Titanic (3 page)

Maybe he
was
a coward. He had ducked a fight, he had backed down in front of the other lads when he should have given George the pasting he deserved.

Of course there had been a good reason – he really didn't want to lose this job. But then perhaps he'd only gone for it in the first place because he was too much of a coward to work in the shipyard.

Billy had been taught at Sunday School that the dead looked down from Heaven on the living. He only hoped Da was keeping more of an eye on Ma and the girls than he was on him.

The Titanic passed its sea trials and the day came when the great ship was due to set sail for Southampton. There it would be handed over officially to the White Star Line and the first passengers would come aboard for the maiden voyage.

The shipyard was decorated with banners and bunting, and a great crowd had gathered in the early April sunshine to see the Titanic off. A brass band on the quayside oom-pah-pahed and made everybody smile.

‘Now are you sure you've got everything, Billy?' said Ma. They were on the quayside at the bottom of the crew's gangway into the ship. Ma had put on her best hat for the occasion and the girls were in their best Sunday dresses.

‘I'm sure, Ma.' The string of his bulging kitbag cut into his shoulder. Ma had helped him pack, and had made him put in almost all he possessed.

‘Well, see you in a few months,' she said. ‘Take care of yourself.'

‘I will, Ma.' Billy kissed her and his sisters, and suddenly the girls were sobbing again. Little Mabel hung on to Billy until Ma pulled her off.

Billy ran up the gangway and hurried to the boat deck facing the quayside. It was crowded with members of the crew, but he managed to find a space at the handrail beside a lifeboat davit. Each lifeboat was held on a pair of davits, ready to be swung out and lowered to the sea in case of an emergency. The boats were covered with water-tight tarpaulins and smelled of fresh paint.

Far below Billy could see Ma and the girls. They waved, and he waved back. A band was playing and the crowd cheered when the gangways were lowered. The engines throbbed through the deck beneath Billy's boots. After a while the ship gave three great blasts on its foghorn and a gaggle of tugs began to draw it slowly away from the quayside, like dolphins pulling at a giant whale.

Billy waved to Ma and the girls again.

‘How sweet,' said a voice behind him. Billy didn't have to look round to know it was George. ‘What a lovely family you have there, Billy. Mind you, I bet it's a relief for you to be away from those wee girls, you being a terrible coward and them probably knocking you about all the time. That little one looks a holy terror.'

Billy wanted to punch him, but the same instinct told him this was not the time or the place. He took one last look at the quayside and the crowd and Ma and the girls, then pushed past George and headed to the crew quarters. George said something else, and Billy could feel his smirk burning into his back. There was nothing Billy could do about it. Not at the moment, anyway.

* * *

The sun shone down on them as they sailed out of Belfast Lough and south through the Irish Sea. There were no passengers, and the ship had only a skeleton crew and a temporary skipper – Captain Smith would take full command in
Southampton. Mr McElroy kept the bellboys occupied, using them to run errands all over the ship so they would get to know their way around.

Billy enjoyed the work, but every now and again he would stop by the handrail and gaze out at the sea and sky and the dark smudge of the Welsh or English coastline in the distance. He could hardly believe he was sailing on the most famous ship in the world – that he was actually one of the crew! The whole idea gave him so much pleasure he almost forgot to be homesick.

He wasn't seasick either, unlike most of the bellboys and even some of the stewards and deckhands. ‘I'm impressed, Billy,' said Mr McElroy one morning when they were on the foredeck. ‘You must be a natural sailor.'

Billy smiled, and turned to look at George. His enemy was leaning over the handrail with a distinctly green tinge to his face, but he still had the energy to glare back at him.
Score one to me
, Billy thought, and walked off.

Docking in Southampton was a great event. They were greeted by a fleet of little boats and tugs and the quayside was even more crowded
than in Belfast. The rest of the crew joined the ship, the passengers came aboard, and the bellboys lined up at the top of the Grand Staircase to greet them.

Billy was fascinated to see the rich people he had heard so much about. They wore fine clothes, the men in suits and the ladies in beautiful gowns and fancy hats. But apart from their outfits, Billy thought they looked like anybody else.

