Titanic Page 2

  ‘Welcome to the Titanic’s crew, Billy,’ he said. ‘You are now an employee of the White Star Line, a fine company and the owners of the greatest ship the world has ever seen. It will be the making of you, I’m sure.’

  Over the next few days Billy was instructed in his duties by Mr McElroy, who had plenty of patience, and some of the senior stewards, who had a lot less. He was kitted out with his uniform too, and Ma was impressed by the military-style black trousers, smart red jacket and pillbox hat. But his sisters howled with laughter, and Billy himself thought it would take some getting used to.

  He also met the other bellboys. There were ten altogether, most of them decent lads. One, however, was the boy Billy had briefly sat next to on the day he’d got the job. George Anderson was a couple of years older than the rest of them, a big, solid lad with slicked-back black hair. He was very cocky, and had clearly decided that he didn’t like Billy Fleming.

  Things came to a head on the day Mr McElroy took the bellboys out to the Titanic. The hull had been launched a year ago, and now, less than a week before sea trials, the ship was tied up in the outer dock and accessible only by boat. Billy felt excited as he sat with the other boys in the dinghy. It chugged across the choppy waters, the great ship looming over them, its four funnels outlined against the clear sky, its smooth side a seventy-foot steel cliff.

  Suddenly he felt someone cuff his head from behind. His pillbox hat flew off and landed at his feet, and he snatched it up just before it rolled into a pool of dirty water in the dinghy’s bilges. Mr McElroy was standing in the bows and looked round at that moment. ‘Be careful with that hat, Billy,’ he said. ‘You’ll have to pay for it out of your wages if you lose it.’

  Billy quickly put his hat back on. ‘Aye sir,’ he said. ‘I’ll be sure to look after it.’

  Mr McElroy turned his gaze forwards again, and Billy looked round to see who had knocked off his hat. George Anderson was sitting directly behind him, his arms folded and a smug grin on his face. The other lads laughed and nudged each other. ‘I’ll be sure to look after it, sir,’ George whispered so Mr McElroy wouldn’t hear, mocking Billy in a sing-song voice. ‘Aye sir, no sir, three bags full, sir.’ There was more laughter, the hissing of suppressed giggles.

  Billy scowled, but just then the dinghy arrived at the Titanic, clunking against a small platform. A ladder rose from it to a gangway in the hull about thirty feet up. Billy climbed with the others and soon found himself standing at one end of a long corridor inside the great ship. Men bustled past and in and out of the doors lining the corridor, hurrying to get the interior finished. ‘Follow me, boys,’ said Mr McElroy, and he strode off.

  The Chief Purser gave them the full tour of what seemed like a floating city. They started in the depths, in the engine room with its vast boilers and gleaming machinery and giant coal bunkers. Engineers swarmed everywhere, checking pipes and tapping dials, and stokers shovelled coal into the furnaces, ready for the moment when the order would be given to raise steam. From there Mr McElroy took them to see the stores, colossal holds filled with all sorts of supplies for the voyage – thousands of crates and barrels and sacks.

  They used the utility stairwells – narrow metal stairs meant for the crew – to move up through the ship, and passed through the third-class accommodation, barely stopping to take in the low-ceilinged dark spaces with their stacks of bunks. Mr McElroy hurried them past the second-class cabins, which were nicer, and more comfortable, than Billy’s home and those of his friends.

  The first-class cabins and staterooms, however, were something else. Billy had never seen anything like them in his life. A few were enormous, more like the rooms of a great castle or mansion than cabins on a ship. They were all luxuriously fitted out as well, with their own bathrooms and lavatories – no one Billy knew even had a bathroom in their house, let alone a toilet.

  ‘Now, boys,’ said Mr McElroy, ‘I want you to remember at all times that you’ll be serving people who can afford this kind of accommodation. They’ll be first-class passengers and they’ll expect first-class service.’

  ‘Are we not allowed to help other passengers, sir?’ said Billy.

  ‘Don’t be daft,’ said George. ‘Why would you want to?’

