by Julia Hughes
Rhyllann caught a glimpse of Carrie’s face before she pushed between them.
Unexpectedly she shoved at Wren with all her might, grabbing hold of his shirt sleeves to pull his hands from Rhyllann’s neck. Rhyllann felt her straining with effort.
‘You know. You know damn well what he’s playing at. You knew from the moment you gave him that sword!’
A look of astonishment crossed Wren’s face then colour began to creep back in. He folded Carrie into his arms, looking over her head at Rhyllann, he blinked then placing a hand on Rhyllann’s shoulder nodded as though an unspoken agreement run through the three of them.
The goofy smile returned as he said ‘She’s got me sussed. Sorry Annie. She’s right.’
With an arm round Carrie as though escorting her to the dining room, he strolled away. Downstairs.
Offering up a quick prayer to whatever gods might be listening, Rhyllann followed.
Chapter Forty-Seven
By Rhyllann’s calculations they were passing B Deck, and entering Deck C; the height of the ceilings became lower. This deck was a mixture of 1st class to the front, 3rd class to the rear, with the firemen’s accommodation somewhere in between, and completely deserted. They crashed down to D deck, racing along a wide alleyway. Electricity sizzled, the lights dimmed then flickered out. Knowing Wren was night blind, hearing Carrie scream, Rhyllann tugged at Caliburn’s hilt holding it aloft like a torch.
Carrie screamed again. Its eerie blue light showed three demons from hell approaching them, black from head to toe, their eyes pinpoints of red. One of them reached out a hand towards them dripping blood. With a whirring the lights flickered and came back on, revealing only exhausted men covered in grime. As they staggered closer Rhyllann saw that one had only stumps for fingers. Wren seized him as they tried to pass, without thinking Rhyllann gently touched Caliburn’s blade to the stumps. The man yelped as his flesh scorched but it stopped the bleeding.
‘Get back up.’ His colleague said in a voice too weary for emotion. ‘Get back up now. We’ve been called off the pumps.’
They pushed by not bothering to look back to see if their advice had been heeded.
Wren spoke urgently to Carrie urging her to get back upstairs, she refused vehemently at first, then tearfully. As they argued an elderly crew member approached, Rhyllann rushed up to him:
‘Third class, where are you keeping the third class passengers?’
‘In the dining room – we’re coming back for them, don’t worry Sir, it’s all going to plan.’
Mistaking Carrie for a cabin boy he grabbed her and started pulling her along with him shouting behind for Rhyllann and Wren to follow. Carrie screamed over her shoulder for Wren.
‘Go with him Carrie. Wait for us. Don’t worry, I’ll find you.’ Wren called. Turning to Rhyllann he placed a hand on his shoulder.
‘You up for this?’
Rhyllann grunted. Then felt hairs on the back of his neck rise.
Wren spent hours studying the plans of this ship. He knew it better than its own crew. He’d pored over the passenger list, eyes flickering from name to name. One simple indisputable fact. When the Titanic hit the iceberg she would sink. All Wren ever needed to do was get on board and make certain history ran its course. One look at Wren’s face was all he needed.
‘You knew this would happen. You knew I wouldn’t be able to stand by and let those people drown.’
Wren gave a shrug, eyes wide with innocence. ‘Did I?’
Rhyllann wanted to kill him. But there wasn’t time.
He was speaking again, or at least his lips were moving. ‘Annie – you get second class, I’ll get third.’
Rhyllann shook his head. They were doing this his way. The Titanic was sinking but this time, the underdogs would have their chance.
‘The dining room – it’s along this corridor?’
When Wren nodded he said ‘Get round the back. I’ll met you there.’
For a second or two Wren didn’t move. Rhyllann answered the unspoken question in his eyes.
‘Yes. I know. Women and children only. I geddit.’
This brave new world still didn’t allow women the vote. Even he understood that the risk of a child or woman changing the course of history over the next decade or so was one Wren was willing to take.
Wren ran back the way they’d come, stopping suddenly to heave at something on the ground. With a feeling of disbelief Rhyllann watched Wren slowly disappear, before realising he’d accessed a ladder way. Hollow metal clangs reverberated the corridor as Wren’s feet clambered against the rungs.
