He frowned.
‘I’m not going without you,’ she said firmly.
‘Very well,’ he conceded. ‘As long as there’s room. If not, you’re to go in the boat - no arguments - and I will get a later one.’
She saw the sense of this.
‘Very well.’
He smiled. Then, putting his hands on her shoulders he drew her to him and kissed her on the forehead. She could feel the warmth of his body radiating outwards. If they had been alone … But they were not alone.
Reluctantly he let her go.
‘Oh!’
Emilia heard Mrs Latimer let out a startled cry. Mrs Latimer had almost fallen as a distress rocket, going off with a resounding boom, had taken her by surprise.
Carl gave his mother his attention, holding her beneath the elbow until she had successfully crossed to the small boat and settled herself down next to Miss Epson.
‘Oh, it really is quite comfortable,’ Mrs Latimer said in surprise, as Miss Epson spread a blanket over her knees.
Having seen her safely settled, Carl turned back to Emilia.
Or, at least, back to where she had been, but she was no longer there.
‘Emilia?’ he said, looking round. Then, with a puzzled note in his voice. ‘Emilia?’
His eyes scanned the boat deck. They roved over Mr Astor’s party, on past a group of ladies, then stopped and searched the group to make sure none of them were Emilia, before travelling across the deck to the lifeboat again. But he could not see her.
He looked round again, more quickly this time, his eyes sweeping every group and scanning every face. He refused to accept what he was seeing, but as his eyes searched every last inch of deck around him, he had to face the truth.
Emilia had gone.
Chapter Nine
Emilia was watching Mrs Latimer climb into the lifeboat when she felt a hand clamp itself over her mouth from behind and she was dragged backwards, away from the boat, through the milling throng of people on the boat deck. She was so surprised that it was a minute before she could take in what was happening, let alone do anything about it, and the people she was dragged through were too intent on listening to the officers’ orders to take an interest in one young woman who had nothing to do with them.
She was pulled from the boat deck to the promenade deck, by which time she had recovered from her shock enough to struggle. She began to hit and kick out with all her might. But it was to no avail. Her assailant cursed, but otherwise ignored her efforts to break free as he dragged her towards the lift.
She could not see who it was that had hold of her, as he - by his strength, she guessed it must be a man - was behind her. He dragged her into the lift, then his hand punched one of the buttons - and nothing happened.
The lights were still working, Emilia noticed, but when the ship had struck the iceberg, the power for the lifts must have gone out.
‘Damn! The bloody lift’s not working,’ said her assailant.
Her spirits sank. She recognized his voice. It was Barker.
She knew that Carl’s man had been keeping an eye on him during the voyage, making sure he remained in steerage, but in all the confusion he must have managed to get away.
She renewed her struggles. She didn’t know what Barker had to gain by seizing her at such a time, but he meant her no good, and the sooner she broke free the better.
He dragged her out of the lift again, his hand still clamped over her mouth, then pulled her kicking and struggling down the stairs.
If only someone would notice, she thought. But the sight of a woman struggling in the grip of a man was no longer noteworthy. Below deck, conditions had deteriorated. Stewards were no longer politely asking passengers to put on their lifejackets and soothing them with reassurances that nothing was wrong. Instead they were pulling reluctant women from their staterooms and forcibly preventing them from returning, so that no one found it strange or objectionable to see a woman being treated so roughly.
How quickly things can change, thought Emilia. A few hours before, Barker would not have dared try such a thing, and if he had, he would have been immediately apprehended by the stewards. But he had dared it now. She must find a way out of the situation, because no one was going to help her. She would have to help herself.
Barker seemed to have no clear idea of what he was doing or where he was taking her. He pushed her in front of him, taking her whichever way seemed easiest, where the people were not so densely clustered. He eventually turned into one of the corridors leading to the staterooms. They were, Emilia thought, in second-class, although she could not be sure. She had lost her bearings in all the confusion. The narrow corridors all looked alike. If only she had taken more notice when she had visited second class before. But it was too late to think about that now.
