by Tom Bradman
TITANIC
Death on the Water
TOM & TONY BRADMAN
For Sally/Mum,
who had to put up with all the complaining
The National Archives
The National Archives is the UK government’s official archive, containing over a thousand years of history. They give detailed guidance to government departments and the public sector on information management and advise others about the care of historical archives.
www.nationalarchives.gov.uk
Contents
One A Well-Respected Man
Two The Chief Purser
Three A Floating City
Four Score One to Billy
Five A Very Special Job
Six Scribbled Messages
Seven Argument on the Bridge
Eight Rich Man’s Rules
Nine Cold Water Rising
Ten Death Trap
Eleven First Class Only
Twelve Last Moments
Thirteen The Lucky Ones
Postscript A Titanic Story
Chapter One
A Well-Respected Man
It was a terrible thing to admit even to himself, but Billy was glad his Da was dead.
Maybe glad was a bit strong, he thought as he looked down at the coffin in the open grave; relieved would be a better word. He was definitely relieved.
Billy glanced guiltily at Ma. She was standing beside him in the circle of mourners and stared straight ahead, her eyes dry, although her face was pale and drawn from all the crying she had done over the last week. Beyond her, Billy’s sisters sobbed uncontrollably. Ada, Nelly, Daisy and little six-year-old Mabel were dark-haired and brown-eyed like Da, and pretty too, while Billy had Ma’s sandy looks and blue eyes. But Billy was tall like his Da.
It was a bitterly cold March day in Belfast and a sharp wind brought the salt tang of the Irish Sea into the graveyard. Ma gripped Billy’s hand. The Reverend Magill – vicar of Trinity, their local church – was coming to the end of the service. ‘Therefore O Lord, we commit thy servant’s body to the ground,’ he droned. ‘Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust, in sure and certain hope of resurrection to eternal life, through our Lord Jesus Christ…’
Then it was over. A couple of men began shovelling dark soil into the grave and the crowd of black-clad mourners moved away. The Reverend came up to shake Ma’s hand. ‘A fine turn-out today, Mrs Fleming,’ he said. ‘But that’s no surprise. Your Robert was always a well respected man.’
‘Aye, so he was,’ said Ma. She looked at Billy and he quickly lowered his gaze. Sometimes he felt she could see right inside his mind. ‘You’ll be coming back to the house for some tea and cake, Reverend?’ she went on.
‘Of course,’ said the Reverend. ‘It’s kind of you to ask.’
Ma, Billy and the girls went home in the undertaker’s carriage that had brought them. Mabel stopped crying, so fascinated was she by the horses, a pair of coal-black stallions with black feather head-dresses.
Billy stared out at the terraces of red-brick houses. His Da had been a well respected man right enough, but he had also been a difficult man to live with. Especially if you were his son and didn’t want to follow the path he had chosen for you.
Da had been a fitter at the Harland and Wolff shipyard, a skilled man, and he’d said it was the best job in Belfast. He’d started as a fourteen-year-old apprentice and couldn’t understand why Billy didn’t jump at the chance to do the same. They had argued, and Ma had tried to make peace between them, but there could only have been one end to their quarrel.
Two months ago, on the day he’d turned fourteen, Billy had left school and started at the shipyard.
Ma had laid the table in the parlour before they had left for the funeral. As soon as they were indoors she uncovered the cakes and sandwiches.
‘Will I be pouring the tea, Ma?’ said Billy, keen to help.
‘You most certainly will not,’ said Ma, giving him a stern look. ‘You’re the man of the house now, Billy. Your job is to welcome our guests.’
Someone was already knocking at the door, and for the next half hour Billy was kept busy ushering people in until the small house was packed. There were aunts and uncles and cousins galore, friends of the family and Da’s workmates and plenty of people Billy didn’t know from Adam. They all murmured their condolences to Ma then stood talking to each other in hushed voices.
