The Master's Tale--A Novel of the Titanic

by Ann Victoria Roberts

  As the bow dipped even more, the slope on deck was increasing, together with a list to starboard. The musicians were playing ragtime, which cheered a body of 3rd Class folk coming up from steerage. To my amazement, some of the girls were spinning and laughing as they formed a group near the band. With all the lights and music and people milling about, I dare say it seemed like a fairground. Even the deck was a cake-walk.

  Our lights made viewing the horizon difficult, but it showed they were keeping things going below. My mind shied from thinking what it was like in the engine room. No bloody fairground, that was for sure. For us up top, Joe Bell and his team were manning the pumps and fending off darkness.

  ‘Keep up, keep up,’ I muttered under my breath, remembering Lizzie Fennell, the way we’d saved each other in the face of overwhelming odds. Praying we might do it again, even for an extra hour. But from the bridge the situation was obvious. The prow was on the waterline. Not everyone was going to get off before she went down. The heroes below knew that, but they were still giving us power for the winches and distress calls.

  Past the Mess and through the alleyways, I crossed from side to side, giving a word here, a word there, all the time seeking my daughter’s face. Aft, some kind of altercation was going on between Wilde and a bunch of foreign youths from steerage. He was trying to keep them in the well-deck, while they were jostling the women and children. I roared at them like a Bo’sun – they might not have got the words but they understood the meaning. With that they backed down.

  ‘Will you give permission for the firearms, sir?’

  ‘If you think they’re necessary, Mr Wilde, you have it.’

  ‘No sir, that’s the point,’ he said tersely. ‘I wasn’t in Belfast – I haven’t got the keys.’

  Damn it! Well, I had my master key. All I had to do was find the right locker where the guns were stowed and hand them out.

  Just in time. As I got back to Wilde, the youths came bursting up the steps, jabbering and pushing to get to the top. He fired a shot over their heads. With that they fell back, letting the women come up to the boats.

  But the whole business was taking too long. After the list to starboard, she developed a list to port, which became more pronounced as water flowed from one side of the ship to the other. At once the difficulties of loading and lowering increased. To starboard, gravity was inclining the boats to the ship’s side, whereas to port they had difficulty holding the boats in so people could board.

  I heard another gunshot. Lowe, alongside Boat 14 on the port side, fired to prevent some men – probably the same young fools as before – rushing his boat. Moments later I saw a crowd of firemen, black from the engine room, diving into another boat. Another roar ordered them out, but we needed women and children to board at once. Where were they? Thirteen hundred fare-paying passengers, and there can’t have been more than a few score left on the Boat Deck. Then I saw a mass of people aft. Looked like a ruddy prayer meeting.

  ‘Come on,’ I shouted, moving as best I could in that direction, ‘God helps those who help themselves!’ I saw a young couple in the light, hovering by the 2nd Class steps as though unsure of their right to be up here. I grasped the man’s arm. ‘Come along, sir – they need men who can row!’ And then as he turned eagerly, I recognized him – and his girl. It was the pair I’d spoken to the other day. ‘Glad to see you’ve got your lifejackets,’ I said, ushering them to the nearest boat on the starboard side. ‘Here,’ I said to the Bo’sun, ‘two more for you. See they get aboard.’

  Buoyed by the moment, I went down to see how many more were waiting on A Deck. An unbelievable crowd on both sides. I moved downhill through stewards helping ladies into lifejackets, scanning every face. For some unaccountable reason, they still hadn’t loaded Boat 4, yet I’d seen it being lowered from the Boat Deck ages ago – where the hell was Lightoller? What was he doing? I spotted Astor. He seemed to be pleading with someone – it was Lightoller, who, like some bloody knight in armour, was saying no, women and children only. But what about men to handle the boats?

  I shook my head. ‘Oh, for God’s sake…’ On the other side, Murdoch had allowed men in to handle the falls. Most had been firemen, brawny enough, if not the expert seamen needed in an open boat. If Astor had only gone across earlier, he might have got in with his young wife. The virtues – and drawbacks – of good breeding. Don’t push, don’t shove, wait your turn like a gentleman…

  I dared not intervene. If I overruled my 2nd Officer now, there would be a riot. All the men so anxious for their wives would rush the boat and…

  He caught my eye as I was inwardly cursing him.

