Titanic: April 1912 (2 page)

“What do you mean?” Karolina asked.

“There are no iron bars on the stairways, are there? I'd wait for a quiet time, then I'd just go have a look.”

“And get thrown out?” Aunt Rose demanded, laughing.

Karolina walked away from them, glancing upward every few seconds. On the second-class promenade, she noticed a boy standing alone, his back to the railing. When he turned, she recognized him. His face was pale and strained like it had been up on the boat deck.

Laughter from above drew Karolina's attention. She saw a girl with windblown auburn hair, her stylish skirts fluttering in the breeze. Was she the heiress? Karolina stared. The girl was only a few years older than she was. Karolina tried to imagine having more than seven thousand dollars every year to spend as she chose. After a few seconds, she shook her head. She couldn't imagine having that much money. Her father had always said that great wealth was usually a great evil. He had spent his life helping the poor, ministering to the sick. Now he was gone. Karolina looked at the elegant people. Why were all of them alive when her parents were not?

Chapter Three

Gavin tried to work faster. He had over a hundred pounds of carrots to run through the chopping machines before he could quit for the night. He was looking forward to watching his friends play poker. He looked forward to anything that took his mind off the endless ocean surrounding the
Titanic.

He had been up on deck that morning again, but it wasn't getting any better. The thought of the Atlantic stretching in every direction made him nearly sick with fear. And now there was the constant lookout for icebergs. Lionel said that even if they struck one, the
Titanic
had been designed so well it couldn't possibly sink. But all the talk of icebergs made Gavin nervous anyway. He spent his nighttime hours up on deck; he could barely stand his airless little cabin up in the bow—especially once his three roommates were settled in for the night. Wallace snored. Harry talked in his sleep—sometimes he recited recipes he was memorizing. Lionel was maddeningly tolerant of everyone else's foibles.

“Are you daydreaming, Reilly?” Startled, Gavin looked up. Harry was grinning at him. “I sure wish you would play poker tonight, Gavin. As asleep as you are, I'd win all your money.”

Gavin shrugged. “All you think about is money, Harry.”

“A man can't afford to pass up opportunity, Gavin.” Harry grinned again, then walked away. Gavin bent back over the carrots, concentrating on getting them clean. The vegetable cook was very particular.

When his shift finally ended, Gavin eased open one of the heavy double doors and slipped into the cavernous first-class dining room. At first glance, it appeared empty. Any of the wealthy passengers who wanted food now would have to go to the Parisian Café or the À la Carte Restaurant up on C-deck.

The decorative pillars and arches that divided the huge room looked eerie in the dim light. On the far side, Gavin spotted Wallace and Harry. They had turned up the table lamp. Harry's white shirtsleeves were pushed up over his skinny arms. Heavyset Wallace sprawled casually in his chair, his elbows propped on the carved wood of the armrests. His rust-colored hair looked almost orange in the lamplight.

Gavin glanced up at the ornate ceiling. The endless geometric knot pattern scrolled its way among the pillars, making angular shadows on the white surface.

“Come on, Gavin, let's play a hand before the others get here,” Wallace called.

Gavin started across the plush carpet, making his way between the tables. The snowy linen napkins were folded into careful twin peaks, the silverware polished and laid out precisely on the white tablecloths. He was careful not to disturb anything.

Harry grinned as Gavin got closer. “There's no point trying to talk him into this, and you know it, Wallace.”

Gavin shrugged. “You both know why I can't.”

“He thinks he's going to be the next John Jacob Astor,” Wallace sneered. In the lamplight his freckles were hard to see.

Gavin smiled. “All I want is steady work and a better life.”

Wallace shook his head. “You think too small, Gavin. Do you think the Americans will greet you with open arms at the dock?”

“Leave him alone, Wallace,” Harry put in.

“Nothing wrong with ambition, is there, Harry?” Wallace argued. “Not everyone wants to rule the galley. Some of us want to rule the world.”

Harry nodded wisely and shuffled the cards. “Not me. Better to have a dream you can reach. I want to become a chef and I want to see the world.”

“You're going to end up seeing very little beyond pots and chopping machines,” Wallace growled.

“Harry has a bright future with the White Star Line, Wallace.” They all turned to see Lionel walking toward them, stepping sideways to pass between the tables. Gavin watched him approach. Lionel's chiseled features and elegant manners made him seem at home in this grand room. He took off his steward's jacket and hung it carefully over the back of a chair, then sat down. “Pull up a chair, Gavin. You can watch me win all of Wallace's money again.”

