16th November 1907, Liverpool - It was a grey day filled with drizzle that was accompanied by a mild wind as James McMahon walked into his favorite pub by the port. James was quite a tall man and needed to duck slightly as he lifted the burgundy curtains behind the pub‘s door and stepped into the establishment that was so familiar to him. He pushed his muscle-bound body through sweaty groups of men and sat down at one of the round tables by the bay window, joining some of his colleagues in the rustic tavern. The relatively young men were regulars and came together every weekday after their shifts. James felt his exhausted limbs easing as he casually sunk into the leather-upholstered bench of his favorite tavern. Finally, he was able to quietly enjoy his chilled pint of Guinness as he usually did after the long day of hard labor had passed. James prided himself on drinking Guinness and Guinness alone. James´ parents were both born in Dublin and emigrated to England as a freshly married couple in 1875 to find work. Unfortunately, they passed away during the flu epidemic of 1890 and left him an orphan after turning sixteen. James loved his parents dearly and had terrific years to look back on and remember.
He was raised catholic and was an honest man with modest expectations. He finished his training to become a carpenter some years ago, after working all kinds of part-time jobs in the different districts of Liverpool. Finally, the owner of the carpentry where he did his training, a gentleman ironically called Mr. Woods, offered James a full-time position that he more than gladly accepted a few years ago. James McMahon had built a respectable life for himself. Looking back at it in his mid-thirties, he knew that he had considered marrying once or twice but never decided to do so. That was fine. He was content with his life and profession; he had his routine and followed it year on year without ever giving it a serious second thought until today.
The wood-paneled pub was filled with cigarette smoke. The sweet-musty smell of beer and moisture floated around every corner – stemming both from the rain outside and the sweat inside. The calming sound of a hundred voices seemed to fuse into a single voice in the room. After a couple of hours of the usual conversation about work and sports, dusk raised her face while James´ attention drifted further away towards another reality. He didn’t participate in discussions with his friends and did not even realize when he was being talked to. Instead, he looked outside through the fogged windows towards the Irish sea swelling in the port. The people, smells, and sounds around him seemed to disappear, and he felt like a serene cloud of peace was settling on him as he stared out of the bay windows. His eyes drifted inexplicably towards the majestic and gigantic RMS Mauretania - floating inconspicuously in the harbor. The Mauretania was an ocean liner built for the British Cunard Line. In September, she had already been christened by the Duchess of Roxburghe, but today was supposed to be her maiden voyage. The RMS Mauretania was the most significant moving structure ever built. It had been a spectacle for months, but somehow James hadn’t had the time to participate in that enthusiasm. Sitting in his pub now, staring at the monstrous ship for what felt like an eternity, a feeling of excitement and an inward shiver ran through James. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it as he had never felt something like that before, but it was a somewhat comforting feeling; he would have even dared to describe it as a feeling. A sense of freedom and opportunity. A feeling of change.
The dull sound of two growling men falling to the ground in one package of limbs, quarreling about a football game, woke James from his daydream.
He shook his head as if to shake off the haze but shook off something else – the past, what had been the present until this very moment. Although he did not wake up to decide something this life-changing that day, his decision was already made. Still, it was done.
He stood up and fixed his friends with his emerald-green eyes somehow; they seemed significantly more alive and sober than the other eyes staring up at him. James waited until he had all of his friend's attention, who admittedly had quite a few more pints to drink than him, and proudly announced that he would be leaving. Surprised and slightly annoyed by the disruption, given the simple announcement that he was headed home, one of his somewhat intoxicated colleagues asked him what was going on. Grinning from ear to ear, James announced that he would be embarking on the RMS Mauretania at that moment and was planning to start a new life in America. Well, you couldn’t call it a plan; instead, he was going to do something.
Unable to take his words seriously given the amount of beer consumed at the table, though not by dear James that evening, the men applauded and returned to their talk.
James put some money down on the sticky table for his one pint and left, patting and squeezing the shoulders of his friends and colleagues, seeing their faces of confusion when he wouldn’t arrive tomorrow evening at the pub. He was serious about what he had declared. But unfortunately, he didn’t have the time to explain it thoroughly, without a significant discussion or missing the departure of the Mauretania. James wasn’t even sure if he could explain it to himself. But James was content. A pleasant feeling of serenity and optimism filled his whole body and soul.
Luckily it had been payday, and James already had this month’s salary in his pocket. On his way to the door, he patted his thigh to ensure it was still there. The men's voices and the pub's bold sounds lay behind him. He was filled with the sound of the future and what was to come.