Spinning round, he started into a jog. No matter what the outcome to this might be in years to come, this felt right. Things hadn’t felt so right in a long long time.
Rhyllann paused in front of wrought iron gates baring his way to third class. Men pressed up against them, jamming the staircase. A single crew member stood on his side, trying to reason. Beneath his hand Rhyllann felt the slightest of vibrations.
‘Stand back!’ He bellowed. ‘Get clear now!’
As he spoke the lights flickered again, when they came back on the staircase was clear. Apart from Wren. With a sharp nod at Rhyllann, he turned his back, ushering the mob along the corridor, back to the dining hall.
Rhyllann raised his sword above his head, arcing it down on the gates, which crumbled like plaster against Caliburn.
He turned to pull the crewmember back to his feet.
‘What’s your name?’
‘Will, William sir.’
‘William you’re on point duty. Understand? We’re sending the women and children up first. You take them up to the boat deck. You take them straight to Mister Andrew Tomms.’
Gratitude flooded the man’s face. At last someone was acting.
‘Sir! Yes sir.’
‘Then get yourself back down here.’
The man stood to attention and saluted. But Rhyllann was already bounding down the stairs.
The scene was bedlam, a babble of voices in all nationalities, men pushed against each other, women and men shouted to be heard, children howled with fear.
Wren had lost control. Without thought Rhyllann struck down the first three men trying to barge past him.
‘I will have order!’ He roared brandishing Caliburn above his head.
Wren gave a welcoming grin, then jumped onto a table.
‘Listen up! You are getting out of here. All of you!’ He lied. ‘But if you all charge for the upper decks, it won’t happen.’
He lowered his voice. ‘If one of you, just one, makes a dash for it, you’ll be cut down like a dog, and we will leave this place. Do this sensibly, behave like men and every single one of you will get off this ship and survive. This is the only way. Ladies, be brave. Be lionesses. Allow your children to the front. Children, women, then men. But we must have order.’
He softened his voice. ‘Now youngsters, show how grown up you can be. Each find a partner, hold hands and you’re going to walk quietly and quickly upstairs. No running. Mummy and Daddy will follow on the special Mummy and Daddy lifeboats.’
A voice piped up. ‘You promise?’
Wren bowed gravely. ‘I swear on my life.’
‘You’re a liar!’ A wild eyed man in his twenties barged his way towards Wren, a knot of young men who could have fallen off any building site following.
Rhyllann swung Caliburn towards him, a warning bolt of blue arched across the room.
‘He isn’t lying. He isn’t!’ Tommy or Johnny – the guy who wanted the binoculars that day – stood before Wren, waving his arms for attention.
‘There is enough room. The ship’s designed to stay afloat for hours. But he’s right. If we don’t do this with some kind of order the ship’s crew have orders to shoot.’ Jimmy – that was his name – Rhyllann suddenly remembered.
‘I’d like to see ‘em try!’ It was blabber mouth again.
His friends shouted encouragement.
Rhyllann w
aded through the crowd which shrunk back before him. Without another word he slapped the broadside of Caliburn across the trouble maker’s head. The man slumped to the floor.
‘Anyone else got any objections?’ He asked. He had his answer in the silence that followed. Ordering the men to the rear Rhyllann nodded at the women already organising their children into pairs and the first group led off, two women in front and rear.
Wren jumped from the table. Placing his hands on Jimmy’s shoulders in a voice only Rhyllann caught he said.
‘You’ve saved lives.’
Jimmy spat on the ground and wouldn’t meet his eyes. Rhyllann had no doubt the man would curse both him and Wren with his last breath.
‘C’mon. Brawd, second class.’
Pushing Wren before him, he cast a look back over his shoulder. Already the next group were waiting obediently as they’d been told. Behind them another little group were forming. Grey faces under flat caps stared balefully from the room’s rear. He banished their spectral masks from his mind, clinging to the banister for balance as the ship lurched suddenly.
‘’S OK folks, nothing to fret about. One of the lifeboats launching.’ Jimmy’s voice called, as Rhyllann reached a landing and turned to follow Wren along another corridor, feeling like a rat in a maze.
