My name is Patrick Kowner the second. My father’s name was also Patrick and my mother’s name is Siobhan. As a young lad, I wanted to feel the grasp of money and to always have money in my short and empty pockets. This is why I took the opportunity to go to America. The only way to get myself to America was by ship. I am a poor Irishman who can only afford to get anything by stealing. I am known by the names of PM or Patrick mugger or “mugtrick”.
A young man, wearing a fine fitted suit, with blonde and silky hair with white dazzling skin was strolling on our dusty and old street in the most graceful and elegant ways. The sun had never grinned at our road. It had always punished the street with its aching and unforgivable heat.
As I went to see what valuables he had in his wide pockets, I saw that he dropped an envelope of some sort. I went to tell him; however, I waited and thought for a second...
I had thought to myself that maybe on the floor was a cheque or an envelope full of money so I waited as he passed and then I swooped down to the floor like an eagle and took the envelope. Feeling relieved I opened it...
As I felt its rough texture on the palm of my dirty hands, I gasped in shock to find... A piece of paper? I read it and I saw my dream had finally come true: this piece of paper told my destiny; that piece of paper was none other than a ticket for America! I could finally travel to America in style by ship!!! When I read the name of the ship I gasped in amazement. It read: “Titanic, the Unsinkable Ship”. My heart was pumping like an athlete winning a gold medal, I had never been happier in my life! As I read the date and time of the ship I was devastated: the ship was going to leave in thirty minutes!?! I ran as fast as my skinny legs could carry me to the harbour. My heart was pumping faster than that of a cheetah hunting for its prey.
However, my heart was also split in two as I was disheartened and disappointed because I could not say farewell to my father or my mother and I might not see them again. On the other hand, my heart was consoled by the fact that America presented a bounty of opportunities for me; I melted at the thought of those glorious notes filling my empty pockets.
As I ran to the harbour, I kept thinking of money, like a banker drawling over gold. I reached the entrance of the harbour; I could smell potent perfumes gracing the air. As I looked around me, I saw crowds and crowds of people covering the harbour like a winter’s morning that had covered the roads with thick, smooth and dazzling snow.
I could taste the sweetness of excitement at the tip of my tongue; I looked up to see the ship, the biggest and boldest ship I had ever seen. I knew then why they called it the Titanic. The black wolf stood in all of its might to show to its enemies how bold and courageous it truly was.... The beast had shone up like a new, crafted bronze penny.
I blinked a few times and I saw a line longer than the ship itself; I was not patient enough to find out what this line was for. A few minutes later I saw a man with a very long beard walking to the entrance from the front of the harbour swearing. I asked him: “Whatever is the matter?” He shouted back at me, “This line is for lice, if you have lice then you are not allowed on the ship and they take your ticket with no refund.” I was shocked and immediately I stepped back three steps from the man ahead of me, who had more hair than an afro, so I wouldn’t catch anything. I was praying, praying that I would not have lice or anything that could jeopardise or, ruin my chance to get on this wonder of a ship. As I waited patiently for my turn, I saw rich men and women enter the “Wonder Ship” with two stunning white dogs on a hundred dollar lead without passing the lice inspection. They were loading up their fast and bold Rolls Royce and taking wardrobes full of clothes the size of a mansion. It was horrible; they looked upon us like a disease waiting to infect the ship. I was the last man in lice check. A man ran a small and sharp comb down my hair. As I stare at the comb frown at me it’s cold, sharp teeth grazed against my scalp like running a hot metal bar down a piece of wood. As he put his thumbs up, I was relieved. As I walked up the stair, I realised what had awaited me: a long, hard and perilous journey for my freedom from the life of a poor man...
I looked from the bars on the black and courageous bear while he howled as loud as a trumpet’s blow. As the propellers attacked the water, I launched my hand into the air with a loud cheer and a big “Goodbye” and left the wolf to take me on the journey of a lifetime...
As I put my hardened and worn out feet onto the palace of a ship, I saw a small, wooden staircase which led down to my shack hole; I call it this because even on the Titanic, the ship of all ships, there would always be third class people to put in the lowest of all accommodation.
