Date: Monday, The Fifteenth Day of April 1912
Place: Lifeboat 13 – North Atlantic Ocean
Time: Just After Two O'Clock in the Morning

As we were being lowered from Titanic, I looked up and saw Papa standing at the rail. He looked down at us for a long moment—then disappeared from view.

Anneliese and I were still crying. I think Momma was, too.

The ropes creaked and groaned as our lifeboat dropped lower. Suddenly, a huge stream of water came pouring from the side of the ship. It looked like it was being pumped out from somewhere—three or four feet wide and rushing toward us.

The men aboard shouted and grabbed the oars, using them to push us away from the side of the ship. Just as we drifted clear, another lifeboat was coming down directly above us.

We all screamed.

It was Lifeboat 15, and it was heading straight for us.

Luckily, someone stopped the lowering just in time. The boat above hung there—suspended just a few feet above our heads.

Then, the ropes on our own lifeboat jammed. We couldn't move.

One of the men had to cut the falls free so we could escape from the side of the ship. I don't believe in superstitions, but I suddenly realized: we were in Lifeboat 13.

"Hey!" one of the women called out. "We have no one to man this boat!"

"I'm not a sailor," said a man near the oars, "but I've been leading the firemen down in the boiler rooms since the start of the voyage."

His name was Frederick Barrett.

"Anyone want to elect him to take charge?" the woman asked.

We all agreed.

"Alright then," Frederick shouted, "Let's take up the oars. We need to row away from the ship."

The men obeyed. The boat began to move through the black water. I watched their arms working, the oars dipping in and out of the sea.

I could still hear the music playing on Titanic's deck. The sound was faint—but it was there.

I had a feeling those musicians weren't going to leave.

I turned and looked back.

The stern of the ship was rising slowly out of the water. I could see the giant propellers, gleaming under the flare of the rockets still being fired.

Each rocket lit the sky for just a moment, casting light over the waves. I thought about all the things that could be swimming beneath us.

Fish... sharks... whales.

What if a whale came up and flipped our boat over?

I tried to push the thought away.

Anneliese had moved to sit with Ruth, the girl from earlier. They were talking quietly, sharing the blanket. At least she wasn't bored.

Momma sat in silence, staring at the ship.

I bet she was thinking about Papa.

I thought of him too—and began to cry again.

Momma pulled me close and wrapped her arms around me.

Date: Monday, The Fifteenth Day of April 1912
Place: Lifeboat 13 – North Atlantic Ocean
Time: Nearing Two-Fifteen in the Morning

Anneliese and I tried to keep ourselves from getting too bored by playing another clapping game.

Some people in the lifeboat didn't appreciate the noise. They were restless, and one or two gave us sharp glances.

I sighed and turned toward the ship.

My eyes widened.

Titanic's bow was now deep in the ocean. The stern—the back of the ship—was lifted high into the sky, tilting more than it had before. I couldn't imagine what it would be like trying to stay balanced on her now.

The pianos I had played on... they must have shifted, or even crashed by now.

I thought about the beautifully polished grand piano in First Class.

I might have been the last person to ever play it.

I looked down into the dark water and sighed again.

We had drifted farther from the ship. The music that once echoed over the water was gone.

There was only the sound of waves lapping against the side of our lifeboat, and the murmurs and soft cries of people in other boats nearby.

I glanced at a young girl sitting near the edge of our boat. She was fast asleep, bundled in someone's coat.

I was getting tired too.

I looked over at Anneliese. She yawned.

I yawned back.

Contagious.

Our lifeboat was quiet now—one of the stillest out there. Most of the people were just staring, watching the ship.

I turned back to Titanic.

The bow was completely submerged. Only the upper decks and the tall stern remained above the water.

Just a few days ago, I'd been standing on that deck watching dolphins play, feeling like I was flying with the wind in my hair and the sun on my face.

Now... I couldn't even recognize that part of the ship anymore.

And I was freezing.