D Deck was eerily silent, the communal rooms deserted. Rhyllann caught a foretaste of the emptiness the Titanic would endure for the coming centuries and shivered.
‘Third class were all below, second class must have been sent to B deck.’ Wren said. Rapping on doors automatically, calling as he waded through the corridors. The ship listed, metal creaked and groaned, expanding and contracting. Rhyllann steadied himself against the wall cringing as a noise like a small avalanche sounded hundreds of yards away.
Wren stood stock still, his head raised like a hound scenting the merest whiff of a stag. Flinging open the door of an outside cabin, he rushed inside, galloping to the window to draw back the curtains.
Now Rhyllann could hear it too. Someone called out Wren’s name over and over. A lifeboat inched into view and with a feeling of dread he realised who was screaming. Wren struggled with the window catches, panic in his face. Pushing him to one side, Rhyllann kicked the glass out, screams sounded from below, he peered over to see the dark shape of a lifeboat rowing away into the darkness. Wren wrenched him back, just in time to prevent him being decapitated by the lifeboat currently being lowered. Now the occupants were eye level. Carrie was being held down forcibly by two women, the upper part of her body straining against their hands, one had a leg slung over Carrie’s lap. She screamed blindly up to the top deck. She stopped abruptly, her head twisted in their direction and her eyes raced over Rhyllann, searching for Wren. For a moment she froze then with a quick jerk downwards of her head, she tore at one of her captor’s hands with her teeth.
The woman let out a screech of rage, letting go of Carrie to clutch her hand between her knees. ‘The little brute! She bit me!’
Above all the noise and confusion Wren’s clear voice rang out.
‘Carrie. Carrie. Stop that. Stop it now. Stay there. I’ll find you cariad, I promise you I’ll find you. Stop now before you upset the boat.’
Carrie stilled in her struggling. But others were not impressed.
‘Get her out! Get her out before we capsize!’ An oarsman shouted his voice thick with terror.
Snatching Caliburn from Rhyllann, Wren wielded it menacingly. Amidst all the wailing and shouting its crackling warning snarled out.
‘Shut up. Sit down and do your job. The girl stays in the boat. Understand me! Guard her well. The fate of your eternal soul depends upon her safety.’
The man seemed to shrivel under Wren’s emphatic command. With downcast eyes he nodded meekly.
Carrie hiccupped uncontrollably but a look passed between her and Wren. One of complete trust returned by Wren’s unspoken promise repeated.
With a twinge of envy, Rhyllann averted his gaze, giving them their moment. A middle aged woman with a child huddled under each arm stared back at him. Tears streamed down her face and she made no attempt to wipe them away. That lifeboat was full though. Full to bursting point. And the ship had entered its final moments.
He grabbed at Wren still clutching Caliburn, hustling them through the door, half carrying him along the corridor.
‘Hurry hurry hurry. There’s no time. There’s no time left.’ Unbelievable panic clutched at Rhyllann – something told him it was already too late.
‘It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters now.’ Wren mumbled swiping at his eyes. ‘She’s safe. The girl’s safe.’ But he allowed Rhyllann to force him into a stumbling jog.
They were rushing down a slope now, the water around their knees. As they approached the well of the staircase leading to Deck B it rose to mid thigh. Wren gasped and floundered, waist deep in water. Pulling himself upwards by clinging to the banister, bumping awkwardly against the bottom steps, crawling up the stairs on hands and knees, his mouth wide open as he panted for breath, his trousers might have been painted onto his legs, they clung so tightly. Even as he registered all this, Rhyllann screamed with pain as ice cold water assaulted his skin to his waist; scalding with its coldness, then he too crawled up the stairs now at a crazy house of fun angle.
Wren waited for him at the landing, seeming close to fainting. Without a word he turned, groping for the banister; staggering up the stairs like an old man stricken with lumbago, dragging Caliburn behind almost as an afterthought. Rhyllann’s blood prickled in his veins with a thousand electric shocks as feeling came back to his legs. He wanted to stop, rub some warmth back into his aching muscles. But ahead of him his cousin waited, urging him on without words.
