Titanic: The Last Night POV

The night of April fourteenth was unnaturally still, the ocean a flat mirror under

the stars. At eleven forty, a faint vibration pulsed through the hull.

It felt like a giant finger. Most passengers simply laughed. They thought we

had merely thrown a propeller blade in the ice. Through the windows, a mountain of

white ice slid silently by, ghost-like against the dark sky. The confusion was

gradual. Stewards moved with a new, quiet urgency that felt deeply wrong.

Below decks, the first signs of the Atlantic appeared. A cold,

dark tongue licking the carpet. Orders came to don lifebelts. The weight of