On April 15th, 1912 the luxury ocean liner Titanic struck an iceberg in the northern Atlantic and began to sink. In the final hours before the ocean claimed the great ship, Captain Edward John Smith summoned his first mate, Wensel Stevens, to the bridge with urgent orders.
Captain, is it true? Have we really struck berged ice?
I'm afraid so, Stevens. I fear our ship shall not see another voyage.
But how, she was thought to be unsinkable?!
The arrogance of man knows no bounds. But that is a matter for the philosophers, Stevens. We are men of action, are we not?
I have an important assignment for you, Stevens. One that only you can be entrusted to carry out.
Shall I muster the lifeboat crews? Shall I order the engine's halted? Shall I
You must make your way to steerage and lock the Irish in.
Damn it, man! You must make your way to steerage and lock the Irish belowdecks! What is so hard to understand?!
It's just that, well, why?
Because Stevens, we must ensure that our first class passengers are safe before any of that stinking Irish rabble clamor aboard.
Very good, sir. And someone will alert me when the first class passengers have been loaded onto the boats so that I may release the Irish?
Well, it's a curious thing, Steven. There actually is not enough room for all all of the passengers.
I see. So the first class passengers and the crew will all be loaded on and then the Irish are to be released to fend for themselves?
I should mention that not all of the first class passengers will be able to fit aboard the boats, I'm afraid. Just some of the women and children.
Oh. And the crew? Where should I muster for my life boat, sir?
That's the other thing I should have mentioned. There are no lifeboats for the crew either.
So I am to drown then?
No, my boy, we are to drown. As honorable a death as any seaman could ask for!
Now, as your final act on this earth, as your dying deed, will you please get to the steerage gates and lock those cursed Irish in so that a small number of wealthy aristocratic women who would never ever consider us their social equals may escape this awful disaster unscathed?
Sir, it would be my greatest honor. Goddamn the Irish!
Goddamn the Irish, Stevens. Goddamn them all to hell.