S.O.S. Titanic (8 page)

He wished Grandpop had never complained about the scratch. But Jonnie Flynn was headed for trouble. It would have come to him some way.

Barry turned resdessly. If only he could have talked to Pegeen more! He'd like to have known ... His thoughts were getting hazier and hazier, and the beat of the ship ... He fell asleep.

When he wakened next it was morning and Watley was in the cabin with the breakfast tea. He brought Barry his cup and saucer. "My word, sir. Were your hands cold in the night? You should have rung for me. I will be sure to put an extra blanket on your bed this evening."

"No," Barry said. "I was quite warm." Embarrassed, he pulled off his gloves and pushed them back under his pillow. Was there nothing that escaped Watley's attention?

"I think I'm feeling a little better this morning," Scollins announced. "I think I will even venture to the dining salon for breakfast."

Barry and he went together. On the other side of the elegant room, Barry saw the Goldsteins, his friends of last night, at their table. He waved to them. Cabin 2B. He could go and visit them if he wanted to. The thought made him less lonely.

Mrs. Adair and Jocelyn were already seated with Colonel Sapp.

"Morning! Morning!" the colonel said heartily, and Mrs. Adair's eye flick-flicked to Barry and then back to her plate. He knew she'd recognized him when he walked by last night.

"Did the shark come up onto the deck again?" Jocelyn asked him. For the first time she seemed like a normal little girl.

Barry shook his head. "No, I called to him from the rail. I called, 'Sharky, Sharky! Come and take another bite,' but he'd disappeared."

"Probably couldn't keep up with the ship." Colonel Sapp wiped his mustache carefully on his serviette. "I hear the captain is determined to make New York by Tuesday. He's out to beat the
Olympic?
s record. Wouldn't be surprised if there's a bonus in it for him."

"Is that much speed safe?" Mrs. Adair asked.

"Makes no difference, I should think. The
Titanic
has the strength of fifty thousand horses in her engines, and she's built strong enough to take any speed he fancies. No chance of hitting anything. She'll not meet up with much traffic out here in the North Atlantic."

"There may be icebergs," Barry said.

"Shouldn't be surprised. Be surprised if there weren't, at this time of year." The colonel looked reassuringly at Mrs. Adair. "No need to worry, though, dear lady. There's always a lookout, day and night, in the crow's nest. Those fellows could spot a football in the water a mile away, especially when the sea's this calm."

The sea did seem particularly calm, Barry thought, when he and Mr. Scollins went up after breakfast for a walk on the boat deck.

"I'm happy to be feeling better," Mr. Scollins said. "My whole family has sensitive stomachs." He spoke with satisfaction. "It's a sign of good breeding."

"I'm sure it is," Barry said.

A couple was walking toward them, the woman waving enthusiastically. It was Mrs. Cherry Hat, with her husband, Howard. They exchanged good mornings, then Mrs. Cherry Hat whispered to Barry, "You'll never guess what Howard's been doing. He's counting lifeboats."

"Whatever for?" Mr. Scollins gave Howard the kind of glance reserved for a four-year-old.

"Oh, he's got this fixation," Howard's wife said in a stage whisper. "It's all because of that ridiculous book, you know, the one he read before we sailed. That ship, the
Titan,
didn't have enough lifeboats. That's why they were all
doomed.
"

"This ship doesn't have enough either," Howard said. "Can't understand it." He was looking at Barry. "Could someone please explain to me why there are only sixteen lifeboats on a liner this size?"

"He has counted them every day," his wife said, nodding solemnly. "And the numbers never change."

"There are four toward the bow on this side and another four toward the stern. The same on the port side."

"Perhaps there are others on another deck," Mr. Scollins suggested, frowning.

"No. We've been all over," Howard said.

Mrs. Cherry Hat rolled her eyes. "Indeed, we've been all over."

"There are also four canvas collapsibles," Howard said. "I've multiplied and added till I'm dizzy. According to the posted lists there are two thousand, two hundred and seven people on this ship. All the boats together, filled to capacity, could only carry one thousand, one hundred and seventy-eight. However many times I try, that means no room in the lifeboats for more than a thousand people."

"Howard likes things to add up," his wife said.

"I do like to think everyone would be saved in an emergency."

