SOS Lusitania (3 page)
Authors: Kevin Kiely
Sitting on my bed, I took off my boots slowly and sadly, and was about to get into my nightshirt when Colleen passed the door. ‘What’s up, Col?’ I whispered.
‘I can’t sleep,’ she said, leaning against the door. ‘I’m going to get a drink of water. Let’s go and have a chat. Are the twins asleep?’
‘They’re out cold,’ I said.
We passed the turret room with the five steps leading up to it and turned to tiptoe down the stairs when suddenly Colleen
grabbed my hand. We sat on the stairs and heard Mam and Dad talking.
‘Of course you had to tell me,’ Mam said. ‘I’m glad you have. How dangerous is it for you, Jack?’ Her voice sounded anxious.
‘You’re not to worry yourself, Kitty, it’s just with the war raging in France there are a lot of things we don’t know.’ Dad spoke slowly.
‘Ah sure, I see the newspapers in the shops. They’re full of pictures of soldiers and guns and planes. But it’s so far away from us here in Queenstown we may as well be at the North Pole. We’re safe as houses. But what about you, Jack? Do you think the
Lusitania
might be attacked?’
‘There are rumours in the English and American newspapers,’ said Dad. ‘But our ship is the fastest afloat. Who could ever catch up with us? Besides, Kitty, I have to go. We’re in debt.’
‘I know, Jack, but you spend your money at the drop of a hat. Why did you bring so many presents home this time? I know you missed the Christmas, but the place is like a toyshop. You must think of saving … but, sure, how can I scold you and you heading away now? Just come back to us in one piece, love. Mrs Kelly and I will bake our way out of some of the debt. And Mrs Fitz is good for credit.’
Dad sighed. ‘Those toys were not too dear, Kitty. I got them
all in the Chinese shop in Liverpool. I miss my darlings so much.’
‘Just remember, Jack, ours is the happiest family on this street, even though you’re away so much. Always remember that.’
Colleen dragged me by the wrist into her room. ‘I’m worried for Dad at sea during the war,’ she whispered. ‘I don’t understand the war. I hear Mam and Mrs Kelly talking about it but they hush up when I come along. And Mam got a bit cross today while Dad was down in the Cunard office. She said we are as poor as everyone else on Park Terrace except Dad sometimes has,’ she stopped a moment, ‘notions’.
‘What?’ I said. ‘But Dad thinks he’s going to be promoted sometime soon and he’ll have bigger wages. Colleen, I really want to go to help him on the
Lusitania
,’ I blurted out as we heard our parents going downstairs. ‘I’m fed up of Mr Dempsey and I want to earn money.’
‘Don’t be silly, Finbar, you’re only thirteen. Go to bed.’ Her voice dropped and I could see she was sad and worried.
‘But I have a plan,’ I muttered.
‘Finbar,’ she said and yawned, ‘we have school tomorrow and Dad has to go back to his ship. Good night!’ She pushed me out of the door.
But I couldn’t sleep. Later I crept back like a tomcat to sit in the darkness a safe distance from the light in the kitchen. How could I sleep tonight? If I had a nightmare after Dad left I would feel more miserable than ever. I leant against the stair railings and looked down at the table where I could see a large white envelope with the words
Cunard Line
printed above a drawing of the ship. I knew these envelopes well. They had the names of the Cunard ships printed in a row with a dash between each one:
Lusitania
—
Ordune
—
Tuscania
—
Transylvania
. I saw Dad’s hand pick up the envelope.
I was afraid to go down, and when I finally did, Mam was there alone, with her arms folded, staring at the floor.
‘Your father is gone,’ she said with a catch in her voice. ‘And you’re a great boy, Finbar. A great comfort to me.’
‘I love you, Mam.’ The words would hardly come out of my mouth, and she held me tight for a long while.
‘Oh look at the time, Finbar,’ she said finally. ‘It’s after ten and you have school in the morning!’
‘Goodnight, Mam,’ I said, and rushed up to bed.
I had a plan and I was going to put it into action.
U
pstairs in the bedroom my mind was in a riot. Dad’s visit had unsettled me like never before, and only now did I realise how difficult Mam and Dad’s lives were. Dad said I must be the man of the house. So I will be a man, I thought, and why not tonight? This was my plan: I had decided to run away from home and get a job. As I was too young to work in the pubs and hotels in Queenstown, I would try to get work on the
Lusitania
.
First, I had to wait for Mam to settle down for the night. She could hardly stay up much longer after such a busy day. I heard her footsteps up the stairs at last, then she moved about
in her room for a while before there was silence. I needed to leave the house quickly if my plan was going to work. I was careful not to wake my brothers and sat quietly on my bed waiting until everything in the house was totally still.
Then, near the window in my room, with the aid of the gaslight outside in the street, I began to write:
‘Dear Mam, don’t kill me but…’
I wrote clearly where I was going and what I was going to do, and I put the note under my pillow on top of my schoolbooks with the money I had got from the men in the Anchor. When I looked into the darkness at my brothers, my plan filled me with resolve.
What should I bring, I wondered? A warm jumper, socks, my penknife – what about my favourite things: the little boat Dad made me for my tenth birthday and the conker that was unbeaten among my schoolmates? I put the lot into my schoolbag and tiptoed down past the steps to the turret room, past Colleen’s room, and lastly my parents’ room at the top of the stairs. Crazily, I felt Mam might hear my loud breathing. Downstairs I pulled on my cap and grabbed my gabardine coat. I let myself out into the street, shutting the door with a gentle snap of the latch.