  ‘I’m sorry, sir, it took an age to get the windows down!’

  Bruce’s bloody windows – that bloody promenade! I swallowed my anger. ‘Hurry along there, Mr Lightoller – get this boat loaded and away.’

  Where was Lucinda? Had she gone already? I gazed around before cutting through the 1st Class entrance. Climbing uphill to starboard, I glanced at my watch. Almost two hours since we foundered. How much longer? The thought was barely formed when I saw one of the 2nd Engineers staggering towards me. His blackened, bloated face was unrecognisable; his voice a hoarse whisper.

  ‘Boiler Room 3’s flooded, sir. We got out just in time.’

  ‘Right.’ Boiler Room 3, amidships. Tipping point. She’d start to go faster now. Much faster.

  I thanked him before slithering and scrambling my way back to the Marconi room. Captain Rostron aboard Carpathia was close, but not close enough. Even at full speed, it would be another hour or more before he could reach us. While Phillips, the senior man, promptly tapped out another message regarding our present condition, creaks and squeals, underscored by strange, unearthly groans, were making themselves heard from below. My ship was crying out in protest.

  ‘Keep up, keep up…’ Muttering my constant prayer, I clutched the rail and – God forgive me – willed my very soul into the steel heart of the ship. Anything to give us that extra hour.

  Turning, I saw Boxhall preparing another rocket. ‘Look lad, leave that. They’re not going to answer now. Go on – get yourself to the next boat. You’re a seaman – they need you.’

  ‘Sir, I’d rather…’

  ‘Don’t argue, Mr Boxhall.’ Telling him to aim for the lights we’d seen, I sent him on his way.

  ~~~

  Back down to A Deck. Port side this time. I passed Colonel Gracie, helping ladies into one of the boats, and gave him an encouraging word; then saw O’Loughlin’s tall figure in the light from the 1st Class entrance. He was with one of the stewards, handing out lifejackets. I spotted the Enderby sisters, and suddenly to my relief and alarm there was Lucinda, her face so pinched and white I could tell she was terrified. The look in her eyes as she turned and saw me was like a knife to the heart. Aware that time was running out, I pushed my way through to her side.

  Inside her fur-collared coat she was trembling badly. I wanted to enfold her in my arms and usher her to the front of the queue. I wanted to place her in that boat and personally oversee its lowering away. Under cover of the crowd, I found her hand and squeezed it.

  ‘I’m glad to see you’ve got your lifejackets on, ladies. This boat should get away soon.’ So little time…

  ‘I saw you pass by earlier,’ Lucinda whispered. ‘I wanted to follow but the Doctor said we should stay here.’

  ‘Quite right.’ I hardly dared meet her gaze.

  ‘I thought I wouldn’t see you again,’ she admitted with a catch in her voice. ‘And I wanted to tell you how sorry I am…’

  ‘Why? What is it?’

  ‘I was afraid to say, before… I did see something at the séance. A woman – standing behind Mr Stead.’ With a fearful glance, Lucinda grasped my arm. ‘It must have been Dorothea, trying to warn us…’

  Even as a shudder ran through me, I shook my head, thrusting the image aside. This was no time for ghosts. ‘A parlour trick, Lucinda – that’s all. He put the suggestion in your
