Heart of Disaster: A Titanic Novel of love and loss Page 8

  Cathy retaliated by sticking her tongue out at his retreating back. “Maybe he should have become a priest after all.”

  Kate had seen Mary say something to Seamus early on in the evening and judging by the expression on his face, assumed he had been hurt. She didn’t enlighten Cathy, though, as it was none of her business. Then she spotted Daniel coming toward them. He had two drinks in his hands.

  “Fine evening, isn’t it, girls?” Daniel handed a drink to Kate. “I hear you’ve struck up a friendship with one of the Swedish men, Cathy.”

  “I wouldn’t say that, Daniel Donnelly. We just had a few dances that’s all. I didn’t agree to marry him.”

  “Keep your hair on. What’s got into you?” He looked bemused by her reaction to his teasing.

  “Sorry. I had a fight with Seamus and he got to me.”

  “Where is he?”

  “He’s gone to bed. I think I will follow his example.” Kate rose, leaving the drink on the table.

  “Why are you going?” Cathy asked.

  “I’m frozen. It’s much colder than it was earlier. I’m off to bed.”

  “Aw, Kate, you can’t go to bed yet. ‘Tis early yet and we have hours more dancing ahead of us.” Daniel tried to change her mind.

  Someone came back in from the deck commenting, it was a beautiful cloudless night, the stars were shining and their reflection on the calm sea was mesmerizing. The woman suggested Kate should go and check for herself. But Kate declined. Too cold to think straight, she also declined Daniel’s offer to walk her to her cabin. She needed to be alone for a while.

  She made her way to her cabin hoping she would warm up once she was under the covers. Thankfully, Eileen and Mary were fast asleep, so she didn’t have to make conversation. She dressed quickly for bed and pulled the covers over her head. Soon she fell asleep.

  Chapter 25

  Delia’s foot tapped away in time to the music. There were many different musicians from all nationalities traveling in Third Class. Although they couldn’t understand each other’s language, they communicated through music. The band was comprised of English, Irish and Swedish musicians. One Irish guy had a fiddle and seemed to play faster and faster as the night progressed. The man took yet another swig of his drink.

  “Must be the beer loosening up his fingers,” Conor said

  Delia didn’t know how the man was still standing never mind playing. He never seemed to be without his pint glass.

  The atmosphere was so happy with different couples dancing jigs on the table tops. It had started a little like at home with men on one side of the room and women on the other but with drink flowing and the energy of the music, most were now up dancing.

  Delia yawned for about the tenth time in a matter of seconds. Conor glanced at her.

  “Are you ready to go to bed?”

  She didn’t want to spoil his fun. “I’ll go and you can stay here.”

  “Not on your life. Where you go, I go.” He finished his drink “Lead on, lovely wife.”

  He gave her waist a quick pinch. She blushed as she always did when he touched her in public but, secretly, she was thrilled she had this effect on him.

  Daniel glanced up at them. “You’re not leaving, are ye? Kate’s gone to bed already but sure the party is just starting.”

  “Thanks, Daniel, but the missus is tired, see you in the morning.”

  “Codladh sámh,” Daniel said. “I guess I should head to bed soon too.”

  Delia held her husband’s arm. “They will make a lovely couple, won’t they?”

  “Who?”

  “Daniel and Kate. They are made for one another.”

  Conor took her hand as the passageway narrowed. “I thought she was going to New York and he was going somewhere else.”

  “That was the plan when they got on the ship. They are from the same place in Galway. I don’t think Kate saw Daniel as anything other than a friend until they got on this boat.”

  “Ship, darling!” Conor teased her gently. “I don’t think the captain would like you calling this vessel a boat.”

  They reached their cabin. “I can see the papers now. They will call it the Titanic romance.”

  Delia tapped him on the arm. “You aren’t interested at all in what I am saying, are you?”

  Conor closed the door before he gathered her into his arms.

  “I am very interested in you, my darling wife, but not so much in your friends. Kate and Daniel can sort themselves out. Now, I want to kiss my wife.”

