Women and Children First (11 page)

As Reg walked along B Deck, passengers were beginning to emerge from their cabins, fiddling with the ties on their cork life preservers.

‘Do we need to put these on now?’ someone asked him.

‘No, just take them up on deck with you,’ he improvised. He wasn’t sure if that was the correct advice but reasoned that the officers on deck would soon set them straight.

Since he seemed to be in possession of information, a few people crowded round him with more queries.

‘Is it true that the ship’s taking on water?’

‘No, sir, not that I’ve heard.’ He wondered where they got that from. Funny how rumours spread.

‘Do we all have to get in the lifeboats? Are they safe?’

‘Safe as houses,’ Reg told them. ‘The captain will decide whether they’re to be lowered or not.’

‘Should we take our valuables with us? I’ve got some money lodged with the purser.’

‘No, just take yourselves. Even if the lifeboats are lowered, you’ll be back on board again before long.’

Once they had assured themselves that he knew little more than they did, the group dispersed and Reg continued along the corridor to the Graylings’ suite. Most other doors were ajar, evidence that the room steward for the floor had already knocked and passed on the message. Reg listened, but couldn’t hear any sound from within the Graylings’ suite. Were they there? He knocked and waited, but no one came. He knocked again, more loudly this time. Still there was no reply. Finally, he tried the handle and found the door locked. That was odd. No one locked their doors on board. Still, he assumed it meant they had gone up to the boat deck already.

Reg saw the steward coming along, checking rooms and turning off the lights if the occupants had departed.

‘Hey, what are you doing?’ he called, in a less than friendly tone.

‘I was looking for the Graylings. Have you seen them?’

‘If they’re not answering the door, they must have gone already. What do you want them for anyway?’

‘Nothing.’ He blushed.

‘Well, go and mind your own beeswax.’

Reg made his way down to C Deck, but the stewards appeared to have roused everyone there as well. There was nothing for him to do. Suddenly, too late to duck out of the way, he saw the Howsons coming towards him. She was bundled up in a pale mink coat and matching hat, and Reg couldn’t help but think her outfit seemed too glamorous for climbing into a ship’s lifeboat in the middle of the night. But then, come to think of it, most of the other first-class women were dressing up in their furs and fancy clothes. It was yet another opportunity for a fashion show.

‘Reg, isn’t this all a bore?’ Mrs Howson asked. ‘I was sleeping like a baby when we were awoken. Do we really have to go up on deck?’

‘I’m afraid so, ma’am. Captain’s orders.’

‘How long will it take?’

‘I couldn’t say.’

‘Well, I think it’s outrageous, and I plan to complain to the captain personally.’

‘Don’t be an idiot, Vera,’ her husband admonished. ‘Let’s go.’ He grabbed her arm, prompting a sharp and most unladylike response, which Reg took as his cue to press on along the corridor.

Half a dozen passengers were clustered outside the purser’s office, clutching their receipts, and Reg could see the two lads inside were being run ragged trying to track down each individual deposit box filled with money and jewels.

‘We’ll be back in a couple of hours. There’s really no need, ma’am,’ one of them was insisting.

‘I’m not going anywhere without my Fabergé egg,’ an elderly woman told him.

Reg stopped for a moment, considering whether to volunteer his assistance. He wanted to keep busy but there was nothing for him to do. The pursers would never let a victualling steward into their hallowed office, so he decided to go down to the crew dorm and find John.

As he passed the first-class restaurant, he noted the time: twelve-thirty-five. It was only fifty-five minutes since the collision, but it felt like hours. Time seemed to have slowed down – or could the clock have stopped?

Descending the staff stairs to E Deck, Reg noted that the steps felt odd. He hadn’t felt any difference on the richly carpeted passenger stairs, but the hard staff ones seemed to be at a strange angle, so that when he put his foot down there was a curious sense of tilting forwards. The ship was listing, he realised. Noticeably listing. His heart began to beat just a little bit harder. That seemed to imply they
were
taking on water. Maybe that passenger had been right.

There was no one in the dorm. No John, no Bill. Someone had come and given them instructions, and Reg felt a little panicky that he hadn’t been where he was supposed to be and now he’d been separated from his fellow workers. It seemed imperative that he found them as soon as possible. Before leaving the dorm, he went to his bunk and retrieved his passport and a St Christopher Florence had once given him, which he kept under his pillow. He checked his trouser pocket and made sure the five-pound note was still there. Then he reached under the bunk and pulled out a life preserver. There was only one left, which meant John must already have taken his. Clutching it to his chest, he hurried out of the door and back to the tilting staff stairs, which he bounded up two at a time, all five floors to the boat deck.

