Every Man for Himself - Beryl Bainbridge [55]
He didn’t ask for my decision; I reckon he knew that I would jump at the chance. Instead he told me how his own career had begun at Harland and Wolff. His first three months were spent in the joiners’ shop, the month after with the cabinet-makers, the one following working in ships. Then a further three months in the main store; five with the shipwrights, two in the moulding loft, two with the painters, eight with the iron shipwrights, six with the fitters, three with the pattern-makers, eight with the smiths. A spell of eighteen months in the drawing sheds completed his five years as an apprentice.
I must admit my heart sank at this litany of hard labour. There was worse to come. He had undergone a rigorous course of night studies in order to gain a knowledge of machine and freehand drawing, applied mechanics and the theory of naval architecture. He had read until his eyeballs seemed to have been rolled in sand. Soon after his twentieth birthday he was given the supervision of construction work on the Mystic, represented the firm at the trials of the Gothic, went to Liverpool to report on the damage done to the Lycia and helped in the renovation of the Germanic. ‘If you wish to succeed, Morgan,’ he said, ‘you must think while others sleep, read while others play.’
‘I will,’ I said. ‘I will. I want to. I’ve already thought of a way of converting part of the writing room while conserving certain features. It should be possible to—’ but before I could explain fully we were interrupted by an urgent knocking.
He went out into the vestibule and opened the door to Bruce Ismay. I couldn’t hear every word they said. Ismay seemed to be complaining that the ship wasn’t going fast enough. Smith had apparently had the ship’s course altered earlier that morning. We were now slightly to the south and west of the normal course which would result in further delay.
I got up to read that framed writing on the mantel-shelf. If it was a prayer it was pretty self-congratulatory.
Of all who live, I am the one by whom
This work can best be done in my own way.
Then shall I see it not too great nor small,
To suit my spirit and to prove my powers.
Then shall I cheerfully greet the labouring hours,
And cheerful turn, when the long shadows fall
At eventide, to play, and love, and rest,
Because I know for me my work is best.
It was the last four words that had been underlined.
I heard Andrews say, ‘You yourself showed me a wireless message from the Greek steamer Athenai reporting large quantities of field ice in latitude 41° 51 north and longitude 52° west.’
‘There’s always ice at this time of year,’ Ismay said. ‘Damn it all, this is a maiden voyage,’ and then both voices grew heated. I gathered they were arguing about the importance of arriving Tuesday rather than Wednesday.
‘Take it up with Smith,’ Andrews shouted. ‘He’s in command,’ and with that there was a muffled grunt from Ismay and the door banged shut behind him.
Andrews returned looking irritated. He sat down at his desk and took up his pencil. He appeared to have forgotten I was there.
‘The writing room—’ I began.
‘You’ll find the relevant plans on the sideboard in the vestibule,’ he said. ‘I imagine you’ll find it convenient to work in situ,’ and with that I was dismissed.
I surprised myself with the quantity of work I managed to get done before tea-time. I had in mind a structure similar to a stage set, rooms within an existing room, complete with false ceilings. In this way it would not be necessary to tear down the main ceiling or damage the splendid panels inlaid with mother of pearl that graced the writing room. The scheme had the added advantage of being relatively simple to dismantle should the time come when the original space needed to be restored. I felt