In my family it has been a custom for many years for the first son to inherit the family capital, the titles and all the land, the second son was to serve in the military or become a clergyman (depending on his sexual orientation) and the third son was given some seed money and was expected to venture out into the world and establish a family fortune and titles of his own. This is the true story of my grandfather, Trevor Fitzright V.
My grandfather was born in 1896 as the third son of Lord Fitzright, the Earl of Cranthorpe. Lord Fitzright was at the time her Majesty’s ambassador in Paris. Not much is known of the early years of my grandfather other than that he was a bright student with a knack for languages and athletics. At a very young age he could insult the French, Russian and German dignitaries in their own tongues and could run away sufficiently hard enough to escape a brutal beating. Needless to say he was the apple in my great-grandfather’s eye. As a precaution the Lord insisted my grandfather was to be trained early and thoroughly in handling pistols and swords for the duels that were sure to come on his path.
At age sixteen my grandfather had traveled and studied all over Europe, but he became interested in America. Europe in that time was an old moloch of established structure and almost buried under the weight of its own history. He sent his father a formal letter requesting his seed money so he could book passage aboard the newly finished jewel of the Atlantic, Titanic. Lord Fitzright denied him this, as he felt my grandfather was too young for such an adventure.
My grandfather booked passage anyway, but his limited funds only allowed him a third class ticket. As he was used in dealing with plebeians this did not pose a problem for him.
In Portsmouth he met a young man named Jack Dawson. This Jack was as determined as my grandfather to travel with the Titanic to the Americas, and in waiting for the ship to leave the two became friends. Jack didn’t have a penny to his name, and as the 10th of April 1912 drew closer my grandfather took pity on Jack. After all, coming from a privileged family he soon enough would get his chance to make his mark.
Knowing full well that Jack never would accept his ticket if he offered it to him, my grandfather proposed a pokergame after a drinking binge with Jack and made sure he lost the final hand, including his ticket. In retrospect, this may not have entirely been based on benevolence as he had developed a passionate affair with a nice piece of blond strumpet.
The Titanic steamed off to its meeting with doom without my grandfather, but with Jack Dawson. My grandfather soon forgot all about Jack.
The rest is cinematic history.
