So Long At the Fair (59 page)

Numbers of people on the upper deck were clambering over the rail and jumping down onto the deck below. A few others were attempting to climb a rope up towards the saloon deck in order to try to gain access to a ladder that hung down the side of the
Bywell Castle
. Had only one or two made the attempt it might have worked, but in seconds there were seven or eight clinging to the rope. Abbie watched as it broke and the men were pitched into the water, some of them being dashed against the side of the saloon as they fell. Others, seeing certain doom if they remained on board, began to leap into the river to get as far from the sinking boat as was possible.

In seconds the river’s surface was teeming with people struggling to stay afloat. The screams of the women and children all around Abbie were unlike anything she had ever heard in her life before, a sound that she herself added to with her own cries of terror. Clinging to the rail on the high-tilting stern, she heard herself cry out ‘Louis!’ but it was a vain cry; not only did she not know where he was, but even had she known he would not have been able to help her.

With each passing second the stern of the broken vessel lurched higher above the surface of the water, bringing choruses of screams from the terrified passengers. And with each lurch dozens lost their footing on the steeply inclining decks and fell. Abbie watched as men, women and children, accompanied by a welter of umbrellas and baskets and bags, slid down the steeply slanting deck towards the broken centre that now lay beneath the water. It was a scene of utter terror and pandemonium. As people lost their footing they grabbed at others and dragged them down with them. In front of Abbie a man slipped on the sloping deck, and as he fell he reached out, clutching blindly, and his grasping hand snatched at the skirt of a young woman who, holding a child in her arms, was clinging to the rail at Abbie’s side. The next moment the woman had lost her grip and her balance and, with her child rolling from her arms, was sliding screaming down the deck towards the deadly chasm below.

‘Arthur! Arthur!’

Abbie realized that the cry came from Jane who was holding on to the rail at her side. Looking to her right, Abbie saw Arthur gripping the rail several yards away. Above the noise of the screams he had no chance of hearing Jane’s voice, though it was clear he knew where she and Abbie were, for he looked over and mouthed some unintelligible words. He could not move towards them, however, for the moment he loosed his hold on the rail he would slide down the deck.

Two or three lucky men, Abbie saw, had grabbed at the anchor chain of the
Bywell Castle
and managed to climb up it to the safety of the collier’s deck. It was terrifyingly clear to her, however, that she and the hundreds of others remaining on the
Alice
would have to take their chances in the water, for the outcome of the collision was inevitable. Already, scores were in the river, struggling, mouths open as they cried out, reaching up with their hands, snatching wildly at each other for salvation. Above Abbie’s head the remaining lifeboat swung in the davits, useless without the time or expertise to get it into the water.

She did not know what to do. She only knew that death was certain if she remained where she was, for she was sure that at any moment the broken halves of the vessel would sink beneath the surface. Turning to Jane, she shrieked above the din, ‘Jane – we must jump!’

Without waiting for a response she hitched up her skirt as high as she could and clambered over the rail. Holding on tightly with her right hand she pulled off her shawl and let it fall. She could do nothing about the weight of the rest of her clothing, and it did no good to curse the corsets and drapery that fashion demanded should be worn by the well-dressed woman.

She gripped the rail. She had never been so afraid in her life. Her heart thudding in her breast she looked out over the water, seeking a clear space; there were so many people floundering beneath her that it would be difficult to jump in without striking someone. But if she was to survive she had no choice but to make the attempt, and she could not afford to wait. Briefly turning her head to her left, she saw that many others, Jane among them, were also preparing to leap into the water. It was now or never. Taking a deep breath, she let go of the rail and jumped, propelling herself as far from the stricken vessel as she could.

As she struck the water the shock of its coldness took her breath away. She went under at once. Although the time she was beneath the surface lasted only seconds, it seemed to her an age and she thought she would never come up again. In moments, however, she had resurfaced, gulping at the air and spitting the vile-tasting river water from her mouth.