Da’s workmates stayed in the hall and ended up sitting on the stairs. They reminded Billy of a picture he’d seen at Sunday school, a line of angels ascending to heaven. But Da’s workmates were no angels, they were hard like Da. How could they be anything else? Working in the shipyard was dangerous and they risked their lives every day. Da had been hammering rivets fifty feet up the side of a hull when the plank he was standing on had given way.
‘Have you not got anything a wee bit stronger, Billy?’ said one of the men. It was strange to see them in their Sunday best and not their caps and working clothes and heavy boots. It was even stranger not to hear them continually swearing and cursing and taking the Lord’s name in vain. ‘We can’t give your Da a proper send-off with nothing to drink but tea. Did he not keep a bottle hidden from your Ma somewhere? Find it for us, there’s a good lad.’
‘I’ll see what I can do,’ said Billy, and headed for the scullery. He was used to being given orders. For the last two months Da and his workmates had sent him on errands all over the shipyard, many of them practical jokes. Not that he’d minded being told to ask at the stores for a left-handed bolt wrench or a packet of skyhooks, even though such things didn’t exist. He had been more worried by the fact that everything in the shipyard terrified him.
Da had sometimes taken him to the shipyard when he was younger and it had always reminded him of other pictures he’d seen at Sunday school – those of Hell. The shipyard was a place of sound and fury and constant movement, of sudden showers of sparks and clanging steel and men having to do ridiculously dangerous things as a normal part of their jobs.
Da and his workmates made light of it and told black jokes about men being crushed unexpectedly or mistakenly sealed into tiny compartments at the bottom of hulls. Billy had listened, taking it all in, and a small, frightened voice inside him had said, I will never be brave enough to work in this place.
He couldn’t have admitted that to Da, although Da had eventually guessed how he felt. Da had taken him to one side and said that everyone was scared at first, but he just had to get over it and not let himself down in front of the other men.
Billy had said nothing, and knew he would never be the man his Da wanted him to be.
What was going to happen now? He hated the idea of staying on at the shipyard, but he hadn’t talked to Ma about it, and with Da gone they might need his wage to help support the family. What else could he do, anyway?
Mabel popped up and pulled his sleeve. ‘Ma wants you, Billy,’ she piped.
Billy sighed. Apparently Ma could read his mind through several walls and a whole crowd of people. He turned round and headed for the parlour. It looked like Da’s workmates wouldn’t get their hands on his whiskey just yet.
Ma was sitting on the best sofa with the Reverend Magill. He was sipping tea, a plate of crumbs balanced on one knee. ‘The Reverend wanted to see if you’re all right,’ said Ma, her eyes telling him to stand up straight and behave.
‘It’s a hard thing for a boy to lose his father, Billy,’ said the Reverend. ‘But at least you have your mother and sisters and a job with good prospects. You must be proud to know you’ll be following in your father’s footsteps.’
Not if I can help it, thought Billy, seeing in his mind a picture of Da walking along that plank and falling. ‘I’ll do my best, Reverend,’ he said.
‘It must be a grand time to be working at the shipyard,’ said the Reverend. ‘The big ship is a wonder, so it is. You can see it ten streets away.’
‘Grand, yes,’ said Billy. He did feel proud to be working on the big ship, as everyone called it, even if he only did lots of fetching and carrying.
‘And unsinkable, at least according to the newspapers,’ said the Reverend. ‘Mind you, anyone who knows his classics might call that hubris.’
Billy hadn’t a clue what he meant. The Reverend often came out with stuff that went over his head. ‘The ship’s near finished. Then it’s sea trials.’
‘I know,’ said the Reverend. ‘I hear they’ve already taken on some crew. Tom Gibson’s son has signed up and he’s not much older than you.’
Billy stared at him, then glanced at Ma, their eyes meeting before he looked away.
‘Well, thanks for the tea and cake, Mrs Fleming, but I must be off,’ the Reverend went on. ‘I’ll see you and your family next Sunday.’
‘Fetch the Reverend his hat, Billy,’ said Ma.
Billy saw the Reverend out. But all he could think of was what he’d just heard. Maybe there was something else he could do.
