'No,' said Jimmy.
'Why not?'
'Just because.'
'I'd push you overboard. Even if you weren't sick.'
Jimmy smiled at that. He lifted another stack of papers. 'Come on, give me a hand with these.'
***
The paper also contained interviews with several of the Puerto Ricans who'd been allowed on board by Captain Smith. There were forty of them in all. They had nervously approached Jonas Jones as he supervised the refuelling. They were starving and ragged, their children crying and wailing, and he couldn't help but feel sorry for them. But what had seemed like a simple act of charity had quickly gotten out of hand, with thousands streaming out of the city and trying to fight their way on board. Realizing that control of the ship could quickly be lost, Captain Smith had been forced to order Jonas Jones back on board before the refuelling was completed and the Titanic had sailed out under gunfire.
Dr Hill had examined the new arrivals and found none to be suffering from the Red Death. Yet. They were the lucky ones. Tens of thousands had died. Those few Government officials who were still alive had ordered the bodies to be taken to the fortress to be burned in an attempt to stop the plague spreading. Those who were left alive in the city had to fight for every scrap of food. The water was bad; the electricity was off; gangs roamed the streets, smashing and stealing and killing. To those who had made it on board, the Titanic was like a mighty white angel arriving to take them to heaven.
The newspaper also contained information about the next port of call, the tiny island of St Thomas. It was just forty miles to the east of Puerto Rico and had a population of 56,000 — or at least it had before the plague. It had proved impossible to make radio contact with the island. They suspected the picture would be the same as in Puerto Rico, but Captain Smith was determined to stick to the itinerary, not least because he hoped they'd be able to complete the refuelling that had been interrupted in San Juan. The capital was called Charlotte Amalie, but Magens Bay on the opposite side of the island had been described by National Geographic magazine as having one of the world's ten most beautiful beaches. Jimmy had written optimistically that perhaps they could all stop off there for a swim.
It didn't seem very likely.
***
When the newspaper distribution was finished, Jimmy and Claire rounded up their delivery team and took them up to the twenty-four-hour buffet restaurant on Deck Eleven for a midnight feast. Although the team was still being paid, they too had begun to realize that their dollars were more or less worthless now and as a result they were becoming restless and less inclined to turn up for work. This was to be an attempt by Jimmy and Claire to build a team spirit. Jimmy had a speech all prepared about how important it was to keep a record of everything that happened, the role the paper played in keeping people informed and how they too could get involved in reporting stories and taking photos.
The speech was actually going down quite well, as they tore into pizza after pizza, and Jimmy was just getting to a rather more bloodthirsty version of what had happened at the fortress of San Cristobal when he was interrupted by Kitty Calhoon. She had Franklin in her arms and wanted to know if it was possible for dogs to catch the Red Death. Someone at the table said, 'Hope so,' and they all dissolved into hysterical laughter.
Miss Calhoon, who was partially deaf, didn't catch on. Jimmy, struggling to keep his face straight, was trying to put a coherent answer together when he was saved by a sudden crashing from behind. They all turned to see First Officer Jeffers getting involved in a shouting match between chef Pedroza and a group of the new Puerto Rican passengers. There were several smashed plates already on the floor. As they watched Pedroza picked up another and threw it down.
Jimmy sensed a story. Claire wordlessly lifted her camera and together they crossed the floor of the restaurant just in time to observe Pedroza jab a finger into Jeffers' chest.
'Touch me again, Mr Pedroza, and I will have you locked up.'
'Then you get them out of here!'
'They have as much right to be here as you have, sir.'
'No! They eat our food, there is less left for us. We don't know how long we'll be on this ship! We have no food to spare!'
He jabbed at the First Officer again.
'Mr Pedroza! I'm warning you!'
Dozens of other diners had gotten up from their tables and were now gathering around. One, an overweight man in a too-tight T-shirt, shouted: 'He's right! We paid for that food — it should be kept for us, not given to some refugees!'
Other passengers nodded in agreement.
'There is more than enough food to spare. You know that, Mr Pedroza.'
'Not for long! Not if we keep feeding these people!'
'Do you want us to starve them?'
'I want you to send them back where they came from!'
This drew a round of applause from some of the passengers.
'Mr Pedroza, this is a direct order from Captain Smith. These people are guests on this ship and are to be treated as such. Now, you will feed them!'
Pedroza glared at Jeffers, then turned on his heel and stormed back into the kitchens. Jeffers stared after him for a moment before addressing the other passengers. 'If you'll all just go back to your seats. . .'
Some of them did; others walked out of the restaurant, muttering and casting filthy looks towards the nervous Puerto Ricans. Jeffers turned to the buffet table, lifted a slice of pizza, put it on a plate, then knelt down before one of the refugee kids. 'There you go, son,' he said.
'No like pizza,' said the boy.
***
Jimmy couldn't sleep. The incident in the restaurant had disturbed him. When they'd been stranded on Puerto Rico, getting back to the ship had been the most important thing because it represented safety, and home. Even though people were sick and dying on board there was something tremendously comforting about the Titanic — not just its size and the fact that it dominated everything; it was the way the crew and passengers looked upon it as their best hope in a ruined world. He had thought that after the public meeting in the theatre everything had been resolved, that they would face whatever problems there were together. The argument over the pizza had shown how wrong he was. People could turn on each other very quickly. The ship was just like Puerto Rico — it was an island, and once order was lost it could very quickly descend into anarchy.
If he couldn't sleep, well, there was no reason why his best friend should be allowed to either. And she was his best friend. He knew it, and she knew it. They came from different worlds, but they'd clicked. But just friends. Nothing more.
Jimmy took the elevator up to her suite. With both her parents in the hospital wing, she was by herself. She was sitting out on the veranda, wearing a long-sleeved sweatshirt with the hood pulled up against the breeze. Jimmy took a Diet Coke from her mini bar and sat down beside her. She had tears in her eyes.
'Your dad?'
'Don't think he'll last much longer. Mum's getting worse. Dr Hill's very nice, but he's not a very good liar.'
'Maybe he's pretending not to be a very good liar, so you'll get the message without him having to be hard on you.'
She thought about that. 'Maybe he's pretending to be pretending to be a not very good liar.'