Forget Me Not (13 page)

Eve gripped the edge of the
Titanic
, her legs dangling towards the ocean below. Thomas raced forwards and dragged her back onto the ship’s deck. Eve pulled herself to her feet and straightened her coat and life jacket.

“Told you, Bea,” she yelled. “Now, be a good girl for Mother and I’ll see you soon. With Teddy. I promise!”

“Back from the edge, girl,” yelled a sailor.

“Mind how you’re speaking, fellow,” said Thomas, with as much authority as he could muster.

The sailor moved to lifeboat number four, the next one in line. “Come along, women and children. Anderson, Moore and you three men. Crew this next lifeboat.”

Thomas watched the women shy away from the lifeboat, children tucked under their arms like chicks under a hen’s wing.

“What nonsense,” a first-class lady announced. “I’m safer on this ship than on any tiny boat. I am returning to my cabin. See to it I am brought a hot tea.” She marched back through the crowd, followed by a younger woman who Thomas guessed was her daughter.

Thomas came to life. “Eve you must get on this lifeboat. You must.”

She glared at him. “What I
must
do is find Teddy. I promised.”

“You left that lifeboat to see Hugh. I know you’re sweet on him.”

Eve scoffed. “Don’t be an imbecile, Thomas.” She brushed past him and walked into Father.

“Turn around, young lady, and climb into that lifeboat,” he said. His cheeks were pink in the icy air and his jaw was clenched.

“No.” Eve pulled back her shoulders. “I promised Bea.”

“Eve, I can find Teddy and anything else you need. Just get in the next lifeboat,” pleaded Thomas.

“Immediately,” said Father.

Eve glowered at them. “Neither of you have any intentions of taking a seat from lady or child.” Her chin wobbled as she untied her life jacket. “If Bea is to have her teddy, it is up to me. I shall find him and take a seat in the next lifeboat. ” She thrust the canvas jacket at her father and pushed her way through the rumbling crowd to the stairs.

“Come back,” yelled Father.

“Save your breath.” Thomas sighed. “Let’s make sure she has a place in a lifeboat when she returns.”

Words are easy, like the wind
,
Faithful friends are hard to find
.
Your friend, Alexander Jackson,
RMS
Titanic
, 10/04/1912

Free of the life jacket, I raced down flight after flight of stairs to D Deck and to our cabin. Since we had first boarded the
Titanic
, every door along the corridor had been shut, but tonight most were either ajar or wide open. Ours was ajar.

Inside, the smell of Mother’s soap was still hanging in the air. The
Titanic
rolled under my feet, listing heavily to the port side. I steadied myself against my bunk and reached under my pillow for my autograph book. As I put it in my coat pocket, I picked my way across the tilting floor to the wardrobe. I rummaged through my folded clothes for the bracelet Father had given me. The sight of it made me want to cry, but I couldn’t allow myself to do that. With fumbling fingers, I fastened it to my wrist, the safest place for it in the face of the chaos.

Next I searched Bea’s bed for Teddy. I threw back the blankets. No Teddy. I pulled the covers back up and looked between the blankets and sheet. Still no Teddy.

Panic spread from my stomach to my fingertips.

I dropped to my knees and searched under the sofa and bunks. Nothing. I turned to the cupboards, flinging clothes onto the floor. But Teddy wasn’t there either.

Panic now clawed at my throat, threatening to swallow me whole. A strange sound registered in my brain. Water. Not the sigh and heave of the ocean I’d become used to the last few days, but a trickling sound. I looked down. Water swirled around my boots and soaked the clothes I’d tossed to the floor. Bea’s smock wrapped around the leg of the bunk.

I bunched my coat in my hands. “Please, God, please. I need to find Bea’s teddy.”

“Eve.” Hugh’s voice broke through my scrambled thoughts. “The water is rising fast.”

“I can see that for myself, I am not a child.” It was either yell or cry, such was my relief at seeing him.

“Where is your life jacket?”

“Father has it.”

“We need to collect it. Now. The ship has hit an iceberg and–”

I shook my head. “I have to find Bea’s teddy.”

Hugh held out his hand. Teddy.

“Where was he?”

“The landing near the promenade deck.”

An image of Bea rubbing Teddy’s ear as Father had ploughed up the stairs flashed into my mind. I sloshed forwards and for the second time, hugged Hugh. His warmth made me feel calmer and stronger. I stepped back. Hugh’s free hand stayed on my arm.