However, if you remember, I had stolen my ticket from that rich guy, so I could get into the glorious and everlasting first class. So as I walked to the stairs of the rich people, I saw a big and bulky bodyguard, his muscles were the size of two humongous balls; this had feared me, I hoped I would pass him. I said boldly to the bulky bodyguard, “You may call me Sir Patrick of eh... m... Ireland? Please get out of the way”.
As he heard the very words coming out of my mouth, he started to laugh as loud as a lion’s roar. “HA HA mate, that’s the first time I heard that the Sir of Ireland dresses like a mugger. Now shall I escort you to your room, oh yes, I will take that ticket and give you this one, WORTHY THIRD CLASS TICKET.”
Well, like most things in my life, it failed so I gave him a ticket to heaven and he gave me a ticket to hell. As I walked down wooden unpainted stairs, downhearted, I saw my room, No. 29. As I entered I saw that three Polish men already unpacked, as I tried to ignore their “baffling” language I just laid myself on the bed thinking,
“Do I deserve this excuse of a life?”
One of the Poles was bald, the other incredibly fat and the third hairy. The walls were covered in half painted colours with the smell of grease in the thick air while the taste of gas had been lurking throughout the thick, ice-cold air.
As I had woken up from realising I had fallen asleep from that lie down, I walked out of our “bedroom” and looked at the time: six-thirty! I was late for my grub!
Imagine the spoils of the food, the mouth watering Irish lamb stew or maybe thick slices of corned beef and freshly boiled cabbage. As I ran towards the canteen I found none other than... Potato stew? Oh yes, I’m sorry I forgot what they do to third class people. Yes, but imagine the party us third classers are going to have: just me, Guinness, Irish folks and last but not least the sound of the drums and bagpipes singing in my heart. As I dug into my potato stew; I just couldn’t wait until the evening...
While I was eating the potato stew, which had all the qualities of a roast dinner, it had come to my attention to see a young man with a fine fitted suit was walking in our lifeless, unpainted canteen. As I looked at his face for a few seconds, I had scanned his face and it was that rich guy that I had stole my ticket from! As I laughed out loud for a second he stared at me for a few seconds and sat next to me. His stare was like a fierce black wolf staring at his prey, waiting for a moment to unleash his sharp canines into the neck of his prey...
As he looked at me, he said, “Hey! My name is Harry Nickel but that’s my ‘posh’ name I like people to call me Haz, you see, it is quite stupid really but I hate being set to be like a robot but to have my freedom just like a fine gentleman like you...”
I snapped quickly replying, “My name is Patrick and I live under a tree.” The moment he heard it, he laughed louder than a trombone’s blow.
“So... How do you get around in life, Patrick, or do you feed the trees?”
“HAHA funny guy I just have to beg for a living, the type of guy you would hate.”
“I wouldn’t care... To be honest, I would prefer someone like you for a friend”
“Why?!?”
“Because I like fun, hey, what are you doing tonight?”
“I was thinking of showing my moves on the dance floor but...”
“Nice! Can I join?”
For some reason I had agreed but I was looking forward for tonight...
Ten o’ clock... For once in my life, I predicted correctly: I, Patrick Kowner and Haz Nickel, probably the best Irish dancers you could ever watch. My left foot is a Rolls Royce travelling at all its greatest speeds... While my right foot is a Bentley travelling with great cautiousness... My new friend was on fire! He had more skills than a circus trained elephant! We were filled with ice cold Guinness, we said our goodbyes and promised to meet each other at ten o’ clock by the third class rails.
I headed off for a place I like to call home. Now my house is not really a house but my dreams as they bring me the most exciting adventures an Irishman could afford. So I rested my head on the titanium plated pillow and fell asleep. In the middle of the night, the bald Polish guy started snoring. His snore was like a pig snort but louder: I, unlike many Irishmen, am very sensitive when I sleep, even if a pin dropped, I would hear it and wake up.
Now this was a problem...
Usually for me, an unfortunate guy, I had to earn my sleep somewhere like under an odour filled bridge or, next to a pregnant cow or even under a thick and wet tree, but that would had been better than sleeping next to this broken musical instrument!!!!