Date: Monday, The Fifteenth Day of April 1912
Place: Lifeboat 13 – North Atlantic Ocean
Time: Around 2:17–2:20 AM

I heard them.

Screams.

Even from as far away as we were, the sound was chilling.

Shrill, desperate cries echoing across the water.

I thought of Papa—how he might still be on that ship. Maybe he was one of those voices.

I thought of Captain Smith, too. Still aboard. Still commanding, perhaps. Or maybe just... waiting.

Then, I thought of Peter.

Why?

Why was I thinking of him now?

Forget Peter. He can die in heck for all I care.

I thought he was a nice man.

But he tried to hurt me. To kidnap me. I don't care what happens to him now.

I looked back at the ship. The bow continued to slip beneath the surface—slowly, but clearly.

The tilt was gone. The ship wasn't leaning anymore. The decks looked level now, but they were rising into the sky—like the ship itself was mooning the heavens.

Speaking of the moon... I looked up.

It wasn't there.

Only stars. Cold, bright stars scattered across the black sky.

Then I saw it—

A massive wave surged forward, rushing toward the second funnel.

And then—

Boom.

An enormous explosion roared from the ship.

It sounded like thunder, but deeper. Heavier. The kind you feel in your bones.

The funnel closest to the water—the first funnel—toppled and crashed into the ocean with a violent splash.

Water sprayed upward. The ship began to sink faster.

The screams grew louder. More frantic.

And then—

The lights on Titanic flickered—just for a second—then vanished in a blinding flash, like lightning had struck the ship from the inside out.

Now it was pitch dark.

Only the stars remained.

My eyes slowly adjusted. I could just make out the shape of the ship's dark silhouette.

Then—another funnel—the second—tilted, groaned, and fell.

A larger splash. More chaos.

Then—

Another explosion.

A deep, cracking sound that tore through the air—followed by a noise so loud, so wet, so awful I couldn't describe it.

And then, before my eyes, the Titanic split in half.

A massive splash thundered into the sea.

Waves raced outward in every direction—towering, foaming walls of water hurtling toward us.

Our lifeboat suddenly lurched into the air, lifted by the wave that had raced across the ocean from the breaking ship.

For a terrifying second, I thought we might tip—but we landed safely back on the water.

The little girl who had been sleeping woke up with a start. She clutched her coat and looked around in confusion.

Back at the Titanic, the stern—the back of the ship—was now standing upright, towering above the sea.

Even after splitting in half, it remained there, as if refusing to fall.

I stared.

Was this the end?

The broken tail of the ship bobbed for what felt like forever—though it was only a minute or two. Then, all at once, it gave in.

It slipped beneath the surface, sliding down into the black water.

Gone.

Gone forever.

I sat in silence as tears ran down my cheeks.

Anneliese and Momma were crying too.

All around us, from the nearby lifeboats, I could hear sobbing. People crying openly—not just for the ship, but for what it had taken with it.

So many men.

So many women.

So many children.

And pets.

All still aboard... when it sank to the bottom of the sea.

Their final resting place.

Date: Monday, The Fifteenth Day of April 1912
Place: Lifeboat 13 – North Atlantic Ocean
Time: Between 3:00 and 4:00 in the Morning

After what felt like hours in the dark, I finally drifted off to sleep.

Most of the passengers had, too.

I woke suddenly, heart pounding, unsure where I was for a moment.

The cold. The boat. The stars.

Then I remembered.

Momma was still awake, her arms wrapped around me and Anneliese. She was watching the sea, her face tired but calm.

On the far end of the lifeboat, Frederick Barrett sat upright, eyes scanning the horizon. Watching. Waiting.

Some of the passengers had whispered before falling asleep—saying no ship was coming. That we would die out here, just like the others... just slower.

But I didn't believe that.

I couldn't.

Something inside me said we would be rescued. I had a feeling.

"Momma," I whispered, tugging at her sleeve. "I need to go potty."

She looked down at me gently. "Oh, honey... can't you hold it?"

