was just about as rough as the tender,” said Hugh.
Thomas regained his balance and frowned. “Has she stalled?”
Hugh shook his head. “I declare she’s going backwards, no, she’s turning.”
A sharp cry rang through the frigid air. “Iceberg!”
“Here’s sport,” said Hugh, and squinted hard into the blackness. “Can’t see a thing, can you?”
At that moment the giant shape became visible.
Thomas felt his mouth drop open.
“Bloody hell,” said Hugh, drawing out each word. “That thing is monstrous.”
The girl who they’d seen on the forecastle deck screamed. “We’re going to hit!”
Thomas was unable to tear his eyes away from the sight. The ship kept turning. Did he imagine it, or were panicked voices coming from behind him on the bridge?
“She’ll miss for sure,” said Hugh, but Thomas could hear the fear in his voice.
Behind them someone called out, “We’re clear.”
As Thomas breathed out, a scraping, ripping sound filled the air and ice shards smashed to the deck. The
Titanic
gave the slightest shudder.
“Look at the size of those pieces,” said Hugh. He pushed aside one that was as big as his boot.
Thomas glanced at the ice but continued to stare at the iceberg. It glided along the starboard side of the boat, shining bright in the
Titanic
’s lights.
Several young men from steerage rushed towards Thomas and Hugh. One bumped into Thomas, tearing his attention from the massive iceberg. The steerage fellows kicked a chunk of ice between them as though it was soccer ball.
“Fancy a game?” asked the taller one.
But Thomas was frozen to the spot. “The ship’s stopped.”
30
EVE GILMORE
We live but in the present
,
The future is unknown;
Tomorrow is a mystery
,
Today is all our own
.
Father James Hyland, Southampton, 8/04/1912
I woke with a start and sat up in bed, banging my head on the ceiling. Now, as well as a racing heart and a sweaty back, my head hurt. I listened hard to Mother and Bea’s deep, regular breathing. I lay down again, convinced I’d been woken by another bad dream and basked in the silence. As I rolled onto my side, I froze. Where was the distant hum of the
Titanic
’s engines?
I eased out from between the sheets, lowered myself to the floor and snatched up my shawl. With slow, steady steps, I crept to the door and opened it. The passageway was empty. And quiet.
I crept across to Father and Thomas’s cabin and rapped on the door. Silence. I knocked louder, but still no response.
A steward hurried down the passageway.
“Excuse me,” I asked. “Do you have the time?”
His frown deepened, as though I had asked him the most difficult question. He consulted his fob watch then snapped it shut. “It’s a quarter to midnight, miss.” He hurried on towards the stairs.
“Is everything all right?” I called after him.
“Oh, yes, miss. Nothing to worry about. Go back to bed.”
“But the engines have stopped.”
“Return to your cabin, miss. You’ll be informed if there’s a problem.” He disappeared around a corner.
I stared at the space where he had been for a moment, then hurried back to our cabin, but not to sleep. I needed to dress and investigate for myself.
31
THOMAS GILMORE
Though the
Titanic
had stopped, a growing number of men from third class kicked a chunk of ice around the deck. They laughed and cheered, hipping and shouldering each other out of the way in the crush for the ice ball.
“News travels fast on a ship,” said Thomas. He was desperate to hide the unease churning in his belly from Hugh.
“Thomas.” Hugh had to yell to be heard over the ice-soccer cheers and jeers. “Perhaps it would be prudent to ask a steward if there is a problem.”
“Don’t be daft, boy,” said the soccer player closest to them. The man’s undershirt was rolled to his elbows, despite the cold. “What problem could an iceberg cause this magnificent ship?” The man ran forwards to meet the diminishing ice ball sliding
Thomas regained his balance and frowned. “Has she stalled?”
Hugh shook his head. “I declare she’s going backwards, no, she’s turning.”
A sharp cry rang through the frigid air. “Iceberg!”
“Here’s sport,” said Hugh, and squinted hard into the blackness. “Can’t see a thing, can you?”
At that moment the giant shape became visible.
Thomas felt his mouth drop open.
“Bloody hell,” said Hugh, drawing out each word. “That thing is monstrous.”
The girl who they’d seen on the forecastle deck screamed. “We’re going to hit!”
Thomas was unable to tear his eyes away from the sight. The ship kept turning. Did he imagine it, or were panicked voices coming from behind him on the bridge?
“She’ll miss for sure,” said Hugh, but Thomas could hear the fear in his voice.
Behind them someone called out, “We’re clear.”
As Thomas breathed out, a scraping, ripping sound filled the air and ice shards smashed to the deck. The
Titanic
gave the slightest shudder.
“Look at the size of those pieces,” said Hugh. He pushed aside one that was as big as his boot.
Thomas glanced at the ice but continued to stare at the iceberg. It glided along the starboard side of the boat, shining bright in the
Titanic
’s lights.
Several young men from steerage rushed towards Thomas and Hugh. One bumped into Thomas, tearing his attention from the massive iceberg. The steerage fellows kicked a chunk of ice between them as though it was soccer ball.
“Fancy a game?” asked the taller one.
But Thomas was frozen to the spot. “The ship’s stopped.”
30
EVE GILMORE
We live but in the present
,
The future is unknown;
Tomorrow is a mystery
,
Today is all our own
.
Father James Hyland, Southampton, 8/04/1912
I woke with a start and sat up in bed, banging my head on the ceiling. Now, as well as a racing heart and a sweaty back, my head hurt. I listened hard to Mother and Bea’s deep, regular breathing. I lay down again, convinced I’d been woken by another bad dream and basked in the silence. As I rolled onto my side, I froze. Where was the distant hum of the
Titanic
’s engines?
I eased out from between the sheets, lowered myself to the floor and snatched up my shawl. With slow, steady steps, I crept to the door and opened it. The passageway was empty. And quiet.
I crept across to Father and Thomas’s cabin and rapped on the door. Silence. I knocked louder, but still no response.
A steward hurried down the passageway.
“Excuse me,” I asked. “Do you have the time?”
His frown deepened, as though I had asked him the most difficult question. He consulted his fob watch then snapped it shut. “It’s a quarter to midnight, miss.” He hurried on towards the stairs.
“Is everything all right?” I called after him.
“Oh, yes, miss. Nothing to worry about. Go back to bed.”
“But the engines have stopped.”
“Return to your cabin, miss. You’ll be informed if there’s a problem.” He disappeared around a corner.
I stared at the space where he had been for a moment, then hurried back to our cabin, but not to sleep. I needed to dress and investigate for myself.
31
THOMAS GILMORE
Though the
Titanic
had stopped, a growing number of men from third class kicked a chunk of ice around the deck. They laughed and cheered, hipping and shouldering each other out of the way in the crush for the ice ball.
“News travels fast on a ship,” said Thomas. He was desperate to hide the unease churning in his belly from Hugh.
“Thomas.” Hugh had to yell to be heard over the ice-soccer cheers and jeers. “Perhaps it would be prudent to ask a steward if there is a problem.”
“Don’t be daft, boy,” said the soccer player closest to them. The man’s undershirt was rolled to his elbows, despite the cold. “What problem could an iceberg cause this magnificent ship?” The man ran forwards to meet the diminishing ice ball sliding
Similar Books
