Spirit of the Titanic (4 page)

T
hat evening I decided, for a change, to have dinner among the wealthy in the first-class dining room. As soon as the bugle sounded out at 7:00 p.m., calling the diners to dine, I rushed to join them. The whole first-class experience fascinated me. For one thing these people with their top hats and sparkling jewels had paid a whopping £870 each for their first-class ticket. This meant, however, that they could use any of the facilities for free: the gym, the squash court, the swimming pool, the Turkish bath, and all the food they could possibly eat. I had never known such wealth existed. Of course, their section of
Titanic
, far away from the lower-class passengers, held the most incredible sights of the entire ship. Even the light switches, in the corridors and rooms, were very fanciful, compared to the switches in second or third class. They were made to look like porcelain ornaments on the walls.

Each first-class compartment had its own luxury bathroom. In third class there were just two baths for hundreds of steerage passengers. This meant either getting up very early or else being prepared to stand in a long queue of men and women, hoping that whatever bath you finally got to use wasn't too dirty from the hundreds ahead of you. Although I had noticed that, so far, the Europeans were the only ones who were interested in washing themselves every day. At home I used to have, like Ma and Da, my weekly bath on a Saturday night. That afternoon, in the common room, Isobel had told the girls where the baths could be found. The sisters thanked her but assured her they probably wouldn't need to take one since they had had a good wash the night before they came on board.

“Yes,” said Maggie. “Sure I can wait till we get to our sister's place in New York.”

The first-class dining room was the most beautiful place I had ever seen. Since I have never been in one, I wondered if this was what a hotel looked like. The best hotel in Belfast was probably Central Hotel, but I'm sure that even this was no match for this dining room. It stretched the full width of
Titanic
, which meant it was 114 feet long, and it was big enough to have over 500 people eating their dinner at the exact same time.

During the day there were long tables covered by all different kinds of food, so that the wealthy passengers did not go hungry between meals. Smelly stuff like shrimp, salmon mayonnaise, and smoked herrings. For those who didn't like fish there was plenty of meat like veal, roast beef, and ham pies. Not that I knew straightaway what I was looking at, and I only learned that the fish stuff was smelly because the two boys, whose job it was to wash and peel the thousands of potatoes, had crinkled up their noses and asked one of the junior cooks if the pink things were worms. The cook looked at them as if they were the most stupid people he had ever met, exclaiming, “Worms! Are you having me on? This here is shrimp … fish … as in from the sea. You do know what fish is, don't you?” The boys were quick to say yes. A few seconds later the cook, who obviously relished his new role as a teacher — though not a very nice one — whirled by with another dish, asking loudly, “And would I be right in thinking you wouldn't know what this is either?” The boys, who were much too timid, glanced at one another before confirming with blushing looks that the snotty man was exactly right. He gloated, pleased with his little victory. “Huh! Thought as much. Well, I'll tell you what it is then. This here, my lads, is veal, that is, the offspring of a cow.” One of the boys, the tallest one who was maybe 16 or so, nodded a little too quickly, raising suspicions immediately. The cook snapped at him eagerly, “So, clever clogs, tell us what it is then.” I wanted to cheer when the lad nervously stuttered out, much to the cook's disappointment, the correct answer: “C-calf?”

A lot of this food went to waste daily because it would be hard, I suppose, to eat in between such enormous meals as this:

And there was even more to the menu than that. A whole lot of things from the buffet and
eight
different cheeses. Apart from the potatoes, I don't think I've ever tasted anything else.

Captain Smith ate in the first-class dining room every evening and there was always a polite scrum to sit at his table. He was exactly how I pictured a ship's captain to be: medium height, old, white hair, neat white beard, and his prestigious uniform smart enough to hide his lumpish figure.

Known as the “Millionaires' Captain,” he was a great favourite with the wealthy. They treated him like he was some sort of royalty. Then again, when I thought about it, a ship in the middle of the ocean, miles away from any country, is a bit like an island in itself. The passengers are like the island's population, with rich and poor living in different parts of the same place — just like any town. So, there has to be someone in charge, someone whose responsibility is to tell everyone else what to do. On
Titanic
, this position was held by Captain Edward Smith. There was no one higher than him on board. Therefore, he was exactly like a king or a president and that is why the richest and best passengers wanted to sit at his dinner table. It was a great privilege and meant that they were important too.

I joined his group that night, but as nobody knew I was there I didn't feel any more important than usual. Everyone in the room was dressed up as if they were going to a ball. The men wore impeccable suits and shoes that looked like they had never touched the ground. Meanwhile, the women outdid one another in long, sleeveless evening gowns and chains of jewels that glistened about their throats and wrists. Even the stewards, waitresses, and the musicians looked better dressed than the ones in second and third class.

Conversation was already in full flow at the captain's table.

“But, my dear, I thought you liked the pyramids. I'm certain you said you did when we were there in front of them.”

“Well, yes, they were very grand when we first saw them but then, after a few minutes, I found myself wondering ho hum, is that it? I'm sure you'll agree with me, Captain Smith, that they are rather plain and just a bit … well … boring, when all is said and done.”

The captain took a moment to consider his feelings about one of the great wonders of the world. “I dare say, Lady Duff Gordon, that the Egyptian pyramids probably appeal more to men, especially engineers and historians. They are certainly plain when compared to the exquisite paintings and sculptures that can be found in the great galleries of Europe. And, of course, any lady of refined tastes would prefer to gaze upon something a bit more complex or, indeed, delicate.”

