Titanic: April 1912 (6 page)

Chapter Nine

As Karolina handed Davey over to his mother, Gavin stood uneasily, a case in each hand. The slant of the deck made him feel sick with fear. If the ship was listing, it meant that it was taking on more water.

“I'll come up to the boat deck as soon as I can get the children dressed,” Emily was saying. “God bless you for helping.”

Karolina's face was full of concern. “Are you sure you'll be all right?” she asked.

Gavin watched Emily nod. “You go ahead. Don't make Rose wait.”

Gavin led the way toward the third-class entrance, walking as fast as he could. There were more people on the stairs this time, most of them carrying boxes or dragging trunks. It was hard to maneuver through them. Once they were out of the worst of the crowd, Gavin nodded at Karolina. “You were brave to help Emily.”

Karolina's eyes caught his and held. “Are we really going to sink, Gavin? Do you think we are going to die?” She whispered it, glancing back down the stairs.

Gavin shook his head. “There will be rescue ships here soon. Maybe they're here now.”

“I saw them sending up flares,” Karolina said as they rounded the first landing. A family was standing there. Three little children were leaning sleepily against their mother's skirt. The father, a balding man who still looked half-asleep, was talking loudly to his wife.

“I'm telling you, they don't want us up there,” he was saying. “The steward said it's all for the first-class passengers, and that we are to wait here.”

“But we have to go somewhere,” his wife sniffled. Her hair was loose, tumbling down her back. “We're going to die. Oh, dear God, I'm scared.”

Gavin led Karolina around them, trying not to hear any more of the woman's panicked words. He could feel his own fear thundering in every heartbeat. “Listen to your wife, Mister,” he said, turning back. “You have to get up to the boat deck.” The woman looked angrily at her husband, and they began to argue.

The stairs seemed endlessly long this time. The case Gavin carried was heavy. He kept glancing back at Karolina. She was managing to keep up. Gavin looked toward the top of the stairs and shook his head. They seemed steep. Too steep.

Struggling up onto the landing, Gavin stopped, blinking, unable to believe his eyes.

“It's slanting, like you said,” Karolina breathed, close behind him. There was both wonder and terror in her voice. And she was right. The
Titanic
was tipped dangerously forward, her bow lowering under the weight of the water that had poured into it.

Gavin stared into the darkness of the sky for a moment, at the ice-shard stars flickering above his head. Then he let his eyes come back to the little section of deck that served as the third-class prome­nade. It was slanting markedly downward, away from them.

He picked up the case again, looking back toward the door as someone behind them cried out. A knot of confused voices tangled together in the cold air. Astonished, he realized that he could hear the band, still playing quick-rhythmed ragtime.

“Come with me,” he said to Karolina. Her eyes were unfocused. He repeated it, louder. She nodded and lifted her case, gesturing for him to go first. Gavin had to step around groups of people who stood near the foot of the stairs that led up to B-deck, some talking intently, some silent.

He leaned into the incline of the deck, fighting a sense of unreality. It was as strange as if the ground beneath his mother's house had suddenly taken a whim to tilt. Gavin's shoes skidded, and he glanced back at Karolina. She looked pale and stricken, but she was still keeping up.

“This way,” Gavin called to her, starting up the steps. He gripped the handrail, hauling himself upward, his feet sliding forward on the stair treads that now slanted sharply toward the bow of the ship.

Just as they reached the top, a crewman Gavin didn't recognize pulled a gate closed behind them. He locked it, then strode away without looking back. Gavin saw people on the well deck below looking up, their faces marked with panic and anger.

“How can they do that? What about Emily?” Karolina asked.

Gavin could only shake his head. “I don't know, Karolina.”

Tears wet her cheeks, and he could see her fighting to stay calm. “Aunt Rose told me she would wait here,” she said very slowly, clearing her throat when her voice caught. Her face was a mask of dismay, and she kept glancing at the people on the other side of the gate.

Gavin looked around the little corner of B-deck, setting the case down beside a group of passengers who were standing close together. The women all had bright silk parasols in their hands. Their life belts were fastened over thick woolen coats. Gavin looked past them. A flare exploded, then streaked its way back down toward the sea. It winked out as he watched.

“She isn't here,” Karolina was saying.

Gavin faced her. “Are you sure?”

Karolina scowled. “I know what my aunt looks like, Gavin.” Her face changed instantly. “I'm sorry. I just can't stop thinking about Emily. And I'm so scared.”

Gavin nodded. “I am, too.” He glanced toward the boat deck above them. “Your aunt probably just went up there. That's where any steward would tell her to go.”

Karolina nodded at him. Together they made their way toward the second-class stairs. They didn't stop on A-deck but kept going until they emerged into the cold air again. Gavin stared out at the black water on all sides of the ship. His stomach clenched.