"No... I can't," I whimpered, close to tears.

From the other side of the lifeboat, I heard a soft chuckle.

"I won't look if she must go," Frederick said kindly, turning his back. "And I doubt anyone else will. They're all asleep."

Momma nodded. "Alright, Josephine," she said softly. "I'll hold up the blanket so no one sees."

I moved quickly, nervous and embarrassed. I didn't want anyone to notice—especially that.

But Momma shielded me carefully.

I went as fast as I could.

And when I finished, I felt better. Lighter. Less afraid.

Momma helped me wrap back up in the blanket, kissed the top of my head, and tucked me close again.

The waves rocked the boat gently as I drifted back to sleep.

Date: Monday, The Fifteenth Day of April 1912
Place: Lifeboat 13 – North Atlantic Ocean
Time: Just After Four in the Morning

I woke to the sound of a ship's horn.

At first, I wasn't sure if I had imagined it. Maybe it was just part of a dream.

But then I sat up and looked around—

Everyone was awake.

It wasn't a dream.

There, in the distance—through the early morning haze—a ship.

A real ship.

People began cheering and hugging one another.

We were being rescued.

We wouldn't die out here—not in the freezing cold, not alone in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.

As the men began rowing toward the distant ship, their voices rose up in song. I didn't sing. I just sat there, listening—smiling, knowing we were going to live.

Light in the darkness, sailor, day is at hand!
See,o'er the foaming billows, fair heaven's land,
Drearwas the voyage, sailor, now almost o'er;
Safe withinthe lifeboat, sailor, pull for the shore.Pull for the shore, sailor, pull for the shore!
Heednot the rolling waves, but bend to the oar;
Safe in thelifeboat, sailor, cling to self no more,
Leave the poorold stranded wreck and pull for the shore.Trust in the lifeboat, sailor, all else willfail;
Stronger the surges dash, and fiercer thegale;
Heed not the stormy winds, though loudly theyroar,
Watch the "Bright Morning Star," and pull forthe shore.Pull for the shore, sailor, pull for the shore!
Heednot the rolling waves, but bend to the oar;
Safe in thelifeboat, sailor, cling to self no more,
Leave the poorold stranded wreck and pull for the shore.Bright gleams the morning, sailor, uplift theeye;
Clouds and darkness disappearing, glory isnigh!
Safe in the lifeboat, sailor, singevermore,
"Glory, glory, hallelujah!"—Pull forthe shore.Pull for the shore, sailor, pull for the shore!
Heednot the rolling waves, but bend to the oar;
Safe in thelifeboat, sailor, cling to self no more,
Leave the poorold stranded wreck and pull for the shore.

---

Author's Notes:

The character of Francis Hermann, who appears in this story under the false name Peter Goodman, is inspired by a real historical figure.

In the late 19th and early 20th centuries, a man named Francis T. Hermann gained notoriety in the United States for crimes that shocked the communities he moved through. He posed as a doctor, a minister, and a trusted member of society—yet was suspected of terrible things. Authorities believed he may have murdered multiple wives, at least two of his own children, and several women who trusted him through his church or false professions. Despite investigations and warrants, he was never brought to justice. After his final suspected crimes, he disappeared without a trace.

History never found him.

That silence stayed with me.

In this story, I've imagined an ending for him—one that never came in real life. By placing a man like Francis Hermann aboard the RMS Titanic, under a false name and trusted persona, I hoped to explore the danger of those who hide in plain sight, especially through the eyes of a vulnerable child like Josephine. It's also a quiet act of justice. One the real world never offered.

No part of this story is meant to glorify or sensationalize. Rather, it is meant to give voice to the forgotten victims—those who were never believed, never named, or never found. Fiction can't change history, but sometimes it can shine light into its shadows.

And sometimes... the sea takes back what the world never could.

— Natasa Jacobs

Real Titanic Passengers in this story.

