Belfast, the city where a huge steel structure was assembled. As beautiful and spacious as a palace. Yet it was meant to float on the ocean.
A massive ship called the Titanic was built on the great slipways of Wolff and Harland . The most luxurious passenger ship ever built by man to sail the Atlantic. It happened way back in the dawn of the adventurous 20th century. When men frantically did things with slight deviations from the ordinary.
They invented this indescribable ocean liner, operated by the White Star Line. It really baffled every living soul that was alive at the time. When completed, it boldly stood on the overcrowded shores of the sea. Every soul that was in good shape moved there, at least on the shores of the ocean to ascertain the largest moving object ever made by man. What a wonderful sight to see.
Standing on the banks with his name written in three-foot letters on the gold hull. He was waiting for everyone who could pay the bill to be his passengers. He waited for the upper class, the rich and fortunate middle class to enter.
It was a party ... no carnival. Graham Farley was there to entertain. There were businesses; like a trade fair; many made a lot of purchases and sales.
Then the nine-hundred-member crew led by Captain Edward J. Smith was hard at work to sail the ship dubbed "unsinkable" to its supposed destination, New York.
Once inside, all those who were able to pay or play their way to enter, waved, smiled, cried to those overboard who were solemnly waving, shouting. The floating palace began to float off the shores of Southampton, moving away.
All living souls gaze in amazement. It had to sail for a certain number of days. The hundreds of passengers who thronged its magnificent cabins and salons; the smoking gentlemen who occupied its excellently designed smoking rooms. While his band was playing, people began to eat. Great smoked meals and classy drinks.
They were joyful. They knew one certainty: "The Titanic would never have sunk ".
Among the nine hundred crew members were; Cooks, engine room men, stewards and elevators. Many of them serve rich, famous and beautifully dressed men and women. What class of soul was not in the vessel? While sailing unsinkable on the sea. Merchants, tycoons, priests, students, teachers, waiters, peasants and their families. Astor, Guggenhein, Straus, Russians, Swedes, Greeks, many of whom were immigrants. There were people from all parts of the earth, I wonder if there were no Africans. Men and women walked and talked: they stood and watched, the children played as they made their way to New York.
Until the night of April 14, 1912. Far away in the ocean, he hit an iceberg. Her hull ached so badly that it hit her delicate parts, heart and bowel, that she screamed like so many thunderous locomotives going through a tunnel. The ship collapsed.
Captain Edward J. Smith and his officers struggled in vain to revive her. But she was dead and nothing. They could never resurrect the ship again.
Gradually, it began to bury itself in the depths of the frozen sea. Everyone noticed her diving but refused to believe what they saw. Screams soon broke out. Fear. Horror. Terror;
Everyone is running, fighting for their life. The crew members sacrificed their souls as martyrs to save as many lives. They saved as many men, women and children as they could by ignoring themselves.
Until most of the steel was swallowed in the early hours of April 15, 1912.
Its sister ship, the Carpethia, has come down to bring home the few muffled survivors. They returned with nothing, only bad news, to bury relatives in empty graves.
And so the unsinkable sank down, down into the darkness of the icy ocean floor, and the reality of that night remained uncertain until recently.
