'Yes, of course.'
'One day, will you take the Titanic home to Belfast?'
Captain Smith looked surprised. 'I thought you were going to ask for money.'
'I would have,' said Jimmy, 'but it appears to be worthless at the moment.'
The Captain smiled. He took Jimmy by the shoulders and looked into his eyes. 'One day, I promise, the Titanic will return to Belfast.'
Jimmy put out his hand. 'OK, as long as we have the freedom to write it as we see it, if we have unlimited access to every meeting, every decision, every event, then I'm happy to accept.'
Captain Smith hesitated. 'Why do I have the feeling I'm going to regret this?'
Jimmy gave an innocent shrug.
The Captain shook his head, then instead of offering his hand, saluted. Jimmy, somewhat awkwardly, followed suit.
***
As they emerged on to Deck Two Jimmy and Claire spotted the two small landing parties preparing to go ashore. One, led by Jonas Jones, would go straight to the fuel depot and attempt to replenish the ship's supplies. The other, led by First Officer Jeffers, had less specific instructions — just to find out the conditions in the city. Jeffers was passing out weapons to members of his eight-man squad when Jimmy and Claire lined up with them.
'And where do you think you're going?' he asked.
'Ashore, with you,' said Jimmy.
'Reporting,' said Claire, 'for the Titanic Times.' She held up her camera.
'We'll see about that.'
Jeffers lifted his radio and turned away. They couldn't quite make out what was said, but when he faced them a couple of minutes later he looked rather flushed.
'All right,' he said, 'but stay close, and if I tell you to do something, you damned well do it.'
***
A single gangplank was lowered on to the quayside. Jeffers' squad cautiously made its way off the ship first, with guns raised. When it had secured the immediate area, Jonas Jones' squad followed and was then escorted to the fuel depot. Once Jeffers was satisfied that there was no immediate threat Jones' group was left with a single guard to undertake the refuelling. The rest of Jeffers' squad commandeered two abandoned vehicles and drove towards the centre of the city.
Jimmy and Claire were in the rear of the second vehicle, a Jeep. Jimmy was still wearing Ty's T-shirt. Claire was looking altogether cooler in a red T-shirt with a long white skirt. As they roared along she took photos of smouldering shops and wrecked cars. The most remarkable thing here was the complete and utter lack of people. There was no noise, but for the occasional bark of a dog.
'Where is everyone?' Claire asked.
'Maybe they fled the city because of the plague. Or they're all dead.'
'There's one and a half million people live in San Juan. They can't all be dead.' She paused. 'Can they? There'd be bodies everywhere.'
The smoke was bitter and harsh on their throats. Everything smelled rotten.
Jeffers, driving the lead vehicle, led them along Calle Cruz towards City Hall. There they left two men to guard the vehicles and mounted the steps into what had been the seat of Government. Their footsteps echoed on the marble floor. Papers were littered everywhere. But still no sign of anyone. When they returned to their vehicles Jeffers took out a street map. 'The smoke . . . seems to be coming from . . . here . . .' The section of the map he was pointing to was marked as the historic fortress of San Cristobal, situated on high ground to the east of the city but invisible now because of the smoke. 'Perhaps it's some kind of a signal fire. We should check it out.'
Progress was slow because of the increasing number of abandoned vehicles on the road, and soon the smoke grew so dense that Claire gave up trying to take photographs and concentrated on holding the neck of her T-shirt up over her mouth. The crewman in the front passenger seat passed back a bottle of water for them to wash their stinging eyes.
As they wound up the road towards the fortress the wind at last began to change direction and they soon emerged from the turgid smoke into the summer sun. Jeffers stopped his Jeep in the shadow of a high wall at the rear of the fortress and the second vehicle pulled in behind. Even from the outside, they could feel the intense heat being given off by the fire within. Jimmy climbed out and put his hands against the wall, which appeared to be a metre or so thick, yet was hot to the touch.