mind.’

  ‘Could he do that?’

  ‘Certain. It’s all trickery.’ I took a deep breath. ‘Don’t dwell on it, my dear – it will only torment you.’ We moved forward in awkward steps. I held her close, trying to comfort her with a confidence I did not feel. ‘There are lights out there on the horizon – a ship, not far, you’ll soon reach it. You’ll soon be safe.’

  ‘Will you come with us?’ She gazed up at me with such appeal I had to look away.

  ‘No, my dear, I must stay awhile yet. But when you get home – and you will, I know you will – remember this time we’ve had together. Write to me, won’t you?’

  Lucinda nodded. ‘You’ll come to New Haven?’

  ‘Of course I will.’

  O’Loughlin wormed his way through to shelter us from curious eyes. A little cough reminded me that time was passing. ‘I’ll see her safe into the boat, sir.’

  ‘Thank you, Billy.’

  Gazing long and deep at this daughter of mine, I knew Dorothea lived on in her; that whatever happened, something of myself would continue beyond this moment. Bending closer, I hugged her to me. She felt like life itself. ‘I will always love you,’ I vowed, and knew those words were for Mel and Ellie and Dorothea too.

  She reached up and quickly kissed me, her eyes full of life and fire behind the tears. ‘Don’t forget – New Haven!’ She was like her mother then. ‘I haven’t waited this long, to lose you now!’

  ‘No fear of that,’ I said, gently pushing her towards Billy. I managed a smile. ‘I’ll be there – it’s a promise. God bless you, dear girl.’ I had to turn away before the pain in my chest betrayed me.

  The man overseeing Boat 4 was one of the quartermasters – the one who’d welcomed me aboard. ‘Steer for the lights, Perkis,’ I called when I could find my voice. ‘Be sure you get into this boat and steer for those lights.’

  ‘Right you are, sir!’

  Pushing through the crowd with unseeing eyes, somehow I reached the boat deck. I leaned over the rail to be certain Lucinda did get away. The drop, thank God, was a quarter of what it would have been two hours ago, but the gap meant difficulty for the women in their long skirts. A couple of seamen were in the boat, hauling them in. I saw Mrs Thayer, Eleanor Widener – and Madeleine Astor, weeping and distraught – hanging on to each other with grim anxiety as others scrambled over them for seats. I counted some 40 women and children, amongst them the young boy I’d imagined would go to sea one day.

  With a sudden lurch, the boat tipped and righted and began its drop. A cry went up. Lucinda appeared in a halo of light – looking up, finding me, so intense in that moment of recognition my heart thudded with love and fear.

  I heard a man shout as the boat reached the water – then Perkis answered and shinned down the falls. Thankfulness surged through me – a good man, Perkis. Capable. He’d see them right.

  I stared, my eyes peeling away the darkness until the lifeboat with its precious cargo disappeared from sight. It was the last one to leave: apart from the two canvas boats, the others were all away. If they stayed together, aimed for those lights… Please God, keep them safe!

  With binoculars I raked the night, seeing only stars, dimmed by our close, bright lamps. Searching for the lights of a ship… that was no longer there.

  Hope deserted me then. I cursed the men aboard her.

