Catherine chanced a half-smile in the general direction of the two women, the excitement in the room impossible to ignore.
‘
Isn’t that terrific news,’ Emily enthused, almost acknowledging Catherine’s presence, ‘and how wonderful to have dined with Captain Smith himself! I believe he is to retire after his arrival in New York. Twenty-six years at sea – no wonder he is ready to retire after all that rocking from side-to-side. It’s a wonder the man can walk in straight line at all!’ The two sisters laughed heartily at Emily’s joke. ‘I presume the dinner was in honour of the many years’ service he has given to the White Star Line,’ she continued. ‘I suspect it nearly killed that dreadful Bruce Ismay to bestow such an honour upon him.’
The sisters set to gossiping then about the many millionaires and influential businessmen travelling on Titanic, the most interesting topic of conversation seeming to be about Mr Astor and the scandal of his recent divorce and the disgrace of his hasty marriage to a young girl, only nineteen-years of age. ‘And him nearly fifty years old. Goodness me, he’s old enough to be her father.’
Catherine busied herself, not interested in their idle gossip, her mind racing at the prospect of her sister arriving tomorrow - a whole day earlier than expected.
As she finished for the day, she plucked up the courage to speak to Mrs Walker-Brown about her hours of work the following day. ‘I was wondering whether it might be acceptable for me to start work an hour earlier tomorrow so as I can leave a little earlier than usual,’ she explained as demurely and politely as possible. ‘I couldn’t help hearing you mention earlier that Titanic is expected to arrive a day early – and I would love to be at the terminal when my sister arrives.’
Distracted by her own excitement at the prospect of Vivienne and Robert’s arrival and the setting of a date for their wedding, Emily Walker-Brown gave her consent. ‘Oh, yes. Of course. I do keep forgetting that you have someone on the ship also! With all Vivienne’s talk of the grandeur of the First Class accommodations, it’s easy to forget that there are others travelling in the lower portions of the ship. That will suit me anyway as I will be asking the chauffeur to drive me to the docks so I can welcome Vivienne and Robert off the ship myself. They say that there will be quite some party to welcome Titanic – I shouldn’t wonder that half of New York will turn out for a look at her!’
Catherine left then to make her way home. It was later than usual, having stayed on a while longer to attend to a few extra chores and make sure that her employer had absolutely no reason to keep her late the following day, as she was apt to do whenever she had visitors arriving.
Idly gazing out of the El train window from her usual seat, she noticed a large number of people gathered outside the White Star Offices on Broadway. It wasn’t her usual stop, but she alighted, drawn by the scenes of the crowds gathered there and wanting to confirm the expected arrival time of Titanic for herself.
Walking towards the mass of people gathered on the sidewalk, she sensed a strange air of tension and confusion. Men and women rushed up and down the stone steps at the front of the offices with a profound sense of urgency. Passers-by turned their heads to observe the commotion as they strolled by, some stopping those already converged outside the building to enquire as to what was happening. Police officers on foot and mounted on horseback moved among the crowds which spilled off the sidewalk into the road, trying to restore a sense of calm and order to the melee. Motorcars and horse-drawn carts stopped in the middle of the road as the occupants conversed with the officers or with the uniformed White Star Line officials who had braved the crowds to pass among them and relay information.
Catherine’s gaze fell on a group of women, dressed in the finest clothing and wearing the most impressive headwear. They stood alongside humble, conservatively attired domestics like herself, who, in turn, stood next to smartly dressed gentlemen in bowler hats and ties, themselves standing alongside dock workers with the grime of a days’ hard labour still evident across their hands, faces and clothing. All of society, it seemed, were gathered there at that moment; all divisions of rank and social class forgotten.
Moving into the throng, Catherine overheard fragments of conversation.
‘
An iceberg apparently. She’s limping back to Belfast.’
‘
Well, I heard she sank like a stone. They didn’t stand a chance.’
