by Evelyn Weiss
the ship. The growlers are little gray floats of ice, hundreds of them, each only a few feet across. They are specks in the vast ocean, and they are flat and low: they hardly rise above the surface of the water. But sometimes, they scrape along the side of the ship. The friction, the movement, it makes this wolf-noise. Sinister, like being out in the woods on a moonlit night and hearing wolves growling. I don’t like it, but I tell myself it’s nothing. ‘It’s nothing’ Chisholm says. He looks across the cabin at Blanche. ‘Blanche, why don’t you lie down, it will help your headache. Agnes and I will play chess.’
‘I don’t want to lie down, Chisholm. I feel uneasy, not right. Mutton never agrees with me, you know that. But I’ll try lying down, just to show you. I’ll lie down, for half an hour.’”
“Agnes, where is Kitty Murray?”
“Blanche doesn’t need her, and Chisholm has given her the evening off. She’s amusing herself, somewhere on the ship. She loves it, it all seems like such a big adventure to her.”
“So there are just the three of you in the room. Blanche is lying on the bed, and you and Chisholm are playing chess?”
“Yes. We’re playing chess now. Chisholm has just captured my knight. He makes some joke, and we’re both laughing, and I knock a pawn off the board with my elbow. I bend to pick it up, and he does too. And we bang heads under the table, and we laugh again. And I sense that Blanche wouldn’t approve, but I think she’s gone to sleep on the bed.”
“What are you drinking?”
“There’s some water in a carafe. The cabin stewards have put a carafe of wine for us, too, but I never touch it. Chisholm pours me another glass of water.”
“So you sit at the table, and play chess, all evening.”
“Yes. I’ve put Chisholm in check now, and I’m smiling. I take another drink of water, and Chisholm refills my glass. And I need to use the bathroom, only for a moment. I say ‘Excuse me’ to Chisholm.
I go into the bathroom of our suite. It’s next to the door out onto the corridor. And as I shut the door, and fiddle with my clothes, I hear our cabin door opening, and a voice outside in the corridor.
A faultless English accent. ‘Excuse me, sir. Is this the cabin of Viscount Percy Spence?’
I hear Chisholm’s voice, replying. ‘I’m sorry, sir, it isn’t. I believe that the Viscount’s cabin is that one, next door.’ Then I hear nothing more. I finish my business in the bathroom and return to the chess table. It’s late, and Chisholm and I decide to call it a draw. We put the pieces away, and I say goodnight to Chisholm and go into my little room.
I’m lying in bed. I hear the growlers again in my dreams, mixed up with the voice of the stranger at our door, and Chisholm’s voice, answering him. And I’m half-awake now, and half-asleep, and I turn over in bed, and the noises and the voices carry on, all together, talking and growling. They voices seem cross with each other, like an argument starting. Nasty sounds – scraping, rumbling, juddering outside the cabin and all along the side of the ship. Like someone’s running a cheese-grater down the side of the Titanic, catching on every rivet, on all the metal plates. Snagging and tearing. And then – it’s completely quiet.
Silent as the grave.”
“I’m waking, Chisholm is in our cabin, he’s saying get dressed, we need to leave the cabin, something is happening. He waits in his room while Blanche and I dress hurriedly. At the last moment I pull my warm travelling coat from its hook and wrap it around me as we open the cabin door. But we can’t even get out of the cabin. In the corridor outside our cabin are crowds of people: scared faces. Many are wearing lifebelts. Then the crowd moves, and we step out into the corridor. As we follow the people, Chisholm is explaining to us. ‘The ship is damaged. We’ve been told that we need to go to the lifeboats.’
I look into his and Blanche’s faces. I hear my own voice.
‘Where’s Kitty?’
‘We don’t know.’
‘I’m going to go back and find her.’
Chisholm is firm. ‘No. We must all stay together.’
As we reach the Grand Staircase, I argue back at him. ‘Yes. We must all stay together. ‘We’ includes Kitty.’
Now, I see Blanche’s lips moving. Angrily. ‘Kitty’s a servant. Leave her, we must stick together.’
‘Well, I guess I’m a kind of servant too. So, I’m going to find Kitty. I’ll see you on the Boat Deck in two minutes. If I don’t come back, you both get into the nearest lifeboat, and I’ll get into a different one.’”