  Some of the boys sniggered, but stopped when they saw Mr McElroy’s frown. ‘I doubt you’ll have time, Billy. The first-class passengers will keep you pretty busy. And you won’t often see anybody from the other classes – the ship has been designed so they’re unlikely to meet each other.’

  Billy couldn’t help thinking that if he and Ma and the girls were emigrating, they’d probably have to travel in third class with the poor people. Mr McElroy had already shown the boys their cabin for the voyage – a cramped space in the crew quarters near the bows, just above more third-class accommodation. What gave rich people the right to sleep in luxury cabins? Billy knew the answer, of course. The difference was money. Rich people could buy anything.

  ‘What about tips, sir?’ said George. ‘They’re allowed, aren’t they?’

  ‘You’re not allowed to ask for a tip,’ Mr McElroy said sternly. ‘But you can accept one if it’s offered. Right, now there’s a little more for you to see…’

  Mr McElroy led them off again. He showed them the Grand Staircase, the amazing entrance, like something in a palace, that only first-class passengers could use, and pointed out the enormous chandelier hanging from the ceiling high above them, although it would have been pretty hard to miss, Billy thought. They visited the Parisian Café and the first-class restaurant and finally made their way on deck.

  The sun was shining, and Billy stood at the handrail, gazing at the shipyard and the narrow streets of Belfast in the near distance, the glittering sea far below him, the misty Mountains of Mourne beyond.

  ‘Right, wait here for me lads,’ said Mr McElroy. ‘I just need to pick up some papers from my office, then we can go back down to the dinghy.’

  He strode off again and the boys relaxed, laughing and joking with each other. Billy glanced at the bridge. He noticed a couple of uniformed officers up there, and realised that the one with a white beard was Captain Smith – he’d seen a picture of him in a newspaper.

  Then somebody pushed Billy in the back.

  It was George, of course. Billy whipped round and glared.

  ‘I wouldn’t stand too close to that handrail if I were you, Billy,’ said George. ‘You might trip and fall over. It’s a long way down, so it is.’

  George was grinning, hands on his hips, performing for the other boys. They gathered round as boys do, hoping for trouble, maybe a fight.

  Billy clenched his fists and squared up to George. He’d had enough of being pushed around and laughed at and knew there was only one way to end it.

  ‘Oh, so you want to make something of it?’ said George, his grin broadening.

  Billy was about to hit him – but glanced up at the bridge once more and saw Captain Smith staring down. Billy lowered his fists. How could he get into a fight with the Captain watching? It would be a sure way to lose his job.

  ‘Leave me alone, Anderson,’ Billy said and walked off, pushing past.

  ‘Yellow belly!’ George said. ‘I always knew you were a coward!’

  Billy kept right on walking, but he could feel his cheeks burning.

  Chapter Four

  Score One to Billy

  Billy was busy over the next few days, but he still found time to brood on what had happened. He just couldn’t get the scene beneath the ship’s bridge out of his mind – especially not the word George had used to describe him.

  Maybe he was a coward. He had ducked a fight, he had backed down in front of the other lads when he should have given George the pasting he deserved.

  Of course there had been a good reason – he really didn’t want to lose this job. But then perhaps he’d only gone for it in the first place because he was too much of a coward to work in the shipyard.

  Billy had been taught at Sunday School
that the dead looked down from Heaven on the living. He only hoped Da was keeping more of an eye on Ma and the girls than he was on him.

  The Titanic passed its sea trials and the day came when the great ship was due to set sail for Southampton. There it would be handed over officially to the White Star Line and the first passengers would come aboard for the maiden voyage.

  The shipyard was decorated with banners and bunting, and a great crowd had gathered in the early April sunshine to see the Titanic off. A brass band on the quayside oom-pah-pahed and made everybody smile.

  ‘Now are you sure you’ve got everything, Billy?’ said Ma. They were on the quayside at the bottom of the crew’s gangway into the ship. Ma had put on her best hat for the occasion and the girls were in their best Sunday dresses.

  ‘I’m sure, Ma.’ The string of his bulging kitbag cut into his shoulder. Ma had helped him pack, and had made him put in almost all he possessed.

  ‘Well, see you in a few months,’ she said. ‘Take care of yourself.’

