Gage turned to Nadyha and said grimly, “We can’t go that way.”
Her face crumpled. “I thought—I thought we might be able to get down to the cargo hold and—Tinar, and Saz, and Cayenne—they can swim—”
“I know,” he said fervently, “they’re your brothers. But they’re Niçu’s brothers, too, and I know that he’ll take as good care of them as you or I would. We just can’t go and try to fight that crowd at the stairs, and there’s no other way down to the main deck from here. We’re going to have to jump.”
Nadyha looked over the railing. It was about ten feet down to the river, which was filled with debris. She looked back up at Gage, and she looked frightened. Still, her voice was steady as she asked, “You and I can go over the railing, but what about Anca and Boldo?”
“Stand back.” Nadyha stepped back against the ship’s side. Gage leaned over and hit the railing with a piledriver kick. It loosened it. He kicked it again, grunting with the effort. The top crossbar splintered and with one final kick the railing separated, leaving an opening about two feet wide. As Gage was taking off his boots he asked hesitantly, “I don’t even know . . . can cougars swim? Can bears swim?”
“I don’t know either,” Nadyha answered. “But I’m praying that they can.”
“Me, too. Now I don’t know how deep the water is here, but I know that we’re close enough to the shore that we probably will only have a short swim before it shallows out. When you hit the water, go straight in feet first, then pull your knees up fast. It’ll keep you from sinking too deep.”
Nadyha nodded, then stepped up to him and caressed the puppies. “Baro, Bitti, don’t be scared, Gage will take care of you.” Gently she shoved them down into the bag and folded the top. Placing her hand over Gage’s, she said, “I thank God for you.” Then she dropped to her knees in front of the two animals. “Anca, Boldo, we have to jump. It’s all right. I know that miry deary Dovvel will take care of us.” She stood again, and took a deep shuddering breath. She removed Anca’s leash, walked to the edge of the deck, and said, “Come on, with me. It’s time.” Anca and Boldo both walked and looked over the edge. In an instant, Anca launched herself into the water. Nadyha grabbed Boldo’s paw and jumped. It all happened so fast that Gage was stunned for a moment. Then, holding the puppies in the canvas bag far over his head, he jumped.
He did as he’d instructed Nadyha, going into a crouch as soon as he slid into the water. Then he straightened out and gave a hard scissor kick in order to surface. With vast relief he felt his toes barely scrape the bottom. Surfacing, he saw that the puppies’ bag hadn’t even been dunked. Nadyha was on his right, swimming steadily. With bemusement he saw that Anca was gliding easily through the water far ahead of them, with Boldo not far behind her. He, too, swam with a grace that he never had on land. Gage carefully set the canvas bag down in front of him and saw with relief that because of the pasteboard bottom it would float, for a little while at least. He started kicking, pushing it in front of him.
They had to swim all the way around the bow of the boat, which was about forty feet. Gage now comprehended the debris in the water; some of it was not debris, but bodies. He wondered about the woman who had fallen overboard. Above their heads, on the third-class stairs, the crowd of people had grown but it seemed that the panic had lessened. They were streaming down the stairwell now.
As they rounded the bow Gage saw that the broad platform on the main deck, where the giant capstans stood that winched down the landing stages, was crowded with people. Even with her immense size, the Queen still had a shallow draft, so the main deck was only about two feet above the water. Gage thought, Once Nadyha’s safe, it would be easy for me to swim back out and pull myself up onto the deck.
He rounded the boat and finally could see the docks. The Queen was still drifting, but she hadn’t drifted far out into the river. The shore was about two hundred feet away. Just ahead of him Nadyha swam; Boldo was still in front of her and Anca was already about halfway to shore. Gage kicked harder and began to move faster, until he was alongside Nadyha. “You’re doing great. Just a little farther on, and I think it might shallow out enough for us to be able to wade.”
She was breathing hard but not gasping. “I understand.”
They swam; they swam. Gage watched Nadyha anxiously but she kept a steady, strong rhythm. Finally he stopped kicking and went vertical. His feet touched the bottom, but it was still neck deep. “Just a little further,” he called to her. With determination she did three hard, heavy strokes, then stopped. She stood up, and the water was chest-deep. Now slightly breathless, she said, “Thank You, Lord, thank You.” Gage put his arm around her, and they waded. Ahead of them Anca and Boldo reached the shore.