As I walked up the stairs, half dead at eight o’ clock on the fourteenth of April, I felt my head pounding like a wild, energetic stampede with thousands of rhinos occurring while I try to think. As I sat down in the lifeless canteen and awaited my fate, I saw a beautiful, mouth-watering, juice filled young smoked herring, and its colours polished my tongue. As my tongue had prepared itself for a meal of a life time, I just watched the last one being taken by that Polish guy. As my heart was filled with anger and envy, I just stood up and got to the back of the queue, to wait again!
Usually, I would join the joyful, Irish party but today, I wanted to feel the cold and ice filled breeze skim the back of my neck with Haz as we relaxed and placed our thoughts in the middle of the darkened, black sky.
At 9:40 pm I walked to the deck area and rested my tired back from walking on a hard wooden bench near the third class rails. I could just picture myself between those stars with the names: “Sir. Patrick Kowner the Rich”; or “Patrick Kowner the wise and wealthy”; or even “Patrick Kowner, I wish I was like that guy”. But I knew that would never happen. After a few minutes, Haz came and we discussed our life problems. It seemed to me that being rich is not all that it seemed. He said he would show me the first class area. The moment my weary heart heard this, it began to beat faster than a speeding Aston Martin.
The moment my weary legs touched the smooth and carpentered floor, I felt like I was as worthy as the king himself. As I gazed at the wonderful paintings by Picasso, I heard the calming sound of the violin. My heart felt at home- for once. As I smelt the cooked lamb with mint sauce, my tongue went number than when I saw that lazy herring. This was the time of my life. I couldn’t believe what was going on so I just pulled out a flask containing my life’s syrup just for me to stop dreaming and started to drink it when...
BANG, a strong bang hit my ear like an earthquake had occurred on the middle of the wonder ship. I had also felt the cold and unforgivable air hit which shacked my feet yonder. The moment the flask touched my lips, it flew to the middle of the ocean. But more importantly, something had happened, my heart pounded like an elephant was stomping on the earthly ground. As I asked Haz in order for my dexterous mind to find an explanation, he replied to me with shock and no answer so we decided to seek for one so he took me outside until we heard a lady scream...
As we walked up to her and asked her, “Whatever is the matter?” she replied to us in a fierce and angry tone, “Those fool... They don’t even know how to drive, they should have got a true Irish-man to do it, that way we wouldn’t be sinking-” “Sinking! How do you know!?!” “Because the water is flooding all those poor slaves that have to put coal in the engines- THAT’S HOW I KNOW!” The ocean waves gnashed its teeth at us in anger and hatred, in addition the sound of horror invaded the earth. When we replied, a thought had forged into our minds: if we were to survive, how would we do it? Then being the clever people we were we thought of a plan and this was it:
We would wait for a couple of minutes until the ship was packed full of people on the deck and I would go to Haz’s wardrobe and change my clothes, identity and life. This way I would be able to get on a boat with Haz out of this ghost ship.
So I waited for a few minutes and as we predicted, the ship was packed with screaming people waiting to get off the ghost ship. Then I marked my move, jumping the rails and by chance I saw a coat and a top hat lying on a bronze bench. As I fitted them on my weary and skinny body, I licked my finger and whipped my eyebrows and my goatee. And then spat out the spit that was stuck in my throat and walked calmly.
My identity was the Duke of London’s cousin who hopefully wasn’t on this ship. As I smiled to Harry our relationship grew stronger and we pushed our way through the ship. I could hear people sounding like lions roaring and fighting for their prey. I could smell the smell of hatred and death whatever that would smell like. I could see people turning against each other for a place on the life boats. But however, for some reason that just didn’t bother me. We walked and pushed all who got in our way without trouble. The ship shacked from side to side like a wrecked rollercoaster...
As I put my tired and cold feet on the boat with my mate, I looked at the three Polish guys and they looked back at me revealing that I was that Irishman that lived with them.