‘
My cousin works for the White Star Line and he reliably informs me that Captain Smith personally ensured that all the women and children were safely removed in the lifeboats before any men were permitted to board, himself included.’
Over the shoulder of a man in front of her, she saw a newspaper which bore the headline
All Titanic Passengers Are Safe; Transferred in Lifeboats at Sea.
Bewildered and with a rising sense of panic, Catherine continued to move through the crowd, towards the front of the office building. It was then that she saw the newspaper stand, bearing the day’s New York Times headline in wide, black, over-sized typeface as always. Usually she would pay little attention to the words, having no real interest in the latest political scandal or news from Wall Street. The headline today was the most shocking she had ever seen, or would ever see again.
NEW LINER TITANIC HITS AN ICEBERG; SINKING BY THE BOW AT MIDNIGHT; WOMEN PUT OFF IN LIFE BOATS; LAST WIRELESS AT 12:27 A.M. BLURRED.
She simply couldn’t comprehend it, looking frantically around the crowd, not entirely sure what she was looking for. Seeing a smartly dressed gentleman standing to her right, she approached him. ‘Excuse me Sir, is it true? Do you know what has happened?’
He turned to her, a look of gravity and shock on his face. ‘I’m very sorry Miss. I don’t know. I really don’t know. They say she hit an iceberg in the night. Some are saying she’s gone down. Some say she’s returning to Belfast for repairs. We’re waiting for an official from the office to come and tell us the facts.’
‘
Gone down?!’ Catherine gasped, her head spinning, her knees feeling as though they would buckle under her at any moment. ‘But everyone’s alright? Aren’t they? My sister is travelling on Titanic.’ Catherine was now desperate to get some sort of confirmation about what had happened to the passengers. ‘The passengers were all rescued weren’t they?’
‘
So it seems,’ the gentleman replied. ‘We need to await further news. My wife and young daughter are aboard. I am praying for good news myself.’
At the foot of the stone steps, a woman sat with a young child on her lap and an infant in her arms. Tears streamed down her face, the words of desperate prayer tumbling from her lips. She gazed up and caught Catherine’s eye. ‘It’s gone,’ she wailed. ‘They’re all gone. My husband and my brother, gone Miss. What will I do? Whatever will I do? How will I survive with them gone?’
Unsure of what to say to comfort her, Catherine moved forward and bent down to the woman. Placing her hand on her shoulder she simply said, ‘Courage and faith. We must all try and find courage and faith.’
Unable to process what she was seeing and hearing, Catherine turned then to the other people gathered around nearest to her; women and men, all talking frantically – to each other and to anyone who looked to be in any official capacity at all - trying desperately to get some reassurance that the passengers were alright. It was simply incomprehensible to imagine that anything had happened to the ship at all, let alone that it was sunk. She couldn’t even begin to image what must have happened, or how terrifying the experience must have been. Her poor sister – her poor little sister. She tried to take some small comfort from the fact that at least she had some of the more mature women with her, like Kathleen Murphy and Maura Brennan. They were strong, confident women and at least they would mind Katie and tell her what to do.
Without much thought and barely able to stay upright with the sense of shock coursing through her body, Catherine resolved to stay with the crowds outside the offices and wait for further news. She settled herself on the stone step next to the young woman and her child and infant, pulled her coat around her and bent her head in silent prayer. The sun began to set behind the towering office blocks and a dark shadow fell across them all.
It was nearly midnight when the first wires started to come through, confirming everyone’s worst fears.
From the Marconi radio station on top of the nearby department store, messages were picked up from the steamship Carpathia which confirmed that Titanic had gone down and that there had been a significant loss of life. Survivors were aboard the Carpathia which was expected to arrive in New York on Thursday night. The survivor names were being transmitted from the Carpathia and displayed in the window of the White Star Line offices.