The corridor was deserted. Some of the stateroom doors were open. Some were closed. Far off, she heard one shut with a bang.
Apparently satisfied that the area was deserted, Barker pushed her into one of the empty staterooms. As he did so she noticed the floor was not level. It had a slight slope downwards.
‘What on earth do you think you’re doing?’ she demanded, as at last he let her go, throwing her across the room before closing the door. ‘Mr Latimer will —’
‘You and your Mr Latimer,’ he spat. ‘I’ve had enough of your Mr Latimer. Setting his man to watch me. Keeping tabs on me. Stopping me going about my business. So you’d better shut up about Mr Latimer if you don’t want to feel the back of my hand.’
She eyed him warily, knowing he was capable of making good on his threat.
‘I don’t know what you think you’ll gain by kidnapping me,’ she said defiantly.
‘A fortune, that’s what. The ship’s sinking. I’m just keeping my investment safe.’
‘The ship isn’t sinking,’ she contradicted him. ‘The lifeboats are being launched as a precaution. In an hour or two this will all be over and Carl will be wanting to know where I am.’
‘Oh, it’s sinking, all right. I heard Andrews telling the Captain. And when it does, you and I are going to be safe. I’m going to take you to a nice little place I know of, a hideaway, in New York, where you’ll stay until I’ve telegraphed Mr Montmerency and he’s come to collect his wares. I would have sent a telegraph from the ship, but that blasted Hutton’s dogged my every move.’
Emilia was appalled. Although she had begun to suspect the situation was more serious than she had at first supposed, she had not actually believed Titanic was going to sink.
‘If the ship’s sinking, then you’ll never get off, unless you take one of the lifeboats, and you can’t hope to keep hold of me when we’re in a boat. I can ask for assistance from the crew or the other passengers. You’ve just wasted your time.’
‘Oh, I have, have I? Then you can think again. You’re not going to get help from anyone if I knock you out first. There must be plenty of stuff in the infirmary for keeping you quiet.’
‘And don’t you think that will look suspicious?’ she challenged him. ‘Carrying an unconscious woman on to the boat?’
‘No one will care. It’s civilized enough at the moment, but I’ve come from steerage and the water down there’s knee deep. Once everyone’s realized the ship’s going to sink there’ll be a panic, and no one will care what I do or don’t do with my “wife”. They’ll be too busy worrying about their own skins to care about yours. But if, by any chance, anyone asks, I’ll tell them I gave my poor wife a sedative. There are a lot of hysterical women on board the ship right now, and no one will question the actions of a concerned husband who wants to keep his wife from panicking.’
‘You’ll never manage it,’ said Emilia hotly.
‘Oh. I’ll manage it, all right, and a good deal more besides. When I get off this ship, I’m not only going to have you with me but I’m going to be rich as well. All the nobs are up on deck, either that or they’ve gone off in the boats, and they’ve left their money and jewels behind.
The ship’s ripe for looting. A man with a strong nerve can make a fortune out of something like this, and no one’s got a stronger nerve than me. One way or another, I’m going to come out of this little trip a wealthy man. In fact, I might just be a millionaire. So you can shut up and sit down and keep out of my way.’
He pushed her into a chair and, drawing a couple of pieces of rope out of his pocket, he pulled her arms behind her, round the back of the chair. He wrapped the first piece of rope round her arms and chest, securing them to the chair as he did so, and tying the second rope round her feet, again tying them to the chair. She struggled, but he was too strong for her, and she was held fast.
She was tempted to scream for help, but she knew that no one would hear her. And even if they did, they would dismiss her as a hysterical woman who was screaming because of the situation. So she saved her energy, hoping she would be able to see a way out of her predicament before it was too late.
