was filling up now. Jack took the woman’s hand and he and a seaman helped her climb up to the rail then step outwards across the gap. Gerda passed the baby to the seaman, who stretched as far as he could and passed it into its mother’s arms, whereupon it woke with an affronted wail.
‘Now you, my love,’ Jack said to Gerda, stroking her face quickly, tenderly. ‘I’ll be right behind you.’
‘Do you promise?’ she asked. ‘Remember: we sink or swim together.’
‘I promise.’ His eyes were serious. ‘Hurry now.’
Gerda took his hand and leapt across the gap, turning her ankle slightly on landing. When she looked back she saw Jack deep in conversation with the seaman.
‘We’re going to lower the boat first,’ he called to her. ‘It will be safer. I’ll help with the ropes then I’ll join you when you’re down on the water.’
The lifeboat lurched violently and everyone screamed. ‘Come now, Jack. Please!’ Gerda yelled over the din. How would he get into the boat once it was in the water?
He didn’t seem to hear, busy tugging on a rope, leaning so his body acted as a counterweight. The two men tried their utmost but couldn’t hold the lifeboat level and its bow dipped abruptly. Gerda grabbed onto the sides and held tight. They dangled, almost vertical, for a moment then one of the ropes slipped and they were falling upright. There was a smash when the bow hit the surface, then the shock of cold water closing over her head, the sting of salt in her nose and roaring in her ears. She surfaced quickly, buoyed up by the life jacket, and looked back towards the ship.
Jack was still on the Promenade Deck, about thirty feet up, scanning the water. She raised her arm to wave and as soon as he spotted her, he climbed onto the rail, put his arms by his sides and jumped in feet first.
*
Jack surfaced a few yards away, spluttering and coughing, the wind knocked out of him. Gerda swam over and he clung to her, his weight pulling her lower in the water.
‘There’s something I forgot to tell you,’ he gasped. ‘I’m not a very strong swimmer.’
‘Don’t worry; I am.’ Gerda had grown up swimming with her father in the fjords of Norway and the sea off North Shields; she loved the water, and the sea temperature today, while cold, was not freezing. ‘Why don’t you take my life jacket?’ It would be tricky to transfer it from one to the other, but it made sense.
He wouldn’t hear of it though. ‘I’ll manage. We must stay close so we don’t get separated.’ All around them the ocean was teeming with people struggling and crying for help. ‘We should swim further out. I don’t think the ship’s got long to go and we don’t want to be sucked under when she goes down. That way.’ He pointed towards the horizon.
Gerda struck out, thankful the sea was so calm. The life jacket was bulky and obstructed her strokes but it would have been much harder battling through waves. A thought occurred to her and she called over her shoulder: ‘Might the U-boat captain still be out there, watching us?’
‘He’ll have got away. Wouldn’t want to hang about. A Royal Navy ship will be along soon to rescue us and they’d blow him out of the water.’
Before long, Jack was lagging behind so she stopped to wait, treading water, then let him rest awhile, holding onto her life jacket for buoyancy.
‘I’m going to unhook my skirt,’ she announced. ‘It’s weighing me down.’ She reached behind to locate the fasteners on her blue gabardine and wriggled it down her legs. This was no time for modesty.
Jack didn’t comment. He was looking back towards the ship, where there was a scene of devastation. The bow was almost submerged and people were either clinging for dear life to the railings, or hurtling, limbs flying, towards the churning water. One man was dangling from the side, holding onto a rope, when a propeller hurtled past slicing off his legs. They could see several lifeboats floating upside down but only one that had been launched successfully and it was packed full to bursting.
‘There must be more lifeboats. Keep your eyes peeled.’ Jack was shivering and Gerda put her arms round him and rubbed his back vigorously.
‘Please God we find one soon!’
And then there was a great roar, a sound of splintering wood, and the ship made a sudden plunge. The stern rose high in the air before sliding beneath the waves and it was gone in a matter of seconds. A gasp of despair rose from the souls in the water then a communal keening sound. There was a final explosion and a cloud of steam erupted from the deep, briefly marking the spot where the ship had been.
Gerda was stunned. ‘How could she have gone so quickly? It’s not even twenty minutes since we were hit. The Titanic stayed afloat for an hour and forty minutes.’
‘I s…suppose she was hit at a c…critical point.’ Jack’s teeth were chattering like castanets and Gerda hugged him again, rubbing his arms as hard as she could. She badly wanted to kiss him but couldn’t stretch far enough over the top of the life jacket to reach his lips.
Jack seemed scared now; all the confidence he had shown on board had evaporated in the cold water. No matter, because Gerda felt strong. She would take charge. She was the swimmer. She would make the decisions.
*
Before long, Jack was too weak to swim much, but they found that if he hooked his arm through the life jacket, Gerda could tow him along. She began to head back towards the spot where the ship had disappeared, hoping that’s where any lifeboats might be found. The water was littered with deckchairs, boxes, and folk desperately trying to clamber onto any object they could find. A badly mangled body floated past face down, the arm and part of the upper chest ripped away so it looked like a joint of meat in the butcher’s window. Gerda’s stomach heaved with the horror. All around, people were crying out, desperately asking for the whereabouts of loved ones: ‘Mary Steel? Have you seen Mary Steel?’ ‘John Adams!’ ‘He-e-enry.’ ‘My baby. Where’s my baby?’ One woman had placed an infant on a jagged sheet of wood and was swimming beside it, but the child was uncannily still and quiet and Gerda feared it was dead. Pushing obstacles aside, she scanned the horizon for a lifeboat. It was hard to see over the heads of the crowd, but at last she spotted one moving away from them into open water.
‘Hang on, Jack,’ she said. ‘Hold tight.’
She struck out with all her strength. It was hard to swim front crawl in a life jacket, but it was the fastest stroke and she needed to catch that boat. Its occupants were obviously trying to get away from the survivors in the water, probably scared of being overwhelmed and sunk, but it looked as if there was room for two more, if she could only reach them.
Gerda counted the strokes in her head, breathing in every fourth stroke, keeping her face above the surface so she could see the way. Jack’s weight pulling on the life jacket made it harder. For a while it looked as though the gap between them and the boat was widening, but then it seemed to slow and she realised she was catching up. She didn’t call out until they were close by.
‘Please let us on board. There are only two of us and my fiancé doesn’t have a life jacket.’
‘Go away,’ said a woman with an aristocrat’s vowels. ‘There’s no more room.’
Gerda reached the boat and hooked one hand over the side, which was just a foot above the
