Voyage on the Great Titanic

by Ellen Emerson White

  “This is utterly ridiculous,” Mrs. Carstairs sniffed, as we started up the Grand Staircase, accompanied by a stream of passengers in various states of dress. “We should never have been roused from our beds like this.”

  “Has this ever happened to you before?” I asked. “You and Mr. Carstairs have taken so many trips.”

  “In the middle of the night?” she said. “Certainly not! I find it outrageous, frankly.”

  The steps seemed somehow crooked, and I could not figure out why. Was something on the ship broken? How could any of this possibly be routine? My heart began to pound, and I was finding it a little difficult to swallow.

  On the whole, the other passengers seemed to think this was either a jolly game, or an irritating inconvenience. There was no running or pushing, or even any raised voices. Mostly, people were just joking or grumbling. I relaxed a little, deciding that there must be no good reason to be afraid.

  When we stepped outside, the sudden exposure to the icy air made me suck in a short breath. Then again, how could anyone think that the ship would hold a routine drill when it was this cold? Such an event would be sheer madness. There must be something terribly wrong here.

  “I wonder how soon they will let us go back downstairs,” Mrs. Carstairs groused.

  “This is absurd. The White Star Line will certainly be hearing from me,” someone else was saying behind us.

  The ship’s officers and seamen were uncovering the lifeboats and hurling the canvases aside. The passengers were standing in small groups, watching with perfunctory interest and chatting among themselves. A number of people had merely tossed coats on over their nightclothes and wore slippers on their feet. Since they all seemed to expect to go back inside momentarily, I assumed that my nerves must only be a result of my inexperience.

  But if that was so, why did the deck seem to tilt forward? Surely, it ought not to do that. Then again, the Titanic was the finest and safest ship ever built, so there must be a reasonable explanation.

  The officers were calling for people to board the lifeboats, but almost no one volunteered. The Titanic was so warm and safe, with its bright lights, and the dark ocean looked lonely and dangerous. For the time being, it seemed the better part of wisdom to stay aboard.

  I saw Captain Smith pass by, with ship designer Andrews, and they were both so carefully expressionless that once again, I felt a stirring of fear. If there was no problem, they would have been making reassuring remarks, and their faces would lack that tightness. Mrs. Carstairs interpreted their calm manner to suggest that everything was perfectly fine, and most of the people around us agreed with her.

  I wished that Robert would come out here soon. It was so dark, and crowded, that I was going to have to keep out a very sharp eye for him. There did not seem to be any cabin stewards out here yet, so they must still have had things to do below decks.

  In the meantime, the officers at the lifeboats were trying very hard to convince people to get aboard. A brave few did so, which encouraged others to follow along. But the first boat appeared to be barely half full. I was sure that there were plenty of boats, so this did not concern me. We would all have our chance.

  A tremendous amount of steam was bursting noisily out of the funnels above us, and I felt a surge of hope, even though it made my ears hurt. Maybe they were getting ready to start the engines again!

  Someone was saying that a great crush of ice had fallen upon the aft decks, and that some of the third-class passengers had come up to play an impromptu game of football with the chunks. A few first-class passengers wandered down in that direction to watch, and maybe collect some ice for themselves.

  Mrs. Carstairs, who was among the impractically dressed group, shivered next to me. “I cannot be bothered with this tomfoolery,” she said. “I am going inside to get warm.”

  Faint music was coming from the First-Class Lounge, where the band must have been playing. Tentatively, I started to follow her.

  “No, you stay out here, M. J.,” she said, “so you can come and report on the progress.”

  So I stayed outdoors. I was on the port side, and the officers were repeatedly requesting that women and children only step forward. The first boat on our side was slowly filling up, and the second was being lowered to the next deck, so it would be easier to board. A group of women and children were ushered downstairs to meet it. No sooner had they gone than they returned, because the Promenade windows had blocked their way. So the boat behind it began to be loaded, instead.

