Titanic (7 page)

Even so, his chest was in agony by the time they reached the stairwell and he started swimming upwards. Then he saw the one thing he had been scared of. The rising water had covered the bulkhead door – and it was closed. Billy kicked against it, but all he did was stub his toe.

He looked up. There was only more water above, no pocket of trapped air. He felt the awful
pressure in his lungs, the desperate need to take a breath. Anya clung on even more tightly and stared at him with the fear of death in her child's eyes, her cheeks puffed out. She shook her head again and a stream of bubbles burst from her mouth. Her grip on him began to slacken and her eyes closed.

She was going to die because he hadn't saved her. It was his fault…

Suddenly there was a screeching noise and Billy felt himself being sucked towards the door. The end of a metal pole had appeared at one edge and he realised someone had pushed it through from the other side to lever the heavy door open. The water was flooding out, pulling Billy and Anya with it.

The door inched wider and Billy tried to help, pulling at the door with his free hand, straining with all his might, feeling as if he was fighting the force of the whole Atlantic Ocean. Then with a rush they were washed out into a corridor beyond.

George stood over them, breathing heavily, still gripping the pole.

‘I'm sorry, so sorry, I couldn't stop it closing, I thought you were a goner,' he said, his face full of anguish. ‘I had to go and find something to get it open.'

He pulled the pole out and the pressure of the water in the stairwell instantly slammed the door shut with a clang. Billy rolled over to check on Anya. She lay still, her face deathly white, her eyes still shut, her lips bluer than before.

‘Oh, dear God,' whispered George. ‘Is she…?'

Billy couldn't believe it. He'd been so close.

He reached out to grab her, shake her till she woke up. Instead, he clumsily slammed into her chest, landing hard on her with his shoulder. She coughed and retched, then moaned.

‘She's alive!' shouted George. ‘You did it, Fleming! You saved her!'

But had he? For all he knew they might still be trapped.

Anya retched some more, but she seemed to recover well enough. If she was anything to go by, Billy thought, these Poles must be pretty tough people. But the three of them were shivering, their clothes were soaked, and Billy wondered how much longer they could keep going.

They had to get up on deck.

‘Any idea where we are?' he said, looking round, his teeth chattering.

‘In the middle of the ship,' said George. ‘It's all first class here.'

A long corridor stretched away, cabin doors lining both sides. It felt strange to be in
a part of the ship that was still dry and looked relatively normal. ‘Right, this way,' said Billy, trying to sound confident that he knew what to do. He picked Anya up once more and hurried off, Billy following close behind.

‘Hang on a second, Fleming,' George said when they hadn't gone far. He had stopped by an open door and was grinning. ‘Fancy a change of clothes?'

Billy and Anya peered through the door. Beyond it was one of the first-class suites, and it was clear its occupants had left in a hurry. Two huge travelling trunks stood open on the carpet, clothes of all kinds spilling from them.

‘I'd like to feel drier, so I would,' said Billy, grinning now too. ‘And it would be good for Anya to get a bit warmer. But we'll have to be quick.'

Billy and George tore through the luggage, examining clothes and discarding them until they found what they wanted. Within minutes Anya was swaddled in a nightshirt and a thick pullover. Billy shed what was left of his uniform and pulled on some trousers and a pullover, both
too big for him. George did better – one of the former occupants of the cabin must have been more his size.

Suddenly the deck beneath their feet juddered and they heard a grinding noise louder than anything they'd heard before. The cabin's lights flickered and went out, plunging them into darkness. Anya squealed and held on to Billy's leg, and George yelled in panic. For a brief moment Billy was convinced they were finished. They'd never find their way up on deck in the dark. But then the lights flickered into life again and they all breathed huge sighs of relief.

‘Come on,' said Billy. ‘We are
definitely
running out of time!'

They left the cabin and headed along the corridor until they came to a gangway that led upwards. Anya seemed to be getting heavier, and Billy puffed and panted as they climbed the steps. His arms and shoulders ached so badly he didn't think he could carry her much further. They went up one flight, then another, Billy worrying all the while that they'd find another gate at the top.

