Titanic (6 page)

Billy smiled at her and the girls, all of them frightened and crying and clinging to their mother. ‘Wait here!' he yelled, pointing at the deck where they were standing. Anya's mother nodded again, and Billy decided that had to be good enough.

He turned and descended into the ship, hurrying down the metal stairs of the gangway, leaving the sound of chaos behind him. The best place to look would be the first-class lounges, but the gangway would take him past the third-class cabin area where Anya and her family had their bunks. Billy decided it would do no harm to check in there first, just in case Anya had gone back.

The gangway also took Billy past his own quarters. He glanced through the door and stopped. George was huddled on his bunk with his back to him.

‘What do you think you're playing at, Anderson?' Billy said, surprised. ‘You should be up on deck helping the passengers. You heard Mr McElroy.'

George jumped to his feet and stood between the rows of bunks. ‘I'm… I was just…' he said, wiping his face on his sleeve. He took a deep breath and Billy could see his eyes were red and his cheeks damp. ‘Er… I might ask you the same thing, Fleming,' George said, visibly cranking himself up into indignation and bluster, trying to conceal the fact that he had been crying by going onto the attack. ‘Hoping to find something to steal while everyone else is busy?'

‘Watch your mouth,' said Billy. ‘That's more your kind of stunt.'

‘You watch your own mouth,' said George, his voice unsteady. ‘I can't have you going around saying things like that. It's time I put you in your place.'

Billy was about to tell him not to be so stupid, but George punched him, his fist landing squarely on Billy's jaw. The iron taste of blood filled Billy's mouth and his head rang like a bell.
But he got his fists up and managed to block the next few blows. George was swinging like a madman, screaming in rage.

Billy gave ground slowly, still blocking George's punches. Here he was on the back foot again, but hadn't that been the way of it since he and George had met? Billy had offered friendship and had it thrown back in his face, and now something snapped inside him.

He brushed aside another wild swing and hit out himself. His knuckles connected with George's cheekbone and the older boy reeled backwards, shocked by Billy's onslaught. Billy drove his left fist hard into George's stomach and George fell to the deck like a sack of potatoes. He clutched his gut, curled up tight against a bulkhead and started sobbing.

‘I can't swim,' George whimpered. ‘I can't even swim.'

Billy lost any remaining patience he might have had. He grabbed George's collar and dragged him to his feet. ‘You'll freeze to death in the water long before you drown, you idiot,' he hissed, leaning in close. ‘And I don't care how
scared you are, or how much you hate me. A little girl is going to die if I don't find her. You help me, or I'll send you straight to hell myself.'

‘But what can we do?' said George, his face pale and desperate. ‘We're going to die! One of the seamen told me there's not enough room in the lifeboats. People like you and me will be at the back of the queue.'

‘Maybe so,' said Billy, his anger draining away. He remembered what Mr McElroy had said about George being a decent chap under all his bluster, and now he could see that George was just a scared boy, like Billy himself – the only difference being that George obviously couldn't handle his fear.

‘Maybe
we
are going to die,' Billy went on. ‘But at least we can try to save somebody else, a little girl. Or do you just want to stay here feeling sorry for yourself?'

George rubbed the tears from his eyes once more and took another deep breath, his whole body shuddering. He breathed out, and it was like a balloon deflating, any remaining bluster seeping away. ‘No, I don't,' he said quietly.

‘Well, get a grip on yourself,' said Billy. ‘We don't have a moment to lose.'

* * *

There was no one in Anya's cabin or in the third-class area when they arrived. The space that had been so full of life before was empty, luggage, clothes and papers strewn where fleeing passengers had discarded them.

The deck seemed even more tilted here than elsewhere, perhaps because they could see more of it, thought Billy. Half a dozen bottles had rolled down and were clanking against a steel bulkhead.

‘Search everywhere,' Billy told George. ‘Under the bunks, in the chests…'

He hadn't realised just how big the third class accommodation was. When it had been full, the men, women and children had been packed in like sardines. Now Billy called Anya's name and his voice echoed back to him.

