Diary of Elizabeth M. Alister

                                                                        April 11^th, 1912 3:23 a.m.

Dear Diary,

               Only days ago the Titanic set sail on her maiden voyage, with over two thousand passengers on board. I thought that I was lucky to be one of them. Now, everyone but members of the crew are sleeping in these early hours, and myself. This was a blessing, I am told. A marvel that the world would not soon forget and I am one of the few to be part of it. Somehow, in the hours of the passing nights, I have been left awake to ponder some feeling of fear or apprehension that I cannot understand. My husband was just able to afford third class on the ship, but the food and living quarters still exceed my expectations. This is our first day on the ship. We boarded from Queenstown this morning and since then we have danced and drank and mingled with countless others who feel as though they are in some sort of dream. My husband, Edward, told me just today, “My dear, we are a little piece of history, whether our names are ever brought up in the books or not, we will be able to tell all that we sailed on the Unsinkable ship.” So, why then, do I worry and for what reason. Perhaps it is because I am away from my books and my bed, in the emerald hills of Ireland. Books provide enough adventure and exploration for me: although I have dreamed of my own journey one day, it seems I have given it up long ago. I have felt homesickness before. It crowded my mind when I spent a few weeks in Manchester for a publishing deal. My familiarity with that feeling is strong enough to know that what I feel now is not homesickness. The ship creaks around me when the voices of the other passengers have silenced. No, this is not homesickness and I would soon like to get off this ship.

                                                                                                                                                April 12^th, 1912 2:54 a.m.

Dear Diary,

               Our cabin is on the F deck, with most other third class passengers. Today, my husband was permitted into the smoke room, and I sat in another section of the ship to read. We had our late night meal, although I must admit I wasn’t very hungry, and made our way to bed. The cabin is stuffy, with eight other people in our room. Although, I am extremely lucky to have gotten a room with my husband, as many other cabins are arranged by gender. There was this woman I met today, Augusta, who was moving to New York with her family. We talked for a while about the beauty of the ship and the seemingly endless ocean, but somehow she didn’t see it as endless. She could picture New York City and the crowds of people who would wave at us from the docks in awe. My imagination exceeds that of many others and yet I was not able to see our destination; only the dark blue of the unforgiving ocean. Nonetheless, she was a wonderful woman and a delight to speak to while my husband was preoccupied. The sea seemed calm today, like the air before a storm. Edward noticed I was tired and tried to reassure my troubled mind. I’m afraid there isn’t much he could say to ease my conscience, I just want to get back home and get off this ship.

                                                                                                                                                April 13^th, 1912, 1:15 a.m.

Dear Diary,

               Edward and I had a small quarrel today about my actions. He told me that this is a once and a lifetime opportunity and we will carry the memories from this ship to our deaths. I am straining my eyes to make these entries, because he tells me that we mustn’t forget one detail. It’s so dark when we turn out the lights, and I must leave the cabin to see my paper and pen. I will not forget the Titanic, but only because it already sticks in my mind like a nightmare you had as child. No one else around me seems to be aware of depth of the ocean we sail on and the darkness of those depths. Instead, they all look forward, like Edward and my acquaintance Augusta, to the shore.  I have been up night after night because something is keeping me awake when I normally feel peace. Edward’s family is in America and he has waited many long years to visit them. I too wish to see his sister, Mary, and brother in law, Charles, because they have become so different after becoming accustomed to American life. Maybe it is time to fight my instincts and enjoy my time here on this ship.

                                                                                                                                                April 19^th, 1912 3:10 a.m.

Dear Diary,

               The Titanic, the unsinkable ship, has sunk and my dear Edward has gone with it. I’m sure you can’t imagine my panic, pure and overwhelming fear, as I was walking back to the cabin with Edward, around quarter to eleven on the night of the fourteenth and we felt the lurch of the ship as it hit the iceberg. It is not all you would think it was, in fact, there were some who had no clue that anything had even happened. We gathered what we could, but cabins were locked and we were being ushered to the lifeboats. There were people screaming and running everywhere and panic on everyone’s faces. At some point, Edward’s hand slipped out of mine and I was pushed onto the deck. He was still below, where icy water poured in. I already searched for Augusta, or anyone in her family, but it seems they too have perished. It’s unclear whether they were trapped down there or locked in or just happened to be closest to the damage, but from what I can understand they must have drowned together, maybe even before midnight. I was put on a lifeboat with other women and children, some men clawing to get through were pushed back from the boats. Some people jumped right off the side of the boat as it began to tilt and my lifeboat was jammed full. I wept all the while, seeing the lights on the ship blurry, then flicker out and only the silhouette of the Titanic remain against the stars in the night sky. It was hours before the ship Carpathia had found us, but I felt as numb as those who still remain in the hallways of the ship. We arrived in New York and I can’t tell you the expression on Mary’s face as I walked up to her without her brother. No one knew who had lived and died. Now I have made it to New York and lay safely in a warm bed and yet I cannot sleep. I close my eyes and see my Edward, trapped in the dark depths of the ocean, with hundreds of others floating around. A graveyard that no one can get to and people that had years of their life left to live. Dreams of the future frozen in time at the bottom of the ocean. No longer can I sleep in peace when I feel the same every night as I did laying in the Titanic, unknowingly spending my last days with Edward. He will never be able to get off that ship.