So Long At the Fair

by Jess Foley

  The steamer’s lights had at some time been lit and, turning to Jane again, Abbie could see the warm glow of the red port lamp reflected in her cheek. Her mind was in turmoil. Carefully she said, choosing her words, ‘I want to tell you how thankful I am that we’ve met again. That day in the park in London – I was angry and hurt, and I said things I should not have said. Things that were . . . not true.’ Then, speaking from the heart, she went on, ‘I have no doubt at all that it’s you whom Arthur loves. It’s you – only you. And always has been. Perhaps at an earlier time he was fond of me, but it was not love. It was never love. And then you came along – and for you his feelings were real. They are real.’

  At Abbie’s words there was a look of gratitude in Jane’s eyes and Abbie could not bear it, for she had granted no favours. What she had said was nothing but the simple truth. And Arthur too had been speaking the truth: even if he had at one time felt deep affection for Abbie, those feelings had been as nothing compared with the love that he had come to feel for Jane. Abbie might have chosen to believe otherwise, but she had based her reasoning on pretence and now, at long last, the time of pretending was over. She had to deal with what was real. ‘Jane – I caused you unhappiness,’ she said. ‘Can you forgive me?’

  Jane reached out her hand and Abbie took it, clasped it.

  They stood like that for some seconds, then came the sound of Arthur’s voice coming to them out of the general hubbub.

  ‘Well – I finally got it.’

  Drawing apart, they turned and saw him standing nearby holding a tray with glasses of lemonade while he glanced uncertainly from one to the other.

  ‘Is everything all right?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes.’ Jane smiled. ‘We’re fine.’

  There was a look of relief on his face. As he handed Jane a glass, she turned to Abbie and said, ‘Will you have some lemonade, Abbie? Take Emma’s. We’ll get her some more when she comes back.’

  ‘No, really, thank you.’ Abbie said. She felt suddenly preoccupied; she needed time to think. ‘I must go and find Louis. Will you excuse me . . .?’

  ‘Yes, go and find him,’ Jane said. ‘Bring him back. We’d love to meet him.’

  Abbie started away. Over on the bandstand the two clergymen still stood, leading the singing. She could see no sign of Alfred and Iris. Perhaps they had gone down to the saloon for refreshment. In any case they were not her immediate concern. Turning, she looked back to where Jane and Arthur stood side by side at the rail. Seeing them there together, so happy, she wondered again how, even for a moment, she could have contemplated destroying their happiness. What object would it have served? None at all. And it would also have destroyed any chance she might have had of future peace of mind, for she would never have been able to forgive herself or live with her guilt.

  She remained there, watching the happy couple, her view of them intermittently cut off by the people who moved back and forth before her. Arthur had said that people should be careful of what they hankered after, for they might get what they wished for. ‘What would you do,’ he had asked, ‘if I came to you and said “I’m yours, Abbie – I love only you”? What would you do?’

  Yes – what would she have done? If he had indeed come to her and said ‘I am yours’ – what would she have done? After all, it was what she had said she wanted. But she now knew that it was not. The knowledge came to her in a rush, like a blast of cold air – and as one fragment of understanding was formed so it led to the forming of another. She heard Arthur saying: I don’t think you ever did – truly love me. And she knew, without question, that it was so. Of course. That was why she had rejected his offer of marriage – using her mother’s return as an excuse to do so. But it had been a lie. The true reason was not her mother’s return; it had been due to the fact that she did not love him.

  Her mind was whirling, almost unable to keep up with the thoughts that crowded in. Now so much was making sense. Now she could see why she had pursued Arthur so obsessively. She had known all along that he loved only Jane, had known that he would never leave Jane for her – and yet she had continued to pursue him, while all the time aware in her heart that it was a lost cause. But why should she have done such a thing? Then the added realization came: it was precisely because she had felt safe in her pursuit of Arthur – for in her heart she had known that he would never be hers.

  But why should she only dare to offer affection where it could not be returned?

  Was she afraid of love?