Although she was a relatively strong swimmer the present situation was far removed from those carefree times at the Flaxdown clay pit. Then she had swum free and unhampered. Now she found that the heavy weight of her water-sodden clothes was threatening to drag her under. Surrounded by other terror-stricken people, she turned just in time to see Jane fall and hit the water with a great splash about five or six yards to her left. At once, as fast as her leaden clothing would allow, she struggled towards her. As she did so, drowning people reached out, clutching at her. She evaded them, knowing that in spite of her wishes to see them saved they would only drag her down.

With great relief she saw Jane surface just in front of her, spluttering and gasping for breath. But as she reached her side Jane began to sink again. Desperately Abbie lunged forward. Jane’s hat had come off and Abbie just managed to catch her by her hair. Quickly transferring her grip to hold her beneath the arms, Abbie turned in the water and, supporting her as best she could, began to swim with all her strength away from the boat.

Jane, Abbie knew, was not nearly as strong a swimmer as she herself. She also knew that unless help came soon they were both doomed. They could not stay afloat for long; not only were her own water-sodden clothes dragging her down, but Jane was very heavy in her grasp and seemed unable to do much to help.

Looking back towards the broken vessel, Abbie saw that it was sinking fast; the after section had settled back into the water and the lower deck was now only a few feet above the surface. She watched as the funnels were submerged and saw a great burst of steam come up. Then suddenly the whole of the after section began to turn in the water, rolling over completely. As it did so it pitched its remaining passengers screaming into the river. For some moments the keel of the hull was visible, but then that too vanished as the after part subsided and sank out of sight. Seconds later the fore section of the boat followed the same pattern, first toppling over and then vanishing beneath the surface. Not more than six minutes had passed since the collision, but now there was no longer any sign of the pleasure steamer except for the pieces of floating wreckage that strewed the river’s surface and the shrieking people who struggled to stay afloat.

‘Leave me . . .’

Abbie realized that the words had come from Jane.

‘Leave you?’ she gasped. ‘No . . . no . . .’

‘Leave me,’ Jane cried again, choking as water filled her mouth. ‘Save yourself!’

‘Hush!’ Abbie gasped. ‘Don’t talk. Save your breath.’

The exchange of words somehow seemed to give Abbie greater strength, and she forged on, swallowing water and gasping with the effort of supporting herself and Jane, but nevertheless making progress.

Abbie had already seen that both banks of the river were too far away to think of swimming to. Even without Jane she could not have managed it. Her only hope was to try to get help from the collier or some other river craft. Looking towards the
Bywell Castle
, she saw that a number of ropes had been thrown over her sides, and that some lucky few were managing to cling to them. Renewing her grasp on Jane, she forced herself on through the water.

The distance to the side of the collier was not more than forty yards and under different circumstances the swim would have presented Abbie with no difficulties. As it was, however, it seemed to take for ever and at times she felt that she would never get there. Not only was her way strewn with wreckage and desperate, struggling bodies, but she had Jane to support and drag along with her. To make her task even harder, the weight of her clothing seemed to grow greater by the second. Added to this, the narrow, sheath-like style of her skirt hampered the movement of her legs, so that it took all her strength and effort to make headway. And all through her struggles the evening air rang out with the piteous cries of dying people. Time and again she saw men, women and small children sink before her eyes; there was nothing she could do to help any of them.

She reached the side of the collier with what she felt was her last breath. There was a rope nearby with a man and a woman clinging to it. With a great effort she lunged towards it. But even as she did so, two men swam up, reached out for the rope and clung on, leaving no room for Jane and herself. But then, a moment later, just when she began to feel that they must surely die, there was a shout from the deck above and another rope came snaking down to hit the water with a splash only inches from her head.

Quickly she snatched at it with one hand, grasped it tightly and cried out to Jane, ‘There’s a rope here! Hold on to it. Help will be here soon.’

Next moment they were both holding fast to the rope, to be joined almost immediately by a man who swam up and grasped it above Abbie’s clutching hands.

