The Weight of Surviving

April 15th 1992

Thought number one: Thank you, Lord, for another day.

Thought number two: Why did you save me?

At ninety-four years old, James still woke up every morning to these two thoughts. He had lived a good life, tried to be worthy of being saved, yet the question remained.

Why had he survived when over 1,500 of his fellow passengers didn’t? Why him, when he wasn’t even supposed to be on the Titanic?

April 10th 1912

It was now or never. The last passengers were boarding, and soon they would remove the boarding ramp and close the doors.

James pulled his luggage trolley up the ramp and glanced at the remaining pile of the passengers’ bags left. Two of his colleagues were already busy loading them onto another trolley.

If he was going to do it, he had to do it now.

He entered the hold and let his eyes readjust to the dim light. Instead of emptying his trolley as he was supposed to, he pulled it deeper towards the back of the cavernous hold.

Earlier, he had created a small hiding place for himself right at the back. He now left the luggage trolley about 100 feet from it. He didn’t think anyone would come this far back now and spot the trolley, but no point risking it. Ensuring there was nobody in sight, he secured the trolley against the wall and crept inside the small, tunnel-like space he had created.

Inside, he had hidden his spare clothes as well as a little food and water. He felt certain that once the ship was out on the sea, it would be easy to blend in with the lower deck passengers.

It was eerily dark and quiet in his hiding place. There was no way of telling what was happening since no sound from the outside carried all the way to the back of the hold. He laid back and prayed to God to bless his journey.

April 15th 1992

Standing in front of his bathroom mirror, James stared at his reflection. In a few hours, he was due to talk at the yearly memorial service for those who had lost their lives on the Titanic.

He had spoken at the memorial service several times, but this year was going to be different. It was going to be his final time attending the service.

He knew he would not be around when the next anniversary of the disaster came around. The cancer that had come back a year ago had stopped responding to treatment. He was old and tired and ready to go.

Because of this, his speech was going to be more personal than before. He was going to tell the full story of his own survival.

April 10th 1912

Orphaned at the age of five, James was sent to live with an aunt and uncle who didn’t much care about another mouth to feed. He was an added burden to them and they let him know that. Every day.

Until, soon after his fourteenth birthday, he ran away. He wandered the streets of London, begging and sleeping rough. He had been loitering around the docks in London, picking up bits of work here and there, when he’d began to hear snippets about a grand ship, the Titanic, the biggest and fastest ever build that was to sail from Southampton to America.

America! That was it. He had often heard his aunt and uncle talk about America. Lamenting that they didn’t have the money to travel to the land of opportunities because they had too many mouths to feed.

James didn’t have the money either. But he knew if only he could get to Southampton, he would find a way to get on that ship.

The very next day, he had headed to Southampton. Sometimes walking, sometimes getting a ride with a farmer or travelling gypsies. He arrived in Southampton just two weeks before the departure.

When he first laid his eyes on the Titanic, shivers ran down his spine. It was a beautiful giant dominating the dock. It towered over other ships and radiated light as it bathed in the sunshine.

For two weeks, he picked up odd jobs and formed his plan. He overheard they needed people to load the ship. Luggage, food, drinks, everything people might need on their voyage across the ocean, and he got a job loading the luggage into the hold. It was the perfect job with a perfect opportunity to sneak on the ship. He took it as a sign that his plan was blessed.

Now, deep in the dark and cold belly of the Titanic, doubts crept all over his brain like ants on a carcass. Would America be any better than England? Was it really the land of dreams or was that just a myth?

The sudden roar of the engines silenced his doubts. Though he could not see the ship move, he felt the shudder of the giant of the oceans on his spine as it slowly pulled away. It was too late for doubts now. The ship had embarked and he with it.

Shaking as much from the cold as from the movement of the ship, he pulled his overcoat on top of him, made a pillow from his spare clothes and closed his eyes. He would rest while he waited for people to start milling around the ship. Then it would be safe to slip out of the hold and melt into the crowd.

When James woke up, he had no idea of how long he had slept. The light in the hold was exactly the same as it had been when he’d fallen asleep. The shuddering of the ship, however, had now transformed to a steady rhythm as the ship journeyed further away from England.

Ravenous, he ate and drank some of his meagre provisions. His hunger satisfied, he leant against the wall, letting the movement of the ship run up his spine.

As he ran over his plans for America, his spine registered the change in the vibration before his brain. The ship was slowing down. We must be approaching the first stopover in France, James thought.

He would wait until the ship would be on the move again, then he would emerge from his hiding place.

