Every Man for Himself - Beryl Bainbridge [66]
Some of the men, myself included, climbed down the companionway, starboard side, to be closer to the boats in case we were needed. There were very few seamen about and only two officers, both grappling with the complicated machinery of the davits. We called out that we were willing to assist but they waved us away. The night was perfectly still, save for our footfalls, the low murmur of voices and the crackle of canvas as the boat covers were trampled over. Astor paced alone, the tiny glow of his cigarette arching through the air as he flung it overboard. I remember Charlie talked to me about cricket. Above, a million stars sprinkled the heavens.
Some fifteen minutes later, nothing having been accomplished on our part of the deck, Hopper and I went round to the port side. Here, we saw one boat, free of its tackle, being lowered towards the rail. Suddenly there was a flash of light from the forward deck, a hissing whoosh sufficient to turn the stomach over as a rocket soared to meet the stars. Up, up it went, and we craned our heads to watch it go, until, exploding with a report that tore the night in two, illuminating for one stark instant the fretwork of wires upon the tapering mast, it sent its own stars sailing down. The women and children on the bridge clapped their hands in wonder at the pretty sight; we men could scarce look at one another, recognising it for a desperate measure.
Mrs Brown’s voice floated down from the bridge, ‘I wish you would make up your minds. We were told to come up here,’ and at that the crowd began to move inside again. Hopper and I hurried through the gymnasium doors and made our way below to meet them.
Jerkily, the boats were being lowered alongside the windows of the enclosed promenade of A deck. Someone had to fetch a chisel to crank up the glass. Mr Carter said the list of the ship had meant the boats hung too far out from the top rail for the women to enter safely. An officer thrust steamer chairs through the windows; when the nearest boat was level, he climbed out, one foot on the chair, one foot on the gunwale. There was no panic or undue excitement until he ordered the men to stand back from the women and children. Then, several of the women began to blub. Mr Carter challenged him, at which he bellowed, ‘Women and children first.’
To a man we obeyed him. Ida clung to my arm, whimpering Wallis’s name, but I shook her off and gave her into the charge of Mrs Brown. A young woman carrying a baby refused to leave her husband, but he said she ought because of the child. ‘There’s nothing to worry about,’ he told her. ‘I’ll be on the next boat, sure thing.’ Mrs Straus was being led to the window when she stopped and said, ‘I’m not going without Mr Straus.’ Someone, Theyer I think, asked the officer if an exception couldn’t be made for such a revered and elderly man? Whereupon, Straus turned away, remarking he would not take advantage of his age. Mrs Straus, dragged a further few steps, broke free and stumbled to his side. ‘We shall stay together, old dear,’ she said. ‘As we have lived, so will we die.’ This remark, though noble in sentiment, convinced the woman with the baby that she was parting from her own husband for ever. Shrieking, she attempted to clamber out of the boat and was pushed back by the officer. The infant set up a thin howl. Mr and Mrs Straus strolled a little way off and sat in steamer chairs, watching the proceedings as though from the stalls of a theatre.
Remembering my promise, I went inside to look for Wallis. I passed through