‘Now, let’s see what there is here,’ he said, pulling out the drawers. He whistled. ‘Look at all this!’ He took out bundles of money and stuffed them into his pockets. His eyes were gleaming and he laughed loudly. ‘And this is only the start.’
‘You’re a fool,’ she said with contempt. ‘If the ship’s sinking, you haven’t got time to waste.’
‘I’ve got an hour or so. Andrews told the Captain. That’s plenty of time for me to do my thing. Now you stay here, like a good girl, and I’ll go and see what else I can find.’
He went out, closing the door behind him.
An hour! Emilia’s spirits plummeted. Was that all the time they had left? Although she had begun to think it possible the ship might sink, it was very different to hear that it was going to do so in such a short space of time.
She had to get free. And then she had to get off Titanic before Barker could find her and make good on his threat to sedate her.
She struggled against her bonds but they were too well tied and she couldn’t even loosen them. They were cutting into her wrists, and the more she struggled, the deeper they bit.
She paused, and drew breath.
Think, she told herself. If you can’t undo the ropes, then you must cut them.
She looked round the stateroom for something she could use.
Her eyes alighted on a paper knife on a small table. It was lying tantalisingly near the edge.
She began to rock her chair, building up enough momentum to move it forwards in a shuffling movement. It was slow work, but gradually the desk drew nearer. She paused for breath when she reached it, then with great difficulty she rocked her chair from side to side, manoeuvring it so that her back was to the desk. She tried to pick up the paper knife. At the third attempt she managed it. Allowing it to slip down through her hands, she brought the blade into contact with the bonds that tied her hands behind her back. But she could get no leverage, and besides, the knife was not sharp enough. It would not cut the rope.
Frustrated, she dropped it to the floor. She would have to think again. There must be some way of getting free. Her eyes ran round the stateroom. Over in the corner she saw a washstand. On it was a cut-throat razor. Yes. That would cut the ropes. But it would also, if she was not careful, cut her wrists.
She hesitated. But in the end her desire to be free outweighed her fear. Repeating the rocking movement with her chair she managed to manoeuvre her way across to the washstand, where she began the difficult task of trying to pick up the razor. She failed at the first three attempts, but at the fourth one she finally managed it. She took a deep breath, then tried to cut through the ropes.
It was working. She could feel the ropes give. And then the razor slipped, and cut the mound beneath her thumb.
She dropped the razor in shock - and then cursed herself for doing so. Though her wound bled freely, it was not serious, and if she had not dropped the razor she would have been able to try again.
She closed her eyes in frustration, But she had no time to indulge in recriminations. She must find another way to free herself.
She looked round the stateroom again but there was nothing she could use to help her. No more knives or razors. Nothing sharp. Just beds and tables and chairs. All useless.
She felt her spirits plummet still further. If she could not manage to free herself, she would be at Barker’s mercy. And mercy was a quality Barker did not possess.
Up on deck, Carl was becoming worried. He had not been too anxious at first, assuming Emilia must just have slipped out of sight, but with every passing minute he was growing more concerned. Although it did not seem possible, Emilia had vanished. What made matters worse was that the scene was becoming ugly. The disbelief of half an hour before was starting to turn to fear as the ship began to tilt forward, and people began to realize there was a serious possibility Titanic could sink. He must find Emilia, and find her quickly, if he was going to be able to get her into a boat.
His mother’s boat had left almost half an hour ago. It had not waited for Emilia, but had been lowered to the water with its small group of passengers and then rowed away from the ship. Still, there were other boats. All he had to do was find Emilia.
He left the starboard deck, which he had already searched, and went round to the port side. Most of the lifeboats had gone. Standing by one of them he saw Mr and Mrs Thirske. He went over to them.
‘Have you seen Miss Cavendish?’ he shouted, trying to make himself heard over the loud boom of the distress rockets, which were being launched into the sky at regular intervals.
‘No, I’m sorry, I haven’t,’ said Mrs Thirske. ‘Isn’t this terrible? Do you think the ship will really go down?’
