Every Man for Himself

by Beryl Bainbridge

  We were hurrying aft when Hopper spied Charlie sitting on a bench at the base of the second funnel. He was cradling Wallis in his arms. ‘She won’t stop shaking,’ he said. ‘Rosenfelder’s given her his coat but it hasn’t made any difference.’ Guiltily, I remembered my promise. I told him not to move from the spot, not unless he could manage to get Wallis into a life-boat. He pursed his mouth and said that was unlikely. He had tried to do just that ten minutes before and she’d bitten his hand.

  Scurra was still in the Palm Court. The man with the bottle of Gordon’s gin had joined him; he was middle-aged and had mild, if somewhat inflamed, blue eyes. The bottle was almost empty but Scurra hadn’t been drinking.

  ‘Wallis needs you,’ I said. ‘She has to talk to you.’ There didn’t seem any point in beating about the bush.

  ‘About anything in particular?’

  ‘Come now,’ I cried. ‘You know damn well what I mean.’

  ‘Is this a private conversation?’ asked the gin drinker.

  ‘What would you like me to say to her?’ Scurra said. ‘What would you advise?’ His expression was grave, which took the steam out of me.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘Perhaps you could pretend to—’

  ‘If it is,’ our table companion interrupted, ‘I can always go away. I’m used to going away. I can tip-toe away like a fairy.’

  ‘Pretend what?’ Scurra asked.

  ‘To care,’ I said.

  ‘It’s dangerous to pretend—’

  ‘But if it gets her into the boats—’

  ‘And what if she should survive?’ he said. ‘No doubt I would then be faced with a breach of promise case.’ Now he shook with laughter, but I reckoned it wasn’t genuine.

  ‘Perhaps all she wants is for you to say goodbye.’

  ‘Just say the word,’ muttered the drinker, his head sinking to the table.

  ‘There’s not much time,’ I said. ‘She’s sitting up there, refusing to enter the boats. Do you want her on your conscience?’ He said slowly, ‘I’m not entirely sure I have one.’ He looked away, trying to find an argument. I couldn’t force him to go with me, I knew that. The drunk was dreaming, snorting. Scurra patted his head like a mother.

  I was prepared to give up when he said, ‘I’m not as cruel as you think, you know. I do have my feelings, though they appear to be different from those generally considered suitable. There are many women on this ship who would have granted me their favours, just as there are many men who stepped into the breach once it became obvious I was not available. I say this without vanity, hard as it is for someone of your age and disposition to believe. I am simply stating a fact. I chose Wallis because I recognised a creature similar to myself, that is, in matters of the heart. I use the phrase loosely, you understand, for in a liaison such as I describe the heart is usually absent.’

  ‘Then you chose wrong,’ I said hotly. ‘She’s fearfully upset.’

  ‘That is because of unfortunate circumstances,’ he reasoned. ‘I didn’t expect to couple with death so soon after engaging in what passes for love.’

  ‘I don’t want to hear it,’ I shouted, and I meant death, not the other thing, of which I knew nothing.

  ‘Supposing I come with you,’ he argued, ‘and do as you say. Ten to one she’ll rebuff me. Women are like that, don’t you agree? And if I say those comforting words, which have no basis in truth, she may spend the rest of her life deceived into believing that the best has gone for ever, simply because this night is like no other.’

  I could stand it no longer and jumped to my feet. ‘Goodbye,’ I said. ‘There is nothing more to say.’

  ‘Goodbye,’ echoed the drunk, struggling upright. ‘Delighted to have met you.’

  All the same, Scurra came with me. I led him to Charlie who had remained at his post with Wallis in his arms. He and I stood a little way off to give them privacy. Poor old Charlie was blue with cold, and mystified, but he held his tongue. We could hear a hubbub of angry voices coming from the port side and women screaming.

  I don’t know what Scurra said to her. At one point she lifted her hand as though to slap his face and he caught her wrist to stop her. After no more than a few minutes she rose and came over to Charlie. She had recovered her poise and even something of her vivacity. She said matter-of-factly, ‘I’m ready to go now,’ and tugged the collar of Rosenfelder’s fur coat more snugly about her ears.