Maybe he could get a job on the Titanic.
Chapter Two
The Chief Purser
Reverend Magill had been wrong about one thing, Billy thought as he left for work the next morning. You could see the big ship more than ten streets away. Over the last three years the Titanic had slowly risen beneath a framework of huge gantries until it was a mountain of iron and steel that dominated the city’s skyline. From a distance the men working on it looked like ants.
At the end of his street Billy joined those men, a tide of Harland and Wolff workers heading for the shipyard. They were happy, pleased to be in work, proud such a great ship was being built in their city. The Titanic had kept all sorts of trades busy – fitters and welders and platers, of course, and carpenters and decorators and upholsterers since the internal fitting out had begun.
Billy yawned and rubbed his eyes. He had passed a restless, sleepless night, wondering what kind of job there might be for him on the Titanic. It went without saying that the ship would need lots of sailors and stokers for the huge engines. But Billy had heard about the fancy restaurants and beautiful luxury cabins and he hoped there would be better, safer jobs for boys his age.
The tall wrought-iron gates to the shipyard were wide open and Billy went through with everyone else. However, instead of turning to the left and heading in the usual direction, he turned right and made for the long red-brick building that housed the offices. He pushed open the door and went inside.
A polished marble floor stretched before him. Billy walked across it to a wooden counter. A man was leaning on it and writing in a register. ‘Excuse me,’ said Billy. ‘Where are they signing on crew for the Titanic?’
The man pointed his pen at the stairs without looking up. ‘Thanks,’ said Billy. He climbed the stairs to a landing where a pair of double doors led to a large hall.
Half a dozen tables stood round the walls, men in dark blue uniforms sitting behind each one. There were chairs in front of them for the men being interviewed. More men and a few boys sat on chairs in the middle of the hall, most in caps and working clothes, others in smarter outfits.
Billy was in his working clothes. He hesitated for a moment, then sat beside a boy in a suit.
The boy looked Billy up and down with a smirk and turned to a man on the other side of him to whisper something. They both laughed.
‘Next!’ called out the man behind the nearest table. The boy in the suit was whispering to his friend again, so Billy stood up and went first. He glanced round as he sat down and saw the boy in the suit glaring at him.
‘Name?’ said the man at the table. He had a large open face and short dark hair. His uniform was well pressed and his buttons gleamed. On one corner of the table was a brass nameplate that read Chief Purser H.W. McElroy.
‘Billy Fleming, sir.’ Billy put his hands together to stop them trembling.
‘What makes you think you could work on the Titanic, Billy?’ said Mr McElroy. His accent was English. ‘We only want the best crew for her.’
‘I’m a hard worker sir, anyone in the shipyard will tell you that, sir.’
‘I’m sure you are, but most of the labourers we’ve seen are only suited to be deckhands or stokers. I’m hiring stewards and waiters and bellboys.’
‘Oh, I’m not a labourer, sir,’ Billy said quickly. ‘I’m an apprentice fitter, but I want to do some other kind of job. Something where you don’t have to…’
Billy stopped, uncertain how to continue. He had almost said something where you don’t have to risk your life every day, but had decided that might not strike the right note. Mr McElroy finished what he was saying for him.
‘Where you don’t have to get your hands dirty,’ he said, and smiled.
‘That’s it, sir,’ said Billy, smiling back. ‘I’d like to better myself.’
‘Very commendable.’
Mr McElroy paused for a moment and studied him. Billy felt his cheeks turning red, but he held the Chief Purser’s gaze. ‘Your luck might be in. I’m still looking for a couple of likely lads to be bellboys. It would mean being at the beck and call of wealthy people and doing a lot of fetching and carrying for them. Could you manage all that, Billy?’
‘Aye sir, definitely. I wouldn’t let you down, sir.’
Mr McElroy tapped his pen on the table. Then he took a sheet of paper from a stack at his elbow and started writing. ‘All right, I’ll give you a chance. How old are you?’ Billy told him. ‘I see – you’ll need your father’s consent.’