At last they were on A deck. This landing emerged into a massive lobby with doors leading to the outside deck, large arched windows lined one side of the wall. Voices called from the elevator shaft begging, pleading, demanding help. Rhyllann glanced outside and caught a glimpse of hell. Gun shots mixed with rockets exploding, voices male and female shouted and screamed. Rhyllann made a conscious decision not to look in that direction again no matter what he heard. Abruptly all noise stilled. Rhyllann listened intently, at last the band had stopped playing.
Wren’s body shook as he gave a long shuddering sigh.
‘It’s over Annie. They’ve accepted it. We’ve got to move. Now.’
With a new burst of energy he splashed forward pushing open the door to their corridor. Trembling uncontrollably Rhyllann followed, wondering when the water had reached the top deck.
The door to their room wouldn’t open, it too had slanted to an alarming angle. Wren kicked at it, Rhyllann stepped forward to help thinking this night would never end. With a splintering of wood it swung open, dangling on one hinge. Another thunderous crash came this time accompanied by blinding blue lightning.
‘Over there Annie, sit over there. Don’t worry brawd. I’m taking us both home. Trust me now.’
Wren guided him into the armchair, in complete control once more. Rhyllann clasped his hands tightly together wishing the trembling would stop, realising Caliburn was the source of the lightning. As he watched Wren touched the blade very gently to the bundle of toothpicks, wafting the flames with a barely audible breath. He looked sheepishly at Rhyllann, shrugging as if apologising for something.
Raising the sword aloft in his left hand, gripping the mantelshelf tightly with his right, Wren swayed suddenly – the whole room tilted as he brought Caliburn down with such force it seemed it would severe his arm completely and Rhyllann tucked his head into his chest, placing his hands over his ears so his own murmurings reverberated against his palms as he prayed like never before, ducking his head deeper as the armchair slammed across the room to crash against the outside wall.
With an ear shattering cascading rattle, the windows and balcony glass dissolved into a million shards, flying inwards, instantly tons of water followed, deafening him. It seemed the force of the water would
rip the flesh from his bones. His mind almost welcomed the numbing cold as the Atlantic swept over him, lifting him from the armchair, swirling through the room like a herd of wild horses stampeding through a corral seeking escape.
By fluke he’d been submerged mid breath but his lungs warned they were running on empty now. He needed to take another breath before the instinct grew too great and he gasped at water. He pushed upwards towards the surface. The ceiling was an arm’s span above his head but it was enough. He took a deep breath, then another, then another before steeling himself to turn, terrified of what he might see.
The waters were stilling now, settling. There was no sign of Wren. Rhyllann trod water, his head bumping against the ceiling, fascinated by the streaks of electric blue dancing across the surface, sparking upwards, strands joining each other before arcing away again like St. Elmo’s Fire.
“Where is he? Where is he?” With a sob, he realised he was going to die alone; it was never meant to end like this.
“He left me, he left me and he promised.” The voice inside his head sounded about twelve years old. Numb with cold, Rhyllann couldn’t even cry.
The silence was total apart from a high pitched whining leaking from his eardrums and the insane chattering of his teeth. A deathly quiet settled over the world, broken by a noise that sounded like a thousand souls groaning in unison. The walls moved again, slanting to turn a whole quarter of a revolution as the ship pitched onto its bow, pulled forward by thousands upon thousands of tons of water. For brief seconds time and gravity were suspended. The lights went out for the last time; and the Titanic began her final journey.
Rhyllann’s mind gave into the pressure, his lungs stopped struggling for air. Peace flooded through him, he forgave Wren for abandoning him; his last emotion relief that he wouldn’t have to face Wren’s heartbreak at losing Carrie. They would be together for all time.
As all hope seemed lost, from very far away, Wren’s voice floated back to him.
‘Hold on Annie. I promise; I’m taking you home.’
Afterwards.
What mystified her was how she managed to board a train in London at five in the evening, and arrive in Wales at eleven in the morning. On the same day. Eventually she persuaded herself that she’d boarded at five in the morning somehow. The other possibility was too impossible to think about. Whatever, it seemed she was the first to arrive.