He realised he was crying when droplets fell on his hand, resting in his lap. Let them flow, nobody here to see them. An overwhelming relief and exhaustion hijacked his body. The adrenalin that had sustained him over the previous weeks subsided now he was actually on the Titanic.

His eyelids closed, and he fell back to sleep as the engines picked up speed again, thrusting the ship onwards on its journey and next stop, Ireland.

April 11th 1912

James woke up stiff as a board. His neck and back ached from his slumped sleeping position. It took a moment to register the engines were quiet. They must have reached Queenstown, Ireland.

His mouth cried out for water and his bladder for emptying.

He drank the last of his water, stuffed his overcoat and spare clothing into his sack and scrambled to his feet. Unused to the movement of the ship, he stumbled and nearly pulled over a luggage rack.

He took a moment to steady himself and to get his bearings. When he had loaded the luggage into the hold, he had noted the nearest exit to his hiding place. Slow and steady, adjusting to the movement of the vessel, he made his way towards it. He unlocked and pulled open the heavy door and slipped into the gantry swarming with fellow passengers. Nobody paid him the slightest attention as he blended into the crowd.

April 14th 1912

“Bloody hell it has got cold,” Tommy said, throwing the butt of his roll up into the ocean.

“Cold enough for icebergs.” James nodded towards the distant silhouettes and wrapped his thin coat tighter around him. He was wearing all of his clothes and still the chill got into his bones. His breath came out in clouds of vapour.

“I bloody hope that America is warmer than this.” Tommy lit another roll up. “One more to ward off the cravings before I get to bed. I’m not planning to come back out until the morning and, fingers crossed, warmer temperatures.”

James had mostly kept to himself after emerging from his hiding place; he had deemed it safer. But he had met Tommy, a man over forty years his senior, at breakfast.

Tommy had spotted James loitering.

“Don’t have the money for food have you?” He’d laid his shovel like hand on James’s shoulder.

For a moment, James had thought he’d been caught, but the man’s eyes had been friendly. James had shook his head as his stomach emitted a loud growl.

“Come, can’t let a young lad like you go around hungry.” He steered James to the breakfast bar and made him pile his plate full of eggs, bacon, and sausages.

“Thank you,” James mumbled mouth full of hot food.

“You are not even supposed to be here, are you?” Tommy gave James a shrewd look.

James considered lying, but his instinct told him Tommy was not to be fooled. Besides, the man had just got him breakfast. It was unlikely he was about to give James up to the ship’s authorities.

Over breakfast, James had opened up to Tommy about his past and how he had snuck onto the ship. From thereon, Tommy had taken James under his wing.

“You stick with me, lad. I’ve got no kids and you’ve got no parents. Perfect match, really. Besides, I’m old. It would be good to have someone young and energetic to help me with this new life in America.”

Over the next few days, Tommy told James all he knew about America and his plans. How he planned to open a bookshop.

“America is full of people who want to better themselves. And to be better, you need more knowledge, and where do you find this knowledge?” He nudged James who was still staring the at the faraway icebergs.

“You find it in books.” James turned his gaze away from the icy peaks.

“Exactly.” Tommy nodded. “I got enough from selling my tobacco shop to set up in New York.”

“How can I ever thank you enough for what you are doing for me?” James felt his eyes welling up. He blinked fiercely. He didn’t want to cry in front of his benefactor.

“Don’t thank me. Just promise that you will work hard to get our shop going.” James felt the warmth of Tommy’s hand on his shoulder. It was a warmth that spread inside and drove out the chill of the night. “Now, let’s get in and warm. Tomorrow, we can make more plans.”

April 15th 1994

Reading the names of those who didn’t survive on the memorial made it difficult to breathe. His throat constricted as he neared the familiar name of Tommy Davies.

His benefactor. The man who had not only taken James under his wing, but also saved his life. And in doing so, had given up his own.

April 14th 1912

James had only been in bed for an hour when an unearthly screeching woke him up. It reminded him of running your nails across a chalkboard, but a thousand times louder.

“What the bloody hell was that?” Tommy sat up in his bed.

“I don’t know, but I don’t like it.” James got out of bed and fished his shoes from under his bed. “I’m going to investigate.”

“Give me a minute, lad. I’ll come with you.”

Once in the corridor, the only signs that something was amiss were the number of people who had got out of their warm beds. They stood around, discussing the possible source of the noise.

James and Tommy ignored them and made their way out to the deck. What they saw made their knees shake.

A giant iceberg floating only a few hundred meters from the Titanic. As they watched, the ship increased the distance between it and the iceberg.

