“The pitch-black night of the northern Atlantic Ocean was lit by a starry sky, and the massive deck of the RMS Titanic swarmed with confused passengers and crew members. Electric lamps shone out from row upon row of portholes that should have been dark. It was nearly one o’clock in the morning, and the ship’s passengers should have been in bed.

Charlotte Collyer stood at the ship’s railing, shivering as her gaze moved between the dark sea below and the milling crowd. The sea was calm and still, and the cold air was sharp. Surely nothing serious could have gone wrong with the ship, she thought. It was so large, she felt just as safe as if she were standing on land. So why were the officers calling women and children to the lifeboats?”