April 10, 1912.

Captain Smith stood on the bridge of the great liner Titanic, his hands behind his back. Every so often, the sound of the ship's great horn reverberated around the room as she urged all her crew and passengers aboard. Smith checked his watch: 10:30am. Most of the boat trains would be arriving by now, and then the great influx of 1st, 2nd, and steerage passengers would begin. Most of the crew would already be aboard, settling in, except for any few stragglers.

"Everything all right, sir?" Murdoch stood behind his captain. Smith turned to him and smiled.

"It's a fine day to be setting out, Mr Murdoch. How are the crew settling in?"

"Most are beginning to find their feet, sir, though there are still a few getting lost here and there."

"Well, that's understandable, given the ship's size. Very well, Mr Murdoch, you have the bridge. I'd better go and see if our guests have started to arrive yet."

"Very good, Sir."

Smith left the bridge, pausing to look out of one of the portholes. The sight below was something to behold - hundreds of bags being raised up on pulleys into the hold, crowds lining the streets to witness the sailing of the great liner. Captain Smith was used to maiden voyages, but he reflected that this was something else entirely. There had been teething issues with the ship - there always were - but she was seaworthy enough, and Smith had chosen the safest of the routes to America for this time of year. He couldn't see any foreseeable danger.

*just moving the story on. Time we got out of dock!*

April 10, 1912. Noon.

The great steamer let out a final blast as the deadline approached. Captain Smith stood on the deck of the Wheelhouse, watching the scene out of the large portholes, as Titanic finally slipped her leash. The crowds thronging the quayside roared their approval as Titanic gradually began to move. Suddenly, there was consternation in the Wheelhouse. Smith leaned forward as he realised what was happening.

"Bring over to starboard! Gently now!"

Smith could do nothing but watch as Titanic's bow wave caused the mooring lines of the closely-moored ship, S.S New York, to snap, one by one. As the last mooring line failed, the second line drifted closer to Tatanic. Smith rattle off orders to the helmsman, who did his best to keep up. Smith watched grimly as the grey metal of the oncoming ship came closer, and closer, then breathed a sigh of relief as he saw tugboats racing to reclaim the runaway vessel. Disaster averted, he turned to Murdoch.

"A bad omen, Murdoch?"

"I don't believe in them, sir."

"No, I don't believe you do. Very well, then. Let us hope that is the last piece of adventure we shall have on this ship. We shall see how she travels on her first leg, then. On to Cherbourg, Mr Murdoch. Steady as she goes."

*getting to a point for new characters to join in convo mode. Come on, people, we need players!! Anyone who wishes to join in and disembark at Queenstown to avoid the disaster had better hurry up! Smith's on a walkabout now, so anyone who wishes to make their first post and talk to the captain is very welcome to....*

April 10, 1pm. The ship was well underway now. It was only 70 miles to Cherbourg, a small harbour on the Isle of Wight. A few more passengers were due to embark here, but most had already boarded at Southampton. Really, Cherbourg was just a little test before the longer journey to Queenstown, and then on, to her main test of the open water. Smith was unconcerned about this little run to Cherbourg, and had decided to leave everything in Murdoch's capable hands. He strolled along the first class promenade deck, greeting the first class passengers warmly, familiarising himself with the layout of the ship. He carried on his tour of the ship, greeting passengers and crew alike.