Titanic (9 page)

“Come on!” the officer said to me, his temper starting to fray “There's no time to waste!”

I shook my head and stepped away, doing my best to melt into the crowd. I think Mr Hollings tried to follow me, but it was easy to elude him with the confusion of people milling about, and the deafening explosions of the distress rockets still being fired into the air.

There were plenty of other boats; I would wait my turn.

 

 

Writing about all of this is very difficult. There really are no words to describe what those hours were like. I cannot bear to talk, or eat, or – most of all –
think.
And yet, what can I do
but
think?

At the time, I remember feeling dazed, but also curiously alert. The boats were being loaded, and what had previously been casual partings, with promises to meet up soon, were now wrenching, tearful farewells. Most of the people on the deck seemed to be first-class passengers, and I wondered where everyone else was. Probably there were more lifeboats back on the poop deck, or some other convenient place. There seemed to be a limited number up here, and so many people still needed to be taken to safety. I knew almost nothing about ship procedures, but was sure that they would have planned for a situation like this as a matter of course.

That
did
make me wonder why it was necessary for women and children to go first. If there was room for everyone, the officers should just load the boats without any form of selection. There must be something going on that we had not yet been told.

A number of passengers and crew members were watching the lights of what seemed to be a nearby steamer. A ship must be coming to rescue us! The distress rockets worked!
That
was why the officers were allowing the lifeboats to be lowered away with empty seats. They knew that we would all soon be saved. But, as the moments passed, the lights did not seem to be moving. If anything, they appeared farther away. Now some people were saying that the lights were only stars, or maybe the northern lights, and that there was no ship out there at all. Because if there
was
a ship nearby, how could it not respond to the distress rockets?

The band had come out on to the deck, and was playing a series of light, spirited tunes. By now I was so afraid that my mind was jumbled, and I could not concentrate enough to listen. The feeling of collective fear on the deck was starting to spread, and I felt as though I had to escape from it. I would find Robert, and wait with him. I walked slowly towards the aft staircase against the steadily increasing flow of nervously chattering people coming outside.

There were still people mingling in the foyer and other common rooms, but most of the alleyways were deserted. I passed a man wearing what might have been a cook's uniform, and reached out a hand to stop him.

“Do you know where I would find the cabin stewards?” I asked.

He glared at me. “The cabins are
locked,
miss. Go back up to the Boat Deck!” Then, without waiting to see what I was going to do, he continued past me.

I noticed how steep the angle of the floor was, and quickened my pace. The ship was
sinking,
and if I stayed down here much longer, I might well sink right along with it. I would just check our row of staterooms, and then I would head back out. Maybe Robert and the others were on the Promenade, or helping out on the poop deck – if only the ship were not so incredibly
big;
it was impossible to find anyone.

I checked every alleyway I could find on C Deck, but never saw a soul. Was I the last person still below-decks? Would all the lifeboats go without me? Fighting a sudden rush of panic, I was turning to hurry back to the aft staircase when I saw someone in a white uniform jacket just up ahead of me. Robert! He was sitting down on the carpet, his back against the wall, staring bleakly at nothing. A life belt was lying next to him, but he made no move to put it on.

“Thank goodness I found you!” I said. “Where have you been?”

He stared at me, looking shocked. “Margaret, I thought you'd left! What are you doing here?”

“Looking for
you,”
I said. “Come quickly, it's not safe to be down here.”

He looked at me, and his young, sweet face seemed positively ancient. “Please go back upstairs right away, Margaret. Your place is on the Boat Deck.”

My place. My place because I was female, or because I was, by a mere technicality, first class? Or was my place waiting to make sure others boarded before I did? Or, tonight, should “place” have been the most irrelevant thing in the world? Somehow, things I had accepted my entire life no longer made any sense to me.

“Robert—” I began.

“Go on with you, now, and don't worry about me,” he said, looking straight ahead. “There isn't a moment to lose.”

Nothing – not even the great welling fear inside me – would have allowed me to walk away and leave him there alone. I carefully sat down next to him, my balance unsteady on the sloping floor.

“Where are the other stewards?” I asked tentatively.

He shrugged, staring straight ahead. “Gone, I suppose. Maybe having a bit of a nip for courage.”

“Gone to the other boats?” I asked.

Now he looked at me with those ancient eyes. “What other boats?”

“Well, there are not nearly enough for everyone on the Boat Deck,” I answered. “So I assumed that—”

“There are no other boats,” he said.