Wallace grimaced. “I'm feeling lucky tonight, Lionel.”

Gavin pulled in a deep breath. “I think I'll go up to the boat deck instead.”

“What do you do up there, anyway?” Harry asked, shuffling the cards.

Gavin looked aside, trying to think of something to tell them. He wasn't about to tell them how cooped up he felt—or how afraid he was to go on deck during the day. “I've been in that hot galley since I got up this morning. I want to see the stars.”

Lionel yawned and stretched, leaning back in his chair. He took off his bow tie and tucked it into his jacket pocket. “You grew up on a farm, didn't you?”

Gavin nodded. “You know I did.”

“We all know, Gavin,” Wallace said, laughing. “You still have cow dung on your shoes and a kitchen chair haircut. You know, you should go down to C-deck and see the barber once in a while.”

Gavin glared at him. Wallace loved to make other people feel small. Lionel was shaking his head. “You will never get farther than the scullery, Wallace. You have no manners at all.”

Wallace frowned. “You think you belong in first class because you work there. Next thing we know, you'll be exercising in the squash court and expecting to be allowed in the swimming bath.”

“Lionel earned his position,” Gavin said.

Harry looked up. “You're just envious, Wallace.”

Gavin grinned. “I'll stay for a while, just to listen to you insult each other.” He slid a chair back. His roommates laughed.

“I saw an iceberg bigger than a barn today,” Lionel said.

The laughter died down.

“I've seen growlers all along—” Wallace began.

“No,” Lionel interrupted. “Not a growler, a big one.”

As Harry shuffled the deck and began to deal the cards, Gavin glanced out the windows at the darkness, involuntarily clenching his hands into fists.

“This is the
Titanic
, Gavin,” Harry said. “You don't need to go silent and scared on us.”

“That's what he's good at,” Wallace jeered. “You ever see him up on the boat deck all pale and sweaty?”

Before Gavin could answer, Lionel leaned forward. “Leave Gavin alone, Wallace. Any ship can sink. Even this one.”

Tired of the insults, Gavin shoved back his chair. “If I'm going to get any fresh air tonight, I'd better get going now.”

“All that talk about icebergs got to you, didn't it, Gavin?” Wallace taunted him.

Gavin waved without answering and walked back across the dining saloon. His stomach was churning, and all he could think about was how much he needed to be outside, to breathe clean, cold air. Thank God it was nighttime.

• • •

Just to see, Karolina crossed to the locked door and tried the handle. It wouldn't budge. Not surprised, she turned and hurried up the narrow corridor, buttoning her coat and feeling guilty. Aunt Rose had gone to bed early, and Karolina knew that if she woke up, she'd be worried. But there just wasn't any other choice. The tiny stateroom allowed Karolina no privacy, and she felt the pressing ache behind her eyes that meant she needed time to cry. She knew only one place on the whole ship where she might be able to be completely alone.

Most of the third-class stateroom doors were wide open. People stood talking in the doorways, their voices hushed. It was hot, and the air was thick with human noise and odors. It felt good to be ­walking—to be anywhere except in their little stateroom.

Emily and her children had come to visit for part of the day. Emily was sweet-natured and fun to talk to, but Davey was cranky. Karolina understood him perfectly. It was awful to be shut up all day long in the tiny third-class cabins.

The entrance to the stairway was crowded, but most of the people there were just standing in small groups, talking quietly. Karolina excused herself, making her way through them until she could start upward.

She'd been all the way up to the boat deck twice; she never got tired of the sea wind or the slate-gray water. She had once managed to slip onto the first-class promenade, but had been afraid to go more than a little ways along it. She knew her cotton dress and plain coat marked her as very different from the first-class passengers.

The stairs were pretty steep, but Karolina went up at a quick, even pace. When she passed the third-class general room, three older men were coming out. They were deep in discussion, speaking their own language. None of them glanced her way as she turned toward the promenade.

The starry sky was clear, and Karolina stood for a few moments, pulling in deep breaths of clean air. Then she started off again. The cargo hoists looked like ghostly giant birds as she passed between them and opened the door that led to the second-class stairs.

As she had been the first time, she was amazed at the difference between steerage class and second class. Here, the walls were covered with beautifully grained oak. The balustrade was ornate, and the carpet beneath her feet was soft.

