by Simon Edge
Hopkins rubbed his eyes. The relief it gave was treacherous, because once you started rubbing you had to carry on and on, but there were times when the temptation was irresistible.
Cardinal Manning himself had preached the sermon. Life and death were the same to them, he had said of the blessed deceased: when a means of escape was at hand, they allowed others to take their places. Amid the agony, the despair, the piercing cries of their fellow passengers, a divine calm pacified the souls of these holy victims. Hopkins frowned. Hadn’t the eyewitnesses told of terrible cries from the deceased themselves?
Laying the paper aside, he leafed through the pile of cuttings his mother had sent. Straining to make them out in the hopeless gaslight, he unfolded and refolded each one. Yes, here it was, he knew he had seen it! According to the survivors, the tallest figure had called: “O, my God, make it quick! Make it quick!”
The gas flickered.
The report said the voice was so loud it could be heard clearly above the storm. Hopkins closed his eyes and imagined looking down on the ship. In his mind’s eye, the cry curled upwards around the mast and into the night-time clouds, like a twisting plume of smoke. It was no longer a cry so much as a roar, the roar of a great creature … a wonderful, powerful animal …
Like a lioness breasting the babble.
Yes, that was rather good, because babble naturally gave him rabble, which neatly dealt with the masses in the rigging too. And that was the key, yes, of course it was. These creatures were of the weaker sex but they were strong in spirit – and where did that strength come from but their faith, their absolutely certainty? That was what enabled them to rise above the most intolerable physical hardship. Oh, this was working now… They were yearning for death not because it was a lesser evil than their earthly torment, but because they knew that what lay beyond death was better than anything the earth could provide, and so the roar must be born of … joy? … excitement?
Ha!
For once he barely noticed the cold as he changed into his nightclothes. Kneeling, he offered his thanks for the divine guidance that had at last given him eyes to see.
North Sea, 1875
It was now Tuesday, only the third day since they had left Bremen and less than twenty-four hours since they had struck the sandbank, but it already seemed an eternity since this nightmare had begun. They slept through the start of the cold night, but Henrica was roused while it was still pitch dark by a commotion in the lobby outside. She heard Marta rapping on one of the other doors and calling an urgent instruction. This was repeated twice more before the knock sounded on their own door, which opened before she or Aurea could reply.
“Ladies, please hurry. The captain has asked all passengers to come on deck without delay.”
Henrica sat up in the flimsy covers that she had wrapped over her bulky clothes and life-belt. “What time is it? Has help arrived?”
“It’s two in the morning.”
It was too dark to see the girl’s face, but there was nothing reassuring in her voice.
“Come to the aft saloon as quickly as you can and you’ll get further instructions. And don’t forget your life-belts.”
“We’re already wearing…”
The door closed as abruptly as it had opened.
“Henrica?” came a terrified whisper from the upper bunk.
“It’s all right, my dear. Try to be strong.”
Shivering, Henrica got out of the bunk and opened the door a crack. The lamp in the lobby was burning, and Barbara’s face appeared in her own doorway. Her face was swollen and her eyes shrunken small.
“What’s happening?”
“Maybe rescue,” said Henrica, wishing she could believe it.
A third door opened and Frau Pitzhold emerged, wrapped in a fur-trimmed coat which was so bulky she must be wearing it over her life-belt.
“Come along, sisters. It sounded urgent.” It was the first time she had spoken to Henrica directly. Fräulein Forster emerged from the cabin too and scuttled after the older woman.
“What should we do?” said Barbara, struggling to attach her band.
“We must do as she says.”
The door opened wider, and Brigitta’s pale face appeared behind Barbara’s in the lamplight. “I can’t go on deck, Henrica, I just can’t.”
“Our only hope is to pray, and I prefer to do that here,” said Barbara.
“Who says there’s no hope?”
“If help had arrived the girl would have said so.”
“This is senseless. We must all do as the captain says and go to the back of the ship.”
Henrica had known her authority might be challenged at some point on the journey, but she had not imagined it would be so soon, and in such circumstances. She must try to assert herself without undermining what little morale they had left.
Fortunately, Aurea was in no mood to stay where they were. Henrica persuaded a trembling Norberta to join them, and the other two were eventually induced to finish dressing and follow Marta’s bidding. Pinning veils seemed to take an age, and Brigitta drew blood from Barbara’s scalp in her attempt at haste. But at last they were ready.
Emerging into the listing saloon, Henrica saw that it now pitched more obviously from front to back than from side to side, so that they had to climb uphill as they joined the frightened passengers filing towards the stern. The burners were working in the aft saloon, so it was warmer here, but the room itself was a wretched sight. Huddles of steerage passengers, easily recognisable because they had no life-belts, camped on the floor and bedraggled the finery, but nobody seemed conscious of the trespass any longer. The refugees were too consumed by the danger to be awed, and the dowagers whose territory they were invading looked long past caring. There were men here, as well as women and children, which must mean the pumping and shedding of cargo had been abandoned. As a lost cause, or because salvation was imminent? There was no sign of relief on any faces, only fear and exhaustion. A baby was crying, and many women were sobbing too.
