Eastland (3 page)

The Hurricane Deck was totally uncovered, and in this
miserable drizzle, nearly deserted of passengers
.
I clawed past
long, white lifeboats and huge, inflatable rafts toward the front
of the ship. I managed to reach the railing behind the captain’s
pilothouse without slipping or falling or breaking my neck. And
there, beneath his black umbrella, stood Karel, staring down at
the busy wharf below.

I must have made some noise because at that instant Karel
looked up.
“Dee? Is that really you?” He studied me for a moment. My
heart twisted with anxiety.
Maybe I shouldn’t have come. I was about to duck behind a
lifeboat, when he smiled.
“Stay there. The deck is slippery. I’ll come to you.”
I squeezed the railing, trying to steady the joyous thumping
in my chest as he approached.
“Your mother changed her mind? That’s wonderful!” He put
his hand down on top of mine.
We’d never touched before and the feel of his warm skin on
mine made me light-headed.
“Mama doesn’t know I’m here. I snuck out.”
Karel took in a sharp breath. “What’ll your mother do to you
when she finds out?”
“Don’t know. But I’m not going to worry about it today.”
Most certainly tomorrow, but not now, when Karel was standing beside me. He shifted his umbrella over my head and then
scooted closer. I breathed him in, hoping for another delicious
whiff of chocolate like the one I’d had this morning. But all I got
was a nose full of smelly river.
“I don’t want to be disrespectful to your mother, but I’m
glad you disobeyed her. What kind of trouble could happen on
such a sturdy boa—” Before he could finish, the steamer shifted
sharply. “Hang on, Dee.” Karel clutched my hand as the boat
rolled from riverside back toward the dock. “Feels like she’s
righting herself.” He peered over the railing.
I followed his gaze and saw the wharf drawing closer. “Thank
goodness!”
Karel loosened his grip on my hand. I let out a groan of disappointment. Why had I said that out loud? I could have at least
pretended to be terrified
.
“You okay, Dee?”
“I’m a bit rattled, but I’ll survive.”
“Oh, I hope so.” Karel smiled, his heather-grays shimmering.
“I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you just as we’re getting
to know each other.”
Had I heard him right? Could we really want the same thing?
“Better get your sea legs.” He put his arm about my waist.
“You’re trembling.”
“I-I’ve never been on a boat before.” My voice quivered at his
embrace. “Or in a lake. I can’t swim.” Any better than I could dance.
“Well, then I’ll have to teach you.”
“To dance?”
Karel laughed. “What? No, I could teach you to swim.”
“Oh, right. Sorry. I got, I was. I’m confused. Don’t mind me.”
“But what if I want to? Mind you, that is?” He gave my waist
a little squeeze. “You’re intriguing. Like a mystery begging to
be solved. But surely a girl as pretty as you has heard all this
before?” He stared at me as though he expected an answer. But I
didn’t have one. At least not one I cared to share.
No one, except Mama, had ever called me pretty. And
mysterious? I was loyal and hardworking, but not interesting,
especially not to someone like Karel. Yet here he was, on a ship
with hundreds of available young women, and he was spending
his time with me.
“You keep things to yourself. You’re not outrageous like my
sister.”
Mae? She was the most amazing person I knew. But Karel and
Mae were siblings. Bickering was what the two of them did for
sport. I didn’t want to take sides, so I quickly changed the subject.
“Speaking of sea legs. I know you’ve cruised this lake many
times before. Mae told me all about your summers on the
Michigan shores.”
“Bragged is probably more like it.”
I shook my head. “Mae never brags.” Even though she had
every right to be stuck-up. Their father, Mr. Koznecki, had a
prominent, well-paid position in the finance office at Western
Electric. Mae didn’t have to work. But as soon as she’d turned
the legal working age of sixteen, she had insisted.
“Financial independence,” Mae had proclaimed at the time,
all decked out in her suffragette sash, “helps women to become
self-sufficient.”
“Easy for you to say.” You have a living, breathing father to
help with expenses.
“It is easy for me to say. I work hard for my money and so do
you, Dee. Will you join us in the fight for liberty and equality?”
“I’m already in the fight. I’m a working woman. I help put
food on the table. Pay the rent.”
“You’re a true suffragette and my hero. I could never manage your life. I’m too soft. Seriously, Dee, you should tell your
story. Who better to illustrate our cause to other women? You’re
totally independent. You don’t need a man.”
But I’d like a man. The one standing beside me would do
just fine.
“Yeah, yeah,” Karel was saying. “Mae’s an angel.”
“No, but she’s close.”
He shook his head and laughed again. “Mae’s okay.” Karel
removed his arm from around my waist and stepped back,
planting his feet wide apart. “Feel that? Ship’s back to an even
keel.”
I should have been relieved by his confidence in the ship’s
somewhat questionable stability, but somewhere in my head, a
voice with a suspiciously French accent told me to keep ahold of
the handrail.
“Hey, Cap!” A crewman on the dock hollered up to the pilot
house. The captain appeared at the door, looking craggy and
fearless with his broad shoulders and weathered face. “You can
have the bridge anytime now.”
I looked at Karel for translation.
“He means that on the captain’s command, the Clark Street
Bridge is ready to open.”
