Titanic

  “No,” Bridget said to Jim. “I told you, I’d rather die than be alone in the world.”

  “Hush, now,” Jim said. “There’s no room for men like me in those boats. The boys and I will try our luck back here, in the stern.”

  “You have to promise me you’ll save yourself, Jim,” Bridget said.

  “You know I don’t go down without a fight.” He pointed to the crane, indicating how far he had climbed just to reach the Boat Deck.

  “Let’s go,” I said, and we ran down the deck, being careful not to lose our footing on the steepening slant.

  The only remaining boat on the starboard side was beginning to lower. “Hey!” I shouted, trying to get the officer’s attention. “She has to get in that boat!”

  “This one’s full,” Officer Murdoch replied. “There are some left on the port side; you’ll have to take her over there.”

  I looked over the railing at the descending boat, wondering if Bridget could jump in. It was filled with an odd mix of first and third class women, oarsmen…and, huddled in the corner, Bruce Ismay, the president of the White Star Line. The man who had ordered the Titanic’s officers to charge ahead at full speed was saving himself.

  “Coward,” I said to myself with disgust, as another distress rocket exploded overhead.

  “Where did everyone go?” Murdoch asked. “They’re all moving toward the stern. We need to load those last few boats on the port side.”

  “Officer Murdoch, how much time do we have?” I asked.

  We both looked toward the sinking bow. The red lights of the Titanic’s mast still burned.

  “An hour, if we’re lucky,” Murdoch replied. “Those few boats on the port side aren’t prepared to launch yet. But when they are, make sure your lady friend is ready and waiting. There are probably more than a thousand people still on board.”

  “Thank you, sir,” I said.

  * * *

  We went to the first class smoking room, where at least it was still warm and dry.

  It was a madhouse. Men dressed in eveningwear still played cards, joking and laughing, trying to ignore the grotesque slant of the tables in front of them. A smoking room attendant was still passing out drinks.

  “Would you like one, good sir? It’s on the house,” he said to me, then looked at Bridget. “For all classes, and ladies too.”

  If this were a normal night aboard the Titanic, I would have said no. Instead I accepted and drank it down, fast. To my surprise, Bridget did, too.

  “I might as well,” she said to me. “It could be our last.”

  I spotted Max across the room, playing blackjack at the French card dealer’s table.

  “Hey!” he exclaimed when he saw me, looking red-faced and excitable. “Crazy night, huh?”

  Two firemen ran by, stuffing their pockets with bottles of liquor. They drank a few slugs from a flask as they passed our table.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” a steward asked. “That whiskey isn’t yours!”

  “Ah, shut up, old boy. We deserve to have our share,” one of them said. “After we drink, it’s down we go. Down to Davy Jones’ locker.”

  Davy Jones’ locker. According to maritime legend, it was the final resting place of dead sailors. I felt my stomach turn.

  “Have you seen my mother at all tonight?” I asked Max.

  “No, I haven’t,” he replied. “But I did see your stepfather prowling around here a while ago.”

  The Titanic lurched downward, letting out a giant, hideous groan. Drinks slid off the card tables. The men reached for anything they could grasp, and for the first time, I saw terror in their faces. I held on to Bridget.

  “Time to wrap this game up and head for the Boat Deck,” Max said to his tablemates. “It’s been a good night, gentlemen.”

  He turned to me. “You know who else I haven’t seen at all tonight?” he said. “That creep Gregory. I’m surprised he didn’t try to bribe his way into a lifeboat.”

  “Anton Gregory?” Bridget said.

  “You know him?”

  “I met him at Mr. Conkling’s house,” she replied. “He was a cagey sort, always looking like he was up to no good. I thought he had ill will toward Mrs. Conkling.”

  All of a sudden, it dawned on me.

  “Max, will you take Bridget to a lifeboat?” I asked.

  “What?” Bridget stammered. “Where are you going?”

  “I think I know where my mother is,” I said.

  “In fact, I’m sure I know where she is.”

  “Is that right?” Max said. “Well, do what you have to do.”

