Titanic

  “Lifebelts!” Mary exclaimed. “Those big ugly white things? What use do we have for those, now?”

  Sleepy women began stumbling into the hallway in nightgowns. Some chattered back and forth confusedly to each other, unable to understand the orders.

  “Girls, get your lifebelts on,” the matron said, then looked at Brendan and me. “And what are you doing here at midnight? You know the rules. Now get back to your rooms before I kick you down there!”

  “Miss Wallis, what’s going on?” Bridget asked.

  “Just get your lifebelt on, Miss Bridget.”

  “But why?” Bridget persisted. “Why are we stopped?”

  “I don’t know,” the matron repeated stubbornly. “I am simply relaying captain’s orders. Now do as I say and wait for instructions from the crew.” She pounded on the next door.

  For the first time since I met her, Mary’s face was somber.

  “I have to find my brother,” she said. “I don’t want to get separated from him.”

  “The boys went back to the bow to get their luggage,” I told her. “They’re coming right back. Everything will be fine, Mary. I promise.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I met the designer of the ship, Thomas Andrews,” I said. “He explained to me how the watertight compartments worked. We’re not going to sink.”

  “…He’s Irish, by the way,” I added, and the girls smiled a little, looking relieved.

  Some of the women were filing out into the hallway with their White Star lifebelts, fussing with straps, moving the cumbersome sheets of cork back and forth.

  “I’ll help you with yours,” I said to Bridget. We entered the room she shared with Mary and the two Scandinavian girls, who were sitting wide-eyed in bed. I dug the lifebelts out from under the bunks. I pulled it down over Bridget’s head and tied the straps. Then I motioned to the Scandinavian girls, offering help.

  “Look at these ugly things!” Mary cried. “I look like a fat seagull. How long do we have to wear them?”

  “Just leave it on until the crewmen say otherwise,” I said. “It shouldn’t be long.”

  Brendan took Mary’s hand. “I best be leaving here, too, before the matron comes back,” he said. He gave her a kiss before he left.

  “Me and Pat’s tickets are in here somewhere,” Mary said, rooting around under her bunk. “I’m sure they’ll want ’em if we get sent up top. And the suitcase…”

  As Mary talked to herself, I pulled Bridget into the hallway.

  “What are you doing?” she whispered. “I have to help Mary. Something serious is going on and she doesn’t know it.”

  “Come up top with me,” I said.

  “What?”

  “Come up top with me to first class,” I repeated. “I have my ticket in my pocket. The lift attendants won’t question it. If there’s an emergency, you’ll be safer there than down here.”

  We watched a woman struggling to strap lifebelts over her children’s pajamas. They fussed and cried at the indignity of being awake at this hour, captain’s orders or not.

  “I can’t,” Bridget finally said.

  “We can’t stay down here,” I persisted. “We have to get through the gates while there’s still time. If there’s a real emergency, they could forget all about coming back to let us out.”

  “Then you go and I’ll stay,” she insisted. “My brother told me to wait here while he gets our things, and then he’ll be back. Jim honors his promises.”

  I let out a deep breath. I could see that Bridget’s boots were planted firmly. She didn’t rock or waver, the way I’d seen her do when she was nervous. She wasn’t going anywhere.

  “I’ll come back for you,” I said. “After I find my mother and Sadie, I’ll make my way down here and bring you up to the Boat Deck. Jim can come, too.”

  “Alright.”

  “One more thing,” I said. “Can you hold onto this for me?”

  I pulled out Mother’s necklace and slipped it into her pocket. It was more dangerous for Charles and Anton to catch me with it than to leave it with Bridget.

  She gasped when she saw it.

  “It’s Mrs. Conkling’s necklace!” she exclaimed. “John, I can’t take this!”

  “Hold onto it, just for a while,” I said. “Consider it a promise that I’ll be back.”

  Then I turned and walked away. I knew the longer I stood there, the harder it would be to leave her.

  * * *

  A crewman was locking the gate at the top of the stairs.

  “Hey!” I yelled. “Let me through.”