The activity on the dock heated up. Two crewmen drew in
the gangplank while others moved into place at the fore and aft
ropes, awaiting the signal from their captain to cast off the lines.
From out on the river, a whistle blew as a tugboat moved into
place in front of our ship.
“The
Kenosha
there will tow us out onto Lake Mich—” Karel
began, when the ship pitched toward the river again. Passengers
yelped in surprise. Quite quickly, the lighthearted atmosphere
onboard turned to one of agitation.
An explosive crash punctured the air.
“What was that?”
“Don’t know,” Karel said. “Sounded like glass shattering.”
I remembered that giant refrigerator in the bar with all those
glass bottles of beer and soda. And what about the throng of
passengers crushing the food counter? Or the people milling
about the dance floor? What about the children racing across
the Cabin Deck? What did they have to hold on to for safety?
They’d be at the mercy of this rolling steamer.
“Maybe we should get back to Mae,” I said as the list toward
the river worsened with each passing second. “All stay together.”
“Must be a problem with the water in the ballast tanks.
Give the captain a moment. He’ll sort it out.” Karel scooted
next to me again. I felt the reassurance of his shoulder touching mine. This was what I’d been dreaming about for years,
but somehow even his presence wasn’t enough to squelch my
jitters.
“I really think we should go below and find Mae.” The French
voice in my head had grown louder and more insistent.
Karel turned. Our eyes met. For one dizzying moment, he
hesitated like he’d been startled, and then he inched even closer.
My heart hungered to taste his lips on mine, but my mind knew
better. This was not the right time for a first kiss.
He must have sensed it too because he pressed back and
snapped his umbrella shut.
“Let’s go.” He held out his hand.
I was reaching for him, anxious to leave, when the crew
began to shout.
“Please! Move to starboard!” they ordered across every deck.
“Hurry, now!”
A commotion arose as passengers on the opposite side of the
Hurricane Deck groped their way from the riverside railings, up
and across the slanting floor, toward us. Below us, passengers
on the Promenade gathered along the dockside rails. People had
finally decided to listen to orders. Relief coursed through me
until I realized I heard music.
The orchestra was still playing? Had Mae heard the warning? Had she stopped dancing?
“We’d better hurry!” I seized hold of Karel’s shoulder with
one hand, my other hand creeping along the rain-slick rail,
as he led the way to the staircase. All around us, passengers
grumbled and griped as the steamer continued to tip toward
the river.
“Saints preserve us!” one man howled. “This ship’s unsteady.
I want off.”
“Are we going over?” a young woman asked her husband as
the two clung to a lifeboat.
“We’ll be fine.” The teenage husband hoped to reassure her,
but I saw the fear in his eyes.
On the wharf below, seamen, police, and bystanders had
paused to gape at the pitching ship. All movement on the Clark
Street Bridge had stopped. Everyone stood still, silently staring
our way. I looked at the clock tower on the warehouse directly
across the river from us. It was seven-twenty-four. Our earlymorning departure was right on schedule.
But was the
Eastland
ready?
“Cast off the stern lines,” the captain ordered.
The dock crew released the aft ropes. The rear of the ship
swung away from the wharf causing the nose of the ship to drift
inward toward the dock. The forward lines were still attached
to the pier.
Then, ever so slightly, my weight shifted. The ship seemed
to be righting herself yet again. I breathed a sigh of relief as the
deck rose up from the river to a more even keel.
Our reprieve didn’t last long. Within seconds, the rising
stopped. The steamer reversed direction and rolled back toward
the river. This time, the listing intensified, as did the stink rising
from the fast-approaching water. Children whined and grabbed
their stomachs. A young, redheaded woman in front of us let out
a moan and retched all over her lacy, yellow frock.
“Karel, Karel!” I tapped his shoulder. “This doesn’t seem
right.”
He turned and stared at me, his taut expression only heightening my fear.
“It isn’t. She’s listing at such a sharp angle; it’ll be hard to
stabilize now.”
The French voice roared.
Mort!
Why hadn’t I listened to Mama? Why had I chosen today of
all days to defy her?
But I knew why.
“Mae!” I screamed.
Karel tossed his umbrella overboard and spun toward the
stairs. I managed to snag the edge of his blazer as he dragged
me along a row of lifeboats, past a pile of rafts, in a frantic race
to reach the exit. From the decks below came the brittle sounds
of dishes breaking followed by wails of panic as chaos erupted
across the entire ship.
On the wharf, all activity froze.
I wanted to add my cries of alarm to the turmoil around me.
Mama had been right. Something deadly was about to happen,
and now, I might never see her again.
In front of me, Karel had stopped moving. He whipped
around and looked at me.
His face was sickly white.
“We’re not going to make it to Mae!”
“No! No! We can’t leave her!”
I released his blazer and sped for the stairs. But the ship had
tipped almost completely onto its side, making the incline too
steep to maneuver. I slipped onto my behind, jarring my hat
right off my head. It slid down the deck toward the putrid waters
and disappeared over the side. I followed, mere seconds behind
my drowned hat.

