Foxworth Academy (9 page)

Some students nodded their heads; others had a look of bewilderment.

“I can’t change history,” Mr. Martin said.

“But,” Beckam protested.

“But, I did something else.  Mr. Martin grabbed a piece of chalk and drew lines on the blackboard.  “Anyone ever hear of a parallel universe?”

No one answered.

“Without ruining Ms. Shelly Gorum’s physics class, I’ll be brief.  There’s a theory about the possibility of multiverses.  A multiverse is a set of possible multi
universes
, including ours, that comprise of everything in space, time, matter and energy as we know it.  Inside of these multiverses, one may find a parallel universe, such as the one Brett and Ally traveled to.  So in essence, we will not be changing
our
history, but may in fact change it in another universe.”

The kids were more confused than ever and Mr. Martin noticed.  “Listen folks, it’s quite simple.  Nothing will ever happen to our universe by what we change in the past.  The universe Brett and Ally travel to will change, but only if they succeed in their mission, of course.  Now, let’s move on from this subject.  Now, what else about the Titanic?”

Two hands shot up, including Beckam’s, again.

“I assume this is not about time travel and changing history, Mr. Beckam?”

His hand went down and the teacher called on a girl in the front.

“I heard somewhere about the Unsinkable Molly Brown,” she said.

“Very good, Michelle.  Although she is in the movie too.  Molly Brown was in lifeboat number six and urged the crewmen in charge of that boat to go back and pick up more survivors, going so far as to pick up an oar herself.  It’s unclear whether or not this worked because most people who went in the water died of hypothermia within minutes.  And speaking of temperatures—who can tell me what the temperature was that night?

“Forty,” came a reply from the class.

“Nope.”

“Thirty-six.”

“No.”

“Thirty-two, freezing,” said a boy in the back.

Mr. Martin grabbed his notebook and put on his glasses.  “The captain of the Californian, the ship closest to the Titanic at the time of the tragedy, submitted his log book of air and water temperature.  According to him, at 4am, the temperature of the air and the water were the same: twenty-nine degrees.”

A few students opened their mouths in astonishment.  “That’s below freezing, how come the water wasn’t frozen?” someone asked.

“Well, there are a couple of reasons.  First, the water was only that temperature for a few hours.  Once the sun rises, the water warms up as well.  Second, the currents and tides provide a lot of movement in the ocean, making it harder for it to freeze.  And third, the ocean is salt water, not freshwater, making it even more difficult to freeze.  It would take below freezing temperatures for a long time in order to make, well, an iceberg.”  Mr. Martin glanced at the clock on the wall and said, “Geez, look at the time.  Brett, Ally, let’s get you back in there.”

Brett and Ally anxiously got out of their seats and followed Mr. Martin to the utility closet and down the stairs.  They changed into their 1912 clothes and lay down on the reclining chairs.

“Sorry, but this is going to be a quick trip today.  Do what you can in the short amount of time you have.  Good luck.”

The shields slid over them and the familiar voice boomed overhead reminding them of the rules and finally, “Your mission: Save.”

T
hey awoke lying down again, as they had on the first day.  Brett sat straight up and bumped his head, hard.

“Awwooo!” he said, lying back down.

“What happened?” Ally called out. 

To the left, there was a wall, and to the right, an open space.  The ceiling was about a foot and a half above his head.  Ally’s face appeared right next to him.

“Hey,” he said.

She smiled at him.  “You’re in a bunk bed.”

He rubbed his forehead, carefully propping himself up on his elbows and said, “Wish Mr. Martin had told us that before.”  He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and jumped down to the floor.

The bunk beds were small, with wooden frames that were pushed against the wall.  The entire room was smaller than his bedroom.  The floor was simple off-white linoleum tile, and there was a couch on the opposite wall of the beds, a chest of drawers, and a small sink attached to the wall.

“So, we’re on the Titanic?” Brett asked, still rubbing his head.

“Guess so.”

“That just seems so incredible, doesn’t it?”

“It’s crazy,” she replied.  “Let’s go.  I wonder if we left the port yet.”

