The Titanic Enigma (26 page)

‘I’m so sorry, sir,’ Pitman began, turning to Fortescue. ‘This little ruffian has been causing trouble all over the ship.’

Billy clutched at Fortescue’s elegantly tailored black jacket.

‘You get your filthy hands off the gentleman!’ the maintenance man exclaimed and Pitman went to pull the kid away.

Fortescue raised a hand. ‘Stop,’ he commanded. ‘It’s quite all right.’

Both men froze and Pitman gave Fortescue an odd look. ‘Sir, I don’t think you fully under—’

‘Of course I understand, Mr Pitman, but I can vouch for this young chap.’

The maintenance man pulled back, his arms folded, and Pitman simply stared at Fortescue. ‘Vouch, sir? The little brat shouldn’t be outside the Third Class area. I need to
take this up with the boy’s parents and perhaps even the captain.’

‘There will be no need to trouble yourself, Mr Pitman. By the way, the boy has a name. It is Billy O’Donnell. He is travelling with his uncle and aunt. I invited him to
First to run me a few errands. It is regrettable that he has caused trouble.’ He looked down at the scruffy kid. ‘What do you say, Billy?’

The boy was quick to react. He doffed his cap. ‘I’m most sorry, sir,’ he said to Pitman.

The officer turned to the steward. ‘Smalles . . . bugger off!’ The steward spun on his heel. Pitman simply glared at the maintenance worker. He got the message and
retreated without a word. ‘This is most irregular, sir,’ declared Pitman.

‘The boy has apologized, Pitman,’ Fortescue retorted. ‘I shall not let him out of my sight until I return him to Third. For your part, I would like you to let the
matter drop. Now, does that sound reasonable?’

‘Very well, sir. But, I’m afraid if I see this young man around these parts of the ship at any time between now and our docking in New York, I will have to go through the
company procedures.’

‘Quite so,’ Fortescue said. ‘You hear that, Billy?’

The boy looked at Fortescue then at Pitman and nodded.

‘Good. Now, Mr Pitman, if you will excuse us, I shall take the boy directly to Third.’

‘You’ve no need, sir,’ he said. ‘I can take him there.’

‘I actually have some business with his guardians, Mr Pitman.’

The officer touched his cap and took a step back as Fortescue encouraged Billy to walk on towards the door to the outside.

*

During the past few hours, the weather had changed. It had grown colder thanks to a strong breeze coming down from the icy wastes in the north, and Fortescue pulled
his flimsy jacket close about his chest.

‘I need to tell you something, Mr Wickins,’ Billy said, the sound of his voice tossed around in the air.

‘What’s that, Billy?’ Fortescue asked, crouching as they headed aft at a brisk pace.

‘Need to tell you something.’

‘Not now, young fellow. Too cold. Tell me a bit later . . .’

They reached a flight of stairs down to E-Deck and descended the steps, turned 180 degrees and proceeded along a narrow passage to a doorway. A sign above it said
‘F-Deck’. Through the door they took another flight of stairs, Fortescue leading the way.

‘Which cabin are you in, Billy?’

‘You don’t need to go any further, Mr Wickins. I won’t trouble you again. A promise is a promise.’

Fortescue stopped and turned. He bent down and held Billy’s skinny shoulders. ‘I would like to speak to your uncle and aunt.’

‘But I said I wouldn’t.’

‘Not about that nonsense, Billy,’ he nodded towards the bow. ‘I would like to talk to them about your astonishing ability.’

The boy looked panic-stricken. ‘But you said that would be when we docked.’

‘I think I should bring it up before then.’

‘But they won’t understand, Mr Wickins. They’re not the sort—’

‘Billy please leave the discussion to me. I’ve talked to lots of parents before now.’ And he gave the boy a reassuring smile. Billy did not return it but gazed down
at his shoes.

‘They won’t listen,’ he mumbled.

‘Well, we’ll see about that, won’t we?’

*

The advertisements for the White Star Line boasted the merits of the Third Class accommodation aboard
Titanic
, but even so, the difference between Third and
First was startling.

Billy led the way along a narrow corridor, down a short, dark staircase to one of the lowest decks of the ship. Everything here was smaller, narrower, shrouded in shadow and
illuminated with dull light. The rooms off
these corridors were almost at the waterline and many did not even have the benefit of portholes. There were no liveried staff, no plush carpets.
The walls were painted a rudimentary pale green; the metal floor in the public areas was often left bare or covered with inexpensive and hardwearing carpet.

The boy stopped outside a room marked G10 and tapped quietly. The door opened and they saw a thin, callow-eyed woman, her bony fingers encircling the edge of the door. A musty,
sweaty odour emanated from the room. Fortescue could hear at least four voices all talking at once, the cry of a young child.

‘Billy.’ The woman peered suspiciously at Fortescue.

‘Aunt. This gentleman is Mr Wickins. He’s a teacher.’

‘What’s up, Mary?’ A gruff baritone came from the room. The door opened wide. A short, pugnacious-looking man in a stained black suit stood just inside the
cabin.

‘You weren’t at chapel, me lad,’ he said to Billy and then lifted his black eyes to Fortescue, looking him up and down. And you are?’

Fortescue extended a hand. The man looked at it then back up at his face.

Fortescue straightened his back. ‘You must be Mr Spindle. I’ve just brought Billy here back from First Class.’

The man produced a mocking laugh. ‘The little bastard causing trouble again? Upsetting the toffs?’

‘I was wondering if I might talk to you about Billy.’

