Читать книгу Women and Children First: Bravery, love and fate: the untold story of the doomed Titanic - Gill Paul, Gill Paul - Страница 22

The engines had stopped almost immediately, and the silence that followed was eerie. They’d got used to the constant roar down there on E Deck and modulated their voices to be heard above it, so the next person who spoke sounded unnaturally loud.

‘The dampers are shut down.’

Reg didn’t know the speaker.

‘We definitely hit something. Maybe it was a whale,’ Bill speculated.

‘Poor thing. It’s going to have one hell of a sore head,’ someone else chipped in, and the mood of slight alarm lifted.

‘That’s going to take the shine off the paintwork. Maybe we’ll have to go back to Belfast for a repaint.’

Reg knew it wasn’t a whale, though. A whale wouldn’t account for that unearthly scraping sound, which had lasted several seconds, and even the largest whale couldn’t have jolted a ship of this size quite so hard. As he tied his shoelaces, he was turning over two theories in his head. Either it was a problem with a propeller – he’d been on a ship before where one of the propellers came loose and it caused a cacophony and made the ship judder like crazy – or they’d hit something solid and hard. Maybe another ship. Maybe an iceberg. Whichever it was, he had an overwhelming urge to get out on deck and see it.

‘Where are you going, man?’ John asked sleepily.

‘I’ll find out what’s happened and come back and let you know.’ He grabbed his jacket and before John could reply, he’d hurried out of the dorm and along the corridor to the staff deck at the front of the ship.

As soon as he opened the door and stepped outside, he found his answer. Small chunks of ice littered the deck, most of them no bigger than his clenched fist.

A seaman was idly kicking some around.

‘That was a close shave,’ he commented when he noticed Reg standing there. ‘Big as the Rock of Gibraltar, she was. Came out of nowhere.’ He had a Scottish accent.

‘We hit her, though,’ Reg said, peering backwards over the rail to try to see the berg, but the night was too black. He couldn’t make out a thing, apart from a sprinkling of stars up above.

‘Just a side swipe. Did you not feel us pull hard a-starboard? It’s as well someone up on the bridge had their eye on the ball.’

The ship had come to a standstill without her mighty engines powering her. Reg picked up a chunk of the ice and smelled it, and was surprised to detect a faint scent of rotting vegetation. Surely icebergs were just frozen water? It seemed odd.

‘It’ll be two or three hours before we’re on our way again,’ the seaman was saying. ‘Captain Smith isn’t one for cutting corners, so it’ll be a full inspection, prow to stern.’

His last words were drowned by a deafening hiss as the turbines, now at rest, let off built-up steam. Surely anyone who had slept through the collision would be woken by this?

Reg considered taking a piece of iceberg back to show the lads in the dorm. Maybe he could get revenge on one of those galley scullions who’d been messing around earlier by slipping it into their bed, so they woke up freezing cold and lying in a damp patch. More than that, Reg wanted to tell everyone in the dorm what he’d heard about the collision and see what they made of it. Maybe some of them had been on ships that struck icebergs before. There were lots of them about when you took the northern transatlantic route in the spring, because all the Arctic glaciers were melting and icebergs broke off and floated south.

He nodded goodbye to the seaman, picked up a chunk of ice and went inside, walking in the direction of the dorm. But as he passed the staff staircase, some instinct made him change his mind and head up to the boat deck instead. There were bound to be officers on deck and by eavesdropping on their conversations, he’d get more information. He wanted to know what was going to happen next. Had the ship been damaged? How long would they be stuck there before they continued on their way? He tossed his chunk of ice overboard as soon as he got out onto the boat deck and wiped his hand dry on his trouser leg.

There were lots of people standing around but the first person Reg recognised was Second Officer Lightoller. He was a stern, very formal man, always impeccably turned out, but now he was dressed only in pyjamas. He wasn’t even wearing a dressing gown and must have been freezing in the night air, but still he walked with military posture, an incongruous sight striding across the deck towards the officers’ quarters in his bedroom slippers.

Small groups of crew and passengers stood around talking in low voices. The hiss of the escaping steam drowned them out and all Reg got was a vague impression of murmuring, and a sense of curiosity. Everyone was waiting and wondering, or peering into the dark trying to see what they had struck. He stopped close to one group and listened in.