Ally opened the cabin door and entered a carpeted hallway with rooms on both sides.  It was very well lit and there were no windows or portholes.  They walked toward a stairwell, opened the door, and climbed the steps.  Two flights later they made it onto the deck of the great ship and took in the sights.

“We’re moving,” Brett said.  They were close to the back of the ship and could see the massive white wake cascading behind the ship that seemed to stretch as far as the eye could see.

“Where’s land?”

“Good question.  We could have been gone for hours.”

There were a lot of people moving about the ship, all dressed like Brett and Ally.  Some walked arm in arm and took in the magnificent view of the ocean.  They couldn’t see another boat in sight.  The ocean breeze swept over the water, cooling them, and making them glad to be dressed like they were.  The handrails along the deck were shiny and new and the wooden deck below their feet was freshly polished.  There wasn’t a speck of dirt to be seen.  Small lifeboats were tied up carefully next to the railing, awaiting departure when needed. 

Brett and Ally looked high into the air and saw four big smokestacks towering into the air; all but one was blowing black and charcoal gray billowy smoke.

“Why is that smokestack not blowing smoke?”

Ally shrugged and they moved down the length of the port side toward the front of the boat.

“I’d love to own a boat,” Brett said.

“Like this?” Ally replied.

“No, no, just any boat, really.  I love to fish. Being out on the water is awesome.  My grandfather used to have a boat and he would take us fishing or crabbing every time we visited him.  Do you know which side of the boat is which, port or starboard?”

Ally was caught off guard at the question and played like she didn’t care.  “Nope.”

“Left is port, right is starboard.  Easiest way I remembered that was that the word left had the same amount of letters as port.  How about the bow and the stern?”

“Brett, I don’t know,” she said, getting annoyed.  She continued to walk along the deck toward the front.

“The bow is the front of the boat, the stern is the back.  Don’t really have an easy way to remember that one.”

The length of the Titanic from back to front was eight hundred and eighty-three feet, almost the length of three football fields.  Needless to say, it took them a few minutes to reach the front of the boat.  But when they did, what a sight it was.  The sun was dipping low on the western horizon and it looked like the entire world was all right there in front of them.  The breeze was strong and cooled their faces.  Ally’s hair blew in the wind and she struggled to keep it out of her eyes.

“Wow,” he said.

“This is unbelievable.”  She looked at the top of Brett’s hat and smiled.  “Sorry you don’t get to experience this, classmates,” she said into the mini camera.  “I hope it looks as good on your TV as it does to me.”

“All right, back to reality.  We gotta figure out a way to save this ship.”

Ally thought of something and said, “We need to figure out how long we’ve been sailing.  There’s no land in any direction so we must have been out here pretty long.  Last night you said we have four days.  Let’s hope that’s still the case.”

He turned around and looked up at the great ship.  “That must be where they’re steering and powering the Titanic.  Let’s see if we can get a tour or something.”

“You think?” Ally asked.

“Worth a shot, come on.”

They walked the short distance, underneath the crow’s nest, to the nearest flight of stairs, and climbed until they could climb no further.  To the right was a door that was clearly marked “Crew Only,” and to the left was an indoor hallway with an arrow pointed on the side of the wall that said “Officer’s Quarters.”  Brett tried the door to the right but it was locked.

“Should we knock?” Ally asked.

Brett was already ahead of her, pounding on the door with his knuckles.  But there was no response.  He pounded again, this time louder.  Seconds later a man opened the door.  He wore a navy suit jacket with brass buttons and a navy hat.  He scrutinized the two of them, then asked, “Can I help you?” his accent thick and European.

Brett was caught off guard. “Yeah, I was wondering if we could get a tour.”

“Sorry, off limits,” he said, and turned, attempting to close the door on them.

Brett wedged his foot out and pleaded, “Please, my sister here, it’s her birthday.”

“Sorry, no.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Ally saw a few papers blowing in the wind on the deck.  She scrambled over and scooped them up.  An older man in a bushy white beard and dressed in full uniform jogged up to her with his hand outstretched.

