Love...Maybe: The Must-Have Eshort Collection. Julia Williams
then there was a great roar, a sound of splintering wood, and the ship made a sudden plunge. The stern rose high in the air before sliding beneath the waves and it was gone in a matter of seconds. A gasp of despair rose from the souls in the water then a communal keening sound. There was a final explosion and a cloud of steam erupted from the deep, briefly marking the spot where the ship had been.
Gerda was stunned. ‘How could she have gone so quickly? It’s not even twenty minutes since we were hit. The Titanic stayed afloat for an hour and forty minutes.’
‘I s…suppose she was hit at a c…critical point.’ Jack’s teeth were chattering like castanets and Gerda hugged him again, rubbing his arms as hard as she could. She badly wanted to kiss him but couldn’t stretch far enough over the top of the life jacket to reach his lips.
Jack seemed scared now; all the confidence he had shown on board had evaporated in the cold water. No matter, because Gerda felt strong. She would take charge. She was the swimmer. She would make the decisions.
*
Before long, Jack was too weak to swim much, but they found that if he hooked his arm through the life jacket, Gerda could tow him along. She began to head back towards the spot where the ship had disappeared, hoping that’s where any lifeboats might be found. The water was littered with deckchairs, boxes, and folk desperately trying to clamber onto any object they could find. A badly mangled body floated past face down, the arm and part of the upper chest ripped away so it looked like a joint of meat in the butcher’s window. Gerda’s stomach heaved with the horror. All around, people were crying out, desperately asking for the whereabouts of loved ones: ‘Mary Steel? Have you seen Mary Steel?’ ‘John Adams!’ ‘He-e-enry.’ ‘My baby. Where’s my baby?’ One woman had placed an infant on a jagged sheet of wood and was swimming beside it, but the child was uncannily still and quiet and Gerda feared it was dead. Pushing obstacles aside, she scanned the horizon for a lifeboat. It was hard to see over the heads of the crowd, but at last she spotted one moving away from them into open water.
‘Hang on, Jack,’ she said. ‘Hold tight.’
She struck out with all her strength. It was hard to swim front crawl in a life jacket, but it was the fastest stroke and she needed to catch that boat. Its occupants were obviously trying to get away from the survivors in the water, probably scared of being overwhelmed and sunk, but it looked as if there was room for two more, if she could only reach them.
Gerda counted the strokes in her head, breathing in every fourth stroke, keeping her face above the surface so she could see the way. Jack’s weight pulling on the life jacket made it harder. For a while it looked as though the gap between them and the boat was widening, but then it seemed to slow and she realised she was catching up. She didn’t call out until they were close by.
‘Please let us on board. There are only two of us and my fiancé doesn’t have a life jacket.’
‘Go away,’ said a woman with an aristocrat’s vowels. ‘There’s no more room.’
Gerda reached the boat and hooked one hand over the side, which was just a foot above the water. She couldn’t haul them up by herself. She’d need help. Suddenly she felt a sharp pain in her knuckles as a man hit her with the side of an oar.
‘Get off!’ he yelled. ‘This boat is full.’ He raised the oar as if to hit her again and Gerda quickly let go.
‘There are only two of us. We’ll hardly take any space. Please help.’ She looked up at the man’s red, angry features then round at the other faces. Women turned away so as not to catch her eye.
‘You’ll find other boats over in that direction,’ one woman said, pointing back the way she had come. ‘We can’t risk you capsizing or sinking us.’
At least she sounded sympathetic, so Gerda swam round and held onto the edge of the boat alongside her. ‘Oh please reconsider,’ she begged, then howled in pain as the oar came down on her knuckles again.
‘Get out of here! Away!’ the man shooed, as if she were an irritating stray dog.
Gerda turned to Jack, surprised he hadn’t joined the argument or at the very least remonstrated with the man who had hurt her. His face was white, his eyes staring and his breath coming in quick short pants. His whole body was shaking convulsively and she realised he was showing signs of hypothermia. Her father had taught her to recognise such things.
‘My fiancé is dying. Does that mean nothing to you?’
‘Over there,’ a woman pointed. ‘I can see a boat that’s only half-full. I’m sure you’ll make it if you hurry. Good luck to you.’
Gerda looked in the direction she indicated and saw the silhouette of a boat. There was no arguing with these people, not with a man who was capable of hitting her with an oar. ‘Come, Jack,’ she said. ‘We’re not wanted here.’
As she began to swim off, Jack lost his grip on the life jacket and slid beneath the water. Instantly Gerda grabbed hold of him, pulling his head up. His hands were blue and swollen from the cold so she rubbed them to try and bring back some circulation. If only there was a way for her to take off the life jacket and tie it on him. Why hadn’t she insisted on doing that earlier? Now he had no strength left and would sink to the bottom if she let go for a moment. She would have to hold him with one arm and swim with the other.
Fierce anger with the people on the lifeboat gave her renewed strength. She turned Jack onto his back and slipped her left forearm under his chin, just as her father had once demonstrated, then she began to swim towards the boat with her right, using her legs to propel them. After a while she swapped over. Jack’s eyes were wide and staring, so at least he hadn’t lost consciousness; that would be the next stage. Strange that he had succumbed before her; perhaps it was because she had more flesh on her, Jack being very lean. She knew she had to keep moving, to keep her wits about her. Her limbs felt numb, but she hadn’t started the convulsive shaking yet.
Around her, it seemed more bodies were dead than alive. Some folk had drowned because they’d put their lifejackets on the wrong way and they bobbed along with their heads beneath the water. Those who floated face up had bewildered expressions, as if in their final moments they had been puzzled by their fate. There was a surprising number of children, their faces turned to the sky: had the Lusitania really carried so many youngsters? Gerda didn’t stop to check if they were dead. There was nothing she could do for anyone else. She couldn’t allow herself to help, couldn’t allow herself to feel fear or horror. She simply had to save Jack.
The sunshine reflecting off the water was blinding and she kept losing sight of the lifeboat she was heading for. Her throat was raw from swallowing salt water and her limbs felt as if they were weighed down by sandbags. That happened when swimming in the cold as blood was diverted to your organs. How long had they been in the water? Why was it taking so long to send rescue ships when they had surely been seen from the Irish coast? It had looked just ten or twelve miles away: too far to swim in the cold water, but no distance at all for a boat to cover.
There was a current now, pulling her slightly off course. She shifted Jack around, managing to kiss his forehead as she struck out with her right arm, kicking her legs wildly.
I will not lose him, she pledged, gritting her teeth. I WILL NOT. I WILL NOT.
Suddenly there was a lifeboat right in front and faces were peering over the edge.
‘Help us,’ she pleaded. ‘My fiancé can’t last much longer.’
There was a pause while they talked amongst themselves, then a lady replied: ‘We’ll take you, my dear, but there’s no room for men. Surely your fiancé can fend for himself?’
‘He can’t stay afloat. I’m the only one with a life jacket.’
‘I’m sorry, we can’t take you both.’
Gerda scanned the sea around them: there were no other lifeboats in sight. She looked into Jack’s face and knew he didn’t