His face was grim.
‘I think it likely,’ he said.
‘Perhaps Miss Cavendish has gone back to her stateroom,’ suggested Mr Thirske. ‘Did she need a coat?’
‘No she was warmly dressed.’
‘Even so, you know what women are. One of the ladies on board wanted to go back for her lucky pig. Perhaps Miss Cavendish has gone to fetch a mascot, or something of sentimental value.’
‘Thank you. Yes, perhaps she has.’
He didn’t think it likely, but he had searched the deck and she wasn’t there, so he decided he had nothing to lose by trying her stateroom. It was a small chance he would find her there, but the only one he had. He fought his way through a mass of people coming the other way, but once in the first class corridors, it was deserted. Doors were flung open, revealing magnificent interiors in a state of disarray. Beds had been abandoned with their pillows rumpled and covers thrown back. Drawers were open where passengers had hastily retrieved their belongings, or where looters had been at work.
It brought the enormity of the situation home to him. The beautiful ship, the pride of the White Star Line, with its elegant staterooms, its cafés and libraries, its squash courts and Turkish baths, would perish. And all the souls on board, if they did not manage to get into the lifeboats, would perish with it.
He hurried now, running along the corridor to Emilia’s stateroom as the ship shifted beneath his feet. The tilt was becoming more pronounced, with the bow sinking ever lower and the stern rising higher, so that it was difficult to make progress.
At last he reached her stateroom. He flung the door wide, but she was not inside. He went though the sitting-room to the bedroom, then tried the second bedroom before going out onto her covered deck. But she was nowhere to be found. Moreover, it did not look as though she had been back to her stateroom since collecting her coat. There was no sign of haste or confusion. Everything was neat and tidy, apart from the blocks of ice, almost completely melted, over by the porthole.
He ran his hand through his hair, wondering what to do next. And then a cold feeling gripped him. What if Barker had eluded Hutton’s watchful eye? In all the confusion it was only too likely.
But then why had Hutton not come to tell him?
Because he was trying to find Barker, Carl guessed.
But where would Barker
take her? Steerage? It was certainly where his room was placed. But would he have returned there with the ship sinking, given that the steerage accommodation was on the lower decks?
There was only one way to find out.
He went down to second-class accommodation, scarcely noticing the water that crept over his shoes and then swirled around his ankles, but when he reached steerage it was too deep and cold to be ignored.
He cursed.
Still he went on, wading through the icy water, calling as he did so.
‘Emilia!’ he called. ‘Emilia!’
But there was no reply.
Alone in the stateroom, Emilia made another effort to break free of her bonds. She twisted her wrists in an effort to loosen the ropes, but to no avail. Even worse, the ropes grated over her cut and made it bleed even more. But she had to get free. It had been bad enough before, but since the ship had shifted, water had started to creep under the door. If she did not release herself soon she would drown.
She was just making another effort to work the ropes loose when the door opened and a woman - a maidservant by the look of her - entered the stateroom. She was dressed in a coat and wide-brimmed hat. A shawl was wrapped round her neck and shoulders.
Emilia felt a wave of relief. She was saved!
‘Oh, thank goodness,’ she said. ‘You have to help me. There’s a man, he’s kidnapped me and tied me up. Please, help me undo the ropes. I have to get away from him before he… ’
Her voice trailed away as she saw the “woman” more clearly. It was not a woman at all. It was Barker, dressed in women’s clothes.
‘No need to look so surprised,’ he sneered. ‘I haven’t gone mad. I’m just taking a few precautions, that’s all. They’re sticking to “women and children first” up there. Trouble is, there aren’t enough boats to go round, which means that anyone left ’til the end - the men - won’t be getting off at all. But I’m not going down with the ship. I wanted to get something from the ship’s infirmary to keep you quiet, but there wasn’t time, so I’ll have to make do with this.’