Women and Children First: Bravery, love and fate: the untold story of the doomed Titanic

‘I wish Seamus, my husband, was here. He’d know what to do.’

‘You’re with us, now. Our men will look out for you. I’ll be sure to tell them to.’

‘You won’t go anywhere without me? I’d never find my way around this place. It’s the most I can do getting to the dining room for meals then finding my way back to the cabin again.’ Annie tried to speak lightly, but her voice caught in her throat.

Eileen put an arm round her shoulders and gave her a quick squeeze. ‘I promise we won’t go anywhere without you. Let’s wait and see what Kathleen says when she gets back. She’s bossy enough she’ll be sure to get some answers out of the crew.’

It wasn’t long before Kathleen reappeared. ‘Storm in a teacup,’ she called with a grin. ‘The steward says we should all go back to bed. If anything more happens, they’ll come and let us know. We probably won’t be moving on till morning, he says. Oh, and that hissing noise you can hear is just the engines letting off steam. They have to do that when the ship stops.’

Annie listened and now she could hear the hissing. She’d half thought it was inside her head.

‘You go and have a lie-down,’ Eileen patted her shoulder. ‘Most likely the next time we see you will be at breakfast, but if anything happens before then we’ll knock on your door.’

Annie thanked the two of them and watched as they walked off down the corridor, then she turned the handle and let herself back into the cabin. The children were in the depths of sleep, their breathing barely detectable. She remembered that when Finbarr and Patrick were younger she sometimes panicked and woke them in the night just to be sure they were still alive. You never did that with the third and fourth.

She smoothed a curly lock back from the forehead of little Roisin, her precious daughter, and noticed the thumb resting on the pillow where it had slipped out of her mouth. She’d promised she would stop sucking her thumb when they got to America, but Annie didn’t believe it for a moment. She didn’t even know she was doing it half the time, and three was very young after all.

Finbarr started dreaming. She could tell from a change in his breathing, some little sighing noises, a slight restlessness. Maybe he was dreaming of working on a big ship like this. Annie didn’t plan to encourage it. She didn’t ever want him to leave her side. If he got married, she supposed he and his wife could rent the apartment upstairs but she didn’t want him going any further than that.

Finbarr was special because he was her first-born, but he was also the one with the most spirit. He reminded her of herself at that age, always asking questions, wanting to understand how everything worked and why the sky was blue and the grass was green. He was braver than her, though. She had always been obedient and didn’t like to make a fuss, but Finbarr would never put up with perceived injustice. He often got himself into bother at school by questioning the teachers’ decisions. He thought for himself, and they didn’t like that.

Finbarr was the main reason they were moving. From the day he started school, he had been bright beyond his years and Annie could tell there wasn’t enough the teachers back home could teach him. Who knows, but with some clever American teachers he might become an office worker? She wanted that for him, that he earned his living with his brains rather than his muscles, like his dad. She wanted him to go out to work in a suit and tie and carrying a case of important papers. It wasn’t that Seamus wasn’t clever. He could have gone far if anyone had ever persuaded him to stay on at school and take his exams, but that hadn’t been an option because his dad had needed help on the farm. They would do better by Finbarr in America – the land of opportunity, everyone called it.

Oh God, she just had to get them there first. She’d been anxious before when all was plain sailing, and now it seemed the ship had taken on water. Even if it was just a small hole, it meant they were a fraction less safe than they had been yesterday.

She pulled her rosary beads from a little embroidered bag in her handbag, and knelt down on the floor.

‘Our Father, which art in heaven,’ she began, fingering the first bead. If she did the whole rosary before going back to bed, then surely no harm would come to them?

‘Hallowed be thy name. Thy Kingdom come, thy will be done …’

Chapter Seventeen

As Reg walked along B Deck, passengers were beginning to emerge from their cabins, fiddling with the ties on their cork life preservers.

‘Do we need to put these on now?’ someone asked him.

‘No, just take them up on deck with you,’ he improvised. He wasn’t sure if that was the correct advice but reasoned that the officers on deck would soon set them straight.

Since he seemed to be in possession of information, a few people crowded round him with more queries.

‘Is it true that the ship’s taking on water?’

‘No, sir, not that I’ve heard.’ He wondered where they got that from. Funny how rumours spread.

‘Do we all have to get in the lifeboats? Are they safe?’

‘Safe as houses,’ Reg told them. ‘The captain will decide whether they’re to be lowered or not.’

‘Should we take our valuables with us? I’ve got some money lodged with the purser.’

