Foxworth Academy (14 page)

After racking his brain all night, he finally remembered his granddad’s words, “It’s easier to turn if you have enough speed.”  Brett went crabbing on his granddad’s boat more times than he could remember.  The process was not an exact science, but they did have their procedure down pat.  They would drop about twenty crab traps in the water over a period of a couple hundred yards, turn around, and then pick them up.  The pattern had a zig-zag effect, and it wasn’t easy to maneuver from one trap to the next.

When Brett’s dad drove the boat, he always had a hard time getting from one trap to the next because he was moving so slow and it was hard to turn the wheel in time.  To solve this, his granddad gave him the advice to speed the boat up, and sure enough, he could make the sharp turn.  The faster they went, the quicker they could turn.

Brett hoped this idea would save fifteen hundred lives.

“W
hy the hell aren’t we slowing down?!” Captain Smith demanded as he came out of the bridge and looked at the enormous iceberg ahead. 

“They’re ignoring us, sir!” shouted an officer.  “Should I go down there?”

“You’ll never make it in time.  Bloody hell!”

Ally and Ella stared ahead at the impending disaster.  The ship was turning, but would it be enough?  The captain came down the steps and stood at the very front of the boat, like he was challenging the iceberg to a duel.  He backed away slowly as it neared the boat.

Ally squinted her eyes and scrunched her shoulders, preparing for impact.  They both moved away from the railing as the iceberg neared.  It was so close that you could make out tiny cracks and formations on the aqua-colored chunk of ice.  Yet, the ship kept turning. 

“By God, I think we’re going to make it!” a crewman said.

The iceberg got so close, they could almost reach out and touch it.  It was eerily quiet as everyone listened for impact.  But there was no impact.  There was no grinding sound.  There was no hull being ripped apart.  There were no chunks of ice barreling into anyone’s room.  The water-tight doors did not close. 

Everyone survived.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

B
rett continued to stare at his watch.  At least a minute had passed and he heard no impact.  He heard no more panic screams from the receiver. 
Hopefully it missed
, he thought.  Hopefully his plan worked.  He picked up the receiver and pretended to listen in on a conversation.  He nodded his head a few times and replied that he understood.

The officer came over and asked what was going on.

“False alarm,” Brett said.  “Telegraph guy got it wrong.  There’s no SOS.”

“Well that’s good news, eh?”  He looked up at Brett and noticed he did not have a crew cap on.  “Where’s your cap, son?” 

Brett started to back away toward the door.

“Who are you again?  Swanson?” the man asked.

Brett quickly unlocked the door as the man picked up the radio. 

“What in bloody hell is going on?”

He shut it behind him and started running.  He exited the hallway, made for the stairs and found the deck.  He only got halfway to the bridge when he saw Ally running toward him.

“You did it!” she shouted.  “It missed!”  She leapt into his arms, and they hugged for what seemed like hours, even though it was mere seconds.  It felt good.  Too good.  He didn’t care that the class was watching this.  He had no cares in the world.  That is, until he thought of Krista.  He stepped back, releasing her.

“How did you know to speed up instead of slow down?”

Brett explained the crabbing story to Ally as they walked back towards the stern.  Ella and an angry, wet Lance were there waiting for them.  They looked at the ship’s wake behind them, searching for the iceberg, but it was long gone.

“There!” a man’s voice said.  “That’s him!”  He pointed in Brett’s direction as the captain and three of his officers started toward him.

The four of them wasted no time and sprinted for the other side of the boat.  As they got out of view from the officers, they disappeared from 1912. 

T
he first set of the teenagers awoke, finding themselves back in their capsules.  Ally and Brett removed their hats.

“Great job,” she said, kissing him on the cheek.  “Now let’s get out of these ridiculous clothes.  Forever!”

They changed, made it up the stairwell, and back into class.  They were greeted by a standing ovation from their peers who were hooting and hollering their names.  Brett and Ally took a bow and returned to their seats.  A few minutes later, Lance and Ella returned to a smattering of applause with quite a few boos thrown in.

