Toward Titanic.
Tom ran to the yard. Men cleared a path for him as he pushed his way through the crowd. He didn’t have to go far. On the deck, just a few feet from the ship, a small group was gathered around a body. Tom faltered at the sight of blood and flesh scattered around the victim, and his last steps were slow. There was no reason to hurry.
“John Kelly.” The name was supplied by the foreman as Tom knelt next to him. “He fell from the slipway.”
Tom stared at the body. “He’s just a lad.”
“He were nineteen, sir.”
Tom glanced up to see the owner of the choked voice. Another lad, blinking rapidly through free-falling tears, stood twisting his cap. The boy didn’t look at Tom. “We started workin’ here the same day. His Ma always let me stay for supper.”
Tom stood and put an arm around the boy, turning him away from the body. He saw a couple of men coming with a stretcher. “What’s your name, lad?”
“Danny O’Connor, sir.”
“You can take the day off, Danny. Go home, if you need to. Or…” Tom paused, glancing toward the men approaching.
The boy noticed them, and swallowed hard, swiping a sleeved arm across his face. “I’d like to stay with ’im, sir, if I may. I… I should be there when ’is Ma finds out.”
Tom nodded, patting the lad’s back. He had to swallow hard himself, to clear the ache in his throat, so he could give orders. Lord Pirrie insisted that all accident victims be taken to the hospital, even if they were dead. Tom helped them get the body onto the stretcher—a miserable job, but the men who would have to clean off the deck would have an even harder time. George was taking charge of that part of things, so Tom went to get one of the firm’s cars, kept on site for emergencies.
On the way, he spotted Ham. “Call Casey for me, will you? Ask her to meet us at the hospital.” He hated to get her involved. She was five months pregnant, and he knew this would greatly upset her. But she would be furious if he left her out, and in truth, she was a real help. She would be there to talk to the mother, help with other children or with cooking—whatever needed to be done. He couldn’t imagine how he’d gotten through these situations before marrying her.
But as the day went on, through all the painful confusion of helping the shocked mother deal with doctors and paperwork and funeral arrangements, another thought kept intruding. A thought that made him reel with fury and betrayal. But he blocked it off until he could get home and talk to Sam.
It was after ten before Tom and Casey limped into the house, having stayed with Mrs. Kelly until they were sure she was well taken care of. Casey had helped with the younger children until Mrs. Kelly’s sister arrived. The usual grapevine had made sure that all relatives and neighbors were aware of the tragedy, and by dinner, many of them had gathered at the Kelly home, bringing food and the comforting tumult of company.
Sam was waiting up for them in the parlor with his latest journal opened in his lap. He was staring into the empty fireplace, making no attempt to write. He looked up as they entered the room.
Tom stared at him a moment, fighting the rage he’d kept back all day. “Did you know?” he asked hoarsely.
Beside him, Casey started, caught unaware by his question. Sam returned the stare, not saying anything. Tom took another step toward Sam.
“Three this month, four in just two months. That has to be mentioned somewhere. Did you know these people were going to die, Sam?”
Sam was shaking his head, but he looked oddly guilty. “No. My god, Tom, no, I didn’t know.”
Tom took another step, hands clenched. “God damn it, Sam. This is not all just about me. It’s not all just about the sinking. People die, Sam, building these ships. If you know these things, you have to tell me. We have to stop everything we can.”
“I should have known.” Sam rubbed his face, wearily. “I’ve been sitting here trying to remember. I know it was told us at some point. And the memorial lists each person who died during construction, but I don’t remember the names. God help me, I should have known.”
“Stop it.” Casey stepped between them, near tears. “Both of you, stop it. Tom, Sam’s been trying to remember everything he can. Do you seriously believe he could have known this and not said anything?”
Tom’s jaw ached from clenching his teeth. “Not deliberately. But we’ve got to do better. What else goes wrong with these ships? What else can we fix?”
“Labor issues, maybe?” She was suddenly angry and Tom stepped back as she rounded on him. “What’s wrong here is the upper-class notion that workers are expendable resources. Management doesn’t have to provide a safe environment, or living wages, because there are always more workers ready to replace the ones who die. Harland & Wolff does better than a lot of companies, but they don’t come close to the right environment. You want to provide safety training for workers? Training they take during work hours and get paid for? Extra safety equipment provided by the company? Safety procedures that are audited and everyone has to follow? Worker’s compensation for injuries or deaths? Giving them time to do their jobs safely instead of rushing to meet a schedule? Want to talk about asbestos? In twenty or thirty years, people are going to start dropping dead because of their exposure to it. Do you want to fix that?”
Stung, Tom looked from her to Sam. “Is that what we need to do? Is that what the company does in the future? All those things?”
Sam held out a hand as if to placate both of them. “Look, this is stuff it takes decades to accomplish. Casey, we can’t single-handedly tear down the social structure and rebuild it in our own image. You said it yourself. Harland & Wolf is way ahead of other companies with its safety practices. Give them credit, Case.” He rubbed his forehead. “So much of this is industry specific, too, and we tend not to think of dangers until they happen. This is exactly why the Titanic sank. A failure of imagination. Not imagining the dangers that could occur and providing a way to survive. It was before your time, Casey, but do you know about the fire in the Apollo space capsule in the sixties? Something as simple as a handle to open the door from the inside could have saved those men’s lives. But no one thought of it.”
“Even when they know, they ignore it if it costs too much,” she said bitterly. “They didn’t change the O-rings on Challenger. They didn’t do anything about the foam shedding on Columbia. Even these Olympic-class ships are going out without a double hull. All management decisions, made even though they knew of the dangers.”
Tom winced, but said nothing. Silence gripped them all, by turns accusatory, guilty, and hopeless.
Casey jerked suddenly with a spasm, reaching around to rub her back. Tom wilted as he watched her, pregnant and weary, but still full of passion. He took her in his arms and she slipped her own around him, hugging him tenderly. “I love you,” he whispered. “I’m going to put you to bed. You’ve done too much today.”
She nodded, let go of him to drop a kiss on Sam’s head, and went to bed.
Work did not slow down, and on a late evening in August, Tom left the administration building to head home at last. Nine o’clock, and he had to be back before six in the morning. He was scrambling to have Olympic’s shell complete in time for the October launch date. There was a point in every ship’s development when he despaired that it would ever get done by the deadline. If one more vendor called him to ask for an extension…
He paused as a figure approached him, peripherally aware that there were a few other figures keeping out of sight in the shadows to his side. He was somewhat relieved to see it was Mike Sloan approaching. Trouble then, but not anything he wouldn’t live through.