The thought of sitting at our usual table listening to Major Peuchen ramble on and on didn’t thrill me, so I nodded in approval. Maybe I could sneak out at dinnertime to find Johnnie and tell him about the icebergs.
As we approached the entrance to the Café Parisien we heard raised voices and laughter and soon saw Charles Fortune and two of his sisters at the door, along with another young man. When they noticed us, Ethel Fortune cried, “We just saw a mouse in there, can you believe it?”
“But Will chased it,” added Alice Fortune, turning to the young man beside her.
“It wasn’t a mouse, I tell you. It was a rat, a white rat!” he replied.
“With a long, slimy tail!” Charles added, which made his sisters shriek with mock horror.
“Good afternoon,” my father said to the Fortunes in an unruffled voice. “Glad to see you’re all enjoying yourselves.” No one noticed that I’d flushed crimson at the mention of the white rat.
“William Sloper seems very keen on Alice Fortune,” my mother said to my father after we were seated at one of the round tables in the café. “I gather they met on the ship on the way over and he booked on the Titanic just to be near her.”
“Hmm, yes,” said my father as he looked over the menu card.
“Mind you, he lives in Connecticut,” my mother continued, “which is a long way from Winnipeg … ”
I wasn’t paying much attention to their conversation, as I was eyeing the cakes and pastries on the dessert table. They all looked good to me, but I was afraid they might be irresistible to Sykes, if he was still nearby. I suddenly imagined a big white rat gorging himself on the cakes and all the screaming that would follow, which made me smile.
“You look happy, Jamie,” my mother said.
“Oh, I’m just thinking about those cakes,” I replied.
The Café Parisien had white trellises along the walls with ivy growing up them. Through the arched windows I could see the ocean going by and it seemed as if we were going faster.
“I think we’ve speeded up,” I said to my father.
“Yes,” he said, looking out the window. “They may have lit another boiler.”
“I think we’ll have a lovely sunset tonight,” my mother said, looking out at the horizon.
“I doubt many will want to go out on deck to see it,” my father replied. “The temperature seems to be plummeting.”
After we had drunk our tea and I had fully gorged myself on cream buns and a slice of Eccles cake, my mother insisted we take a look at the Ritz restaurant, since it was right beside the café. It was very ritzy indeed, with carved pillars and polished wooden panelling with lots of shiny gold decoration on it. The staff were setting up the tables for dinner and putting small vases of flowers on the white tablecloths.
“This looks just lovely, Henry,” my mother said. “I’m so glad the Fortunes invited us to dine here.”
I was equally glad that this dinner would give me an evening to myself. And since I was feeling stuffed from all I’d eaten in the café, I wouldn’t need to worry about food for a while. As we came to the staircase I said to my father. “I’ll just look in on Max for a minute.”
“We-e-ll, all right,” he replied, clearly reluctant to let me go off on my own. “But don’t be long.”
It was very cold up on the boat deck and only one or two other people were out there to see the sky begin to turn pink. There were no stewards in the kennel area either, so I just spent a few minutes with Max before I walked forward on the boat deck and looked down toward the forecastle deck where Johnnie and I had been nabbed by Officer Lightoller. Up in the crow’s nest high on the mast I thought I could see the lookout on duty, scanning the horizon for any icebergs ahead. I headed back to the staircase and went down to C deck. Instead of turning toward our stateroom, however, I suddenly decided to look in on Johnnie. I knocked on his door and Miss Bowen answered.
“Is John here?” I asked.
She fetched him, but stood only a few feet away from the door so she could listen to our conversation.
“My parents are dining in the Ritz restaurant tonight,” I said.
“We’re all in the dining saloon,” he replied. “Except for my mother and Emily — that’s my sister — who’s going to keep her company in the room.”
“They say we might be seeing icebergs soon,” I said.
“So I’ve heard,” he replied. “I’d love to see one up close!”
“Our friend Sykes was in the café for tea today,” I added.
“Was he?” Johnnie’s eyebrows shot up. “He does get around. I heard he was trying out the machines in the gym.”
“The mechanical camel is his favourite, I believe,” I said.
