Spirit of the Titanic (11 page)

D
own in third class people were busy packing and it wasn't too difficult to understand why. First-class passengers could leave behind things like trunks of expensive clothes, least favourite jewellery, shoes, and hats. If any of these items needed to be replaced, there was plenty of money to do so. It was a very different matter for the poorer passengers. These brave people, who were leaving their homes to make a new life in America, had brought everything they owned in the world. Goodness only knows how long it would take before they found a job and could afford to buy themselves a new outfit. Therefore, they had to bring their tatty suitcases and worn carpet bags with them.

Isobel sat with baby Sarah in her arms and directed Joseph and his father on how to repack their entire belongings back into their small suitcase. The door was open and the corridor outside was filled with people shuffling along with all their baggage. No one seemed to know exactly what was going on. There was no sign of any crew or staff, not since the midnight call for passengers to make their way up on deck.

Once again I slipped in and out of the different compartments, dismayed at the sights of mothers reluctantly waking their children and taking them out of their warm beds, to begin dressing them slowly. How I wished I could scream at them to hurry up. Here and there, little knots of people chattered excitedly about waking up to find water seeping into their rooms. However, since most of these passengers didn't speak English their important knowledge couldn't be shared around. Therefore, mothers didn't know that there was no time to play peekaboo with baby's blanket or comb unruly hair until it was flat.

Sarah leaned against her mother's neck and closed her eyes while Jim got the case closed and began to button up Joseph's coat. The baby was wrapped up in the
Titanic
blankets she had slept in. There had only been room in the family suitcase for a small, thin rug that Sarah was very attached to and that wouldn't have been enough to keep her warm. Jim took Joseph's hand and spoke to his family, “Now, remember, we have to stick together. There is going to be a lot of people around us, so stay as close to me as possible.”

Both wife and son nodded and they all stepped over the threshold, into the noisy throng. They hadn't gone very far before they found themselves in a long queue that didn't seem to be moving anywhere.

“What's up?” Jim asked the man in front of them.

“We've to wait our turn. First and second class are being taken off and then it's our turn.”

Jim smiled down at Joseph and said, “Well, that makes sense, doesn't it? They got on before us, so they should get off first.”

His son returned his smile confidently, displaying the gap caused by his missing tooth. It had fallen out the previous evening as he chewed his bread. Unsure about what to do with it, and not wanting to leave it behind because it was one of the very few things that he actually owned, he wrapped it up in a piece of paper and shoved it into his coat pocket. Keeping his hand inside his father's, he patiently waited for whatever everyone was waiting for, feeling perfectly safe.

I knew what that felt like. I remembered how safe I felt when I went walking with my father. Every so often he would give Ma a break from us and take me off for a few hours. Sometimes I wondered whether we were taking a break from her and her moods, but I never said it aloud. Although, when I was eight or nine, I did ask him why she always seemed angry, but he looked so sad that I quickly changed the subject.

One morning I heard her crying in bed, huge, dreadful sobs that scared me. Da wasn't due back for a couple of hours, so it was just me on my own, listening to her. I knocked quietly on her door and was almost relieved when she didn't hear me. Since it didn't feel right to go off to school, I stayed outside her bedroom, feeling sure I could do nothing else. How I wished she would call out and tell me to do something for her. I didn't knock again, even when the crying stopped. Instead I fell asleep, only waking when Da slammed the front door shut. I ran down to meet him.

“What's this? Why aren't you in school?”

I told him about the crying and he went immediately to her room, not even stopping to take off his coat. When he didn't reappear after a few minutes, I fished out my library book and sat down at the kitchen table, losing myself with Robinson Crusoe on his island.

“You should have gone to school.”

Da glanced over my shoulder to see what I was reading. I shrugged, a little hurt that he didn't understand that I couldn't have left her alone like that. He wouldn't have left her either; I was sure of it. He filled the kettle with water and set it on the stove. Sulking slightly, I kept reading, knowing that he was watching me out of the corner of his eye. He sliced two thick slices of bread, one for him and one for me. Only when the mug of tea and buttered slice were laid before me did I permit myself to ask what was wrong with her.