I blinked, trying to work out what that meant. “How can that – there are still so many people aboard. How will they get off safely?” But then I knew the answer before he even said anything: they
would not
get off safely.
I
would probably not get off safely. The enormity of this was hard to take in, and I had to close my eyes.

It was very quiet. Sometimes I could hear running footsteps, or the unexplained creak of metal, but there was no rushing of water. We must still have been a few decks above the worst of it.

Robert let out his breath. “You know, you never told me how old you are, Margaret.”

“I will be fourteen in October,” I said. Except that now I was unlikely to
see
October.

“For me, it would have been seventeen, in August,” Robert said.

Would have been? God help us.

Then Robert held his hand out. “Please allow me to take you back upstairs now.”

I let him help me to my feet. “I insist that you put on your life belt, first, sir.”

Robert smiled, although his lips were trembling. He fumbled for the life belt, and fastened it around his waist. I reached over to tug on the strap and make sure it was tight enough – which made his smile widen. “Now, come on,” he said, “while there's still time.”

I knew that it might already be too late, but he was right – we had to try. The staircase was so crooked at this point that we both kept stumbling, but finally we made it up to the deck.

“I'll see you off here,” he said. “Are you sure you know where to go?”

I stopped to look at him, stunned. “What do you mean, ‘see you off'? You need to come with me!”

Instead of answering he reached into his pocket and handed me a White Star envelope, with an address written clearly across the front. “Could you post this to my mum? In case I don't get a chance?”

I just stared at him in horror.

“Please
don't argue, Margaret,” he said. “Go and find a boat, quick as you can. I could never rest, knowing otherwise.”

I stood there like a right fool, not sure what to say or do.

“Please, Margaret,” he said. “I do not want to be worrying about you.”

I remembered another dark night when my brother had said,
“Please,
Margaret,” in that same desperate way. “What about you?” I asked, hearing my voice shake.

“I have to go and find my mates, so we can all give it a go together,” he said. “On a night like this, the crew stays together.”

The deck had tilted so badly now that it was hard to keep our balance, and I hung on to his arm.

“Please, Margaret,” Robert said again, his eyes staring intensely into mine. “I do not want to beg you.”

Although it sickened me somewhere deep inside, I nodded – and saw his face relax.

“Good,” he said. “Now my mind will be easy.” He put his hand out and touched my face for a moment. “Would you mind doing me one small favour?”

“Anything,” I said quickly, hoping he would ask me to
stay
here with him.

He grinned at me. “I should like to remember I kissed a pretty girl tonight.”

I nodded shyly, and he gave me a small peck on the lips. This was all new for me, and I was not sure if I was supposed to respond in kind.

“Have you ever kissed a lad before?” he asked gently.

I shook my head, abashed. “No. I am afraid that was not very satisfactory.”

He brushed a small piece of hair away from my face. “So, we'll give it another go, eh?”

This time, our kiss was warm and tender.

Robert hugged me very tightly, and then stepped back, looking pleased. “You're a
natural,
Margaret,” he said. “I'd better find my mates now. Promise me you'll go straight to the boats.”

I swallowed hard, but nodded.

“So, I have your word,” he said.

I nodded, as tears filled my eyes.

“Don't worry, love,” he said. “I'll be fine.” He touched my cheek one last time, and then was gone before I could stop him.

Wherever he went – wherever he
is –
I wish him Godspeed.

 

 

I was crying, but I returned to the lifeboat area. I had promised, so that was what I did. There were still plenty of passengers around, most of them men, but the boats all seemed to be gone. I swallowed, knowing that I had missed my opportunity and would now have to take my chances along with the people who remained. I should
never
have allowed Robert to leave, as we could have tried to swim to safety together. But – I had promised.

For now, I sank into an empty deck chair to absorb the inevitability of my fate. The bow seemed to be almost underwater, so it would not be long now. The orchestra was still nobly playing away, and I took great comfort from listening to the music. I thought momentarily of writing in this diary, but instead, I took out
Hamlet
and began to thumb through the pages.

“Margie-Jane!” a deep voice said. “What are you still doing here? I was certain you and Mrs Carstairs had long since left.”

It was Mr Prescott, who had dined with us, along with his wife, so many times during the voyage. I scarcely knew him, but it was wonderful to see a familiar face.

“She left earlier,” I said. “Where is Mrs Prescott?”

His expression tightened, and I deeply regretted having posed the question at all.

