Authors: Irene N.Watts
As Mother said, “There are those at the top and those at the bottom of the heap.”
“Thanks, Hart, maybe I have been carried away a bit. But I’ve enjoyed myself as much as the children!”
“You’ve been a tonic for those little girls. Anyone can see how fond you are of them. Look at the time! I must go. I’ve to press Lady Milton’s dinner gown, her newest one, bought especially for the voyage. A lovely, dusty-rose-colored silk, with an embroidered bodice and matching shoes. I will see you tonight, though if it gets any colder, you would be better off in the servants’ saloon than walking on deck and freezing to death!”
It is kind of Hart to give me this time to myself every evening. She does not need to do that, and I would never have asked her. She was right about the cold. Tonight I stay out hardly any time at all and am soon driven back to our stateroom. Hart crouches by the electric heater, and I sit beside her, warming my frozen fingers.
“You want to be careful not to be blown overboard on a night like this, Gardener. I’ll go down to the saloon for a bit, just to show my face. I’ll be back up long before her ladyship returns, after the concert.”
The girls lie curled up beside each other, just like Kathleen and I used to do. I cover them with an extra blanket, then lay out their warmest clothes for the morning, adding flannel petticoats. The life jackets are on the chairs, arranged as I have done since our
first night on board. The little sisters compete now for who can put on their jacket first and who will receive the first sugar cube.
I told them earlier, “I declare you have eaten so much Sunday dinner, I shall have to ask for adult-size life jackets for you both!” They giggled, puffed out their cheeks, and strutted round the cabin, enjoying the joke.
Our Sunday night dinner of roast lamb and mint sauce, as well as chicken or beef, salads, vegetables, and new potatoes, would last our family for a week. You would think that Chef grows a garden on deck! As well as ice cream and oranges in jelly, Mrs. Landers brought in a fruit basket crammed with every imaginable fruit, even purple grapes the size of plums! “Every table in the dining rooms, for all three classes, has a similar basket,” she said, “as a centerpiece for Sunday night.”
I’m afraid Mrs. Wilson will not only have to lengthen the hems of my uniforms, but also let out the seams….
I close the door of the children’s room. The girls have not stirred. I feel restless–it has been quiet tonight, passengers retiring early because of the change in the weather. Our hot chocolate is waiting on the table, and Mrs. Landers has brought in a dish of biscuits as usual, but I am too full to nibble even one. I put my feet up on a chair and lean back on
the sofa, waiting for Hart to return. She often has some interesting gossip to tell me!
I must have dozed off to the steady throb of the ship’s engines. But suddenly I wake up as if someone had nudged me, the kind of jolt that occurs when Mr. Harris stops the automobile unexpectedly. A scraping sound fills my ears–sharp as nails across a blackboard, yet distant, as if a grand piano were being dragged carelessly across a polished floor.
Why would someone be moving furniture at this time? And how can I manage to hear it when there is carpet everywhere?
Something else must be causing the noise.
I look out into the corridor, and a few other passengers do the same. A gentleman wearing his dressing gown peers round his cabin door, before closing it again. There is nothing unusual at all, except that just as I am getting ready to go to bed, I notice that the engines have stopped. I stand still, listening to the unaccustomed silence replacing the hum of working engines. I go to the window and look out.
The night sky is brilliant with stars, then a dark shadow looms up close and drifts past. I remember Lord Milton’s words when we stopped moving that first day out of Southampton. He said that it was a close shave after the
Titanic
had started to move again. But now we are well on our way to New York, with the whole ocean to sail on.
What could possibly
get in the way of our ship?
A gong booms from one end of the ship to the other–
is it a warning of some kind?
Moments later, Hart bustles in.
“Not in bed yet, Gardener? It is nice and warm in here. You’ll never guess what I brought to show you, look!” She holds out her hand, with a piece of ice beginning to melt in her palm. “There are more pieces on deck.” Hart warms her hands in front of the heater.
Something strange is happening. Nothing feels right…
.
“Did you hear that gong sounding a minute ago?” I ask her. Hart shrugs her shoulders.