  Delia gave herself willingly to his embrace.

  Chapter 26

  11.40pm Sunday 14, Titanic Boiler Room Five

  T he telegraph bell rang. Gerry glanced up. A red warning light flashed. Stop!

  “Shut all dampners.” Barret shouted.

  Almost immediately, the crew heard a horrendous crash. Gerry couldn’t believe his eyes. Water poured from a gash, two feet above the stokehold plate on the starboard side.

  “Get out of here, lads” Barrett yelled.

  Gerry dove after the rest of his group, barely ahead of the closing watertight doors as they slammed shut behind them.

  Boiler room six was dry. George Cavell, a trimmer, greeted Gerry. “What on earth was that? Had to dig myself from under a mound of coal.”

  Another crewmate stared at an overturned bowl. “What a waste of good soup.”

  Gerry didn’t reply. Soup was the last thing on his mind.

  “Davy, you okay?”

  “Yeah. What the heck happened?”

  Gerry didn’t know.

  “Maybe the rudder fell off?” someone said. “We’ll have to go back to Belfast to get that fixed. Should take a while. Nice bit of a break for us, eh, lads?”

  Gerry shook his head in warning. Second Engineer Hasketh moved toward them. “All hands stand by your stations.”

  Gerry couldn’t believe his ears. The man was ordering them back into boiler room five. Was he mad?

  Barrett moved to Gerry’s side “Gerry, after me.”

  Gerry followed Barrett and Second Engineer, Johnathan Shepherd up the escape ladder in number six. They would use it to climb into number five.

  When they got to the top, they could go no further.

  White faced, Barrett turned to Shepherd. “That’s almost six foot in less than ten minutes.”

  They got out of there quick, clambering back down the ladder into boiler room six. To Gerry’s disbelief, the floor of the boiler room remained dry.

  How could there be eight foot of water in the next boiler room yet in here be dry? His eyes caught those of his chief, the expression on the senior man’s face reflecting Gerry’s own concerns.

  “Shut the dampers, that’s it, lads, shut the doors. Shut the dampers,” Barrett shouted. Gerry worked just as hard as the others, praying intently as he did so.

  “Draw the boilers,” Barrett continued to shout. “Put your backs into it. Gerry, take over. I need to check the coal bunker.”

  “Dear Lord, don’t let them explode.” The man to the right of Gerry crossed himself.

  Gerry could barely see through the combination of sweat running into his eyes and the steam created by the heat but he kept going. Who knew what these new boilers would do? They hadn’t been prepared for an incident like this.

  Barrett soon appeared. Gerry heard his report to Hesketh.

  “Water’s pouring into starboard side coal bunker. But pumps seem to be holding it at bay.”

  Hesketh nodded, his expression grave. He glanced toward Gerry but he didn’t meet his eyes.

  The pressure in the ship’s boilers started to rise. Barrett kept looking at the levels.

  “The automatic safety valves will kick in. Any minute, now.”

  Gerry didn’t know who Barrett was trying to convince. Himself or the crew.

  “There they go,” Barrett shouted. As if anyone was in any doubt. The steam flooded the boiler room. Sweat flowed down Gerry’s face and back. The excess steam flew up the st
eam escape pipes on the forward aft ends of the funnels. The noise was tremendous.

  Gerry tried to feel grateful. Maybe the men around him were right in saying all would soon be back to normal but something in his gut said otherwise. He tried to subdue those feelings and concentrated on the job in hand. Word spread that the men from the next shift were dragging their beds clear of waterlogged cabins, this made most people laugh but did nothing for the twist in Gerry’s gut.

  A few minutes later, leading fireman Barrett spoke. “I’m going to find Chief Bell. We’ll have to inspect the damage. I’ll be back. Keep at it, lads.”

  While Barrett was away, the speculation around Gerry intensified. The stoker working to his right, mopped his brow.

  “What do you think happened, Gerry? What did we hit?”

  Gerry shrugged.

