12
“Very serious,” said Mr Andrews. “The iceberg punched a hole in the starboard side of the ship. Water is coming in. The front five compartments are already flooded beneath the waterline.”
“We have closed all the watertight doors,” said the captain. “Do you think the ship can stay afloat?”
Mr Andrews paused for a long time before replying. “No,” he said at last. “Two hours from now the Titanic will be at the bottom of the sea.”
When we heard that, Omar and I both gasped out loud.
Captain Smith and Mr Andrews heard the sound. They peered over the side of the lifeboat and saw us crouching there.
“I don’t know what you’re doing in that boat, boys,” said the captain, “but if you want to live, you’ll stay exactly where you are.” He turned to the ship builder. “Mr Andrews, we must tell the crew to prepare the lifeboats!”
Mr Andrews paled. “Captain, the Titanic has twenty lifeboats. That is only enough for half of the passengers.”
“I know,” said Captain Smith grimly.
As Captain Smith strode back to the bridge and took command, Omar turned and looked at me, his eyes as big as saucers.
“Did I hear him right, Jimmy? Did he just say that the Titanic is going to sink? And that there are only enough lifeboats for half of us?”
I couldn’t speak. I could hardly believe my ears. This ship was a floating palace. It seemed so safe and solid. Could it really all end up at the bottom of the sea?
“We’ve got to get out of here,” said Omar. “We need to warn our families.”
We clambered out of the lifeboat, barged through the nearest door and ran down the Grand Staircase three steps at a time. There was no point staying hidden now. First class, third class, none of that stuff mattered any more. Getting to our families was all we cared about.
A group of gentlemen and ladies were coming up the stairs towards us. They sprang aside as we charged past, and one of the men reached out and grabbed me.
It was the American millionaire, Mr Astor.
“Take it easy, buddy,” he said. “Why the hurry?”
“Sir, the ship is sinking,” I gasped. “They’re preparing the lifeboats. You need to go up to the boat deck straight away, sir.”
The people around Mr Astor laughed and shook their heads, but he himself did not laugh. “Thank you,” he said gravely, and let go of my arm.
We dashed through the first-class dining room and the pantry, and down the stewards’ stairs to Scotland Road.
“We should split up,” I told Omar. “You go to the bow and warn your family. I’ll go to the stern and warn mine. Tell everyone you meet to find a lifejacket and go up on deck fast.”
Omar nodded and dashed off along the corridor.
I ran towards the back of the ship, but Scotland Road was blocked by a metal barrier that hadn’t been there before. It had no lock, no handle, nothing. I hit it with my fist but it was completely solid.
A steward came out into the corridor and saw me thumping the barrier. “You can’t move it,’ he said. ‘It’s a watertight door. Nothing to worry about, son. I’m sure it will open again soon.”
“No, it won’t,” I told him. “The ship is sinking. We need to find a way through this door and wake everyone up.”
The steward didn’t believe me. Either that or he was too shocked to reply. He just stood there scratching his head and staring at the watertight door.”
“What about D Deck?” I asked him. “Are there watertight doors up there as well?”
He shook his head. “Only on this deck and below.”
I headed back up the stewards’ stairs, turned left and ran through the first-class pantry, the galley and the second-class dining room. Nobody was here. The second-class passengers had already gone to bed.
There was a big brass bell attached to the dining room wall. I realized that this was the bell the head waiter rang at mealtimes, letting people know it was time to come and eat.
A bell was just what I needed right now, to raise the alarm in third class on my way to fetch my family. I flicked open my penknife and used it to undo the screws that held the bell bracket in place. As soon as the screws were loose, I pulled the whole thing off the wall.
“Hey, you!” A waiter hurried towards me, scowling darkly. “That bell is part of the furnishings. You’re not supposed to—”
“The ship is sinking,” I stammered. “Ask the officers if you don’t believe me. You need to get everybody up onto the boat deck, fast.”
Something about the expression on my face must have convinced the waiter that I was telling the truth.
“You in third class?” he asked.
“All right, you go down there, I’ll go to second class.”
We ran past the butcher shop and along the second-class corridor. The waiter started knocking on cabin doors, and I carried on running all the way to the staircase.
I took the steps three at a time, down, down, down into the belly of the ship, ringing the bell like crazy. As I reached G deck I stopped dead. The corridor ahead of me was an inch deep in murky water. It lapped gently from one side of the corridor to the other.
“Emergency!” I yelled. “Everybody up on deck! Bring your lifejackets!”
I took a deep breath and stepped down into the flooded corridor. Icy water seeped through the seams of my old shoes and enveloped my toes. I gasped at the shock of it.
Still ringing the bell, I splashed my way along the corridor as fast as I could. Sleepy passengers were wandering out of their cabins, awoken by my shouts. They rubbed their eyes and stared down in disbelief at the freezing water that swirled and eddied at their feet.
“Get up on deck!” I told them. “The ship is going down.”
When I reached my cabin I yanked the door open and a gush of water flooded out over my feet.
“Mam! Ralph! Wake up!” I yelled, switching on the light.