But they didn't. The doors were open and unblocked and Billy, Anya and George emerged onto the boat deck not far from where Billy had begun his descent into the bowels of the ship earlier.

Things had changed a great deal, though, and for a moment Billy just stood and stared at the incredible scene before them, Anya still clinging to him, her arms tight round his neck.

The ship's bow was completely submerged and the sea lapped at the windows of the bridge. There were people everywhere, some stumbling around as if in a daze, some running, many of them shouting the names of family or friends or screaming in despair.

The deck tilted downwards steeply, and Billy saw a man trip and fall then roll head over heels until he crashed into a bulkhead.

Further along, the band from one of the first-class lounges was playing a haunting, sad tune, five men in evening dress with violins, their pale faces rapt.

‘God, it's like a madhouse,' George said, his voice hushed.

Suddenly, with a familiar whoosh, another distress rocket rose into the night sky and exploded. The starburst lit the sea in a great ring round the ship and Billy saw at least half a dozen lifeboats moving steadily away over the dark water, maybe more. But that was on this side, he realised. There were only sixteen lifeboats in total – so most of them might already have been launched.

‘I think we'd better find your Ma and sisters, Anya,' Billy said.

Anya's mother, however, wasn't where Billy had told her to wait. Anya burrowed into Billy's neck and started to cry. He tried to comfort her, then caught sight of her mother and sisters standing at the rear of a crowd further along the deck.

‘Hey, over here!' he yelled, and Anya's mother whipped round, her face full of joy. She ran to Billy, Anya's sisters clinging to her skirts.

Anya leapt out of Billy's arms and into her mother's. There was a lot of weeping and wailing and hugging and streams of Polish. Anya's mother was sobbing with joy to have
her daughter back, although she was obviously surprised to see her in such strange clothes, and at one point Billy was sure she gave Anya a telling-off.

That would be for getting lost in the first place, Billy realised, and smiled when he thought his own Ma would do the same.

Then Anya's mother grabbed Billy and started planting kisses all over his face. Anya was almost crushed between them and George stood back, laughing.

‘You've made a friend for life there, so you have, Billy Fleming,' he said. ‘In fact, if she wasn't already married, I'd say you were in with a chance.'

‘You don't know what you're talking about,' muttered Billy, trying to push Anya's mother off. He could feel himself blushing despite the bitter cold. ‘I can't understand why the blasted woman is making such a fuss of me.'

‘Well, you did just save her daughter's life,' said George.

‘Not yet,' said Billy, freeing himself at last. ‘The job's only half done. We need to get
them in a lifeboat or we might as well not have bothered.'

George stopped laughing and that anguished look returned to his face. Anya's mother sensed the change in mood. She said something to Billy, a single word, then tugged his arm and pointed at the crowd where he had spotted her. She spoke again, saying the same word several times until Billy finally understood – she was trying to say ‘boat' in English, her accent making it sound Polish.

Billy let himself be pulled along, nodding at George to follow. Anya's mother pushed into the crowd, carrying Anya and holding Billy's hand, and still managing to shepherd her other daughters along in front of her.

‘Hey, who do you think you're shoving, Mrs?' said a tetchy voice. A young man had turned to glare at them. His hair was parted in the middle, a thin moustache clung to his top lip, and he wore a sharp suit. But his face was pale and frightened.

‘Back off there, let the women and kiddies through!' somebody yelled.

‘It's not
just
women and kiddies, is it?' said the young man, his tone even more petulant.

But no one was listening to him, and the crowd parted, allowing Anya's mother up to the handrail with her children and Billy and George.

A little further along a section of the handrail was open and a seaman was helping passengers into a lifeboat, the last one on this side of the ship as far as Billy could see. The crowd watched sullenly, and Billy soon realised why. The people getting into the lifeboat were clearly first-class passengers, and those making up the crowd clearly weren't. Three burly seamen held them back.