  ‘Ships that pass in the night,’ murmured Scurra, as he sauntered back inside. It was then that I heard the second gun-shot, followed by several more, and a scream louder than all the rest.

  I didn’t recognise Rosenfelder right away because Adele knelt over him, holding his head against her breast and shielding his face with her hand. We prised her away from him, fearful he might be trampled underfoot by the mob who raged about the collapsible now being lowered towards the deck. Between us Charlie and I got him to the nearest bench and laid him down. He wasn’t badly hurt but he squealed like a stuck pig when I handled his shoulder too roughly. He said he’d been endeavouring to get Adele closer to the boat when an officer had begun firing wildly into the crowd. Another officer had tried to take the gun off him because of the women, but by then it was too late. He thought he had been hit in the upper part of the arm.

  I left Charlie in charge of him and, ordering Adele and Wallis to hold on tight to the tails of my coat, thrust my way into the centre of that frenzied throng. Groans and curses accompanied my every struggling inch. The list was so bad now that people fell over and were stepped upon and we didn’t care. In an attempt to stop all but the women from boarding the officers had linked arms in a circle about the boat. Fortunately, one of them recognised me from my labours on the enclosed promenade and gestured me on. When I reached him I swung the girls round, Wallis first, and he pulled her through. I was in the process of thrusting Adele to safety when that damn gun went off again and in the surge backwards lost my place and was swept to the perimeter. Adele trembled like a leaf and appeared quite incapable of going forward again and, indeed, I too felt I didn’t have it in me, for I was exhausted. I had to half carry her back to the bench. Her cloak had been torn off and the front of her gown was smeared with blood, though it was Rosenfelder’s not hers. She sat shivering beside the wounded tailor; wincing, he eased himself out of his jacket and draped it about her shoulders. ‘You go on,’ he said to me. ‘I expect you have things to do.’

  ‘If I find there’s another boat,’ I told him, ‘I’ll come back for you and Adele.’ He nodded. I didn’t say goodbye to him, not until later, and I was sorry for it, for when I did he couldn’t hear me.

  We walked towards the stern. Midships, another collapsible was edging its way down to the water. It appeared fairly full. As we watched it go a figure climbed on to the rail beneath, stepped out, and sliding rather than leaping landed half over the gunwale. His head was in the water and when they jerked him upright and he fell on his back we saw it was Ginsberg, insensible and still clutching his sticky handkerchief. I guess his fall had knocked the breath out of him. For a moment it crossed my mind that I too mightmake a jump for it, butalready the boat was moving out of the lights. ‘Rats always leave a sinking ship,’ remarked Charlie, and I thought that damned unfair, and stupidly told him so. His eyes filled up with tears. Hopper went over to the officer who had just come down from the davits and asked him what we should do. ‘Pray,’ was the reply.

  Now that all the boats had gone, the waiting began. We went inside to search for something that we might cling to in the water. This was Hopper’s idea. It was ten minutes to two by the clock on the Grand Staircase and we marvelled that time had crept so slowly, for it seemed we had lived a life-time in the space of an hour.

  The card players had remained stoically at their table in the smoke-room. Hopper asked one of them for a cigarette and was told there were hundreds in the bar and all free. He came back with the ornamental lifebuoy that had hung on the wall above the spirits shelf. He tried to put it o
n but it wouldn’t go further than his shoulders, which pinned his arms to his sides so that he couldn’t get it off again. In spite of everything, this made me laugh out loud, at which the card players had the cheek to tick me off for being rowdy.

  Then I remembered Rosenfelder telling me that they sold souvenirs of the voyage in the barber’s shop on C deck. He’d bought a shaving brush with the White Star flag enamelled on the handle. I’d asked him, thinking of Sissy’s baby, if they had anything suitable for small children, and he’d said he’d seen teddy bears and inflatable rings for sea-side excursions. I suggested to Charlie that he come with me but he turned pale at the idea of going so far below. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘I can’t help being a coward.’ I didn’t show it, but I lost patience with him. After all, most of us are cowards, but it’s simply not on to shout it from the roof-tops.