‘Step lively now, boys,' Mr McElroy said quietly. ‘Don't wait to be asked, offer your services. Billy, over here. I've got a special job for you.'

Billy followed Mr McElroy towards a small group of people with two men at its centre. He could sense the other bellboys watching him, George in particular, but he didn't care. In fact he relished being picked out by Mr McElroy.

‘This is Mr Ismay, Billy,' said Mr McElroy, nodding at one of the men. Mr Ismay was wearing a dark suit and had a moustache. Its ends were waxed and pointed upwards. ‘He runs the company, so he's a very important man.'

‘Don't listen to him, Billy,' said Mr Ismay, smiling. ‘On this voyage I'm a passenger like any other, and much less important than Mr Andrews here.'

The other man smiled briefly. He was tall and fair, and Billy recognised him immediately. Thomas Andrews was the engineer who had designed the Titanic. He had been pointed out to Billy often enough in the shipyard.

‘Oh no, I don't think so,' Mr Andrews said quietly. ‘I don't pay the bills.'

‘And I've paid some big ones for this ship, I can tell you,' said Mr Ismay. The other men around them laughed politely. ‘Well, this won't do,' Mr Ismay continued. ‘Lead on, Billy. I'd like to see what kind of stateroom the company's money has paid for. I'll see you at dinner, Andrews. Until later, gentlemen.'

Mr Ismay was pleased with his stateroom and gave Billy a handsome tip, a whole shilling. Billy headed back to the Grand Staircase, pleased as punch.

Two days later they docked in Cherbourg on the other side of the English Channel, but
Billy had no time for even a glimpse of the French port. He was kept busy by the new first-class passengers who came aboard, many of them wealthy Americans on their way home after European tours. There were second-class passengers too, as there had been in Southampton.

It was in Cherbourg that Billy at last encountered some of the third-class passengers. Only a few had come aboard in Southampton, but there were crowds of them waiting on the French quayside. Their clothes were threadbare and patched and they talked in dozens of different languages, none of which Billy could understand. He heard a deckhand say they were from all over Europe and most had probably walked hundreds of miles.

When he went off duty in the afternoon Billy headed for the third-class accommodation near the crew quarters to have a closer look. The whole area was packed with people settling in. Billy noticed a lone mother with four pretty wee girls, all dark, and he felt a sudden pang of homesickness. Like other families, they were
housed in a cabin meant for eight people. The four girls were sharing two bunks between them, so there was room in the cabin for five strangers as well.

The youngest girl ran up to him and spoke. ‘Sorry,' he said, and shrugged. ‘I don't have a clue what you're saying. And I think your ma wants you.'

The mother nodded and rolled her eyes, as if to say,
That one is a handful
.

Billy laughed and nodded back, then turned and headed for his own bunk.

That night he slept better than he had done in weeks.

By the time Billy was on duty again the next morning they were away down the Channel, steaming westwards. They made a last stop, at Queenstown in the south of Ireland, and took on more passengers, almost all third class. Billy stood at the handrail, looking at the town and the road beyond, thinking how strange it was that if he walked due north from here he'd be home in a week.

Within a few hours they were heading out to sea once more, this time on the long Atlantic part of the voyage. The good weather held, although there was more cloud cover now and the temperature seemed to drop by the hour.

‘It's always colder on the open sea,' said Mr McElroy when Billy asked him about it. ‘Except for Iceland there's no land to stop the freezing winds blowing straight from the Arctic. Don't worry Billy, you'll soon get used to it.'

Billy wasn't so sure, although he did have a thick woollen pea-coat as part of his uniform, the best coat he'd ever had in his life. The bellboys were issued with gloves too, although they were white and more for show than warmth.

Still, things were good, Billy often thought as they sailed on through calm seas, the ocean flat, almost glassy. The great ship moved swiftly, and there was a rumour going round the crew that Mr Ismay had told Captain Smith to make as much speed as possible – it would be good publicity if the ship arrived ahead of schedule. Mr McElroy said that was nonsense and that the engines needed a steady run below top speed to make sure they bedded in.