When Reg emerged panting for breath on deck, lifeboats were being loaded. A nearby boat was hanging on its davits, suspended over the side and Fifth Officer Lowe was standing with one foot in the boat and one on the railing as he helped an elderly woman to step in. She was terrified and in the end Lowe had to hoist her across and deposit her in the boat, where she sat down heavily on a bench, looking dazed and scared. Others hung back, glued to their partners, unwilling to commit themselves to a wooden rowing boat hanging seventy-five feet above the surface of the ocean.
And who could blame them?
Reg thought.

‘Who’s next? Any more women or children here?’ Lowe called out. ‘We’re about to lower away.’

As Reg watched, the crew tried to persuade a large American woman to get in but she was adamant she wasn’t leaving the ship. Suddenly a slender figure appeared clutching a velvet cloak around her. Her back was to Reg but as she stepped up to the rail, she turned and he saw from her profile that it was the beautiful girl from the boat deck, the one who had thrown her fur coat overboard. She had an elegance about her as she skipped, light as air, into the boat. It was as if this was a fun new game at a cocktail party, rather than a mid-Atlantic emergency.

Reg hurried to the rail to get a better look and saw that he hadn’t been wrong; she was exquisite, with the kind of face you would want to keep looking at from different angles, so you could memorise its perfection. She took a seat near the rear of the lifeboat and looked back as if waiting for someone else to follow. The crew had begun to untie the ropes, when another figure stepped forward.

‘Room for one more?’ asked a man’s voice. It was Mr Grayling. Without waiting for an answer he stepped smartly up to the rail and climbed straight over into the boat, where he sat down beside the girl and smiled at her.

‘But it’s women and children first!’ Reg wanted to call out. He looked at Officer Lowe, waiting for him to issue a reprimand, but instead he gave his men the order to start lowering.

Reg leaned over the rail as the boat began to descend jerkily towards the glinting ocean surface so far below. The girl was holding onto Mr Grayling’s sleeve and saying something to him that Reg couldn’t hear. But where was Mrs Grayling? Could that be her in the black shawl? No, it wasn’t. He scanned the occupants of the lifeboat, noting that there were a few other men on board – but no sign of Mrs Grayling. How could her husband abandon her? Surely married couples should try to stay together and protect each other at a time like this? Reg felt furious that Mr Grayling would prioritise his mistress on that of all nights.

The boat was only half full; there would have been plenty of room for more. He wondered if they were planning to load more passengers from a lower deck. Would Mrs Grayling board there? Where on earth was she?

As the lifeboat disappeared into the gloom, Reg took a mental note of the number on the side: Lifeboat 5. It seemed important to remember that.

He peered out towards the horizon, to left and to right. Where was the other ship they were going to offload passengers onto? Surely it should have drawn closer? It must be round on the port side now, he guessed. He hoped they wouldn’t take too long transferring passengers and sending the lifeboats back, because the
Titanic
was beginning to feel distinctly queer underfoot.

When she woke, for a few seconds Juliette couldn’t remember where she was. Her mother was shaking her shoulder.

‘We have to get up, dear. The captain wants us all up on deck.’

Juliette opened her eyes a fraction and mumbled ‘Why?’

‘Something about an accident. It’s nothing serious but we have to get into the lifeboats.’

Juliette closed her eyes again. All she wanted to do was sleep. ‘Can’t you go without me?’

‘It seems everyone has to go. I hope it won’t take too long. Honestly, have you ever heard the like? Waking first-class passengers in the middle of the night and making them go out in the cold air? I’ll be asking for a refund of some of the fare if we’re not back in bed within an hour.’

Her mother was bustling around, and Juliette heard the wardrobe doors open.

‘I thought you could wear the tweed coat with cherry velvet trim over your blue wool dress. They’re probably the warmest clothes you have with you. I didn’t bring much winter clothing because it never occurred to me we’d be out in the night air.’

‘What’s the time?’ Juliette asked.

‘Twelve-thirty. Hurry now. The steward is coming back for us in five minutes and you’ve got your hairpins in.’

There was no option but to get up and drag herself over to her dresser to start pulling out the carefully positioned pins and let the locks of hair fall to her shoulders. She wound her hair into a quick chignon, secured it with a tortoiseshell comb and got dressed. When the steward arrived she was bent double fastening the fiddly buttons on her boots.

‘Please put on your life preservers, ladies.’ He retrieved them from the top of the wardrobe and demonstrated how to slip them over their heads and tie the ribbons around the side.

Rubbing her eyes, Juliette followed as he led them up the Grand Staircase to the boat deck. As they emerged she heard the orchestra playing a ragtime classic: ‘Come on and hear, come on and hear, Al-ex-an-der’s Rag-time Band’. She saw groups of first-class passengers hovering: Benjamin Guggenheim talking to his valet, and the Howsons standing with several other couples she recognised but hadn’t been introduced to.

