100 years…
April 14th, 2012It’s 11.22pm in Sydney. I’m about to hit the sack. I’ve been waiting for this day, on and off, since 1998. Well, not so much waiting as thinking about it. I spent almost 10 years planning and writing The Company of the Dead. A lot of that time was focused on April 14, 1912. A lot of that time thinking about all those people and their last moments on that cold, cold night. Something moved me then and something moves me now.
I’ll leave the rest to Darren Morgan; Historian, coward, time traveller…
“I’ve been fascinated by the Titanic for as long as I can remember. I could never get my head around it. All so important and all so senseless at the same time. It was our first modern fable. A cautionary tale that belonged to everyone. It was our century’s fall. Our departure from the Eden of the Industrial Age. Our casting into the wilderness. Boys who’d read about it, seizing newspapers from street vendors, lay buried in mud two years later on the fields of France.
“In 1991 I interviewed some of the Titanic’s survivors and members of their families. There was this one woman; she hadn’t sailed, but her father and uncle were lost that night. She told me that a few days after the disaster, they’d been seated around the table for breakfast. Her mother had held a newspaper in front of her and said, ‘Your father won’t be coming home, dears.’
“The survivor list hadn’t been printed yet, so the girl had asked, ‘How do you know, mother?’” Morgan’s mouth was dry. He wet his lips with the bourbon, and continued, hoarsely, “Her mother told her, ‘This morning’s paper says that some children were lost. Your father would never leave a child behind, no matter what happened.’”
Kennedy gazed at him with shining eyes.
Morgan said, “It’s strange. Here we are with complete knowledge of what will happen in two days time, and we’re the ones at a disadvantage.”
“How do you figure that?”
“Everyone else aboard will act in accordance with their own sense of pride, or honour, of hope, desire, fear, despair… Some will be lucky, some will be practical. Some will be downright evil. Most will suffer briefly but terribly.” Morgan shrugged. “We’re trapped by legend. We’ve entered mythology and it’s is a strange place. It bears only the smallest resemblance to actual events.”