“We must have hit the iceberg.” Tommy’s voice was flat.

“But surely we’ll be ok. They said this ship is unsinkable.” The resignation in Tommy’s voice alarmed James.

“Don’t be fooled, lad. I spent ten years in the navy and I can tell you no ship is unsinkable.”

“But what are we going to do?” Rising panic made James want to scream and run. It was only the calmness of his mentor that helped him keep his head.

“We are going to help as many people to get off this boat as we can.” He rolled up a cigarette. “But first, I will enjoy this cigarette.”

They fell into silence.

April 15th 1994

“Thank you all for coming.” James cleared his throat as words stuck on his tongue. Over the years, he had delivered countless speeches at the memorial event, but it never got easier.

Each time he recounted the events of the night when the unsinkable sunk, the pain came back as raw as it had been eighty years ago when he first realised he had survived.

The weight of surviving as heavy as ever knowing he had lived while Tommy had gone down with the ship.

April 15th 1912

The silence shattered when the deck burst to life brimming with desperation.

Members of the crew hastened to lower lifeboats and ordered women and children to line up first.

“Time to help.” Tommy threw his roll up away and headed towards a lifeboat. He began lifting children into the boat, and James followed his example.

One by one they filled the boats, but the deck remained just as crowded as when they started.

“Are there any more boats?” James whispered to Tommy who just shook his head. “But not everyone is going to fit. What do we do?”

“We do what we must.” Tommy’s answer was short and blunt as they watched another boat lowered down to the freezing water below. He placed his hand on James’ shoulder. “You’ll be fine. I promise”.

April 15th 1994

You’ll. Be. Fine.

James had not realised the meaning of the words until later.

You, not we.

It was only days, maybe even weeks later, when he had understood. Tommy had known both of them would not survive. And he had decided it would be James who’d survive.

Would James have done anything differently had he realised Tommy’s plan? Maybe not. Admitting that had been tough and increased his guilt for surviving.

“I, and the other 704 survivors, owe our lives to those who didn’t make it.”

He paused. The audience waited in silence as he fought to control his emotions.

April 15th 1912

They were rapidly running out of lifeboats and the scramble to get on one got more frantic. People were pushing, begging, crying.

The air was thick with children’s cries when their parents passed them onto strangers on the boats when spaces ran out. Of husbands kissing goodbye to their families knowing it was unlikely they’d ever see each other again.

James and Tommy still kept helping people boat after boat. Until they reached the last one on their side of the ship.

“It’s time for you to get on.” Tommy turned to James.

When James did not react, Tommy pushed him into the boat, which was ready to be lowered. He shoved a leather parcel into James’ hands.

“Take this. It’s my savings. Take it and start a bookshop in New York.”

It was only at that moment James realised Tommy was not coming with him. He tried to scramble out of the boat and back to the deck, but the lifeboat was already too far down.

“Jump.” He screamed at the older man. Tears ran down his face, blurring the features of his benefactor.

“I’m staying to help. I’m old and I’ve had a good life. But you still have your life ahead of you. Just promise you’ll make the most of it.”

“I will.” James had shouted through tears up towards the man to whom he owed everything. He kept looking until Tommy’s face melted into the darkness.

April 15th 1994

James looked at the audience, waiting for him to continue.

“Let me tell you about Tommy. A brave and generous man who saved my life eighty years ago. I owe everything I have to that man. But he didn’t just save me once eighty years ago. He saved me again and again when I went through dark times plagued by nightmares in my sleep and survivors’ guilt during the waking hours.”

He paused, gazed for a moment at his shaking hands covered in age spots. Prayed for the strength to continue. He held up his hands.

“So many times, these hands came close to taking my life. Survivors’ guilt is a bastard. The weight of the guilt and the memories can drive you into dark places. In those dark places, it was only the promise I made to Tommy that kept me from pulling the trigger. I couldn’t dishonour the man who had saved me and set me up in life by taking it away with my own hands.”

“Years later, my wife made me to see a counsellor. It was only then I learnt I suffered from depression linked to PTSD. It was when I sought help, I realised we need to talk about mental health. That was when the idea for the Tommy Davies Foundation for Mental Health was born.”

“The question of why I survived has never left me. I still feel the weight of surviving from the moment I wake up. But it no longer has the power to pull me into those dark places. Because I now know the answer. I had to bear the weight to live a life of purpose and shed light on mental health.”

"I thank you Tommy Davies, my guardian angel, for saving my life and showing me a way to use the weight of surviving to create something positive from a legacy of a disaster."