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106 years ago today, on the morning of November 21st, 1916, His Majesty’s Hospital Ship Britannic struck a mine in the Kea Channel in Greece. Despite being perhaps the safest ship of her time, she sank in just under an hour, taking thirty people down with her and injuring several others. What would have been the grandest liner to ever sail was gone after less than a year of service, never having fulfilled her intended purpose. Britannic never knew peacetime; she and the thirty people who died alongside her would be remembered primarily as casualties of a pointless war.

But what if that never happened? What if Britannic survived the mine and made it through the war?

When Britannic entered service in December of 1915, it was as a hospital ship, not a liner. It was a role she never wanted; hearing the cries of the wounded pained her to no end, and her incomplete construction and filthy hull only added to the insecurity she’d had festering inside since before she’d even been launched. She grew to be bitter and resentful, the result of knowing nothing but war and ceaseless comparisons to a sister she’d never met. Her surviving sister, Olympic, was constantly preoccupied with her own past, rendering her unable to provide Britannic with the love she so desperately needed; this neglect only sent Britannic spiraling further into anger and self-hatred, and the two sisters quickly grew apart. For months, Britannic’s only comfort was her dear friend Aquitania, who she soon fell in love with.
Everything changed in November of 1916. After a brief respite during which she’d thought she would finally get to serve her intended purpose, Britannic was recalled for hospital service. She set out once again, shrouded in a cloud of anguish, and as she sailed through the Aegean Sea disaster struck. Britannic hit a mine in the Kea Channel, leaving her with a gaping hole in her side. Water flooded in as her captain steered her toward the shore only a few miles away; her crew and medical staff, meanwhile, lined up in neat rows and waited for the order to launch the lifeboats. That order never came, however; instead, by some miracle, Britannic made it to Kea and ran aground just off the shore. Her crew hastily patched her up, and the ships who’d responded to her distress calls arrived and helped refloat her. The warships escorted her up to Moudros, her initial destination, where she received sturdier repairs, and then she set off to Belfast, where she could be truly fixed up.
It was after this incident that Britannic’s life began to change. Olympic had realized how much pain she’d been causing her sister and made an effort to mend things; although that alone was not enough to undo the results of her neglect, Britannic appreciated the effort, especially in the wake of her near-death experience. That experience also drove her to put her anxiety aside and confess her love for Aquitania, and to her delight she found that her feelings were reciprocated. At last, things were looking up.
Late in 1917, when America joined the war, Britannic served as a troopship alongside Aquitania, Olympic, and Mauretania; all four managed to survive and make it through the war. Finally, in 1920, Britannic entered service as an ocean liner, at long last fulfulling the role she was built for. She quickly grew to be an immensely popular ship, and at the same time she matured a great deal. She finally let go of her hatred for Titanic and realized that she could love Olympic and still acknowledge the pain she’d caused early on; the relationship between the two sisters rapidly improved. She sailed beside Olympic and the former German liner Majestic, serving as a friendly rival to Aquitania, Mauretania, and Majestic’s sister Berengaria, and although the pain of the past would never be erased everything was, for all intents and purposes, wonderful.
By the time the Great Depression struck, Britannic had grown into a mature, happy ship, and when the stock market crashed she was one of the few transatlantic liners to continue making a profit. She and Aquitania were the only ones of their group to survive the Depression; they were devastated at the loss of their friends and family, and it only became worse as the world was plunged into another war, dredging up their old trauma. Both ships survived yet again, however, supporting one another until the war was through. They were scrapped side by side in Scotland in 1950, a relatively happy ending for two ships whose lives had been so tumultuous.

Obviously, the above never happened. Britannic was of course lost during the First World War, never having sailed as the liner she was meant to be. However, I decided to draw something ironically happy to commemorate her sinking; this decision was, in part, the result of me just wanting to draw her smiling for once. I’ve been wanting to draw her as she would have appeared in the 20s if she’d survived the war for a while, too, and I figured this was a perfect occasion - after all, in my experience, her sinking becomes so much more tragic when one remembers what she could have been and how violently her bright future was ripped away.

Here are some notes:
-She’s standing on one of her gantry davits; specifically, it’s supposed to be the forward-most port one, which was never installed in reality. In my lore, one of Britannic’s many insecurities about her appearance as a ship is that missing davit, as it’s more egregious than the others and makes her look rather lopsided, so I decided to draw her standing on that. She’s complete here, after all, and the davit is almost a symbol of that.
-The funnel behind her is colored in the pinkish variety of White Star Buff which was present on White Star liners in the 1920s (visible in a color photo of Olympic and in various contemporary promotional images).
-All the decorations on her dress, shoes, and head are derived from the detailing on her pipe organ casing, as reconstructed in Britannic: Patroness of the Mediterranean. The only (partial) exception is the design around her waist, which incorporates elements from her iconic gantry davits as well.
-It’s a bit hard to see, but her heels are sort of hooked around the ladder, holding her in place.
-She’s still wearing her gold eyeshadow and nail polish!
-Like Olympic, she has pearl necklaces. Hers are far longer, though, (and she has two instead of one double-layered one) in keeping with 1920s fashion.
-I’ve never drawn her smiling before, so this was a really fun challenge!

This piece is dedicated to HMHS Britannic and the thirty souls who were lost when she sank. May they all rest in peace.

