EVERYTHING’S NOT LOST
Chapter Forty-Four
The silence in the room is
incredible. As Bruce Ismay adjusted himself in his chair at the front of the
room, seconds after having been sworn in, I realize he looks like a nervous
wreck. He should be a nervous wreck and seems to be twitching. Then again, that
may be his normal persona. But, those bags under his eyes are new. The bandage
on his nose from my punch isn’t new. I hear clicking of keys and looking in the
direction of the sound, I now notice a woman in the corner typing on a
typewriter, in front of these rich, red velvet curtains that went down from the
ceiling to the floor. Velvet! Can you even imagine? Velvet curtains that look
to be fifteen feet long! Anyhow, the typist…She must be a stenographer, making
sure everything said is put on record. She types so fast! I never noticed her
before, but maybe she just came into the picture, into the room to do her job.
At this point, who knows.
The whole atmosphere of the room
seems to have changed. Right after that Senator Smith character called out his
name, the room tensed up. Everyone had the same look on their face, the look of
anger. Everyone was angry with him. Including me. I glanced at Lightoller to my
left, who was eyeing Ismay suspiciously, and then to Molly, who had a monotone
expression before turning to Harry. He looked down at me, forcing a smile. He
knows I hate Ismay. Why did I even bother to show up? I knew he might be here.
Why add this onto my already filled mind?
"He looks like he needs a
cigarette," Harry whispered into my ear. I tried not to smile, but
couldn’t help it.
"He does, doesn’t he?"
I whispered back. He nodded, letting go of my hands and wrapping an arm around
me. I turned my attention back to the chaos known as Bruce Ismay as he
continued to move around in his chair, unable to find a comfortable position.
Smith was just pacing back and forth, in front of Ismay, looking to be somewhat
deep in thought. Just ask him what you want to ask him! This shouldn’t take as
long as it is.
"Mr. Ismay," Smith
began, "for the purpose of simplifying this hearing, I will ask you a few
preliminary questions." I groaned and I swear, I think most of the other
people in the room did, too, including the men at the tables behind the
Senator. This is not going to simplify anything—it’s just going to drag this
damn inquiry out. "First, state your full name, please?" Ismay
relaxed his shoulders.
"Joseph Bruce Ismay."
So, Bruce isn’t his full name? Not surprising. Everyone at the White Star Line
seems to have some kind of code name.
"And you place of
residence?"
"Liverpool."
"Your age?"
"I shall be fifty on the
twelfth of December." If anyone lets him live long enough to reach his
fiftieth birthday. Harry squeezed my shoulder and he leaned into my ear.
"Why did I think he was
older?" he whispered.
"The alcohol." That has
to be the reason. Either way, he was too old to be eyeing me the way he does.
He could be my father. I shuddered at that thought.
"And your occupation?"
Smith’s emotionless voice put my thoughts back onto the situation at hand.
Let’s see how long it takes for either man to lose their patience. My money’s
on Ismay, but then again, Smith looks just as tense as Ismay does. He may
just…snap. Eyeing everyone in the crowd around me, I don’t think anyone here’s
a reporter. How will the newspapers get the information about the snapping
incident—when there is one, with no journalist here, taking notes? That
reporter, huh…I wonder what happened to him…The one who knew who I was, that
jerk. Maybe he got a new camera!
"Ship owner," Ismay
answered.
"Are you an officer of the
White Star Line?" Ismay nodded.
"I am."
"In what capacity?"
"Managing director."
So, he’s not the President of the White Star Line, he’s just a manager. I’m now
happy I came to this trial. I’m actually learning something.
"As such officer,"
Smith said, clearing his throat, "were you officially designated to make
the trial trip of the Titanic?" Ismay hesitated, but shook his head.
"No."
"Were you a voluntary passenger?"
"A voluntary passenger,
yes." A voluntary passenger that got everyone killed. I rolled my eyes. I
can’t believe this. I thought all along he had been asked to board, but he
wanted to get on with the rest of us. Then, he bosses every White Star Line employee
around, telling them that he is so high up in the company, that he could get
them fired, and actually expects them to listen to him. Jerk. A voluntary
passenger!
"Where did you board the
ship?" This could take years, I realize. I rubbed my eyes tiredly, almost
scratching myself with my ring. Oops.
"At Southampton."
"At what time?"
"I think it was nine-thirty
in the morning." He thinks? Selective amnesia now? Give me a break. I’m
sure he’s still talking about the broken china. The man is like an elephant—he
forgets nothing and I mean, nothing.
"Of what day?"
"The tenth of April."
"The port of destination was
New York?" Ismay stifled a nod.
"New York," he
repeated.
