by Tom Bradman
‘I’m afraid the damage to the hull is very serious,’ said Mr Andrews. ‘The front four compartments are flooded, and compartments five and six are already beginning to fill. The bilge pumps can’t deal with the flow.’
‘I ordered the watertight doors of the first four compartments to be closed,’ said one of the officers. ‘We could simply do the same for five and six.’
Billy glanced at the panel behind the helmsman. Sure enough, the little lights over each of the first four panels now glowed red. But those compartments made up a large part of the ship – a quarter of the whole, Billy now realised, seeing that the last compartment of all, the stern section, was number 16.
‘It wouldn’t make any difference, Mr Murdoch,’ said Mr Andrews. ‘There’s a long gash in the forward part of the hull and the sea is getting into five and six directly. You’ll notice that the ship is already beginning to tip at the bow.’
All heads turned to look at the bow, and Billy could see immediately that he was right. The front part of the ship was leaning slightly downward.
‘Good God, man,’ murmured Mr Ismay. ‘What are you saying?’
‘This ship was designed to stay afloat with four compartments flooded,’ said Mr Andrews. ‘But we can’t stop the rest flooding too. Once six is filled to the level of its top bulkhead the water will start flooding into seven, then eight, and so on. What I’m saying, Mr Ismay, is that the Titanic is going to sink.’
There was a sharp, collective intake of breath from the men on the bridge. Immediately voices were raised in dissent.
‘You can’t be serious! That’s impossible,’ said Captain Smith. ‘This is the Titanic, the world knows she’s designed to be unsinkable.’
‘I wish that were true,’ Mr Andrews said quietly. ‘But I’m afraid it isn’t. Perhaps it was hubris even to think such a thing in the first place.’
There it was again, Billy thought, the same word Reverend Magill had used after Da’s funeral. ‘What does that word mean, sir?’ Billy asked.
‘It means arrogant pride – the kind that’s doomed to fail,’ said Mr Andrews, their eyes meeting. ‘It’s ancient Greek. There’s a line in the Bible that says the same thing, but at greater length – pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall.’
‘Is it possible that you might be wrong, Andrews?’ said Mr Ismay.
Just then there was a creaking, groaning noise from deep inside the bowels of the ship, almost as if the Titanic herself was answering Mr Ismay’s question.
‘No,’ said Mr Andrews with absolute finality.
‘How long do we have?’ said Captain Smith, his face stricken.
‘According to my calculations, about an hour. Two hours at the most,’ said Mr Andrews.
‘And according to my calculations,’ said Mr Wilde, ‘we only have enough space in the lifeboats for half the passengers. What about the rest?’
‘We’ll worry about that in due course,’ Mr Ismay said briskly, avoiding Mr Wilde’s gaze. ‘There are some very important people on this ship who must be given priority. Well, Captain Smith? What are you waiting for? Are you going to give the order to abandon ship, or do I have to do it for you?’
Captain Smith stared at him for a moment, his jaw set.
‘You heard Mr Ismay, gentlemen,’ he said at last. ‘Mr Wilde, get the lifeboats launched. Mr McElroy, have the wireless operators send a distress signal – there might be some ships nearby. The rest of you know your duties. May God have mercy on us all.’
‘Come on, Billy,’ said Mr McElroy, and they hurried off the bridge. Billy looked round and saw the Captain standing alone, his fists clenched.
Chapter Eight
Rich Man’s Rules
Billy shivered as he scurried along behind Mr McElroy on the way to the Marconi Room, and he knew it wasn’t only because of the cold. The night air was freezing, but it was fear that made him tremble.
It was as if Mr Andrews had just announced the end of the world. For the last three years Billy had watched the big ship growing in the shipyard until it was this vast structure of iron and steel that felt so solid beneath his feet, and now it was doomed.
Suddenly he remembered what Ma had said about the ship – it killed your Da. She was right about voyages being dangerous, too. Billy knew that people drowned when ships went down. He couldn’t help wondering what Ma would feel if the ship that had taken her husband’s life took her son’s as well. Come to think of it, he wouldn’t be too happy about it himself.
