<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1161442080150628406</id><updated>2011-07-28T04:23:20.907-07:00</updated><category term='Britannic'/><category term='Captain abandons ship.'/><category term='Andrea Doria'/><category term='terror'/><category term='Empress of Ireland'/><category term='Third Class'/><category term='Christmas'/><category term='Titanic'/><category term='World War 2'/><category term='Farmers'/><category term='Oceanos'/><category term='sinking'/><category term='favorite maritime adventure. share your story'/><category term='tragedy'/><category term='Omaha Beach'/><category term='thomas andrews'/><category term='German'/><category term='ship'/><category term='European Immigrants'/><category term='Normandy Invasion.'/><category term='Doomed Ship'/><category term='White Star Line'/><category term='World War 1'/><category term='historical fiction Titanic'/><category term='fiction'/><category term='lightoller'/><title type='text'>Lost Ships</title><subtitle type='html'>Exciting stories of famous passenger liners and their survivors.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://greatshipdisasters.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161442080150628406/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://greatshipdisasters.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>American Home</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-12yffMLyJW4/TZIeLsgguTI/AAAAAAAAAnU/EofUr0y6Jgg/s220/897554324_AB7o2-XL.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>13</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1161442080150628406.post-2833957736732953851</id><published>2010-07-06T20:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-06T20:16:49.004-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Away for a While....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4tBvMOVALTU/TDPxlNzCVxI/AAAAAAAAAhs/Cz56tRzP1UY/s1600/big3%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4tBvMOVALTU/TDPxlNzCVxI/AAAAAAAAAhs/Cz56tRzP1UY/s200/big3%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5490997992355944210" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will be &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;away&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; for a couple of months while &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I am going to camps and taking a family vacation. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;I hope to see you all in the fall with &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;more great ship stories!!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;HAVE A TERRIFIC SUMMER.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1161442080150628406-2833957736732953851?l=greatshipdisasters.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://greatshipdisasters.blogspot.com/feeds/2833957736732953851/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1161442080150628406&amp;postID=2833957736732953851&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161442080150628406/posts/default/2833957736732953851'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161442080150628406/posts/default/2833957736732953851'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://greatshipdisasters.blogspot.com/2010/07/away-for-while.html' title='&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Away for a While....&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;'/><author><name>American Home</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-12yffMLyJW4/TZIeLsgguTI/AAAAAAAAAnU/EofUr0y6Jgg/s220/897554324_AB7o2-XL.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4tBvMOVALTU/TDPxlNzCVxI/AAAAAAAAAhs/Cz56tRzP1UY/s72-c/big3%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1161442080150628406.post-7531189658831806101</id><published>2010-05-17T14:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-18T18:37:41.324-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='European Immigrants'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='historical fiction Titanic'/><title type='text'>FREEDOM SHIP (part ll)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4tBvMOVALTU/S_GWE4CXkzI/AAAAAAAAAYU/72sGYWO-5sI/s1600/victorian_couple.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 138px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4tBvMOVALTU/S_GWE4CXkzI/AAAAAAAAAYU/72sGYWO-5sI/s200/victorian_couple.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472320032737825586" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Freedom Ship (Continued)&lt;br /&gt;It was now the Fourteenth of April. The voyage aboard the Titanic had gone very well. George had lost his insecurity of being on the great ship. Now he walked along the forward well deck. Flakes of ice that sprayed up from the ocean ran along the beautiful and brightly lit first class public section of the ship. He thought of everything he would do in their new life in America. &lt;br /&gt;Far below him on F-deck, Margret was washing her face and getting ready for bed along with most other third class passengers. However, in second and first class most of the men were still up in the public lounges and smoke rooms playing cards and sipping brandy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The hands on the clock that hung in the forward Grand staircase struck 11:40pm. In the crows nest, Fredrick Fleet saw a dark object that loomed out of the icy black water towards the ship. Frantically, he rang the bell three times then phoned the bridge to report “Ice berg, dead ahead!”&lt;br /&gt;First Officer Murdoch gave the command for hard to starboard and full speed astern. An estimated thirty seconds went by before the ship's bow slowly turned away from the coming calamity. But an underwater ledge hit Titanic’s steal hull with a glancing blow. George saw the berg slide past the ship and dump ice onto the well deck. The well dressed first class passengers come out onto the promenade deck to see the mountain of ice pass by. &lt;br /&gt;Margret was jarred from her slumber with the sound of metal twisting and glass splintering. A chunk of the ice berg had cracked the port whole in their cabin. She leaped out of the cabin and into the white corridor. Other curious faces peeked around their cabin doors. The hissing sound of furnaces being put out could faintly be heard. George, not thinking any thing of the coming catastrophe, walked casually to the staircase that led to third class. Suddenly, there was a peculiar noise. He looked down to see green sea water inching its way up the staircase. It was then that he realized the ship was slightly leaning forward. He began to walk very briskly down the hall. He spotted Margret looking down the corridor. At first he thought she was looking at him but her eyes were wide with fright and looking slightly past him. He turned and saw water poring over the stairs and onto F-deck. Margret ran back to the cabin and, to George’s surprise, Washing her face and putting on her best dress. She turned and said&lt;br /&gt;“If I am going to be on the upper decks, I don’t want to look my class.” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;George ignored this remark and pulled her out of the cabin. In the corridor, crew men were unlocking gates too the upper decks and shouting orders for everyone to get up and get there lifebelts on. The floors were now really beginning to list. Margret had to grope the railing to keep from falling down the stairs. Water was now flowing through the F-deck passenger corridor. The E-deck service hallway was littered with tray tables mainly from the second class dining room. George and Margret ran aimlessly through the maze of corridors until at last they found a flight of service stairs for the first class dining room. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Margret was awed by the lush carpets and fine china. The only thing that kept her from thinking that the ship was sinking was the water that climbed a beautiful oak staircase just out side the dining room. The lights in the reception room were turning a dim blue color as water seeped through the interior and soaked the wiring. Deafening moans echoed down the first class corridor that quickly slipping under water. At last they reached the staircase. George looked above and saw that it went up five or six decks. &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4tBvMOVALTU/S_GWL41lI3I/AAAAAAAAAYc/Z6LhxRI25l8/s1600/untitled3.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 141px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4tBvMOVALTU/S_GWL41lI3I/AAAAAAAAAYc/Z6LhxRI25l8/s200/untitled3.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472320153211708274" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the foyer of the Grand Staircase, chairs and luggage that had been left behind littered the floors. A few pieces of furniture had slid toward the staircase and now lay at its foot. Margret and George walked quickly to the starboard vestibule. They had expected to see a bunch of wealthy celebrities walking proudly around public rooms smoking cigars. Instead they found a mixture of people in pajamas and diner cloths running to the stern for safety. George could easily see why. The bow was completely submerged and water was pouring into the B-deck windows. George clutched Margret’s hand as they headed toward the stern. &lt;br /&gt;Inside the ship, the water had risen from D-deck all the way to B-deck in a matter of minutes. Bedding, luggage and furniture floated aimlessly about in the B-deck landing of the Grand Staircase. In the first class smoking room, the clock above the fire place chimed 1:30.&lt;br /&gt;On the boat deck, George walked Margret over to the last lifeboat. With some persuasion she finally got in. She held onto her seat as the boat creaked to the ocean surface. The water was now spilling onto the first class promenade deck.&lt;br /&gt;With no place of refuge, George held onto a lifeboat crane. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the first class lounge, water pored in through the open doors and broken windows. The chandelier in the center flickered out. The stern rose higher and higher. George watched a scene of terror unfold before him. Passengers jumped off the deck and into the freezing water. Most of them didn’t survive the fall. And the ones that did were sucked into the rapidly sinking ship. In the Café Pereisenne, china spilled out of the cabinet and the furniture piled up at one end. The first funnel fell into the ocean with a deafening roar. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Margret was tantalized as the stern reached a terrifying fifty degree angle. Suddenly, the ship went dark. George felt the deck under him begin to sag. A window suddenly shattered and then another then another. Hundreds of rivets’ began to pop out of place and fall into the see. Steel beams began to rise up out of the wooden deck. Titanic was breaking apart. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The screams got louder as the stern fell into the see. George lost his balance and slipped over the edge. Luckily he was towards the front so he didn’t fall very far. When he surfaced, the front end had pulled the stern completely vertical. Now the great ship sat motion less. Passengers lost there grip on the rails and fell to there death that was waiting almost two hundred feet below. &lt;br /&gt;After a few seconds, the Titanic slid gracefully beneath the waves. George began to swim the freezing cold water. It felt like a million pins sticking him all over. A man surfaced beside him and frantically asked “Where is she!” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;George looked at him and said “Where is who?” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“The Titanic!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“She’s gone sir, gone forever.” George said as he swam toward the lifeboat that held his beloved Margaret.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1161442080150628406-7531189658831806101?l=greatshipdisasters.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://greatshipdisasters.blogspot.com/feeds/7531189658831806101/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1161442080150628406&amp;postID=7531189658831806101&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161442080150628406/posts/default/7531189658831806101'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161442080150628406/posts/default/7531189658831806101'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://greatshipdisasters.blogspot.com/2010/05/freedom-ship-part-ll.html' title='FREEDOM SHIP (part ll)'/><author><name>American Home</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-12yffMLyJW4/TZIeLsgguTI/AAAAAAAAAnU/EofUr0y6Jgg/s220/897554324_AB7o2-XL.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4tBvMOVALTU/S_GWE4CXkzI/AAAAAAAAAYU/72sGYWO-5sI/s72-c/victorian_couple.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1161442080150628406.post-3355884152820772822</id><published>2010-04-06T12:28:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T19:29:55.372-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='German'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Third Class'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Farmers'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Titanic'/><title type='text'>The Freedom Ship</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://artfiles.art.com/5/p/LRG/9/994/7B7W000Z/painting-cunard-line-ship-passing-statue-of-liberty-new-york-city.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 278px;" src="http://artfiles.art.com/5/p/LRG/9/994/7B7W000Z/painting-cunard-line-ship-passing-statue-of-liberty-new-york-city.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;                          &lt;br /&gt;    The story you are about to read is a historical fiction tale. Although this tale has played out many times through the course of history, this particular tale was written to allow a glimpse into the lives of many Europeans during the Victorian period.&lt;br /&gt;      The night stars gave way to the warmth of the morning sun. The rains from the night before left a sweet perfume of incense in the air. A little yellow cottage sat alone in the midst of a large meadow blossoming with pink and purple wild flowers. This was the home of George and Margaret Yoder.&lt;br /&gt;   When the first beams of sunlight to burst through the window, Margaret was awake. Quickly she dressed and was soon standing over the pot-belly stove heating the small breakfast she had prepared. &lt;br /&gt;    George weakly put on his long sleeve checkered shirt. His body was bent from years of hard work trying to grow a living from his exhausted farm. The pants he struggled to pull on were made from wool. Margaret had labored hard to finish them in time for a Christmas gift. His boots however, he had worn since their wedding day. They showed many years of patches, mending, and wear. &lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zE6CCv___O8/SYd48-FQgFI/AAAAAAAAAaY/SfF9ZQFt1AE/s320/Work-Boots-8-x10.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 258px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zE6CCv___O8/SYd48-FQgFI/AAAAAAAAAaY/SfF9ZQFt1AE/s320/Work-Boots-8-x10.gif" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a    Margaret called George down for his breakfast. She was concerned they would not make it back from the village before night fall. The journey to the village was long and today of all days was an important day to visit the small German village.  They were seeking news of the war rumors which had been circulating for quite sometime and purchasing a few supplies for spring. Before sitting down to her breakfast, Margaret read the headlines from the front page of an old newspaper to George. &lt;br /&gt;   “Titanic set to sail on April 8th. The world’s wealthiest people have booked tickets for the maiden crossing of the Atlantic!”&lt;br /&gt;   “Look at this!” she said. “This ship is unsinkable and nearly four city blocks long!” &lt;br /&gt;With little admiration of the ship George replied,   &lt;br /&gt;   “It’s a dangerous thing to say even God can’t do something.”  George had heard all the talk of the new ship and how men believed that even God couldn’t sink the huge ship. &lt;br /&gt;    Margaret gazed at the picture of the steal leviathan. How she longed to see the beauty which lay inside the great ship, golden fixtures with silks and satins in every room.&lt;br /&gt;    Upon arriving in the village, the market was buzzing with the talk of war. Margaret was quick to get her things. The Kiser was, in her mind, a man not to be trusted. She had begun to hate living in Germany. She was now dreaming of going to America. If only she and George could escape before the Kiser brought war to their homeland. &gt;&lt;a href="http://www.yellowhousefarmnh.com/images/gallery/w500/120519425371.168.86.29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 500px; height: 334px;" src="http://www.yellowhousefarmnh.com/images/gallery/w500/120519425371.168.86.29.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  George was calm and always slow about shopping for feed, until Margaret told him what she had over heard. He changed his mind about purchasing feed and supplies for the farm and instead kept the money in his pocket. The Yoder’s had been waiting and saving money for years to try and make it to America. Now the time had come to make that trip.  Before leaving the village that day, George quickly filled out the documents he would need to leave Germany and mailed them to Berlin. &lt;br /&gt;  Margaret was excited and also filled with worried anxiety on the way home. Leaving Germany… it just wasn’t real to her; could it be possible that she and George would finally be packing for the trip to American after all these years?  The next day George sold everything the couple had except for a few meager personal belongings. The farm, the house, all of the livestock and the small amount of furniture they had acquired over time was now a small roll of bills tucked neatly into George’s pocket.&lt;br /&gt;     The traveling day finally arrived.  The clothes were packed into a large leather bound suitcase. Two precious items Margaret packed for the journey was a leather Bible and inside the Bible a tattered newspaper picture of an American flag. Her father had given her the Bible many years ago at their wedding and it had been the books which the couple had lived be all that time.  The picture of the American flag was a dream which she carried in her heart.&lt;a href="http://www.reformationucc.org/wp-content/uploads/2008/02/orig_old_hands_on_bible.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 365px; height: 193px;" src="http://www.reformationucc.org/wp-content/uploads/2008/02/orig_old_hands_on_bible.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    By now, George had the wagon hooked up and the horses fed before loading the few items. The money was still securely in his pocket and he was filled with a nervous excitement.  It was a grueling trip to France and here George sold the horses and wagon for a few francs. This money would pay for the ferry across the English Channel and the rest of their trip to Southampton. &lt;br /&gt;     It seemed like a dream when they finally arrived and saw all of the ships sitting in the harbor. One of them would be their passport to freedom. George purchased tickets on a ship called the New York which was leaving in two days. However on the day that they were supposed to leave, they were met by an officer at the boarding dock who told them that the coal strike had caused a shortage and only the Titanic could sail that day. All of the passengers from the New York were already being transported to the Titanic. Margaret was astonished. She was going to travel on that beautiful ship after all! The marvelous ship would take her to the land of freedom. &lt;br /&gt;     At this news about the New York, George however, was met with an eerie feeling about the great ship. But the two didn’t have any choice. It was, take it, or leave it. And leaving it meant leaving the dream of a free land full of promise and hope.  