Jeffers left two guards with the vehicles then led the rest of them up a set of stone steps to a metal gate which should have given them access to the fortress's central courtyard, but was bolted closed from the inside Jeffers rattled the gate in frustration, then took a step back and looked along the wall for some other means of access.
Jimmy said, 'I'm the lightest. Give me a hand up and I'll get over and open it from the inside.'
'Actually, I'm the lightest,' said Claire.
Jeffers looked from one to the other. 'Let me see — the stowaway or the daughter of the owner of the ship. Mmmm. Let's go for the stowaway.'
Two of the squad gave Jimmy a lift up. The climb was easy enough, but was complicated by the barbed wire strung across the top. As he contemplated the best way to get through it, he tried to identify the source of the heat, but the breeze circulating within the walls was blowing smoke in every direction and for the moment he could see nothing. Jimmy pulled at several strands of the barbed wire and managed to prise them apart. He slipped one leg through the gap and followed with the rest of his body, then lowered himself part of the way down the other side of the wall while pulling his other leg through behind. He was almost cleanly over when his shoelace snagged and he found himself hanging in midair; he pulled once, twice, then on the third attempt ripped it free. The force of it caused him to fall hard on to the concrete rampart below, knocking the wind out of him, and forcing an involuntary cry from his lips.
'Jimmy — are you all right?' Jeffers called from the other side.
'Ugggggggghhhhhhhh . . . yes. I think so.'
He was sore, but nothing seemed to be broken.
'Open the door then!'
'All right — hold on to your . . .'
He stopped. The wind had changed direction again, clearing enough of the smoke to give Jimmy his first proper view of the inferno below. The base of the fire not only covered almost the entire circumference of the courtyard, it was also built up several metres high. A steady roar came from the blazing heap and there was a staccato popping and snapping as branches splintered and split.
Then he realized that they weren't branches.
They were bones.
Thousands of them, twisted and broken.
He saw skulls, with flames licking through hollow eye sockets.
White hands opening and closing in the heat. Fingers pointing . . . pointing at him.
'Oh my . . . oh my . . .' Jimmy whispered.
'Jimmy! Open the door!'
Still dazed by the horrific sight before him, Jimmy nodded vaguely and began to turn — and then his heart almost stopped.
A man stood before him, with a rifle raised and pointing at him. His skin was almost translucent, his eyes were red and raw, his hair matted. He wore a military uniform blackened with smoke and ripped and stained by unknown fluids.
'Who are you?' the soldier demanded, his voice raspy and jagged. 'What are you doing here?' He jabbed the gun at Jimmy.
Jimmy held his hands up. 'I . . . I . . . I . . .' He pointed vaguely towards the sea. 'The ship . . . I'm from the ship . . .'
The man didn't even look. He was mad with panic and fear. His finger was already curled around the trigger and his hand was shaking. All of him was shaking.
'This is . . . Government property! You are not . . . allowed here!'
'Jimmy!' Jeffers shouted from the other side. 'What's going on?' The man's eyes rolled back in his head.
'Please,' said Jimmy, 'we're here to help, we can take you . . .'
The man opened his mouth to speak again, but no sound would come. He was racked by a sudden coughing fit; the force of it bent him over and he d
ropped the gun. He sank to his knees and toppled backwards, thumping into the back wall. Jimmy turned quickly and unbolted the gate. Jeffers, with his gun drawn, was the first through. He immediately pushed Jimmy to other side and covered the fallen guard with his weapon. Another crewman kicked the dropped rifle over the edge of the rampart into the flames below.
Claire came running up to Jimmy. 'Are you all right?'
Instead of speaking, Jimmy nodded towards the fire. The other squad members were noticing as well.
'Oh my God,' said Claire. 'There must be . . .'
'Take a photo,' said Jimmy.
'I can't . . . they . . .'
'You have to.'
Claire took a deep breath. She nodded. 'I'll climb . . . higher. A better angle . . .'
Jimmy helped her up on to the wall and held her shins as she steadied herself and began to take her pictures.