“Now, now, class,” Mr. Martin said.  “Be nice.”  He turned to Brett and said, “Outstanding work, Mr. Logan, outstanding!  There are a handful of theories as to what could have saved the ship and you certainly picked one of them.  So the Titanic was traveling at twenty-one knots when it saw the iceberg.  Reports say that there were only thirty-seven seconds from the sight of the iceberg until impact.”

“That’s all?” someone asked.

“That’s it.  They had thirty-seven seconds to make a decision that would change history and doom over fifteen hundred souls to the bottom of the Atlantic.”

“How far away was the iceberg when they first saw it?” another asked.

“It is reported that it was approximately five hundred yards away.  There’s another way the Titanic could have been saved.  They should have driven right into it,” Mr. Martin exclaimed.

“What?” Brett said aloud.  “How would that save the Titanic?”

“The Titanic was built to survive such a collision.  It was designed to stay afloat with the first four compartments open.  They would have crushed the bow of the ship, but at most one or two compartments would have flooded, not five, as was the case here.”

“Who’s truly to blame for the sinking of the Titanic?” Ally asked.

“That’s not for me to say,” Mr. Martin said.  “You could first blame the ship builders for not putting enough lifeboats on board.  Or go even further and blame the government that allowed ship builders to do so.  Remember, that was common practice back then.  You could blame Captain Smith for not heeding the warnings the other ships sent out about icebergs in the area.  He could have cut back on the speed or even drifted until morning.  Life boats were sent away half full.  Blame the Captain and the crew for that.  Some say the leaks could have been repaired.  This would have slowed the rush of water and although the ship would’ve still sunk, it would have allowed for boats to come to their rescue.”

The class was silent, everyone thinking about the magnitude of what had just happened.  Brett and Ally had saved the Titanic. 

“Just imagine, Mr. Logan,” Mr. Martin said softly, “if you really did indeed save the Titanic.”

The bell indicating class was over interrupted the quiet calm that was now hovering in the classroom.  The students began gathering their things as Mr. Martin said loudly, “I expect a one thousand word essay by Monday on the sinking of the Titanic.”  A soft groan could be heard throughout.  “Brett, you and Ally are exempt from this assignment, of course.  I’m very proud of you two.”

Brett nodded his head at the teacher and smiled at Ally.  They grabbed their books and headed out the door. 

“Brett, that was so much fun!” Ally said.

“I know, I can’t believe it’s over,” he replied.  “Totally stinks.  I wish every class was like this.”

“Me, too.  Maybe we’ll get picked again next semester.”

“Doubtful, but there’s a chance I guess.”

They continued to walk to the cafeteria when Ally asked, “What are you doing this weekend?”

Oh my God
, Brett thought.  “Umm, not sure.  You?”

“I think my friends and I are going to the fair on Friday night.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

B
rett had been brushing his teeth for what seemed like an eternity as he thought about the night ahead of him.  He had showered for at least twenty minutes and at one point even his sister pounded on the door and asked if he was all right.  Dressed in jeans and a maroon Adidas t-shirt, he stared into the bathroom mirror as the bristles horizontally moved across his teeth.

“Brett, you okay?” he father asked from just outside the door.

Brett spit into the sink and replied a muffled, “Yeah.”

“Do you need a ride to the fair?”

“No, we’re walking.”

He didn’t tell his parents he was going on an actual date.  He just told them that he was going to the fair with friends, which was only a half-lie. 

He took one last look in the mirror, moved one strand of hair, then shut the light off and went downstairs.

Grabbing his house key and his phone, he shouted to his parents that he was leaving.  They replied with a stern reminder of his ten o’clock curfew.  Brett walked out of the house and to the end of the street where Krista was waiting.  Brett had to admit, even with his conflicting feelings; she looked great in her khaki capris, and black hoodie with the words
Love Pink
, bordering each side of the zipper. 

It was a crisp, cool evening as the two of them smiled and greeted each other.  Brett thought about grabbing her hand as they walked, but decided against it.  The fair was about a half mile away at their church so the walk there was quick.  Krista did most of the talking, gossiping about this girl or that guy as they went.  Brett just listened attentively, throwing in a “no way” every now and then.