He sat down opposite me, taking the time to milk and sugar his tea. The spoon clipped the sides of his mug as he stirred.

“Well, Sammy, I don't really know what to tell you.”

Dipping the tip of his finger into a smudge of butter on his bread, a habit which never failed to irritate my mother, he looked straight at me.

“Ach, I suppose you are old enough now, and you won't mention it to anyone, will you? Especially your mother?”

I nodded dutifully, though I was beginning not to want to hear what he had to say. He would never lie to me and maybe that was all I needed to know. I liked being a child, not having to know everything about everything. However, it was much too late now. I had asked and he was opening his mouth to give me the answer.

“Ma was crying because she was trying to grow another baby, a little brother or sister for you. Only it went away during the night, when you were asleep.”

Although this was the last thing I expected to hear, it struck me as a suitable explanation for the dreadful sadness I heard in my mother's sobs. I picked up my bread and took a small bite while Da waited for me to say something. My mind was empty. Usually when I didn't know how to explain myself properly he would help me out, but this time he stayed silent. Maybe he didn't know what to say either. Finally I could only think to say, “I'm sorry she's upset.”

He took a mouthful of his tea and said, almost to himself, “I'm sorry too, Samuel.”

By the time I finished my bread, I had another question but I couldn't bring myself to ask it. Even in my head it sounded very selfish. I wanted to ask, was I not enough for her? Instead, I hid my bewilderment behind my book, which I stood in front of my plate, and began to read, the same page over and over again. Da looked so tired that day. Afterwards I wished I had asked him. And I would have, had I known that one day, not too long after that, he wouldn't come home again.

Instead of reaching out to one another, when we lost Da, Ma and I spent the next few years building a wall to protect us from the other. A couple of months after he went, I woke up one night to find her standing beside my bed.

“Ma? Ma? What's wrong?”

She wasn't even looking at me; rather she was looking over my head. The vague look on her face suggested that she was deep in thought. I was just about to call for Da when I suddenly remembered he wasn't there anymore. The shock was far worse than when I first heard he was dead, and I started to cry. However, those tears of sorrow soon turned to rage. I was so sick of being sad and scared. She was my mother. Why wasn't she helping me, taking care of me? I sat up straight and was overcome by a need to do something big and loud. I wanted to slap her. I really did. A fire surged through me. It was all so unfair. Why did he have to be the one to die? Why wasn't it her that fell into the sea? Before I knew what I was doing, I was screaming at the top of my voice, “Get out! Get out of my room!”

For a moment I thought she couldn't hear me. She blinked once or twice and then flung me a look of pity and contempt. “You're too like him. It hurts me just to look at you.”

The next day we both pretended that the previous night had been nothing but a bad dream.

Sarah and Joseph were very lucky to be loved so much by their mother.

The obedient queue in third class waited and waited. It grew quite stuffy in the corridor and it didn't help that most people were wearing as much of their wardrobes as possible because there wasn't enough room in their suitcases. There was a tension in the air, but not enough to provoke anyone to question their trust that they would be taken care of as soon as it was their turn. As I passed by one woman, she shuddered against her companion. “Oh! I just felt someone walk across me grave.”

Because I couldn't think of an alternative, I waited with them. Someone would have to come for them, for no other reason than there was so many of them.

“Jim, can you see Kate and Maggie anywhere?”

“No, I can't, but sure their Longford neighbours will take care of them.”

At Isobel's sigh, Jim turned to reassure her. “It can't be much longer now.”

Suddenly there was a cry from farther down the corridor.

“Oh my God! There's water everywhere.”

The effect on the crowd was instant. Waves of fear rolled over the heads of the men, women, and children. Sarah was jolted awake when her mother turned quickly to see where the shout had come from and back around again to see if there was any movement ahead. There wasn't, apart from nervous fidgeting and heads swivelling to check on what everyone else was doing.