Henrica spotted a dazed but familiar face.
“Herr Lundgren, what’s going on? Nobody has told us.”
The Swede seemed at pains to avoid her eyes.
“The waves have done a lot of damage. Now the tide is coming in, the bow is sticking to the bottom and only the stern is rising. Once enough water gets in, that may sink too. Our survival depends entirely on how high the tide comes.”
Henrica clutched her rosary tighter and checked to see if the rest of her group had heard, but they were too far away. Aurea was helping a steerage mother calm her children, and the other three stood in a tight group below a crystal wall-light, its opulence ridiculous now.
“That it could happen again. Again! Why, sister?” The Swede looked at her directly now, and his eyes were red.
He must be thinking of the Schiller. It was the great unspoken dread for all of them, but she had been at pains to avoid any mention of it. It was the last thing Brigitta needed. She hoped she could rely on the Swede’s good sense. Men could be such frail creatures.
“The Lord will take care of us.”
“You’re right, sister. I’m sorry for my moment of weakness. Forgive me.”
A blond-bearded steward was moving through the saloon.
“Ladies and gentleman, you must all prepare to go on deck. If you have one, make sure you are wearing your life-belt, then move up towards the stairs at the entrance to the saloon. Try to go calmly, there is plenty of time for everyone to get out. But you must understand that this saloon will be submerged at high tide, and the captain has given the order to batten down the hatches, so everyone must come above. Once you are on deck, members of the crew will help you fasten yourselves onto the rigging to keep you safe from the wind…”
“Fasten us to the rigging?”
“So we are not swept away,” said Lundgren. He was s
till ashen pale.
Now Barbara’s hand was gripping her arm.
“I can’t do it, Henrica. I simply can’t. How can they expect us to go up there?”
“Please, Barbara, we must show a lead. If you and I are not strong, how can we expect the others to be?”
“I will not be lashed to a mast. I’d rather take my chances in here.”
“Our Lord submitted himself to greater indignities. And you heard what the steward said. This saloon will be submerged.”
“Then it is God’s will.”
The parties of steerage passengers were picking themselves up off the floor and moving back down towards the entrance to the saloon, where there was a companion-way up to the deck. Grabbing Barbara by the hand, Henrica pushed against the flow to where the others were huddled.
Brigitta was in the worst state. Her eyes were wild and she was struggling to breathe. “We should never have come,” she gasped. “We should never have left the mother-house. It was madness to travel at this time of year.”
Henrica grasped her hands to try and calm her. Couldn’t Norberta have done this?
“There is nothing we can do about that now. We have to make the best of the situation, obey instructions and bring comfort to those who need it.”
“I’m frightened.”
“Me too, Aurea. Everyone is frightened.”
“I don’t want to go on deck. It’s too dangerous…”
“I don’t want to go either, but we have no choice. It’s even more dangerous here.”
Most other occupants of the saloon were moving towards the companion-way, where an officer was urging them not to push, and to let the men of their party go up first, so they could look after their women and children at the top. But who would attend to their own party? On the other side of the room, Frau Meyer was shepherding her youngsters back down towards the companion-way, the poor little ones looking tiny and vulnerable in their life-belts. Only Lundgren lingered, his breathing nervous and shallow. “Ladies, I beg you to follow,” he said. “Please believe me when I assure you I know what I’m talking about. It’s your only chance.”
“Thank you, sir, but we are resolved to stay,” said Barbara. “We are content to put our trust in the Lord.”
Henrica tried to control her fury. She must not succumb to the sin of pride, and leadership was not necessarily about getting her way whatever the circumstances. But Barbara had no business making decisions for the group like that. Everyone was frightened, and it was utterly irresponsible to stoke the fear rather than try to quell it. Before she could say anything, however, there was a commotion at the stairwell. A woman from steerage was staggering down from the deck, her clothes sodden.
“My husband! My husband!” she screamed.
Lundgren tried to calm her as she lurched towards them.
“He will look after you if you stay on deck.”
She turned to him with a wild expression, as if her eyes barely saw him.
“He’s gone!” she screamed. “The wave took him. One moment he was there and… I reached out but I couldn’t…”
She threw herself down in a heap of skirts, sobbing and pounding on the soiled carpet with her fists.
Henrica knelt to comfort her, feeling the damp of the carpet through her tunic. “The Lord has taken him. His suffering is over and he is in a better place. But now you must save yourself. That’s what he would surely want. Please, my dear. This gentleman will look after you now.”