“Hugh–”

“We have to go.” He grasped my hand and dragged me out of the cabin to the stairs. Water, so cold it took my breath away, was up to our ankles. I ran harder, icy water splashing my legs, and drew alongside Hugh.

The
Titanic
groaned and creaked as though in pain. It slipped and lurched beneath our feet, wrenching my hand from Hugh’s. I screamed. We tumbled into each other and slid across the wet floor, slamming into the wall. Hugh cried out. The shock of the icy water made me gasp. Worse than the cold was my fear. Was this it? Were Hugh and I going to die on the
Titanic
? I couldn’t let that happen.

I scrambled to my feet and splashed to Hugh.

“Are you hurt?” I asked, helping him up.

He grimaced. “It’s nothing. Let’s go.”

He hobbled beside me. When I reached the stairs first, Hugh was well behind, his face twisted in pain. He had to move faster or we’d both drown. I rushed to him and wrapped my arm around his shoulders. “Lean on me.”

His life jacket jabbed into my side.

Climbing the stairs seemed to take forever. I kept waiting for the stairs to slip beneath my feet, and for Hugh and me to be dragged to the bottom of the ocean with the ship. When we reached the top of the stars without incident, I wanted to cry with relief.

“They’re filling lifeboats forward of the boat-deck. Cutting through A Deck will be faster.”

“Bad idea,” said Hugh.

Anger swamped me. “Suit yourself.” He could find his own way to the lifeboats. I let him go and stormed ahead.

“Eve, wait,” he yelled. “The lifeboats at the bow have gone.”

My skin prickled with fear. If they were gone, surely that meant all the lifeboats were gone. “Are you sure?”

Hugh, holding himself up on the railing, nodded. “We need to go to the stern.”

I ran back to Hugh and helped him up the last flight of stairs.

The boat-deck was more crowded than it had been earlier. The passengers were no longer chatty and relaxed but jostled for positions nearest the remaining lifeboats. Ahead of us a man in an evening suit and bow tie tried to give a sailor a wad of cash. The sailor pushed the man away. An older couple walked arm in arm away from the remaining few boats to the first-class promenade. The sight of them made tears spring to my eyes.

Another distress rocket lit up the night sky, illuminating the lifeboats drawing away from the
Titanic
. I prayed that Mother and Bea were safe.

“Keep moving,” said Hugh.

A shout filled the still air. “There are only four lifeboats left.”

The passengers pushed to the starboard side with a new intensity, pleading, holding children above their heads.

“Stand back,” bellowed a male voice above the chaos. “Stand back, I say.” But still the crowd heaved forwards. Three shots sounded. Men and women screamed and pressed back from the place from where the shots seemed to have been fired. I stumbled against Hugh, who put his arm around my shoulders.

“Eve,” a woman called. “Over here, Eve.”

I scanned the crowd.

“Eve, here!”

Hugh pointed. “It’s the nurse from the hospital.”

“Eve.” Evelyn Marsden rushed towards me. “I hoped you’d gone already. Come on, there are lifeboats over here.” She pulled my arm. “Where is your life jacket?”

“Father has it. I need to find him. He will be frantic.”

“There’s no time.”

“But, I–”

“I’ll find your father.” Hugh took off his life jacket. “Take this, and Bea’s bear.”

I shook my head. “No, Hugh. You must–”

Hugh held my shoulders. “Eve, I promised Mother and Meggie I’d stay with Father. I need to find him. And your father and Thomas. Then the four of us will board a lifeboat together. I promise.”

He was lying, I knew it. “I’ll come with you.”

Hugh shook his head. “Go with Miss Marsden. Please. I promise to tell your father you are safe.”

I bit my bottom lip. “Hugh, I …”

“Eve, we need to go,” said Evelyn, her voice gentle. “Now.”

Hugh helped me into the life jacket, tying it so the jacket held Bea’s teddy to my chest. He checked the ties then leaned down to rest his forehead against mine. “I will see you soon, Eve.”

With that he kissed me on the lips.

Father held Eve’s life jacket to his chest and paced by the stairs on the starboard side of the boat-deck, desperately looking for her. Beside him, Thomas was transfixed by the scenes playing out around them.

The crowd had surged forwards in hope of finding seats on the remaining lifeboats. Those unwilling to leave the ship had gathered in front of the poop deck where Father Byles, who had led the morning’s church service, recited prayers. Men who had farewelled their wives and children with promises that they’d be on a later lifeboat had retired to the smoking room, determined to meet their fate in comfort and, as one chap had said, “as a gentleman.”