Spindle stared at him blankly. ‘Get in,’ he said to his wife and yanked her arm. She disappeared into the room. Spindle half-closed the door.

‘What d’ya want to talk about?’ His eyes narrowed.

Fortescue was not sure where to begin, how to explain that the boy was a genius.

‘May I?’ he indicated the door.

‘No, you
may
not. We ain’t got much room.’ He stepped out into the corridor and nudged the door shut. ‘We can talk
’ere.’

Egbert cleared his throat. ‘Your ward, Billy, has a remarkable gift.’

‘Gift for thievin’,’ the man hissed. ‘Comes in ’andy though, just so long as the little shit don’t get caught.’

‘He’s actually a very talented mathematician, Mr Spindle. I’m a teacher and I think he should be given every chance to develop his
abilities.’

The man looked into Fortescue’s eyes, his face completely expressionless. Then he broke into an unpleasant smile. ‘Mathematics, eh? Well, he must get that from his
aunt.’ He cackled.

Fortescue and Billy looked at him in silence.

‘So what you saying, mister?’ Spindle went on sarcastically. ‘You expecting us to put the lad into a school for the gifted? I imagine it would be a little pricey .
. . I might have to sell off a few shares.’

Fortescue held the man’s gaze. ‘I was going to offer to help. I think Billy has a remarkable talent. It would be a crime to let it go to waste.’

Spindle considered the scientist. ‘Did I ’ear right that you’re a teacher?’

Fortescue nodded.

‘So you could teach ’im.’

‘Up to a point, but I have important business in America. I have to leave New York soon after we dock.’

Spindle nodded slowly and looked Fortescue up and down again. Fortescue sensed something had changed. The man’s expression had turned from sarcasm to an odd blend of disgust
and avarice. ‘So, this “mathematical talent”,’ he said, ‘would be worth paying for, right?’

Fortescue looked confused. ‘I would be happy to pay for Billy to receive special attention,’ he said and glanced at the boy. Billy looked from one man to the
other.

Spindle’s face was rigid, his black eyes held Fortescue’s. ‘Special attention . . . yeah.’ He was nodding slowly again. ‘That comes
expensive.’

‘I’m not sure I’m making myself clear.’

‘Oh, it’s very clear, Mr . . . Wickins was it? We knows all about special attention . . . ain’t stupid.’ And he touched the side of his
nose.

Suddenly Fortescue got it. The man thought he was fabricating a story about Billy’s skills and that he was really interested in the boy for nefarious sexual purposes. He felt a
frisson of revulsion. ‘I don’t know how you have reached the conclusion I think you have reached, my good man . . .’

Spindle gave Fortescue a look of utter contempt. ‘I ain’t your good man, guvnor, and don’t play me for a fool. I know what all you toffs are like. Mathematical
ability, my arse . . .’

Fortescue felt a fury building. He glanced at Billy and then back at Bert Spindle. Trying to keep calm, he said, ‘I assure you, you have it all wrong.’

‘Five quid and you can have the little bleeder.’

‘What?’

‘Five now, five when we get to New York and I’ll keep me silence too.’

Fortescue had a sudden overwhelming urge to strike the man. He took a step forward and saw a glint of metal. Spindle had a flick knife in his left hand. He made a grab for Billy with
his right, but the kid slipped away and darted along the corridor behind Fortescue. Fortescue had his hands half-raised level with his chest. He realized he was suddenly breathing
heavily.

‘I’m afraid there’s been a misunderstanding,’ the scientist began, eyeing the knife.

‘You reckon, do you, Mr Wickins? I don’t think I’ve misunderstood nothing. I think I have the measure of you, mate . . . seen it plenty a times before. Empty your
pockets.’

‘What?’

‘You ’eard me.’

‘But this is preposterous!’

Spindle moved the knife forward six inches. Fortescue reached into his pocket and withdrew a few coins. Spindle grabbed them, pushing his face close up to Fortescue’s.
‘I’ve got your name,’ he said. ‘This ship’s a small place . . . I’d watch out. Touch the boy without paying for ’im and I’ll slice you ear to ear
before you go overboard.’ And he was gone.

Fortescue realized he was shaking He peered down at his trembling hands. Lowering his arms, he took a couple of deep breaths, hardly able to believe what had just happened. He looked
at the door to G10 for a long moment, then turned. There was no sign of Billy O’Donnell. He walked along the corridor and up the steps, seeing no one until he reached the top and the
passageway onto D-Deck.

He heard a sound from behind. ‘Mr Wickins.’

He spun round but there was no one there. Then he saw a hand beckoning him from behind a pillar. He walked over.

‘I’m sorry about that,’ the boy said.

‘It’s not your fault, Billy.’

Along the deck he spotted a pair of middle-aged women testing the air. They ducked back inside.

‘Look, there’s something I was trying to tell you.’

A bit late now, isn’t it, Billy?’

‘It’s not about me uncle and aunt.’

‘Go on.’

‘It’s just . . . well, earlier, I was running away from something, something terrifying.’

‘What do you mean?’

The boy looked down at his scuffed shoes and shrugged his shoulders. ‘You’ll probably think I’m lying’

Fortescue shook his head. ‘I won’t. Tell me.’

‘I was exploring and I got cornered. Had to duck into a storeroom. Then guess what happened? I’m behind some crates and this couple come into the storeroom and start
whispering . . . schemin’.’

‘Billy you’ve lost me.’

‘They was talkin’ about you.’

‘Who were?’

‘That brother and sister pair you’ve been hobnobbing with.’

‘Frieda and Marcus?’