  And then all at once Louis was in her mind again. Louis – it had to do with him. But what? No matter how she wrestled with the question, it was as if there were some barrier in her brain, some part of her subconscious that refused to allow any profound delving. Yet it was there. A thought suddenly came to her: her pursuance of Arthur – it had prevented her from committing herself to her marriage – stopped her from giving to Louis the love that he had so much wanted, so much needed. The love that had been rightfully his.

  Louis . . . She had to find him.

  She looked around, saw a companionway leading down to the lower deck and started towards it. As she did so she heard the sound of a man’s voice, yelling out in the evening air, above the noise of the throng:

  ‘Hi! Hi! Where are you going to?’ And then again ‘Hi, there! Where are you going to?’

  She came to a halt, glanced towards the sound and saw that it had come from the captain as he stood on the bridge, his voice amplified by the loud hailer he was holding. Along with all the other passengers who had heard, she looked over to see the object of his warning and in the dusk saw, about two hundred yards away off the starboard side, the dark shape of a tall screw steamer coming towards them.

  The sight caused no fear in her; nor did it appear to among the other passengers; they were in good hands; no harm could come to them. Was not the London Steamship Company’s safety record one of the finest? Did not the company’s steamers sail the Thames day in and day out without mishap? And, as Alfred had so proudly said, the Princess Alice was the pride of the fleet. Built of iron, measuring two hundred and nineteen feet in length, and weighing a hundred and sixty tons, she was far too sturdy to be at risk. Turning from the sight, Abbie continued on her way. Louis, she must find him.

  Like Abbie, after an initial glance in the direction of the steamer, most of the passengers began to resume their business, carrying on their conversations and their round-the-deck strolls, while the children got back to their games. At the same time the two clergymen who had been leading the hymn singing began the interrupted verse over again. But then, above all the other sounds came the captain’s cry once again, and this time louder, and touched with a dark, contagious fear:

  ‘Where are you going to? Can you hear me? Hi! Hi! For God’s sake, you’ll be down upon us –!’

  At the captain’s cry, Abbie again came to a stop. Then after a moment’s hesitation she changed direction and moved back across the deck to where Jane and Arthur stood at the rail. When she reached them, Jane held out a hand to her. Abbie took it and the three of them moved a little closer to the bridge. As they did so, Abbie was aware that other passengers were doing the same.

  Standing close to the starboard paddle box Abbie, along with Jane and Arthur, watched as the steam-screw collier drew closer. And as they did so she became aware that the carefree chatter, the singing and the games had ceased. A muttering passed through the crowd, the sound interjected with brief spates of nervous laughter and would-be witty comments from some of the young men who would brave out the threatened danger – for surely, even now, there could be no real peril.

  But still the boat came on. And now, from many of the passengers there began to rise up little gasps and cries of fear. Abbie heard Jane give a murmured cry, while from a man on her left came the fearful, muttered words: ‘God Almighty, it’s comin’ right into us.’ Eyes wide with growing horror, Abbie stood transfixed, watching the vessel’s inexorable approach.

  Moving swiftly with the tide
, the cargo boat came on. A hundred and fifty yards . . . a hundred and forty . . . Towering high above the low decks of the paddle steamer she came closer still – and now on her bows could be read her name: Bywell Castle.

  The point of her prow was heading directly for the side of the slow-moving Princess Alice. Sixty yards . . . fifty . . . Cries of fear and shouts of warning to the oncoming collier rose up from the throats of the steamboat passengers – hundreds of voices raised, shouting out for the approaching boat to beware – while at the same time there came warning cries from the high decks of the collier herself.

  Forty yards . . . thirty-five . . .

  As the Bywell Castle drew nearer, those on the pleasure boat shrank back, trying to move away from the threatening danger. But there could be no escape. It was too late. Although by this time the engines of the Bywell Castle had been switched to full astern there was neither time nor space for the vessel to stop. Carried on by her momentum on the swift-flowing tide and her own vast weight, she ploughed on.