Karel seized me under one armpit before I could slide down the
slanted deck into the river. Anchoring himself to a rail with one
hand, he pulled me toward him. I reached up for the railings,
which at this pitch were no longer at my side, but towering at an
angle over me. I clung to the wet bars, quaking.

“Only one thing to do.” Karel crawled between the bars to the
outside of the railings and crouched on the exposed hull of the ship.
He reached back through the bars, extending a hand down toward
me. “Now you, Dee! Climb onto the hull with me. She’s going over!”

“What about Mae? She’ll be trapped!”
“There’s no time! Come! Now!”
I dared a look around and realized that everyone along the

dockside of the ship had followed Karel’s lead. Passenger after
passenger scrambled up, or over, or through the railings. Karel
reached down and dragged me through the bars and onto the
hull as the crew escaped to safety through the gangways.

The captain attempted to climb over the rail of his pilot
house but slipped and fell, banging his head. He staggered to his
feet, managing to secure his own safety on the hull.

As the warehouse clock ticked seven-thirty, the
Eastland
capsized into the Chicago River, her forward lines still tethered
to the dock.

Karel and I stood on the slimy, white-steel hull, which now
lay tipped on its side, as horizontal as any street. I had braced
for a tidal wave, an explosion of fury. But the beautiful steamer
had rolled over in eerie silence, having made less of a splash
than these wretched raindrops. The only sound I’d heard was
the shrieking in my head.

Half the ship rested under water on the river bottom, half
above the surface, making the steamer appear as if it had been
dissected lengthwise like a long sliced baguette. A great many
of us had made it through the railings onto the hull, but others
had not been as lucky. Countless passengers dangled from the
sideways-tipped railings, the deck now a vertical wall beside
them.

