Free Spirit of the Titanic by Nicola Pierce Page A

couldn’t be helped, perhaps, but it certainly could be reduced in size. So, it was that the ship clumsily skimmed the berg, resulting in the deck below us being showered by a brief avalanche of ice that had been torn free.
    And that seemed to be it.
    Fred and Reggie winked at one another, both presuming that there had been some sort of hit but neither completely sure, except for the bits of ice on the deck. They had neither heard nor felt the expected bang. Watching the iceberg disappear behind Titanic ’s massive funnels, Reggie bumped against Fred, his face full of relief and gratitude.
    â€œPhew! That was close, hey?”
    I wasn’t so sure.
    As we had passed the iceberg, I’d felt Titanic shudder and then I’d heard what sounded to me like a groan. It reminded me of the low, brief sound that escaped my mother’s lips when we heard that Da was gone — such a small, insignificant sound. I had no idea that it meant what it did — that she was destroyed forevermore.
    Some passengers gathered on deck to inspect the chunks of ice, a few of the men kicking around one particular piece that was almost the size of a soccer ball.
    Within a couple of minutes, I spied Captain Smith heading for the bridge and followed him, for the want of something better to do. It was obvious that there had been an event of some kind. Officer Hitchens’s forehead was covered in sweat and it looked to me that his extra firm grip on the wheel was the only thing that was keeping him upright. Meanwhile, his commanding officer’s face was pale and his breathing forced. Taking in the scene before him the captain seemed only a little bit curious.
    â€œGood evening, gentlemen, has something happened? I thought I felt a slight lurch.”
    Officer Murdoch looked relieved to see his boss. “Sir, I think we’ve hit an iceberg.”
    â€œI see. Well, you better have the carpenter make a quick tour, just in case. Call a halt in the meantime, until we get the all-clear. And perhaps we’d better get hold of Thomas Andrews too — as fast as you can.”
    â€œAye, aye, Captain.”
    With that, the engines were shut down, rendering Titanic lifeless — or so it seemed to me.
    * * *
    I didn’t want to but I felt compelled to do a tour of my own. I could hear a strange sound that I assumed was coming from below. Taking my time, I passed through the different compartments. Not one person looked worried, although a few had noticed that the engines were mute. A woman in first class ventured out into the passageway and hailed a passing steward.
    â€œIs there something wrong? Why ever have we stopped?”
    The man was politely dismissive. His shift was over for the night and he was on his way back to his own quarters.
    â€œI shouldn’t worry, madam. The ship just hit an iceberg. I’m sure we’ll be on our way again in a few minutes. Good night.”
    The noise grew louder and louder as I made my way further into Titanic ’s belly.
    Down the steps I went to be almost run over, if that were possible, by the five postal workers. Each of them was one step behind the other, all tugging their own colossal bag overflowing with letters and packages. This was strange behaviour indeed, but the reason for it was made clear as soon as I entered the Mail Room. There was water, freezing green sea water spewing in through the wall. It was a terrifying sight. The sheets of metal that had been hammered into place by Charlie and Ed, using the rivets I had fetched and carried at great speed, had proved no match against the iceberg — the biggest, grandest, most powerful ship in the world had just been punctured by a block of frozen water.
    And then, without meaning to, I suddenly found myself remembering a conversation that had taken place on the morning of the launch. At the time, of course, I thought it was nonsense, even comical. Ed was showing off his expert knowledge, as usual, pointing