‘This way, please.’ Their room steward indicated and beckoned them towards a lifeboat that was being filled. ‘Fifth Officer Lowe will take care of you.’ He turned to Lowe. ‘These women are travelling alone.’

‘Please allow me to assist you into a boat, ma’am.’ Lowe extended an arm to Lady Mason-Parker.

‘Is it strictly necessary, officer? My daughter hasn’t been feeling at all well. She’s still queasy and this won’t do her any good.’

‘I’m afraid it’s captain’s orders, ma’am. We’ll get you and your daughter safely back to bed as soon as we can.’

‘Oh well, really,’ Lady Mason-Parker grumbled, but something about his polite accent and smart officer’s uniform made her obey.

There were four other women in the boat as they stepped in, and Lady Mason-Parker nodded in greeting before taking a seat right at the back. Juliette followed her, still groggy from her sudden awakening from deep sleep and overwhelmed with a sense of unreality. All the passengers seemed confused by the contrast between the gaiety of the music and the seriousness with which the officers were issuing orders, the glamorous outfits many were wearing and the bulky and distinctly unglamorous life preservers tied on top. Juliette looked over the side of the boat and gasped at the sheer drop downwards. It was perhaps the first time she understood that the situation might be dangerous. They wouldn’t off-loading passengers like this unless there was a good reason – but what could it be?

She and her mother watched in silence as their boat filled up with women, none of whom they knew. The cold was beginning to bite and Juliette pulled down the sleeves of her coat to cover her fingers. Why had she not thought to bring her muff? Her mother was uncharacteristically silent. Normally she would have been commenting on the other women’s clothes or their hairstyles but she didn’t say a word, even when one woman got in wearing her coat over a nightgown. Juliette glanced round and caught an unguarded expression on her mother’s face. She was afraid.

‘Lower away,’ someone shouted, and their boat lurched down about five feet and tipped to the side, causing several women to scream in terror. Juliette gripped her mother’s arm, her throat too tight to make a sound. She felt a cramping in the pit of her stomach, as if the baby objected to this nocturnal activity.

Suddenly there was a scuffle above them. A man of Mediterranean appearance stood poised as if about to jump into their boat, but Lowe grabbed his arm and pulled him to the deck, amid much shouting. Two other crew members came forward to restrain him and Lowe himself came to the edge of the rail and jumped down into their boat, causing it to swing dangerously on its ropes. A fresh outbreak of shrieks pierced the air.

‘They must know what they’re doing,’ Juliette tried to assure herself. ‘They wouldn’t risk our lives.’ She counted five men on the boat and around forty women. Were there sufficient men to row and steer? Did they know what they were doing? Where had they been told to go?

Suddenly there was a white flash in the sky far above and, shortly afterwards, another, then another. Was it a fireworks display, part of the onboard entertainment to accompany the lively music they could still hear playing?

‘These are rockets,’ her mother said quietly. ‘They’re trying to attract the attention of other ships.’

Juliette felt goose bumps all over. ‘What does that mean?’

‘I wish I had brought our jewellery. I could kick myself for leaving it behind.’

‘Do you think we are being transferred to another ship? If so, I’m sure they’ll have our luggage sent on.’

‘If it’s possible, I’m sure they will,’ her mother replied in a tone that suggested she thought otherwise.

Juliette struggled to process her meaning. Some words came into her head:
Things like this don’t happen to people like us.
Her existence over the last nineteen years had been cushioned by money and social status, and untouched by tragedy. Her grandfathers had both passed away when she was young, too young to remember them, but no one else she knew had ever died. They had been safe, because they were Mason-Parkers. They were the privileged few.

The lifeboat lurched downwards again and she gripped the side hard, keeping totally still so as not to contribute to the alarming rocking motion. Down they went steadily now, past lit portholes with no one behind them, past sheer metal sides studded with rivets, until there was a bump as they hit the ocean.

‘We’re taking on water,’ a woman cried.

‘Get the plug. Find the plug!’ Men shouted at each other and pushed women out of the way until the plug had been located and lodged firmly in place. Juliette bent over to touch the bottom of the boat and found half an inch of water sloshing around. She lifted the hem of her coat and tucked it under her thighs so it wouldn’t get wet.

‘Man the oars,’ Lowe shouted, and their craft began to glide away from the side of the
Titanic
that towered above them like a smooth vertiginous rock face. Another lifeboat was just in front and it seemed as though theirs was following it.

Juliette wished they could stay close to the ship. It seemed safer than heading out into dark nothingness. There was no lamp on board and the only light was that cast by the
Titanic
’s lights. What if they got lost at sea? What if a big wave tipped them over?

But the water was as smooth as glass, the only ripples those caused by their oars.