  The man jerked his head toward boiler room five, “Was the water really eight foot deep in there?”

  That had been fifteen minutes previously. Gerry didn’t want to think about how deep it could be now.

  “Remember what Chief Bell said. Some compartments can flood. We’ll still stay afloat.” Gerry was surprised he sounded so confident when his stomach was churning. The water was rising. Would the bulkheads hold?

  He picked up his shovel and kept working. Time ticked by and still no sign of Barrett. He glanced at the clock. It was almost five to one in the morning. He should be off shift by now.

  Barrett arrived back followed by Harvey and Shepherd.

  “All stokers up on deck. Captain's orders.”

  The men stared at one another, before looking as one at Barrett.

  “You heard me. The captain ordered the lifeboats swung out. Women and children only at this time. Off you go, lads.”

  The crewmembers left.

  Gerry approached Barrett. He didn’t want to be overheard questioning an order. “Are you going up top?”

  Barrett shook his head. “I’ll stay where we are. The engineers need help. They want to keep the lights going in the hopes another ship will find us.”

  A few stayed behind to help Harvey and Shepherd, the ship’s engineers with the pumps. Gerry was torn between going up top and staying with Barrett, who inspired him so much. He chose the latter.

  Harvey ordered the men to lift up an iron manhole cover so he could get inside to make some adjustments. More steam turned the boiler room into a Turkish bath, making the working figures look like ghosts. It was difficult to see. In his haste to check something, Shepherd fell into the manhole. His blood-curdling screams filled the air.

  Harvey jumped to examine his colleague. “His leg’s broken. Carry him over to the pump room and let him rest.”

  Gerry and another man carried the injured Shepherd and placed him on the floor. They couldn’t give him anything for the pain, but Gerry’s friend gave him a tot of whiskey. They put a coat under Shepherd’s head by way of a pillow.

  “Thanks, lads,” Shepherd’s voice shook with pain.

  Gerry’s crewmate gave him more whiskey before taking a gulp himself. He offered Gerry some but he declined.

  “Don’t say a word. The chief would throw me overboard,”

  The injured man thanked them again, his pain evident on his white face. They didn’t want to leave him but Barrett and Harvey may need them.

  “Now what do we do?” Gerry asked.

  “Pray!” was the response from the man with the whiskey. They made their way back to where Barrett and Harvey were in deep discussion. Gerry kept his eyes on Barrett who was watching the instruments in front of him.

  With a sudden roar, the sea came thundering through the compartment, the bulkhead collapsing. Harvey ordered the men to the escape ladder while he headed toward the pump room presumably in search of Shepherd. When Gerry looked back, Harvey had disappeared under the water. He took a step back down on the ladder, but Barrett pushed him forward. When they had climbed to the top, Barrett squeezed Gerry’s shoulder.

  “Lad, you’ve done your duty. I am proud to have served with you. Now go on, try to save yourself. It’s every man for himself.”

  Chapter 27

  Delia woke with a start. A strange noise had jolted her out of sleep. But what was it? A metallic scraping, not unlike someone tearing off the side of a tin can. Only louder. She strained her ears. There was no noise except Conor’s gentle snoring. Had her imagination played tricks on her? Impossible to return to sleep, she slipped out of bed.

  They had a two-bunk cabin but despite the cramped quarters they preferred to share the same bunk. She made her way quietly to the door and opened it. The corridor was empty. Closing it again, she wondered what it was that was different. She looked out the porthole but couldn’t see anything. Then she knew. She couldn’t hear any noise. There was no vibration.

  She sat on the bed. Conor woke.

  “What?”

  “The ship has stopped. At least the engines have gone silent.” Delia picked at the cover on the bed, her stomach clenching as she tried to fight her fears. “Conor, something must be wrong. A ship doesn’t stop in the middle of the ocean.”

  Conor opened one eye. “What? You’re imagining it. Come back to bed.”

  “Conor, I’m serious. Can we get dressed and check?”