As he stepped through the burgundy curtains into the dawn of Liverpool, a cotton-candy sky greeted him. He felt like this was a new beginning, and he had already become a new man. The all-encompassing horn of RMS Mauretania blasted, and it rang like music in his ears. An otherworldly sound of announcing something significant, or important. The call to be part of something historic and meaningful. The prolonged blast meant that the ship was about to depart. James made his way towards the boarding section of the port, casually looking for someone selling their ticket. You would think that he would be anxious or uneasy, he’d left it very late to find a ticket in the crowd of people boarding, but James knew he was supposed to embark on this journey, and there was not a single doubt in his mind. His mindset was indeed that of an Irishman. Everything was beautiful and settling into place - even the sky above him.
He spotted three men waving their tickets around, clearly looking to sell them in the last-minute rush. After negotiating with one of the men, he clasped his second-class ticket confidentially in his hand and got in line to embark on the majestic cruise liner for her maiden journey.
Minutes passed as a nurse checked the passengers for lice and their suitcases sporadically examined. James didn’t have a briefcase, and luckily he soon discovered he was also without lice. He traveled lightly with his newfound enthusiasm and the conscientious abilities he’d learned over the last few years. America would need good carpenters, and here James was. Heart buoyant, he enjoyed the final impressions of the city that surrounded him: Liverpool’s port that had once meant home to him.
As James stepped over the tiny gap between the steps leading from the port sidewalk onto the firm steel passage of the Mauretania, he could see the dark blue water smoothly hitting the hull of the ship. The soft-sweeping sound of the tiny waves bumping against the vast body of steel felt reassuring to James. Every soft bump was the sound of something not yet discovered. Every other spot was a memory of the past, preserved in his mind to be released by a wave of nostalgia that would surely set in in the future years to come. Everything made sense.
James was standing at the railing. Thousands of people that appeared tiny now, standing on the sidewalks down by the port, were waving, crying happy and sad tears, shouting loving last words. They were laughing - it seemed like every emotion that a person could feel was expressed at this moment - the different sounds came together as the one sound of humanity. It was enchanting.
James was able to see his pub from the ship's deck, and he thought about his friends still sitting there, technically knowing but not believing that he would be standing onboard the RMS Mauretania right now. So he was waving to them as well when the ship blasted its last long horn to announce the departure of the Mauretania to New York City.
The deck cleared after almost two hours when there were no more people to wave to, and it opened up even more when there was no more land to see. The passengers made their way down to their cabins, and so did James. He shared a cabin with another passenger who wasn’t in the room right now but had already put his luggage on one of the single beds that stood on one side of the finely decorated cabin. James freshened up by washing his face and lying in the surprisingly comfortable bed opposite his roommate. Then, he slowly drifted off to the sound of different people talking indistinctively in the hallway. It was chatter about all kinds of things – family being left behind, families that were to be reunited in the States upon arrival, and many people like him starting a new chapter of their lives. Finally, after what was probably only half an hour of light sleep, James rose and left his cabin to explore the astonishing RMS Mauretania - the wonder of the 20th century.
He traveled second-class but found the interior design of the ship astounding. Mahogany and teak paneled wood on the walls, richly structured Persian carpets on the floors, and velvet-upholstered lounge chairs were the dominating presence of the first rooms that James passed through. Soft classical music echoed off the walls as James walked further through the dozens of hallways of the Mauretania. Besides the large and pleasing dining room, he also uncovered a handsomely furnished social lounge, a ladies' parlor, and a smoking room. The grand and auxiliary staircases were made of teak wood.
After wandering through the ship, James thought that now was about time for dinner to be served and tried to locate the dining saloon. The saloon opened off the grand entrance, designed with hardwood - the room was the full ship width. Decorated with oak, the dining saloon was Georgian with carved cornice. The room's main feature, instantly catching his attention, was the sizeable octagonal opening that formed the dining saloon’s dome. He stood in amazement.
James followed the others and sat down for dinner. The conversation with the other passengers sitting next to him was pleasant and classical music, Beethoven, he guessed, was being played at the giant piano in the corner.
He was starving after this eventful day and thought the food was delicious. Breaded Escalope of Veal with Cole Slaw - an American specialty, had been served as the main course for dinner. James was full of joy, thinking about all the new dishes he would be able to discover and taste in America. After he finished his dessert and had spent almost two hours in the dining saloon, he once more made his way outside to the deck to look at the sea and the stars. It was already quite late, and most passengers went straight to their cabins or to the smoking room to enjoy a nightcap. James was almost alone on deck and sat down on a steel bench at the rear of the Mauretania.
The tinkling sounds of the orchestra on the upper deck, where the first class was being entertained, softly drifted down to him as he gazed towards the line where the moonlit horizon met the dark ocean. It was somewhat beguiling: listening to the classical notes of the orchestra with the serene sound of the sea melting together. James was still traveling, but he knew that he had already arrived at his new life. He glanced towards two striking stars and thought of his parents, proudly watching over him as he planted his feet in their footsteps.
The End