The young redhead in the lacy, yellow frock hung suspended
near our feet.
“He-l-lp!” Her terrified eyes bored straight into my soul.
Karel dropped to his knees and reached through the bars
for her. But before he could grab hold, her fingers slipped. The
redhead opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out as
she plunged into the murky waters.
I screamed for her, for everyone who had lost their grip or
been thrown overboard. But my cries seemed lost amid the
ear-shattering howls of the countless drowning souls. The river
foamed with people. I could barely see any water; their mass was
so dense. Yet beside me, all movement had stopped. Like the
paralyzed bystanders who’d watched the steamer capsize, the
hundreds of survivors along the hull stood silently, wordlessly,
watching the death struggle in the river.
I pulled Karel to his feet.
“Do you think Mae …” But I couldn’t finish. Mae couldn’t be
out there fighting for her life.
Could she?
“No! Not Mae! Impossible! She’s a strong swimmer.” Karel
turned from me. “Stay put! I’m going to find my sister.”
I seized his arm. “I’m coming with you!”
“No!” He heaved a heavy sigh and looked back at me. “No,”
he said more gently. “I need you to stay safe. You have to wait
here. Please, Dee, for my sake?”
“But what about Mae?”
“I’ll find her, I promise. I won’t come home without her. Now
you promise me something. Remain on the hull ‘til help comes,
then get yourself back to Cicero and stay with my parents ‘til I
return.”
I managed a nod. Of course, Karel’s parents. Mae’s parents!
Karel knew they would be as worried as Mama once word of this
disaster got out.
“I swear! I’ll wait for—”
But Karel had disappeared into the mass of survivors on the
hull. I was as alone as …
Mae!
I searched the river, but the spectacle was more than I could
bear. Yet what if Mae was swimming toward me right now? What
if she was calling my name? I had to keep my wits about me.
Oh, but the noise! The unbearable screams! I wrestled with
the impulse to cover my ears.
No! I would not give in to my fears. I brushed my raindrenched bangs from my eyes and forced myself to watch as
young women, weighed down by long dresses, brassieres,
girdles, and boots, panted for air. Men, in wool suits, stiffcollared shirts, and ties, floundered about. Mothers clutching
their children fought to keep them all afloat.
One mother looked to be losing the battle. She and her
baby went under, but then miraculously, the baby resurfaced,
a look of surprise on its tiny face. I waited for the mother
to reappear, but all I could see were her hands, holding her
squirming infant up for air. Then one by one, the mother’s
hands slipped away. She was gone. The baby flipped onto its
back, still squirming.
A second later, the baby disappeared beneath the surface,
sinking to its death beside its mother. I let out a strangled
scream, overcome now with a terror I’d never known. Mae could
be out there, groping for her life. She had to hold on. Karel
would come for her.
Though the other survivors on the hull still seemed dazed
and motionless, the stunned bystanders on the wharf and the
bridge and the street had jumped to life. They tossed anything
that could float into the water as a life-saving device. Planks and
ropes and loose boards went flying. Poultry and produce workers pitched wooden chicken coops and empty lettuce crates.
A lucky few reached the debris, managing to float or kick
their way toward rescue.
Two women had gotten hold of a coop and were paddling
toward the dock, when a man’s head burst forth from the surface
near them. The man seized the coop, trying to pry it from them,
but the women fought back and won. The man sank back down.
A second later, one of the women jerked and bobbed under. She
splashed back up, gasping for air. Her friend reached for her.
Both women sagged over the coop in apparent relief. All at once,
the second woman jerked and then disappeared beneath the
surface. Then the first woman was gone again too.
I prayed as the first woman bobbed up, splashing and kicking at some unseen menace below. She must have gained her
freedom because a moment later, she went slack and flopped
across the coop. Seconds, then minutes went by, but the second
woman never reappeared. Neither did the man.
A policeman on the wharf pulled the floating woman
to safety, where she collapsed into a heap, crying, “Hazel!
Hazel!”
Was Mae out there right now being dragged to her death?
No! Karel had said Mae was a strong swimmer. Mae would
fight. Mae would survive.
The tugboat
Kenosha
, the one that was supposed to pull the
Eastland
out onto Lake Michigan, maneuvered instead into
place between our capsized ship and the wharf. The tug set
planks in place on each side of her deck, creating a bridge from
our hull to the tug, and from the
Kenosha
to the wharf.
Yet even with the planks in place, no one around me moved.