  Seeing that a collision was now inevitable, the panic-stricken passengers of the Princess Alice began to run. Turning, crying out, they dashed away, heading for the forward and after sections, while at the same time some of those on the upper decks headed for the lower. In just seconds the companionways were choked with desperate, terrified people.

  ‘Emma!’ cried Jane. ‘Where is Emma!’ In the next moment Arthur was snatching at her hand and, along with other passengers, was making a scrambling dash towards the stern. As they ran, however, a man came from behind and burst between them, breaking the link of their clutching hands. Others followed immediately, swiftly driving wider the wedge of their separation. Seconds behind them, Abbie too reached the rail overlooking the after part of the lower deck. Jane, she found, was close by, though she saw that Arthur had become separated from them, and with the crowd between growing denser by the second, had no opportunity to rejoin them.

  Turning back to look at the approaching danger, Abbie watched as the shrieking, yelling passengers continued to run in terror before the oncoming vessel, many of them falling over each other in their panic. And the coal steamer ploughed on.

  Twenty yards . . . fifteen . . . ten . . . five . . .

  The Bywell Castle struck the Alice amidships, her sharp cutwater smashing through the starboard paddle box and into the hull itself, the blow so violent that the pleasure steamer was pushed some distance before the Castle’s prow. Then the collier, still moving forward, struck her again.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  The shock of the initial impact was so violent that many on board were thrown headlong to the deck. And even as they climbed to their feet, momentarily winded and stunned, there came the second shock as the Alice was struck once more.

  At first there was hope in every heart that the pleasure steamer would withstand the impact and, although terribly maimed, would nevertheless stay afloat – at least long enough for the lifeboats to be manned and for help to come from other river craft. Such hopes were soon dashed, however. In spite of her iron hull, the Alice was as matchwood against the power and weight of the Bywell Castle and amid the deafening sounds of the smashing of glass, the tearing of iron and timber and the shrieking of her eight hundred passengers, the stricken vessel broke in two.

  Standing at the rail, Abbie could see that the screw’s head had smashed right through the paddle box and between the funnels, and seeing the extent of the damage she knew there was no chance that the pleasure boat could remain afloat. Turning, she saw that several men had run aft to lower one of the two lifeboats. She watched as they got the boat down, but as they lowered it to the water a crowd of people surged forward and began to scramble into it. To her horror she saw the lifeboat turn over, throwing its passengers into the dark waters of the river.

  Pressing as far back from the broken centre of the steamboat as they could possibly get, people watched as the shattered ends of the doomed craft sank deeper into the water. The after part was the first to succumb, and as its broken centre section sank beneath the dark, flowing water, so its stern was lifted up. Feeling the decks rising up beneath their feet the terrified people let out great cries of fear. Abbie screamed out to Jane, ‘Hold on!’ As the stern and the prow rose higher there was a general scramble to gain handholds. There was not enough space at the rails, however, and those who had nothing to hold on to began to slip on the sloping deck and slide down its incline. Some of them came up against the funnels, and tried to cling on there. Others slid down into the water and the certain death that awaited them in the tangle of iron and timber at the broken centre part of the vessel.

  Numbers of people on the upper deck were clambering over the rail and jumping down onto the deck below. A few others were attempting to climb a rope up towards the saloon deck in order to try to gain access to a ladder that hung down the side of the Bywell Castle. Had only one or two made the attempt it might have worked, but in seconds there were seven or eight clinging to the rope. Abbie watched as it broke and the men were pitched into the water, some of them being dashed against the side of the saloon as they fell. Others, seeing certain doom if they remained on board, began to leap into the river to get as far from the sinking boat as was possible.

  In seconds the river’s surface was teeming with people struggling to stay afloat. The screams of the women and children all around Abbie were unlike anything she had ever heard in her life before, a sound that she herself added to with her own cries of terror. Clinging to the rail on the high-tilting stern, she heard herself cry out ‘Louis!’ but it was a vain cry; not only did she not know where he was, but even had she known he would not have been able to help her.

