by Tom Bradman
The ship groaned and shuddered, and occasionally they passed people running in the opposite direction, most of them wild-eyed and panicking.
Eventually they came to the first-class areas. They burst through a set of doors and the Grand Staircase was in front of them. It looked just as it had before, and for a moment Billy simply couldn’t believe that all of this could sink. Then he looked up and saw the huge chandelier hanging at an angle, pointing towards the bow.
It was going to be under water. Soon.
He dashed towards the lounge he’d found Anya in before and called out to her. Glass crunched under his feet. He looked down and saw the remains of an expensive bottle of whisky, its dark contents staining the rich carpet.
‘Here, Fleming,’ George shouted suddenly. He had crouched down by a table and was peering underneath it. ‘It’s all right, sweetheart. We’re here to help.’
Billy ran over and knelt down too. Anya was on the floor, hugging her knees, her big eyes wet with tears. He held out a hand and tried his best to smile.
‘There you are, Anya!’ he said softly. ‘We’ve been looking for you.’
She stared at him solemnly, then took his hand and crawled out. When they stood, she wrapped her arms round Billy’s waist and squeezed him as if she’d never let go. He picked her up and she buried her small face in his neck.
They jogged back out of the lounge the way they had come and took the Grand Staircase up towards the boat deck. The corridors were empty but they were close enough to hear the chaos on deck. They were nearly there.
At last they turned a corner – and ran into a metal gate that had been pulled across the passage. Billy put Anya down and tried to move it aside, but it was firmly locked into place. Some overly efficient steward must have pulled it across to keep the first-class staterooms safe from thieves, Billy thought. He could see the exit to the boat deck no more than a few yards away.
‘Maybe we can force it,’ said George, rattling the gate.
‘No chance,’ said Billy. ‘We need another way out.’
‘We can get to the second-class exit if we go back.’
‘Lead the way,’ said Billy, scooping Anya up again.
They moved back through the corridors and down the Grand Staircase once more. Billy heard a splash when he jumped off the last step. First his toes, then his heart froze as he watched the cold water rising around his feet.
Chapter Ten
Death Trap
The water was flowing towards them along the floor of the passage – their only route to salvation although it was sloping downwards – and Billy could feel the level was already above his ankles.
‘I think we need to get a move on,’ he said, holding Anya tight against him. He could feel her shivering with cold.
‘I was about to say the same thing myself, so I was,’ muttered George.
They started to run, but the freezing seawater slowed them down. Soon it was up to their knees and they had to wade. Bits of paper floated past them and Billy was surprised to see it was money, maybe hundreds of pounds. George wanted to stop and grab some, but there was no time.
Billy forged on, his back aching from carrying Anya, and George followed, shaking his head.
Soon they had left the first-class areas behind. They rounded a corner, and now Billy could see where the water was coming from. A little way ahead a bulkhead door had bulged inwards, and water was spraying out round the entire frame, the metal squeaking and groaning as if it were in pain. Suddenly a rivet shot out and hit the opposite wall of the passage with a dull clang.
The boys looked at each other and pushed on, crouching down, as there were rivets all round the door. Another shot out as they passed it, just missing them, but for a second Billy thought they were safe. Then there was an almighty bang, louder than anything he’d heard in the shipyard, and he was thumped in the back by a freezing torrent. The door had been blown off completely.
Billy was washed along by the force of the unleashed water. He tried to hold on to Anya but he was slammed into a bulkhead and she was torn from his grasp. He grabbed another door frame and it took all his strength to get his head up for a great, gulping breath. There was less than a foot of air between the corridor’s ceiling and the flood, and the water was rising relentlessly.
George was whipped past, and Billy reached out to grab his arm and pulled the other boy to him. Billy’s fingers slipped off the door frame and the torrent swept the boys further down the passage. Billy hit something, his back grinding into what felt like metal steps, and realised they were in one of the utility stairwells. They could get up on deck from here.