The plump, overdressed woman sitting two chairs away from the captain wasn't like the others at the table. She was quite outspoken and given to making lots of jokes, regardless of the sometimes chilly atmosphere that greeted her appearance in the first-class dining room and lounge. Mrs. Brown was American, and I had discovered the peculiar reason that some of the other wealthy didn't much like her; she was
nouveau riche
(French for “the new rich”). This meant that she had only been rich for a short time, and so hadn't been born into a wealthy family like most of the other first-class passengers. Her husband became a millionaire overnight, about 20 years earlier, when the mine he worked at struck gold — and lots of it.

Turning now to Captain Smith, with a mischievous smile on her face, she asked, “Or do you mean, Captain, something like
Titanic
? Do you consider her to be complex and delicate?”

The captain laughed a little. “Well, now, Mrs. Brown, I suppose that depends on who is gazing upon her. It has taken many men many, many months to design and build this ship, so you might say that, yes, she is most definitely complex. On the other hand, she is, you will be glad to hear, as far from delicate as one would wish.”

Lady Duff Gordon's husband spoke up once more. “She's unsinkable, isn't she, or practically, at any rate? That's how Harland & Wolff describe her, ‘practically unsinkable' — which amounts to the same thing, in my mind.”

Captain Smith picked up his wine glass and gently swirled the contents before putting it back on the table. “At 882 feet long and weighing over 46,000 tons,
Titanic
represents a dynamic leap not just in the shipbuilding industry but for all of us. Perhaps it is not enough to say that she is the biggest in the world — perhaps one could go further and describe her as the most modern, most perfect machine that has ever been created.”

One of the other women looked around their table before saying, “Well, I certainly couldn't imagine anything bigger or better than her. Is Lord Duff Gordon correct then, Captain? She is unsinkable?”

“As her captain I can only say, with hand on heart, that I can see no reason for this ship to flounder.”

“Aha!” said Lord Duff Gordon, holding up his glass to his fellow diners. “That's more than good enough for me.”

They all laughed, while Lady Duff Gordon called out, “Oh, I say, here's Mr. Andrews.”

I liked Mr. Andrews. He was the engineer who had helped design
Titanic
and I knew from Uncle Al that he was a real favourite in the offices of Harland & Wolff. From what I could gather his greatest trait was that he treated all men equally, from his fellow engineers to the gawkiest catch-boy. Certainly I had followed him as he strolled through the ship, on his daily rounds, and watched him greet housekeeping staff in much the same way as he greeted first-class passengers. I even remember Ed speaking fondly about him — an unusual occurrence for the sarcastic riveter. “That Mr. Andrews treats a man as a man, no matter who he is or how little money he has.”

Mr. Andrews approached the captain's table, smiling shyly under the warm gaze of all the excited ladies.

“Good evening, everyone. I hope you are enjoying your dinner.”

Mrs. Brown spoke first, commanding his attention, before anyone else could thwart her. “Well, I think it would go down a lot sweeter if you were to join us.”

Every other man at the table looked suitably insulted at this; the gentle ladies fought the urge to roll their eyes at one another. I could hear exactly what Lady Duff Gordon was thinking, and, not surprisingly, it wasn't at all complimentary:
Awful woman, with her ridiculous pronunciation and dreadful taste in clothes. Why must she sit at our table? It's not right. She has the manners of a chimney sweep.

Meanwhile, Captain Smith continued to cut and fork his food in a subtle show of studied indifference.

Mr. Andrews actually blushed but was determined not to let the loud but well-meaning woman feel any embarrassment on his account. “Mrs. Brown, it would be churlish of me to refuse such a flattering invitation. However, I shall just have coffee as I've already eaten.”

“That's absolutely fine, or ‘grand,' as my pa would say. He's Irish, you know. We were just talking now about your lovely ship. You must be so very proud of her.”

With a speedy glance sideways at the captain's blank expression, Mr. Andrews proceeded carefully, wanting to shed himself of the limelight, without causing any offence. Unlike Captain Smith, he didn't crave the company of the grandest passengers and more often than not just ate something simple in his cabin as he worked on his drawings and measurements. I overheard him telling Charles Joughin, Chief Baker, that as much as he was enjoying sailing — at last — on
Titanic
, he hated being away from his wife and baby daughter. The baker, an extremely friendly and kind-hearted man, went away with a thoughtful look on his face only to reappear a short while later with a specially baked loaf for the engineer, promising that there would be plenty more.

“Oh, it's not just me. We are all delighted with her, though, of course, she's not perfect yet, but I'm working on that.”

Polite silence and puzzled smiles greeted him and he felt obliged to give more details. “I suppose there's always room for improvement with just about anything you could think of and
Titanic
is certainly no different. For instance, how many of you ladies have found much use for the rather ample Reading and Writing Room?”

I knew what he was going to say. The Ladies' Reading and Writing Room had been built just for the women of first class; only they hardly ever went near it.

Mrs. Brown looked around her companions and found that they were in grudging agreement with her, which made her giddy inside.
Hah! Silly prudes with their turned-up noses and yellow teeth. Well, it seems, my ladies, that we're not so different after all
. “It is a most pretty space, with its white walls and elegant furniture, but, to be perfectly honest, its immense size makes me feel almost lonely as any other occupants always seem so far away from wherever I choose to sit.”

“That is exactly right, Mrs. Brown,” agreed Mr. Andrews. “I'm afraid it's a bit of a blunder on my part. I had thought that each evening, upon finishing dinner, the ladies would leave the men to their cigars and brandy and retire to the Reading and Writing Room, which only goes to show how out of step I am in these modern times.”