There is no emergency

As I walked up the gangplank, my skirts rustling and the sun’s rays briefly blinding me as the ship’s hull shone brightly, I saw him. He was stood at the entrance waiting for me, his demeanour that of someone who felt he was important. He stood there, oblivious to the passengers who squeezed past him, all cases and hats trying to negotiate the small space as they excitedly boarded the ship. I didn’t share their excitement.

‘My dear...’ he suddenly exclaimed in that high pitched voice that I had come to despise. He had spotted me well before I had a chance to compose myself. ‘...what a delight it is to see you again.’

I visibly winced, something he probably noticed, but I was in no mood for pleasantries.

‘You know why I’m here uncle...’ I replied, as I lifted my skirt up to ankle level to step into the darkness of the ship. ‘There are too many rumours...I need answers...we all need answers.’

‘Always straight to the point I see...’ he replied, a look of irritation on his face. ‘Well, there’s no point in pleasantries...follow me...’

‘Where are we going?’ I asked, suddenly flustered, as he walked off at a brisk pace, his red coat billowing in the breeze. We had set off along the indoor deck, where families and children were gathering for the departure, laughter and anticipation in the air.

‘I am going to show you that all of these unfounded rumours are just that...rumours...’ he shouted above the noise, turning to look back at me. ‘Now come on...there isn’t a lot of time before we leave...’

He had always been an intimidating presence in my life, looking down on my achievements, belittling my stature and my sex. He was a man, and a successful man at that. What could I possibly know about the building of a ship? Well, I did know. I had researched and I had seen. My early years at The Bugle had seen me uncover quite a few secrets, and the stories that had followed had confirmed my ability as a journalist. Not that my uncle noticed, or indeed cared, and in a way, I understood his reluctance to indulge me with this. I am, after all, a relation, and surely, I should trust his words?

I caught up with him and tapped him on the shoulder.

‘Why are those gates locked? Are there passengers down there?’ I asked, stopping at a large entrance that led below. Two huge iron gates were shut tightly with an oversize padlock.

He stopped and looked at me, his face now not remotely attempting to mask his irritation.

‘It’s the third-class accommodation dear. We lock the gates, so they can’t come up here and mingle with our better class of passenger. Isn’t that obvious? ‘

‘...but what if there is an emergency? How would they know?’

‘Emergency?’ he repeated, his nostrils actually seeming to flare as he spoke. ‘There will be no emergency on this ship...’ and he walked off. I didn’t want to follow, but I’d come for a reason, and it was clear I wasn’t going to get the answers I wanted from him.

We went down a flight of stairs, moving against the flow of people who were making their way to the decks as the ship was getting ready to depart. Soon we were in a long corridor where the first-class cabins were situated.

‘Allow me to show you the luxury that this ship...my ship...affords...’ and he motioned for a young steward, dressed all in white, to open the nearest cabin. ‘Don’t worry...they will be boarding at the next port of call...’ he said with a smug smile. He was enjoying his command of our encounter.

It was luxurious. Of course it was. It was first-class after all. There was a huge double four-poster bed, covered in silk sheets, an enormous oak wardrobe which was so large you could virtually walk into it, an electric lamp and two French doors leading to an outside balcony.

‘What do you think my dear?’ he grinned, showing his nicotine-stained teeth. ‘It’s the height of luxury, almost like a five-star hotel floating on the sea.’

I had to agree, it really was quite special ‘Yes uncle, this is impressive, but what do these notices mean?’

There were hand painted cards pinned to the wall, with seemingly random numbers that made no sense.

‘They are breakfast, dinner and tea times. Isn’t it obvious?’ he asked again in the same annoying way.

‘Don’t you have a ship’s telephone to let people know? What if there was a fire drill or something? How would you tell them?’

This was probably a step too far already, as i saw his face redden and he took a step towards me. I’d only been on the ship for about ten minutes, and I’d annoyed him. He was so close to my face, that i could feel his breath against my cheek.