Numerous games and tables were set up when they arrived.  There were no amusement rides, but plenty of things to do for kids of all ages.  Ring toss games, basketball games, speed pitch, and even a dunk tank that was occupied by the church pastor. 

“What do you wanna do first?” Brett asked.

“The line is too long for the dunk tank, but I definitely want to do that.”

“Let’s get some cotton candy,” he said.

As they rounded one of the corners of a tent, Brett almost walked right into Ally.

“Oh, hey,” he stammered, shocked at her appearance.

Ally looked at him, then at Krista, clearly disappointed.  “Hey,” she said.

Brett noticed the disgusted look on Krista’s face.  Time seemed to stand still.  Brett wanted to climb under a rock and then have someone pound it with a sledgehammer.  He had never felt more awkward in his life.  He’d dreaded this moment all day, hoping and praying they would not run into Ally.  Ally wasn’t alone either as her companion rounded the corner. 

Lance smiled.  “Hey butt-face.”

Now Brett’s face registered disappointment, something both Krista and Ally noticed.  Brett ignored Lance’s greeting and the four of them just stood there, no one knowing what to say next.

“Nice seeing you guys,” Krista said, trying to get Brett away from Ally as quickly as possible.

“You guys a couple or somethin’?” Lance asked.

They both ignored the comment and Krista started walking, pulling on the side of Brett’s sweatshirt as she went.  Neither Brett nor Ally spoke, but they locked eyes for a brief moment, each one disappointed in the other. 

“Hey, Logan,” Lance said.

Brett and Krista turned back towards them, Brett spreading his hands in a “what” gesture.

“You won for now, I guess,” Lance said.  “You saved the Titanic.”

Brett shrugged.  All four of them stood there for a moment, each contemplating what was going to be the next move.

“You punked out on baseball though and gave yourself a concussion.  Maybe we’re even, maybe we’re not.  But I got an idea.”  He smiled.  “Maybe we can settle it another way,” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys.  A set of keys that looked eerily similar to the ones that Mr. Martin owned.  Ally, Brett and Krista looked at the keys in astonishment. 
Did he really steal the teacher’s keys?

“Where do you wanna go next?”

This is the first book in a series about Foxworth Academy.  The next installment is due out in May, 2013.  If you’d like to be on the notification list, please send an email to
[email protected]
.

O
nce again, this book was very enjoyable to research and write.  I’ve visited the Titanic Museum tour twice at the Franklin Institute in Philadelphia and it is certainly worthwhile. 

A big thanks goes out to Steve, Tom, my mother-in-law, Dolly, and authors Cindy Callaghan and Cheryl Bradshaw, for reading and editing this book before publication.  I can’t forget my nephew Jake, an author himself, for giving me some insight into life as a freshman.  Without their honest feedback and editing skills, I would have produced a much different and inferior final product.  Thanks to Paul of Create Imaginations for a great cover. 

Most importantly, I’ve influenced my children to not only read but to write.  As of this publication, my five-year-old daughter has just written her first Care Bears book and my seven-year-old son has written a reptile book.  Always believe in your dreams.  I have, and thanks to my wonderful wife Katie, I can spend a little time entertaining my readers.

T
his is Chris Blewitt’s fourth publication and the first in a series of eight about
Foxworth Academy
.  His first,
Deep Rough – A Thriller in Augusta
, is a thriller set in golf’s grand stage, The Masters. 
Deep Rough
has climbed the charts and has been the # 1 Sports, # 1 Golf, and # 1 Sports Gambling book on The Kindle.

Chris has also written the short story,
The Chemist – Based on a True Story
.  Set in the 1920’s, an innocent man is forced into the dangerous world of bootlegging during Prohibition.

History buff?  Then you’d enjoy
The Lost Journal
, a tale about a secret document hidden since the days of George Washington.

Look for more from Chris in the coming months and learn more at www.chrisblewitt.com.  Chris is always eager to hear from his fans, so feel free to drop him a line at:
[email protected]