  It was eerie passing down through the ship. There was no one about, and still all the lights blazed. I didn’t use the elevator for fear there was a sudden stagger and I got trapped. The tilt was pronounced now and I walked along the corridors with my hands braced on either side of the walls. When I came to the barber’s shop the door was swinging inwards on its hinges. Riley sat in one of the swivel chairs, combing his hair in the mirror. He grinned when he saw me, and spun himself round and round. ‘Try it,’ he said. ‘It’s a good lark.’ I took the chair next to him and we both whirled. Truly, I felt very much at ease.

  ‘What are you after down here?’ he said. ‘Did you think you needed a shave?’

  ‘I was looking for something to hold on to . . . when we hit the water.’

  ‘Get away with you,’ he scoffed. ‘You’ll have her whole bloody innards to choose from once she starts to plunge.’ My eyes must have held a shadow of alarm, for he added, ‘She won’t go just yet, take it from me. Maybe half an hour, longer if we’re lucky.’

  ‘Had it anything to do with the fire?’ I asked. ‘The one in the bunker.’

  ‘Doubt it,’ he said. ‘We was just going too fast and not heeding the ice warnings.’

  ‘Is the Carpathia really on its way?’

  ‘So the Marconi fellow has it. But she won’t get to us till the morning.’

  ‘It is the morning.’

  ‘Proper morning,’ he said. ‘Brekky time.’ He stopped spinning and began to unscrew the stoppers of the bottles above the basin, sniffing the contents in turn. When the smell didn’t meet with his approval he emptied the liquid down the plug hole. An aroma of scented soap hung in the air. Reflected in the mirror a row of teddy bears sat stiff on the shelf behind me. They wore white sailor hats but the band about each crown bore the letters, backwards, RMS Olympic.

  ‘I suppose it’s best to jump,’ I said. ‘And from the stern.’

  ‘Wrong, bloody wrong. Best place is the roof of the officers’ house. Where the collapsible is. Her bows will go down and the sea will wash you off. Mind you, the first funnel will likely keep you company.’

  ‘There’s another boat?’

  ‘The officers is keeping it for themselves. Leastways, we weren’t told to get it down.’ He was watching me in the mirror, studying my build. ‘You might make it,’ he said. ‘You’d think the fat ones would do best, having more flesh on them, but mostly their tickers give up under the shock. Now me, I’m on the scrawny side, but that only means the cold will freeze my blood quicker.’ I reckoned he was trying to frighten me and stared him out. I asked, ‘What did I do to make you so angry . . . before?’

  ‘It’s water under the bridge now,’ he said.

  ‘All the same, I’d like to know.’

  ‘That bleeding half-crown you tossed me.’ I stared at him. I thought he meant that in tipping him I’d treated him as an inferior. ‘I’m sorry,’ I stammered. ‘I didn’t think.’

  ‘No, you bloody well didn’t. Still, it don’t matter now . . . you with your millions and me with me half-crown, we’re both in the same boat.’ And with that he took a silver coin out of his pocket and dropped it in the sink. Then he went out of the door. I sat there a moment, feeling sick. I think it was the smell of lavender, not his treatment of me that turned my stomach. I left the coin where it lay, in case he came back, but when I went out into the passage there was no sign of him.

  All the way up to A deck I argued with him in my head, protesting that I wasn’t stingy and that on his wages I wouldn’t have turned my nose up at two shillings and sixpence – but then, I thought of the money Charlie had said I’d thrown away at cards the night before and fairly burned with shame.

  Hopper and Charlie had gone from the smoke-room. So had the card players. Thomas Andrews was standing with his back to me at the fire, balancing up on his toes, positioning a picture in place above the mantelpiece. It was the Plymouth Harbour painting, the one I’d last seen hanging in the library. He stepped back to see if it hung straight, and I called out his name. He didn’t turn round. His life-preserver lay across the table. I went closer and said, ‘Will you not come up on deck, sir? There isn’t much time.’ Still with his back to me he fluttered his hand in the air, either waving me away or waving goodbye.