“Yes, well, the rowing machine is too hard for his skinny arms,” he added, managing to keep a straight face.
I was finding it a challenge not to laugh, so I quickly waved goodbye and went back to our stateroom. Rosalie was there, preparing to get my mother dressed for the evening. She asked what I was doing about dinner, but I said that I was too full from tea to think about eating anything soon.
After Rosalie left and my parents went up to the restaurant, I lay on my bed and read for a while. At about eight-thirty I suddenly felt a few hunger pangs. It’s funny how stuffing yourself makes you even hungrier later, I thought. I decided to head down to the dining saloon to see if I could get some dinner before it was too late. Just as I walked into the huge room someone called my name. It was Johnnie, waving me over to his table.
“You haven’t met my family,” he said as he introduced me to his father and older sister Suzette, who was in her twenties. Clearly, Miss Bowen had not ratted us out to Johnnie’s dad, as he was quite friendly. But Miss Bowen stared at me coolly from across the table.
I explained that my parents were dining in the Ritz restaurant that evening.
“We’d ask you to join us, Jamie,” Mr. Ryerson said, “except we’re almost finished. But look,” he added, gesturing to a nearby table, “there’s Jack Thayer sitting alone. His parents are dining upstairs tonight, too. Here, let me take you over.”
Before I had time to protest, Mr. Ryerson had sat me down opposite Jack Thayer, introduced us, and returned to his family. Jack didn’t seem thrilled at first about sitting with a kid like me — I soon learned that he was seventeen — but after we chatted a little, he warmed up. He had already had soup and an appetizer so I ordered sirloin of beef to arrive at the same time as his roast duckling.
“I’ve heard we might see icebergs,” I said as we waited for our main courses to arrive.
“Yes, when my mother was sitting on deck today, Mr. Ismay showed her a wireless message from another ship saying there was ice ahead.”
“I was in the Marconi room when a message like that one came in,” I said.
“You were?” Jack asked. “How did you get there?”
“Oh well,” I said casually, “I met the Marconi operator earlier in the voyage.”
Jack looked at me rather dubiously but I didn’t offer any further explanation. He said his family were neighbours of the Ryersons, in a town called Haverford outside Philadelphia. I told him a few stories about Winchester College, which made him laugh. Then he said that he’d been sent to an English boarding school, too. “But my school doesn’t seem so bad compared to yours,” he added with a smile.
By the time we had finished eating, not many people were left in the room and I got the impression that the stewards were eager to finish cleaning up the tables. Jack and I decided to adjourn to the Palm Room, and maybe have some dessert there. I decided that I liked Jack Thayer. He seemed a very straightforward person and he laughed easily.
As we walked into the Palm Room the Ryersons were just leaving. Johnnie saw us and came over to me. “Sykes is home!” he said quickly before hurrying back to his family.
“Who’s Sykes?” Jack asked.
“Oh, just someone we know,” I replied, figuring that Jack might think a pet rat was kids
’ stuff. But I was glad that Johnnie had managed to retrieve him.
There were still many people seated around the small tables in the Palm Room, listening to the orchestra play. Jack and I walked around but couldn’t find a free table. Then we spotted a young man sitting alone. He waved us over and offered his hand as we sat down.
“Hello, my name’s Milton Long,” he said.
Jack and I introduced ourselves and it wasn’t long before we were talking about skiing. Milton was from Springfield, Massachusetts, but had recently been skiing in Switzerland. Jack had been to Switzerland, too, so they talked about how wonderful it was to ski there. I was about to ask whether they had ever tried the Laurentians, but then thought that they might not measure up to the Swiss Alps.
“I thought of doing the Cresta Run,” Milton said, “but then I remembered that my parents only have one son!” When he saw my puzzled look, Milton explained that the Cresta was a famous but dangerous bobsled run which you are required to go down headfirst.
“But then, of course,” he added, “I’ve never told my parents about being shipwrecked in Alaska, either.”
“Shipwrecked?” Jack and I asked in unison.
“Well, it wasn’t as exciting as it sounds,” he admitted. “I was in a small steamer that ran aground on the rocks. But as it was tipping over I managed to jump onto some shoals and then just went from one rock to another until I got to shore. I only got my feet wet!”
