Every Man for Himself - Beryl Bainbridge [71]
This time my help wasn’t welcome; there were at least six or seven members of the crew manoeuvring it into position. Ready to shift, they all climbed in, and at that moment a man and three women crossed out of the shadows and I heard Duff Gordon’s voice say, ‘May we get into the boat?’ and the rough reply, ‘If you must.’ I supposed two of the women to be Adele and the Strauses’ maid, but as I got closer I saw both were elderly. I called out to Lady Duff Gordon, asking what had happened to Adele, but already the boat was swinging away and she couldn’t have heard me. I shouted up to the officer to wait, for I had clearly seen there was room for thirty or more aboard, but he continued to work the ropes, bellowing at me to stand back; I guess he was under the impression that I was trying to save myself.
As the last life-boat on the starboard side dropped from sight, a great swoosh of smoke belched from the funnels and rubbed out the sky. When it had drifted on and the milky stars came back I heard the first gun-shot.
I was running in the direction of the report when Charlie came haring up.
‘Wallis wants you,’ he panted. ‘You must come and talk to her. She refuses to move unless you speak to her. Hopper tried to carry her off bodily but she kicked him. She’s frightfully squiffy.’
‘The shot,’ I said. ‘I heard a shot.’
‘There was a bit of a rumpus on the port side. Some of the men tried to rush the boats and the second officer fired over their heads. They were steerage passengers, of course.’
The men in the smoke-room were still playing cards. Ginsberg had gone. Hopper stood with his leg raised on a chair, scowling and rubbing at his shins. ‘You talk sense into her,’ he muttered. ‘She’s gone crazy.’
Wallis looked at me with glittering eyes. Such a look! Not crazy at all but ugly with suffering. I knew what was wrong with her without being told, as though her soul had flashed on mine. Pity welled up in me, and envy too, for I might never know the sort of love that gripped her by the throat.
‘Please,’ she croaked. ‘I must speak to him. You will find him, won’t you?’
‘I’ll try,’ I said. ‘But you must come on deck to be near the boats.’
‘I can’t move,’ she said.
‘I know,’ I soothed. ‘Charlie will carry you.’
I didn’t look for Scurra. Not right away. There were more urgent matters to attend to, for when I came out on to the promenade there were at least a hundred people milling about the deck, shouting and shoving at each other in their attempts to get to a life-boat swaying at the rail. There were steerage passengers among them now; I caught sight of the priest with the nose and the boy with the hobby-horse. The officers were striking out with their feet at the men and hauling the women up like so many sacks. There was no thought in my mind of going back for Wallis; it would have been well-nigh impossible for Charlie to get her through such a crush. Hopper and I fought our way to the front and once there stood shoulder to shoulder, heaving the men aside and passing the women and children into the arms of the officer who knelt on the gunwale. Fists punched my face but I scarcely felt the blows.
This time there was no question of the boat going away half filled; seventy or more, mostly women, and some of those standing, made that lurching descent. They had almost reached the sea when something went wrong with the tackle and the ropes jammed – then she was nearly swamped by a jet of water propelled from the ship’s waste pipe. A wail of terror gushed up. I had a good view of the whole desperate scene, for the moment the boat had begun to drop the crowd had fled further along the deck to where the next one swung. Below, no