  “Stay down there,” the crewman barked. “I have orders to keep these gates locked until the officers say otherwise.”

  “I’m first class!” I argued.

  “Sure you are. Now go back downstairs and put your lifebelt on.”

  I dug frantically in my jacket pocket until I felt the piece of paper that had been there since Southampton.

  “I have a first class ticket,” I said, thrusting my hand through the gate. “My name’s John Conkling and my stepfather owns Lake Erie Steel. He put the steel in this ship. Now let me through before it costs you your job!” I didn’t sound like myself as I said it.

  The sailor ripped the ticket from my hand and glanced at it.

  “You can’t go back down once I lock this gate behind you,” the sailor growled. “What are you doing here, anyway? You’re to report to the Boat Deck in your lifebelt immediately.”

  I thought of Bridget. I put one foot behind me, torn between going back to F-Deck and finding Mother and Sadie. If the Titanic was in danger, I had to get to them before Charles did.

  “Alright, let me through,” I said, knowing I had to somehow find my way back down again.

  * * *

  The elevators were still running. The lift attendant smiled, as he always did, giving no indication that anything was amiss.

  “Where to, sir?” he asked as I stepped on.

  “A-Deck.”

  “You’re my last passenger, I’m afraid,” the attendant said. “I’ve been ordered to close the lifts for the night. Evidently, we’ve dropped a propeller blade.”

  I didn’t bother telling him about the iceberg. A few seconds later I stepped onto A-Deck, where a few passengers milled around under the Grand Staircase, no lifebelts in sight. Not one of them looked alarmed.

  I spotted Max Seligman standing near the railing and rushed up to him.

  “Max,” I said. “What have they told you?”

  “Not much,” he said. “I was in the smoking room playing blackjack when we stopped. They’re saying we’re stuck in an ice field for the night.”

  “It’s only a minor delay, gentlemen,” a steward said as he passed by. “We should be underway shortly.”

  I turned to Max.

  “They’re not telling us the truth,” I said. “I think we’ve hit an iceberg. I saw it when I was out on the deck.”

  “A berg?” Max repeated, sounding more intrigued than worried. “Well, I’m not surprised. I overheard one of the rich guys talking to Ismay at dinner. They decided to light the last four boilers and plow full speed ahead, despite all the ice warnings.”

  He shook his head. “Oh, speak of the devil,” he said.

  Bruce Ismay and Thomas Andrews were rushing through the Grand Staircase. Andews was carrying a blueprint of the ship, clutching it so tightly his knuckles were white.

  “The mailroom’s gone,” I heard him say. “They’re already dragging sacks of mail up the stairs to keep it out of the water. I hope the pumps can buy us a little time.”

  Max looked at me incredulously. “This ship can’t sink,” he said. “What about the watertight doors and the pumps? Maybe they’re already running them and that’s why we’re stopped.”

  “Maybe,” I replied. “But I’m going to go see what’s going on.”

  “Me, too,” Max said. “I’m sure I’ll see you around later, John. Stop by the smoking room if you
get a chance.”

  Some of the first class passengers on B-Deck had come out of their rooms by now.

  “Excuse me, sir, what’s going on?” one lady, clad in a nightgown and a fur overcoat, asked a steward from her doorway. “I heard a grinding noise.”

  “There are some minor problems in the engine room,” the steward replied. “But as a precaution, the captain has requested that everyone put their lifebelts on.”

  The engine room. An ice field. A dropped propeller blade. Why wouldn’t they tell anyone about the iceberg?

  I could only guess that the damage was so great, they were simply trying to ward off the panic.

  “It’ll take a lot more than engine problems to get me out of bed on a Sunday night,” one man said grumpily. He shut his door behind him.

  I pounded on the door to Mother and Charles’ stateroom. There was no answer.

  “Mother? Are you in there?” I called.

  Silence.

  Mr. Bowen was coming down the hallway. “Mr. Conkling, do you need assistance with your lifebelt?” he asked.

  “I can manage. Have you seen my parents tonight?”

  “The elder Mr. Conkling was headed to the smoking room last I saw him,” Mr. Bowen said. “But I believe that room will be closed during this delay.”