Throughout this story, you've met a few characters who weren't just part of Josephine's world—but part of real history. These passengers and crew members were aboard the RMS Titanic in April of 1912. Their lives were real, their stories documented, and their presence in this book honors both the remembered and the forgotten.

Here are the real people you've met so far:

Captain Edward John Smith

Captain Smith was the commanding officer of the Titanic. Known for his calm demeanor and dignified presence, he had served for decades with the White Star Line and was considered their most senior and experienced captain. Titanic was to be his final voyage before retirement. He was last seen on the bridge during the sinking and did not survive.

Arthur White – Second-Class Barber

Arthur White worked aboard Titanic as the second-class and crew barber, located on B Deck. Barbershops aboard ships sold more than haircuts—they also offered grooming products, small toys, postcards, and toiletries. Arthur survived the disaster by escaping on Lifeboat 10.

Agnes Charlotta Sandström

Agnes was a second-class passenger from Sweden, traveling with her two young daughters, Marguerite and Beatrice. They were headed to join Agnes's husband in San Francisco. Agnes and her children survived the sinking in Lifeboat 13.

Lawrence Beesley

A British science teacher and author, Lawrence traveled second class. After surviving in Lifeboat 13, he later wrote a memoir called The Loss of the Titanic, which remains one of the earliest and most valuable first-hand accounts of the disaster.

Ruth Becker

Ruth was just twelve years old when she boarded the Titanic in second class, traveling with her mother and younger siblings. She helped care for her baby brother during the voyage. Ruth survived in Lifeboat 13 and went on to live a full life, often sharing her story in later years.

Gretchen Longley

Gretchen was a young second-class passenger, around four years old, traveling with her family. Her father, Charles Longley, was a Baptist minister. The entire Longley family survived the sinking, and Gretchen lived to adulthood.

Marshall Drew

Marshall was a second-class child passenger, around eight years old at the time of sailing. He was traveling with his aunt and uncle to the United States. Marshall survived the disaster and later gave interviews about his memories aboard the ship, including playing games and exploring the decks—just as he does in this story when Josephine and Anneliese meet him playing quoits.

Marjorie Collyer

Marjorie was eight years old, traveling second class with her parents, Harvey and Charlotte Collyer, as they planned to start a new life in Idaho. Marjorie and her mother survived the sinking in Lifeboat 14, but tragically, her father did not. In your story, Marjorie is friendly and curious, just as she was known to be from survivor accounts.

Miss Mabel Fenwick (the woman whose room Peter/Francis entered) though not widely known in Titanic lore, was a real stewardess aboard Titanic. Though her name wasn't mentioned directly in your story, the woman whose room is accidentally entered during the Francis Hermann encounter fits the historical role of a third-class female stewardess or passenger—many of whom lived in shared quarters. She was loosely inspired by real third-class women like Eileen Alice or Annie McGowan, both of whom survived and offered testimony about life below decks.

Thomas and Patricia Otto. – Third-class passengers aboard Titanic. The couple were newlyweds immigrating to America.
Thomas Otto survived the sinking.
Patricia Otto did not survive.

Jane Quick – passenger from England, traveling with her daughters Winnifred (8) and Phyllis (2). All three survived the sinking in Lifeboat 11.

James Paul Moody – The youngest officer on Titanic. He stood bridge watch on the night of the disaster and was the officer who first responded to the iceberg warning from the look outs. He perished in the sinking. Frederick Fleet –one of the two lookouts in the crow's nest on the night of the collision. He was the man who first spotted the iceberg and rang the warning bell.

Second Officer Charles Lightoller – known for strictly enforcing the order "Women and children first!"
He did not Survive

First Officer William Murdoch – responsible for enforcing the "women and children first" rule. He helped load several boats personally, often facing emotional pleas from passengers.

Eyewitness accounts confirm he used the phrase "Lower away!" and personally kept men off boats, even when passengers begged.
He did not Survive

Frederick Barrett survived Lifeboat 13 and was noted for helping keep order and rowing through the night.