Were they all too stunned to leave? Or were they like me, waiting
and hoping for a glimpse of a loved one?
My toes tingled. Was the hull vibrating?
I dropped down and pressed my hand against the white steel.
I’d been too busy watching the river to realize that passengers
had been trapped in the decks below. They were alive! People
had survived and were pounding on the hull for help.
Rescuers had arrived on the hull and were cautiously making
their way along the slimy surface toward us. These liberators
worked feverishly to pull trapped passengers through the portholes, but with the openings about a foot and a half in diameter,
only the most slender could slip through.
Could Mae make it through something that tight?
A few yards away, a head appeared through a porthole. It was
a girl about my age. Two men reached for her as she thrust up
her arms. But try as they might, they couldn’t ease her shoulders
through the opening. In the end, they had no other choice than
to lower her back into the ship.
“You can’t leave me here!” Her pitiful cries pierced the air.
“Help me! Please!”
But her two would-be rescuers could do nothing to help.
They both sagged to their knees and bawled.
They weren’t going to leave that girl in that flooded prison?
There had to be another way out!
What if Mae was down there? How would she get out?
Then, as if by some divine intervention, a mirage materialized through the rainy fog. I wiped my wet face and stared in
amazement as a team of welders approached. They were lighting
their torches, preparing to cut holes in the exposed hull, when a
familiar figure came storming at them.
“What’re you doing?” demanded the captain. “I won’t let you
destroy the integrity of my ship!”
“This boat,” a welder sniped, “is already compromised. It’s
capsized. Or haven’t you noticed?”
The captain waved a burly fist. “I’ll right her again. And when
I do, I don’t want any damage to my hull.”
The whole team of welders advanced on the captain. A policeman jumped into the fray.
“Now, gentlemen.” The cop stretched out his arms to hold
back the welders. “Let’s be civil and remember why you’re here.”
“Copper’s right,” one welder said. “Forget the captain.
There’s work to be done.” The welder lit his torch. The captain
charged at him.
Before the team could react, a woman on the dock shouted,
“Toss him overboard!”
“Drown him! Drown him!” echoed a chorus of spectators.
Had the captain injured his head in that fall when he’d attempted to escape? Was he delirious now or just plain deranged?
And why had he survived when so many others had not? Isn’t a
captain supposed to go down with his ship as the captain of the
Titanic had done?
The cop pulled out his handcuffs. “You’re under arrest.” He
secured the captain’s hands behind his back. “For your own
protection.”
Several other policemen rushed forward to assist, and together they escorted the captain off the
Eastland
and through
the angry mob on the dock.
I looked down at my delicate, golden watch. A gift from my
best friend. It was eight-thirty.
An hour had already passed? So where was Mae? Almost all
the survivors had been pulled from the water. All that was left
were shoes and deck chairs and lifeless bodies floating by on the
current.
No! Mae must have been rescued, only I didn’t see it happen.
Doctors had arrived on the dock and were checking unconscious victims for signs of life. One gray-haired doctor was
ministering to a toddler with a pulmotor, a frightening apparatus that looked more like a bicycle pump than a resuscitation
device. The doctor placed a mask over the boy’s nose and mouth
and then pumped air into the youngster’s lungs. A few torturous
seconds later, the boy coughed back to life.
I said a silent Hail Mary, but my joy was cut short by an unnerving scene.
Another doctor was working on a woman who had lost her
dress in the river. She lay stretched out on the dock indecently
exposed in her camisole and bloomers as the doctor pumped
with his pulmotor. All too soon, he stopped. He removed the
mask from the woman’s face.
“She’s gone. Take ’er away.”
Catholic priests had gathered on the wharf, more priests
than I’d ever seen, even at a High Mass at Holy Name Cathedral
in Chicago. One boyish-looking priest knelt over the dead,
indecently exposed woman. He covered her with a blanket and
then gave her last rites before several firemen carried her corpse
away.
Had Mae been given last rites? Had her lifeless body been
taken to some morgue? Or had she been resuscitated and
whisked away to a hospital? Or was she still in the hull? Or still
in the river?
Where was she?
My head throbbed with the frightening possibilities. I’d left
Mae below deck so I could go find Karel. What kind of friend
did something like that? A selfish, thoughtless friend like me. I
pulled my hair, trying to get the clatter and pain to stop.
But there was only one way.