  The passengers were still very quiet, waiting cooperatively to be told where to go, and what to do. The only shouts came from the men manning the lifeboats, who yelled things like, “Lower away!” and, “We need an able-bodied seaman over here!” and the ever-present, “Women and children first!”

  The forward tilt of the deck was, to my eyes, growing more and more pronounced. I could think of no explanation, unless—but we couldn’t actually be sinking, could we? Suddenly, there was a blinding white light and a strange whistling sound, followed by the boom of an explosion up in the sky. The noise made everyone duck, and now I saw fear in formerly confident faces. My heart was pounding harder than ever, and my stomach began to ache.

  “Distress rockets,” someone murmured.

  Distress rockets?! Impossible as it seemed, that could only mean one thing.

  Immediately, I went inside to tell Mrs. Carstairs, and try to convince her to come back out. I was having little success, but then Mr. Hollings came over and echoed my concerns, and she peevishly returned to the Boat Deck. I took hold of Florence’s leash and went after them.

  “Is there really a problem here?” she asked Mr. Hollings.

  He glanced around, and then nodded slowly, as though making sure no one else was listening. “The word came down from Mr. Ismay himself, I heard. You must find yourself a seat, at once.” Ismay was the Managing Director of the White Star Line, who I had been told was traveling on this voyage. He would be one of the people most likely to know the true extent of the damage.

  Now Mrs. Carstairs’s eyes widened, and she allowed Mr. Hollings to guide her over to Boat 8. The boat was already partially occupied, and women were hesitantly stepping inside. An elderly woman allowed an officer and a strapping sailor to help her aboard with her maid. Then, just as suddenly, she got back out and went to stand next to an elderly gentleman still on the deck, saying something to the effect of, “Where you go, I go.” Her husband, and the men nearby, tried to dissuade her, but she could not be convinced to leave him behind. So the men turned their attention to her husband, suggesting that he get in the lifeboat as well. He refused them with quiet good humour, and the next thing I saw was the elderly couple going off to sit down in deck chairs. They were holding hands tightly, and seemed unaware of anything in the world beyond each other.

  We were sinking. We were actually sinking. My legs felt weak, and I had to swallow hard to keep my expression as calm and brave as everyone else’s seemed to be.

  The officers were still trying to fill Boat 8, and Mr. Hollings implored Mrs. Carstairs to do as they were advising and climb in.

  “I—I don’t know,” she wavered. “It seems so very dark out there. Perhaps I should —”

  Was there really time to squander quibbling right now? After all, the word had come from the Managing Director himself, hadn’t it? “Just get in the boat, Mrs. Carstairs,” I snapped. She stared at me, looking confused. “Mrs. Carstairs,” I said again, through clenched teeth. “Get in the —”

  Before I could finish, she nodded shortly and moved toward the boat with something of an offended flounce.

  “Here you go, ma’am,” one of the officers kept saying patiently, as he tried to coax people into the lifeboat. “Step aboard, ma’am. Women and children only, sir.”

  Husbands and teenage sons were escorting their wives and sisters forward, and then calmly promising to join them later on. Some of the women meekly obeyed; others refused to leave at all. I saw a couple of women li
terally being dragged into lifeboats, sobbing, while their husbands stayed behind, smiling wanly.

  And yet, there was still no real sense of panic. I could not tell whether this was because so many did not want to believe that there was any genuine danger, or if everyone was just extraordinarily courageous. I, for one, was growing increasingly frightened.

  Halfway into the lifeboat, Mrs. Carstairs stopped short.

  “Wait! I’ll not go another step without her!” she cried out.

  Mr. Hollings and the nearest officer looked at me expectantly. Without a word, I held out Florence’s leash, and Mrs. Carstairs scooped her up and clutched her against her life belt.

  “Wait until the other first-class ladies board, dear,” she said to me over her shoulder. “Then come along, and we will meet up later.”