"Will you kindly tell the
committee the circumstances surrounding your voyage, and as succinctly as
possible, beginning with your going aboard the vessel at Liverpool, your place
on the voyage, together with any circumstances you feel would be helpful to us
in this inquiry?" Everyone crumbled into their chairs. This is going to
take all day, at this rate. Or maybe all year.
"In the first place,"
Ismay began, "I would like to express my sincere grief at this deplorable
catastrophe." Is he serious? When nobody laughed, I realized: dear God, he
must be serious. He doesn’t grieve over anything, this man. The only thing he
has ever grieved over would be the fact that he missed his brandy and cigars in
that smoking room. "I understand," he continued, "that you
gentlemen have been appointed as a committee of the Senate to inquire into the
circumstances. So far as we are concerned, we welcome it. We court the fullest
inquiry." Oh, here he goes—he’s going to complement the White Star Line to
the Heavens…I fought the incredible urge to roll my eyes. "We have nothing
to conceal; nothing to hide."
Well, that’s one lie. I’m sure
everyone here would love to hear about what occurred on that voyage…about how
he threatened officers with their jobs, about the strange, inappropriate looks
he gave me, how poorly he treated my father, as if he was an imbecile…And in
reality, I could go on and on. I glanced at Harry, who had a look of skepticism
on his face.
"We have plenty to
hide," he whispered into my ear.
"The ship was built in
Belfast," Ismay explained. "She was the latest thing in the art of
shipbuilding; absolutely no money was spared in her construction." I knew
the money factor was going to come into play eventually. "She was not
built by contract. She was simply built on a commission." He paused,
taking in a deep breath. "She left Belfast, as far as I remember—I am not
absolutely clear on these dates, I think it was on the first of April. She
underwent her trials, which were entirely satisfactory. She then proceeded to
Southampton; arriving there on Wednesday." The Smith nodded slightly,
looking somewhat pleased at Ismay’s all out supposed confession. If he only
knew…
"Will you describe the
trials she went through?"
"I was not present." Of
course he wasn’t. He was probably drinking. My father, I’m sure, was there,
writing in that notebook of his, like he always was. That notebook, the
notebook that is behind a locked door back at the hotel and will never get
touched. Not by anyone for any reason. "She arrived at Southampton on
Wednesday, the third, I think, and sailed on Wednesday, the tenth. She left
Southampton at twelve ‘o’ clock. She arrived in Cherbourg that evening, having
run over at sixty-eight revolutions…"
As he continued to talk, I didn’t
listen. I kept my eyes to the floor. I don’t understand any of the ship talk,
anyway, so why do I even bother to listen? Until I heard him say something
about Sunday night. The iceberg. I looked up from the floor as Harry took my
right hand. Ismay’s still just…talking. I want to hear what he has to say about
the iceberg, about that night.
"The accident took place on
Sunday night. What the exact time was, I do not know. I was in bed myself,
asleep, when the accident happened. The ship sank, I am told, at
two-twenty." And why wasn’t he on the ship? Oh, he jumped onto a lifeboat.
How could I have forgotten? "That sir, I think, is all I can tell
you." He sighed. "I understand that it has been started that the ship
was going at full speed. The ship never had been at full speed. The full speed
of the ship is seventy-eighty revolutions. She works up to eighty. As far as I
am aware, she never exceeded seventy-five revolutions. She had not all her
boilers on. None of the single-ended boilers were on." As if he were to
know. I was down there in that boiler room, not him. They sounded like they
were all on to me. "It was our intention, if we had fine weather on Monday
afternoon or Tuesday, to drive the ship at full speed. That, owing to the
unfortunate catastrophe, never eventuated." Well, I could’ve told the
Senator that!
"Will you describe what you
did after the impact or collision?" I found myself rubbing my eyes once
more. I can barely keep my eyes open. Even though watching Ismay squirm under
an imaginary interrogation light is awfully fun, I can barely keep my eyes
open.
"You alright, Love?"
Harry whispered, concerned, into my ear. I nodded.
"I’m fine."
"I presume the impact
awakened me." Ismay. I held back my rather large sigh. "I lay in bed
for a moment or two afterwards, not realizing, probably, what had happened.
Eventually I got up and walked along the passageway and met one of the stewards
and said, What has happened? He said, I do not know, sir." See, his memory
is just fine. Lying, cheating scumbag— "I then went back into my room, put
my coat on, and went up on the bridge, where I found Captain Smith. I asked him
what had happened and he said, We have struck ice. I said, Do you think the
ship is seriously damaged? He said, I am afraid he is." How can he really
remember what everyone said? But, that ugly coat he’s talking about—it looked
like a robe, more than anything. It wasn’t all that warm, I bet.