‘No, just take yourselves. Even if the lifeboats are lowered, you’ll be back on board again before long.’

Once they had assured themselves that he knew little more than they did, the group dispersed and Reg continued along the corridor to the Graylings’ suite. Most other doors were ajar, evidence that the room steward for the floor had already knocked and passed on the message. Reg listened, but couldn’t hear any sound from within the Graylings’ suite. Were they there? He knocked and waited, but no one came. He knocked again, more loudly this time. Still there was no reply. Finally, he tried the handle and found the door locked. That was odd. No one locked their doors on board. Still, he assumed it meant they had gone up to the boat deck already.

Reg saw the steward coming along, checking rooms and turning off the lights if the occupants had departed.

‘Hey, what are you doing?’ he called, in a less than friendly tone.

‘I was looking for the Graylings. Have you seen them?’

‘If they’re not answering the door, they must have gone already. What do you want them for anyway?’

‘Nothing.’ He blushed.

‘Well, go and mind your own beeswax.’

Reg made his way down to C Deck, but the stewards appeared to have roused everyone there as well. There was nothing for him to do. Suddenly, too late to duck out of the way, he saw the Howsons coming towards him. She was bundled up in a pale mink coat and matching hat, and Reg couldn’t help but think her outfit seemed too glamorous for climbing into a ship’s lifeboat in the middle of the night. But then, come to think of it, most of the other first-class women were dressing up in their furs and fancy clothes. It was yet another opportunity for a fashion show.

‘Reg, isn’t this all a bore?’ Mrs Howson asked. ‘I was sleeping like a baby when we were awoken. Do we really have to go up on deck?’

‘I’m afraid so, ma’am. Captain’s orders.’

‘How long will it take?’

‘I couldn’t say.’

‘Well, I think it’s outrageous, and I plan to complain to the captain personally.’

‘Don’t be an idiot, Vera,’ her husband admonished. ‘Let’s go.’ He grabbed her arm, prompting a sharp and most unladylike response, which Reg took as his cue to press on along the corridor.

Half a dozen passengers were clustered outside the purser’s office, clutching their receipts, and Reg could see the two lads inside were being run ragged trying to track down each individual deposit box filled with money and jewels.

‘We’ll be back in a couple of hours. There’s really no need, ma’am,’ one of them was insisting.

‘I’m not going anywhere without my Fabergé egg,’ an elderly woman told him.

Reg stopped for a moment, considering whether to volunteer his assistance. He wanted to keep busy but there was nothing for him to do. The pursers would never let a victualling steward into their hallowed office, so he decided to go down to the crew dorm and find John.

As he passed the first-class restaurant, he noted the time: twelve-thirty-five. It was only fifty-five minutes since the collision, but it felt like hours. Time seemed to have slowed down – or could the clock have stopped?

Descending the staff stairs to E Deck, Reg noted that the steps felt odd. He hadn’t felt any difference on the richly carpeted passenger stairs, but the hard staff ones seemed to be at a strange angle, so that when he put his foot down there was a curious sense of tilting forwards. The ship was listing, he realised. Noticeably listing. His heart began to beat just a little bit harder. That seemed to imply they were taking on water. Maybe that passenger had been right.

There was no one in the dorm. No John, no Bill. Someone had come and given them instructions, and Reg felt a little panicky that he hadn’t been where he was supposed to be and now he’d been separated from his fellow workers. It seemed imperative that he found them as soon as possible. Before leaving the dorm, he went to his bunk and retrieved his passport and a St Christopher Florence had once given him, which he kept under his pillow. He checked his trouser pocket and made sure the five-pound note was still there. Then he reached under the bunk and pulled out a life preserver. There was only one left, which meant John must already have taken his. Clutching it to his chest, he hurried out of the door and back to the tilting staff stairs, which he bounded up two at a time, all five floors to the boat deck.

When Reg emerged panting for breath on deck, lifeboats were being loaded. A nearby boat was hanging on its davits, suspended over the side and Fifth Officer Lowe was standing with one foot in the boat and one on the railing as he helped an elderly woman to step in. She was terrified and in the end Lowe had to hoist her across and deposit her in the boat, where she sat down heavily on a bench, looking dazed and scared. Others hung back, glued to their partners, unwilling to commit themselves to a wooden rowing boat hanging seventy-five feet above the surface of the ocean. And who could blame them? Reg thought.

‘Who’s next? Any more women or children here?’ Lowe called out. ‘We’re about to lower away.’