Now Gage was able to look around and assess the situation. The Hurricane Deck of the Queen was burning from the stern to amidships; the pilothouse, just a few feet from the bow, was still intact. As Gage had suspected, the Texas Deck was burning on the starboard side. The lower decks, however, seemed to be intact, but then he saw smoke was pouring out of the grand staircase. The Salon Deck must be on fire too. When the explosion had first happened, he had immediately thought of the accident that happened all too often on riverboats: boilers exploded. Later he knew that such couldn’t have been the case. At least, the Queen of Bohemia’s boilers didn’t explode, or it would have blown the entire ship to pieces. Now Gage understood that there had been an explosion up the docks, and the Queen’s stern and starboard side had been shocked by the concussion, but the worst damage had been done by the lethal rain of debris. That had set the Queen on fire.
Past the Queen’s berth, the C. J. Berkeley was burnt almost down to the waterline. Right in front of her berth, the docks were on fire. Catching glimpses through the roiling smoke, with a shock Gage saw that the Illustrious had disappeared. It simply wasn’t there.
The scene was of utter chaos on the Queen. On the third-class deck a panicked crowd still gathered at the bow, fighting to get on the staircase down. Below, on the platform in front of the cargo hold, so many people had fled there that some of them were getting pushed off into the water.
They reached the shore. Boldo was sitting down, watching them. Anca paced; she was keyed up but no longer panicked. Gage laid the canvas bag at his feet and stared back out at the crippled Queen. “I can swim back, and pull myself up onto the main deck at about amidships, where the exterior door to the firebox is.”
Nadyha came to stand in front of him, looking up at him with the most tender expression he had ever seen on her face. “Back there, you told me that you loved me.”
“I told you that I loved you more than my own life,” Gage said hoarsely. “That’s the truth.”
She put her arms around his neck and pulled his head down. Whispering in his ear, she said, “I love you, Gage Kennon. I love you more than I can ever say.”
He kissed her, passionately, and she clung to him.
A deafening growl sounded in the heavens, lightning forked through the smoke, and it began to rain.
NIÇU AND MIRELLA WERE in their stateroom, next to them was Baba Simza, and next to her was Cara. They heard the explosion, and felt the Queen stagger. All of them were looking out of their stateroom windows, and they saw the fiery wreckage landing all around them. Niçu was galvanized into action. “Av akai!” he commanded, grabbing Mirella’s hand. They ran out into the hallway and Niçu started banging on Simza’s door, while Mirella went to Cara’s. When they were all out in the hallway Niçu said, “Follow me.” They were in second class, but instead of going to the Grand Entrance stairs in the Moravian Salon, he turned left and headed toward the bow. They reached the outside stairs on the starboard side. They knew that the decks above them were on fire, but for now, at least, these stairs were clear and they hurried down as fast as Baba Simza could hobble. Down on the main deck they went through the double doors into the cargo hold. Tinar and Saz were relatively calm, but Cayenne was nervous, rearing to paw at his stall door and giving t
he high, snorting whinnies of a frightened horse. Niçu calmed him. Then he told the others, “Get into Anca’s stall and stay there. You’ll be much safer there than with all the gajes. I’m going to go try to find out what happened.”
Mirella said with distress, “Niçu, what about Nadyha?”
He answered, “Gage will find her, and he’ll take care of her. I know that, we all know that. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
He went back to the boiler room and was relieved to find that the doors weren’t locked. Inside were only four firemen; usually there were eight. The boilers were still going, though the ship was idled. “What’s happened, Mannie?” Niçu asked the nearest crewman, a big black man that was usually jolly but now looked as tightly wound as a watch spring.
“Seems like one of the boats down the docks exploded,” he answered. “We thought at first it was the boilers, o’ course. None of us saw the explosion. But now the Chief thinks there’s way too much fire a-rainin’ down, so we don’t know.”
“What about the Queen? Any idea of the damage?”