At that moment, the deck beneath their feet began to tremble, and Gavin felt it tilt even more toward the bow. He looked aft, his breath catching in his throat—it was as if the stern was going to lift up out of the water. The poop deck was full of ­people. He could see piles of clothing and trunks scattered across it.

Gavin took Karolina's hand, fighting his own panic. “Come on. Let's find your aunt.” Feeling light and strange, hearing the opening strains of a waltz, Gavin forced himself to go toward the lifeboats. Most of them had been lowered and were swinging gently from their davits.

“Where could she be?” Karolina asked as they walked past the first few lifeboats.

He shrugged. “Some of the boats are already gone. Maybe she's in one of them.”

Karolina looked offended, then terrified. “She wouldn't leave me.”

Gavin touched her cheek. “Then we'll find her. We just have to keep looking.” He scanned the boat deck. There were hundreds of well-dressed people standing in groups, stamping their feet against the cold. The women's hands were tucked inside mink and ermine muffs or warmed by kid leather gloves. Here and there, steerage families stood together. Gavin imagined his brothers and sisters, all scared, huddling close for warmth. He thought about the locked gate and shuddered.

“I didn't know there were this many people aboard,” Karolina said quietly, interrupting his thoughts.

Gavin stared at the crowd, then looked back at the remaining lifeboats. He turned, forcing himself to look out to sea. There were no other ships close by. He felt an ache of fear claw its way down his spine.

“Are you all right, Gavin?”

Gavin shook his head, but he didn't answer her. He blinked, looking out at the dark, cold ocean. Where were the rescue ships? There weren't nearly enough lifeboats to hold everyone.

Chapter Ten

Karolina shivered. Her teeth were chattering partly from fear, partly because she was so cold. All around them were crowds of frightened people. Karolina scanned their faces, expecting, hoping, that she would see her aunt. Children were crying, and she could hear someone's lapdog yipping, a high, irritating noise. The band was playing beautiful, precise music now—an odd partner for the hubbub of voices.

For a strange instant, Karolina wondered if anyone was dancing. Normally, it wasn't permitted on Sunday nights on the ship, but surely no one would be bothering anyone who wanted to waltz now.

Gavin nudged her elbow. “Can you see your aunt? What does she look like?”

Karolina shook her head. “She's tall. Her hat has a big silk rose in the band.” She looked back toward the second-class entrance, feeling lost. Why had Aunt Rose moved? She had said she would wait right there. Maybe it had gotten too crowded. Maybe she had come up here to get them a place in a lifeboat.

Karolina scanned the fear-tensed faces. They looked like people out of a dream. Some of the women were still dressed in their formal gowns. Others wore nightclothes. One woman wore a ­purple silk dress—but no shoes or stockings. Many of the others had left their shoes behind in their hurry to get up here. Their stockings were dark with coal dust.

“We should check the port side,” Gavin said. “Half the lifeboats are over there.” He gestured.

Karolina watched him fidget. “Maybe,” she said reluctantly, unable to stop looking toward the second-­class entrance. “I just can't believe she wouldn't wait for me.”

“Karolina? Is that you?”

Karolina turned to see Emily struggling to keep her balance on the slanting deck. Rebecca was straddling her hip. Davey walked stiff-kneed, his hand enclosed in his mother's tight grasp.

Karolina ran toward them. “They locked the gate. How did you get up here?”

“Remember the locked door across from your room? A steward opened it. Twenty or thirty of us came up together.”

Karolina hugged Emily, then stepped back. “I can't find Aunt Rose.”

“It's possible she's already in a lifeboat,” Gavin said quietly, pointing. “Some of the ones farther up have already been lowered.” He squinted. “Maybe all of them.”

Karolina shook her head. “She wouldn't leave me.”

“Are we supposed to just wait?” Emily asked Gavin.

Karolina watched as he looked up and down the boat deck. “That's First Officer Murdoch up there. He would know.”

“I think people are just lining up,” Karolina said.

Ahead of them were clusters of passengers standing in loose groups alongside each lifeboat. Uniformed crew members were shouting, trying to organize the crowds. No one seemed to be panicking, at least not yet. Karolina turned to look once more toward the corner of the deck where Aunt Rose had promised to wait.

“I'm going to see if we can get on now,” Emily said. “You two come with me.”

Gavin shook his head. “I should be helping.”

Karolina met Emily's eyes. “I have to find Aunt Rose first.”

Emily hugged her again. Rebecca made a little squeal of delight to be sandwiched between them. Davey smiled at Karolina when she ruffled his hair.