“There was quite a party going on in the third-class saloon. Some of the lads sounded the gong for a lark–I shouldn’t be a bit surprised!” she says. “We could hear them singing and dancing earlier, before the steward switched off their lights at eleven o’clock! It will soon be midnight, and I’m off to my bed. Lady Milton is fast asleep, and Lord Milton has gone up to smoke a last cigar.” She yawns.
Footsteps hurry up and down the corridor, followed by a knock on the door. Mrs. Landers does not wait for a reply, but enters and says, “No need for alarm, ladies.”
I feel certain she means the exact opposite!
“Captain Smith has requested all passengers to go up on the boat deck and to bring their life jackets. It is only a precaution, he said. There is nothing to
worry about.” Our stewardess disappears before we have a chance to ask her any questions. The engines have not started up again.
“I will see you and the girls on deck, Gardener. I must wake Lady Milton and help her dress–she will need her furs. I hope Lord Milton has returned from the smoking room,” Hart says.
“Hart, wait, put your coat on! And take your life jacket,” I say, reaching up to get it down for her from the top of the wardrobe.
“I’ll come back for it later. No doubt it is only a drill, our first one! Though why they would choose a cold Sunday night…”
After Hart leaves, a kind of calm settles over me. I have a premonition that something beyond my control is about to happen.
Is this the moment I have been preparing for, without knowing it?
Deep down, my mistrust of the sea is always there, waiting to surface.
I wake up the sleepy children and dress them. They raise and lower their arms obediently, helping me to put on their life jackets over their coats.
“Look at us, dressing in the middle of the night because Captain Smith wants us to go on deck so he can count the passengers!” I say. “Come along now, and very soon your mama and papa and Hart will join us.” I put on my own coat and life jacket and, before leaving the cabin, wrap a few biscuits in a
napkin and thrust them deep into the pockets of my coat. We may be on deck for some time!
“Is this a game?” Miss Portia asks.
“A kind of game,” I reply.
When we go out in the corridor, ladies and gentlemen are laughing and joking as if it is the most natural thing in the world to go up on deck at a time when normally we’d all be asleep.
One lady who is draped in a blanket asks her steward if she is expected to go up too. “I have a cold,” she says, “I would like some tea with lemon, if you please.”
“Don’t you worry, madam, you will all be back on board by morning,” he replies, continuing down the corridor.
“Then I intend to wait and see what morning brings–after I am suitably dressed and have eaten my breakfast,” she says to his retreating form and goes back into her room, shutting the door behind her.
It sounds as if we may be going on the lifeboats! I hurry the children toward the lift. All around us, passengers are emerging in the strangest assortment of clothes. Furs over night attire, one lady in her slippers, another carrying several shawls and a hatbox! Stewards are still knocking on cabin doors, smiling, and speaking reassuringly: “No cause for alarm, madam, sir!” I’m beginning to wonder if they really know what is going on.
A portly gentleman, still dressed in his evening clothes, takes hold of a steward’s arm. “Look here, my good man, why has the captain not made an announcement to the passengers? Not very sporting, keeping us in the dark like this!” The lift arrives and the door opens. He enters in front of us, making sure he and his wife have enough room. I follow them in.
We are packed together tightly, and I pick up Miss Alexandra. Another gentleman comforts his wife, “This is a mere formality, my dear, you must not upset yourself! If anything was really amiss, we would have been notified.”
Outside, on deck, the cold takes my breath away. I turn up the collars of our coats.
“Where is the moon gone, Gardy?”
“It is late, after midnight; I expect the moon is asleep!”
We hold on to each other’s hands tightly. Miss Alexandra is already shivering with cold. I scan the deck, hoping to see Lord and Lady Milton and Hart.
The lift brings up more and more passengers. A group waits near us, trying to get some information from the officers. They are too busy to answer, directing and instructing the crew, who have begun to lower the lifeboats on the starboard side. I think I recognize the girl I saw on the first day, standing with
her young brother and sister, though it is difficult to make out faces clearly.
What are the second-class passengers doing up here, if there is nothing amiss?
