29th April
"So, what you are trying to say is that, you actually were there when it happened? Is that what you are saying Mr. Grant?"
Mr. Grant was lying on the couch. It was Saturday afternoon. He always showed up then, to talk about his problems.
"Yes. I sense derision, Mark. And I get it, it is difficult to accept something like this. I don't even want you trust me. Just listen. I pay for my time, don't I?"
It had been the same story for 3 weeks. Mr. Grant would show up and talk for an hour. He would then leave. His story would never really change much. It would just go on for a bit. Mr. Grant was starting now and Mark was getting ready to be paid for feigning interest.
"I am holed up in my room on the ship. It sways ever so slightly. I am sick. I am looking at the calendar. I have eaten something bad or maybe I was never made for the sea. I hear the sounds and the smells waft in. It is the Lusitania. Doomed to a watery grave. The fabled South Hampton to New York route. It is the 7th of May, 1915. And then I wake up. I have never known what time it was but my guess would be noon. Any thoughts today?"
Mark had thoughts though they did not concern Mr. Grant's story. They were about mortgages, the secretary's blouse, his fiance, a sandwich at the cafe and his mother's recent death.
So, he said, "Hey Mr. Grant as long as you pay for your own time I have no problem. You have a good one. See you next Saturday."
Mr. Grant thanked him and left. Mark continued work.
Next Saturday noon, the couch was empty. Mr. Grant did not show up. Mark had time to kill. He went out for a drink.
The bar had no one except the bartender. The mortgage and his dead mother were weighing heavily on his mind. He was tired of seeking happiness in lies to his fiance and self-medication. So, he drank. An hour later, he was sufficiently drunk to drown out the world but not enough to lost interest in it. A photo did catch his attention.
He easily identified Mr. Grant in the photo. He asked the bartender about the photo.
"Yeah, that was my great grandpa. He died in that ship thing that happened in the great war. The Lusitania. German bastards sank it."
He rushed back to his office. The couch was definitely empty. He checked his drawers. The money was there.
Mr. Grant had, after all, paid for his own time. It was a good thing that Mark was drunk.
--
1st of May 1915, the RMS Lusitania left New York heading for South Hampton carrying 1,965 passengers and crew ( the majority being American citizens). 7th of May she had been making good time on her run, and while off the coast of Ireland, a German U-boat spotted her, lined her up in their sights and fired a torpedo. The torpedo wasn't spotted til it was almost upon the ship.
The torpedo hit the Lusitania making a large hole in her starboard side. Water began rushing into the 1st and 2nd boiler rooms. The ship was then rocked by a 2nd explosion.
The Lusitania took a mere 20 minutes to sink taking 1,201 people with her -- only 764 survived.
"So, what you are trying to say is that, you actually were there when it happened? Is that what you are saying Mr. Grant?"
Mr. Grant was lying on the couch. It was Saturday afternoon. He always showed up then, to talk about his problems.
"Yes. I sense derision, Mark. And I get it, it is difficult to accept something like this. I don't even want you trust me. Just listen. I pay for my time, don't I?"
It had been the same story for 3 weeks. Mr. Grant would show up and talk for an hour. He would then leave. His story would never really change much. It would just go on for a bit. Mr. Grant was starting now and Mark was getting ready to be paid for feigning interest.
"I am holed up in my room on the ship. It sways ever so slightly. I am sick. I am looking at the calendar. I have eaten something bad or maybe I was never made for the sea. I hear the sounds and the smells waft in. It is the Lusitania. Doomed to a watery grave. The fabled South Hampton to New York route. It is the 7th of May, 1915. And then I wake up. I have never known what time it was but my guess would be noon. Any thoughts today?"
Mark had thoughts though they did not concern Mr. Grant's story. They were about mortgages, the secretary's blouse, his fiance, a sandwich at the cafe and his mother's recent death.
So, he said, "Hey Mr. Grant as long as you pay for your own time I have no problem. You have a good one. See you next Saturday."
Mr. Grant thanked him and left. Mark continued work.
Next Saturday noon, the couch was empty. Mr. Grant did not show up. Mark had time to kill. He went out for a drink.
The bar had no one except the bartender. The mortgage and his dead mother were weighing heavily on his mind. He was tired of seeking happiness in lies to his fiance and self-medication. So, he drank. An hour later, he was sufficiently drunk to drown out the world but not enough to lost interest in it. A photo did catch his attention.
He easily identified Mr. Grant in the photo. He asked the bartender about the photo.
"Yeah, that was my great grandpa. He died in that ship thing that happened in the great war. The Lusitania. German bastards sank it."
He rushed back to his office. The couch was definitely empty. He checked his drawers. The money was there.
Mr. Grant had, after all, paid for his own time. It was a good thing that Mark was drunk.
--
1st of May 1915, the RMS Lusitania left New York heading for South Hampton carrying 1,965 passengers and crew ( the majority being American citizens). 7th of May she had been making good time on her run, and while off the coast of Ireland, a German U-boat spotted her, lined her up in their sights and fired a torpedo. The torpedo wasn't spotted til it was almost upon the ship.
The torpedo hit the Lusitania making a large hole in her starboard side. Water began rushing into the 1st and 2nd boiler rooms. The ship was then rocked by a 2nd explosion.
The Lusitania took a mere 20 minutes to sink taking 1,201 people with her -- only 764 survived.