“We'll all meet again either on the rescue ships or in New York,” Emily said, smiling bravely.

Karolina watched her walk away, making her way through the crowds. When Emily got close enough for a steward to see her, he waved her forward, helping her step over the railing, lifting Davey into the boat for her.

The deck shuddered beneath their feet, and the lifeboat swung back and forth. Karolina saw Davey look up, startled. Emily lurched to one side. Karolina stumbled against Gavin, but managed to keep her balance by catching hold of his arm. As she straightened, she saw the look of wide-eyed fear on his face. She followed his gaze and, in spite of the bitter cold, she felt a clammy sweat on the back of her neck—the stern of the ship had risen in the water. “Why is that happening, Gavin?”

He shook his head. “Maybe the bow is filling up with water. You should get into that lifeboat. Now.” He pushed her forward, but she struggled with him, a strange mix of anger and fear rising inside her.

“I have to find Aunt Rose, Gavin. I lost my parents; I can't lose her, too.” She began to cry. The whole world had collapsed, everything that she was supposed to be able to count on had disappeared. She bit at her lip and tried to stop the tears, but it was impossible.

“Karolina! Come on, get in!”

Emily was gesturing wildly, and Karolina felt Gavin urging her toward the lifeboat. One of the crewmen was reaching out to help her. Blinking back tears, she twisted wildly and ran away from them all, clumsy and faltering on the tilting deck.

• • •

Gavin watched Karolina run away, unable to react for a moment.

“We can't wait for her,” one of the crewmen shouted.

Gavin turned to see him pushing Emily back down onto her bench. Emily was arguing with him, pointing in the direction Karolina had run.

“I'll make sure she gets on a boat,” Gavin called out.

Emily leaned forward. “Promise me. On your mother's soul.”

Gavin nodded. “I will. I'll make sure.”

Emily sat down and smiled at him gratefully. “Thank you, young man. God bless you.”

The hoists were raising the lifeboat now, and Emily swayed with the motion, clutching her children as the boat swung out over the black water far below. Davey had buried his face in his mother's side. The boat was swinging back and forth on its ropes. Gavin could imagine the fear the little boy felt at hanging so precariously over the water.

Gavin shivered and rubbed his hands together, then made his way back through the people who stood transfixed, watching as the boat was lowered. He excused himself, moving through the middle of what looked like one big family. They all had dark, curly hair and wide blue eyes. One woman held a crying baby. An older man stood behind her, his hands on her shoulders. Quickly, Gavin glanced away, longing for his own family.

He squared his shoulders and started toward the bow. It was hard to walk. The deck was slanting forward, making every step awkward. He scanned the faces he passed, but Karolina was not among them. Nor was Harry. People standing in the darkness of the open deck were much harder to see. The bright lights mounted along the edge of the structures that surrounded the towering funnels and the main entrances illuminated hundreds of faces. None of them was familiar. None of them had a hat with a big silk rose. Every one of them was pale and frightened.

Men were talking in overloud voices. Women cried or laughed, their voices as sharp as glass in the cold air. The band, he realized suddenly, was still playing. This piece was a minor key waltz, slower and more somber than the music that had come before. If the musicians were afraid, they somehow kept it from tainting the beauty of their music.

Gavin hurried. He wove in and out of the crowd, scanning the faces he passed. Finally, he gave up and ducked into the gymnasium, using the same door Lionel had shown them. Once inside, he crossed the crowded landing at the top of the Grand Staircase and came back out onto the deck on the port side.

The band was playing here. A crowd of people had gathered around them, and it took Gavin a few minutes to work his way past. Almost immediately, he spotted Karolina. She was approaching first one group, then another, peering into women's faces as she went.

“Karolina!” Gavin shouted.

She seemed not to hear him. The babble of the crowd was getting louder and louder. Walking toward the stern again, the deck was an incline. Gavin's feet were getting numb. His wet shoes were clammy, and he wished for the dry shoes and socks he had thrown away. His cabin was probably flooded by now. The image of his trunk and his berth immersed in the cold saltwater made him shiver. He looked out into the darkness beyond the ship. There was nothing to protect him from the icy black ocean now.

“Karolina!” he shouted again. This time, she turned and saw him. He stepped around a fur-coated woman who glared at him when he bumped into her arm. “Watch yourself, son,” her husband snapped. Then he put his arms around his wife and held her close.

“Gavin? Gavin, did you find my aunt?”

Her face was so full of hope, he hated to answer. “No, Karolina,” he said reluctantly.

Suddenly she started shivering, her eyes hollow and scared. “I don't know where she could be. What if she tried to go back down after me?” Her voice broke, and he knew she was fighting tears again.