They must take it and sail on the Titanic. &lt;br /&gt;    As the two climbed the long ramp inside the third class corridors the music from the extravagant first class public rooms could faintly be heard floating down as they boarded the ship. On the stern deck, third class passengers waved farewell to England as it shrank into the horizon of that great ocean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.ns88.com/shop/images/german-WW1-patch.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 300px;" src="http://www.ns88.com/shop/images/german-WW1-patch.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;       To learn more of what’s happens to the Yoder’s and the rest of the third class passengers aboard the Titanic come back next week to read the continued page.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1161442080150628406-3355884152820772822?l=greatshipdisasters.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://greatshipdisasters.blogspot.com/feeds/3355884152820772822/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1161442080150628406&amp;postID=3355884152820772822&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161442080150628406/posts/default/3355884152820772822'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161442080150628406/posts/default/3355884152820772822'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://greatshipdisasters.blogspot.com/2010/04/freedom-ship.html' title='The Freedom Ship'/><author><name>American Home</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-12yffMLyJW4/TZIeLsgguTI/AAAAAAAAAnU/EofUr0y6Jgg/s220/897554324_AB7o2-XL.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zE6CCv___O8/SYd48-FQgFI/AAAAAAAAAaY/SfF9ZQFt1AE/s72-c/Work-Boots-8-x10.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1161442080150628406.post-3802181066428515103</id><published>2009-10-29T18:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-29T19:18:28.341-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Captain abandons ship.'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Oceanos'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Doomed Ship'/><title type='text'>Oceanos</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/47/162921515_3f8bfbb314.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 242px;" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/47/162921515_3f8bfbb314.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;August 4, 1991, four hundred vacationing people gathered on the decks on the Greek cruise liner, Oceanos to celebrate the start of their dream vacation. Little did they realize in just twelve hours, their dream vacation would turn in to a nightmare.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;August 4, 1991, the Oceanos was struck by a tropical storm. However, the wind and waves were not the problem. In one of the forward water tight compartments a pipe burst allowing water to spray violently through the floor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The captain knew of this. However, he did not warn the passengers. He and some of his crew abandoned the four hundred people who trusted him for their safety. They were left alone on the doomed ship. Just before a life boat was lowered, Julian Butler, and entertainer, arrived on deck. Angrily, he asked why no passengers were being put on the life boats. The captain turned and said, "Bring Ten!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://media.shipspotting.com/uploads/thumbs/rw/833736_800/Ship+Photo+OCEANOS.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 224px;" src="http://media.shipspotting.com/uploads/thumbs/rw/833736_800/Ship+Photo+OCEANOS.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the ship's bow nosed dangerously to the port side, guitarist, Moss Hills, rushed below deck to see how quickly the water was rising. He found water gushing through the main passenger areas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back on deck he gave the news to Julian. Quickly they began to fill the boats. However neither of them knew the precautions to take. And after lowering only a few boats the ship lurched over too far to lower anymore boats.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quickly, Moss rushed to the bridge. He made contact with the coast guard giving their position and the time he thought they had left. A few hours later the helicopters arrived. Moss and Julian sent the passengers up as fast as they could to the safety of the waiting helicopters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After everyone was rescued, it was time for Moss and Julian to go as well. Just as the others had been airlifted, Moss &amp; Julian tied the ropes around themselves and were lifted to safety.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With everyone safe all eyes were on the Oceanos. Her huge hull lifted up out of the water until it was completely vertical. Everything movable inside the ship crashed towards the bow. Then with a final death moan. The Oceanos disappeared beneath the South African waves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://blogs.dispatch.co.za/dispatchnow/wp-content/blogs.dir/37/files/oceanos/do-oceanos-03.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 326px; height: 256px;" src="http://blogs.dispatch.co.za/dispatchnow/wp-content/blogs.dir/37/files/oceanos/do-oceanos-03.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1161442080150628406-3802181066428515103?l=greatshipdisasters.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://greatshipdisasters.blogspot.com/feeds/3802181066428515103/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1161442080150628406&amp;postID=3802181066428515103&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161442080150628406/posts/default/3802181066428515103'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161442080150628406/posts/default/3802181066428515103'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://greatshipdisasters.blogspot.com/2009/10/oceanos.html' title='Oceanos'/><author><name>American Home</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-12yffMLyJW4/TZIeLsgguTI/AAAAAAAAAnU/EofUr0y6Jgg/s220/897554324_AB7o2-XL.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm1.static.flickr.com/47/162921515_3f8bfbb314_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1161442080150628406.post-3921496691330679383</id><published>2009-07-23T18:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-23T19:03:54.341-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='World War 2'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Omaha Beach'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='favorite maritime adventure. share your story'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Normandy Invasion.'/><title type='text'>What's Your Favorite Maritime Story?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4tBvMOVALTU/SmkV8fuduBI/AAAAAAAAAJY/fZR109N_YJ0/s1600-h/omaha+beach+june+6+1944+-+2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 151px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4tBvMOVALTU/SmkV8fuduBI/AAAAAAAAAJY/fZR109N_YJ0/s200/omaha+beach+june+6+1944+-+2.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361840960414005266" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is your chance to tell everyone what your favorite maritime story is. Take your time write use as many words as you like and add your story on the comment page. Share your favorite adventure with us. My grandfather was at Omaha Beach during the Normandy invasion. He is my hero!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1161442080150628406-3921496691330679383?l=greatshipdisasters.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://greatshipdisasters.blogspot.com/feeds/3921496691330679383/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1161442080150628406&amp;postID=3921496691330679383&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161442080150628406/posts/default/3921496691330679383'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161442080150628406/posts/default/3921496691330679383'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://greatshipdisasters.blogspot.com/2009/07/whats-your-favorite-maritime-story.html' title='What&apos;s Your Favorite Maritime Story?'/><author><name>American Home</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-12yffMLyJW4/TZIeLsgguTI/AAAAAAAAAnU/EofUr0y6Jgg/s220/897554324_AB7o2-XL.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4tBvMOVALTU/SmkV8fuduBI/AAAAAAAAAJY/fZR109N_YJ0/s72-c/omaha+beach+june+6+1944+-+2.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1161442080150628406.post-3804379897752674894</id><published>2009-05-04T08:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-04T09:07:31.633-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='World War 1'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sinking'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Titanic'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Britannic'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='White Star Line'/><title type='text'>A Casualty of War</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://wpcontent.answers.com/wikipedia/commons/d/de/Britannic_sinking.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 286px; height: 161px;" src="http://wpcontent.answers.com/wikipedia/commons/d/de/Britannic_sinking.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Britannic was the Titanic's younger sister ship. She took her older sisters place as the biggest, the safest, and the most luxurious ship flying the British flag. Only the outbreak of World War 1 had prevented her from joining White Star Line's fleet of luxury liners. Her fancy fittings were put into storage, the promenade deck was crowded with hospital beds and the first class dinning room was made the intensive care ward. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nurse Sheila Macbeth stayed in an unfinished first class cabin. This next voyage was to be her sixteenth. Hospital ship or passenger liner her wanderings must have been fascinating this being Titanic's younger sister.With every bed full, the Britannic could carry 3,309 patients. Only the Aquatania could carry more, almost 4,200 more. The Britannic would remain empty until she reached the Mediterranean theaters. The nurses and doctors had nothing to do but make sure the hospital was ready for its patients. Nurse Macbeth spent the first part of the voyage making beds but still found time for a morning gymnastics class and an afternoon swim in the first class pool. On the Britannic’s previous voyage she returned with every bed full and it took fifteen hospital trains to transport the casualties from Southampton. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In theory, the Britannic was safe from attack under the Geneva Convention. But the Germans suspected hospital ships of secretly transporting troops, a charge that would be laid against the Britannic after she sank.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tuesday morning dawned as perfect a day as November in the Mediterranean could offer. Reverend Fleming rose early to admire the sunrise. The water was as glass and the sun shone on it with a dazzling brilliance. At around 8:00 a.m., the Army Medical Corps had finished breakfast in their mess hall. But the nurses, doctors, and officers were still eating in the dinning room which was meant for the third class passengers. On the bridge, a watch change was under way. Most of the water tight doors were left open to allow the crew to transfer. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nurse Macbeth had slept in late. As she seated her self for breakfast, there was a loud bang and the ship shuttered from one end to the other! The Britannic had just struck a German mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The seriousness’ of the situation was not clear to the people in the middle or stern of the ship, but for those in the bow it was obvious the ship was in deep trouble. The water gushed from G deck to E deck in a matter of minutes. Already the forward part of the ship was in ruins. Captain Bartlett nosed the ships bow to the island of Kea. As the ships engines started the, the Britannic began to sink even faster. Quickly he ordered an all stop. In the dinning room everyone was ordered to remain in their seats. According to nurse Sheila "there was only a most unnatural silence."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once the alarm was sounded they were aloud to leave, but the evacuation was quiet and orderly. Sheila headed strait for her cabin. Quickly she grabbed a coat, pillow, and lifebelt. Before she left she took one last glance at her homely cabin. As she headed down the hall, the chatter of other nurses and doctors was the only thing the that kept her from noticing how bad the ship was leaning. In the time Sheila took to get up to the Boat deck, the Britannic's condition grew from serious to grave. The mine had blown up the bulk head, sealing off the forepeak and wrecked the water tight doors in the fireman’s passage that led aft to boiler room No. 6, the maximum amount before a ship sinks. ( The Germans were evil in both World Wars. They were like the Devil a roaring lion seeking whom he may devour. If every German were like Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the world would never have gone to war).&lt;br /&gt;Since boiler room No. 5 was well aft of the explosion, the water tight doors should have worked properly, but they failed to close. Soon boiler room No. 6 was flooded and inoperable. On the Boat deck two life boats were lowered without permission. They were caught in the propellers that were just breaking surface. Seventy people were either killed or wounded.&lt;br /&gt;The Britannic was now severely listing, her bow was almost under water. The nurses and army medical corps were assembled on the Promenade deck, quietly waiting their turn. Major Priestly took charge of the orderlies. He kept his troops in line only allowing five men out on deck at a time.&lt;br /&gt;A group of firemen took over a lifeboat on the poop deck and rowed it away half empty. they were persuaded to pick up swimmers after the ship went down. A lot of boats were launched without seamen on board. In Sheila's boat most of the nurses took the oars. However, the ship was soon empty. Her bow completely under water, her starboard list increasing, and her propellers slowly turning in thin air. Captain Barlett stayed on the bridge to the last, directing the evacuation with a megaphone. He sounded the abandon ship alert, and one long blow on the ships whistle, then stepped off the starboard bridge wing into the water. As he pulled himself into a collapsible boat, he turned to watch his command disappear. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Slowly the water drowned the deck. Each of her four funnels crashed into the water. The boilers let out death defying explosions. Then, like a giant leviathan, the Britannic reared up until she was somewhat vertical, then disappeared beneath the Mediterranean waves at a 395 ft depth.&lt;br /&gt;The time was 9:07 am. roughly 55 minutes after the single deadly explosion had interrupted a routine morning. In less than an hour, the largest British built ship afloat had vanished, leaving behind 35 lifeboats on an empty sea&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1161442080150628406-3804379897752674894?l=greatshipdisasters.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://greatshipdisasters.blogspot.com/feeds/3804379897752674894/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1161442080150628406&amp;postID=3804379897752674894&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161442080150628406/posts/default/3804379897752674894'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161442080150628406/posts/default/3804379897752674894'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://greatshipdisasters.blogspot.com/2009/05/casualty-of-war.html' title='A Casualty of War'/><author><name>American Home</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-12yffMLyJW4/TZIeLsgguTI/AAAAAAAAAnU/EofUr0y6Jgg/s220/897554324_AB7o2-XL.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1161442080150628406.post-8594477673721962417</id><published>2009-03-12T19:21:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-12T19:21:33.279-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Final Crossing</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/vqe37U9IH6k&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;color1=0x5d1719&amp;color2=0xcd311b"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/vqe37U9IH6k&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;color1=0x5d1719&amp;color2=0xcd311b" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1161442080150628406-8594477673721962417?l=greatshipdisasters.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://greatshipdisasters.blogspot.com/feeds/8594477673721962417/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1161442080150628406&amp;postID=8594477673721962417&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161442080150628406/posts/default/8594477673721962417'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161442080150628406/posts/default/8594477673721962417'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://greatshipdisasters.blogspot.com/2009/03/final-crossing.html' title='Final Crossing'/><author><name>American Home</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-12yffMLyJW4/TZIeLsgguTI/AAAAAAAAAnU/EofUr0y6Jgg/s220/897554324_AB7o2-XL.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1161442080150628406.post-3937122737642085721</id><published>2009-03-06T08:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-06T09:51:56.786-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ship'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='terror'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Andrea Doria'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tragedy'/><title type='text'>An Italian Tragedy</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.garemaritime.com/features/andrea-doria/doria_postcard.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 405px; height: 314px;" src="http://www.garemaritime.com/features/andrea-doria/doria_postcard.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                                                         &lt;br /&gt;John Arrives' was a twenty two year old missionary in Spain. He had been away from his beloved parents and friends in New York for almost two years. He purchased a ticket on the Italian flag ship Andrea Doria to America. He had been waiting for his return trip home for a month.&lt;br /&gt; The day he set sail he could hardly contain himself. He was staying in a lovely first class cabin. The Andrea Doria was the safest ship of the twentieth century. She was said to be practically unsinkable. The Titanic had sunk almost four decades before so most people believed that we had finally defeated nature. &lt;br /&gt;  The oceans were smooth throughout the entire voyage. John dwindled his time away by thinking of all of his friends that he had not seen since 1954. The thought of his family kept a warm fussy feeling inside of him. &lt;br /&gt;   On the morning of July 25, 1956, the Andrea Doria ran into a heavy fog. But the passengers feared nothing inside the 697 foot long ocean liner. Officer Johonnson was in charge of the 8:30 to 12:00 watch.