'What on earth do you think you're doing?' she demanded.
Jimmy choked down his mouthful of food. 'Nothing — she said I could help myself.'
The nurse's eyes narrowed. 'That poor girl hasn't spoken since she arrived here.'
'In that case,' said Jimmy, 'I'm lying.'
He grabbed the tray and took off.
Mohican stood in the middle of the barracks, resting his foot on Jimmy's back and glaring around the gaunt, starving, exhausted troop.
'Charge one — stealing food from a starving child. Charge two — refusing to halt when ordered to do so by a superior officer. Charge three — resisting arrest. Charge four — bleeding on an officer's boot without permission. Charge five — possession of a smart mouth. Have you anything to say in your own defence, Private Armstrong?'
Jimmy knew exactly what Mohican was doing. He was willing Jimmy to say something sarcastic, something defiant, to just open his bloody lips — he'd put up a bit of a fight when they'd eventually cornered him — and come out with something to make matters even worse. Jimmy knew it, and he also knew he couldn't resist, he couldn't help himself. He was Lucky Jimmy Armstrong, guaranteed to make a bad situation even worse.
'Well?' Mohican demanded. 'Anything to say, Armstrong?'
The words felt thick and unwieldy in his swollen mouth. 'Yes . . . sir. I just wanted to say . . . that the pie . . . was really, really . . . nice . . .'
Mohican thumped his boot hard into Jimmy's back. Jimmy couldn't stifle the cry of pain.
'Five charges, Private Armstrong, and I find you guilty on all counts. Once again the punishment applies to this entire troop. You will learn your lesson, Private Armstrong! No breakfast for anyone!'
There was no reaction. They had expected it. They stood silently. Only one emotion filled the air.
Pure hatred.
'OK,' Mohican snapped, 'six o'clock start tomorrow morning, so lights out in ten minutes. We begin with a boxing competition. Private Armstrong will be first in the ring. He will have both hands tied behind his back. Now I need someone willing to punch his stupid head off. Any volunteers?'
Every single hand was raised without hesitation.
18
Arrival
There were, of course, some people on the Titanic who simply weren't interested. Hard-bitten crew who'd seen everything before; passengers who'd lost interest in pretty much everything since the plague had struck — or who might just have been like that anyway. But virtually everyone on board was outside, lining the rails, for the mighty ship's arrival in New York.
It had limped along so slowly over the past few days, and with daybreak the coast had been swathed in mist, so nobody outside of the captain and his officers on the bridge really had a firm idea of how close they were — but then the mist had lifted and there she was, the Statue of Liberty, torch aloft. There was something magical about seeing her. She still spoke of hope and welcome, even though the people looking at her from every deck now knew not to expect anything. Claire was on the top deck, surrounded by her team, all genuinely excited, chatting away and pointing. She was looking at Lady Liberty through her telescopic lens — the only one amongst them who could actually pick out the weeds snaking up the green statue and the birds' nests lining her crown. She supposed in the good old days someone would have been employed to stop the old lady looking like she was homeless. But Claire said nothing. Instead she trained her lens on the harbour, before moving it up and across a skyline familiar from a thousand movies. She wished Jimmy was with her. They would have had a grand adventure on the streets of Manhattan.
Though they were busting to get ashore, Captain Smith, as ever, was taking no chances. It had been a battle just to get the ship this far, so no detailed planning had yet been made as far as shore visits were concerned. He would not be rushed. The Titanic dropped anchor just off Liberty Island. The captain, showing how much he respected what the news team were doing, chose to address the passengers and crew alike through a special edition of the paper instead of addressing them over the PA or just printing off his own message. Claire was quite proud of that. She devoted the whole of the front page to his statement. And even rewrote part of it, because it was dead boring.
His main point was — millions of people had died in New York. It was probably rife with disease. If there were survivors, they were probably rife with disease. If you got ashore and became infected with anything, you might not be allowed back on. The safety of the ship was paramount. Teams would go ashore to ascertain conditions in the city and secure the vital part required to fix the engines, which was the primary reason for coming to New York. Then the Titanic would continue its voyage.
One of the reporters, Andy, stood beside Claire, looking wistfully at the city. 'Do you think FAO Schwarz qualifies as essential supplies?'
'FAO Schwarz?'
'Toy store. They say it's the biggest in the world. There's lots of young kids on board, we could do with getting a load more toys. You know, the latest electronic games, loads of cool stuff.'
'Would this be for you, Andy, or the kids?'
'Oh the kids, definitely. But you know, if you want someone to go and check it out, well, I'm happy to volunteer.'
'You'd put your life on the line for some computer games?'
Andy thought about it for a few moments. 'For the kids, definitely.'
'You're very brave,' said Claire. 'And misguided, if you think the captain is going to let you off to go shopping for toys.'
Andy grinned at her. 'Talking of misguided, how did Alan's interview with that minister turn out?'
'You mean Brian's?' she asked. Andy shrugged. 'I don't know, haven't seen it yet.'
'Probably still working on it,' said Andy. 'Are you sure he has an IQ of 140?'
'I'm not sure of anything.'
'If he's so smart, how come he can't make a better cup of tea?'
'Wait'll you see,' said Claire. 'He'll surprise us. The interview will be brilliant.'
'I'd prefer better tea.'
Everyone on the Times was feeling upbeat about the arrival in New York, despite the captain's warnings. Certainly they would have to scramble later on to have their reports from the city in time for publication, but that was part and parcel of being a journalist. Deadlines! But there were a number of mundane tasks to be completed prior to going ashore — Claire wanted to run a series of features about passengers who'd been with the ship right from the start but were now going to leave its relative safety and take their chances onshore. A number of these interviews had been carried out already, but her journalists hadn't quite gotten round to writing them up. Now that they were needed it was proving difficult to get her staff focused on the task. All they were really interested in was New York.
Ty was finding it particularly hard to settle. He had no idea what he would find if and when he made it as far as New Jersey — or if he would return to the ship. Since his parents had died the people on board had become his family. But if he found survivors of his real family out there he would find himself torn. Blood was thicker than water. Now, every time he tried to continue with his article, he only managed a few words before sitting back and sighing.
'This is impossible,' he said. 'And now there isn't even anyone to make the tea.'
'Make it yourself,' said Debs.
'Where is Wonder Boy anyway?'
'Give him a break, would you?'