  “But you haven’t seen my mother?” I pressed.

  “No sir, not since they were going to dinner.”

  I went to the next door, Celia and Sadie’s room. Celia answered, looking irritated with the commotion. She squinted at me.

  “What’s going on?” she asked. “It’s past midnight.”

  “Get your lifebelt on and come outside,” I said impatiently. “Put Sadie’s on, too.”

  “But she’s fast asleep,” she said.

  “It’s captain’s orders.”

  Sadie sat up in her bed. “Johnny?” she said, rubbing her eyes. “Where’s Mommy?”

  “That’s a good question,” I said, looking at Celia. “Have you seen her or Charles? Because the steward hasn’t.”

  “I assume she’s sleeping.”

  I stepped into the room and found the two lifebelts inside the closet.

  “Celia, please get Sadie dressed,” I said. “If the stewards request it, go up top to the Boat Deck. Follow their orders and dress warmly. I’ll come back to check on you after I find my mother.”

  “Don’t be absurd,” Celia scoffed. “A seven-year-old outside at this hour? In this cold?” She turned to my sister. “Sadie, go back to sleep, dear.”

  “You had better follow orders,” I warned her.

  I knocked on Mother’s door once again.

  “Mother, please wake up,” I called. “We have to go up top.” But I had a sinking feeling that she wasn’t inside the room. The last time I’d seen her, she was alone on the Boat Deck. Maybe she’d finally given into her constant sadness and climbed over the rail.

  Or maybe Charles had come across her when no one else was watching.

  I raced out to the first class staircase, where more passengers were congregating, exchanging pleasantries and comments on the peculiar events unfolding in front of them.

  “I hear it’s a lifeboat drill,” one woman said. “How dreadful to do it so late on a Sunday night! I’ll think twice before sailing with White Star again.”

  “Not only that, but it’s cold as the Dickens outside,” her husband added.

  I started to think about the temperature. Every winter in Cleveland, someone fell through the ice out on the lake. Sometimes their bodies washed ashore in spring, sometimes not. But they never survived long enough for anyone to rescue them.

  If that water is freezing, these lifebelts won’t buy us more than twenty minutes of life, I realized. I decided not to put mine on. I was a strong swimmer, and what would a lifebelt do for me in thirty-degree water?

  It was time to go back to the Boat Deck to see if Mother was still there. Once I found her, I’d get her, Sadie, and Celia into a boat. Then I’d go back for Bridget.

  It was now half past midnight. Less than an hour had passed since the collision, and the deck was already beginning to tilt. I was mindful of the unevenness as I walked up the stairs, grasping the railing and being careful not to fall.

  There was no longer any doubt about the Titanic’s fate. We were going down by the bow, and fast.

  * * *

  People were slowly trickling out onto the Boat Deck. I followed them, even though the cold felt like needles stinging my face.

  The smokestacks were letting off a long, low, continuous scream. The deck crew scrambled about, ripping the canvas covers off the lifeboats.

  “Swing these boats over!” a burly sailor yelled. The brand new davits groaned as the ropes were cranked outward, positioning the boats over the water.

  All of a sudden the smokestacks stopped bellowing. The passengers fell silent, too, caught off guard by the sudden quiet.

  “Attention, please,” a man in a navy blue White Star jacket and cap shouted. It was Officer Murdoch, a man I saw on deck occasionally, talking with Captain Smith. “Attention!”

  The passengers stood listening, some looking confused, others bored. But mostly, they looked cold, stomping their feet and rubbing gloved hands together to stay warm. I thought again about the freezing water. If a rescue ship didn’t reach us in time, half the people standing here would be plunged into it along with the ship.

  “For the time being, I am loading these boats with women and children,” Murdoch said. “Please step toward me. This way, please.”

  The crowd hesitated, holding a collective breath. Husbands and wives looked at each other. The woman next to me, holding a child against the hump of her lifebelt, stared up at the man beside her.

  “Not without you,” she said.