But what about Anya?
George coughed water from his lungs and clawed his way onto the steps. The agonising cold spread through Billy’s bones, sending icy jolts of pain through every muscle. He dragged himself up beside George and the two boys lay panting on the metal stairs, the water lapping at their boots.
But Billy knew he couldn’t stay there long. He helped George up the next flight of steps and sat him down next to another bulkhead door that was still half open.
‘I’m going back for Anya,’ Billy said, stripping off his sodden jacket.
George stared at him in disbelief. ‘But she must be dead!’ he said.
‘Maybe not,’ Billy said, pulling off his boots and trying to ignore how cold he felt. ‘There’s a chance she might be in one of the cabins off the corridor.’
‘You’re mad,’ said George, his teeth chattering. ‘Even if she’s alive, you’ll never make it. The corridor will be full to the ceiling by now, and this stairwell is a death trap. We won’t get out once the water rises and closes the door.’
‘Then you’d better keep it open, Anderson,’ Billy said quietly.
They stared at each other for a moment. George nodded.
‘I… I’ll do my best, so I will,’ he said, hugging himself.
‘That’s all any of us can do,’ said Billy, remembering something he’d heard Reverend Magill say in a sermon. ‘See you in a wee while.’
Billy turned and went down the steps. The level had risen at least a foot while they had been talking, and he tried not to think about that. He felt chilled to the bone, his pulse beat a tattoo in his ear and he was terrified – he knew that he would have to swim further under water than he had ever done in his life. And then he would have to swim the same distance back again. He took a deep breath, gritted his teeth – and plunged into the freezing water.
His heart pounded as the bitter cold clutched at his body, but he pulled himself through the door and swam into the corridor again. The ceiling lights glowed fuzzily through the water. Billy suddenly wondered why the ship’s electrics hadn’t failed – and hoped it wouldn’t happen just yet. Swimming in freezing water while he held his breath was bad enough. Doing it in the dark would be a nightmare, and one he probably wouldn’t wake up from.
Billy kicked on, heading the way they’d come. He passed open doors and quickly checked the cabins, but they were all empty. Floating through the empty, beautiful ship was like being in a strange dream, although soon his lungs were burning. He kept his mouth shut tight, knowing he had to hold on to what little air he had left. The corridor was getting darker. No, not the corridor – his vision was fading. His head pounded. He was going to drown down here…
Then suddenly through another door he caught sight of a pair of small legs. He swam into the cabin, a large one, and pushed himself up. His head burst out of the water and he smacked into the ceiling.
There were barely two inches of air, but he gulped in a breath and felt himself coming back to life.
Anya was beside him, clinging to a light fitting on the wall. Her lips were blue, but she chattered excitedly in Polish and was clearly very happy to see him. She threw her arms round his neck and squeezed tight.
‘Don’t you worry, Anya,’ he said. ‘I’m going to save you.’
He pointed down into the water. He pointed at both of them and then down again, t
rying to mime what they were going to do.
At first she shook her little head, eyes wide with terror, and Billy thought he would have to drag her with him kicking and screaming. But then she seemed to calm down, and before long she was nodding, letting him know she would do what he wanted.
‘You’re a good girl, Anya, even if you do run off,’ Billy said, smiling at her. ‘And I think you’re probably a darn sight braver than I’ll ever be.’
He put one arm round her and mimed taking a deep breath. Anya did as she was told, and Billy plunged them under the water before she had a chance to change her mind. Billy knew where he was going and he wasn’t about to let down the little girl in his arms.
Even so, his chest was in agony by the time they reached the stairwell and he started swimming upwards. Then he saw the one thing he had been scared of. The rising water had covered the bulkhead door – and it was closed. Billy kicked against it, but all he did was stub his toe.