I had never thought or known that the Titanic, “the unsinkable ship” would float head first upon the waves like a seal balancing on a multi-coloured ball. As I heard the person next to me talk despicably about my fellow Irish people in. I had realised that my fellow comrades were floating in the middle of nowhere. I remembered the good times I had shared with them, and then, I realised I was being selfish and felt guilty and ashamed. Then I looked up into the sky, and shone down like the eyes of my lost countrymen. “That Patrick used to be my mate and he abandoned me to live a life of glory without his friends...”; “He is so selfish, I should never have befriended him”, I said to myself and gave myself a life changing question,
“Am I going to be a fake, unworthy first classer or am I going to have and feel pride throughout my bones to say I am and will always be a third classer?”
As the boat stopped waiting for my reply, I went with my gut, my heart and my mind and turned next to that elegant lady and spat in her snooty face while Haz started to laugh. I screamed to all of them the following words, “You may be rich and have all the luxuries but while you rest in your thousand dollar car with your life-changing and ornamental wife, we Irish have to sleep on the dusty and dirty roads, saving our friends from danger and misery so helping our families to survive away from our country distress. We are all alike but from one thing only, we are passionate and not clockwork toys that can be wound up by all.” As I waved my true Irish goodbye, I took off my coat and top hat and threw them at them. I jumped courageously and bravely into the icy water. The moment I threw myself into the water, I felt like a thousand daggers had stabbed me in every part of my weak body. Nevertheless I swam a good 5 meters to help my comrades not fall from death...
The water was strangling me with its frozen and lifeless hands.
I did not realise but my friend Harry was too in the water saving other people; he must have felt guilty or worried about me...
My body was about to give up hope from the icy and shivering water; my legs felt as heavy as if a hard struck whip slashed them off. I felt like I was going to sink until someone pushed me onto a big warm plank.
As I looked around, it was Harry!
“PPatrick...”
As I smiled in happiness, I said to him
“Haaaaaarrrry, I havvvve a confession to makeeeee, I hadddd stolen yourrrrrr tttttticket.....”
“DDDon’t ttthinnnkk aboouuutttt itttt mmmyyy frrieeenndd, we had a goooooood ttttimmmme ddiddnn’tttt weee?” he answered. “Yeessss, iiitttt wasss theee time of mmyyy life Good luck myyyyyy ffffrieeend...”I said trembling.
He tapped me on the back and I felt like something had slipped into my pockets. I felt dreary; I was in apprehension to feel what death really felt like but suddenly my body had stopped that from happening. Looking around me, I saw no survivors except Harry who was also on a plank and after that I felt into a deep trance....
I woke up from my trance and found a boat with a huge light shining from a distance. I tapped Harry but he would not respond as I checked his pulse: he had passed away. I had lost the only man who ever accepted me for who I was.
I was so upset crying with ice cold tears. He was the only person to have accepted me for what I was – a simple man, trying to better himself. But I couldn’t die as well so I shouted as loudly as I could but my lungs were weak, weak enough just to shout louder than an injured mouse. I could not find a solution. So I banged on my plank as hard as I could and fell back...
I woke up hoping I was in the afterlife until I saw a beautiful, young lady checking my temperature, as I believed. For once, the sun smiled showed its sparkling teeth at me I knew I was in heaven; she poured a glass of warm water over my head. “Mmm... Miss where am I? And what are you ddddoing?” “Please sir, you are very lucky to be alive, you had d a high fever and very strong flu, and I will take care of you and help you battle your fever.” It crossed my mind that I was definitely not in the afterlife but in my own life.
As I looked in my empty pocket, I found a note: it was from Haz! It had said:
“Patrick my fellow friend, my end is near and I know you shall survive so I would like you to take my identity and invest through it and fulfil your dream. Hopefully you shall be richer than you need to be but promise me one thing. You shall remember me more than a friend, more that a dance buddy but a brother, from another family...”
Knowing we were likely to die he must have written this before we escaped from the ship and slipped it into my small pocket.
As I remembered his pointless and stupid jokes, I started to cry. I remembered his kind face and continued to weep.
I then realised the treatment we as were subjected to was unfair, I mean to say, that the only difference between us third classers and the first classers is all about money. Giving my life to thought and care for others, I had finally realised that people know me for my good deeds not for my money; for who I am, not how much is in my large and full pockets. I now own a youth hostel called Harry Nickel’s family...
The End...