The Girl Who Came Home(53)

‘Oi, Bride,’ he whispered.

The two operators turned around.

‘For crying out loud Walsh, what now?’

Harry could see from the look on Bride’s face that something was happening. ‘I felt the judder. The engines have stopped. What’s happening?’

Bride and Philips looked at each other. It was Philips who spoke.

‘We hit an iceberg. There’s damage to the starboard side below the waterline. She’s taking in water. We’re radioing for help. Captain Smith’s orders.’

‘Radioing for help? It isn’t bad is it? Surely they can close the watertight compartments?’

The three men stared at each other then, the crackle from the receivers the only sound in the small room. The look of latent fear on their faces told Harry everything he needed to know. He nodded and walked slowly from the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

Almost in a daze, he wandered out onto the deck. Already there was a crowd of passengers out there, first class Harry presumed, judging by their formal dinner wear. They were mostly gathered around the starboard side of the ship, some leaning over the side, others staring at the gigantic mass of ice which towered a little way in the distance behind the ship. It was a truly terrifying thing to behold.

Harry had never seen a real iceberg before. He’d seen them in picture books and encyclopaedias as a child, marvelling at these gigantic blocks of ice which glistened like turquoise jewels against the brilliant blue seas of the Arctic and Antarctic. He remembered being fascinated by them as a child, wondering how ice could possibly turn blue and questioning his father endlessly about how cold they would feel to touch and how they were made and whether it was true that the iceberg you can see is only a part of the entire thing. He remembered his father laughing at his inquisitive nature. ‘There’s a saying son: ‘the tip of the iceberg’, which means you’re only just seeing the beginning of something. If you saw an iceberg that was a hundred feet tall, there would be six or seven hundred feet more under the sea.’ He’d thought his father was joking; didn’t believe him.

Staring now at this ice giant - which bore no resemblance to those of his childhood picture books and encyclopaedias - he wondered what his father would say. Far from being a glittering jewel, this iceberg was a chilling sight, looming dark and ominous from the black sea below; the mass of the entire thing almost unfathomable.

He shivered and drew his thin jacket around his shoulders, wrapping his arms around himself to try and retain some warmth in his body.

He heard children laughing and turned. Just behind him, huge lumps of ice, which had been knocked off the berg, lay on the deck. A group of young boys pushed them backwards and forwards to each other, watching them slip and slither across the polished wooden planks, their breaths of laughter caught in a fine mist before dispersing into the freezing night air. It was a bizarre sight, a surreal moment which Harry seemed unable to tear his eyes away from.

‘Must be a hundred feet tall that.’ His thoughts were disturbed by a well-dressed gentleman in full, formal dinner dress who had appeared at his side, gazing at the spectacle of the iceberg. ‘I hear the ship glanced off the side of it,’ the man continued. ‘No significant damage though. Just as well we were aboard the mighty Titanic hey! That berg could have easily sunk a smaller ship.’

He laughed to himself then and pulled a white handkerchief from his breast pocket to wipe his spectacles which had misted up in the cold.

‘But, I hear that she is taking on water sir.’ Harry was hesitant, not wishing to cause a panic, but unable to leave this man without telling him the truth of the matter.

‘Really? Ah well, a bit of water won’t bother a ship like this. They’ll pump it out lad and we’ll be on our way. Mark my words.’ He coughed slightly against the cold. ‘Well, I don’t know about you young man, but I think I’d rather finish my brandy than stand out here freezing to death. Good evening to you.’ He tipped his hat then and went inside.

‘Good evening to you, sir.’

Harry stood for a few moments longer, observing the normality going on around him. The look on Bride and Philips’ faces had told him everything. Titanic wasn’t just taking on water, she was sinking and they were radioing for help.

As he watched, more and more finely dressed passengers appeared on deck, interested to see the iceberg for themselves. He recognised the silent movie actress whose dog he had walked that first day aboard.

‘We were playing bridge,’ he heard her say to a colleague, ‘and then all this commotion occurred on deck so we came out to see what all the fuss was about. I see now it is only a bit of ice. I’ve seen bigger lumps in my gin and tonic! Come along ladies, let’s go back in. It’s freezing out here.’