  He squeezed my shoulder a few times and tried to smile. “And if I don’t see you again, it was great getting to know you, John,” he said, then fell quiet.

  “Good luck, Max,” I said. “I won’t forget you.” This time, he managed a real smile.

  Bridget followed me out of the smoking room. “You didn’t really think I would go with your friend, did you?” she said. “I’m going with you.”

  I had learned by now not to argue with her.

  “I was fond of Mrs. Conkling. She was good to me,” Bridget said. “So let’s go now; I’ll help you save her.”

  “We have to go all the way to C-Deck,” I told Bridget as we raced down the deserted first class staircase. I braced myself for a rising flood on our way down. There was no telling how far the water had risen, but I had to try to save Mother.

  If my instincts were right, she was in terrible danger.

  “Is this first class we’re in?” Bridget said, looking around the ornate hallway, at the oak carvings and chandeliers. “It’s so beautiful.”

  A few crashes and bangs within the ship interrupted her, reminding us that it would all be at the bottom of the ocean soon. We had to keep moving.

  “Anton’s stateroom is down here,” I said, my heart pounding. “C-22.”

  We tiptoed up to the door.

  “There’s someone in there,” Bridget whispered. “I can hear Mr. Gregory talking.”

  “It’s almost time for me to go and catch a lifeboat,” I heard Anton say. “It’s a shame you won’t be coming along, Victoria. Unless you tell me where it is.”

  “I told you, I don’t know!”

  “Then you’ll have to tell me where your thieving son went.”

  I threw the door open and barged in. “Right here, Gregory.”

  There was Mother, sitting in a chair, her face chalky white. Anton was hovering over her with a pistol.

  “What are you doing here?” Anton exclaimed. “You’re the one who stole the notebook! You or that weasely German. You’ve messed with the wrong man, the wrong people!” He rolled up his sleeve to reveal a Black Hand tattoo.

  He trained the gun on me. “Where’s my notebook?”

  “It’s already left the ship,” I replied, truthfully. “Now let my mother go. She had absolutely nothing to do with it.”

  “Ha!” Anton snorted. “I’m so sorry, John, but I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

  “Well, I’ve arranged for your notebook to be delivered to the weasely German if you don’t.” I was bluffing, but Anton lunged for me.

  “I’ll shoot you dead, you son of a bitch,” he growled. “Prepare to die at the hands of Serbia!”

  “No!” Mother screamed as he pressed his gun against my throat.

  All of a sudden, there was an enormous whack against the back of Anton’s head. It hit him with such force that he crumpled to the floor, gun pinned beneath him.

  “Oh, God,” Bridget said breathlessly, covering her mouth with her hand. She was standing behind Anton, holding the stateroom’s heavy lamp post with both hands. “Did I kill him? I didn’t mean to kill him. Oh God…” She started to hyperventilate.

  “Calm down,” I said, tapping Anton with my shoe. He wasn’t moving. “You did nothing wrong, Bridget. Nothing.”

  Another hideous groan emanated from the lower decks. The ship sounded like a dying beast. Somewhere
below us, I thought I heard the sound of rushing water.

  “Let’s get out of here before it floods!” I yelled.

  I grabbed Mother’s hand and pulled her out of the chair, which she was still frozen to in fear. We ran.

  “John,” Mother said, tears of relief forming in her eyes. “I was petrified of what might happen to you and Sadie.”

  “What happened? How did you end up here?”

  “Charles tricked me into going out on the promenade with him, saying we should talk. Stupidly, I believed him. I hoped maybe he reconsidered the divorce. Instead, Anton was waiting on the deck—with a gun! After everyone left for the Boat Deck, they forced me back into his stateroom.”

  “Well, we don’t have to worry about him anymore,” I replied. “Either he’s dead, or he’ll be resting on the ocean floor when he comes to. Good riddance.”

  “Where’s Sadie?” Mother asked. “Please tell me she’s safe.”

  “She’s in a lifeboat with Celia,” I replied. “Now we have to get you to one.”