&lt;br /&gt;   At around 10:20 the Andrea Doria changed her course, heading strait to her doom. John aroused early to get his things together. They were entering the busiest lanes on the ocean, the New York shipping lanes. As john gazed out his window he thought he saw a glimmer in the fog. But it only lasted a second. At the time he didn’t think anything of it, he was much to excided about getting home. &lt;br /&gt;  He turned to put on a coat, so he could go out on deck. As he left his cabin, the ship rocked as if it were on a wake. Suddenly there was a great force of impact and the ship jerked to her port side. The scuffling and shouting of passengers in there cabin made every thing worse.&lt;br /&gt;  John had been thrown back into his cabin. He was wedged under his bed. When he had finally gotten up he starred at the wall unbelievingly. The bow of the fretter Stockholm had torn its way into the Andrea Doria! Frantically he tried to catch his balance on the uneven floors. Suddenly, there was a terrible moan and the bow of the Stockholm pulled away. The Andrea Doria leaned far over onto her starboard side.&lt;br /&gt;   John lost his balance in all the rocking. He fell backward onto the dresser. Before he could grab it, the picture of his family slid across the floor into the ocean. John scooted back and sat against the wall, and leaned his head on the door. A million thoughts were going through his mind. The biggest one was,” would he ever see New York again. &lt;br /&gt;  As he sat thinking he heard a cry for help. Quickly he got up and ran into the corridor, witch was not as lit as before. One of the doors was cracked open. As he slipped in the cry came again. It was coming from in this room. After he was fully in the room the lights got very low then came on as bright as before. What the light showed was an unbelievable site. A huge piece of floor had fallen two decks down, and on the other side sat a girl on a three foot ledge. She was not much older than John. The only thing that connected the corridor to the ledge was a wooden plank.&lt;br /&gt;  John hesitated then got on his hands and knees and began to crawl on the plank. He made it across safely. Quickly he told the girl (whose name was Christine) what to do. She turned and cautiously crawled along the plank. Silently, John started too. However, just as they reached the center there was a slight creak. They both stopped dead in there tracks. Suddenly the plank gave way and the two plummeted three decks.&lt;br /&gt;  They landed in waste deep of water. The lights were completely dead. The only sound was the water gushing in through the hole in the wall, which was smaller than the one three decks above. John pushed his way to the door. Christine grasped his bare arm. The sleeve had been torn off in the collision.&lt;br /&gt;  The corridor was pitch dark. The water that surrounded John and Christine was bitterly cold. As they pushed there way through the wreckage, the ship lurched over. Christine began to panic. But John put all of his trust in Jesus. After a little frustration he convinced Christine that everything would be alright. She took a look at his face and saw that he was not worried. She asked him how he had so much peace. He told her about God and how He had sent his only son to die on the cross for all mankind. And that no matter what you had done in your life he loves you and wants you to be his child, and live with Him in Heaves for all eternity.&lt;br /&gt;   She gave this some thought and then accepted. After all, the choices for eternity can be difficult. God gave you two choices in life. Follow the world and be doomed to the Lake of Fire for all eternity, or follow Him and live with Him in Paradise for all eternity.&lt;br /&gt;     All at once Christine was no longer worried about the sinking vessel she was on or the water that could fill the corridor up at any second. She was full of peace. Not worldly peace. This was a perfect, heavenly, and spiritual peace that she had never felt before.&lt;br /&gt;  A staircase loomed up in front of them. As they climbed up it slowly began to brighter. Once they reached the top they realized that they were in the first class dinning room. It was not as full of life as it had been the night before. The lights however, were burning brightly. For the first time in all the sinking, the ship let out an erei death mone. John and Christine walked briskly through the dinning room to the elevators. Luckily they were both open. The elevator took them to there cabin on B deck. Since Christine’s room had been utterly destroyed, John lent her some cackie shorts and a t-shirt. The hallway that had been deserted only a few minutes before was now flooded with excitement. John’s cabin was a wreck. There was a slight struggle looking for things. Eventually they were dressed. &lt;br /&gt;    As they walked through the once again deserted corridor, Christine turned around. John asked her what the matter was. She said she thought she had heard something. They turned around and walked back to the elevators. Christine looked around. She knew that she had herd a cry for help. Suddenly the cry came again. This time they both heard it. It sounded like a little boy.&lt;br /&gt;  John sprang through the dinning room doors towards the stairwell. All ready the sound and smell of sea water had drifted into the dinning room. As they went down the stairs they realized how quickly they were going down. The hallway, one deck above the one that they had just been in, was ankle deep with water. The floors beneath them rocked with the sea. The ship was now at a level to where there was no control over it. The bustling sound of all the passengers on the boat deck was very faint. But what caught there attention most was a terrified boy about five sitting in the water. Slowly he looked up. The red rings around his eyes told them that he had been crying. Christine bent down and asked were his family was. &lt;a href="http://www.ack.net/images/AndreaDoria-HarryTrask3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 220px; height: 175px;" src="http://www.ack.net/images/AndreaDoria-HarryTrask3.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Almost weeping again he said his father and mother had been taken by the freighter ship and his sister left with her boyfriend. Christine and John began to find it hard to hold the tears back. John held out his hand. The boy looked a little confused as he took his hand and got up. Lovingly John asked him what his name was. As the tears in his eyes began to clear he said, &lt;em&gt;"Will."&lt;/em&gt;... &lt;br /&gt;(To be continued)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1161442080150628406-3937122737642085721?l=greatshipdisasters.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://greatshipdisasters.blogspot.com/feeds/3937122737642085721/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1161442080150628406&amp;postID=3937122737642085721&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161442080150628406/posts/default/3937122737642085721'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161442080150628406/posts/default/3937122737642085721'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://greatshipdisasters.blogspot.com/2009/03/italian-tragedy.html' title='An Italian Tragedy'/><author><name>American Home</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-12yffMLyJW4/TZIeLsgguTI/AAAAAAAAAnU/EofUr0y6Jgg/s220/897554324_AB7o2-XL.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1161442080150628406.post-8166342772173339672</id><published>2009-02-20T07:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-20T09:16:50.880-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sinking'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Titanic'/><title type='text'>The Turning Point...A Lost Era</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4tBvMOVALTU/SZ7iJm5hlLI/AAAAAAAAAGY/Ac5YoYFjhTs/s1600-h/Picture+015.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 140px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4tBvMOVALTU/SZ7iJm5hlLI/AAAAAAAAAGY/Ac5YoYFjhTs/s200/Picture+015.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304926065777546418" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Passenger in the gym&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Titanic sailed through the North Atlantic Ocean on a dark moonless night. Her lookouts scanned the ocean fifty feet above the ships decks. The officers on the bridge kept the four city block long ocean liner steady and on course. The first class smoking room was full of millionaires gambling for more money. Second and third class passengers were asleep in there cabins. &lt;br /&gt;In the crows nest the lookouts spotted a dark object that loomed out of the ocean. Suddenly, they realized that the Titanic was quickly approaching an iceberg. As one rang the bell, the other phoned the bridge. Quickly he gave the warning. First officer Murdoch ordered the engines reverse and hard starboard. Just as it looked as if they were going to clear the mountian of ice, the floor beneath them began to vibrate. The unsinkable ship was sinking. &lt;br /&gt;Amazed, first class passengers watched the enormous berg slide past. The millionaire’s suites on the upper decks of the ship were still as quiet as before. However, the third class passengers were jarred awake as the sound of grinding metal echoed through the corridors. In the forward boiler rooms, engineers raced for their lives against the raging sea. &lt;br /&gt;Mr. Andrews was aroused and asked to come to the bridge. Captain Smith knew the ship had been damaged but he would like to know how badly. After he told Mr. Andrews what to do, he gave orders for all the ships passengers to be awakened. Some crew members were told to unlock all exits out of third class.&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4tBvMOVALTU/SZ7izKuCHcI/AAAAAAAAAGg/NLdb-a7s7RU/s1600-h/Picture+048.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 134px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4tBvMOVALTU/SZ7izKuCHcI/AAAAAAAAAGg/NLdb-a7s7RU/s200/Picture+048.