TITANIC -2

Date: Wednesday, the 10th of April, 1912
Place: RMS Titanic – Cherbourg Harbor, France
Time: Five Minutes Past Eight in the Evening

We didn't go straight to our cabin when we boarded the Titanic. Instead, we lingered out on the well deck, watching the lights of Cherbourg shimmer across the harbor like stars dancing on the water.

It was already dark. The lamplight along the shoreline glowed orange through the misty drizzle, fading slowly as the distance between ship and land began to grow.

Most of the other passengers were hurrying past us, eager to find their cabins and unpack. But a few stood like we did—quiet, still, caught in the moment.

"Isn't it a beautiful view?" Mama asked, resting her hands gently on our shoulders.

"Yes," Anneliese and I said at the same time.

We didn't get many chances to watch ships leave port. Back home, we only ever saw them pass by Großmöllen—fishing boats and merchant steamers crossing the Baltic Sea. But never anything like this.

As I stared out at the water, I thought about our house. The small garden. The windows that faced the sea. I thought of Oma and Opa, and of the things we left behind—things that wouldn't fit in our bags or follow us across the ocean.

I felt sad. But also... something else. A strange flutter in my stomach that might've been hope.

The wind picked up as the Titanic eased away from the docks, making the night air colder. Maybe it was just the ship's own motion—cutting through the water like a giant iron palace.

"We should go below," Mama said softly. "Land's out of sight now."

We turned toward the companionway. Papa had already started ahead and was speaking with two men near the rail. I didn't know what they were talking about. Mama led us onward, Anneliese trailing behind with slow, reluctant steps.

We began to descend the stairs.

Down we went. Past D Deck. Then E Deck. Then F. Then... G.

Anneliese wrinkled her nose, and I didn't blame her. The farther we went, the colder and damper it became. The paint on the walls looked old and chipped. A few rats scurried across the lower landings, vanishing into cracks like ghosts. I don't think Mama noticed—or maybe she did and pretended not to.

At the bottom of the stairwell, Mama opened a heavy door, and we stepped into a long corridor. The ceiling was low. The lamps gave off a yellow, flickering light that made the walls look sickly.

Rats again. At least three of them, weaving through the shadows like they owned the place.

"This must be it," Mama said, stopping beside a small wooden door. "Cabin G-4."

The hallway was so narrow, I could touch both walls at once if I stretched my arms out. All the doors were close together—lined up like buttons on a coat.

I wasn't surprised by the size of the cabin. Not after seeing how cramped the corridor was. But still, I had hoped for something a little nicer. Something more... grand. This was the Titanic, after all.

Inside were four narrow bunks—two on each side—with thin wool blankets tucked tight. There was a washbasin bolted to the far wall, with a cracked mirror above it.

There was a washbasin bolted to the far wall, with a cracked mirror above it

I looked around, confused.

"Where's the water closet?" I asked quietly.

Mama didn't answer right away.

Do we have to share with strangers? I wondered, suddenly nervous.

"Are you sure this is our room?" I asked, peering inside. "It looks like a closet."

"Josephine!" Mama scolded me, her tone sharp but tired.

I stepped into the room and sat on one of the narrow bunks. Anneliese followed behind me and sat down beside me without saying a word.

I looked at her. I could tell she was sad.

"I know how you feel," I whispered. "I'm sad too. But once we reach America, Papa will find us a new home. And then... maybe things will feel normal again."

She gave me a little smile—but I could tell it wasn't a full one. It was the kind of smile that tries to be brave even when your heart is still heavy.

Mama was standing just outside the cabin door, speaking with a woman near G-6. Curious, I wandered over and wrapped my arms around her waist. She rested a hand gently on my head.

"Josephine, this is Mrs. Agnes Sandström," Mama said. "She lives in America—in a place called San Francisco, California."

"Really?" I said, wide-eyed. "I heard people moved there because of all the gold."

Mrs. Sandström laughed softly. "Yes, that's true. My husband, Hjalmar, and I moved there four years ago—though the gold rush was long over by then. Most of it was found back in the '90s."

She didn't look very old—maybe a little older than Mama. I guessed she was in her early twenties, just like my parents.

"Why were you in Europe?" I asked without thinking.

"Josephine!" Mama hissed under her breath. "It's not polite for a young lady to ask personal questions."

But Mrs. Sandström smiled kindly. "That's quite all right," she said. "My daughters and I were visiting my parents in Hultsjö, and some dear friends in Forserum."

I blinked, confused.

"Sweden, my dear," she added with a gentle laugh.

"Oh," I nodded, though I still wasn't exactly sure where that was.

Just then, I glanced back toward our cabin and saw Anneliese sitting on the floor, playing jacks by herself.

I politely excused myself and returned to our small, narrow room. Mama stayed to chat with Mrs. Sandström a little longer.

"You know," I said, plopping down beside Anneliese, "it's not much fun playing jacks by yourself."

"I know," she sighed. "But what else is there to do?"

I gave her a small grin and joined the game.

A few minutes later, just as I reached Sixsies, the door opened and Papa stepped in, followed by Mama.