The Swede was bending over the keening woman to help her up.
“You will follow, sister?” he called back to Henrica.
But her companions were kneeling, and it was clear they would not obey her even if she tried to command them. Their terror of the deck was too great.
“Will you lead us in prayer?” said Barbara.
Henrica knew she could not refuse. She sank once more to her knees.
“Pater noster qui es in coelis. Sanctificetur nomen tuum.”
She was on her fifth Ave Maria when Aurea screamed. Henrica opened her eyes and saw that water had appeared at the lower end of the saloon.
The blond steward was still there, appealing to the few small huddles of passengers who had not gone up. There was desperation in his voice now.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please. I must ask you one last time to come on deck. The weather is harsh, but everyone will survive if they are safely attached, and in the morning help will come. Our position is known, and rescue will be on its way as soon as day breaks. But if you stay here, you will drown. This saloon will be under water in another hour. The navigator has made precise calculations, and there is no doubt of it. If you do not come now, you will have no chance later.”
In the corner opposite them, an exhausted Frau Pitzhold rose slowly to her feet, followed by Fräulein Forster. Henrica had not noticed they were still there. A young steerage couple got to their feet too, the trembling woman clutching a baby to her breast.
The steward held out his arms to help them. “Very good, sir, you’ve made the right decision. Take care of the lurching, ladies. Try not to be afraid, someone will help you at the top. You too, madam, step this way. The baby will be quite all right. You hold him, and someone will hold you and make sure you are tied fast. Yes please, madam, this way…”
She started at a touch on her arm. It was Marta.
“You must come up,” the stewardess pleaded, her eyes glistening. “The captain says if we can survive the night we will be saved. So I swear to you there is some hope if you go on deck. If you remain down here, there is none.”
“You go, Henrica, if you want to,” said Barbara, remaining on her knees. “We will stay here.”
What could she do? They were petrified, and she was not a military commander, ordering troops into battle. Not even Aurea would meet her eye.
Henrica understood their terror of going outside, but she herself was terrified to remain. She had been on deck, so it was not the unknown quantity to her that it was to them, and she knew the crew were right about being safe if you were lashed on. For her, the real threat was the grave-cold water lapping into their refuge. But she was their leader. If they were set on staying in the saloon, she must remain with them.
“You go, my dear,” she said to Marta. “I cannot. You’ve concerned yourself enough about us, and the Lord will thank you for it. But it is time to save yourself now.”
Turning away so that she would not lose her composure in front of the girl, she crossed herself.
She shut her eyes and thought of her father, his new wife, her younger brothers and sisters. They had all been so worried about this journey she was making, and she had brushed away their concerns. They would all still be at peace in their own beds at this hour. Soon, in the next day or two perhaps, they would hear the terrible news. Who would break it? Would they read about the shipwreck in the newspaper, or would the shipping line send someone? She remembered her poor father’s grief when her mother died. He had suffered so much then, with a young family to look after as well as classes to teach in the parish school, and now she would inflict it all on him again. She thought too of Mother Clara, left behind with the other sisters to fend for themselves in the worsening political climate. The Reverend Mother would blame herself for their deaths. It would be a torment for her, Henrica could see that with perfect clarity, and there was not a thing she could do to change it. She could only hope that the pain of loss would ease, as it surely would, and they themselves would eventually be forgotten. Better that than they be remembered as disappointments who had failed to discharge their mission.
It took another half hour for the water to arrive at the top of the saloon. They were not completely alone. Around a dozen passengers in total had refused to go on deck. When they found their ankles soaked, some of these now changed their minds, wading back towards the stairwell. But they had left it too late. The
lobbies were already submerged, and there was no way they could find their way through, even if they could bear the biting cold of the water. These people now began to wail, crying out for help to those whose advice they had earlier spurned.
“The skylights! We can get out through the skylights,” a woman shouted. “Bring the table.”
The two remaining men in their beleaguered group dragged the heavy piece of furniture from the side of the saloon to the middle, directly under one of the apertures.
“Find something to smash it with. Here, use this.”
A silver-tipped cane, discarded in the exodus, was passed up to break the panes, and glass rained down as the chill wind whistled in. Their bid for escape had alerted those on deck, and now hands reached through the gap.
“There’s too much broken glass. We’ll be cut to shreds trying to get through.”
“The life-belts will protect you.”
“Not everyone has one.”
“Then cover the edges with something. The curtains! Quick, tear them down and hand them up.”
Relieved to be doing something rather than just waiting for the end, Henrica climbed up to help pad the treacherous edges. Now, surely, her companions must be persuaded. Hitching her habit, she climbed up onto the table to try and sling the thick fabric into place. But as she did so her wrist was grabbed by a strong hand from above, and before she knew it she was being pulled through the opening.
“But I cannot leave my…”