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304926779767659970" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Molly Brown&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In first class, most passengers were reluctant to leave there warm cabins and go out on deck. But nevertheless, the crew succeeded. In third class however, a lot of passengers could not speak English so very few knew how to get to safety. At the far end of the third class corridor on H deck, water came up through the stairwell. On the boat deck, passengers looked around curiously as the floors began to list. Some first class women were still in the evening gowns they wore to dinner that night. &lt;br /&gt;On the bridge, Mr. Andrews came back with devastating news. In one hour or so, the unsinkable Titanic would be at the bottom of the ocean. Captain Smith was reluctant to believe this could happen, but he remembered there were over 2,000 people in his care. Quickly he ordered women and children in the boats. As the first boat was being loaded, very few woman wanted to leave the Titanic and get into a rickety little boat. After all, there is nothing this ship cannot handle, why worry about her sinking. This thought entered many passenger's minds. Little did they realize one deck below the first class dining room was already beginning to flood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4tBvMOVALTU/SZ7kn1kpNCI/AAAAAAAAAGo/pZIrEsfSnyQ/s1600-h/Picture+007.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 140px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4tBvMOVALTU/SZ7kn1kpNCI/AAAAAAAAAGo/pZIrEsfSnyQ/s200/Picture+007.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304928784135828514" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Two Survivors&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Grand Staircase was full of passengers staying in from the cold. The list of the ship, which had grown worse, did not seem to bother anyone nor did the water which was rapidly filling the first class reception room just six decks below it. With one foot in a port hole and the other on the side of a boat, second officer Lightoller helped the woman and children into the off the slanting decks.&lt;br /&gt;The ships band played music as the work was being done. It drifted onto the bridge where Captain Smith stood looking out over the ship's bow which was about to go under water. He placed one hand on the ships wheel and looked around the quiet bridge. The water began climbing onto the bow. The realization of the danger began to firmly penetrate the passengers hearts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last of the forward lifeboats were being loaded when officer Lightoller looked up and saw the bow of the &lt;em&gt;great ship&lt;/em&gt; swallowed up by the frigid Atlantic. He knew the ship was slipping away to a watery grave and fear gripped his heart as he realized how many souls would join the beautiful ship in death. The water had risen to the second landing of the Grand Staircase in a matter of minutes. Lightoller blindly gazed around in dismay at all of the passengers still left on board. Most of them had gone toward the stern where the last few lifeboats remained. The Grand Staircase had been abandon and the smell and sound of the ocean lingered inside. &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4tBvMOVALTU/SZ7f7xxgn9I/AAAAAAAAAGA/GRSo6K0joF8/s1600-h/Picture+049.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 104px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4tBvMOVALTU/SZ7f7xxgn9I/AAAAAAAAAGA/GRSo6K0joF8/s200/Picture+049.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304923629155295186" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;A Lady's Shoe &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The band stopped playing for a few seconds but started up once more to play the famous hymn, Nearer My God to Thee. Many women in the boats looked at the ship in disbelief. Her bow was nine feet under water, the promenade deck was rapidly filling, and the propellers were slowly rising out of the ocean. The thought of their fathers and husbands on board the sinking vessel nearly killed them. The passengers who stayed toward the front of the ship in order to swim away were quickly sucked into the promenade deck or one of the saloons on the boat deck as the bow sunk lower and lower. The few who survived swam desperately to the boats. &lt;br /&gt;The water was now surging through the B deck landing of the Grand Staircase. Furniture from the first class dinning room swished around the room. The screams of passengers echoed through the ship. The angel which stood guarding the foot of the staircase was ripped from its place as the sea slammed through the windows. Some passengers escaped by running through the doors that led out to the boat deck. Others were lost in the the chaos of the sinking ship. Suddenly, with a defining roar, the water crashed through the beautiful ornate glass and iron dome that crowned the Grand Staircase. &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4tBvMOVALTU/SZ7W1TC2hyI/AAAAAAAAAFw/4QwjzSAj_mk/s1600-h/Picture+003.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4tBvMOVALTU/SZ7W1TC2hyI/AAAAAAAAAFw/4QwjzSAj_mk/s200/Picture+003.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304913622222669602" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Final Moments&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the forward part of the boat deck disappeared, the first funnel crashed into the sea with an eerie moan. While the stern rose higher into the air, some passengers looked at the ocean for any signs of the rescue ship. They began to lose hope and jumped into the sea. Just after the second funnel sank, the ship stopped moving, but the shouts and cries for help did not.&lt;br /&gt;The sound of furniture crashing towards the bow drifted across the water to the boats. Second officer Ligholler was at the very edge of the stern clinging to the rails. He looked back to get a final glimpse of the ship. It was hard to believe that he had been asleep in his bed, which was now under water, only an hour before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The ship was completely diagonal, her bow pointing down to the ocean floor and her propellers pointing to the stars. Suddenly the lights flickered out and came on again for a split second then, went out all together. Moans from the ship's straining hull filled the air. Sounds of cracking metal echoed through the night. Suddenly the screams became horrific as the hull split in half and the stern plummeted to the ocean surface.&lt;br /&gt;The passengers on the ship could not see what was happening, but the people in the boats could hardly believe their eyes.&lt;br /&gt;Just as the passengers were catching there balance, the ship lurched foreword and the stern began to rise once again out of the ocean. Second officer Lightoller pulled himself over the railings, then began helping other passengers over as well. The ship sat completely vertical for almost fifteen seconds. Some passengers began to think it would stay afloat, but all at once she gave a final moan then past from the British Register into a great darkness.&lt;br /&gt;The &lt;em&gt;unsinkable&lt;/em&gt; Titanic was gone forever.&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4tBvMOVALTU/SZ7fjfQFaEI/AAAAAAAAAF4/IXp2pMC561c/s1600-h/Picture+037.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 133px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4tBvMOVALTU/SZ7fjfQFaEI/AAAAAAAAAF4/IXp2pMC561c/s200/Picture+037.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304923211866400834" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Faded Glory&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1161442080150628406-8166342772173339672?l=greatshipdisasters.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://greatshipdisasters.blogspot.com/feeds/8166342772173339672/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1161442080150628406&amp;postID=8166342772173339672&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161442080150628406/posts/default/8166342772173339672'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161442080150628406/posts/default/8166342772173339672'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://greatshipdisasters.blogspot.com/2009/02/turning-point-lost-era.html' title='The Turning Point...&lt;em&gt;A Lost Era&lt;/em&gt;'/><author><name>American Home</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-12yffMLyJW4/TZIeLsgguTI/AAAAAAAAAnU/EofUr0y6Jgg/s220/897554324_AB7o2-XL.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4tBvMOVALTU/SZ7iJm5hlLI/AAAAAAAAAGY/Ac5YoYFjhTs/s72-c/Picture+015.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1161442080150628406.post-4357761761273663358</id><published>2009-01-29T19:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-12T08:35:37.963-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sinking of a Cunard</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.greatships.net/scans/PC-LU31P1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 207px; height: 369px;" src="http://www.greatships.net/scans/PC-LU31P1.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was high noon on May 7, 1914 and the Lusitania sailed across the Atlantic. The first class passengers ate lunch in the dinning room. &lt;br /&gt;Some enjoyed the crisp breeze as they watched the water splash against the ships black hull from the boat deck. The lookouts on the bridge spotted a peculiar object just below the surface off the starboard bow. Suddenly, they both realized they were looking at a German U-boat. Before they could deliver the news, there was a huge explosion and a fountain of salt water blasted upon the deck. The lookouts stared at each other with a terrified knowing look. The Lusitania had been struck by a German torpedo!