Behind them stood someone Billy recognised. Mr Ismay was obviously in charge, deciding who was allowed in the lifeboat and who wasn't.

‘First class only in this boat, I'm afraid,' said one seaman. He held up a hand, but Anya's mother knocked it aside and unleashed a torrent of Polish at him.

‘Shame on you!' somebody yelled. ‘Let the kiddies on the lifeboat!'

‘There's no more room, I tell you, no room,' the seaman shouted back.

‘You're lying!' somebody screamed. ‘There's space on the benches!'

Billy looked over the handrail and saw that most of the benches were full. The first-class passengers sitting on them – women and children for the most part, and a few men as well – looked embarrassed and even ashamed. But there was a small space on one bench, a space just big enough for Anya and her mother and sisters.

Billy looked at Mr Ismay and his heart hardened against him.

‘Mr Ismay,' he called out.

Mr Ismay looked up.

‘Everyone can see there's room enough in the boat for these wee girls and their ma,' said Billy loudly. ‘Or are you just going to let them drown along with the rest of us poor people? Maybe the other fine folk in this boat will tell all their fancy friends about it when you get to New York.'

Billy pushed Anya's mother and the girls up against the seamen. He stared hard at Mr Ismay, refusing to let him look away.

At last Mr Ismay nodded. ‘Let them on,' he said quietly, and the seamen did as they were ordered, hurrying Anya and her family aboard. Anya's mother glanced back at Billy, but then she and the girls were gone and the seamen closed ranks again. Somebody yelled at them, and soon there was a scuffle. Billy retreated, looking for George.

He found him by the handrail further along the deck. The two boys looked down at the lifeboat as it was lowered to the sea. Anya was sitting on her mother's lap, looking up at them. Billy waved, and the little girl waved back.

‘A long and happy life to you, Anya,' he said softly.

‘What now, Fleming?' said George, turning to Billy. ‘You're the man with the answers. Although I don't think we'll be getting on any lifeboats in the near future. I'm pretty sure they've all been launched, full or not.'

‘You're not wrong there,' said Billy.

He didn't have any more answers. He felt bruised and exhausted and frozen to his bones, and part of him wanted to lie down and die, to wait for the dark sea to swallow him. But he couldn't say that, not with George staring at him so hopefully.

‘We should try to find Mr McElroy,' Billy said. ‘If anyone knows what to do, he will.'

It seemed to make sense to head for the bellboy station, even though that meant going towards the submerged section of the ship.

The decks were still full of people, but none took any notice of the boys. Most were searching for lifejackets, and Billy saw several fights over these precious objects. He saw people leaping from the handrail and into the sea, which didn't seem a good idea.

Further on a priest with a powerful voice led others in a hymn Billy recognised.

Eternal Father, strong to save,
Whose arm hath bound the restless wave,
Who bidd'st the mighty ocean deep
Its own appointed limits keep;
Oh hear us when we cry to Thee,
For those in peril on the sea
.

They found the Chief Purser in his office. He was calmly emptying his desk drawers and putting papers in his pockets. He looked up and frowned.

‘Where have you two been?' he said. ‘I put the rest of the bellboys into a lifeboat half an hour ago. You might well have missed your chance
now. And what happened to your uniforms? You look like a couple of scarecrows!'

‘Sorry, sir,' said Billy. ‘I… I mean we… we were helping passengers…'

‘Don't be daft, you've no need to apologise,' said George, rounding on him. ‘He wasn't just helping passengers, Mr McElroy. He saved my life and the life of a little girl, so he did. And he got her and her family into a lifeboat.'

‘Is that right?' said Mr McElroy. He came out from behind his desk and put a hand on Billy's shoulder. ‘I knew you were a good lad from the moment I set eyes on you. Can I assume you boys have also settled your differences?'

‘Aye, that you can, sir,' said George. He turned to Billy once more and held out his hand. ‘You've got more guts than I'll ever have. You offered me your friendship once and I didn't take it. I hope you'll forgive me, Billy.'