A journal has recently come into The Socities possession which reveals an intriguing story about the sinking of the ill fated passenger liner RMS Titanic.
The journal in question was sent in a sealed parcel to The Lord High President together with a letter purporting to be from a descendant of an original survivor of the tragedy.
The accompanying letter explained that the journal had been pressed into their ancestors hands by a fellow traveller, Steven Edgar Pentecost, who rather than attempting to escape the vessels fate, chose to go down with the ship as it sank into the cold depths of the Atlantic Ocean.
Upon reaching safety the journals new owner discovered that it was securely locked and the key lost in the confusion and panic of escape.
Rather than forcing it open they chose to keep it safe as a reminder of that terrible night.
However, after nearly 100 years in storage, time took its toll and the lock recently sprang open for the journal to at last revealed its long hidden secrets.
Upon reading the contents of the journal its anonymous caretaker followed the instructions written within and returned it to The Prydonian Society.
There now follows a short transcript of the journals contents relating to RMS Titanic.
10 April 1912
It would appear that the suspicions of Doctor Smith are correct and certain items from Marcus Scarman's personal collection escaped the fire at The Priory and are now on route to New York aboard RMS Titanic.
Secured in the ships hold, amongst the motor vehicles and other large items, are a sarcophagus and crated casket the contents of which are unknown.
11 April 1912
Further investigation of the passenger list has revealed the items are being
transported under the name of a Mr Namin. I engaged this Mr Namin in conversation over a game of bridge, during which we discussed our reasons for travel. He explained that his business involved dealing in Egyptian antiquities but I fear he became suspicious when I enquired as to whether he had a brother and if it was a family business.
12 April 1912
The mystery deepens, Mr Namin has a travelling companion in the form of an elderly Persian lady named Ms Setekh.
I eavesdropped on a conversation between them, in which they were discussing the contents of the casket. Apparently it contains something called an Osiran temporal gateway.
Ms Setekh is acting under the written instruction of Marcus Scarman, that if anything was to happen to him, the casket and sarcophagus should be removed from their hiding place in storage at The British Museum and taken to a prearranged destination in New York.
13 April 1912
This evening I was invited to dine with the captain. Captain Smith said he had heard something of my adventure with that old rogue Flashman and wished for me to elaborate further.
When I arrived at the appointed hour I discovered that, by a remarkable stroke of providence, one of the other dining guests happened to be Ms Setekh, who was seated next to Captain Smith.
I was seated next to a remarkable young lady called Lady Wilhelmina Felsham who is travelling to New York to collect an inheritance.
Ms Setekh looked to be getting on exceedingly well with Captain Smith and monopolised most of his evening. Captain Smith for his part seemed to be quite entranced by her company and by the large emerald ring which sat resplendent on Ms Setekh's left hand.
14 April 1912
While shadowing Ms Setekh I have observed that she has been in regular communicating with New York via telegraph. Who could she be communicating with and why?
Over dinner Lady Felsham commented that Captain Smith has ordered the ship to increase speed, this is despite the dangers of the ice flows which he spoke of over yesterday's dinner.
I sense the influence of Ms Setekh in this turn of events, her suspicions about me may have resulted in her bringing forward her plans and require an earlier arrival at our destination.
15 April 1912
This evening I returned to the ships hold to investigate the casket and sarcophagus.
Unfortunately I found Ms Setekh and Mr Namin were already there and involved in some sort of ritual. Both miscreants were standing in front of the sarcophagus chanting. As the chanting reached its crescendo, slowly but surely the sarcophagus opened to reveal a 7ft tall Egyptian mummy.
I attempted to move position to gain a better view but the crate I was leaning against shifted resulting in a loud noise and alerting my opponents to my location.
At a command from Ms Setekh the mummy came towards me, I attempted to evade it but it proved to be surprising agile for one so large.
Captured, I was restrained against the casket by Setekh and Namin. The mummy raised its massive fist to put an end to my struggles, but as it stepped forward a errant patch of motor oil caused it to stumble. Namin dived aside as the great hulking fist smashed down, through the casket and into the item contained within it.
In the confusion I tried to escape but was winged by an explosion emanating from the crate. Setekh, Namin and their mummified servant were caught by the full force of the blast.
Examining their bodies they appeared to be ageing before my eyes. Within moments all that was left was dust.
The force of the explosion had caused the crate to come to rest against the ships hull. An ominous creaking sound caused me to turn around and see to my horror that the hull was now also ageing rapidly. Huge flakes of rust were falling away and already jets of freezing water were forcing their way through from the ocean beyond.
I attempted to run but discovered my left side incapacitated and, like everything else caught in the blast, that it was ageing at an accelerated rate.
I hobbled up the steps out of the hold, closing the door behind me as I heard the terrible noise of the hull beginning to give way.
I eventually managed to get back to my cabin and knowing the ship is doomed I am completing this journal to inform The Society as to what has transpired.
I will attempt to get the journal to Lady Felsham, as hopefully she will be evacuated with the first class passengers. It is interesting that on my journey back from the hold I heard talk of a near miss with an iceberg, perhaps this will provide a suitable cover story to obscure the machinations of Setekh and Namin.
When I have safely delivered this journal I plan to return to my cabin and await the same fate as that which awaits the stricken liner. With the rate I am ageing, I only have hours to live anyway.
This is Steven Edgar Pentecost, member of The Prydonian Society bidding adieu.
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