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the blink of an eye, there was a second explosion directly under the first funnel. Passengers were quickly being evacuated in the first class dinning room. The deck was now covered with horrified tourists fleeing to the lifeboats. Some of the lucky few third class passengers ran through the brightly lit first class corridors and public room. As on the Titanic, most of them didn't speak English so the signs that led to safety did nothing to help them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ten minutes after the impact water crashed onto the bow. The ship was now lurched over too far to lower any more boats. The first level of the dinning room was filling with water. Quickly the sea began raging onto the first class corridor. The passengers in the elevator waited anxiously as they passed deck after deck. Suddenly the elevator jerked to a stop and the lights flickered out. As the stern rose higher, passengers jumped over the side, or slid down the deck. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flatrock.org.nz/topics/history/assets/lusitania_7_may_1915.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://www.flatrock.org.nz/topics/history/assets/lusitania_7_may_1915.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Joyously the U- boat emerged from the surface to watch the ship go down. The Germans were delighted that their torpedo had completed its mission. Many American and English lives would be lost at sea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was now eighteen minutes after the impact. The ship was completely diagonal. Rapidly, she went down silently as the grave rose up to meet her. Twenty minutes later the Lusitania arrived at the ocean floor. She still rests in the same site today. Sadly, she has lost her former elegance. She has been stripped of her boat deck and stern. Today the Lusitania is a mass of twisted metal; she is an unrecognizable image of the beauty she once was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.solarnavigator.net/images/explorers_history/lusitania_wreckage.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 250px; height: 166px;" src="http://www.solarnavigator.net/images/explorers_history/lusitania_wreckage.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1161442080150628406-4357761761273663358?l=greatshipdisasters.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://greatshipdisasters.blogspot.com/feeds/4357761761273663358/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1161442080150628406&amp;postID=4357761761273663358&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161442080150628406/posts/default/4357761761273663358'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161442080150628406/posts/default/4357761761273663358'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://greatshipdisasters.blogspot.com/2009/01/minutes-of-terror.html' title='Sinking of a Cunard'/><author><name>American Home</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-12yffMLyJW4/TZIeLsgguTI/AAAAAAAAAnU/EofUr0y6Jgg/s220/897554324_AB7o2-XL.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1161442080150628406.post-8147161155876482820</id><published>2009-01-21T12:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-10T21:28:14.887-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Empress of Ireland'/><title type='text'>The Forgotten Empress</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.tekdiv.com/images/Stair.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 218px;" src="http://www.tekdiv.com/images/Stair.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the Empress of Ireland sailed into the St Lawrence River, May 29, 1914, Laurence Irving lay awake in his first class cabin. He and his wife, Mabel, were returning from a successful stage tour. They were becoming quite a popular pair of actors. While he lay there the ships engines began to change directions. Suddenly, at about 2:00 a.m., the ship leaned drastically over to her port side. The sound of grinding metal echoed through the first class corridor. All at once the ship lunged to her starboard side, and the Irving’s cabin was plunged into a silent darkness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The impact had been so great, it threw Laurence and Mabel to the opposite side of their cabin. Frantically, Laurence groped in the darkness for the lifebelts. Mabel staggered to her feet. She slipped her lifebelt on over her fur coat. As the two left the room, the floors became almost unbearably steep. The Irvings joined the 1,000 passengers running from the rising water that was drowning third and second class. The death sounds of the ship as she sank lower were almost obscured by the terrified passengers screams. The crew hastily lowered the sixth lifeboat. Worriedly, as they loaded the seventh life boat, the ship lurched too far to her starboard side making it impossible to lower it safely. The panic stricken passengers could do nothing but helplessly watch the boats float away from the sinking vessel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Inside, water gushed through open portholes and into the first class dinning room. Unexpectedly, the ship toppled over onto her starboard side. Laurence and Mabel clung to the port side railings. Many other passengers did the same. Laurence hoisted himself onto the ships black hull. After doing so, he helped Mabel over the railing. For what seemed like hours, the ship sat there, still and quiet. It seemed to some passengers that she had run aground and would stay afloat. However, just as hope was rising, the bow lurched forward. For a brief moment, the stern rose out of the water then disappeared beneath the surface. It took only fourteen minutes for the beautiful ship to sink in the frigid St. Lawrence River carrying with her one thousand and twelve souls. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Laurence swam with all his might for safety thinking Mabel was with him. As he crawled to safety, he realized that he had lost Mabel in the confusion. Hysterically, he called her name out over and over. Then remembering that she could not swim, he jumped back into the icy river to search for his beloved wife. The two were never seen again.&lt;br /&gt;The Empress of Ireland would soon become a forgotten legend being overshadowed by the Titanic and soon to follow, World War 1. Her heroes live on in the hearts and minds of those who still seek them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1030/970313337_e76032c373.jpg?v=0"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 324px; height: 500px;" src="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1030/970313337_e76032c373.jpg?v=0" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Laurence Irving&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1161442080150628406-8147161155876482820?l=greatshipdisasters.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://greatshipdisasters.blogspot.com/feeds/8147161155876482820/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1161442080150628406&amp;postID=8147161155876482820&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161442080150628406/posts/default/8147161155876482820'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161442080150628406/posts/default/8147161155876482820'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://greatshipdisasters.blogspot.com/2009/01/forgotten-empress.html' title='The Forgotten Empress'/><author><name>American Home</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-12yffMLyJW4/TZIeLsgguTI/AAAAAAAAAnU/EofUr0y6Jgg/s220/897554324_AB7o2-XL.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1161442080150628406.post-4242324194783820784</id><published>2009-01-07T11:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-07T16:03:01.700-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sinking'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='thomas andrews'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Titanic'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lightoller'/><title type='text'>The Sinking of a Legend</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.paris.web66.com/toureiff/usa/titanic_stern.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 328px;" src="http://www.paris.web66.com/toureiff/usa/titanic_stern.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was 11:00 p.m. on a dark chilly night and an iceberg had just pierced the steel hull of an unsinkable ship. The officers on the bridge looked at each other in dismay as the floor beneath them vibrated. First Officer Murdock gave the command to stop all engines. He gripped the starboard wing railing as the iceberg shaved Titanic's black hull. Some third class passengers played with the ice that scattered upon the well deck. Following the collision, the ship is quiet again. Most first and second class passengers are still sleeping. Little did they realize that a trauma was unfolding in the bow of the ship. Crew members rushed forward to connect the pumps. They believed if they could keep the first four water tight compartments from flooding they could save the ship. They did not know that her builder has already pronounced her &lt;em&gt;dead&lt;/em&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One deck above, just aft the Grand Staircase, the impact is much more obvious to other passengers. First class passengers relaxing in the lounge and smoking room begin to realize that the steady hum and vibration of the engines has ceased. Molly Brown strolled down the promenade deck enjoying the chilly breeze. She was looking down on the well deck with the third class passengers playing kick ball with the large chunks of ice. A nearby crew member walked toward her and asked her to go to her cabin and put on warm clothes and a life jacket. Without any question she turned toward the B deck foyer and Grand Staircase. As she entered into her state room, she noticed that the ship was slightly tilted. She opened up her closet and reached for her fur coat and life jacket. As she slipped on the two items, she realized that her room had just moved lower. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In Third Class, water gushed through open port holes and stairways. Panic stricken passengers searched for the nearest vertical exit. The panic in their hearts was indescribable. Many of them could not speak or read English. Therefore, the signs in the corridor made no sense and offered to help. Around every corner, the water was lapping at their heels. What horror awaited them, they did not know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Second officer Lightoller was aroused a few minutes after the collision. Racing toward the bridge, he noticed that already the ship had sunk to a fifteen degree angle. When he reached the ship's bridge, Captain Smith gave the order to lower the lifeboats with women and children only. Before Mr. Lightholler could get off of the bridge, Thomas Andrews entered the scene. He took the Captain aside and told him the ship had an hour to live and that she had already gained twenty feet of water. Terrified, Mr. Lightholler turned to go to the boats. The once quiet deck was now swarmed with immigrants, tourist, and those merely wanting to return home to America. The women were curiously looking around, the children shivered in the cold, but for some reason the men seamed to know the ship was soon to founder. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By now, the Turkish baths were beginning to flood and Third Class was completely underwater. In the First Class Reception Room, Thomas Andrews went through for one last painful gaze before it sank underwater. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Captain Smith stared down from the bridge as the water poured over the well deck. A few hundred yards away, Molly Brown sat in her boat trying to comfort the crying women and children. She had not been paying attention to the slowly sinking ship until a small girl shouted. As she turned, she could hardly believe what she saw. The ocean was swallowing the deck of the ship in giant gulps. Suddenly, the forward smoke stack crashed toward the deck with a terrible moan. In the Grand Stair Case, the water slammed passengers up against the walls. They rushed up the stairs to escape the raging sea. Viciously, water began to burst through the upper doors and windows dragging people inside to a watery death. Above, the the beautiful glass dome gives way into a million glittering pieces. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Outside, passengers struggled to climb the steep decks which were now becoming more and more vertical decks. On the promenade decks furniture spilled out of windows from restaurants and lounges. In the life boats, women and children could hear their husband's and father's screams and moans as furniture slid toward the bow. Inside the ship, the engineers were doing their best to keep the lights on but the generator finally gave way to the oceans mighty waves. The lights went out. Dark fear covered the hearts of everyone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cries from the stern grew louder as the hull split in half and the stern section plummeted toward the oceans surface. As the bow sank lower, the stern became completely vertical. For what seemed like hours, the stern sat motionless but in reality it was only a few moments. Passengers lost their grips on the railings and fell screaming into the sea. As graceful as she had once sailed the sea, she now sank beneath it's surface with the same grace and beauty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Titanic was no more.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1161442080150628406-4242324194783820784?l=greatshipdisasters.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://greatshipdisasters.blogspot.com/feeds/4242324194783820784/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1161442080150628406&amp;postID=4242324194783820784&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161442080150628406/posts/default/4242324194783820784'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161442080150628406/posts/default/4242324194783820784'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://greatshipdisasters.blogspot.com/2009/01/sinking-of-legend.html' title='The Sinking of a Legend'/><author><name>American Home</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-12yffMLyJW4/TZIeLsgguTI/AAAAAAAAAnU/EofUr0y6Jgg/s220/897554324_AB7o2-XL.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1161442080150628406.post-6327815046231929923</id><published>2008-12-22T10:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-29T08:23:33.494-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Titanic'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fiction'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Christmas'/><title type='text'>The Christmas That Could Have Been...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.titanicbranson.com/images/titanic_media/06_staircase2_lowres.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 407px; height: 376px;" src="http://www.titanicbranson.com/images/titanic_media/06_staircase2_lowres.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Janee, come along, we are going to be late for work!"&lt;br /&gt;Young black haired Janee was a 23 year old maid aboard the Titanic on it's eighteenth voyage. Her hands were full of last minute Christmas gifts for her family and friends in South Hampton. Sharon tapped impatiently as Janee scrambled up the gang plank. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm sorry Sharon, but there was a long line at Macy's" The two young women hurried up the first class passenger plank and into the reception room. The sounds and smells of Christmas were amazing. The chefs were already hard at work roasting one hundred turkeys for the Christmas feast. Rows of sparkling crystal bowls held the fragrant cranberry jellies. The smell was sweet and poignant.The new red crystal dishes that Captain Smith had requested gleamed in the morning sun as it stretched across the room. Red and gold ribbons were everywhere as the scent of pine lingered in the room. There was a magnificent Christmas tree waiting to greet the happy passengers. It was covered with tiny golden birds and twinkling lights. The crew had hung jingle bells all around the promenade deck and the tinkling sounds could be heard everywhere. The girls took the elevator up to B deck. There, the two stepped into the foyer of the magestic Grand Staircase. Once they reached the maids quarters Janee began to lay down her packages. "Sharon look at what I got for Mother! They were having a large mark down in prices!" Janee opened a sparkling white box with the letters Macy's imprinted in gold on it. She pulled out a breathtaking evening gown. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Janee, that is the most dazzling piece of work I have ever seen! It must have cost you the whole voyage's pay." exclaimed Sharon&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Janee replied, "Oh,no, the entire store was having a fifty percent off sale! Mr. Macy greeted everyone as they walked into the store. He and Mr. Straus were also handing out candy canes to all of the children. They said they wanted everyone to have a grand Christmas. But, we better not talk about this now because we still must decorate the lounge and Grand Staircase for Christmas before the passengers arrive!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, which one do you want to do first, the lounge or the staircase?" Sharon said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Let's do the lounge first. I love saving the best for last. Decorating the Grand staircase is my Christmas tradition that I'll always cherish." Janee said wistfully. As the two walked into the elaborate lounge, Janee looked gleefully at the three huge boxes of Christmas decorations. "I'll do the pillars first and you can start on the dome light." She grabbed a box of tinsel and began winding it around the beautiful oak pillars. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happily Sharon began to adorn the large chandelier. Secretly, this was her favorite thing to do. Decorating for Christmas on such a wonderful ship was always a joy for her. As they worked, Janee began singing Christmas carols. Soon both girls cheerfully sang together. In the distance the sounds of joyful Christmas passengers far below on D deck reached their ears. Yes, It would be another glorious Christmas aboard their beloved Titanic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The story you have just read is obviously fiction. However it is also a dream that lives on in the hearts of those who loved the Titanic and all of her graceful charm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The decisions made on April 14,1912 have effected generations of people and will no doubt continue for many years to come. What decisions are you making that will effect future generations. What decisions are you making today that will effect the rest of your life?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1161442080150628406-6327815046231929923?l=greatshipdisasters.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://greatshipdisasters.blogspot.com/feeds/6327815046231929923/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1161442080150628406&amp;postID=6327815046231929923&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161442080150628406/posts/default/6327815046231929923'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1161442080150628406/posts/default/6327815046231929923'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://greatshipdisasters.blogspot.com/2008/12/christmas-that-could-have-been.html' title='The Christmas That Could Have Been...'/><author><name>American Home</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-12yffMLyJW4/TZIeLsgguTI/AAAAAAAAAnU/EofUr0y6Jgg/s220/897554324_AB7o2-XL.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry></feed>