  “We have to listen to officers,” he said, rubbing her shoulders to comfort her. “You heard Mr. Murdoch. It’s women and children first, but only for the time being. There will be plenty of boats left over.” He motioned toward the row of empty lifeboats on the first class deck.

  Her face was still clouded with doubt. But with her husband’s arm around her, she stepped forward slowly, handing the child to Murdoch before he helped her step into the boat.

  “Don’t worry,” another man told his wife as she approached the lifeboat. “As soon as they get this mess sorted out, the sailors will row back to the ship. You’ll be aboard again before breakfast!”

  “Are there any more women and children?” Murdoch bellowed out, his breath freezing in the air. A man stepped forward, hand-in-hand with a young girl. Murdoch scanned him up and down. “Women and children first,” he repeated firmly, narrowing his eyes.

  The boat was still half empty, but the passengers hung back.

  “No way am I getting into that little boat,” one woman declared stubbornly. “I get horribly seasick. In fact, I’d like nothing more than to go back to bed.” She and her husband turned back inside, where it was warm.

  “Alright, men can step aboard now,” Murdoch said, looking discouraged. Much to the relief of their wives, a few of the husbands climbed into the boat.

  Murdoch turned to the crewmen manning the davits. “That’s all for this one,” he said. “Lower away.”

  The boat jerked downward unevenly—front end first, then back. Some of the women aboard screamed and clutched the edges.

  “Steady!” Murdoch barked. “You’ll dump them all into the sea.”

  I leaned over the railing and tried to count the boat’s occupants as it lowered. Twenty-five or so, in a boat built for almost seventy. Looking forward, I could see the bow of the Titanic dipping lower into the ocean, the still-burning lights inside casting an eerie green glow onto the surface of the water.

  Fireworks exploded overhead, lighting up the black horizon for a brief moment. The passengers gasped—some with awe, others with confusion.

  “What the hell is going on?” a man asked as the smoldering white lights fizzled. “Those
look like distress rockets. Surely this can’t be serious.”

  The ship’s orchestra had set up on the Boat Deck. They played a loud, lively tune as the crewmen began to load the next boat, cajoling the women to step aboard with little success. This boat, too, was half-empty.

  There was no time to waste. I had to get Sadie into a boat, even if she had to go without Mother. I went back inside, where even more passengers were waiting in the Grand Staircase. Stewards milled in and out with trays of drinks. “The smoking room is now open for the night, gentlemen,” one of the stewards said. “The blackjack tables are open as well. Would you care for a cocktail?”

  They’re trying to keep us calm, I realized as I took the stairs to B-Deck.

  I found Celia and Sadie in their stateroom, where they had reluctantly dressed for the cold. Sadie was wearing an odd ensemble of a winter coat, mittens, and stockings under her nightgown.

  “I thought it would be easier to get her back into bed later,” Celia explained.

  “Celia, we’re not going back to bed,” I said. “The ship’s sinking. They’re already launching the lifeboats. I’m going to get you and Sadie into one before they’re all gone.”

  They both stared at me, round-eyed. For the first time in months, Sadie didn’t whine or argue with me. I helped them both into their lifebelts, fastening the straps snugly—even though I knew, in this cold, it wouldn’t make much difference.

  “What about the luggage?” Celia asked.

  “Leave it,” I said. “There’s not enough room for all the people aboard this ship, let alone their suitcases.”

  “Can I bring my doll?” Sadie asked.

  “Yes, Sadie.”

  “Are you coming in the boat with us?”

  I looked down at her, unsure of what to say. “I’ll be in a different boat,” I lied. “So will Mommy.”

  The atmosphere in the Grand Staircase was more urgent now. “Can you believe this?” a man said to no one in particular, sounding agitated. “No organization, no plan of attack!”

  “Don’t worry,” another man replied. “I heard the Titanic can’t possibly founder in less than eight hours. Another ship will be here to take us on long before that.”

  Ahead of me, I spotted a blonde bun. Faye and Mrs. LaRoe were standing in the thick of the crowd, looking overwhelmed by the scene.

  “If you’ve come to get me to leave, I’m not going,” Faye said before I could get a word in.