“I sent her on ahead,” he answered. “Now, come, quickly, to the Promenade with me. We may just have time.”

We hastened down there and I saw a number of women and children climbing across a bridge of deck chairs to get into a lifeboat. There
was
one left. I felt elated – and inconsolably guilty at the thought of getting aboard.

“You and the men—” I started.

Mr Prescott cut me off. “We have no time for idle chatter. Please, just come along.” Then he raised his voice. “Let us through, please, gentlemen! I have a young girl here!”

Men moved aside, without the slightest thought for themselves. There are not sufficient words in the English language to honour their valour and gallantry, but I will never forget it – any of it – as long as I may live.

Colonel Astor was there, helping his young wife across the treacherous bridge of chairs. I heard him ask if he could stay with her, due to her condition, but the officer refused him. The Colonel accepted this gracefully, and asked the number of the boat, so he would be able to find her in the morning. Then he moved away, his dog Kitty trailing behind.

A woman was trying to board with her children, but the officers stopped her son and told him to go back and stand with the men. A man who must have been his father protested that the lad was only thirteen. The officer in charge scowled, but let him pass.

Another woman was clutching her young son. Then he was wearing a woman's had – I am not sure who put it on his head, but it may have been Colonel Astor. After that, she and her children were allowed aboard with no comment from the officers. I wished so very much that Robert would find his way here; at only sixteen, they might relent and let him board as well.

Except that I knew they would not, and
he
would not.

“Quickly now,” Mr Prescott said to me. “We mustn't hold things up.”

I did not know what to do, but found myself impulsively hugging him.

“You are a perfect gentleman, sir,” I said, “and a credit to us all.”

He smiled, and let his hand rest gently on my head for a second. “Come on now, child, it's time. Mind the chairs.”

Then, just like that, I was half-climbing, and half-falling, into the lifeboat. I recovered my balance, and made my way to a seat in the bow. As I sat down, the cry to “Lower away!” went up, and my end of the boat dropped towards the water. Next, the bow dropped, and we continued in that erratic fashion.

The last thing I saw was Kitty – noble in her own right – staying close by her master's side.

The
Titanic
was so low in the water that we had a very short trip down. We made balky progress, and one of the two sailors aboard reached for a knife to cut us free. But then we hit the water, and were able to cast off. The portholes were still brightly lit, but I could see water rising unchecked through C Deck and making its inexorable way upward.

“My God,” a woman near me whispered. “She really is going down.”

All around us, heavy objects were crashing into the ocean. At first, I feared that the remaining passengers on the ship had gone mad, but then I understood that the deck chairs and other wooden articles could be used for flotation devices.

We had only two men aboard, so another sailor came sliding down the davit ropes to join us. Several more followed in his wake, landing heavily in the boat. A number of women were knocked down and badly bruised as a result.

Anyone who was near an oar grabbed hold and started rowing. I was too far forward to be of any help, and besides, I was unable to take my eyes off that beautiful stricken ship in what appeared to be her death throes.

“Row with all your might!” a man was yelling. “Before we get sucked under!”

First they rowed one way, and then we reversed direction. I had no sense that anyone was in charge. Two men who had taken a chance and jumped off the ship now swam towards us, their arms flailing wildly. They were hauled aboard, shivering from just that brief period in the freezing water.

Even then, to my amazement, I could hear the brave sound of violins being played aboard the ship. As the bow began to disappear completely, there was an enormous din of shattering glass and crashing metal from inside the ship. People were leaping into the water from all directions, while others scrambled toward the stern in a frantic, hopeless attempt to save themselves.

No one in our boat spoke, or perhaps even
breathed.
The horror of these last moments was too awful to watch, but it was impossible to look away. Several women gasped as the
Titanic
's front funnel suddenly ripped free and smashed violently into the water, and then her stern rose higher in the air.

I am not sure if the engine rooms had exploded, or if the ship broke in half – but amidst all of the crashing noises, the bow had gone under and, slowly, the stern was lifted straight up into the sky. I could hear distant screams as people were thrown off, or else struggled to hang on. The ship's lights were abruptly extinguished, and then came back on for one final second before we were all plunged into utter darkness.

The clamour of smashing, crashing, tearing metal seemed endless. The stern stayed straight up in the air like that, a stark shadow against the stars, for what seemed like an hour, but may only have been a minute. Then, with an almost stately grace, it gradually slipped beneath the surface of the ocean.

The
Titanic
was gone.