A detailed list of Britannic’s thirty victims
About her sinking

Description

106 years ago today, on the morning of November 21st, 1916, His Majesty’s Hospital Ship Britannic struck a mine in the Kea Channel in Greece. Despite being perhaps the safest ship of her time, she sank in just under an hour, taking thirty people down with her and injuring several others. What would have been the grandest liner to ever sail was gone after less than a year of service, never having fulfilled her intended purpose. Britannic never knew peacetime; she and the thirty people who died alongside her would be remembered primarily as casualties of a pointless war.

But what if that never happened? What if Britannic survived the mine and made it through the war?

When Britannic entered service in December of 1915, it was as a hospital ship, not a liner. It was a role she never wanted; hearing the cries of the wounded pained her to no end, and her incomplete construction and filthy hull only added to the insecurity she’d had festering inside since before she’d even been launched. She grew to be bitter and resentful, the result of knowing nothing but war and ceaseless comparisons to a sister she’d never met. Her surviving sister, Olympic, was constantly preoccupied with her own past, rendering her unable to provide Britannic with the love she so desperately needed; this neglect only sent Britannic spiraling further into anger and self-hatred, and the two sisters quickly grew apart. For months, Britannic’s only comfort was her dear friend Aquitania, who she soon fell in love with.
Everything changed in November of 1916. After a brief respite during which she’d thought she would finally get to serve her intended purpose, Britannic was recalled for hospital service. She set out once again, shrouded in a cloud of anguish, and as she sailed through the Aegean Sea disaster struck. Britannic hit a mine in the Kea Channel, leaving her with a gaping hole in her side. Water flooded in as her captain steered her toward the shore only a few miles away; her crew and medical staff, meanwhile, lined up in neat rows and waited for the order to launch the lifeboats. That order never came, however; instead, by some miracle, Britannic made it to Kea and ran aground just off the shore. Her crew hastily patched her up, and the ships who’d responded to her distress calls arrived and helped refloat her. The warships escorted her up to Moudros, her initial destination, where she received sturdier repairs, and then she set off to Belfast, where she could be truly fixed up.
It was after this incident that Britannic’s life began to change. Olympic had realized how much pain she’d been causing her sister and made an effort to mend things; although that alone was not enough to undo the results of her neglect, Britannic appreciated the effort, especially in the wake of her near-death experience. That experience also drove her to put her anxiety aside and confess her love for Aquitania, and to her delight she found that her feelings were reciprocated. At last, things were looking up.
Late in 1917, when America joined the war, Britannic served as a troopship alongside Aquitania, Olympic, and Mauretania; all four managed to survive and make it through the war. Finally, in 1920, Britannic entered service as an ocean liner, at long last fulfulling the role she was built for. She quickly grew to be an immensely popular ship, and at the same time she matured a great deal. She finally let go of her hatred for Titanic and realized that she could love Olympic and still acknowledge the pain she’d caused early on; the relationship between the two sisters rapidly improved. She sailed beside Olympic and the former German liner Majestic, serving as a friendly rival to Aquitania, Mauretania, and Majestic’s sister Berengaria, and although the pain of the past would never be erased everything was, for all intents and purposes, wonderful.
By the time the Great Depression struck, Britannic had grown into a mature, happy ship, and when the stock market crashed she was one of the few transatlantic liners to continue making a profit. She and Aquitania were the only ones of their group to survive the Depression; they were devastated at the loss of their friends and family, and it only became worse as the world was plunged into another war, dredging up their old trauma. Both ships survived yet again, however, supporting one another until the war was through. They were scrapped side by side in Scotland in 1950, a relatively happy ending for two ships whose lives had been so tumultuous.

Obviously, the above never happened. Britannic was of course lost during the First World War, never having sailed as the liner she was meant to be. However, I decided to draw something ironically happy to commemorate her sinking; this decision was, in part, the result of me just wanting to draw her smiling for once. I’ve been wanting to draw her as she would have appeared in the 20s if she’d survived the war for a while, too, and I figured this was a perfect occasion - after all, in my experience, her sinking becomes so much more tragic when one remembers what she could have been and how violently her bright future was ripped away.

Here are some notes:
-She’s standing on one of her gantry davits; specifically, it’s supposed to be the forward-most port one, which was never installed in reality. In my lore, one of Britannic’s many insecurities about her appearance as a ship is that missing davit, as it’s more egregious than the others and makes her look rather lopsided, so I decided to draw her standing on that. She’s complete here, after all, and the davit is almost a symbol of that.
-The funnel behind her is colored in the pinkish variety of White Star Buff which was present on White Star liners in the 1920s (visible in a color photo of Olympic and in various contemporary promotional images).
-All the decorations on her dress, shoes, and head are derived from the detailing on her pipe organ casing, as reconstructed in Britannic: Patroness of the Mediterranean. The only (partial) exception is the design around her waist, which incorporates elements from her iconic gantry davits as well.
-It’s a bit hard to see, but her heels are sort of hooked around the ladder, holding her in place.
-She’s still wearing her gold eyeshadow and nail polish!
-Like Olympic, she has pearl necklaces. Hers are far longer, though, (and she has two instead of one double-layered one) in keeping with 1920s fashion.
-I’ve never drawn her smiling before, so this was a really fun challenge!

This piece is dedicated to HMHS Britannic and the thirty souls who were lost when she sank. May they all rest in peace.

A detailed list of Britannic’s thirty victims
About her sinking