The most wonderful aroma of freshly baked bread is in the air. Two of the pantry boys have brought up baskets of bread. Anyone would think we are about to have a midnight picnic! Miss Portia tugs at my hand. She wants to look over the railing and stands on tiptoe to do so. I grip her by the back of her life jacket with one hand. With the other, I clutch Miss Alexandra, who is doing her best to follow her sister.
A lifeboat hovers in midair, being let down inch by inch, ropes creaking in the wind. The blackness of the water so far below us makes me dizzy. I hear an officer asking the ladies to enter the boat. He calls out in vain.
Who wants to leave our beautiful ship to step down into that nothingness?
A hissing noise erupts as steam shoots out of the funnels, adding to the clamor on deck. If only there was someone to tell us what to do …
“W
omen and children first, please,” says the officer in charge. He sounds like a salesman pushing his wares, trying to coax unwilling customers to purchase his goods.
But no one wants to leave the
Titanic. Why would they?
A gentleman nearby urges his wife to go. I overhear his wife say, “Nonsense, Herbert, I refuse to enter one of those small wooden boats, not on someone’s whim. No, don’t tell me again that you think we have struck an iceberg–it makes no difference. We will be safer on board!” They move off.
An iceberg! Could it be true?
Hart did show me a piece of ice, but Mrs. Landers would have told us if there was any danger. And I believe in Mr. Andrews. He said the ship is watertight. However, it is too cold for the children to stay out here any longer!
“Come along, my dears, we will go to the gymnasium. It will be nice and warm in there and much easier for your mama and papa to find us.”
What can be taking them so long?
Several passengers, encouraged by the gymnasium instructor, are using the stationary bicycles and rowing machines. Music wafts in from the deck. The orchestra must have come up to play. I recognize the melody–Mr. Phipps has been known to whistle it. He said it is the latest American composition, called “Alexander’s Ragtime Band.”
Miss Alexandra immediately stamps her feet and claps her hands in time to the music. A lady smiles at her indulgently. I rub my hands–icy inside my gloves–and for a few seconds, take my eyes off the child.
I should know better!
I see her dart outside again, in search of the music.
“Miss Portia, I want you to be a good, brave girl and stay right here. I will be back as fast as I can. I must find your sister,” I say.
“Please don’t leave me, Gardy,” she says with a sob. I am tempted not to, but taking her with me would cause delay. The instructor and several passengers are close by.
“I must, Miss Portia. I will be back as soon as I can, I promise!” I swallow my panic.
I will find her, of course I will
. I run out, looking from one side of the deck to the other. How dark and gloomy it looks
compared to the brightness of the gymnasium. Many more passengers have arrived on deck. The blackness of the sky, despite the brilliance of the stars, is bewildering after the light and warmth of the gymnasium. I feel as if I am chasing shadows.…
A dog barks, poking his small head out of a lady’s muff. Most of the animals on board live below the passenger decks, in kennels and cages. Stewards and crew members walk the dogs during the day. I like to look down on them as they walk round and round on the second-class promenade. I must concentrate.
Where would she go?
“Oh, where are you, Alexandra?”
Who are all these people?
I think I see her and call out her name, but the small figure in its dark blue coat and bonnet disappears into the gloom. I make my way towards the orchestra. Surely, that is where she will be.
I make a silent promise that I will never, ever allow such a thing to happen again. Nanny Mackintosh was right not to trust me!
Suddenly, rockets flare up into the sky, blazing like fireworks on Guy Fawkes Night! For a moment, the crowd moves with and against each other, not knowing what to do or where to go. We all realize this is a call for help. The
Titanic
is sending a signal to the world of her distress!
The danger is real–I must find Miss Alexandra.
Suppose Miss Portia gets tired of waiting and comes to
look for us? The three of us separated!
Crewmen tug at ropes and run back and forth, shouting instructions to each other. More passengers crowd onto the deck, jostling for space. They are laden with boxes and parcels, speaking in a babble of languages. The children, none of whom I have seen before, are bewildered and cling to their mothers’ skirts. In despair, I call out Miss Alexandra’s name over and over again.