‘I’ve never seen an iceberg before. What do they look like?’ a woman asked, but no one answered her.

‘I heard Colonel Astor said to the bar steward, “I asked for ice in my drink but this is ridiculous.”’

‘Someone told me it was Ismay who said that.’

‘Well, someone did.’

One man pointed out to sea and several more turned to follow the direction of his finger. A couple of crew members joined the group and Reg wandered over to see what had attracted their attention.

‘She looks as though she’s stopped for the night,’ he heard someone say and, glancing towards the horizon, he thought he could just make out tiny pinpricks of light. He squeezed his eyes shut then refocused on the spot and was pretty sure they were right: there was another ship out there. It was good to know they weren’t completely alone in the vast darkness – just in case. He didn’t clarify to himself what the ‘case’ might be.

Just then, he saw Captain Smith coming down the steps from the bridge and he hurried in his direction to try and be close enough to hear what was said. Before he got there, an order was given and several men scurried towards the lifeboats and began unfastening the cumbersome tarpaulin covers. Reg felt a twinge, like a fist clenching round his heart: why were they preparing the boats? It must be bad news. Then he told himself it was most likely a precaution. There was probably some maritime rule about it, and Captain Smith would, of course, follow it to the letter.

Near the entrance to the Grand Staircase, the captain was hailed by Colonel Astor and this time Reg was close enough to make out his words.

‘We’re putting women and children into the lifeboats. I suggest you and your wife go below and don your life preservers and some warm clothing.’

‘Thank you for your frankness,’ the colonel said.

Reg wanted to grab the captain’s arm and ask all the questions that were swirling round in his head, but he strode off in the other direction, all brusque and busy.

We must be holed, Reg decided, and they want to get passengers off for their own safety while we carry out the repairs. Lots of doubts assailed him, though. Why put thirteen hundred passengers, including some of the world’s wealthiest families, into wooden rowing boats in the middle of the night if it wasn’t strictly necessary? In all his years at sea, he’d never experienced anything like it. Even when they dropped a propeller that time, they had limped to port with everyone still on board. But then, they had been in the Mediterranean and not far off shore, while the Titanic was still two days’ sail away from New York.

How was it going to work? They hadn’t had a lifeboat drill on the Titanic. No one would know where to go. Most other ships made the passengers take part in a mock evacuation during the first day on board, so they could find their way to their allocated lifeboats if need be, but no one had bothered on this voyage. He supposed it hadn’t been thought necessary, but now it meant they risked chaos. People might start swarming up to the boat deck and crowding onto boats.

And why women and children first? Surely they would remain calmer with their menfolk by their sides? Of course, there weren’t enough boats for every passenger to have a place all at once, but he imagined the ship he’d seen on the horizon would be radioed to come and pick them up so the lifeboats could return for more. If it came to that. Which it probably wouldn’t.

He felt charged up, anxious to be doing something to help, so he walked across to the officer who was overseeing the preparation of the lifeboats on starboard side.

‘What can I do, sir? Can I help with the boats?’

The officer glanced at his steward’s jacket. ‘Go and rouse passengers. Tell them to make their way up here wearing warm clothes and life preservers. No panic, though. Tell them it’s nothing to worry about.’

‘Aye aye, sir.’

Reg walked to the Grand Staircase, and he must have assumed a new air of authority and purpose because now passengers stopped him and asked what they should do. He passed on the message, adding some elaboration of his own.

‘It’s maritime rules after an incident such as this, sir. A few hours and we’ll be on our way.’

On A Deck, he looked into the smoking room and saw some men sitting round a card game, drinks by their elbows. There was concentrated silence apart from the flare of a match as someone lit a cigar, and a clinking sound as the barman tidied his stock.

Reg stood in the doorway for a moment wondering if he should say anything, but he didn’t recognise any of the men and shyness made him reluctant to make an announcement to strangers. They probably wouldn’t take him seriously in his victualling steward’s uniform. What did he know? No one so much as looked round, so after a while he closed the door and carried on down the stairs towards the first-class cabins on B Deck.