Not that their speed mattered to Billy. He was enjoying a double life. On duty, he was to be found at the bellboy station outside Mr McElroy's office or running errands. Now everyone was
settled in there was a lot less fetching and carrying, although he still had plenty of contact with the first-class passengers. A few were bad-tempered and mean, but most were friendly and having a grand time. Some handed out tips like there was no tomorrow.

Off duty, though, he usually went to check on the woman and her daughters who had come aboard in Cherbourg. With the help of a few other passengers, Billy found out they were Polish, and that the woman's husband was already in America.

‘He has a good job,' somebody told Billy. ‘They want a better life than the one they had in Poland.'

Billy could understand that, although it seemed a shame they had to leave the home they loved to get on.

Billy came to know the girls' names, although the only one he could say properly was that of the youngest, Anya. Maybe he tried harder with her because she reminded him of his youngest sister, although she wasn't as clingy and whiny as Mabel could be – Anya was very cheeky. She
was also prone to wander off on her own and get lost, much to her mother's annoyance.

‘There you go,' said Billy, handing Anya over to her mother. It was the afternoon of the second day out of Queenstown and Anya had been missing for over an hour. ‘I found the little minx hiding in one of the first-class sitting rooms. I think she likes watching all the rich ladies in their fine clothes.'

The mother told Anya off in a stream of Polish. Billy smiled. Cross mothers obviously looked and sounded the same wherever they were from.

Suddenly Billy felt as if he were being watched himself. He turned round and saw George Anderson in the doorway of the third-class promenade. George smirked at him and walked off, and Billy's heart sank. He had been careful to ensure that none of the other bellboys knew about his visits to Anya and her mother and sisters. George must have somehow cottoned on and followed him down here.

Now George was probably on his way to Mr McElroy, aiming to get Billy in trouble for
talking to third-class passengers. Billy sighed and said goodbye to Anya's mother and the girls – Anya giving him a cheeky smile – and trudged off miserably to lie on his bunk, convinced his career with the White Star Line was over and that he would end up back in the shipyard.

A little while later one of the other bellboys came with a summons. Mr McElroy wanted to see him in his office.

Billy knocked on the Chief Purser's door.

‘Come in!' said Mr McElroy. The Chief Purser was sitting behind his desk and George was standing in front of it. George looked at Billy and grinned in triumph, as if to say,
I've got you now, Fleming
.

‘George has just been telling me he saw you in the third-class promenade, Billy,' said Mr McElroy. ‘Fraternising with the passengers. That was the phrase you used, wasn't it, George?'

‘Oh aye, Mr McElroy, sir,' said George. ‘He was fraternising all right.'

‘I can explain, sir…' Billy said, although he wasn't sure that he could.

Mr McElroy held up his hand. ‘You don't
have to, Billy,' he said. ‘You're off duty, aren't you?' Billy nodded. ‘Well, we work you damned hard, and I've always believed that a man who works for a living deserves to spend his leisure time any way he wants, so long as what he does is decent and legal. If you want to make friends with third-class passengers, that's entirely up to you.'

‘But sir, you said…' George spluttered.

Mr McElroy frowned. ‘Never mind what I said, George. I don't ever want to hear this kind of thing from you again – nobody likes a sneak. Be off with you before I decide the engine room needs another stoker.'

George hurried out, too scared of Mr McElroy to give Billy a glance.

‘Thanks, Mr McElroy,' said Billy.

‘No need to thank me. You're a good lad and a hard worker, and I know that George and you aren't the best of friends. But he's not as bad as he seems. I think he might even be a decent chap under all that bluster. Now, do you think you can handle another special job for me when you're back on duty?'

Billy grinned. ‘Aye sir, you can count on me!'

It was a
very
special job. Billy was to be the messenger between the bridge and the Marconi Room, the cabin on the boat deck where the wireless operators worked. They had the most up-to-date equipment in the world, and could send and receive messages to and from other ships, even America.