The Titanic Enigma

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When the call came to get him to the bridge to begin his shift, Captain John Curtis was enjoying a very pleasant dream. As he opened his eyes and stared at the metal bulkhead above his bunk, he felt about ninety-five years old and told himself, for perhaps the fiftieth time, he would definitely take early retirement… just as soon as he got back home.

He pulled on his fleece and hat, yanked open the door to the cabin and hauled himself onto the deck of the Ottawa Dawn. It was a stunning morning — a clear, cloudless sky, a pinch of cold in the air, the ocean as still as a cup of coffee. They were steaming towards Newfoundland at their top speed of twenty-seven knots, anxious to get to shore with their catch of North Atlantic cod. Curtis ascended the metal ladder to the bridge, leaned on the handle and stepped inside. His first mate, Tony Saunders, was alone at the helm. Curtis said ‘Hi’ and then started rummaging around in a cupboard, removing charts and instruments.

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