‘My Da died a week ago, sir. We only buried him yesterday.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that, Billy.’ Mr McElroy looked up. ‘Still got your mother?’ Billy nodded. ‘She can sign it for you, just here.’ He handed Billy the paper and pointed at a line that read Consent of Parent or Guardian. ‘Bring it back tomorrow and we’ll see about getting you kitted out. Next!’
Billy stood up and moved away from the table feeling slightly dazed, the paper in his hand. The boy in the suit brushed past him but Billy took no notice. He felt a surge of joy and grinned as he walked out of the hall.
His grin vanished halfway down the stairs. There would be no job if Ma didn’t sign the paper. And getting her to do that might not be so easy.
* * *
Ma sat at the kitchen table with a cup of tea and the paper Mr McElroy had given Billy. She had shooed the girls out of the house when Billy told her what he had done, but they had soon sneaked back in. He knew they were on the other side of the kitchen door, their ears pressed up against it.
‘Sorry if this is a bit of a shock for you, Ma,’ he said.
‘It’s maybe not so much of a shock as some I’ve had recently,’ said Ma. Billy saw Da’s coffin in his mind’s eye and felt a wave of guilt. ‘Besides,’ Ma went on quietly, her eyes fixed on his, ‘I was expecting it, so I was.’
‘Really?’ said Billy, although he wasn’t surprised.
‘I don’t mean you getting a job on the big ship. I knew you wouldn’t want to stay on at the shipyard, that’s all. Not after your Da was gone.’
Billy didn’t know what to say, and was silent for a moment.
‘You don’t think badly of me, do you, Ma?’ he said at last.
‘No, I don’t, Billy. And I hope you don’t think badly of your Da either. He was only trying to do his best for you.’
‘It didn’t feel like that. Not sometimes, anyway.’
‘Well, your Da could be stubborn, and he should have known life is too short for arguing. But I don’t mind you leaving the shipyard. I only wish you didn’t have to go gallivanting off half way across the world.’
Billy smiled at her, relieved. ‘You’re always saying half of Ireland has gone to America, Ma. The Titanic’s maiden voyage is only to New York. I’ll be back in a couple of months. You’ll ha
rdly know I’ve been gone.’
‘I doubt that, Billy,’ she said. ‘I’ll miss you every second.’
‘Are you sure it’s all right, though? What about my wage?’
‘Don’t you worry about that, Billy. We’ll manage. Are you sure it’s the right thing for you, though? It’s a big step for someone your age.’
Billy thought for a second. It was a huge step for him, and a scary one. But it would be exciting too. ‘Yes, I’m sure,’ he said.
‘So be it, then,’ said Ma, her eyes glistening. ‘Now come and give your Ma a hug before I sign your life away on this paper.’
She held him tightly then let him go so that she could wipe her eyes with the wee hanky she always kept tucked up her sleeve. ‘I’ll still worry about you, so I will,’ she said. ‘The shipyard is a hard place, but sea voyages can be dangerous too.’
‘I’ll be fine, Ma. Didn’t you hear what the Reverend said? The Titanic is going to be unsinkable, the safest ship there’s ever been.’
‘I’m glad to hear it,’ she said. ‘But it still killed your Da.’
Billy frowned. He hadn’t thought of it quite that way.
Chapter Three
A Floating City
The next morning Ma went in with Billy and spoke to his foreman. Billy had thought it might be difficult to get out of his apprenticeship, and that Da’s workmates might give him a hard time. But it wasn’t, and they were pleased for him. ‘The Titanic! Good on you, Billy!’ one of them said. ‘You’re better off out of this hellhole. A life of excitement and adventure, that’s the ticket.’
‘Not too much excitement and adventure, I hope,’ said Ma, and the men had laughed and clapped him on the back and wished him all the best. Then Ma had gone home to the girls – she had left Ada in charge of the young ones, but they always fought – and Billy went to the offices to find Mr McElroy. He handed over the signed paper, and Mr McElroy smiled and shook his hand.