Barry sensed the rising irritation in Howard's voice. His wife must have sensed it, too.

"You're quite right," she said. "There should be enough lifeboats to carry everyone. You know what, Howard? When we get home we will write to our congressman and to the White Star Line."

"Fine idea." Howard's voice was frosty. "Let us go, Marjorie. I believe we are already quite late for breakfast."

"The man does have a fixation," Mr. Scollins said when they were out of earshot. "However, if what he says is true, we should write to the White Star Line ourselves. Adequate safety precautions never hurt and often help. Mr. Billings and Mr. Fetters are very careful in the shop. We keep a fire extinguisher behind the counter at all times."

Barry nodded. "That's good."

"Speaking of Mr. Fetters, I should check on my bag at the purser's office," Scollins said.

When they'd made sure it was safely locked away, they strolled around the great ship and explored the library, its shelves filled with the classics and all the newest novels, too. Barry borrowed
The Last of the Mohicans
, a novel by James Fenimore Cooper about the American Indians. He didn't expect to see any Indians in Brooklyn, but it would be good to know something about them and about the land beyond the cities. He and Mr. Scollins looked into the gymnasium, where passengers were pedaling stationary bicycles or bucking about on leather horses. There was also a swimming pool, a squash court, a Turkish bath with gilded cooling rooms, and a trained masseuse.

"Good heavens! There's everything," Barry said, and he thought,
With all these luxuries they probably didn't have room for more lifeboats.
But he decided it was wise not to bring up the subject of lifeboats again.

It was strange how little he was worrying about Jonnie and Frank Flynn today. Perhaps because Scollins was with him, or because it was daylight with lots of people around, or ... Pegeen Flynn moved like a shadow in and out of his mind. "They're braggarts, the both of them," she'd said, "but they're not bad. Whatever they did in Mullinmore, they had good reason."
What reason?
he wondered.

This was the afternoon the doctor was supposed to look at his stitches. He went up to the infirmary and afterward to the Marconi Room again. The first rush was over, so today it wasn't so crowded. Barry filled in one of the wireless forms. "Mr. and Mrs. Flynn, Dead Lane, Mullinmore, County Cork," he printed. "Everything all right. Having a wonderful trip. Signed, Jonnie, Frank, and Pegeen." There! It would be his secret gift to her. A way of saying thank you for returning his glove. Her mother might tell her sometime in a letter about how she'd been delivered this message, and how much better it made her feel, and Pegeen would wonder and then maybe she'd smile, knowing.

The wireless operator was still busy, tapping out his messages, his earplugs on. But the second operator, Bride, seemed ready for a chat. He counted the words, and Barry counted out his money. "Are you Jonnie or Frank?" Bride asked. "I know you're not Pegeen."

"No, she's prettier than I am," Barry said, and wondered,
Is she pretty? I expect so.
He remembered her eyes, the same green as the sea; flecks in them, too, brown flecks. He shook his head, embarrassed, though certainly the operator couldn't read his mind the way he could read the tapped-out wireless messages.

"Any more word about icebergs?" Barry asked. "Last time I was here there were some warnings."

Bride jerked his head back toward the first operator. "Sparks is sick to death of those iceberg warnings. They're jamming the airwaves, and we have a backlog of passengers' messages to get out."

"You mean other ships are sending messages about icebergs?" Barry asked.

"They are. 'Surrounded by ice.' 'Stuck in ice.' Sparks just got through to Cape Race, and these silly messages keep interrupting. Of course there's ice. We know that. We don't need them to tell us every half hour."

He pulled the form off the pad. "I can't promise to get this out right away, but we'll send it as soon as we can."

"Thanks," Barry told him.

He'd dawdled so long that there was hardly time to change for dinner, but he made it with minutes to spare. Afterward he and Scollins went to the lounge to watch and hear Gilbert and Sullivan's
HMS Pinafore.
"...I am the monarch of the sea, the ruler of the queen's navee..."
Yes,
Barry thought.
Just the way Captain Smith was the ruler of the
Titanic.

Scollins suggested an early night. "I haven't been sleeping well at all," he said. "We've had an energetic day, Mr. O'Neill, and you have your book. The cabin light will not disturb me. I'd appreciate it if we could retire early. Frankly, I'm not happy to have you wandering the ship without me."