Gavin shook his head, stamping his feet. “She wouldn't have done that. You said the stairs were too hard for her.” He looked toward the port side lifeboats. “The crew is loading women and children first. I'm sure someone already convinced your aunt to get on one of the lifeboats. She's probably fine and worrying about you.”

“I don't know. . . .” Karolina's voice was tight with indecision.

“You need to get on a lifeboat. I can only see two left on this side, and for all we know, the starboard-­side boats are already gone. This could be your only chance.”

“How much time do you think we have, Gavin?”

Gavin shook his head. “I don't know.”

He had barely finished speaking when he felt the deck shift again. The incline steepened once more. Karolina cried out, and he steadied her, forcing her forward, pulling her up the sloping deck. Ahead of them, a woman screamed—the sound cut off abruptly. Gavin couldn't see what had happened, but lifeboat number two was now swinging from its davits.

“Oh, God,” Karolina whispered.

Gavin grasped her elbow and guided her around a group of men dressed in dark suits. They were grim, silent, standing almost shoulder to shoulder, staring out to sea. Gavin looked back at the lifeboat and suddenly understood. There were no men aboard except the crew. Women sat on the benches, some weeping, some blank-faced. Some of them held small children on their laps.

“We have more seats!” a crew member shouted into the crowd.

“Here!” Gavin called back. He gestured at Karolina and saw the man nod.

“What if Aunt Rose is—” Karolina began.

“She would want you to save yourself,” Gavin interrupted, hurrying her through the last ragged line of couples who stood looking on. Some of the women were sobbing openly. None of them seemed eager to step forward and get on the lifeboat.

Gavin understood why. They did not want to leave their husbands. Besides, it was hard to believe that the wide, solid deck of the
Titanic
was less safe than a flimsy wooden lifeboat. If Lionel hadn't told him the truth, if he hadn't seen the water pouring in with his own eyes, Gavin wasn't sure he would believe it, either. He glanced over the side and forced himself to look at the black water.

“How long before the distress signals are answered?” a man shouted out.

The officer in the bow of the lifeboat raised his head. “I have no way to know, sir. It ought to be any time now. These shipping lanes are busy this time of year.”

“It's better to stay onboard,” a man near Gavin said loudly. He took his wife's arm, and they moved back. Gavin pulled Karolina forward.

“Gavin?”

He looked up to see Lionel staggering under a load of life preservers.

“Give me a hand with these, will you? Make sure anyone you see has one on. Some of the men are refusing to take them. Argue with them if you can.” Lionel nodded at Karolina, then slid the stack of life preservers down his arm.

Gavin caught half a dozen of them, and Lionel clapped him on the shoulder as he straightened. “Thanks, Gavin. With any luck, we'll all be telling this story the rest of our lives.” He grinned, then paced away.

“Right this way, young lady,” the crewman was shouting at Karolina. “Hurry now, please. And the woman back there? Yes, you,” he shouted over Gavin's head. Gavin glanced back to see a young couple kissing farewell.

“Step up now, we're about to lower the boat,” the crewman snapped. “This is a cutter, folks; it won't hold as many as the big boats.”

Karolina hesitated, and Gavin hitched the life preservers higher. They were awkward and heavy. “Karolina, you have to get on now. Take one of these.”

She took the life belt, but didn't put it on. “I can't just go without—”

“Yes, you can,” Gavin said. “You must.”

Karolina frowned. “
I
must? What about you?”

“Come on, Miss,” the crewman said. “Get on now, or you will be left behind.”

Gavin watched Karolina lift her chin and peer into the boat. “Gavin, you have to come, too. There are crewmen on every boat we've seen and—”

“Let us pass, please,” a voice demanded from behind them.

Karolina stepped aside. Gavin made way for a big man who escorted two young women to the boat rail. They sobbed as they got in, and the man stood a few seconds, holding their hands across the little gap that separated the lifeboat from the deck. Then he spun around and walked away without looking back. The two young women sank onto the boat benches, watching him go.

Karolina faced Gavin. “You can come with me. The boat isn't nearly full. They'll let you on.”

Gavin pulled in a deep breath. “Almost none of the men are going, Karolina. I have to stay. I'll look around for your aunt and I'll make sure she gets a life belt. If help comes, we'll all be fine. And it probably will. You heard Lionel.”

Gavin pushed her forward. If he argued with her much longer, he was afraid his cowardice would win out over his courage. “Karolina?” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the photograph of his family. “My brother's name is Conor Reilly, and he lives in New York City. He's a cabinetmaker. Find him, will you? And give him this. Tell him I love him. Tell him to write our mother.”

He extended the photograph, and Karolina took it, her hand shaking. She tucked it inside her bodice. Then, before he could move away, she put her arms around his neck and hugged him,