‘Was Mr Wilde right about the lifeboats, Mr McElroy?’ Billy said.
‘I’m afraid so, Billy. The company decided we only needed the minimum number of boats required by the Board of Trade, and that was sixteen, with four collapsible boats as well. And I think he was being optimistic about how many passengers they’ll take. I have a feeling it will be a lot less than half.’
‘What about using lifebelts, sir? Couldn’t everyone else just swim?’
‘They won’t last long in the water, Billy. You’d maybe have a few minutes before you froze to death.’
Billy glanced at him, but he didn’t get the chance to ask any more questions – they had arrived at the Marconi Room. Both operators were there, and both were shocked by the news they brought.
‘Are you sure?’ said Mr Phillips. ‘We felt the bump all right, but it didn’t seem serious enough to sink the ship.’
‘According to Mr Andrews it was, and he should know,’ said Mr McElroy. ‘Now, let’s get that distress call out. Are there any ships in the vicinity?’
‘There are,’ said Harold. ‘But we don’t know how close.’
‘You’d better see if you can find out,’ said Mr McElroy. ‘We’ll need some help. I’ll send Billy back in ten minutes to take any messages to the bridge.’
‘Yes sir!’ said Mr Phillips, tapping at the Morse key already.
‘Keep your chin up, Billy!’ said Harold. ‘We’re not dead yet!’
Back at the bellboy station the boys were chattering, laughing and fooling about in the usual way. But they fell silent and rose to their feet when the grim-faced Mr McElroy came in with Billy behind him.
Moments later the boys looked as stricken as Captain Smith. George’s face was deathly white, his expression one of terror, but it gave Billy no pleasure to see him like that.
‘I won’t lie to you boys, we’re in a desperate fix,’ said Mr McElroy. ‘But it’s our duty to assist the passengers in any way we can. And to begin with, I want you out on the boat deck helping them into lifeboats.’
The boat deck was as busy as Billy had ever seen it. Groups of seamen were working on the lifeboats, stripping off the tarpaulins and getting ready to winch them down into the sea. More seamen and deckhands were stationed by the gangway doors telling groups of passengers where to go. A couple of officers were shouting orders at the men, and Billy could see they were anxious. But as yet they seemed to be concealing their worries from the passengers.
‘What is this all about, young man?’ said an elderly lady, addressing Mr Lightoller, the Second Officer. She was clearly wealthy, and also very cross at having been woken up, told to put her fur coat on over her nightdress and go up on deck in the freezing night air. ‘Is it some kind of drill? I really don’t think this is the kind of thing I should have to put up with, not at my age.’
‘Just a precaution, ma’am,’ said Mr Lightoller. ‘Hurry along, please.’
Mr McElroy detailed the boys off to various parts of the boat deck, and Billy soon found himself carrying a bag for a rich American lady. They were in a queue shuffling towards a lifeboat, but there seemed to be a problem.
‘What are you doing, you damned fool?’ an officer suddenly yelled at a seaman. ‘You can’t start lowering the boat till the passengers are in it!’
‘Sorry, sir,’ said the seaman. ‘But I’ve only lowered it a little way.’
‘Say, are we going to get in this boat or not?’ said a man beside Billy, the husband of the lady w
hose bag Billy was carrying. ‘I’m freezing my butt off standing here in just my PJs and my suit coat.’
‘Language, Wilbur!’ snapped his wife, and the passengers around them laughed, seemingly unworried. ‘I’m sure they’re doing what they can.’
Another seaman opened a small gate in the handrail above the lifeboat, and he and Billy began to help passengers climb down into it.
A moment later Billy heard a whooshing noise and he looked up. A rocket rose into the black sky above the ship and exploded into a starburst. ‘That’s a distress flare,’ somebody said, and the words seemed to send a shiver of fear through the crowd.
‘Right, that’s it, stand back everybody!’ yelled the officer. Billy could hear an edge of panic in his voice. ‘Lower away! Move on to the next boat, men…’
‘But that boat is less than half full!’ a man said.