The two boys tore through the entire space. They checked the cubicles in the shared
washrooms, and looked in every corner, every nook and cranny.

‘She's not here,' George said finally.

‘She must be up in first class,' said Billy.

‘First class? But she's not allowed…'

‘Doesn't matter now, does it? Come on.'

They ran as fast as they could through the ship. Several times they heard snatches of wild shouting and yelling coming down from the boat-deck through open doorways. Even though he couldn't make out any of the words, Billy could tell everyone up there was even more scared and angry than before.

The ship groaned and shuddered, and occasionally they passed people running in the opposite direction, most of them wild-eyed and panicking.

Eventually they came to the first-class areas. They burst through a set of doors and the Grand Staircase was in front of them. It looked just as it had before, and for a moment Billy simply couldn't believe that all of this could sink. Then he looked up and saw the huge chandelier hanging at an angle, pointing towards the bow.

It was going to be under water. Soon.

He dashed towards the lounge he'd found Anya in before and called out to her. Glass crunched under his feet. He looked down and saw the remains of an expensive bottle of whisky, its dark contents staining the rich carpet.

‘Here, Fleming,' George shouted suddenly. He had crouched down by a table and was peering underneath it. ‘It's all right, sweetheart. We're here to help.'

Billy ran over and knelt down too. Anya was on the floor, hugging her knees, her big eyes wet with tears. He held out a hand and tried his best to smile.

‘There you are, Anya!' he said softly. ‘We've been looking for you.'

She stared at him solemnly, then took his hand and crawled out. When they stood, she wrapped her arms round Billy's waist and squeezed him as if she'd never let go. He picked her up and she buried her small face in his neck.

They jogged back out of the lounge the way they had come and took the Grand Staircase up towards the boat deck. The corridors were
empty but they were close enough to hear the chaos on deck. They were nearly there.

At last they turned a corner – and ran into a metal gate that had been pulled across the passage. Billy put Anya down and tried to move it aside, but it was firmly locked into place. Some overly efficient steward must have pulled it across to keep the first-class staterooms safe from thieves, Billy thought. He could see the exit to the boat deck no more than a few yards away.

‘Maybe we can force it,' said George, rattling the gate.

‘No chance,' said Billy. ‘We need another way out.'

‘We can get to the second-class exit if we go back.'

‘Lead the way,' said Billy, scooping Anya up again.

They moved back through the corridors and down the Grand Staircase once more. Billy heard a splash when he jumped off the last step. First his toes, then his heart froze as he watched the cold water rising around his feet.

The water was flowing towards them along the floor of the passage – their only route to salvation although it was sloping downwards – and Billy could feel the level was already above his ankles.

‘I think we need to get a move on,' he said, holding Anya tight against him. He could feel her shivering with cold.

‘I was about to say the same thing myself, so I was,' muttered George.

They started to run, but the freezing seawater slowed them down. Soon it was up to their knees and they had to wade. Bits of paper floated past them and Billy was surprised to see it was money,
maybe hundreds of pounds. George wanted to stop and grab some, but there was no time.

Billy forged on, his back aching from carrying Anya, and George followed, shaking his head.

Soon they had left the first-class areas behind. They rounded a corner, and now Billy could see where the water was coming from. A little way ahead a bulkhead door had bulged inwards, and water was spraying out round the entire frame, the metal squeaking and groaning as if it were in pain. Suddenly a rivet shot out and hit the opposite wall of the passage with a dull clang.

The boys looked at each other and pushed on, crouching down, as there were rivets all round the door. Another shot out as they passed it, just missing them, but for a second Billy thought they were safe. Then there was an almighty bang, louder than anything he'd heard in the shipyard, and he was thumped in the back by a freezing torrent. The door had been blown off completely.