  ‘I will, Ma.’ Billy kissed her and his sisters, and suddenly the girls were sobbing again. Little Mabel hung on to Billy until Ma pulled her off.

  Billy ran up the gangway and hurried to the boat deck facing the quayside. It was crowded with members of the crew, but he managed to find a space at the handrail beside a lifeboat davit. Each lifeboat was held on a pair of davits, ready to be swung out and lowered to the sea in case of an emergency. The boats were covered with water-tight tarpaulins and smelled of fresh paint.

  Far below Billy could see Ma and the girls. They waved, and he waved back. A band was playing and the crowd cheered when the gangways were lowered. The engines throbbed through the deck beneath Billy’s boots. After a while the ship gave three great blasts on its foghorn and a gaggle of tugs began to draw it slowly away from the quayside, like dolphins pulling at a giant whale.

  Billy waved to Ma and the girls again.

  ‘How sweet,’ said a voice behind him. Billy didn’t have to look round to know it was George. ‘What a lovely family you have there, Billy. Mind you, I bet it’s a relief for you to be away from those wee girls, you being a terrible coward and them probably knocking you about all the time. That little one looks a holy terror.’

  Billy wanted to punch him, but the same instinct told him this was not the time or the place. He took one last look at the quayside and the crowd and Ma and the girls, then pushed past George and headed to the crew quarters. George said something else, and Billy could feel his smirk burning into his back. There was nothing Billy could do about it. Not at the moment, anyway.

  * * *

  The sun shone down on them as they sailed out of Belfast Lough and south through the Irish Sea. There were no passengers, and the ship had only a skeleton crew and a temporary skipper – Captain Smith would take full command in Southampton. Mr McElroy kept the bellboys occupied, using them to run errands all over the ship so they would get to know their way around.

  Billy enjoyed the work, but every now and again he would stop by the handrail and gaze out at the sea and sky and the dark smudge of the Welsh or English coastline in the distance. He could hardly believe he was sailing on the most famous ship in the world – that he was actually one of the crew! The whole idea gave him so much pleasure he almost forgot to be homesick.

  He wasn’t seasick either, unlike most of the bellboys and even some of the stewards and deckhands. ‘I’m impressed, Billy,’ said Mr McElroy one morning when they were on the foredeck. ‘You must be a natural sailor.’

  Billy smiled, and turned to look at George. His enemy was leaning over the handrail with a distinctly green tinge to his face, but he still had the energy to glare back at him. Score one to me, Billy thought, and walked off.

  Docking in Southampton was a great event. They were greeted by a fleet of little boats and tugs and the quayside was even more crowded than in Belfast. The rest of the crew joined the ship, the passengers came aboard, and the bellboys lined up at the top of the Grand Staircase to greet them.

  Billy was fascinated to see the rich people he had heard so much about. They wore fine clothes, the men in suits and the ladies in beautiful gowns and fancy hats. But apart from their outfits, Billy thought they looked like anybody else.

  ‘Step lively now, boys,’ Mr McElroy said quietly. ‘Don’t wait to be asked, offer your services. Billy, over here. I’ve got a special job for you.’

  Billy followed Mr McElroy towards a small group of people with two men at its centre. He could sense the other bellboys watching him, George in particular, but he didn’t care. In fact he relished being picked out by Mr McElroy.

  ‘This is Mr Ismay, Billy,’ said Mr McElroy, nodding at one of the men. Mr Ismay was wearing a dark suit and had a moustache. Its ends were waxed and pointed upwards. ‘He runs the company, so he’s a very important man.’

  ‘Don’t listen to him, Billy,’ said Mr Ismay, smiling. ‘On this voyage I’m a passenger like any other, and much less important than Mr Andrews here.’

  The other man smiled briefly. He was tall and fair, and Billy recognised him immediately. Thomas Andrews was the engineer who had designed the Titanic. He had been pointed out to Billy often enough in the shipyard.

  ‘Oh no, I don’t think so,’ Mr Andrews said quietly. ‘I don’t pay the bills.’