I see the professor’s face, and Gwyneth’s, and the professor’s cabin, and Officer Bass standing there, leaning against the wall. They’re lit only by a flashlight that the professor has switched on. The professor is speaking to me, but it’s Chisholm’s voice that I’m hearing, and the professor’s cabin looks dim and faint, not quite real, as if I’m looking at it through glass. But here, on my side of the glass, I feel crushed by crowds, there are people all around me, pale, breathless, anxious to climb the Grand Staircase, to reach the Boat Deck. And now I see Gwyneth opening her mouth to speak, but it’s Blanche’s voice I hear, saying ‘Leave her. Forget about Kitty, stay with us Agnes, you foolish girl.’
I’m going to look for Kitty. I start to get up from the bed.
I hear a voice, and I’ve no idea who’s speaking. “Stay with us. Please, stay with us.” My eyes are wide open, and I see Professor Axelson, his eyes, his lips moving. But his voice, his manner, is Chisholm’s – strong and tall among the crowds as we step out at last onto the Boat Deck. And I see Gwyneth too, her hand is on my shoulder, holding me from rising from the bed and going to search for Kitty. Gwyneth opens her mouth to speak again, but the air is cut with the shrill edge of Blanche’s voice.
‘Chisholm! We must get onto a lifeboat, now. Look at the queues. People are starting to jostle and fight.’
‘Don’t panic, my dear. Keep calm. Let’s just get in line, we will get aboard one of these boats alright.’
We all hear a voice ring out like a church bell. ‘Women and children only into this lifeboat! You men, can you please hold back!’
I see Gwyneth’s face, but again the voice is Blanche’s. ‘Chisholm. Take me to the lifeboats. Now.’
Chisholm pushes into the crowd, his strong arms push the bodies aside, creating a space for Blanche and I to follow him. Blanche clings close behind him. There are shouts of fear now, and I hear one woman screaming in terror. But amid the press of pushing humanity, and the tangible smell of fear that comes from each body, each face, each open mouth, I hear a still, calm voice.
“In this hypnotic state, it is safer for Miss Agnes if we let her get up. She may walk about the room if she wills it. Let her go, Gwyneth.”
I’ve got up from the bed, I’m standing now, and I take a step forward. I’ve got to find Kitty. My hand is gripping the handle of the professor’s cabin door.
“Officer Bass, can you go with Miss Frocester if she needs to leave the cabin? Keep her safe: in this state, she may not properly see obstacles: she may trip and fall.”
“I can’t do that, sir. My orders are to stay with you.” But I’m turning the handle, the door is opening onto the corridor. I hear the voice again. “Well let me go with Miss Frocester then, to look after her. To make sure she doesn’t fall. Just for one minute.”
Was that Axelson or Chisholm speaking?
‘No, Chisholm! You’re my brother! Stay here with me, you beastly coward. Take me to the boats, now. Let Agnes go if she must, the foolish girl.’
Like a half-remembered dream or a distant echo in a cave, I can hear the professor and Gwyneth, arguing with Bass that someone must accompany me along the corridor. And Bass is refusing to help, and I have a vague sense that he is holding the professor back from following me. I can see right across the Boat Deck, and an officer, one of the ship’s officers, is holding crowds of men back. ‘Please, gentlemen! Woman and children only!’ Through a sea of heads and a wall of shouts and screams I see a lifeboat staring to be lowered towards the
sea. I see Chisholm’s outstretched arms helping Blanche into the moving lifeboat as it sways. Her white dress moves around her, crumples, settles into the boat. Somehow the scene is peaceful, like when you drop a handkerchief and it floats down to the floor.
Blanche has not released Chisholm’s hand. The boat drops another foot and Chisholm is bent right over the rail. I hear a voice ‘There is room for one in the lifeboat, sir. Go with the lady.’
Chisholm drops heavily into the lifeboat, and a moment later it slides down the ropes, over the side of the ship and out of my view. I can see hardly anything: all around me are tall men, shunting me along. I’m level with their shoulders: elbows bruise my chest and one arm slaps across my face. Most of the men are wearing lifebelts, which crush around my chest and my back. A heavy boot steps on my ankle, I winch in pain and stumble. Another elbow strikes my back like a heavy punch, and I slip, I’m lying on the deck, surrounded by a forest of legs, all moving, jostling. No-one even notices me. I see another boot coming down towards my face: I slide across the varnished decking, away from the lethal press of struggling limbs. Sliding along, here and there, through scuffling boots – while above me, I hear cries, shouts, voices in terror. I keep pushing along the deck.
At last, it’s a little quieter, away from the throng, and I hear, like a half-forgotten sound, Officer