As he continued to discuss who
else he spoke with, including Titanic’s chief engineer, someone I had never
met—but, thinking now, maybe he was the one who was all upset I was down in the
boiler room that night. Maybe he was, maybe he wasn’t. Ismay told the Senator
that he thought Titanic’s pumps could keep us all afloat. Pumps. I don’t
remember pumps. I remember watertight doors. But…oh, oh! The pumps.
"The pumps buy you time, but
minutes only." My father’s voice rang through my ears, and I took in a
deep breath before shaking my head of the memory. I need to keep my eyes on
Ismay, he’s the main focus. But, he can’t help but make me think of my father.
I sighed. Ismay. Ismay, Ismay, Ismay. He continued to talk about going to the
bridge and he heard the order about unloading the boats. He supposedly assisted
as best he could, but at this point, I suppose he doesn’t realize the damage
Titanic had gone through. He kept on talking, talking, and talking…and with the
droning attitude of his voice, I find my eyes drooping yet again. Stay awake,
Antoinette, stay awake.
"Did the officers seem to
know the serious character of this collision?" Alright, stay focused,
Ann…stay focused. How long has this been going on for?
"That I could not tell, sir,
because I had no conversation with them." Smith raised a suspicious
eyebrow at him.
"Did any officer say to you
that it evidently was not serious?"
"No, sir."
"All the officers with whom
you talked expressed the same fear, saying that it was serious?" When was
Ismay even talking to any of the officers? I glanced at Lightoller, who looks
as confused as I am.
"I did not speak to any of
them, sir," Ismay repeated.
"Except the Captain?"
He nodded.
"Except the Captain and the
chief engineer. I have already stated that I had spoken to them; but to no
other officer that I remember." He sounds agitated, but he fiddled with
his tie nervously. Alcohol and cigar withdrawal, no doubt.
"You went to the bridge
immediately after you had returned to your room?" Smith asked, leaning
against the table Ismay was sitting at.
"After I put on my coat I
went up to the bridge."
"And you found the Captain
there?" Oh, for God’s sake!
"The Captain was
there."
"In what part of the ship
were your quarters?" A little random, there, Senator.
"My quarters were on B-deck,
just aft of the main companionway." The Senator sighed, rubbing his own
eyes.
"I wish you would describe
just where that was."
"The sun deck is the upper
deck of all. Then we have what we call the A-deck, which is the next deck, and
then the B-deck."
"The second passenger
deck?"
"We carry very few
passengers on A-deck," Ismay explained. I was there and so was my father,
along with a few other very, very rich passengers. I wouldn’t say my family’s
rich, my mother acts like we are—but we aren’t. I’m sure my father had his pick
of the rooms he wanted, so maybe he just chose that deck. I really don’t know.
"I think we have a diagram here that will show you these decks." He
gestured to a diagram rolled up on a table nearby. Smith ran for it and unrolled
it in front of Ismay. "Here it is." He pointed to something on the
diagram I couldn’t quite make out from where I am. "…And there is the room
I was occupying."
"What is the number of that
room?"
"B-52 is the room I
had." So he’s a lucky jerk.
"You had the suite?"
Smith asked this, as if skeptically.
"I had the suite; I was
sleeping in that room—" He pointed to the diagram. "…As a matter of
fact." Well, where else would he be sleeping?
"Do you know whether there
were any passengers on that deck?"
"I have no idea, sir."
"You say that the trip was a
voluntary trip on your part?" This is ridiculous.
"Absolutely."
"…For the purpose of viewing
this ship in action, or did you have some business in New York?" Wasn’t
this question already asked and answered?
"I had no business to bring
me to New York at all. I simply came in the natural course of events, as one is
apt to, in case of a new ship, to see how she works, and with the idea of
seeing how we could improve on her for the next ship which we are
building." He also kept count of the china. I suppose he won’t tell the
Senator that, though.
"Were there any other
executive officers of the company aboard?"
"None." Well, doesn’t
that just figure. I eyed Harry and he nodded, as if he had either suspected
that Ismay was the only real executive officers on board, or he knew.
Definitely the latter.
"Was the inspector or
builder on board?" Ismay nodded.
"There was a representative
of the builders on board."
"Who was he?" Ismay
looked down at the table to his folded hands, taking in a deep breath.
"Mr. Ismay." He looked up from the oak table to the Senator, who
seemed to be a little agitated. "You need to answer the question, Mr.
Ismay."
"I apologize," he said,
his voice shaking. Smith didn’t notice, but merely began to pace the room
again.
"Who was he, Mr.
Ismay?" I held my own breath, realizing the question. Even though I had
heard it, I didn’t quite comprehend it…until now. Ismay looked at the Senator,
as if he wasn’t sure of the question himself. The Senator began to tense up, adjusting
his tie. I could see Ismay gulp, before saying simply: "Mr. Thomas
Andrews."