He looked up. There was only more water above, no pocket of trapped air. He felt the awful pressure in his lungs, the desperate need to take a breath. Anya clung on even more tightly and stared at him with the fear of death in her child’s eyes, her cheeks puffed out. She shook her head again and a stream of bubbles burst from her mouth. Her grip on him began to slacken and her eyes closed.
She was going to die because he hadn’t saved her. It was his fault…
Suddenly there was a screeching noise and Billy felt himself being sucked towards the door. The end of a metal pole had appeared at one edge and he realised someone had pushed it through from the other side to lever the heavy door open. The water was flooding out, pulling Billy and Anya with it.
The door inched wider and Billy tried to help, pulling at the door with his free hand, straining with all his might, feeling as if he was fighting the force of the whole Atlantic Ocean. Then with a rush they were washed out into a corridor beyond.
George stood over them, breathing heavily, still gripping the pole.
‘I’m sorry, so sorry, I couldn’t stop it closing, I thought you were a goner,’ he said, his face full of anguish. ‘I had to go and find something to get it open.’
He pulled the pole out and the pressure of the water in the stairwell instantly slammed the door shut with a clang. Billy rolled over to check on Anya. She lay still, her face deathly white, her eyes still shut, her lips bluer than before.
‘Oh, dear God,’ whispered George. ‘Is she…?’
Billy couldn’t believe it. He’d been so close.
He reached out to grab her, shake her till she woke up. Instead, he clumsily slammed into her chest, landing hard on her with his shoulder. She coughed and retched, then moaned.
‘She’s alive!’ shouted George. ‘You did it, Fleming! You saved her!’
But had he? For all he knew they might still be trapped.
Chapter Eleven
First Class Only
Anya retched some more, but she seemed to recover well enough. If she was anything to go by, Billy thought, these Poles must be pretty tough people. But the three of them were shivering, their clothes were soaked, and Billy wondered how much longer they could keep going.
They had to get up on deck.
‘Any idea where we are?’ he said, looking round, his teeth chattering.
‘In the middle of the ship,’ said George. ‘It’s all first class here.’
A long corridor stretched away, cabin doors lining both sides. It felt strange to be in a part of the ship that was still dry and looked relatively normal. ‘Right, this way,’ said Billy, trying to sound confident that he knew what to do. He picked Anya up once more and hurried off, Billy following close behind.
‘Hang on a second, Fleming,’ George said when they hadn’t gone far. He had stopped by an open door and was grinning. ‘Fancy a change of clothes?’
Billy and Anya peered through the door. Beyond it was one of the first-class suites, and it was clear its occupants had left in a hurry. Two huge travelling trunks stood open on the carpet, clothes of all kinds spilling from them.
‘I’d like to feel drier, so I would,’ said Billy, grinning now too. ‘And it would be good for Anya to get a bit warmer. But we’ll have to be quick.’
Billy and George tore through the luggage, examining clothes and discarding them until they found what they wanted. Within minutes Anya was swaddled in a nightshirt and a thick pullover. Billy shed what was left of his uniform and pulled on some trousers and a pullover, both too big for him. George did better – one of the former occupants of the cabin must have been more his size.
Suddenly the deck beneath their feet juddered and they heard a grinding noise louder than anything they’d heard before. The cabin’s lights flickered and went out, plunging them into darkness. Anya squealed and held on to Billy’s leg, and George yelled in panic. For a brief moment Billy was convinced they were finished. They’d never find their way up on deck in the dark. But then the lights flickered into life again and they all breathed huge sighs of relief.
‘Come on,’ said Billy. ‘We are definitely running out of time!’
They left the cabin and headed along the corridor until they came to a gangway that led upwards. Anya seemed to be getting heavier, and Billy puffed and panted as they climbed the steps. His arms and shoulders ached so badly he didn’t think he could carry her much further. They went up one flight, then another, Billy worrying all the while that they’d find another gate at the top.
But they didn’t. The doors were open and unblocked and Billy, Anya and George emerged onto the boat deck not far from where Billy had begun his descent into the bowels of the ship earlier.
