Читать книгу Black Man on the Titanic - Serge Bile - Страница 18

How could one not be captivated? There was light everywhere, and every detail had been carefully planned to make life on board easy. The second-class passengers had at their disposal a Louis XVI-style smoking room. With the first class, they shared a barbershop, a pool, a library, a promenade deck, and the sought-after Parisian Café. The design was breathtaking, including the most superb woodwork: the sculpted oak paneling, the mahogany-covered walls, and the white wood pillars gleamed with perfection. While many had described the liner as a city, it was in fact a “floating forest.”

The Laroches had taken possession of their “apartment,” as Joseph called their cabin, with the same joy as the first 944 passengers who, six hours earlier, had boarded the ship in Southampton, the starting point of the Titanic’s journey. The cabin was located on rear deck F. It was equipped with very beautiful furniture, a double sink, and a sofa bed, in addition to the bunks.

“This is better than a five-star hotel. This was no rip-off,” Juliette exclaimed.

The crossing had cost the entire family a little over forty-one pounds; the ticket, number 2123, delivered by the White Star Line, proved it. Joseph kept it safely in his jacket pocket. To him, second class on the Titanic was worth first class on any other liner. There was no comparison anyway with the modest service he’d received, eleven years ago, on the boat that had taken him to France.

"I enjoyed myself as if I were on a summer palace by the seashore surrounded by every comfort. I was up early before breakfast and met the professional racquet player in a half-hours warm-up for a swim in the six-foot-deep tank of saltwater heated to a refreshing temperature."

—Colonel Archibald Gracie, Titanic survivor

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At 8:10 p.m., illuminated by a thousand lights, the Titanic left Cherbourg for a last stopover in Queenstown23, Ireland, where it picked up another one hundred and twenty-three travelers, mainly third-class passengers, some escaping poverty, others in search of adventure, all believing in a better tomorrow. Before they could be on their way to live the American dream, however, they first had to pass the health inspection—only required for the third class—before boarding, with the risk of being driven back if signs of any serious disease were discovered. These last Irish travelers joined Slav, Scandinavian, Chinese, or Lebanese immigrants who’d embarked in Southampton and Cherbourg. Housed in more modest cabins, they occupied the front and back of the ship, with their own dining room, smoking room, and a bar for playing cards. When they wanted to stretch their legs, members of the third-class didn’t get to walk along an open deck like the wealthier passengers; instead, they walked on the aft well deck, which also served for walking the dogs.

Just like these immigrants, Juliette, Simone, and Louise were also leaving for a great adventure: for the first time, they would visit Joseph’s birth country, this faraway land he so often told them about. Was it as beautiful as he said? Although a bit apprehensive, Juliette was hopeful. The first hours spent on the Titanic reassured her. She was no longer doubting the future as much, and was enjoying the company of her handsome husband and their adorable daughters.

"Each night, the sun sank right in our eyes along the sea, making an undulating glittering pathway, a golden track charted on the surface of the ocean which our ship followed unswervingly until the sun dipped below the edge of the horizon, and the pathway ran ahead of us faster than we could steam and slipped over the edge of the skyline—as if the sun had been a golden ball and had wound up its thread of gold too quickly for us to follow."

—Lawrence Beesley, Titanic survivor

“My mom was very enthusiastic,” Louise recounts at the commemoration on the Cherbourg dock, on April 19, 1996. “She was describing the luxury of the ship, the quality of the music band.”24 Louise is referring to a letter written on the Titanic by her mother. She greatly treasures it. “Knowing what happened after, one cannot help feeling great emotion while reading this correspondence.”

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During the night of April 14th to 15th, 1912, in the freezing waters of the North Atlantic Ocean, off the coast of Newfoundland, unimaginable tragedy struck. Oh, the terror. The horror! “We hit an iceberg,” Captain Edward John Smith announced to the radio operators. “Be ready to send a distress signal!”

While the Titanic sank, attempts were made at evacuation. Everywhere, the scene was horrendous. Passengers screamed. Others cried. In the melee, as the passengers tried to access a lifeboat, it was everyone for themselves, and many gave in to panic.

In the end, out of the 2,208 people on board, 1,496 perished.

“My mother, my sister and I were saved. My father was not allowed to get on a lifeboat. He did not survive.” Behind her round-rimmed glasses, Louise is emotional. The ceremony on the Cherbourg dock is ending; she had not set foot on the premises since the tragedy.

She describes her father as a hero. Out of everything they told her when she was old enough to understand, this word is the only one that brings the hint of a smile on Louise’s face. Her father, a hero! Her mother described the final scene to her so well that she knows each detail by heart.

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