The Unsinkable Sinks

R.M.S Titanic

Northern Atlantic Ocean

2:07 a.m

The life of the infant liner was coming to an end. Her nameplate was now underwater. The railings that lined the ship on the bow were now just inches from being consumed by the murky Atlantic water.

The slant forward was now so noticeable, people were beginning to make their way for the stern. In hopes of staying out of the freezing water as long as possible, that was their goal.

Wallace and his three other bandmates were continuing to play, despite the exploding panic and fear surrounding them.

"Wallace, we should really go now!" Roger warned, glancing down towards the bow. Water was pouring over the forecastle deck, quickly submerging it underwater.

"No!" Wallace said. "Do you want to go down as gentlemen? Or go down as cowards?"

"The damn thing is sinking, Wallace! The boats are all gone as I know of, and in the next few minutes, we will all be in this freezing water."

"Do you not think I know that Mr. Bricoux?" Wallace said, filling with slight anger and irritation. Wallace never used his bandmates' last names up until now. But because they were scared and panicked, he had to step onto new turf in trying to control their feelings. And that included using their last names for some apparent reason.

Roger remained silent. He had nothing further to say to his bandmaster. He put his bow down. Wallace and Theodore both stopped playing their instruments as well.

"Will we see each other again, or are we?" Roger asked, breaking his brief silence.

Wallace lowered his violin and bow. The power, lighting the ship up, faded out. The electric was failing. Everyone knew Titanic wouldn't be afloat much longer.

The night sky continued to rage over everyone. The stars continue to sparkle and decorate the bland black abyss. If only there were a Moon, maybe the sinking would have never happened.

The lights that had been spotted earlier this evening, had now vanquished. Has any sign of rescue now left everyone's mind? Was rescue still going to come? Or would everyone perish with the grand, luxury liner: R.M.S Titanic?

"I will allow you three to go. But just remember this one thing: you will all be remembered as panicked band members of the Titanic that fled at the very last possible moment. I'll remain here at my post. Farewell everyone."

The power continued to fade in and out for the next couple of minutes. Roger, Theodore, and John all began walking away at around 2:10 a.m, bound for the stern.

As they were walking away, Wallace repositioned his violin and bow. He began playing one final elegant tune: Nearer My God to Thee.

Screaming, crying, and scared passengers were all fleeing to the stern of the dying vessel. The bow had now just slumped underwater, water rushing over the deck rapidly.

He began sliding his bow across the strings, playing the first couple of chords of the song by himself. Roger, Theodore, and John all glanced back with a look of guiltiness on their faces.

Were they really going to leave their friend and bandmaster, Wallace Hartley, to play the final tune by himself? Do they really want to go down with Titanic as cowards? Or as gentlemen?

And so, they walked back over to Wallace and surrounded him. And as the next chord began, they all joined in. Moaning and creaking could be heard as the rear end of the vessel slowly ascended into the air. It was becoming more difficult by the minute to stand. Deck chairs, and other loose necessities were quickly sliding down towards the bow and into the water.

Captain E.J Smith was gone, nowhere to be found. Where could he have gone wandering off to? His passengers and crew needed him to guide them to temporary safety—the stern.

Distant sounding rushing water could be heard in the near distance. Wallace, Roger, Theodore, and John all stopped playing briefly and gazed at the fast sinking bow. Water was now approaching the main deck.

"Wallace, now would be a good time—," Roger said.

"Keep playing!"

As they continued to play, they were being pushed out of the way by scouring passengers, and crew. The power almost died once more, but rebrightened itself.

The last of the lifeboats, the collapsible ones anyways, were being prepared in a hurried and rushed fashion. The oars of the boats were leaned up against the wall with two crew members at the top pushing the lifeboats down.

Because of the immense weight, the oars snapped like thin twigs, with the lifeboat tumbling over onto the deck upside down.

"First Officer Murdoch?" Wallace questioned as Murdoch stopped and looked at them blankly.

Wallace looked down at his right hand and saw a revolver. He gulped as he looked back up at William.

"You're relieved of your posts, gentlemen. You may leave now. Get to the Stern!"

Wallace put his violin down. He put his bow in his left hand and held out his right hand. Murdoch briefly glanced down at the gesture and accepted. The two shook hands for the final time.

"Please don't do what I think you will do. That's not the way—," Wallace warned in an angered and upset tone.

"You're a good man, Mister Hartley," First Officer Murdoch said as he rested his hand on Wallace's left shoulder. He smiled. "I tried, but failed. I not only failed everyone on this ship, but their families, friends, children, and all of my crew below me. It's my decision. And it's final."

First Officer Murdoch took his hand off of Wallace's shoulder. And before walking away, he looked at Wallace's green coat. The top button wasn't buttoned, and the collar of the jacket was not properly positioned.

William fixed the issues and patted Wallace on the shoulder. He grabbed his hat and nodded at Johnathan, Theodore, and Roger.

"Farewell gentlemen," Murdoch said as he glanced at Wallace one last time. "And farewell to you my good man. It was a pleasure knowing you."

Murdoch then walked away and disappeared among the crowd. Wallace pulled out his pocket watch for the final time. It was now 2:11 a.m.

Water was now flooding the poop deck and the Bridge. Wallace put his violin back up and continued playing the final tune. Nearer My God to Thee would be his last and most grandest tune ever played.

"Finish this with me gentlemen," Wallace said, "that is my last request."

A loud and sudden gunshot was heard aft the middle funnel, followed by the sounds of splashing water. Someone had clearly been shot, but who?

Wallace knew. Roger, John, and Theodore all shook like they were scared. Indeed they were scared, but only because the gunshot was unexpected.

"Go save yourselves, fellas," Wallace ordered.

As the three walked away slowly, carrying their instruments in their cases, what sounded like gunshots was actually the support cables holding the funnels up, snapping under intense stress. One by one, the cables snapped.

And after that, the first funnel had collapsed, taking with it many people's lives, including John Jacob Astor. He was among the dozen victims killed by the fallen funnel.

The other three band members suddenly joined Wallace, John, and Roger just outside the Grand Staircase entrance and just below the second funnel base.

John Fredrick Preston Clark, John Wesley Woodword, and Percy Cornelius Taylor were their names. Wallace Hartley, John Hume, and Roger Bricoux all turned around to look at their fellow bandmates.

"I assume you all are not getting on the last boat up there?" Percy questioned as he pointed at the flipped over collapsible lifeboat drifting away as the deck sank lower into the black water.

The boat had over a dozen scared passengers clinging on for their lives, while also not trying to overturn the boat again and fall back into the water. A terrible scene to witness. And to think that all of this could have been prevented.

"I'm afraid not, kind Sir," John Hume said, "but we are prepared to go down as gentlemen so to say."

"As are we," Percy Taylor replied.

"Good," Wallace said, "let's take a moment to say our goodbyes."