Things had changed a great deal, though, and for a moment Billy just stood and stared at the incredible scene before them, Anya still clinging to him, her arms tight round his neck.
The ship’s bow was completely submerged and the sea lapped at the windows of the bridge. There were people everywhere, some stumbling around as if in a daze, some running, many of them shouting the names of family or friends or screaming in despair.
The deck tilted downwards steeply, and Billy saw a man trip and fall then roll head over heels until he crashed into a bulkhead.
Further along, the band from one of the first-class lounges was playing a haunting, sad tune, five men in evening dress with violins, their pale faces rapt.
‘God, it’s like a madhouse,’ George said, his voice hushed.
Suddenly, with a familiar whoosh, another distress rocket rose into the night sky and exploded. The starburst lit the sea in a great ring round the ship and Billy saw at least half a dozen lifeboats moving steadily away over the dark water, maybe more. But that was on this side, he realised. There were only sixteen lifeboats in total – so most of them might already have been launched.
‘I think we’d better find your Ma and sisters, Anya,’ Billy said.
Anya’s mother, however, wasn’t where Billy had told her to wait. Anya burrowed into Billy’s neck and started to cry. He tried to comfort her, then caught sight of her mother and sisters standing at the rear of a crowd further along the deck.
‘Hey, over here!’ he yelled, and Anya’s mother whipped round, her face full of joy. She ran to Billy, Anya’s sisters clinging to her skirts.
Anya leapt out of Billy’s arms and into her mother’s. There was a lot of weeping and wailing and hugging and streams of Polish. Anya’s mother was sobbing with joy to have her daughter back, although she was obviously surprised to see her in such strange clothes, and at one point Billy was sure she gave Anya a telling-off.
That would be for getting lost in the first place, Billy realised, and smiled when he thought his own Ma would do the same.
Then Anya’s mother grabbed Billy and started planting kisses all over his face. Anya was almost crushed between them and George stood back, laughing.
‘You’ve made a friend for life there, so you have, Billy Fleming,’ he said. ‘In fact, if she wasn’t already married, I’d say you wer
e in with a chance.’
‘You don’t know what you’re talking about,’ muttered Billy, trying to push Anya’s mother off. He could feel himself blushing despite the bitter cold. ‘I can’t understand why the blasted woman is making such a fuss of me.’
‘Well, you did just save her daughter’s life,’ said George.
‘Not yet,’ said Billy, freeing himself at last. ‘The job’s only half done. We need to get them in a lifeboat or we might as well not have bothered.’
George stopped laughing and that anguished look returned to his face. Anya’s mother sensed the change in mood. She said something to Billy, a single word, then tugged his arm and pointed at the crowd where he had spotted her. She spoke again, saying the same word several times until Billy finally understood – she was trying to say ‘boat’ in English, her accent making it sound Polish.
Billy let himself be pulled along, nodding at George to follow. Anya’s mother pushed into the crowd, carrying Anya and holding Billy’s hand, and still managing to shepherd her other daughters along in front of her.
‘Hey, who do you think you’re shoving, Mrs?’ said a tetchy voice. A young man had turned to glare at them. His hair was parted in the middle, a thin moustache clung to his top lip, and he wore a sharp suit. But his face was pale and frightened.
‘Back off there, let the women and kiddies through!’ somebody yelled.
‘It’s not just women and kiddies, is it?’ said the young man, his tone even more petulant.
But no one was listening to him, and the crowd parted, allowing Anya’s mother up to the handrail with her children and Billy and George.
A little further along a section of the handrail was open and a seaman was helping passengers into a lifeboat, the last one on this side of the ship as far as Billy could see. The crowd watched sullenly, and Billy soon realised why. The people getting into the lifeboat were clearly first-class passengers, and those making up the crowd clearly weren’t. Three burly seamen held them back.
