Stoker Men

The ship’s alarm bells and the flashing red lights crawling under the bunk room door brought John out of his already fitful sleep. He jumped out of the tiny space that was the sleeping quarters for the black gang, the men that kept the furnace going and the ship sailing.

“Johnny, get a move on, we have to get outta here, she’s bloody going down, six is underwater.” Boiler room six had taken the impact, the water-tight door temporarily giving the 150 stokers time to try and heed the call to come on deck.

“Johnny, come on.” The wide eyed terror was not something he recognised in Willie McGrath. William James McGrath was a stoker on the titanic, a young man from Wexford, Ireland – he toiled hard everyday at the side of Johnny – John James McCabe from Enniskillen in the North of Ireland.

The two men had bonded over dreams and ambitions.

“Only a couple of years ,Willie, and we can get out of this hell pit.”

That’s what it felt like – hell– stoking the furnaces, sweltered with the relentless heat. They made each other laugh though, always managing to find some joy in the day even if it was just stroking off ''another day done'' in John's tiny notebook – “another day to freedom Willie!” he would exclaim.

They talked about their families, the sweet hearts left behind waiting, the ambition of setting up home in Amerikay as they would call it. They would come home, marry their girls and all set sail as passengers this time, bound for their new lives.

They too would be clean shaven with a new suit of clothes, probably the same suit that they married in. They too would stand on deck and wave to the people on the pier side - but that was all in the future, the fires of hell would need to be stoked for awhile yet.

The narrow passageway was heaving with sweaty men, Irish, English and a couple of Welsh, all ruddy and wearing the same grey vest or shirtless. Bodies and faces streaked in grime and covered in coal dust.

They made their way through the dimly lit galley ways and one by one climbed the ladders to the higher decks – each step up and the sense of urgency seemed to increase, the men becoming more agitated with each other, pushing and jostling to get to the front, each new ladder heightening the intensity of the men’s desperation and intolerance.

John felt a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Push on there lad”. He turned to see Big Pat. Pat was a foreman, one of thirteen, but he was very different, he was an amicable man- unlike some of the others, he didn’t laugh at their ambitions. Pat treated the men like human beings and not some worthless body devoid of human emotion, capable only of shovelling coal and stoking fires. He was only a couple of years older than John and Willie but he was an old soul – he had a level head and most of the men respected him, he had never been beaten in an arm wrestle and the only one brave enough to break up a fight. John felt a sense of relief seeing Pat- his very presence brought hope and some sort of comfort even.

They could hear the steel crashing on steel, the ship groaning and shrieking akin to a banshee- they knew the boilers had toppled at this stage. Willie stopped ahead of John and looked back.

“Go on ahead lad, keep going, just keep going!” hollered Pat.

“Willie move, will you move!” – John had to push Willie who had come to a stand still. “Bloody move Willie, we are nearly there just keep bloody moving”.

The top deck was pandemonium but eerily quiet, there were only men and crew to be seen and a few couples. John noticed an elderly man and woman wrestling with a rope.

“Tie us together please!'' she cried to him.

''I want to be with him, I don’t want to die in that sea alone, I don’t want us to float apart, please.”

The elderly man reiterated his wife's pleading.

“The life boats are gone young man- she wouldn’t go. I would be grateful if you could honour my wife's request .

" Give yourselves a chance!" said John.

“No son- we are ready, please do this for us, we will not last in the water and we will get separated. We thank God for our many years but we are going together”.

The ship lurched and the couple lost their balance,.John not knowing if he was right or wrong quickly tied the couple together, face to face with their arms around each other. “Thank you son, now save yourself, God be with you”.

John turned to see Willie standing at the rails.

“Come on Willie, there is no time. We will have to jump.”

“I can’t jump Johnny, I can’t”

“You bloody well will Willie, give yerself a chance! For God Sake man, what about Mary at home? Jump for Mary”.

The band that had been playing in the background was only becoming apparent to John now. "Nearer my God to thee" they were playing. Nearer my God to thee.

The lights went out and the ship was plunged into darkness. Johnny felt for Willie and tried to push him over.

“You first Johnny, promise I will go after ye”.

“God Almighty save us” said John. “Don’t let me down Willie, you go, straight after, ye hear, for Mary, OK?.”

May 14th 1964 Philidelphia

John was lost in deep Titanic thought, something he had spent his life avoiding. Fifty two years had passed and John smiled to himself.

“Thanks be to God I won’t have to endure the 100th anniversary”.

The constant reminders, radio shows, newspaper articles, television programmes, movies, it was relentless in the run up to the fiftieth anniversary. An intrusion for John.

His memories were like boiler room six, shut down, water tight. But here in this quiet place he allowed himself to gently pull back that door. He thought about the men that he later learned had to stay behind to keep a couple of boilers going giving light to the ship for a while longer.

“Heroes they were”, he sighed.

He was there in the boiler room again, laughing with Willie, shovelling coal, making plans, trying to make it through the day. The two of them holding tight to the day they got out of hell.

He thought about the elderly couple and knew now after his bitter experience at sea he had done the right thing.

He thought about all the stokers and their black faces and grimy bodies, their sunken eyes – he was haunted by those coal streaked faces, some he knew well, others not so much. Which of those faces made it, which didn’t. John was not one for attending any Titanic services or meet ups, he wanted to erase it all so he kept his head down and buried it. He was a quiet man that kept his friends few but close.

Thoughts turned to Willie again, he could picture the unfamiliar look of terror in Willies’s eyes, eyes that he only had known as twinkling, joyful and innocent. He recalled that time on the ship with Willie, promising he would jump after John but not before. He quickly turned his thoughts to happier times with Willie, to laughter shared.

He thought of Mary and wondered how she was coping, the love of Willie's life.

John rose to his feet and clutched the pew in front tight, just like he had clutched the ship's railing with Willie that night, holding it all in, trying to be strong in the usual John way.

“Dearly Beloved, we gather here today to celebrate the life of a dear friend, a son, brother, husband and father – a survivor – William James McGrath."

Johnny felt a strong hand rest heavy on his shoulder, he turned and nodded at Pat.