  In our race for the Boat Deck, we merged with a group of third class passengers who had finally broken out of steerage. The electricity was starting to falter, sending sparks flying into the air around us. We scrambled up the Grand Staircase in semi-darkness.

  “The sea is coming in!” a man carrying a little girl shouted. I looked down at the foamy water gurgling up the stairs behind us. Over the ringing in my ears, I could hear Mother gasping as she tried to keep up. I reached out for her hand.

  “We’re almost to the deck,” I told her. “Don’t give up now. Run. Please, Mother, don’t give up!”

  On the Boat Deck, crewmen were standing around a lifeboat with their arms locked together. Lightoller was in front of them, guarding the boat with his gun.

  “Only women and children will get past us,” Lightoller asserted. “Any man who tries to rush this boat will be shot on sight!”

  “Go to hell!” a passenger shouted. The crewmen tackled him.

  “Mother, get in!” I ordered, pushing her toward the boat. “It’s your last chance.”

  She hugged me and kissed my forehead. “We’ll see each other in the morning,” she said. “I know we will. As you told me, don’t give up now.”

  “I love you, Mother,” I said, swallowing hard against the lump in my throat.

  The crewmen pulled her through their man-made gate. The third class man passed his little girl through, and Mother hoisted her on to her lap.

  “What about you, miss?” a sailor said, reaching out to Bridget. “Step aboard. Come on, now. Don’t be afraid.”

  “No,” she said. She stepped aside to let a group of Assyrian women and children climb aboard. “I’ll stay here and take my chances with you, John.”

  I heard a familiar accent calling my name.

  “Rudy!” I exclaimed, shocked to see him here. “I looked for you earlier today.”

  “I thought you would,” he said. “I meant to find you, too. Did you find anything in Gregory’s stateroom?”

  “Yes,” I said. “I found a notebook filled with secret information about the Black Hand. Faye smuggled it off the ship.”

  “The notebook! That’s what I’ve been looking for this whole voyage!” Rudy cried. “I tried to get into the purser’s safe and the cargo hold, to no avail. I was starting to think I received bad intelligence. I didn’t know it was in his room the whole time.”

  He stood there frowning for a minute.

  “I have to get that notebook,” he finally said. “It’s very dangerous for Faye to have it in her possession. I must secure it.” His face was panic-stricken as he watched the crewmen load the last lifeboat.

  “Are there any more women and children?” Officer Lightoller called out.

  “Here,” Bridget said to Rudy, unwrapping her shawl. “Put this on and pretend you’re a lady.”

  “What?”

  “Go ahead,” Bridget said. “I have no use for it anymore.”

  “Last call!” Lightoller shouted.

  Rudy pulled the embroidered shawl over his hair and knotted it under his neck. His gangly frame was hidden beneath a long wool coat. As long as he kept his head down, no one would be the wiser.

  “One more!” I said loudly, and led him by the arm to the boat, as if I were escorting a woman. Luckily, I was a head taller than Rudy. Lightoller didn’t even take a second glance at him as he sat in the boat, eyes downcast.

  “Goodbye, Mother,” I said as the boat began lowering. There was only a fifteen-foot drop to the water now. She kept looking back at me, even as the sailors began rowing into the night.

  The band was still playing ragtime. In the distance, I spotted Jim and his friends running toward us—no lifebelts, missing coats. They would only slow them down.

  “Bridie!” Jim cried. “Why are you still here?”

  He looked around, dread-filled. “The boats are all gone! That was the last one!” For a second, he looked like he might burst out crying. “Why, oh why didn’t you get into a boat when you had the chance?”

  The passengers still aboard were scattering, running astern. Some of them took their chances and jumped overboard. They knew they would up in the water eventually, so they might as well accept their fate and go now.

  Officer Lightoller stopped the crewmen from running away.

  “Come back here!” he shouted. “Let’s cut this boat down!”

  I looked up and saw that there was one boat, a smaller one with collapsible canvas sides, still fastened to the roof of the officer’s quarters. It was our only hope…if anyone could free it.