***
Jeffers knelt beside the sick man and gave him a drink of water. He gulped greedily from the plastic bottle then splashed some over his face. Jimmy had thought he was an old man, but as the ash and dirt washed away he realized that he probably wasn't much more than eighteen or nineteen.
'What happened here?' Jeffers asked gently.
'My commander, he orders . . . burn the dead . . . but they just . . . kept coming . . .!'
'Where is your commander now?'
'He . . . didn't come back . . .' The guard stared down at the inferno below. 'Ten thousand . . . I counted. Ten thousand . . .'
'Where have the rest of the people gone?'
The guard was started to drift away. Jeffers gave him a gentle shake. 'Where are they? Where did they go?'
The guard's burning eyes flicked up. 'They haven't gone . . . anywhere . . .'
He looked towards the fortress walls, then he was wracked by another coughing fit and slumped down again.
Claire had finished photographing the huge funeral pyre. She turned to look down over the city. The smoke was slowly drifting to the south, and as it thinned out over the harbour the Titanic began to emerge. Claire raised her camera and took a picture. She noticed some movement around the gangplank but couldn't quite identify it, so she increased the magnification. For a moment she didn't understand what she was seeing. The whole area around the dock seemed to be moving; then there were short flashes of light. She increased the magnification once more — and then she let out an involuntary cry.
'What — what is it?' Jimmy shouted up. But she could only stand and stare. Jimmy heaved himself up on to the top of the wall. Claire handed him the camera. All she could say was, 'The ship . . .'
Jimmy took just a moment to focus in. The ship . . . the gangplank . . . and hundreds . . . no thousands of people packed around it, trying to force their way on board. There were flashes of light — gunfire — both from the ship and from the quayside. Jimmy raked the camera right along the length of the dock and back towards the city . . . people were emerging from houses carrying suitcases and bags and pushing prams loaded with possessions, all of them moving as quickly as they could in the direction of the Titanic.
He swung back to the ship and saw the gangplank begin to move backwards, hurling a number of people into the water. As it was drawn fully on to the ship there were several more gun flashes . . . and then there was a mighty blast of the ship's horn that seemed to roll towards them across the city. First Officer Jeffers looked up from the rampart.
'What is it, Jimmy?'
'It's the Titanic! She's leaving!'
25
A Rum Situation
There was no doubt about it, the Titanic was definitely leaving. Her sleek white form was slowly making its way out of San Juan harbour, much to the distress of all those left behind on the dock — not to mention those watching from the ramparts of the fortress of San Cristobal.
'Do you think it was a trap?' Jimmy asked. 'They set fire to lure us in, waited until we docked, then rushed to the ship?'
First Officer Jeffers, who was watching the scene through a pair of binoculars, shook his head. He could see that thousands were still making their way through the streets of the city towards the dock. 'I would be surprised if it was that organized. I think they were all hiding out of fear of catching the plague: they've probably been without food or power or water: and maybe word spread that we'd come to rescue them and they couldn't help themselves.'
'Well shouldn't we be rescuing them?' Claire asked.
'I'm sure Captain Smith took the first few on board, but there's no way we could cope with that many — it would be a disaster. He's quite right to sail away — and we'd be with him if it wasn't for a certain idiot.' Jeffers turned and glared at a sheepish-looking Petty Officer Benson, who was supposed to have maintained contact with the ship, but had instead dropped the only radio and smashed it — and then hadn't confessed in the hope that they'd get back on board without anyone noticing. Jimmy was just relieved that for once he wasn't getting blamed for something.
'They're not just going to leave us, are they?' Claire asked.
'They might leave me,' said Jimmy, 'but they definitely won't leave you.'
They took a final look down at the massive funeral pyre, then Jeffers led them back out of the fortress to the vehicles. They took the emaciated guard, Miguel, with them. He kept saying thank you, thank you, thank you. Eventually one of the squad said, 'Thank us if we get back to the ship.'
'Thank you,' said Miguel.
***
Instead of heading for the docks, Jeffers, with a map folded out on his lap, led them out of the city and on to a road heading west towards a town called Dorado. The plan was to get to what would hopefully be a less crowded harbour there and commandeer a boat capable of getting them out to the Titanic.
