𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐄 - 𝐅. 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐒

๑༄ ‧₊˚𝙲𝙷𝙰𝙿𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝟸

Southampton Docks. April 10, 1912

FIVE

𝕬 view of Titanic from several blocks away, towering above the terminal buildings like the skyline of a city. The steamer's whistle echoes across Southampton. 

There was a flash of blue light and slight pop could be heard. Number Five landed in a small alleyway. Wearing clothes that consists of a simple blue button up with the usual corduroy trousers and boots, occasionally supplemented by an unstructured jacket and waistcoat to coordinate the time, place and situation that he was going to be put in. 

When Number Five saw a pub in the distance, he grabbed his briefcase and walked out into the alleyway, where there were a dozen buzzing individuals. He approaches the pub and walks inside to observe the smokey inside of a room. It is busy with a variety of individuals, including dockworkers and ship crew.

He sat next to the people locked in a tense card game: a couple of drifters, a blond handsome young American man and his partner, an Italian, against a pair of Swedes. Settling on a table, he took out the folder and book from his bag. Specifically, his sister's book, which consists of equations and numbers, and the file of his mission about titanic.

Number Five was so engrossed in his own world that he didn't hear the Titanic's final warning whistle. "We go to America!" shouted the Italian man. "I'm going home!" added another man gleefully. 

"No mate!" the barkeep shouted, pointing towards a clock behind him. "Titanic go to America in five minutes!"  

Number five was heard in the background and suddenly pulled out of his world, quickly checking his watch. "Shit!" He and the two other men said it in unison. 

With no time to lose, Number Five shoved his belongings into his bag and ran out of the pub. The other two men not far behind, Bags over their shoulders and scrambled out of the pub, tearing down the streets and into the Southampton port as fast as their legs could take them, whooping and celebrating the whole time. Shouts followed them as they jostled slow-moving onlookers. They dodged piles of luggage, and weaved through the crowd of people. 

Number Five finally burst out onto the pier and came to a dead stop, staring at the cast wall of the Titanic's hull, towering seven stories above the wharf and over an eighth of a mile long. The Titanic was truly monstrous.

He sprinted toward the third class gangway aft, at E deck and reached the bottom of the ramp just as Sixth Officer Moody detached it at the top. The ramp started to swing down from the gangway doors. 

"Shit!" Number Five cursed "Wait! Hey stop, stop!" 

"Wait here sir" The crewmate stated. 

"Wait!! We're passengers! " Another man panted as he climbed up the ramp, waving the tickets. Number Five turns to see the two men that were gambling earlier at the pub. 

"Have you been through the inspection queue?" The crewmate questioned, barring them from further entry. 

"Of course! Anyway, we don't have lice, we're Americans," The blond man lied cheerfully, glancing at his partner and Number Five. "The three of us." 

The crewmate was testy, but nonetheless let them on. "Right, come aboard." 

Number Five enters the ship with slight awe, pulling his ticket to see what cabin number he was assigned. 

"We're the luckiest sons of bitches in the world. You know that?" cackled the blond man to his partner once they were inside. 

Hearing this, Number Five felt a slight sympathy knowing what event was going to happen in a few days. 

Titanic gathered speed, and pulled away from the Southampton harbor toward the English Channel, slicing through the water like a giant knife, its enormous bronze propeller blades chopping through the water, hurling the steamer forward, churning up a vortex of foam that trailed behind the juggernaut ship like a meteor tail. 

Black smoke spewed from its four tower-like smoke stacks, fed by the tons of coal shoveled into the roaring furnaces by the firemen and stokers deep in the boiler room, powering the enormous, four-story tall twin reciprocating engines that moved the floating city forward to her maiden voyage.

Number Five walked down the narrow corridor of the Third Class compartments with doors lining both sides, passing through a scene of total confusion as the Third Class passengers argued over luggage in several languages, or wandered through the labyrinth of corridors. They passed emigrants studying the signs over the doors and looking up the words in phrase books. 

Soon enough, he found his berth: a modest cubicle, painted enamel white, with four bunks, and exposed pipes on the low overhead ceiling. 

Number Five tossed his bag onto one of the open bunks. He turned around when he heard another pair of footsteps and saw the two other young men recently. 

"Ciao amico!" "Hello mate!" The Italian and American men greeted him in unison, excitedly jumping on the top of the bunk bed on their left.

Number Five nodded back in return, leaning on the bunk bed post. "Thanks, by the way, for what you did earlier." He directed to the blond American man.  

 "Ehh, don't mention it mate. I'm Jack by the way, Jack Dawson. "He held out his hand to shake." 

He took his hand to shake. "Five Hargreeves" 

"Like the number?" The Italian man piped in. "Oh how rude. I didn't even introduce myself, Fabrizio De Rossi amico." he introduced, his Italian accent being noticeable. 

"Yeah like the number" Number Five said rolling his eyes. 

"Ignored him" Jack snickered, watching in amusement.