Forget Me Not Read Online Free PDF Page A

far life aboard the
Titanic
is rather dull. It all looks spectacular, but Mother won’t let us do much at all. How I’d love to explore the ship without her
.
    Can you believe there is a swimming pool on board? And a gymnasium, Turkish baths and even squash courts? All for first-class passengers, so I suppose I shan’t be visiting them. But I would like to see them
.
    Thomas and I met one of the musicians, an old chap with a huge moustache, and today I happened upon a most annoying boy, who has the most insolent green eyes. He is quite tall I suppose with dark, wavy hair, like Matthew Somerville’s, only darker. I hope I don’t come across him often, it would be far too vexing. I swear he is American. Perhaps Mrs Somerville is correct and Americans are uncouth
.
    Father is his usual gregarious self and chats to anyone who will listen. Mother is even pricklier than she has been the last few months. Her ill temper makes me feel … oh, girls, I shall be honest. But you must promise not to tell a soul
.
    I’m filled with the worst feeling – it’s like a black tar that clings to me. Everyone says this is the safest, most luxurious ship in the world, but something about it is extremely unsettling
.
    Perhaps I’m just fearful for Bea. Whatever will happen to her if this move to America doesn’t improve her health? Or maybe Mother’s ill temper is rubbing off
on me. Whatever the cause, I feel simply dreadful
.
    Yes, I can hear you both. I’m just fretting over leaving home and my friends. And you are correct, but it’s more than that
.
    An American lady dressed in a linen shirt with lace trim has just bustled in here to “write a note before we reach Queenstown”. I can just hear Mrs Sommerville saying, “Why must Americans be so loud and confident?” Do you think I will become like them? Announcing every little thought to strangers?
    Mother has arrived
.
    I promise to write again the moment we dock in New York
.
    Farewell for now, my dearest friends
,
    Evelyn Alice Gilmore

11
THOMAS GILMORE
    Hugh led the way down the stairs from the second-class promenade to the saloon deck. “There are about six boiler rooms I think,” he said. “Not that we saw all of them.”
    “Are the boiler rooms on the orlop deck?” asked Thomas, hoping it wasn’t a silly question.
    “The orlop deck, at the very bottom of the ship,” said Meggie.
    With each deck Meggie, Hugh and Thomas descended, the noise of the engines grew until it drummed against Thomas’s skull. In an area marked “crew only” the walls were metal and dotted with rivets. At the end of the corridor, Hugh pointed to a closed door, with what looked like a wheel for a handle.
    Hugh cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, “That will take us into the boiler room.” He spun the wheel handle. When he opened the door the roar of the engines and the hiss of steam rolled out. Hugh stepped onto what seemed to be a metal landing.
    Thomas hesitated, but when Meggie stepped around him, he followed.
    Thomas gasped. The room and the boilers were massive and dwarfed the men. One look at the coal and ash mingling with sweat staining the stokers’ faces and clothes, and Thomas understood why they were called the black gang. Most of the men shovelled coal from the floor into the furnaces, the insides of which glowed orange. As fast as the men fuelled the fires, more coal tumbled from chutes onto the floor. Other men pushed barrows and still more men poked long metal poles to stoke the flames.
    “Oi, you lot,” shouted someone with a rough voice. “You shouldn’t be in here.”
    Hugh tapped Thomas on the shoulder. “Time to go.” He sprinted out the boiler room door. Thomas and Meggie raced after him, not stopping until they reached a staircase.
    “What shall we explore next?” asked Hugh. “The swimming pool on middle deck, or the gymnasium on boat-deck?”
    As Thomas caught his breath, he realised the stairs were more ornate than those he had climbed earlier.