  With each passing second the stern of the broken vessel lurched higher above the surface of the water, bringing choruses of screams from the terrified passengers. And with each lurch dozens lost their footing on the steeply inclining decks and fell. Abbie watched as men, women and children, accompanied by a welter of umbrellas and baskets and bags, slid down the steeply slanting deck towards the broken centre that now lay beneath the water. It was a scene of utter terror and pandemonium. As people lost their footing they grabbed at others and dragged them down with them. In front of Abbie a man slipped on the sloping deck, and as he fell he reached out, clutching blindly, and his grasping hand snatched at the skirt of a young woman who, holding a child in her arms, was clinging to the rail at Abbie’s side. The next moment the woman had lost her grip and her balance and, with her child rolling from her arms, was sliding screaming down the deck towards the deadly chasm below.

  ‘Arthur! Arthur!’

  Abbie realized that the cry came from Jane who was holding on to the rail at her side. Looking to her right, Abbie saw Arthur gripping the rail several yards away. Above the noise of the screams he had no chance of hearing Jane’s voice, though it was clear he knew where she and Abbie were, for he looked over and mouthed some unintelligible words. He could not move towards them, however, for the moment he loosed his hold on the rail he would slide down the deck.

  Two or three lucky men, Abbie saw, had grabbed at the anchor chain of the Bywell Castle and managed to climb up it to the safety of the collier’s deck. It was terrifyingly clear to her, however, that she and the hundreds of others remaining on the Alice would have to take their chances in the water, for the outcome of the collision was inevitable. Already, scores were in the river, struggling, mouths open as they cried out, reaching up with their hands, snatching wildly at each other for salvation. Above Abbie’s head the remaining lifeboat swung in the davits, useless without the time or expertise to get it into the water.

  She did not know what to do. She only knew that death was certain if she remained where she was, for she was sure that at any moment the broken halves of the vessel would sink beneath the surface. Turning to Jane, she shrieked above the din, ‘Jane – we must jump!’

  Without waiting for a response she hitched up her skirt as high as she could and clambered over the rail. Holding o
n tightly with her right hand she pulled off her shawl and let it fall. She could do nothing about the weight of the rest of her clothing, and it did no good to curse the corsets and drapery that fashion demanded should be worn by the well-dressed woman.

  She gripped the rail. She had never been so afraid in her life. Her heart thudding in her breast she looked out over the water, seeking a clear space; there were so many people floundering beneath her that it would be difficult to jump in without striking someone. But if she was to survive she had no choice but to make the attempt, and she could not afford to wait. Briefly turning her head to her left, she saw that many others, Jane among them, were also preparing to leap into the water. It was now or never. Taking a deep breath, she let go of the rail and jumped, propelling herself as far from the stricken vessel as she could.

  As she struck the water the shock of its coldness took her breath away. She went under at once. Although the time she was beneath the surface lasted only seconds, it seemed to her an age and she thought she would never come up again. In moments, however, she had resurfaced, gulping at the air and spitting the vile-tasting river water from her mouth.

  Although she was a relatively strong swimmer the present situation was far removed from those carefree times at the Flaxdown clay pit. Then she had swum free and unhampered. Now she found that the heavy weight of her water-sodden clothes was threatening to drag her under. Surrounded by other terror-stricken people, she turned just in time to see Jane fall and hit the water with a great splash about five or six yards to her left. At once, as fast as her leaden clothing would allow, she struggled towards her. As she did so, drowning people reached out, clutching at her. She evaded them, knowing that in spite of her wishes to see them saved they would only drag her down.

  With great relief she saw Jane surface just in front of her, spluttering and gasping for breath. But as she reached her side Jane began to sink again. Desperately Abbie lunged forward. Jane’s hat had come off and Abbie just managed to catch her by her hair. Quickly transferring her grip to hold her beneath the arms, Abbie turned in the water and, supporting her as best she could, began to swim with all her strength away from the boat.