"Great news, everyone!" Papa said, his voice full of excitement.

Anneliese and I looked up. I was so startled, I dropped the ball—and it bounced right through the door.

Mama caught it just in time before it rolled out into the corridor.

"What is it, Papa?" Anneliese asked.

"I got a temporary job—here on the Titanic," he said proudly. "I start tonight."

"That's good, Papa," I murmured. "But... what's so great about that?"

"Josephine!" Mama snapped. "You've been very rude tonight."

I lowered my head. "I'm sorry..."

Papa chuckled gently. "Well, Josephine," he said, crouching a bit to meet my eye. "The good news is that because I'm now working on the ship, the captain has moved our family from third class... to second class."

Anneliese and I gasped in unison.

"Really?!"

We both leapt up and cheered.

"That's truly wonderful, dear!" Mama said, clasping her hands. "What kind of work will you be doing?"

"I'll be in the boiler room, shoveling coal," Papa said with a proud smile.

"Isn't that a dirty job?" I asked.

"Yes," Papa laughed. "But remember—we're going to second class."

~o~O~o~

As we prepared to leave third class, Mama stepped over to say goodbye to Mrs. Sandström, who smiled warmly and hugged her goodbye.

"I'm very pleased for you," she said, genuinely happy. "Second class will be more comfortable for the little ones."

Mama thanked her, and I noticed how calm Mrs. Sandström remained. She truly didn't seem to mind staying in third class, even with strangers in her cabin. "They're Swedish as well," she had said with a shrug. "It feels like home."

I wondered what it would feel like to belong so easily, even in a place so far from where you came from.

We made the long walk from G Deck up to E Deck, climbing stair after stair with our bags in hand. Each flight felt heavier than the last—my legs ached, and my bag kept bumping against my knee—but I didn't dare complain. Something about the air felt different the higher we climbed. Less damp. Less stale. Brighter.

The wood paneling on the walls became smoother. The lights were steadier. The people we passed looked a little more rested, a little more polished, though many still wore simple clothes like ours. There were children too, though they looked quieter somehow—like they had been told to behave differently in this part of the ship.

When we reached Cabin 51 on Deck E, Papa slid the key into the lock and pushed the door open.

My eyes widened.

The room was still small—nothing like the grand cabins I'd imagined for first class—but it was bright and clean, with white painted walls and crisp linen sheets. There were two beds instead of bunks, a small writing desk by the porthole, and even a washstand with fresh towels folded neatly on the side.

I ran straight to the bed and flopped down face-first.

"This is the life," I thought dreamily.

It felt like sleeping on a cloud after the narrow, stuffy hallway of G Deck.

Anneliese giggled and jumped onto the other bed, making the springs creak. We didn't even bother to unpack. We were too tired. Too warm. Too content.

It didn't take long for sleep to find us—there in a foreign country, on a ship the size of a city, rocking gently on the sea.

Somewhere behind us, Cherbourg had disappeared. Somewhere ahead, America waited.

And in between, for just a little while... we were safe.

Date: Thursday, the Eleventh Day of April, 1912
Place: Titanic – Second-Class Dining Saloon
Time: Five Minute Past Eight in The Morning

When we woke up the next day, we all felt refreshed and ready for the day—especially for breakfast. As we headed to the dining room, Papa was just coming back from his overnight shift in the boiler room. He looked filthy and definitely needed a bath. You could say he almost looked like a... well, Papa had so much coal dust on him, his face and arms were completely black. It made me laugh.

"You children go ahead and eat breakfast while I get washed up," Papa told us as he walked toward the washroom. "I'll be out later."

As he passed a well-dressed lady heading into the dining room—someone who looked like she belonged in first class with all those fancy clothes—she glanced at Papa with a look of disgust and walked away, muttering to herself.

"What's wrong with her?" I asked Anneliese.

"Beats me," she answered.

We walked into the dining room. Many people were already there, sitting at long tables. It looked almost like a restaurant, with servers walking around bringing out plates. It wasn't too fancy, but it was nice—and perfectly fine for us.

As we sat down, a waiter came over and handed us a menu.

"What would you young ladies like for breakfast?" he asked.

Being called a lady made something flutter happily in my chest. It felt... proper. Like maybe I really belonged here.

I looked down at the menu. "Oh! You have soda scones?" I said with a smile.

"I'm terribly sorry, miss," he replied. "We've just run out."

"Oh dear..." I pouted. "Well, I suppose I'll have the buckwheat cakes instead."

"A fine choice, miss," he said, jotting it down on his notepad. "And would you like some ham and eggs with that?"

"Just eggs, please. No ham—I'm Jewish," I said plainly. "And can I also have a bowl of oatmeal with fruit?"

"May I," Mama corrected gently.

I looked at her, then back at the waiter. "May I have a bowl of rolled oats and fruit, please?"

"Certainly, miss," he said with a smile, then turned to Anneliese. "And what would you like, dear?"

"I'll have the same as my sister," she replied softly.

Mama looked up from her own menu. "I'll have the fish, a bowl of hominy, and a cup of tea, please."