  ~~~

  The sea, black and gleaming, was alarmingly close. The first boats had lowered away part loaded. If those boats hung around, people could still be saved. Hauling my way along the Boat Deck I made my way aft, down through the prayer meeting on the well deck and – with difficulty – to the engine room access. The door was open, the steps at a crazy angle. Steam was pouring out like fog. I shouted down and one of the engineers emerged, black and bedraggled, like a spent devil from hell itself. ‘Find the Chief. Give him my respects and tell him it’s time to stop, get the men out…’

  ‘Right you are, sir. Respects. Time to stop.’ He disappeared.

  I passed dozens of steerage passengers, huddling in corners, the women clutching bundles and precious items. Some had children clinging to their skirts. ‘Come on!’ I cried, urging them along with me. ‘Get up on deck while you still have a chance!’

  But they cringed away, not understanding.

  Chest aching, I made it back to the wireless cabin, but no miracle had intervened. I told the two boys they’d done enough, it was time to quit. The port side was down at an angle. Water was swirling below the bridge. Not long now.

  ~~~

  O’Loughlin staggered as he reached me. ‘You sly old fox,’ he said, adding, ‘sir,’ as an afterthought. I caught the smell of brandy on his breath. ‘Who was that lovely young thing with the pretty blue eyes?’

  ‘My daughter,’ I said without preamble. ‘I didn’t know about her until…’ My voice suddenly grated, throat as dry as the Sahara. I had to think. ‘Until yesterday.’ It seemed an age ago.

  ‘Jesus, Mary and Joseph,’ he whispered, stepping back. The deck was at such an angle he almost fell. ‘By all the holy saints. You’re kidding me?’

  ‘Now, Billy – would I joke about a thing like that? At a time like this?’

  ‘No, sir, ye would not.’ I knew he was drunk – he was sounding very Irish.

  One-handed, I patted my pockets, realized they were empty. ‘For heaven’s sake, Billy – give me that flask you’ve got hidden away. And find me a smoke. I’m desperate. My office…’

  Scanning the darkness, it struck me that we had seen nothing since watching that plume of frozen mist recede into darkness. Despite the arctic chill there was no ice to be seen. I looked around, trying to see Murdoch, wanting to tell him it was just a stray growler, when an ominous creak from below sent ripples of alarm through me.

  I took a hefty swig from the hip-flask. Brandy. It cleared my throat and coursed through my veins. Just then I saw Stead inching down past the wireless cabin, his eyes focused on me. He waved a piece of paper in my direction.

  ‘I have a message!’

  At once, hope leapt. Could it be? Was it possible that this time, against all the odds, Stead had made contact with a ship close by? I was ready to embrace him with gratitude.

  ‘I was wrong about the fog,’ he gasped, sliding towards me. ‘Completely wrong. I wasn’t wrong about the ice though, was I?’

  I shook my head as hope plunged beneath the waves. I wanted to curse him, yet the habit of civility remained. ‘No,’ I said wearily, turning away, ‘you weren’t wrong about the ice.’

  He caught my arm. ‘And I was right about the lifeboats too!’ His prophet’s eyes bored into mine. ‘You see it now?’

  ‘Believe me, Mr Stead, the irony is not lost. You know,’ I confided, as though we had all the time in the world for this little chat, ‘I used to tell my wife boats were not much good except in ideal conditions…’ I heard myself laugh – it sounded strange. I wanted to weep with despair, with the knowledge that I couldn’t change a thing. This was how it was. The antipathy between us mattered not; all else was vanity. Stead was a fraud and I was a tired old man.

  ‘And here we are,’ I said expansively, the irony bitter on my tongue. ‘Ideal conditions…’

  A clear night, no fog. Everything perfectly still. No waves, no swell, no risk to those being lowered to the water. But even with boats aplenty, time would have been a problem – we still hadn’t got the last ones away, and water was lapping at the bridge front.

  We didn’t practice often enough…

  ‘If only you’d listened – changed course – I tried to warn you…’ Stead pressed the paper into my hand. The message, whatever it was, was badly written. Clinging to the wheelhouse door-jamb, I didn’t attempt to read it. As Billy reappeared, handing me my small cigars and a box of matches, I pushed them, with the paper, into my pocket.

  ‘I’m not afraid of dying,’ Stead declared, shrugging off Billy’s attempt to persuade him towards the canvas boats. ‘You know why? Because I know there is
another world. And thanks to you, Captain Smith, that’s exactly where we’re going.’

  That was too much. I lost control. ‘Are you so sure,’ I asked with bitter force, ‘you didn’t draw this situation down on us? You and your blasted table-rapping!’

  My anger stayed him. Suddenly, he seemed sad and old, all his bombast gone. ‘No, Captain,’ he said quietly. ‘I promise you, all I did was listen. I’ve known for years that I was going to lose my life at sea – why do you think I campaigned so hard for more lifeboats?’

  Billy pulled him away. ‘Come on, sir, let’s find us both a drink…’ The last I saw of them they were negotiating the steps – now almost level – to A Deck.

  With an effort I calmed myself. The foredeck lights were underwater and the forward mast looked more like a bowsprit. With just a few feet to go I knew she was flooding rapidly below decks. I glanced up, seeing the funnels looming horribly over those working to free the canvas boats. They’d go next.

  Wilde and Murdoch were on the roof of the officers’ quarters, with Clinch Smith and Colonel Gracie. They were struggling to free one boat, while Lightoller and Moody and several sailors were forming a ring round the other. Behind me, a tense crowd waited. Two chubby young children – not much more than babies – were screaming. A man passed them across the ring to a stewardess. Another woman picked up the younger one, its imploring hands like starfish reaching back, its cry one long wail of distress.

  That finished me. I took shelter in the wheelhouse, propped myself against the wheel, and swallowed a long slug of brandy to stop the tears.

  Out there, amidst the shouts of men, the shrill cries of women and children, music was still playing, but something gentler now.

  Times without number I had crossed this patch of ocean, on occasion almost sick with anxiety, feeling my way through the fog. Sometimes, battered by storms and gales, I’d wondered if we would make it. And the snow. My God, the blizzards we’d encountered off this eastern seaboard. Unable to see a man on deck, never mind another ship on a collision course.