As news of the scale of the disaster became known, an eerie silence fell across the now huge mass of distressed and anxious relatives and friends amassed on the street and the road outside the White Star Line offices, all the way across to Wanamaker’s Department Store. As people filed into the office, praying that the name of their loved ones would be among those listed as having survived, the first tears started to fall. Catherine watched as men and women emerged from the revolving doors, ashen-faced and weeping, falling into the arms of others as they relayed the terrible news that the name they had been hoping to see was not there.
‘
Will you go and look for me Miss?’ Catherine turned to the young woman who was still sat beside her. ‘I can’t bear to go and look. Will you please check the list for me? The names are Samuel Morris, my husband and Jack Philips, my brother. He works for the Marconi Company on the radios.’
She bounced the baby up and down in her arms, trying to sooth its crying.
‘
Yes, of course,’ Catherine replied, although she could barely stand the thought of scanning the list for Katie’s name, let alone anyone else’s. ‘Yes, I’ll look for you.’
She stood then and moved up the steps, patiently waiting her turn to start scanning the list.
For nearly thirty minutes she stood there, reading each name carefully, meticulously, before moving onto the next. When she had read the entire list once, she read it again, a terrible sense of nausea and breathlessness rising in her throat as those around her gasped with delight and relief at seeing a name they knew, or falling to their knees in grief when they did not.
She recognised only two names on the list: Maggie Murphy and Vivienne Walker-Brown. She knew the Murphy girl well and was encouraged to learn that she was safe. She barely thought about the relief her employer would feel when she learnt that her daughter was safe. She scanned the list again and again, desperately reading the ‘Kenny’ names. There were several: Arthur, Eileen, Elizabeth and others, but the name Katie was not among them, neither were any of the other names she might have recognised from the Ballysheen group. And neither were the names Samuel Morris or Jack Philips.
She returned to the stone steps and sat down. The young woman looked up into her eyes, her two children nestled inside her coat, sleeping and unaware of the different path their lives were about to take. Catherine looked at the woman. She shook her head. ‘No,’ she whispered as her own tears began to fall. ‘No.’
Ireland, Tuesday, 16
th
April, 1912
Thomas Durcan stood in the middle of the unremarkable office he owned on the main street of Castlebar, unable to believe his eyes as he read the message informing him that Titanic had foundered in the Atlantic with great loss of life.
Rumours had been rife among the people in the town since late in the evening of the previous day and all through this day.
‘
Is it true Mr Durcan, about the Titanic?’ people asked, stopping him in the street. ‘But they said she was unsinkable. They must have their facts wrong.’
He barely knew what to believe himself. ‘Ah yes, probably limping back to Belfast as we speak for some swift repairs!’ he replied. He was no more convinced by these remarks than the people who he made them to.
Feeling a distinct sense of responsibility for the dozen or so passengers he had booked onto the ship personally, he set about receiving confirmation for himself. He recalled the young girl with her aunt, Kathleen Murphy of Ballysheen, and how they’d exchanged a joke about the tonnes of eggs there would be aboard the ship. It simply didn’t bear to think that any harm had befallen those poor people who were just trying to better their lot in life.
He wired the head office of the White Star Line in Liverpool, England and anxiously awaited a response. Eventually, it came through.
‘
Liverpool. 4.30 p.m. Tuesday. Referring to your telegram re. Titanic, deeply regret to say that latest word received is steamer foundered; about 675 souls, mostly women and children saved.’
Thomas Durcan knew, better than most, that the Titanic was capable of carrying over two thousand passengers. Such a loss of life was unimaginable. He simply sank to his knees and allowed the tears to fall freely.
CHAPTER
28 - Atlantic Ocean, 15
th
April, 1912
Taking hold of one of the long oars, Harry pulled against the might of the ocean with all his strength. He knew enough about boats to know that if Titanic went down, she would create a massive whirlpool which would suck anything close enough down with it and had understood fully what the Officer had meant when he’d told him to row away from the gigantic ship.