  ‘And I’ve paid some big ones for this ship, I can tell you,’ said Mr Ismay. The other men around them laughed politely. ‘Well, this won’t do,’ Mr Ismay continued. ‘Lead on, Billy. I’d like to see what kind of stateroom the company’s money has paid for. I’ll see you at dinner, Andrews. Until later, gentlemen.’

  Mr Ismay was pleased with his stateroom and gave Billy a handsome tip, a whole shilling. Billy headed back to the Grand Staircase, pleased as punch.

  Two days later they docked in Cherbourg on the other side of the English Channel, but Billy had no time for even a glimpse of the French port. He was kept busy by the new first-class passengers who came aboard, many of them wealthy Americans on their way home after European tours. There were second-class passengers too, as there had been in Southampton.

  It was in Cherbourg that Billy at last encountered some of the third-class passengers. Only a few had come aboard in Southampton, but there were crowds of them waiting on the French quayside. Their clothes were threadbare and patched and they talked in dozens of different languages, none of which Billy could understand. He heard a deckhand say they were from all over Europe and most had probably walked hundreds of miles.

  When he went off duty in the afternoon Billy headed for the third-class accommodation near the crew quarters to have a closer look. The whole area was packed with people settling in. Billy noticed a lone mother with four pretty wee girls, all dark, and he felt a sudden pang of homesickness. Like other families, they were housed in a cabin meant for eight people. The four girls were sharing two bunks between them, so there was room in the cabin for five strangers as well.

  The youngest girl ran up to him and spoke. ‘Sorry,’ he said, and shrugged. ‘I don’t have a clue what you’re saying. And I think your ma wants you.’

  The mother nodded and rolled her eyes, as if to say, That one is a handful.

  Billy laughed and nodded back, then turned and headed for his own bunk.

  That night he slept better than he had done in weeks.

  Chapter Five

  A Very Special Job

  By the time Billy was on duty again the next morning they were away down the Channel, steaming westwards. They made a last stop, at Queenstown in the south of Ireland, and took on more passengers, almost all third class. Billy stood at the handrail, looking at the town and the road beyond, thinking how strange it was that if he walked due north from here he’d be home in a week.

  Within a few hours they were heading out to sea once more, this time on the long Atlantic part of the voyage. The good weather held, although there was more cloud cover now and the temperature seemed to drop by the hour.

  ‘It’s always
colder on the open sea,’ said Mr McElroy when Billy asked him about it. ‘Except for Iceland there’s no land to stop the freezing winds blowing straight from the Arctic. Don’t worry Billy, you’ll soon get used to it.’

  Billy wasn’t so sure, although he did have a thick woollen pea-coat as part of his uniform, the best coat he’d ever had in his life. The bellboys were issued with gloves too, although they were white and more for show than warmth.

  Still, things were good, Billy often thought as they sailed on through calm seas, the ocean flat, almost glassy. The great ship moved swiftly, and there was a rumour going round the crew that Mr Ismay had told Captain Smith to make as much speed as possible – it would be good publicity if the ship arrived ahead of schedule. Mr McElroy said that was nonsense and that the engines needed a steady run below top speed to make sure they bedded in.

  Not that their speed mattered to Billy. He was enjoying a double life. On duty, he was to be found at the bellboy station outside Mr McElroy’s office or running errands. Now everyone was settled in there was a lot less fetching and carrying, although he still had plenty of contact with the first-class passengers. A few were bad-tempered and mean, but most were friendly and having a grand time. Some handed out tips like there was no tomorrow.

  Off duty, though, he usually went to check on the woman and her daughters who had come aboard in Cherbourg. With the help of a few other passengers, Billy found out they were Polish, and that the woman’s husband was already in America.

  ‘He has a good job,’ somebody told Billy. ‘They want a better life than the one they had in Poland.’

  Billy could understand that, although it seemed a shame they had to leave the home they loved to get on.

  Billy came to know the girls’ names, although the only one he could say properly was that of the youngest, Anya. Maybe he tried harder with her because she reminded him of his youngest sister, although she wasn’t as clingy and whiny as Mabel could be – Anya was very cheeky. She was also prone to wander off on her own and get lost, much to her mother’s annoyance.