  I did as Riley had told me and once on the boat deck climbed the companionway up to the officers’ house which was forward of the first funnel. There were seamen on the roof, struggling to release the collapsible. I peered down and saw Guggenheim and his valet both dressed as though off to a swell party. They were listening to the orchestra which was playing rag-time to raise our spirits, Guggenheim tap-tapping his cane on the rail. Hopper stood not a yard from them, looking first one way then the other. I guessed he was trying to find me and shouted to him. By good luck he heard and sprinted towards the stairs. He told me Charlie was further along the deck. They had both gone aft to where a priest was giving conditional absolution to a demented congregation. When Charlie had fallen to his knees and started to blub out the most damn fool confessions, like how he’d tormented a cat when he was a child and how he’d stolen a dollar from his mother’s purse, he had to leave him. ‘Honest to God, Morgan, he’s turned yellow.’

  At that moment the orchestra changed tune and struck up a hymn, one I knew well because it was a favourite of my aunt’s and sometimes she used to sing it when she was in one of her brighter moods . . . E’en though it be a cross that raiseth me, Still all my song shall be, Nearer my God to Thee, Nearer to Thee. Hearing it, I knew I had to go in search of Charlie, for Lady Melchett’s sake if not my own, and would have gone on searching for him if Scurra hadn’t been waiting for me at the bottom of the steps. He said, ‘A man bears the weight of his own body without knowing it, but he soon feels the weight of any other object. There is nothing, absolutely nothing, that a man cannot forget – but not himself.’ Then, before walking away, he said those other things, about it being the drop, not the height, that was terrible, and I left Charlie to God and went back up to the officers’ house.

  And now, the moment was almost upon us. The stern began to lift from the water. Guggenheim and his valet played mountaineers, going hand over hand up the rail. The hymn turned ragged; ceased altogether. The musicians scrambled upwards, the spike of the cello scraping the deck. Clinging to the rung of the ladder I tried to climb to the roof but there was such a sideways slant that I waved like a flag on a pole. I thought I must make a leap for it and turned to look for Hopper. Something, some inner voice urged me to glance below and I saw Scurra again, one arm hooked through the rail to steady himself. I raised my hand in greeting – then the water, first slithering, then tumbling, gushed us apart.

  As the ship staggered and tipped, a great volume of water flowed in over the submerged bows and tossed me like a cork to the roof. Hopper was there too. My fingers touched some kind of bolt near the ventilation grille and I grabbed it tight. I filled my lungs with air and fixed my eyes on the blurred horizon, determined to hang on until I was sure I could float free rather than be swilled back and forth in a maelstrom. I wouldn’t waste my strength in swimming, not yet, for I knew the ship was now m
y enemy and if I wasn’t vigilant would drag me with her to the grave. I waited for the next slithering dip and when it came and the waves rushed in and swept me higher, I released my grip and let myself be carried away, over the tangle of ropes and wires and davits, clear of the rails and out into the darkness. I heard the angry roaring of the dying ship, the deafening cacophony as she stood on end and all her guts tore loose. I choked on soot and cringed beneath the sparks dancing like fire-flies as the forward funnel broke and smashed the sea in two. I thought I saw Hopper’s face but one eye was ripped away and he gobbled like a fish on the hook. I was sucked under, as I knew I would be, down, down, and still I waited, waited until the pull slackened – then I struck out with all my strength.

  I don’t know how long I swam under that lidded sea – time had stopped with my breath – and just as it seemed as if my lungs would burst the blackness paled and I kicked to the surface. I had thought I was entering paradise, for I was alive and about to breathe again, and then I heard the cries of souls in torment and believed myself in hell. Dear God! Those voices! Father . . . Father . . . For the love of Christ . . . Help me, for pity’s sake! . . . Where is my son. Some called for their mothers, some on the Lord, some to die quickly, a few to be saved. The lamentations rang through the frosty air and touched the stars; my own mouth opened in a silent howl of grief. The cries went on and on, trembling, lingering – and God forgive me, but I wanted them to end. In all that ghastly night it was the din of the dying that chilled the most. Presently, the voices grew fainter, ceased – yet still I heard them, as though the drowned called to one another in a ghostly place where none could follow. Then silence fell, and that was the worst sound of all. There was no trace of the Titanic. All that remained was a grey veil of vapour drifting above the water.