I felt like a real kid as Jack and Milton talked. I’d done so little compared to them. And Milton had been everywhere, it seemed. At one point he asked us to guess his age. I said twenty-two, and Jack guessed twenty-six, but Milton told us he was twenty-nine. That made me feel a little better — he was more than twice my age!
Jack asked Milton if he had collected stamps on his travels — it was a favourite hobby of Jack’s. There had been a stamp club at my school, but it had always seemed a really dull pastime to me and I grew a little bored as Jack and Milton talked about stamps. Then Jack noticed his parents coming down the stairs after their dinner. Yikes! I thought, remembering that I was supposed to have stayed in my room all evening! I quickly shook hands with Milton and Jack, thanked them for their company and hurried over to the grand staircase and ran up to C deck. When my parents returned from dinner they found me lying on my bed reading.
“We had such a lovely dinner!” my mother said. “The food was out of this world! And you, dear?”
“Oh, you know, fine, quiet, nothing much,” I replied, faking sleepiness. They said good-night and before long the light under their door went out. But I was enjoying Captains Courageous and decided to read on until the end of the chapter.
CHAPTER SIX
COLLISION
April 14, 1912, 11:40 p.m.
I had fallen asleep with the book in my hand. Groggily, I sat up and tossed it onto the wooden nightstand beside the bed. Then I turned to switch off the small lamp on the wall. As I did so, its glass shade began to rattle. All of a sudden the whole room swayed — it felt as if we had hit a large wave. And then I heard a long, low, grinding noise. Suddenly I was wide awake. I hopped out of bed and opened the porthole. The ocean below looked perfectly calm and the stars were winking brightly against the ink-black sky. When I climbed back into bed I noticed that the sound of the engines had stopped. It left a strange silence — I had become quite used to their thrumming rhythm. Then I heard voices and footsteps in the corridor outside.
“Something’s up,” I thought. I put on my slippers and walked across the room to get my overcoat. That’s when I noticed light coming from below the door to my parents’ room.
“Jamie, is everything all right?” my father called out in a sleepy voice.
“I’m just going up to see why we’ve stopped,” I replied.
“Wait,” he said. “I’ll come with you.”
“No need,” I replied. “I’ll be fine.”
“Wait! I’ll be there presently,” he insisted, which annoyed me. Surely I was able to go up on deck on my own! My father soon appeared wearing his coat and black bowler hat. He had put on his shoes, but I could see the legs of his flannel pyjamas below his overcoat. All was now quiet in the corridor as we walked aft toward the grand staircase. On the stairs up to A deck we met Mr. Hays and a young man, whom I later learned was his son-in-law. Both were still in their evening clothes and Hays had his ever-present cigar in his hand.
“Good evening, Laidlaw!” he called out. “We’ve struck an iceberg. But it’s gone on by. Nothing to worry about, nothing to worry about at all,” he stated firmly. “There’s some ice in the water if you want to see it,” he added, pointing to the promenade with his cigar.
As we walked onto the A-deck promenade my father said to me quietly, “Hays and his family are guests of Mr. Ismay. So I suppose he knows what he’s talking about.”
“Have you seen the ice?” asked a grey-bearded man standing by the promenade windows.
When we looked over we realized it was Major Peuchen. He led us forward to the end of the promenade and pointed over the side. We looked down but couldn’t see any ice in the water.
“Well, there was some there only moments ago,” he said. “I could see it quite clearly.”
I went farther aft on the promenade, leaned out and, sure enough, in the black water below lay some greyish chunks of ice.
“Yes, it’s there, I can see it!” I said, gesturing to my father and Major Peuchen to come and look.
We heard shouts coming from the lower decks behind us so we walked back and looked over the railing down to the aft well deck. Some young fellows from third class were playing soccer with a chunk of ice. Each time they kicked it, splinters broke off.
“Ow-w, me foot!” I heard an Irish voice yell as one boy hopped about after kicking the ice a little too enthusiastically.
“Pieces from the iceberg fell off as it scraped by us,” said Major Peuchen.
“How big was it?” asked my father.