Billy was washed along by the force of the unleashed water. He tried to hold on to Anya but he was slammed into a bulkhead and she
was torn from his grasp. He grabbed another door frame and it took all his strength to get his head up for a great, gulping breath. There was less than a foot of air between the corridor's ceiling and the flood, and the water was rising relentlessly.

George was whipped past, and Billy reached out to grab his arm and pulled the other boy to him. Billy's fingers slipped off the door frame and the torrent swept the boys further down the passage. Billy hit something, his back grinding into what felt like metal steps, and realised they were in one of the utility stairwells. They could get up on deck from here.

But what about Anya?

George coughed water from his lungs and clawed his way onto the steps. The agonising cold spread through Billy's bones, sending icy jolts of pain through every muscle. He dragged himself up beside George and the two boys lay panting on the metal stairs, the water lapping at their boots.

But Billy knew he couldn't stay there long. He helped George up the next flight of steps and sat
him down next to another bulkhead door that was still half open.

‘I'm going back for Anya,' Billy said, stripping off his sodden jacket.

George stared at him in disbelief. ‘But she must be dead!' he said.

‘Maybe not,' Billy said, pulling off his boots and trying to ignore how cold he felt. ‘There's a chance she might be in one of the cabins off the corridor.'

‘You're mad,' said George, his teeth chattering. ‘Even if she's alive, you'll never make it. The corridor will be full to the ceiling by now, and this stairwell is a death trap. We won't get out once the water rises and closes the door.'

‘Then you'd better keep it open, Anderson,' Billy said quietly.

They stared at each other for a moment. George nodded.

‘I… I'll do my best, so I will,' he said, hugging himself.

‘That's all any of us can do,' said Billy, remembering something he'd heard Reverend Magill say in a sermon. ‘See you in a wee while.'

Billy turned and went down the steps. The level had risen at least a foot while they had been talking, and he tried not to think about that. He felt chilled to the bone, his pulse beat a tattoo in his ear and he was terrified – he knew that he would have to swim further under water than he had ever done in his life. And then he would have to swim the same distance back again. He took a deep breath, gritted his teeth – and plunged into the freezing water.

His heart pounded as the bitter cold clutched at his body, but he pulled himself through the door and swam into the corridor again. The ceiling lights glowed fuzzily through the water. Billy suddenly wondered why the ship's electrics hadn't failed – and hoped it wouldn't happen just yet. Swimming in freezing water while he held his breath was bad enough. Doing it in the dark would be a nightmare, and one he probably wouldn't wake up from.

Billy kicked on, heading the way they'd come. He passed open doors and quickly checked the cabins, but they were all empty. Floating through the empty, beautiful ship was like being
in a strange dream, although soon his lungs were burning. He kept his mouth shut tight, knowing he had to hold on to what little air he had left. The corridor was getting darker. No, not the corridor – his vision was fading. His head pounded. He was going to drown down here…

Then suddenly through another door he caught sight of a pair of small legs. He swam into the cabin, a large one, and pushed himself up. His head burst out of the water and he smacked into the ceiling.

There were barely two inches of air, but he gulped in a breath and felt himself coming back to life.

Anya was beside him, clinging to a light fitting on the wall. Her lips were blue, but she chattered excitedly in Polish and was clearly very happy to see him. She threw her arms round his neck and squeezed tight.

‘Don't you worry, Anya,' he said. ‘I'm going to save you.'

He pointed down into the water. He pointed at both of them and then down again, trying to mime what they were going to do.

At first she shook her little head, eyes wide with terror, and Billy thought he would have to drag her with him kicking and screaming. But then she seemed to calm down, and before long she was nodding, letting him know she would do what he wanted.

‘You're a good girl, Anya, even if you do run off,' Billy said, smiling at her. ‘And I think you're probably a darn sight braver than I'll ever be.'

He put one arm round her and mimed taking a deep breath. Anya did as she was told, and Billy plunged them under the water before she had a chance to change her mind. Billy knew where he was going and he wasn't about to let down the little girl in his arms.