  I had been on the verge of stepping in after her, and this caught me off guard. Should I let the others go first? Considering my station, maybe it would be better to wait my turn. Maybe it was only right. Besides, I had not seen Robert up here yet. I certainly did not want to leave until I was sure that he was safe, too.

  “Come on!” the officer said to me, his temper starting to fray. “There’s no time to waste!”

  I shook my head and stepped away, doing my best to melt into the crowd. I think Mr. Hollings tried to follow me, but it was easy to elude him with the confusion of people milling about, and the deafening explosions of the distress rockets still being fired into the air.

  There were plenty of other boats; I would wait my turn.

  Later

  Writing about all of this is very difficult. There really are no words to describe what those hours were like. I cannot bear to talk, or eat, or — most of all — think. And yet, what can I do but think?

  At the time, I remember feeling dazed, but also curiously alert. The boats were being loaded, and what had previously been casual partings, with promises to meet up soon, were now wrenching, tearful farewells. Most of the people on the deck seemed to be first-class passengers, and I wondered where everyone else was. Probably there were more lifeboats back on the poop deck, or some other convenient place. There seemed to be a limited number up here, and so many people still needed to be taken to safety. I knew almost nothing about ship procedures, but was sure that they would have planned for a situation like this as a matter of course.

  That did make me wonder why it was necessary for women and children to go first. If there was room for everyone, the officers should just load the boats without any form of selection. There must be something going on that we had not yet been told.

  A number of passengers and crew members were watching the lights of what seemed to be a nearby steamer. A ship must be coming to rescue us! The distress rockets worked! That was why the officers were allowing the lifeboats to be lowered away with empty seats. They knew that we would all soon be saved. But, as the moments passed, the lights did not seem to be moving. If anything, they appeared farther away. Now some people were saying that the lights were only stars, or maybe the northern lights, and that there was no ship out there at all. Because if there was a ship nearby, how could it not respond to the distress rockets?

  The band had come out onto the deck, and was playing a series of light, spirited tunes. By now I was so afraid that my mind was jumbled, and I could not concentrate enough to listen. The feeling of collective fear on the deck was starting to spread, and I felt as though I had to escape from it. I would go find Robert, and wait with him. I walked slowly toward the aft staircase against the steadily increasing flow of nervously chattering people coming outside.

  There were still people mingling in the foyer and other common rooms, but most of the alleyways were deserted. I passed a man wearing what might have been a cook’s uniform, and reached out a hand to stop him.

  “Do you know where I would find the cabin stewards?” I asked.

  He glared at me. “The cabins are locked, miss. Go back up to the Boat Deck!” Then, without waiting to see what I was going to do, he continued past me.

  I noticed how steep the angle of the floor was, and quickened my pace. The ship was sinking, and if I tarried down here much longer, I might well sink right along with it. I would just check our row of staterooms, and then I would head back out. Maybe Robert and the others were on the Promenade, or helping out on the poop deck—if only the ship were not so incredibly big; it was impossible to find anyone.

  I checked every alleyway I could find on C Deck, but never saw a soul. Was I the last person still below-decks? Would all the lifeboats go without me? Fighting a sudden rush of panic, I was turning to hurry back to the aft staircase when I saw someone in a white uniform jacket just up ahead of me. Robert! He was sitting down on the carpet, his back against the wall, staring bleakly at nothing. A life belt was lying next to him, but he made no move to put it on.

  “Thank goodness I found you!” I said. “Where have you been?”

  He stared at me, looking shocked. “Margaret, I thought you’d left! What are you doing here?”

  “Looking for you,” I said. “Come quickly, it’s not safe to be down here.”

  He looked at me, and his young, sweet face seemed positively ancient. “Please go back upstairs right away, Margaret. Your place is on the Boat Deck.”

  My place. My place because I was female, or because I was, by a mere technicality, first class? Or was my place waiting to make sure others boarded before I did? Or, tonight, should “place” have been the most irrelevant thing in the world? Somehow, things I accepted my entire life no longer made any sense to me.