  “Bridie,” Jim said, “you’ll get in this one!”

  For the first time, she nodded. “Yes,” she breathed, watching the water lapping at the Boat Deck.

  Crewmen set upon the boat, frantically trying to get it down from the roof.

  “Does anyone have a knife?”

  “I do, right here!” Jim yelled. He jumped, and the other men hauled him onto the officer’s quarters. He pulled out his pocketknife and began sawing away at the ropes, racing against time.

  A mass of steerage passengers was huddled together on the deck. “We can now prepare to meet God,” a voice within the huddle spoke. The passengers murmured in response.

  “Hail Mary, full of grace…”

  “Oh, Father Byles,” Bridget said. It was the Catholic priest I’d met a few nights ago on the deck, the one who persuaded Jim not to beat me up. Bridget wandered over to him, crying softly, and dropped to her knees. Father Byles made a sign of the cross on her forehead as she prayed.

  “He refused a seat in two different lifeboats so he could save souls,” a crewman next to me scoffed. “He better save them quicker. We’re going under.”

  Jim poked his head over the side of the officer’s quarters. “Conkling, come give us a hand!”

  I crawled onto the roof and began working furiously, getting the tangles of ropes loose while Jim sawed at them.

  On the deck below, I saw one of the firemen who had been hoarding liquor in the smoking room. He drank straight from a bottle now, stumbling around woozily.

  “What are you doing? Come up here and help us with this boat!” Lightoller ordered.

  “Forget it, man,” the fireman replied. “There’s no hope now.”

  Suddenly, the ship wrenched downward and trembled violently. Several of the men around me careened off of the officer’s quarters. I had no time to grab them as they were swept into the ocean. A stampede of passengers surged up the Boat Deck, abandoning the boat, screaming and fleeing for safety where there was none.

  “There’s no time!” Lightoller said, as the collapsible boat finally crashed onto the deck. “There’s water pouring into her!” The ship groaned and shuddered. I felt the sting of the icy water hit my nose.

  “John!” Jim screamed as he clawed at the side of the officer’s quarters.

  I held onto him with all my might, trying to pull him back onto the roof.
br />   All of a sudden, I heard a noise like an oncoming train. There was a loud, terrifying whistle coupled with a great whoosh. The Titanic’s first smokestack came crashing down, crushing the people who had been swept off the ship. It sent another wave rushing over the Boat Deck.

  I lost my grip on Jim. The force of the ship sucked me underwater, completely blinding me as the Titanic’s lights flickered, then went out forever.

 

  Nine

  I surfaced just in time to see the second funnel collapse. The explosions coming from inside the ship were deafening, punctuated by the tearing and twisting of metal. Even in total darkness, I could see the ship start to split in two. Sparks and flames shot into the air. The people still on board looked like a swarm of bees, hovering around the stern.

  The sight of it was almost enough to distract me from the cold.

  I put my hand out and felt something substantial bobbing up and down in the water. A pair of strong hands grabbed my shoulders.

  “Not him, he’s too big!” someone said. “He’ll sink us all!”

  It was the collapsible boat, floating upside down. At least twenty men were clinging to it, including Officer Lightoller and the drunken fireman, who was still holding on to his bottle.

  “Here,” he said as I pulled myself to my knees. “Take the chill out of the air.”

  Lightoller grabbed the bottle and chucked it into the ocean.

  “Get a grip on yourself, you drunken fool,” he snapped. “We have to keep this boat upright if we intend to live.”

  We floated past two female figures, wet hair matted to their cheeks. I could tell from their coats that they were steerage passengers.

  “Hold on to me, miss,” Lightoller said. But as he pulled her from the water, her head lolled to one side, eyes were half-open.

  “Nevermind,” he said. “These ones are dead already.”

  Suddenly, the second female figure raised a hand in the air.

  “Let me on,” she cried weakly. “I’m hurt!”

  It was too dark to see the woman’s face, but she had a voice I’d know anywhere.