They had travelled less than a mile when Benson said, 'Sir, we're being followed.'
Everyone looked back. There was no mistaking it. Three cars.
'Maybe they're just out for a drive,' said Jimmy.
A moment later the first gunshot pinged into the road just to their left.
'And may be they're not,' said Claire.
'Step on it,' said Jeffers.
The two Jeeps accelerated, and their pursuers followed suit. It became a race, twisting through abandoned vehicles and careering across sidewalks. Jimmy and Claire were glad that they'd swapped Jeeps, as their original vehicle, now at the back, seemed to be attracting most of the gunfire.
'What do they want?' Jimmy shouted.
Before Jeffers could respond he suddenly swung the Jeep to one side. The road ahead was blocked by several cars. At first this seemed like just another obstacle to get round — but then a shot shattered their windshield. Claire screamed and ducked down. So did Jimmy. They weren't abandoned vehicles — they'd been deliberately placed there!
The second Jeep braked too quickly — veering up on to two wheels and then toppling over on to its side. The four crewmen scrambled out and tugged Miguel after them before racing across towards Jeffers' jeep. But just as they reached it another shot rang out and one of them fell, clutching his leg. Jeffers stood up in his seat, drew his gun and fired three times towards the road block, then swivelled and fired twice at the small pursuing convoy as it bore down on them. The shot crewman was picked up by two of his comrades and helped on board. Then they sped off in the direction they'd come, hopelessly overcrowded now and heading straight for their pursuers. Jeffers kept his foot on the pedal, refusing to budge until the very last moment when he threw the Jeep to one side. It mounted the sidewalk with a heavy thud but kept going, passing by the line of pursuing vehicles at speed, with all of them doing their best to keep their heads down and limbs tucked in as gunshots peppered the vehicle.
Several hundred metres further along, and with their enemies, whoever they were, already turning their own vehicles to continue the pursuit, Jeffers steered them into a side road. He was hoping to find an alternative means of escape — but immediately they saw that it too was blocked, this time by a large truck, lying
on its side, its cargo of hundreds of crates of bottles lying smashed around it. The entire area stank of alcohol. Nor was there any going back. The convoy in pursuit was just turning into the side road as well, and had spread out to cover both lanes. Jeffers remained admirably calm — he saw a large set of closed iron gates on his right, topped by a giant Bacardi sign and set into a wall at least two metres high which ran as far as they could see in either direction.
Jeffers aimed the Jeep and roared towards the gates. 'Hold on!' he shouted.
Jimmy felt his whole body jar as their vehicle crashed through the gates and then skidded to a halt.
'OK!' Jeffers shouted. 'Close them up quick! Prepare to repel!'
Two of the crewmen dashed for the gates even as the pursuing convoy raced towards them. The others took up shooting positions and began to fire at the onrushing vehicles. One immediately veered off and crashed into the overturned truck, another braked suddenly, causing two cars following behind to crash into each other and it.
With their immediate entrance blocked, the remaining vehicles came to a halt on the far side of the road. Drivers and passengers slipped out and took up more protected positions behind them. Jeffers drew his crewmen back from the gate to the Jeep, and they all crouched in behind it. Behind them there was a steep grass bank which boasted several thick bushes, and it was behind one of these that they laid the shot crewman. Claire ripped off part of his torn trouser leg and turned it into a rough bandage. Then, not forgetting her new job, took some photographs of her handiwork.
The private road they were on led back towards a large group of buildings, several hundred metres away. Jeffers was peering towards them, trying to decide if they might make a better hiding place, when Jimmy nudged his arm.
'It's where they make Bacardi rum,' he said. 'I wrote about it for the paper. It's famous all over the world. It usually costs ten dollars to take a tour and you get two free drinks.'
'Thanks, Jimmy,' said Jeffers, 'you're a mine of useless information.'
'HEY!'
The voice came from beyond the gate. A man was approaching, with his hands raised.
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