“Must have been a fairly large one,” Major Peuchen replied. “Some chaps in the smoking room saw it pass by and thought we’d collided with a sailing ship.”
Then he suddenly said, “Hello-o. We seem to be listing! She shouldn’t be doing that!” He was holding his arm straight out with his palm downwards. “I think we’re listing to starboard!”
My father and I imitated the Major’s hand gesture, but neither of us could tell if the ship was leaning to one side or not.
Father turned to me “Well, Jamie,” he said, “perhaps we should go down and look in on your mother.” We said goodnight to Major Peuchen and returned to the grand staircase.
“Peuchen is a yachtsman,” he said as we descended to our deck. “But I doubt he knows much about steamships.”
Mother greeted us in her dressing gown when we re-entered our cabin. “The steward was just here, saying something about an iceberg,” she reported in a peevish voice. “He says we’re to put on our lifebelts and go up on deck. Do you think that’s really necessary, Henry?”
“Just a precaution, I’m sure,” my father replied. “Though we just ran into Peuchen on the deck. He seems to think we’re listing to starboard.”
“Yes,” replied my mother with a slight sniff, “Well, he would, wouldn’t he.”
Suddenly there was a sharp rap at the door. It was a steward, but not our regular one. He had a lifebelt over his arm.
“Everyone is to report to the boat deck,” he said brusquely. “Dress warmly and put on your lifebelts. If you need ’elp with ’em, someone will assist you.”
My father looked at him coldly, clearly annoyed at being spoken to in this way by a steward. “Is this really an emergency?” he demanded. “Or is it simply a drill?”
“Nothin’ to worry about, sir,” the steward said. “I’m just tellin’ you my orders.” Then he paused and said, “But from what I’ve ’eard, this is no drill.” With that he left and within seconds we heard him knocking on the door next to ours.
As my fa
ther closed the door I noticed for the first time a slight look of worry on his face. A chilly nervous tremor ran down my spine. This was all becoming exciting! I suddenly pictured myself having an even better story to tell the boys at Bishop’s College. I pulled out my suitcase from under the bed and began rummaging through it for some warm clothes.
Just then there was another knock on our door and Rosalie entered, wearing her lifebelt over her coat. “There ’as been a collision,” she said.
“Yes, with an iceberg,” I replied. “But they say it’s not serious.”
“I’m not so sure. Down below you could really feel it,” she said. “And I ’eard from a steward — they are hauling bags out of the mailroom, which is all flooded.”
“Yes, Rosalie,” my father responded. “But I’m sure that’s no cause for alarm. We are to report to the boat deck, but it’s likely just a precaution,” he concluded in his best take-charge voice.
Rosalie went into my parents’ room while I found a warm sweater to wear underneath my overcoat and lifebelt. As I was dressing I thought about what Major Peuchen had said about the Titanic’s watertight compartments. Surely they would prevent the ship from sinking. And there were likely other ships nearby that could come to our rescue. But imagine this happening to a brand new ship! What bad luck!
CHAPTER SEVEN
TO THE LIFEBOATS
April 15, 1912, 12:35 a.m.
As we walked toward the grand staircase, I noticed the Fortunes in the corridor ahead of us. Mr. Fortune seemed twice his usual size, as he was wearing a huge, shaggy coat under his lifebelt. At the stairs he turned to let his wife and daughters go up ahead of him and then he spotted us.
“Henry!” he called out to my father. “At last I’ve found a use for the buffalo coat that everyone has had such fun about!”
“No one can say that Canadians don’t know how to dress for the cold!” my father replied as we began to ascend the staircase behind him.
When we stepped through the door onto the boat deck, however, all conversation stopped, because steam was being vented with a deafening roar through pipes that ran up the sides of the funnels. It made me realize just how much steam was required to power the Titanic’s engines. Officer Lightoller was shouting out orders beside the portside boat davits, trying to make himself heard above the noise. The canvas covers had been taken off the tops of the lifeboats and one boat had already been swung out over the side. Were they really going to put us all into the lifeboats? I wondered. Looking out on the horizon, I could see the lights of another ship that seemed only a few miles away. Perhaps they were going to row some of the women and children over to it as a precaution?
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