“Thank you, my love,” he said.  “Can’t lose my new coordinates.”

She handed over the papers and said, “No problem.”  They both turned at the commotion that was occurring where Brett was standing.

Brett changed his tone of voice, “Come on, man.  It’ll just take five minutes.”

“Get your bloody foot away from this door or I will have it permanently—-.”

Brett heard footsteps behind him and turned to see an older man with white bushy hair and a matching beard and mustache.  The older man walked in front of Brett and stared at his officer.

“What’s going on here?” the man asked.

“Captain, I’m sorry, it’s just, these two kids wouldn’t leave me alone.  They were begging to see the bridge, and when I told them no, they wouldn’t let it be.”

The captain looked at Brett and Ally for a moment before saying, “Captain Edward Smith here.  Thanks to your young friend here,” he gestured at Ally, “we may just get to New York as promised.  Follow me.”  Brett and Ally looked at each other a moment before following the captain through the doors of the bridge.

T
he kids in Mr. Martin’s class were excited, dumbfounded, and some were even envious, but most of all, they absorbed every moment of the scene unfolding before them.  Mr. Martin was thrilled they were getting so much joy out of learning history.  If only he could share this with the entire world, kids would actually enjoy learning.  But if his secret got out, someone in the CIA or NSA would take it from him and that would be the end of time travel.

“So, what brings you on board the Titanic?” Captain Smith asked.

Brett and Ally looked at each other, confused.  “Ah, we were visiting our grandparents in England,” Brett said.

“Yeah?  What part?”

Brett could only think of one city and he said, “London.”

The captain led them forward without saying a word.  The bridge was a semi-circular area that had wheels, levers and dials everywhere.  They were brass, very polished, and very shiny.  At closer glance Brett could see numbers and east, west, north, and south printed in black on each wheel.  There was one large wheel in the middle that said slow, half, and full, which Brett assumed was for engine speed.

“This is the bridge, where all the excitement happens,” the captain said.

“Wow, cool,” Brett said.

The class could not believe their eyes.  They were looking at the controls of the Titanic.  They were staring at the captain of the greatest naval disaster in history.  They crept forward, hoping to catch something, hoping to see what Brett and Ally were seeing first-hand.

“You see this over here,” the captain said, pointing at some gauge on the panel.  “That’s our direction; we’re heading due west, southwest.”

“What’s this?” Brett pointed to something near the glass windows.

“That’s our estimated time of arrival.  We should be in New York City in three days.”

Brett looked at Ally and said, “Three days?”

“Yes, we should be there on April 17
^th
, possibly the 16
^th
if the currents and the wind treat us well.”

The class could see that Brett was confused.  If what the captain was saying was true, they skipped a few days in this latest journey.

“Sir,” Brett began.  “We fell asleep earlier.  Could you tell us the date and time right now?”

The captain laughed and said, “It’s sunset on April 13
^th
, my boy.”

Brett and Ally mindlessly continued the tour of the small bridge and were escorted out a short time later.  When the door closed behind them, they looked at each other.

“It’s the night before the Titanic hits the iceberg,” Ally said.  “We missed three days.”

Brett rubbed the hidden bruise on his forehead.  “We only have twenty-four hours to save the Titanic.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

B
rett and Ally didn’t travel back in time any more that week.  Professor Martin spent the next few classes discussing everything else that happened during that decade.  The class learned that the Boy Scouts and Girls Scouts of America were formed in 1910 and 1912 respectively.  The first ever Indianapolis 500 was run in 1911 with an average speed of seventy-four miles per hour.  The average speed in last year’s 500 was one hundred and sixty-seven miles per hour.  The Panama Canal opened in 1914 after taking more than thirty-four years to build and costing over 27,000 workers their lives.  The United States entered World War I in 1917, and perhaps biggest of them all, the 18
^th
and 19
^th
Amendments were ratified in 1919.

“Can anyone tell me about either amendment?” Mr. Martin asked.

The class was silent.

“Al Capone?” Martin hinted.

A few hands went up.  Mr. Martin called on Brett. 

“Bootlegging,” Brett said.