There were fewer people here, too, but she looked straight ahead at the patterned carpet to avoid meeting anyone's eyes as she started upward. Third-class passengers were expected to stay below. She was certain that any steward who saw her would ask where her cabin was, then insist that she go back down to steerage.

“Come on, John, let's go see what it's like.”

Karolina looked up at the sound of the girl's voice. She was fair skinned, her lustrous hair pulled back in a pink ribbon that matched her dress. She was leaning on the oak balustrade, frowning, her eyes narrowed. Karolina looked away.

“Come on.”

From the corner of her eye, Karolina saw the girl stamp her foot petulantly.

“I'm going back up,” a boy's voice answered from above. “Father said we were to be in the stateroom at ten, and I want to go see the gymnasium, not a crowd of unwashed immigrants.” As he finished, he came around the corner and started down the stairs toward Karolina. He was younger than the girl, but he had the same proud, haughty manner.

Pretending to be lost in thought, Karolina veered toward him, bumping into him so hard that he nearly lost his balance. “I'm so sorry,” she murmured as she went past. He cursed at her, but she didn't look back at him. Instead, she climbed even faster, crossing the B-deck landing almost at a run. Every other time she had come this way, she had stopped to look at the paintings with their dramatic frames and their muted scenes of forests. This time, she just wanted to get away from everyone.

She emerged onto A-deck, turning to follow the last flight of stairs upward between the two halves of the Palm Court. She stopped to catch her breath, looking into the arched windows. It was so beautiful inside.

Ivy grew on trellises set against the walls. The white wicker furniture was arranged neatly around both oval and square tables. In the back, a party of ten or twelve people laughed aloud, sharing some joke.

Karolina slid past the windows, starting up the last flight of stairs. She was still breathing hard, using one hand to pull herself upward. The polished oak banister felt smooth and cool beneath her hand.

As she pushed open the heavy doors, she shivered in the sudden chill of the cold air and pulled her coat tightly around herself, scanning the deck. She had been right. This was perfect. It was so chilly, no one else was there. Tightening her collar, she walked to the railing. For the first time all day, she allowed herself to think about her mother and father. The ache behind her eyes spilled over, and she felt tears on her cheeks.

“Are you lost? What are you doing up here this late?”

Karolina whirled around. It was the boy she had talked to before. Was he a steward? Most of them were English, and she was pretty sure his accent was Irish. It was too dark to see the expression on his face.

“I'm not lost, thank you.” Karolina half-turned, hoping that he would leave her alone.

“My name is Gavin Reilly,” he said. “I work in the first- and second-class galley. I don't care if you're up here after lights out.”

Karolina stared at him again. “I'm Karolina Truman,” she said cautiously, then turned back to face the water.

“Steward?”

Karolina recognized the demanding voice instantly. It was the boy she had encountered on the staircase. His sister was right behind him.

“I say, can you help us? Which way is the gymnasium?” Then the boy saw Karolina and pointed. “She's up from steerage.”

Karolina stiffened, but Gavin stood up, straightening his shoulders. “The gymnasium is up that way. Just keep walking and you will see it.”

The girl looked back once, but neither of them said any more. Once they were out of earshot, Karolina glared at Gavin. “I'm not hurting anything. I just wanted to be alone.”

“I hate it belowdecks,” he told her, and Karolina heard the absolute sincerity in his voice. “But I can't stand to look at the open water. It's the oddest thing. At home we have a pond, a big one. I'm a strong swimmer. I can't figure out why the ocean scares me so bad. I have to come up here at night.”

“That's awful. It's so beautiful,” Karolina said.

“I wish I felt that way,” Gavin said unhappily. “But it won't matter when I get to New York. I can't wait to get off this ship.”

“I can,” Karolina said quietly. “I wish there was somewhere I wanted to go.” She explained quickly, telling him why she was going back to America now. “And I will end up living with my aunts,” she told him. “Rose has never married, and Iris is a widow now. I love them, but . . .” Karolina hesitated. She wasn't sure why she didn't want to live with her aunts. There wasn't anywhere else she wanted to be.

Gavin shook his head. “I'm sorry. It's a hard thing to lose your parents. My da died a year ago.”

Karolina ducked her head, her cheeks flaming with embarrassment. What was she doing telling a perfect stranger about her troubles? She could barely talk to Aunt Rose about her parents. Tears filled her eyes. She leaned forward, looking down at the
Titanic
's lights reflected in the ocean. Then she whirled and walked away from him before he could say anything more.