A distress rocket, possibly the fifth or sixth in the last forty minutes, whizzed over Thomas’s head. He watched the smoke trail and the orange sparks leave their imprint on the sky. “Do you think another ship will see the rockets and come to our rescue, Father?”

“That’s it,” said Father. “I’m going to look for Eve. You wait here.”

“I’m coming.” But before Thomas could move, his name crashed through the panicked voices.

“Thomas! Wait.” He was sure he’d heard the word “Eve” amongst the confusion too. The crowd parted to reveal Hugh, hobbling and gasping for breath.

“Thomas, Mr Gilmore. Eve …”

“Where is she?” Father grasped Hugh’s shoulders. “Where’s my Eve?”

“With Miss Marsden. Lifeboat 16. Port. Saw her off. Promised I’d tell you. She’s safe.” Hugh straightened up as his breathing returned to normal.

“How long ago?” asked Father.

“The boat has only just lowered.”

“But she doesn’t have her life jacket,” said Father.

“She has mine,” said Hugh.

“Thank you.” Father patted Hugh’s shoulder and handed him Eve’s jacket. “Put this on.”

Thomas noticed Hugh’s trousers as he slipped the canvas jacket over his shoulders. “Hugh, you’re wet.”

“The water has passed the saloon deck.” Hugh concentrated on fastening the life jacket.

The
Titanic
jerked again. Thomas stood with his legs apart to steady himself as the ship listed further.

Hugh gasped in pain.

“Are you hurt, Hugh?”

“Just a sprain.” Hugh looked up from the life jacket ties. “If we go to the port side, we should be able to see Eve’s lifeboat. Show her we are together.”

Thomas and Father supported Hugh through the crowd to the other side of the ship. Thomas was shocked at the sight that met him. He’d expected to look down upon the ocean, as he had from the boat-deck throughout the journey. But the water wasn’t below, it had swallowed the promenade deck and lapped against the bridge.

Dread, thick and heavy, draped his shoulders.

“There!” pointed Hugh. “The one closest to the ship. Wave, Thomas. Let her see we are together and safe.”

Safe. The word seemed brittle in the icy air. Thomas raised his arm and waved, but unlike Hugh, his face remained grave.

Father waved for all he was worth. “Keep waving, Thomas.”

Have many friends trust few
,
Always paddle your own canoe
.
Sincerely yours, Edith Crowley,
RMS
Titanic
, 11/04/1912

Numb, I sat rigid on the lifeboat bench between Evelyn Marsden, on the outside, and her friend. Whether I was numb from fear or from being wet when I fell near the stairs, I couldn’t tell. The life jacket jabbed into my back and sides. Teddy’s nose poked into my ribs.

Around me the other passengers in the lifeboat, including girls about Thomas and Hugh’s age, a handful of male crew members, and ladies, who I guessed from their attire were steerage passengers, and stewardesses like Evelyn, huddled together for warmth. Two of the younger girls cried silently; another shook so much I could hear her teeth chattering. The rest of the passengers stared blankly at the floor of the boat as if they couldn’t bear to watch what was happening behind them. It didn’t matter if I looked or not, the screams and voices from the
Titanic
that filled the night couldn’t be avoided. And I knew it was a sound I would never forget.

One of the stewardesses, Miss Jessop, held a baby which a gentleman had begged someone to take. I’d been about to snatch the child myself when Miss Jessop had reached out for him.

As we were being lowered into the ocean, we all sat still and silent, the men holding our five oars straight in the air to prevent them from crashing into the side of the
Titanic
.

Without warning, Evelyn had stood and called up to the officer supervising our descent. “Mr Moody. Who is to be in charge here?”

The officer on deck looked down and frowned. “Bailey,” he called. A minute later, a man I later learned to be
Titanic
’s master-at-arms, Mr Bailey, shimmied down the ropes. He was a formidable man with a moustache shaped like the whale’s tale I’d seen in one of Thomas’s books. Something about his bearing made me feel a little more secure.

The moment our boat hit the ocean, Mr Bailey issued the order. “Take up oars. Row for all you are worth.”

There were three oars on the port side of the lifeboat, and two on the right where Evelyn and I sat. Evelyn dipped the end of the oar she held in the water. The handle extended past me.