“Firebox is fine, you can see. Engine room’s fine, she’s still purring along. But we got no steering, thinking maybe Pilot Carruthers got killed. The top decks are on fire, so no one’s been able to get up to the pilothouse.”
“What are we doing? What’s the plan?”
Mannie shrugged. “Cap’n Humphries ordered us to stand by, keep her runnin’, and they’re hoping one of the other pilots will get up there before we get into trouble down here. Cap’n says we’re close enough that if we could get her piloted we might still have time to pull ’er up to the dock.”
Niçu frowned and considered for a minute. At last he asked, “What do you think, Mannie? Do you think we ought to swim for it?”
Without hesitation he replied, “Not just now, I don’t. The crew’s got a bucket brigade going out there on the stern steps, and I say they’ll get a pilot up there before long. This old girl is the soundest, sweetest boat on the river. I say she’ll make it.”
As a rule, Gypsies didn’t shake hands, but now Niçu stuck his hand out and Mannie grasped him with a firm, solid handshake that comforted Niçu even more than his confident words had. “Thanks, Mannie. I have to ask, is there anything I can do?”
“Go take care of your people, Niçu. And pray.”
That’s exactly what Niçu did. He returned to the cargo hold and went into Anca’s stall, where the women were gathered. “I want us to say our prayer, and then, Baba Simza, will you pray?”
“I already am,” she said, “and miry deary Dovvel has told me that no matter what happens, He is right here with us and will comfort us and give us peace. Hai, I will pray so that you can hear me, and then you all will know, too.”
They stood in a circle and held hands and said the Lord’s Prayer, the Gypsies in Romany and Cara whispering in English. Then Simza prayed a fervent prayer aloud, and she was right. All of them felt comforted and unafraid.
STEPHEN CARRUTHERS NEVER KNEW a thing. The concussion blast blew all the pilothouse windows to bits, and he was killed instantly.
The captain, pilots, and owners had a routine when they were coming into home port. Captain Humphries stood on the main deck at the prow, in solitary splendor. Denny and Zedekiah Wainwright mingled with the passengers on the Salon Deck promenade. The purser, A. J. Ruffin, and the two other pilots went to Wainwright’s stateroom, because right after they docked Wainwright had a meeting with the captain, the pilots, and the purser.
In the stateroom, when the explosion happened, the men were situated like this: Hervey stood at his usual post by the sideboard, which was on the starboard side of the boat. A. J. Ruffin was standing at the sideboard, preparing himself a cup of café au lait, because he always said that he was the only one who could fix it exactly as he liked. The two pilots were sitting at the opposite end of the room, on the sofas, sipping the coffee that Hervey had just served them.
The second pilot of the Queen of Bohemia was a young, rowdy riverman named Joshua Swain, and he had been on the river since he was six years old. The third pilot was an older man named Hiram McCullough, who had owned a small cargo hauler that had blown up in a boiler explosion, and he had never been able to get the finances together to buy another, so he was grateful to accept piloting a fine steamer like the Queen.
The Queen started her turn, and Joshua Swain said to McCullough, “As usual, Carruthers is racing her in like a Thoroughbred. Did you know—”
BOOM!
The blast blew in the starboard windows. Hervey was smashed against the sideboard, and his neck snapped. Ruffin was blown sideways into the dining table, breaking his left arm and leg and giving him a severe concussion. Because the pilots were seated all the way across the room on cushioned sofas, they were pressured by the blast but uninjured.
In mere seconds blazing chunks of debris smashed in and set the wall and the floor on fire.
When Swain and McCullough recovered, their first instinct was to put out the fire. They used everything on the sideboard, except the flammable liquor, of course, to douse it. When all of those liquids were gone, they grabbed ice buckets and ran back and forth from the bathroom, which was at the bow end of the long room, inside Wainwright’s bedroom.
The wool carpet on the floor charred but didn’t burn, so the fire didn’t spread on the floor. But they soon realized that running back and forth from the bathroom with ice buckets wasn’t going to put out the fire traveling fast along the starboard wall. The room was filling up with smoke.
