filled the steerage hallways, stewards pushing their way through throngs of passengers of all species and culture. Some wore life-belts, others wore little to nothing.
“I told the stupid sods no luggage. Aw, bloody Tartarus!” He threw up his hooves at the sight of a family pulling their luggage down the corridor, and blocking it off completely, “C’mon, help me get this mess cleared out.”
Fierce Honor looked at his new friend and groaned, pointing at the pile-up, “Tommy?”
We’re almost to the stairwell. Let’s go,” the two started up a side passage, bypassing the blockage, and reaching the bottom of the Third-Class stairway. Families stood at the bottom, including the young moose Honor had fallen for. She smiled back at him and they embraced, before she pointed up the stairs, mumbling something in Norwegian.
Tommy took to the air, flapping up the stairwell to the top, where an iron gate was shut in the path. Several stewards and crew stood on the other side, one speaking to a mare already pressed against the gate, “Miss, it’s not yet time to go up to the boats. Please stay calm.”
Nearby, an Earth mare hugged her colt close, looking out at the steward. “What are we doing mummy?”
“Waiting dear. When they finish putting the First Class ponies in the boats, they’ll be startin’ with us, and we’ll want to be ready, won’t we.” The colt smiled at her, and stood as tall as he was able, squaring his shoulders in a mimicry of a noble stance.
__
The boat was less than half full when Merdock decided it was time, “Lower away! By the left and right together, Steady colts!” The boat began down, then lurched as the line started slipping through the blocks. The mares onboard gasped, some clinging to their foals as the boat started swinging down to the water, twenty meters below.
__
Jack looked out the porthole in the Master-at-Arms’ office. Water had already passed it, and was starting to leak in through the side. Lovejoy was leaning against the table, rolling a bullet down it as the angle increased ever-more.
“I believe this ship may sink,” Lovejoy crossed over to Jack and looked him in the eye, “Now, as a token of our appreciation,” his tone made it very clear he didn’t appreciate what Jack had done, and the hoof to Jack’s abdomen made it more clear, “Compliments of Mr. Hockley. Your turn.”
The stallion turned and left the room, smiling to himself. He had called the colt’s bluff well, and held all the cards still. A last second raise just made his pot bigger.
Jack gasped for air as he leaned on the pipe, watching the slow trickle of water through the edge of the glass. It wasn’t meant to be submerged. It wouldn’t hold for long.
__
The first rocket took to the skies, launched by Officer Boxhall, leaving stars of white floating through the air.
Bright Island stared in shock at it for a few more moments before frantically moving over to the officers, shouting, “There is no time to waste!” With a terrified shout, he waved at the crew of one boat, “Lower away! Lower away! Lower away!”
Fifth Officer Lowe looked at Island for a moment, uncomprehending, “Get out of the way, you fool!”
“Do you know who I am?”
Lowe, not having a photographic memory for cutie-marks, and not being able to see one under all the noble garments, shook his head, and squared his shoulders to the stallion, “You’re a passenger, and I’m a ship’s bloody officer! Now do what you’re told!” He turned to the other crew, “Steady colts! Stand by the falls! Metric! Cumulus! Get your bird-brained flanks down there and guide the boats!”
Island shrugged away, “Right, yes, Quite sorry.”