Billy peered over the handrail and saw that he was right. The lifeboat was descending slowly to the dark sea below, jerking occasionally as the winches snagged, its benches half empty.
‘Can’t be helped!’ said the officer. ‘There’s plenty of room for everyone!’
Billy knew that wasn’t true, but he didn’t think it was his place to tell the passengers. He moved away, intent on finding someone else to help. People pushed past him roughly, voices were raised, and he realised things were beginning to get out of control. That was no great surprise. The ship was shuddering and groaning and creaking and the bow had tilted down much more noticeably. A second distress rocket went up and a woman screamed.
Billy knew how she felt. He was trying hard not to think about what would happen to him if he ended up being one of the many people who didn’t make it into a lifeboat. But he was definitely scared, panic clawing at his insides.
‘There you are, Billy!’ said Mr McElroy, emerging from the crowd. ‘Go back to the Marconi Room and see if there are any messages for the bridge.’
‘Aye, sir!’ said Billy, and ran off, dodging people going the other way. The only messages were from ships that were too far away to help. On the bridge, Captain Smith read them silently and turned to look down at the chaos on the boat deck. Billy waited, but the Captain said nothing. So Billy left, heading for another lifeboat – and saw something very disturbing on the way.
Three seamen with their arms linked were standing across a door to a gangway that led below. They were facing outwards, and behind them was a heaving mass of humanity, third-class passengers trying to get out on deck.
‘Why are you holding us back, you rogues?’ roared a man on the gangway. He had a strong southern Irish accent and was pushing against the seamen.
‘Orders, chum,’ yelled one of the seamen. ‘Women and children first.’
The Irishman swore at him. ‘That’s a joke,’ he said. ‘I can see men getting into those boats as well as women and children. That’ll be the first-class men, though. And there are plenty of women and children down here too!’
Billy remembered what Mr Ismay had said, that the important people on the ship should have priority. It didn’t seem right, and it was clear others agreed.
‘Aye, it’s rich men’s rules on this ship, right enough,’ yelled another man in the crowd. ‘But why should we drown so the rich can live? Come on, lads!’ With a great roar the crowd pushed the seamen aside and burst out. Billy quickly stood back, not wanting to be trampled in the rush as at least one of the seamen had been. There were more shouts and screams from the direction of the nearest lifeboat, and Billy wondered what to do. Then he glimpsed Anya’s mother emerging from the gangway with her daughters.
But when Billy looked more closely, he saw that only three of the girls were there. Anya wasn’t with them, and her mother was in tears.
‘What’s happened?’ said Billy, hurrying over to her. ‘Where’s Anya?’ His questions were answered with a stream of incomprehensible Polish, but he soon got the gist of it. Anya was up to her old tricks and had wandered off again.
And now she was lost somewhere on the sinking ship.
Chapter Nine
Cold Water Rising
Billy tried to find out more from Anya’s mother, perhaps get a clue as to where she had seen Anya last, but it was impossible. Language was a barrier between them and there was nobody to translate. Those around them were all too concerned for their own safety and that of their families to stop and help any strangers. The more the ship creaked and groaned and shuddered, the more steeply the bow tilted downwards, the greater the panic and chaos.
He knew Anya’s mother was in an impossible situation. She couldn’t search for Anya with the other girls, and she couldn’t go off and leave them alone. They had to stick together, which meant there was only one thing for it.
‘Don’t worry, I’ll find her!’ Billy said, pointing to himself and then down the gangway. Anya’s mother seemed to understand, and nodded.
Billy smiled at her and the girls, all of them frightened and crying and clinging to their mother. ‘Wait here!’ he yelled, pointing at the deck where they were standing. Anya’s mother nodded again, and Billy decided that had to be good enough.
He turned and descended into the ship, hurrying down the metal stairs of the gangway, leaving the sound of chaos behind him. The best place to look would be the first-class lounges, but the gangway would take him past the third-class cabin area where Anya and her family had their bunks. Billy decided it would do no harm to check in there first, just in case Anya had gone back.
The gangway also took Billy past his own quarters. He glanced through the door and stopped. George was huddled on his bunk with his back to him.
