LITMIR.BIZ

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clear of the railings and were dangling by the ship’s sides. Notices had circulated, warning passengers that all portholes must be closed and outside lights extinguished after dark; men were even forbidden from smoking on deck. Everyone assumed that if there were to be a U-boat attack it would come that night and some ladies announced they were too nervous to stay in their cabins but would sleep in the public rooms.

      ‘Don’t be surprised if you wake in the night to feel the ship zig-zagging,’ Mr Hook warned. ‘That’s what captains are instructed to do if there’s any German activity in the area. It stops U-boats fixing their sights on you.’

      ‘Surely the Royal Navy will send us an armed escort? I was positively assured they would,’ Mrs Williams said.

      ‘I still refuse to believe they will target a civilian ship,’ Mrs Hook averred firmly. ‘Now stop it, dear. You’re upsetting Miss Nielsen.’

      Gerda smiled to show she didn’t mind; what was churning her up was the thought that they would dock in Liverpool the following night, to disembark on Saturday morning, and she had no idea if she would ever see Jack again. Might he simply say ‘Goodbye, nice to have met you’ and leave without so much as exchanging addresses?

      The same thing seemed to be on Jack’s mind too, because as they strolled on the blacked-out deck that evening, he asked, ‘Do you think you will stay long in South Shields?’

      ‘I don’t know.’

      ‘It’s just … there’s something I have to tell you. I didn’t like to mention it earlier in the voyage lest it made you fret, but German Zeppelins dropped bombs on South Shields back in April. The town’s bound to be a target because of the shipyards and I couldn’t bear you to get hurt.’

      ‘In April?’ Gerda cried. ‘Might my sister have been hit?’

      ‘The news report said a woman and child in Wallsend were injured but no one was killed. They don’t live in Wallsend, do they?’

      ‘No, thank God.’

      ‘But I don’t like to think of you going there, because the Zeppelins are sure to return.’

      ‘Where else could I go? I have no other family.’ She turned to him and noticed a strange expression on his face. Even in the dim glow of the stars, she could see he was biting his lip, fidgeting with his fingers.

      ‘That’s just the thing … If you would permit it, I’d like to be your family. What I’m trying to say is that I have fallen for you, Gerda. I’d be honoured if you would consider accepting my hand in marriage.’

      Her mouth opened but she couldn’t speak, overcome with emotion.

      Taking her silence for hesitation, he continued: ‘Granted, we haven’t known each other for long, but we get on well, you know we do. If it’s money you’re worried about, I have several thousand dollars saved from my work in America, enough for a nice house and a bit put aside as savings. I’ve got a good job and after the war there’s bound to be work in telephones. I would make sure you had every comfort.’

      ‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘Yes, I would like to marry you.’ Tears flooded her eyes, spilled down her cheeks, and he took her in his arms and pressed her against him as she cried. For so long, she had wanted a husband, someone to whom she could belong, and now it was offered all she could do was sob.

      ‘I’m sorry, Snow Maiden. I didn’t mean to upset you,’ he chuckled, hugging her tight.

      *

      Jack and Gerda told the Hooks and Annie Williams of their engagement next morning at breakfast, and no one seemed remotely surprised.

      ‘Look at you two, you’re made for each other,’ Mrs Hook beamed. ‘I’m only surprised it’s taken you six days to pop the question!’

      ‘It’s so romantic,’ Annie cried. ‘Oh, isn’t that lovely!’

      The delight at their announcement mingled with a general sense of euphoria that the Germans hadn’t attacked the night before. Now it was daylight, all they had to do was sail round the southern tip of Ireland and up the Irish Sea to Liverpool.

      ‘Where will you get married?’ Mrs Hook asked, and they caught eyes and smiled: they hadn’t got round to discussing such details yet.

      Suddenly a deep, mournful sound reverberated round the dining hall and everyone jumped, spilling cups of tea and dropping egg-laden forks to the floor.

      ‘It’s the ship’s foghorn,’ Jack assured Gerda. ‘It’s a foggy morning.’

      ‘I don’t like the sound; it’s eerie. If there are U-boats in the area won’t it alert them to our position?’

      ‘I’m sure the captain knows what he’s doing,’ Jack replied. But when they went up on deck later and peered out into the dense swirling mist, he frowned and seemed about to say something before stopping himself. They were travelling slowly, with visibility of just a few yards.

      The foghorn kept blasting until around midday when sun burned through the mist revealing a view of emerald coastline speckled with fishermen’s cottages. The sea was a smooth dark navy.

      ‘Oh, isn’t that a lovely sight!’ Gerda cried.

      Passengers flocked on deck and the relief was palpable. They were almost home. Everyone was smiling, and even those who’d kept themselves to themselves so far had a cheerful word with their neighbours.

      At one o’clock Gerda and Jack went down for the second sitting of lunch and they chatted about what they would do on disembarking: he wanted her to come and meet his mother, then they would travel across to South Shields to see Thomasine. They agreed to send her a telegram explaining that Gerda would be a week late. She couldn’t wait to share the news that she was coming home with a husband-to-be – and not just any old husband, but a clever, brave, kind one, who had money and who made her laugh. She must write to Charlotte and to Else Gabrielson in Brooklyn.

      ‘My ma’s going to adore you,’ Jack was saying, when suddenly there was a sound like a door being slammed hard and the ship gave a huge jolt. Plates and glasses flew off tables and shattered on the floor.

      ‘What the …’ Jack stood up, looking around. There was a deep rumbling sound now and the ship seemed to be shuddering. ‘Oh, Jesus Christ, Gerda!’ He grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. ‘Come quickly!’

      ‘What is it?’ Her throat was tight. No one else seemed to be reacting as they sprinted out of the dining saloon and down the staircase towards their cabins.

      ‘We’ll get your life jacket first, then mine,’ Jack said.

      ‘Have we been hit?’

      ‘It looks that way. Either that or we’ve collided with something.’

      In her cabin, Jack pulled the bulky cork life jacket from the top of the wardrobe and showed Gerda how to slip it over her head and tie the cords around her. The floor felt odd beneath her feet and she realised it was tilting. She held onto the door frame to steady herself.

      In the corridor some women were hysterical. ‘What shall we do?’ one cried and Jack yelled at them to get their lifejackets and make their way up to the boat deck. The whole time, he didn’t let go of Gerda’s hand; he was holding it so tightly that she didn’t feel afraid, even though they could smell smoke drifting down the passageway.

      Once Jack had his life jacket they climbed the main stairs; they were at an odd angle so she had to cling to the banister. ‘We’re listing to starboard,’ Jack said, and Gerda felt reassured he knew this term. She saw a steward’s trolley rolling along a corridor then hitting a wall and overturning with a clatter.

      They were both out of breath when they emerged through the main entrance onto the boat deck. The air was thick with glowing cinders floating in the breeze. A column of black smoke was rising from a funnel right in the dead centre of the ship.

      ‘Was

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