Hanging on to the rope, Abbie saw before her the continuing spectacle of people drowning. Wherever she looked she could see them floundering and thrashing in the water, their mouths opening wide as they screamed and shouted to the skies. A few feet away a woman appeared, struggling to reach the ropes that hung from the deck of the
Bywell Castle
, In one arm she held a child. With a lurch forward she thrust the infant before her, at the same time crying out, ‘Save my baby! Oh, save my baby!’ Releasing one hand from the rope, Abbie snatched at the babe, managing to grasp it by its clothing. As she did so the child’s mother lifted her head and blood spewed out of her mouth. The next moment she had gone down beneath the surface of the water. In Abbie’s grasp the tiny child hung limp as a rag doll. She clutched it closer to her and looked down into its face, and saw its death-dulled little eyes turned unseeing up towards the darkening sky. With a groan she released her grip on the dead little burden and watched it sink out of sight.

Although the water still teemed with people, Abbie realized that the numbers were growing smaller with each passing second. So many had already drowned. She became aware too that the cries were fading, growing fainter as one by one the victims gave up their struggles and slipped beneath the waves. Only minutes ago they had been there in their hundreds. Now most had disappeared from sight, the only sign that they had ever existed in the vast number of hats, bonnets, umbrellas and bags that covered the river’s surface.

Lit by the moon and by lanterns, boats began to appear – boats that had pushed off from the banks almost within seconds of the collision. Among them Abbie saw a barge, its crew pulling survivors on board. Then, as she and Jane hung on to the rope, waiting, there came a voice hailing them and they saw a dinghy approaching, one man at the oars and another leaning forward in the prow. Soon the little craft was beside them and the man in the prow was bending and hauling Jane into the boat. Abbie followed, and afterwards the man who had been holding on to the rope with them. Then, laden with its wet and shuddering burden, the little vessel set off for the southern bank.

Side by side in the centre of the dinghy, Abbie and Jane sat huddled together, Abbie’s arm round Jane’s shoulders. As she turned, looking back over the dark water, the thought came to her of how swiftly things could change. Only a dozen short minutes ago there had been a pleasure boat there on the river, the
Princess Alice
, her decks swarming with more than eight hundred happy people – talking, laughing, singing and dancing. Now the
Princess Alice
lay in pieces at the bottom of the river, along with most of her passengers and crew.

Abbie tightened her hold around Jane and turned away, setting her face towards the nearing river bank. She felt Jane shudder in her arms and heard her murmur on a little choking sob, ‘Arthur . . . Emma . . . Where are they?’

Abbie closed her eyes as the thoughts and the questions churned in her brain. Where indeed were they? And where was Louis? And where too were Iris and Alfred?

Chapter Thirty-Seven

As the dinghy reached the wharf on the southern side of the river, the smaller and younger of the two men leaped out and secured the painter. At the same time the older man turned to Abbie and asked whether she could walk unaided. Shivering uncontrollably, teeth chattering, she replied that she could. ‘Though I’m not sure about my friend,’ she added.

‘Right.’ He nodded and called to his companion, ‘Let’s get this young lady out first, shall we?’

While the smaller man steadied the boat, the other stooped and gathered Jane up into his arms. The vessel rocked as he did so, but he rode out the moments of pitching and carried her onto the wharf. He stood there then while the younger man first helped Abbie onto the shore and then the young male survivor.

Standing, so thankfully, once more on firm ground, Abbie turned and looked out over the moonlit waters of the river. By the lamps that burned on her decks she could easily make out the tall shape of the
Bywell Castle
riding at anchor close to the scene of the collision. And there also was the
Duke of Teck
, the pleasure steamer that had followed the
Alice
upriver, now doing what she could to save survivors. Abbie could also see the dark shapes of smaller boats and barges moving about in continuing rescue efforts. How different now was the sound emanating from the scene. The screams of people thrashing about in the water had gone, and now only the distant voices of the rescuers could be heard.