Going Down in History

Francis Browne entered the First-Class Dining Saloon on 'D' deck. A stringed quintet softly played "The Blue Danube Waltz" while passengers dined on the sumptuous fares of the upper class. He strolled happily to his table, greeting fellow diners along the way. Many of these who smiled and nodded "welcomes" had gladly posed for photographs on the Promenade Deck, requesting a tintype copy at his convenience. He still marveled that his uncle had given him a first-class ticket. Of course, the ticket price paled in comparison to the $20,000 investment his uncle had made in the White Star Line, specifically for this floating wonder. His Jesuit training and priestly pursuits would never provide such extravagance; dining with lawyers, bankers, and railroad magnates thrust him into a world truly not his own.

"Welcome, Mr. Browne," a server greeted, pulling out a chair for Francis to be seated. Francis flashed a smile at those who sat at his table, and greeted the one nearest with a hearty handshake.

"Mr. Browne, I saw you toting your camera into the gymnasium. Still taking pictures, eh?" questioned Mr. Cantwell.

"Yes, sir," he responded, placing a napkin on his lap, inhaling the aromatic soup placed in front of him.

"You must have quite an interest in photography, Mr. Browne," Mrs. Jennings commented, surveying the food placed before her. “I notice you taking pictures all around the ship.”

"Yes, Ma'am that's correct. Next to God, photography is my passion. My uncle bought me a camera several years ago and I've been documenting my experiences ever since.” Francis sipped water from a crystal glass and nibbled on a piece of bread before continuing. "My uncle surprised me with a ticket to board this beautiful vessel. I could hardly wait to photograph a ship whose destiny will go down in the annals of history. This floating wonder must be classified as one of the world's man-made wonders!"

Mr. Jennings motioned for a server to top off his glass. "Father Browne..."

"Maybe a Father of the Order someday, but not yet," Francis corrected with a smile. "Please, call me Francis."

"Francis," Mr. Jennings continued, "Where did you board this luxury steamer?"

"I boarded at Southampton and will disembark at Cork. My studies in Dublin beckon."

"I see," Mr. Jennings responded, glancing at his wife. He signaled for a waiter to top off his wife's glass and dabbed the corners of his mouth. "Mrs. Jennings and I wonder if you would be willing to put your studies on hold for a time. Maybe a few weeks?”

"For what reason?" Francis inquired, surprised by the question.

"We want to extend an invitation for you to come to America. Mrs. Jennings and I are celebrating our 25th anniversary and our wish is to hire you to be our photographer for the remainder of our trip. We will pay for your return passage and a stipend for your trouble. Would you have any interest in this offer?" Mr. Jennings asked.

Francis responded silently, a hint of a smile forming on his face. Francis reached into his coat pocket and extracted a little black notebook. He thumbed through the pages and checked for conflicts. He found nothing so pressing in nature that he couldn’t extend his travel before engaging in further theological endeavors.

"Francis, consider the following," Mr. Jennings pressed on. "You will be able to take pictures of this maiden voyage start to finish. As we enter New York Harbor you can photograph Lady Liberty. That, sir, will be a moment you will never forget."

"I am intrigued by the opportunity," Francis nodded, “and my schedule appears to be clear. However, I answer to my Jesuit Superior. I must send a telegram to Dublin requesting his approval. If denied, I disembark in the morning." Francis pushed from the table and stood to depart. "If you will excuse me, I will send a cable at once. I will let you know the Superior's decision as soon as I have word."

Mr. Jennings rose and shook Francis' hand. "My wife and I hope to be blessed with your company.” ____________________________________________________

The next morning, swarms of people milled around the dock at Cork. Young and old desired to see the largest passenger steamship in the world. The Jennings' stood along the rail of the great ship and Francis waved his goodbyes from the pier. Though disappointed, Francis obediently respected the command of his Superior. The urgency of the reply still puzzled Francis. "GET OFF THAT SHIP- PROVINCIAL", seemed almost a desperate plea. With camera in position, a loud popping flash signaled another memory captured. As he packed up his camera, the ship's three-bell whistle warned of departure. Last minute passengers hugged and kissed their loved ones and dashed up the ramp to the 3rd class gangway entrance. "Maybe someday I'll see Lady Liberty," thought Francis. He turned to hail a taxi.

The RMS Titanic proudly steamed from port, never to be photographed again.