  Her words fell on deaf ears. He had fallen back to sleep. Her husband could sleep like the dead when he wanted to.

  Grumbling to herself, Delia threw her coat on and went up on deck. The noise coming from the funnels was horrific. She saw a steward.

  “What’s happening?”

  “Nothing to be alarmed about, miss. That’s just the engineers letting off a bit of steam.”

  He moved away. She joined a group of women but before she could ask anything, another steward came along.

  “Back to your beds. All of you. Nothing to see here. You’ll catch your death.”

  Delia was about to protest but changed her mind. The others were returning to their cabins. As she walked back down the passageway, she spotted a steward coming toward her, his face a mask of concern until he saw her. He smiled as usual in greeting as if it was an everyday occurrence to meet her in the corridor at night.

  “What’s happening?” she asked.

  “Not sure, miss, but doubt it’s anything to worry about. Why don’t you go back to bed?”

  Biting her cheek, she tried to stop herself from arguing with him. He must have sensed her doubt.

  “Miss, go back to bed. You’ll get me in trouble. Captain doesn’t like people wandering about at will.” The steward walked away. Delia watched him leave before she opened her cabin.

  Conor was still fast asleep, even the racket from the funnels couldn’t wake her husband. Glancing at her watch, she saw it was a quarter after midnight.

  She lay on the pillow and closed her eyes. Sleep eluded her.

  “This is pointless. I won’t sleep until the engines start again,” she swung her feet out of the bed and squealed.

  Conor shot up.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Water.”

  “What?”

  “Conor, there’s water on the floor.”

  “You must have spilled your drink. Go back to sleep, Delia.”

  She was about to argue when she heard a commotion outside. She opened the door to check. A woman shouted to her, “They’ve told us to get out. We’ve got to go up top.”

  Delia couldn’t believe her ears. The empty corridor from a few minutes ago was now jammed with people.

  She rushed to Conor’s side and shook him.

  “Conor, do you hear that? They are calling people to the lifeboats.” She tried to control her tone but her voice shook. “There’s water on the floor. They are sending us up top. Get dressed in your warmest clothes, please.” Her voice gave way. She pulled at him. “Conor, I’m scared.”

  “Delia, you have nothing to be afraid of. This is the unsinkable Titanic.”

  “But the water?”

  “It’s probably a burst pipe or someth
ing. Come on, back to bed with you.”

  He pulled her toward him. She pushed back. Anger and fear fought for dominance.

  “Can you hear yourself. They called us to the lifeboats.”

  Chapter 28

  Conor and Delia made their way to the Third Class area where hours before there had been lots of people singing and dancing. Some continued but in place of smiles, many looked worried. Some of the men said the water in their cabins had reached the height of the lower bunks.

  She spotted a couple of foreigners arrive, all wearing lifebelts and carrying bundles. A man she didn’t know walked over to the new arrivals.

  “Would you look at the state of ye? Where do you think you’re going?”

  The men wearing lifebelts didn’t speak English. They muttered and gesticulated but nobody had any idea what they were trying to say.

  “Delia, their clothes are wet,” Conor said.

  She stared closer. He was right. She caught herself looking at the women with children, seeing the fear on their faces made her stomach roil even more. She wanted to believe everything would be fine but her aunt’s curse kept playing through her mind.

  “What’s going on? Did someone ask the steward?” Conor asked.

  “No stewards to be found.” The stranger who answered just shrugged his shoulders and picked up his drink.

  “I’ll go up on deck to find out what’s happening. You stay here where it's warm,” Conor said.

  She nearly fainted at the thought of him leaving her behind, even if he was trying to protect her.

  “Not on your life. Where you go, I go, remember,” Delia wasn’t going to risk being separated from Conor.

  They walked up toward the deck, but the gates were closed. A steward told them to return below. He insisted everything was fine.

  “Why are they keeping us down here if everything is all right?” Delia asked Conor.

  “I don’t know darling, but it’s bound to be nothing. This is the Titanic . She is the biggest ship afloat, unsinkable they call her.”