towards him.
“He has a point,” said Thomas.
Hugh nodded to the bridge above. Stern-faced sailors gathered behind the glass. They stood and listened to another sailor, then rushed in different directions.
“That doesn’t look good,” said Hugh. “Perhaps that iceberg damaged the ship.”
“Yes, but it will only slow us down. Remember, the
Titanic
is unsinkable.” The words sounded thin and hollow to Thomas.
A sailor ran to the ship’s rail and leaned over the edge. He gave a low whistle.
“Excuse me.” Thomas was surprised at the tremor in his voice. “That iceberg …”
The sailor turned, his brow furrowed. “Where are your families, boys?”
“Our fathers are in the smoking room and our mothers and sisters have retired,” said Hugh.
“Then I suggest you collect your fathers and go to your mothers’ cabins. At once.”
“Did the iceberg hit?” asked Hugh.
The sailor stepped closer to them and lowered his voice. “Mind you go calmly, boys. There’s to be no panic.” He jogged back to the stairs.
Fear swooped in Thomas’s stomach. The soccer players continued to whistle and cheer.
“Shall we go?’ said Hugh. He smiled, but his eyes had none of their usual sparkle.
Despite the fear nibbling inside Thomas, he couldn’t believe anything serious could happen to the
Titanic
. “How about we visit steerage first. What harm could it do?’
Hugh’s frowned, as though he was trying to make up his mind. “How about we speak to our fathers and then go to steerage?”
Thomas looked back at the bridge. “I suppose. But then we go straight to steerage.”
32
EVE GILMORE
Old friends are better than new ones
Old faces are always the best –
But a heart that battles with sorrow
,
Is better than all the rest
.
Alice Evelyn Gilmore, RMS
Titanic
, 12/04/1912
With the cabin door ajar, I dressed in my blouse, shirt and boots. Mother and Bea didn’t stir, even though I twice stumbled into the wall. I wrapped my shawl around my shoulders, crept into the passage and ran to the stairwell, taking two stairs at a time to the promenade deck.
The air pricked my face like icy needle points. I gathered the shawl to my cheeks and went first to the port rail. Before me the ocean was smooth and the sky still black and covered with stars. On the deck a couple huddled on deckchairs, lost in their own company. Two other couples, about Mother and Father’s age, chatted near the first-class division. Everything appeared to be normal, and yet, something inside me screamed it was far from it.
Shivering, I trotted to the starboard side. The same black ocean, sky and stars, but no people. I returned to the stairwell, determined to explore forward of the ship, even if it meant going through first-class areas.
The people I passed were either too engrossed in conversation or in too much of a hurry to notice me. The few stewards I saw rushed by with determined faces. The covered first-class promenade was deserted. By the time I reached the open section overlooking the forecastle deck, my hands and face were burning with cold. I tucked my hands under my shawl and I leaned over the rail. Below, a steerage passenger kicked something. Others cheered. It took me a moment to realise their ball was in fact a lump of ice and their playing field was strewn with ice shards.
Beyond them several sailors leaned over the
Titanic
’s rail, peering into the darkness below.
I turned back the way I’d come, but this time I ran. I had to rouse Mother and Bea.
Monday, April 15, 1912
DAY SIX
33
THOMAS GILMORE
Thomas and Hugh peered through the open door into the smoking room. Father, Mr Worthington and two other gentlemen puffed cigars and sipped brandy.
A steward stepped in front of Hugh and Thomas. “Listen, laddies, this no place for children.”
“We’re here to see our fathers on an urgent matter,” said Hugh.
The steward’s eyes narrowed.
“The ship has stopped,” added Thomas. “A sailor told us to collect our
“He has a point,” said Thomas.
Hugh nodded to the bridge above. Stern-faced sailors gathered behind the glass. They stood and listened to another sailor, then rushed in different directions.
“That doesn’t look good,” said Hugh. “Perhaps that iceberg damaged the ship.”
“Yes, but it will only slow us down. Remember, the
Titanic
is unsinkable.” The words sounded thin and hollow to Thomas.
A sailor ran to the ship’s rail and leaned over the edge. He gave a low whistle.
“Excuse me.” Thomas was surprised at the tremor in his voice. “That iceberg …”
The sailor turned, his brow furrowed. “Where are your families, boys?”
“Our fathers are in the smoking room and our mothers and sisters have retired,” said Hugh.
“Then I suggest you collect your fathers and go to your mothers’ cabins. At once.”
“Did the iceberg hit?” asked Hugh.
The sailor stepped closer to them and lowered his voice. “Mind you go calmly, boys. There’s to be no panic.” He jogged back to the stairs.
Fear swooped in Thomas’s stomach. The soccer players continued to whistle and cheer.
“Shall we go?’ said Hugh. He smiled, but his eyes had none of their usual sparkle.
Despite the fear nibbling inside Thomas, he couldn’t believe anything serious could happen to the
Titanic
. “How about we visit steerage first. What harm could it do?’
Hugh’s frowned, as though he was trying to make up his mind. “How about we speak to our fathers and then go to steerage?”
Thomas looked back at the bridge. “I suppose. But then we go straight to steerage.”
32
EVE GILMORE
Old friends are better than new ones
Old faces are always the best –
But a heart that battles with sorrow
,
Is better than all the rest
.
Alice Evelyn Gilmore, RMS
Titanic
, 12/04/1912
With the cabin door ajar, I dressed in my blouse, shirt and boots. Mother and Bea didn’t stir, even though I twice stumbled into the wall. I wrapped my shawl around my shoulders, crept into the passage and ran to the stairwell, taking two stairs at a time to the promenade deck.
The air pricked my face like icy needle points. I gathered the shawl to my cheeks and went first to the port rail. Before me the ocean was smooth and the sky still black and covered with stars. On the deck a couple huddled on deckchairs, lost in their own company. Two other couples, about Mother and Father’s age, chatted near the first-class division. Everything appeared to be normal, and yet, something inside me screamed it was far from it.
Shivering, I trotted to the starboard side. The same black ocean, sky and stars, but no people. I returned to the stairwell, determined to explore forward of the ship, even if it meant going through first-class areas.
The people I passed were either too engrossed in conversation or in too much of a hurry to notice me. The few stewards I saw rushed by with determined faces. The covered first-class promenade was deserted. By the time I reached the open section overlooking the forecastle deck, my hands and face were burning with cold. I tucked my hands under my shawl and I leaned over the rail. Below, a steerage passenger kicked something. Others cheered. It took me a moment to realise their ball was in fact a lump of ice and their playing field was strewn with ice shards.
Beyond them several sailors leaned over the
Titanic
’s rail, peering into the darkness below.
I turned back the way I’d come, but this time I ran. I had to rouse Mother and Bea.
Monday, April 15, 1912
DAY SIX
33
THOMAS GILMORE
Thomas and Hugh peered through the open door into the smoking room. Father, Mr Worthington and two other gentlemen puffed cigars and sipped brandy.
A steward stepped in front of Hugh and Thomas. “Listen, laddies, this no place for children.”
“We’re here to see our fathers on an urgent matter,” said Hugh.
The steward’s eyes narrowed.
“The ship has stopped,” added Thomas. “A sailor told us to collect our
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