  “Robert —” I began.

  “Go on with you, now, and don’t worry about me,” he said, looking straight ahead. “There isn’t a moment to lose.”

  Nothing—not even the great welling fear inside of me — would have allowed me to walk away and leave him there alone. I carefully sat down next to him, my balance unsteady on the sloping floor.

  “Where are the other stewards?” I asked tentatively.

  He shrugged, staring straight ahead. “Gone, I guess. Maybe having a bit of a nip for courage.”

  “Gone to the other boats?” I asked.

  Now, he looked at me with those ancient eyes. “What other boats?”

  “Well, there are not nearly enough for everyone on the Boat Deck,” I answered. “So I assumed that—”

  “There are no other boats,” he said.

  I blinked, trying to figure out what that meant. “How can that — there are still so many people aboard. How will they get off safely?” But then I knew the answer before he even said anything: They would not get off safely. I would probably not get off safely. The enormity of this was hard to take in, and I had to close my eyes.

  It was very quiet. Sometimes I could hear running footsteps, or the unexplained creak of metal, but there was no rushing of water. We must still have been a few decks above the worst of it.

  Robert let out his breath. “You know, you never told me how old you are, Margaret.”

  “I will be fourteen in October,” I said. Except that now I was unlikely to see October.

  “For me, it would have been seventeen, in August,” Robert said.

  Would have been? God help us.

  Then Robert held his hand out. “Please allow me to take you back upstairs now.”

  I let him help me to my feet. “I insist that you put on your life belt, first, sir.”

  Robert smiled, although his lips were trembling. He fumbled for the life belt, and fastened it around his waist. I reached over to tug on the strap and make sure it was tight enough — which made his smile widen. “Now, come on,” he said, “while there’s still time.”

  I knew that it might already be too late, but he was right — we had to try. The staircase was so crooked at this point that we both kept stumbling, but finally we made it up to the deck.

  “I’ll see you off here,” he said. “Are you sure you know where to go?”

  I stopped to look at him, stunned. “What
do you mean, ‘see you off’? You need to come with me!”

  Instead of answering he reached into his pocket and handed me a White Star envelope, with an address written clearly across the front. “Could you post this to me mum? In case I don’t get a chance?”

  I just stared at him in horror.

  “Please don’t argue, Margaret,” he said. “Go find a boat, quick as you can. I could never rest, knowing otherwise.”

  I stood there like a right fool, not sure what to say or do.

  “Please, Margaret,” he said. “I do not want to be worrying about you.”

  I remembered another dark night when my brother had said, “Please, Margaret,” in that same desperate way. “What about you?” I asked, hearing my voice shake.

  “I have to go find my mates, so we can all give it a go together,” he said. “On a night like this, the crew stays together.”

  The deck had tilted so badly now that it was hard to keep our balance, and I hung on to his arm.

  “Please, Margaret,” Robert said again, his eyes staring intensely into mine. “I do not want to beg you.”

  Although it sickened me somewhere deep inside, I nodded—and saw his face relax.

  “Good,” he said. “Now my mind will be easy.” He put his hand out and touched my face for a moment. “Would you mind doing me one small favor?”

  “Anything,” I said quickly, hoping he would ask me to stay here with him.

  He grinned at me. “I should like to remember I kissed a pretty girl tonight.”

  I nodded shyly, and he gave me a small peck on the lips. This was all new for me, and I was not sure if I was supposed to respond in kind.

  “Have you ever kissed a lad before?” he asked gently.

  I shook my head, abashed. “No. I am afraid that was not very satisfactory.”

  He brushed a small piece of hair away from my face. “So, we’ll give it another go, eh?”

  This time, our kiss was warm and tender.

  Robert hugged me very tightly, and then stepped back, looking pleased. “You’re a natural, Margaret,” he said. “I’d better find my mates now. Promise me you’ll go straight to the boats.”