‘What do you think you’re playing at, Anderson?’ Billy said, surprised. ‘You should be up on deck helping the passengers. You heard Mr McElroy.’
George jumped to his feet and stood between the rows of bunks. ‘I’m… I was just…’ he said, wiping his face on his sleeve. He took a deep breath and Billy could see his eyes were red and his cheeks damp. ‘Er… I might ask you the same thing, Fleming,’ George said, visibly cranking himself up into indignation and bluster, trying to conceal the fact that he had been crying by going onto the attack. ‘Hoping to find something to steal while everyone else is busy?’
‘Watch your mouth,’ said Billy. ‘That’s more your kind of stunt.’
‘You watch your own mouth,’ said George, his voice unsteady. ‘I can’t have you going around saying things like that. It’s time I put you in your place.’
Billy was about to tell him not to be so stupid, but George punched him, his fist landing squarely on Billy’s jaw. The iron taste of blood filled Billy’s mouth and his head rang like a bell. But he got his fists up and managed to block the next few blows. George was swinging like a madman, screaming in rage.
Billy gave ground slowly, still blocking George’s punches. Here he was on the back foot again, but hadn’t that been the way of it since he and George had met? Billy had offered friendship and had it thrown back in his face, and now something snapped inside him.
He brushed aside another wild swing and hit out himself. His knuckles connected with George’s cheekbone and the older boy reeled backwards, shocked by Billy’s onslaught. Billy drove his left fist hard into George’s stomach and George fell to the deck like a sack of potatoes. He clutched his gut, curled up tight against a bulkhead and started sobbing.
‘I can’t swim,’ George whimpered. ‘I can’t even swim.’
Billy lost any remaining patience he might have had. He grabbed George’s collar and dragged him to his feet. ‘You’ll freeze to death in the water long before you drown, you idiot,’ he hissed, leaning in close. ‘And I don’t care how scared you are, or how much you hate me. A little girl is going to die if I don’t find her. You help me, or I’ll send you straight to hell myself.’
‘But what can we do?’ said George, his face pale and desperate. ‘We’re going to die! One of the seamen told me there’s not enough room in the lifeboats. People like you and me will be at the back of t
he queue.’
‘Maybe so,’ said Billy, his anger draining away. He remembered what Mr McElroy had said about George being a decent chap under all his bluster, and now he could see that George was just a scared boy, like Billy himself – the only difference being that George obviously couldn’t handle his fear.
‘Maybe we are going to die,’ Billy went on. ‘But at least we can try to save somebody else, a little girl. Or do you just want to stay here feeling sorry for yourself?’
George rubbed the tears from his eyes once more and took another deep breath, his whole body shuddering. He breathed out, and it was like a balloon deflating, any remaining bluster seeping away. ‘No, I don’t,’ he said quietly.
‘Well, get a grip on yourself,’ said Billy. ‘We don’t have a moment to lose.’
* * *
There was no one in Anya’s cabin or in the third-class area when they arrived. The space that had been so full of life before was empty, luggage, clothes and papers strewn where fleeing passengers had discarded them.
The deck seemed even more tilted here than elsewhere, perhaps because they could see more of it, thought Billy. Half a dozen bottles had rolled down and were clanking against a steel bulkhead.
‘Search everywhere,’ Billy told George. ‘Under the bunks, in the chests…’
He hadn’t realised just how big the third class accommodation was. When it had been full, the men, women and children had been packed in like sardines. Now Billy called Anya’s name and his voice echoed back to him.
The two boys tore through the entire space. They checked the cubicles in the shared washrooms, and looked in every corner, every nook and cranny.
‘She’s not here,’ George said finally.
‘She must be up in first class,’ said Billy.
‘First class? But she’s not allowed…’
‘Doesn’t matter now, does it? Come on.’
They ran as fast as they could through the ship. Several times they heard snatches of wild shouting and yelling coming down from the boat-deck through open doorways. Even though he couldn’t make out any of the words, Billy could tell everyone up there was even more scared and angry than before.