See, not only was the ship touted as unsinkable, it was also praised for its renowned speed and engineering greatness.
Capable of covering massive nautical miles, it had sped into the icy waters of the Arctic.
Smashing through thin sheets of ice and freezing waters.
Like all good and over-hyped things, pride was the beginning of its downfall.
The ship had collided with an iceberg that hid its main part beneath the waters, and so the sailors felt confident smashing through it as they sped on in their wonderful journey.
The iceberg had the last laugh. Tearing through the aluminium hull like a hot knife through butter, it left a gaping hole through which the waters were more than happy to flow.
Quentin obviously had no idea of this. The engineers down below knew something had gone painfully wrong.
Perhaps to avoid unnecessary panic among the passengers, the captain chose not to announce the news to his travellers.
They planned to execute a few defensive manoeuvres.
They would shut down the damaged parts of the hull and continue to sail, aiming to reach the closest port without jeopardising their reputation.
Quentin noticed the slight change again in Rose's demeanour. 'Did I do something wrong?'
"Listen to me, Quent; we do not have much time any longer." She said standing up.
The slight change Quentin thought he noticed was wrong. Rose had a well of tears building up behind her beautiful eyes.
"Hey, hey… you good?"
He asked, standing and cradling her shoulders in enveloped compassion.
Rose fell into him, embracing him, her supple bosoms pressing into his sturdy chest.
The sudden display of affection momentarily stunned him, but he didn't care.
"You're okay. You're okay. Let's get you some water."
Rose lingered in his arms for a bit before stepping back.
She looked him in the eye, and he looked her in hers.
The unusual couple held each other in their gaze. Staring deep into their souls.
Then she leaned into him with what had to be the best kiss of his life. Fireworks went off in his head as his heart leaped for joy.
Quentin wanted nothing more from life. He only cared about this. This moment, where he was one with this mysterious girl named Rose.
He felt it—a surge of energy that seemed to come from Rose and settle deep inside him.
With that, she withdrew, leaving him with an aching desire for more.
"I'll always love you, my gorgeous Quent. In this lifetime or another, never forget that."
Rose sidestepped him, opened the door, and departed.
In the history of Quentin, never has a girl left him dumbfounded. He was the player, the one with the honey lips that left women of all ages swooning.
Yet this girl whom he literally just met had taken him on a trip of a lifetime.
He turned to follow her back up to Deck 1, but as he peeked out of his room, he discovered that she had pulled off her usual disappearing act.
A couple crew members were scampering in hurried steps.
Quentin sighed, went back into his room, and plopped unto his bed in frustration.
This was unlike him; why did his heart ache for a lady he'd just met? He asked himself.
The ship suddenly lurched, as if it had swerved away from something.
Outside, he heard a couple of screams, and curiosity took hold of him as he went out to investigate; something was wrong.
He grabbed one of the crew members before he could turn down the engineering wing.
The mania in his eye made Quentin's skin crawl.
"As you know, I am one of the soldiers chosen by the king, and I demand to know what's going on."
The man shrugged Quentin's hands off his shoulders.
"Tuah…" He spat a loogie on the floor, missing Quentin's foot by a fraction.
"To hell with the king and his consorts."
And with that, he disappeared down the wing.
Quentin watched him descend but decided to continue further, towards the upper deck.
When he got up, he was surprised to see the first class were still having the time of their lives.
'Is the ship so big that they didn't feel anything?'
In fact, they were now enjoying a little ball, with the instrumentalist playing a lively jive.
Quentin manoeuvred his way between a couple of dancers, his eyes darting from side to side.
He finally located Andrew, and with a courteous nod to the lady he was trying to woo, he dragged him aside.
"What the hell, man??"
"Where's Rose?"
"Who the heck is Rose? I don't know if you noticed, but I'm busy, man."
Quentin briefly considered abandoning this bothersome man and keeping him in the dark about everything that was happening, but ultimately decided against it.
"Y'all didn't feel anything up here?"
Andrew's face cocked slightly in confusion.
"Feel what? Don't mess with me, bro; I didn't come on this trip with my swimming trunk."
"There's something deathly wrong. I attempted to consult an engineer downstairs, and the response I received was shocking. 'To hell with the King'"
Andrew couldn't believe what he'd just heard.
"That's an automatic death sentence. Where's the scallywag at?"
"Exactly what I thought when he said that... but the look in that man's eye was off one that had lost every hope of living."
Just then, a violent jolt struck the ship once more, causing the plates in the halls to clatter to the floor and the dancers to stumble over each other.
The captain's voice crackled over the intercom, calm but firm.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we are experiencing some rough weather. Please remain indoors. We'll be navigating through it shortly."
But those on the top decks, peering out into the distance, could see the truth. There was barely a breeze in sight; talk more of rough weather.
What the hell was going on for the captain to lie so nonchalantly?
Just then someone pointed down to the waters below.
The waters were pitch black, but the lights of the ship were enough to illuminate what was going on.
What Quentin saw blew his mind.
There was a boat being lowered down from the side of the ship, and who else was there but the captain?
Chaos erupted as the news spread like wildfire.
The captain had abandoned his ship.
It felt like he was in some kind of twisted dark comedy movie, but Quentin knew it was no film.
He wasn't well versed in nautical knowledge, but he was pretty sure there was a saying among sailors.
'A captain always goes down with his ship.'
But right there was the captain of his ship ducking his head in shame as his boat sped away.
Another voice came up through the intercom, urging passengers to remain calm and swearing that nothing was going on.
Even if it was going to work, the deafening boom that echoed through the ship cemented the hysteria.
Rich fat men pushed their mistresses aside as they scampered around looking for the nearest refuge or even some explanations.
"There they are! The king's guard. They'd know what is going on."
Quentin and Andrew spun to see a mob of people with questions neither of them could answer, and doing what they knew they should, they turned and ran.
"Have you seen Rose? The girl I swore was a demon?" Quentin asked as he ran.
"No. When dinner ended and the dance started, I lost sight of her."
As the two young soldiers dashed down the stairs, Quentin began stripping off his apparel; after losing his camouflage jacket, he stopped running.
"Go to the engineering wing and figure out what's wrong. I'm going back up for her."
With that, he turned back and hurried up the path he had come.