Barry didn't want to wander on his own either, but it was too early to go to bed. "I'll hang about for a while," he told Scollins, "but I won't be long."

He considered going to the Goldsteins' room to ask if he could walk with them, but it was very cold now, even colder than last night. He decided he'd just take a peek outside, then join Scollins in their cabin.
The Last of the Mohicans
and a warm bed did sound inviting.

He opened the swing doors and felt the air sting his face, saw the dazzling whiskers of ice doing their colored dance around the deck lights. He noticed, too, a small crowd of passengers clustered about the railing, looking down.

"Oh!" one of them said. "Look! How beautiful."

What was going on?

"It's an itty-bitty iceberg," a young woman called to him. "Come and see. It's so pretty."

She stood aside so he could take her place by the railing. "It's a baby one," someone said.

The berg was no bigger than a good-sized boulder, floating and turning gently in the ripples that spread from the
Titanic's
bow. Under the stars it gleamed smooth as silk, a shiny, silvery blue.

"I bet you could see yourself in it," a woman said.

"Mermaids' looking glass," a man told her. "In fact, I think I just saw a mermaid over on the other side, combing her hair."

The little berg was being left behind now as the
Titanic
glided on.

"See who sees another iceberg first," someone suggested. But there wasn't another one to be seen in the whole wide width of the ocean, and the group broke up, shivering. Someone said, "Let's go dance. Roger's promised to show us the steps to the hootchy-kootch. It's all the rage."

Barry was glad to get inside, too. He wasn't dressed for this kind of cold. He thought about the ice and the ice warnings. No one seemed to be worried, though, and there were those lookouts way up in the crow's nest. He wasn't going to worry either.

He took the elevator down and was almost at the cabin when he saw Watley.

"Good evening, sir." Watley made his strange little jerky bow. "You're retiring early?

"I am. It's too cold to be out, and I have a good book."

"I was hoping to have a word with you and Mr. Scollins, sir. I just brought him a brandy and milk. Would now be convenient?"

"Of course," Barry said, and he let Watley knock and then open the door to Scollins's irritable "Come in."

Scollins was sitting up in bed reading a pamphlet called "Rubies, Diamonds, and Other Gems." The glass that had held his brandy and hot milk was on the little bedside table, only a white rim of froth along the top to show it had once been full.

Watley stood in the middle of the cabin. "Gentlemen, I know this is a nuisance, but you are my passengers and in my charge. I have only eight cabins under my care, and I take a special responsibility for all of you."

"Yes, yes." Scollins finger-marked his place in the pamphlet.

"As you know, this is my first trip on the
Titanic.
"Watley smiled his tight-lipped smile. "That goes without saying. It appears there is not to be a lifeboat drill. The ship is, after all, unsinkable. But I am accustomed to making certain that my passengers know how to put on their life jackets and how to proceed to their correct boat stations." He paused.

So strange, the way shadows moved and spread across Watley's face, like clouds across a summer sky. It must be because of where he stood and the angle of the two cabin lights, Barry decided. And the movement of the ship, of course.

"And so?" Scollins swung his legs out of bed and sat dangling them, his feet sticking out long and white from the bottoms of his striped pajamas. "I appreciate your attitude, Watley. Carry on."

"Thank you, sir. So far this has been a calm crossing, and of course we do not foresee an emergency. Nevertheless..."

Watley pulled fat white life jackets from the shelves in the wardrobes, showed Barry and Scollins how to put their arms through the canvas tapes and pull the buckles tight in front. "Uncomfortable, I know," he said. "But should anything untoward occur, these will keep you afloat indefinitely."

The life jacket was rough under Barry's chin. He could hardly see or move around the bulk of it. He had a quick flash of Mary Kelly's brother dancing with Pegeen, the canvas tapes and buckles swinging around them. "He can't swim. He's going to keep it on until we get to New York," Mary Kelly had said. Was he really going to wear one of these for all that time?

Watley helped them take the life jackets off and stored them away. "Your nearest lifeboat station would be on the boat deck, starboard side. Should there be"—he paused—"a dangerous situation, put your life jackets on immediately and proceed there as quickly as possible. I will of course be here to assist you. Thank you, gendemen."