Mama doesn't eat much. She says she likes to keep her figure.
(Whatever that means.)

"I'll have tea as well," I added.

"Me too," Anneliese said, barely above a whisper.

"I'll bring those right out for you," the waiter said before walking off.

I glanced around the room. Other tables were already being served their breakfast. I supposed they must've arrived before us.

Papa came into the saloon just as our food arrived. He placed his order—grilled ox kidneys (which sounded dreadful), some au gratin potatoes, fish, and a cup of coffee. He must have been terribly hungry after working all night.

By the time we'd finished eating, the staff had already begun clearing the tables and preparing the room for lunch.

That's when we heard the ship's horn echo through the dining hall.

Date: Wednesday, the Eleventh Day of April, 1912
Place: Titanic – Queenstown Harbor – Queenstown, Ireland
Time: Thirty-four Minutes Past Eleven in the Morning

The horn we heard meant we had reached our final stop before heading out to sea. I asked one of the passengers nearby where we were, and he said the place was called Queenstown, Ireland.

I didn't know where Ireland was. I imagined it must be full of green hills and sheep, but I wasn't sure. I started skipping off toward the deck to get a better look at the harbor.

"Hey, kid!" a man's voice called out.

I turned to look. He was standing a little ways off, near the railing.

"Shouldn't you be down in third class?" he shouted.

"No!" I yelled back. "I'm in second."

He sneered. "You don't look like a second-class passenger. Go back down where you belong."

His words hit me like cold water. My eyes filled with tears, and I turned and ran, not stopping until I reached our cabin.

"Mama!" I cried as I burst into the room. "This mean man told me to go back to third class!"

Mama looked up from her sewing, alarmed. She stood and pulled me into a hug.

"He said I didn't look like I belonged in second class," I sobbed.

"The nerve of that man," Mama said sharply. "You are a second-class passenger, Josephine, and don't let anyone make you feel otherwise."

She pulled me close, gently patting my back. Then she reached for her hairbrush, sat me down, and began to brush my hair with careful strokes. From her trunk, she pulled out a pale ribbon and tied it neatly into my hair.

I wasn't sure if she was doing it to make me look more like I belonged in second class, or just to make me feel better. But either way, I liked it. It felt soft and pretty.

Anneliese came over, holding out her brush. "Can you do mine, too?"

Mama smiled and nodded.

When she finished, she turned to me and said, "Now Josie, if anyone gives you trouble again—anyone—go straight to a crew member, do you understand?"

I nodded.

"If you want," Anneliese offered, "I can go out with you."

I gave her a quiet smile and nodded again.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," Mama said with a laugh. "And be back before dinner."

Anneliese and I stepped back out onto the deck, the sea breeze tugging at our sleeves. We stood together near the railing, watching the small tender boats making their way from shore to ship, each one bringing new passengers aboard Titanic.

Date: Wednesday, the Eleventh Day of April, 1912
Place: Titanic – Queenstown Harbor – Queenstown, Ireland
Time: Fifteen Minutes Past One in the Afternoon

After about ten minutes of staring out at the water, Anneliese and I decided to explore the ship. We couldn't go everywhere, of course—there were areas marked off for first-class passengers only—but we still had fun seeing what we could.

Toward the stern of the ship, we spotted two children about our age. A boy and a girl. They looked cheerful, laughing together as they played some sort of game.

We walked over to them.

"Hi," I said as we got closer.

"Hello!" the girl replied with a smile. "I'm glad there are more children aboard. My name's Marjorie."

"I'm Josephine, and this is my twin sister, Anneliese."

"Hi," Anneliese said softly, her voice a little shy.

"What game are you playing?" I asked, watching the boy toss a rope ring across the deck.

"Quoits," he said as the ring landed neatly on a painted circle with a number on it.

"Never heard of it," I said, tilting my head.

"Never heard of it?" he laughed. "Where in the world are you from?"

"Großmöllen," I answered.

"Where's that?" Marjorie asked.

"Großmöllen is in the German Empire," I said with a small frown. "But we don't live there anymore. We're moving to America. We had to leave our home."

"Oh... I'm sorry," Marjorie said gently. "My mum and dad and I are moving to Idaho, from England. We're going to live near family."

"We haven't decided where we'll settle," I told her. "Probably—"

Just then, the ship's horn blared loudly across the harbor, and all four of us jumped. A few seconds later, we felt it: the subtle shift beneath our feet as the Titanic began to move.

"I suppose we're off," the boy said. "I'd better head back inside. Dinner's starting."

He turned to run.

"Wait!" I called after him. "What's your name?"

"Marshall... Marshall Drew!" he shouted over his shoulder. And then he was gone.

"I'd better get going too," Marjorie said. "I don't want Mum and Dad waiting."

She gave us a little wave and hurried off.

Anneliese and I walked back toward our cabin. Mama was waiting by the door when we arrived.

"You two have a good time?" she asked as we stepped inside.

"Yes," Anneliese said. "We met some children."

"That's lovely," Mama smiled. "Now come along. Let's get ready for dinner."