Choking, McCullough gasped, “This isn’t going to work. Seems like we’re still under power, so you need to get up to the wheelhouse and see what’s going on. I’ll get A. J. out of here. The blast came from starboard at the stern, so I’m going to try to get him up into one of the bow staterooms.”
“Are you sure?” Swain asked. “I’m stronger, I can drag him easier.”
“No. You’re a better pilot. The stern steps are on fire. You’re going to have to do some running around to get up there. Go.”
The pilots and the Chief Engineer had interior staterooms on the third-class deck. Enclosed in the middle of these four staterooms was a small stairwell, for private use only by them, that went up all three decks to the pilothouse. The only access to these stairs were from interior doors in the staterooms, for Zedekiah Wainwright wisely knew that if passengers had a stairway to get to the pilothouse, no amount of monitoring would keep them out.
Swain went out into the hallway, and he saw that it was as black as midnight, filled with choking smoke. But he saw no flames—yet—so he went to the servants’ stairwell on the bow side and flung himself down it, taking three steps at a time. He continually cursed under his breath, because he was running down, when he needed to be running up. But he couldn’t think of anything else to do.
He came out of the servants’ hall into the corridor where the third-class staterooms were. Men and women were running up and down, crazily, in blind panic, screaming and shouting and pushing each other. As soon as Swain stepped into the hall he was knocked down by two young men who bowled right into him, stepped on him when he fell, and kept running. Swain got up and savagely pushed everyone else who got close to him, even women, and finally fought his way to his stateroom door. He went inside, noting in the back of his mind that there was no evidence of any fire down here; the air was clear. Jerking open the small door into the private stairwell, he bounded up them. As he came up onto the level of the Texas Deck, his heart sank. The stairwell was filling with smoke. Fighting his way up, he saw. Up on the Hurricane Deck, at the top right by the pilothouse, the steps were on fire. Joshua Swain went four steps down, then took a running start and launched himself through the flames.
THE RAILING ON BOTH the second-class and third-class promenades was lined with people from bow to stern, watching as the Queen steamed majestically into her home port. As they rounded the C. J. Berkeley and started their turn, they could plainly see the huge crowd gathered on the
docks to meet them. Even though the boat wasn’t yet within earshot of the docks, people started cheering. Men waved their hats. Women pointed out the Queen’s home berth to their children.
Then the world exploded.
The Queen of Bohemia’s orientation was that she had two boats between her and the Matoaka Maiden, and she was making a left-hand turn away from her and was therefore at an angle. The brunt of the explosion hit the starboard stern side of the Queen. The Matoaka Maiden blew up and out. Because there were two sizable boats between the Queen and her, some of the lateral force was blocked, so that the lower decks of the Queen didn’t sustain much concussion damage. But she was also two decks higher than the surrounding boats, so the starboard side of the second-class deck, the Salon Deck, and the first-class deck, the Texas Deck, toward the stern, sustained the worst damage and was hit by more of the flaming debris.
One hundred twelve people were standing along the Salon Deck railing. Six people were killed by the blast, all of them standing at the stern starboard end of the Salon Deck promenade. Of the approximately fifty people standing close to them, eighteen were critically injured, while everyone was knocked down and many sustained broken bones and severe concussions. Almost everyone had some scrape or wrenched muscles.
On the third-class deck below, fifty-two passengers lined the railing on the promenade. Half of them, closest to the stern, were knocked all the way to the deck, while the rest were staggered by the blast. One passenger, a young man, was killed, when his head hit the wall behind him with such force that it broke his neck.
Denny and Zedekiah Wainwright were standing at the open doors of the Moravian Salon, behind the passengers lining the railing. Both of them were knocked backward about three feet. When they recovered from the shock, passengers were already starting to panic, running around aimlessly. Denny and his uncle, aided by General Banks and his aides, and some other men who kept their heads, started trying to corral them and direct them to go down to the main cargo deck by way of the Grand Entrance stairway. They then discovered that one piece of burning debris had shot into the opening down on the second deck, and the steps were on fire on that level. Denny organized the porters and stewards into a bucket brigade. Wainwright and the other men started assisting the wounded, carrying them into the salon. It wasn’t long before Captain Humphries reported on the situation to Wainwright.
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