It only occurred to me then to see what was causing the holdup and it was simply this: the queue was headed by a timid group who thought nothing of standing patiently, on a sinking ship, in front of a padlocked gate. The gates must have been locked to prevent the steerage passengers from swarming the upper decks before their turn. Slipping through to the other side, I dashed around but could find no one who might help. Indeed, the corridors above were empty. Most people were on deck now. It appeared that the few hundred below had been simply forgotten about.

I hurried back downstairs, wondering what on earth I could do. Why were they all just standing there? Jim was trying to hide the fear in his eyes. He put the suitcase down and lifted Joseph into his arms, who naturally felt his father's anxiety.

“What are we waiting for, Da?”

I didn't hear the strained reply because my attention was suddenly grabbed by baby Sarah. It was incredible, but it actually seemed that she was smiling at me, and even waving her chubby arms toward me as if she wanted me to take her from her mother. Could she really see me? Since I was hovering above Isobel, there was no one behind me, so it certainly seemed that she could. To test her, I smiled back, a broad, hearty smile and stuck out my tongue, for good measure. To my amazement, and pleasure, she flung her head back and laughed uproariously. What a wonderful thing it is to be able to make someone else laugh like that. I never knew babies could laugh wholeheartedly, like grown-ups. Her mother and father giggled in spite of their predicament.

“Why, baby, who are you talking to?”

They followed the direction of her outstretched arms and saw nothing but the ceiling above them. Isobel kissed her fondly and whispered to Jim, “Maybe she sees an angel or a spirit guide. I've always heard tell that very young babies can see what others can't.”

Wow! Was this what I was?

This was probably the nearest I had ever been to a baby. I never realized how beautiful and friendly they were. Sarah had decided she liked me without my having to do anything except smile back. Her big, blue eyes were trained on me, eagerly waiting for me to make her laugh again. I put my finger on her nose and she stretched out to do the same to me. Then I held up my finger and moved it quickly to and fro, in front of her face, watching her eyes bounce from side to side in her effort to follow it. Again, she stretched out for me to take her, pouting loudly when her mother, quite naturally, made no move to release her to me.

As Sarah continued to bare her toothless gums — I was fascinated at how she was unable to smile without opening her mouth — I suddenly knew what to do. Or, at least, I knew what Sarah's family had to do. They had to forget about the locked gates and use another way of getting to the lifeboats, like the Firemen's Stairway. This was the narrow, spiral staircase that had been especially built for the grimy, coal-faced workers: the firemen, the trimmers, and the greasers, so that they wouldn't pose a bother to the passengers with their dirt and sweat; that is, the first- and second-class passengers. Things were a little more relaxed for those in steerage. After all, they were the ones living closest to the boiler rooms below. The walkway off this main corridor, to the stairway, was through a plain, discreet door marked “Staff Only,” and it was about 20 giant footsteps away from the family.

I returned to Isobel's side and began a game of “Clap Hands,” whereby I clapped mine over and over again, in the hope that Sarah would imitate me. She did her best and then, when she managed to bang her hands together, she became distracted by her mother, who congratulated her on performing such a wonderful trick. Jim hardly noticed any of this. The lights had flickered for just two seconds and also, I was sure, he had detected the slight tilting of the floor. His tense face was a definite reminder that there wasn't much time. Clapping my hands and rewarding Sarah with a big smile, I began to move away from her, praying that she would struggle to keep her new playmate in sight. She did. With surprising strength, she flung her whole body against her mother's right shoulder, so that she could watch where I was going. All the while I continued to clap hands and wave them about my head. Unsure if I had a voice, or if she could hear me, I mouthed the words, “Come on, Sarah, come to me,” as dramatically as possible.

The child practically stood rigid in her mother's arms and looked extremely put out that I was leaving her behind. Again, she stretched her arms out to me as I now danced around, showing her how much fun I was having … down the corridor. When I ignored her pleading coos to return, she let out a high-pitched shriek of irritation and immediately followed this up by trying to climb over her mother's shoulder. There was just a handful of people standing behind Isobel and all were much too worried to be engaging with an overexcited baby, which Isobel immediately understood on looking around at them. Up to that point, I think she thought that one of them was teasing Sarah.