The town below in the distance was bustling as if there was a carnival or a fair in progress. This was always the way when
a liner was either about to dock or depart from Queenstown. The rain was like a thin curtain as I ran – past St Colman’s Cathedral that was blacked out except for the gas lamps like ghosts along the railings, down Chapel Street that curved around the cathedral, along Westbourne Place that faced the harbour, where I could see shuffling crowds in a long queue outside the main shipping building near the railway station.
The runners and touts were everywhere, busy carrying luggage in both hands. I knew all the touts and on a night like this I had often joined them and earned a few coins carrying luggage and helping passengers who were heading for the liner. You had to be ‘in the know’ to get this work and I hadn’t got much recently. Tonight I would try harder. I had to get some luggage to take out to the
Lusitania
, otherwise my plan was ruined.
Out in the bay, beyond the island, I caught a glimpse of the
Lusitania
and I stared at it anxiously. It looked huge, full of strength and power and it made me feel like a little elf. The liner looked like a village in the distance, with its lights and the smoke coming from the huge chimneystacks. Did my future lie out there?
Out of breath, I trotted along Westbourne Place, bumping into people everywhere. The bars were full and the
Commodore Hotel had a jazz band playing music inside the window. In the pubs there was fiddle and accordion music, loud talking, and drunken singing. In the cafés, people were eating and drinking, while sailors played cards silently, with poker faces. The street was blocked by a mob around a fistfight between two young men near the Yacht Club. I wanted to watch, but I moved past them. I was on a mission.
The railway station rumbled into life with the arrival of a train. Sparks came from the chimney of the engine. In the Emigrant Office every door was open. The place was full of people, their shadowy faces and their ghostly frames made real only by their talking. Inside, a huge throng was waiting in line – men, women and children. In the dimly lit hall, everyone had luggage – but not schoolbags I noticed. So I decided to conceal my schoolbag; I pulled my arms through the straps, then squeezed and dragged, trying to get my gabardine coat on over it. When I finally got my arms through the sleeves they were halfway up my elbows. I walked a bit like a hunchback, but there was no other way.
‘Hey Finbar, you fool, you look funny with the coat! Is there a monkey on your back?’ Tommy Horgan bumped into me, flashing coins as he opened one hand. ‘Did your Ma let you out for some touting? I saw your Da going out on the
first tender. I worked all afternoon for Fitz’s. There are a few rich yanks over there,’ he winked. ‘Should be good for tips.’
It was good of him, but I wondered was it too late already. I was beginning to panic about my plan to run away. Was it a stupid idea?
‘The last of the passengers are over there, so now’s your only chance.’ Tommy pointed towards the ticket desk, a long counter where there was a small queue of toffs wearing coats with fur-trimmed collars, and fine brogues and hats.
‘Thanks, Tommy. I better go off and see can I earn a coin, so,’ I said, and grinned at him to hide my worries. Inside, I was not sure if I could follow through with the plan at all. I decided to forget the whole thing and go home. The plan was crazy. Leaving home as a stowaway on board the
Lusitania
! Was I cracked in the brain, or what?
A voice broke into my thoughts. ‘You, boy! I want you to work for me. I will give you five dollars.’ It was an elderly woman with white hair. I jumped. Her accent was foreign:
I
vant you to vurk far mee. I vill giff you fife dollarz
, was what she really said. Her clothes were black and she stood beside a
four-stack
of luggage in decreasing sizes.
I stuttered. ‘Five doll…dollars? Yes. Okay.’ It was a good tout. I touched my cap and looked into her powdered face.
‘Are you going on the night sailing?’
‘Of course! How else can I get to New York?’ I felt a bit silly for asking. ‘There is my luggage, boy!’ She pointed as if I were a simpleton.
‘Righty-o,’ I said. I grabbed the smallest cases and put them under my arms, then bent to lift the bigger ones. Her luggage was really heavy. No wonder she was offering five dollars!
A man in a peaked cap spoke through a loudhailer. ‘All the passengers must board the last tender. Last tender now boarding!’ he bellowed, loud as a foghorn. The line of passengers began to move slowly forward and with them the touts, me included. My mind was totally on the task of lifting the cases. The woman walked beside me and seemed anxious about her luggage; she kept looking at it as if counting the number of suitcases all of the time.
‘This boy is working for me,’ she croaked in her foreign accent (
ziss boy iss vurkink far mee
) to the ticket man as we shuffled towards the quayside. A sharp blast of cold air rose from the dark sea, refreshing and salty.
‘Very well, Madam.’ The man in uniform had his arms stretched out, keeping the line moving.
The tender took passengers and their luggage to and from the
Lusitania
with other supplies. It was much bigger than a
rowing boat, with lots of seats on deck and a small engine house in the stern. The old woman balanced herself with an arm over my shoulder as we went unsteadily along the gangplank. It was difficult passing the luggage down into the bobbing boat, but a man helped me and placed it in the boat. The tender was tied up and straining against its moorings, and I was suddenly conscious of the great power of the sea. The woman and I sat together with the luggage between us. She had one arm stretched across two suitcases and she told me to hold the others. She is fussy, I thought!
At last a sailor loosened the tow-ropes from the steel bollards, and the engine started to throb and hum as it veered towards the great dark mass of choppy sea. The lights of Queenstown grew dim and far away, and the cold night air made me shiver. My plan had worked so far and despite the ache in my back from the schoolbag under my coat and from lifting the luggage, at last I began to feel a sense of great excitement. I was on my way!
‘What is your name?’ the lady asked.
‘Finbar.’ Speaking seemed to make her less anxious, so I asked politely, ‘And what is your name, Ma’am?’
‘Please hold on to the luggage. Please!’ she said bluntly, ignoring my question.
