TITANIC-TITANIC.com | Your Work: The Wreck

"Before you read this story, there is something you should know. The study of childhood leukemia on Britain is not funded by the government. It is purely funded through donations. I was not aware of this fact until I met an outstanding lady on a Titanic website. She had lost her ten year old son to this disease, and my heart went out to her. We are now the best of friends, and she is an amazing artist. She is painting a picture to go with this story, and I hope the story does her pic justice. Next time you pass a charity box for cancer, please pop a penny in. Every penny counts. Thank you for reading this story". - Joanne Hindes 03 May 2002

DEDICATED TO
DANIEL SEAN TOOLE
14/02/91 - 15/03/01

The murky waters of the Atlantic ocean were illuminated by the lights of the submersible, as it wound its way ever deeper. The flotsam danced in the beams. Suddenly out of the depths of the ocean rose the wreck of the Titanic. Lying on the ocean floor, a reflection of her former glory she was proud and majestic. The aura of silent dignity that surrounded her touched the hearts of the men in the sub. Theirs was a salvage mission, they had come to collect the debris scattered around her rusting body. Plates, glasses, anything they could grab! The lights caressed the steel of her sides, reflections from the portholes twinkled back.

Just out of the main beams, in the eerie half light, a shadow flickered across a lower porthole. If the men had seen it they would have been forgiven for thinking it was a face. As it was they saw nothing and set about their task. Their main concern was salvaging the precious relics to preserve for the future. As the lights moved on and away from the ship, the shadow came back to the window. The face of a small girl looked on as the men worked.

Rosalynn had been five years and two days old when she boarded the ship in Queenstown. Her father had decided that their future lay in America, he had sold all their belongings and booked them all passage on the Titanic. The whole street had come out to wish them well on their journey, Rita from next door had cried and cried. Rosalynn could not believe her eyes when they arrived at the ship, it was huge! It looked as big as the mountain behind the village. She lifted her doll up so she could have a better view. Her doll Maggie was her most precious possession. Her grandfather had made it for her birthday, Maggie had a china face, little rosebud lips smiled at her owner. Her body was made from a piece of wood that her grandfather had carved with his own hands, he had found the head lying on a tip and made the doll from scraps. The look on Rosalynn's face had been payment enough for all the long hours and splinters. Now Maggie was worn and battered, her dress was in tatters, and one leg had fallen off, but she was loved. Her face was clean and well cared for, although the tip of her nose was shiny and worn away from too many kisses. The third class rooms were as nice as their own homes, better than they thought it would be, and life soon settled down on board. They made many friends, most of them all with the same dreams of a new life in America.

That awful night when the ship had sunk, they had all been singing hymns. Although the grown ups were still awake Rosalynn had gone to bed. The grown ups were talking and laughing. There was music playing, and it was a relaxed atmosphere. A man burst into the room and told them that the ship was sinking, of course at first they did not believe him. But then they noticed that the engines had stopped and that the room seemed to be tilted a little. Her father called into the cabin explaining that he was going to investigate. He was not gone long when he returned telling them to put warm clothes on. They tried to reach the lifeboats but at each turn they were met by barriers and locked gates. Crew men told them that they would be called for when it was their turn to go up. He was so reassuring that they believed him. What fools. The listing in the ship became worse, and water was beginning to show itself. Panic took over, and people were shouting, Rosalynn grew scared. Her father took her and her mother to the stairs to second class. He shouted when he realised that the gates were locked. No one came to open them, no matter how hard he shouted. Rosalynn started to cry, her father was trying to break through the gate. It would not open though even though his hands were bleeding. Other men tried to rip the gate open but it was too strong for them. Women were crying, men were shouting, the noise was terrible. The fear was so bad that it could be smelled and even tasted. Water was growing deeper and deeper on some decks, and the listing was more pronounced. The ship was sinking, and they were trapped like rats. When it became obvious that they were not going to leave the ship her father led them down to the third class dining room to join the others who were huddled there. Panic and fear were in the air as they all faced their deaths. White faces with wide eyes were all around her. Women were sitting crying with their children on their knees. Behind Rosalynn a man began to pray, and soon everyone was deep in prayer making peace with their own gods. Rosalynn clung to her mother with one hand, and Maggie doll with the other. She would be fine she had everything she needed right here with her. A sudden scream rent the air as a violent surge of water crashed into the room filling it in seconds. Rosalynn could feel the ice cold water press her body and she held tight to her doll. Her chest was on fire the need to breathe overwhelming. When she could take it no more she opened her mouth to take in a deep breathe. The fire in her chest was replaced by ice, then everything faded into the darkness. As she slipped into death she saw the faces of all those traveling that final journey, she was not alone. The treasured doll slipped out of her fingers and floated round the room. Somehow when the ship landed on the ocean floor broken and twisted, Maggie doll came to settle on the sea bed also. The sightless eyes looking up at the surface of the ocean, where the lucky ones were now sitting in their life rafts waiting for salvation.

Rosalynn watched the thing outside the porthole, she thought she could see men inside it. There was a large claw thing in front of it picking things up from the ocean floor. She held her breath as it picked up someone's suitcase and placed it into a basket type thing. Why were they taking someone's clothes? Wouldn't the owner need them? She was puzzled.

Still the thing went on picking things up getting nearer and nearer. Suddenly she realised that it was closing in on Maggie Doll! She had kept guard of her special doll for so long now, although she could not pick her up anymore, she could still play with her. That monster wouldn't want her doll would it? How she wished she could go out there and grab her doll, but she couldn't. The yellow thing got nearer and nearer to her pretty dolls face, maybe they would not see her. She prayed that the lights would miss her little china face. Then just as she knew it would, the light was moved to shine down on Maggie.

The WreckRosalynn shouted for them to leave the doll alone, she screamed as loud she could, but all too soon she saw the claw reach down towards the china face. This could not be happening, Maggie was her doll! That thing had no need of her, why didn't it go away. The big metal claw closed around the small face and Rosalynn watched in horror as it lifted it up and swung into the basket. "Nooooo!" She screamed at it, "not my doll, please don't take Maggie", her heart was breaking but the thing chose not to hear her. It began to rise to the surface taking with it a piece of Rosalynn's little life. She pressed her face to the porthole and watched with tears coursing down her face, as the monster took her only precious possession.

Left alone in the dark Rosalynn hugged herself as she realised she would never see her doll again. As the monster broke the surface, the men inside were pleased with the day's pickings.

Deep in the depths of the Atlantic ocean, all was still again. The dirty water caused by the monster's engines was beginning to clear. Muffled by the water, only one sound could be heard. The sobbing of a small child who had lost her world.

Other fine examples of work by visitors to the site can be viewed here:
[ Lynnette Toole | Paul Michael | William Leflic | Andrew Little | Martyn Prince | Desiree Massie | Felix N. Hansen | Emily Bisignano | Hatty Collingham | Chris Mazzella ]

Related Reading: A Tribute To Daniel Toole | More Paintings By Lynette Toole



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