‘My dear...’ he said in a far more deliberate fashion, ‘...we don’t have such things as it is far too costly. I... I mean we...decided to spend the money on luxury such as this...’ and he opened his arms out wide as a way of confirming his point. ‘We have perfectly capable stewards who can go from cabin to cabin in a very quick time. Do you understand?’

‘...but what if there is an emergency, and you need everyone on deck immediately?’

‘What possible type of emergency can take place on this ship that would require such a thing?’ and he walked off again, leaving me trailing behind with his muttered words passing by me.

‘Come to the wireless room...’ he boomed, now becoming more and more irritated.

It was a small room with two young boys wearing a headset bent over scraps of paper, where they were scribbling messages. It was small and stuffy, and I saw at the far end against the wall, an unmade bed where they took turns to sleep.

‘How old are they?’ I asked, thinking they couldn’t be older than around fifteen.

‘It doesn’t matter Louise...’ and I noticed that he didn’t refer me to as my dear. ‘These two lads communicate all around the world from this small room. They send and receive hundreds of messages every day from passengers and their loved ones. It really is a marvel, don’t you think? The modern day is really an age to revel in.’

‘...and if there’s an...’

‘...emergency my dear?’

‘...yes...’ I muttered, suddenly feeling quite foolish.

‘See those three letters?’ pointing to a large piece of paper held to the wall by a pin. ‘CQD...an international distress signal. CQ means that all ships should stop sending messages and listen, and the D stands for distress...trust me Louise, there will never be a time when we would have to send such a message, and to be perfectly honest with you...

He actually melodramatically looked from side to side before coming close to me and whispered, ‘...hardly anyone knows of the signal anyway, so there would be little point in sending it...’

I stood there shocked, whilst he seemed to find it extremely amusing, giggling in an almost feminine way as left the two young boys to carry on.

‘Before we depart, can I see the lifeboats uncle?’

He stopped and turned to look at me again.

‘Whatever for? They aren’t exactly pretty you know...’

‘I know...I’d just like to see them, that’s all...’

‘They are on the upper deck. Are you sure you want to climb that high? It will be very windy.’

‘I will be fine, I assure you...’ and with that, he just nodded and led the way to the steep stairs that led to the upper deck.

‘There is an elevator my dear, but I’m sure you’ll ask what would happen if it broke down in an emergency, and frankly, it’s becoming a little tiring...’ and he giggled to himself once more.

Uncle was right about one thing. They weren’t pretty at all. They were exactly how I expected them to be, small wooden boats, some with a canvas covering them, but most just open to the elements. They were attached to the hull by numerous thick and heavy ropes and seemed to have no mechanism to actually get them into the sea. It looked as if it was just a case of manpower, but how many men could move a lifeboat and somehow get it seaworthy? Also, a couple of them appeared to have holes in the wood, meaning they would be useless in the water anyway.

‘There’s nothing to see as i told you. We put them here just for the rules that we have to obey. They really aren’t much use, as you can see...’

I wanted to ask so many questions, especially what would happen in an emergency, and how many passengers could be saved if there was a problem at sea, but it was pointless I knew.

‘Come on...let’s go inside...we can prepare for the launch with a stiff drink...’ and I dutifully followed him into the spacious dining room that was decorated with the most ornate and splendid artefacts, marble floors and chandeliers that twinkled with the electricity that flowed through the ship. I sighed, feeling that I had wasted my time.

‘Here you are my dear...’ and he gave me a small flute of sparkling champagne. ‘I trust you are satisfied now that they were all unfounded rumours. This ship will never experience any kind of emergency...

‘...but uncle...’

‘Mister Ismay...’ a steward suddenly came rushing forward interrupting us. He whispered something, and in that moment, I saw my uncle’s face go deathly white. He stood like a statue, a drop of sweat slowly rolling down from his forehead to his cheek.

‘My dear...’ and he suddenly came out of his trance and grabbed my hand in his. He held me strongly, his flesh clammy and wet. ‘I must go...’

‘...but uncle,’ I replied, trying to keep his attention.

‘...uncle...why should I believe you?’