Every Man for Himself (by Beryl Bainbridge- 1996)

They had been gone no more than ten minutes- Ginsberg had ordered a whisky and Charlie and I had
just won three tricks in succession-when suddenly the room juddered; the lights flickered and
Ginsberg’s cigarette case, which sat at his elbow, jolted to the floor. It was the sound accompanying
the juddering that startled us, along drawn-out tearing like a vast length of calico slowly ripping part.
Melchett said, ‘We’re in collision with another ship,’ and with that we threw down our cards, rash to
the doors, sprinted through the Palm Court and out onto the deck. A voice called, ‘We’ve bumped an
iceberg—there it goes’ but though I peered into the darkness I could see nothing. Prem somewhere
forward we heard laughter, voices excitedly shouting. Coming to the starboard rail I looked down on
to the wall of the third class recreation area; there were chunks of ice spilling and sliding in every
direction, all shapes and sizes, glittering under the light of the foremast. Steerage passengers, most
in their ragged night-clothes, were chucking it at each other as though playing snowballs. Hopper
raced off to go down there and join in the fun. Charlie and I found it too cold to linger and hurried
back indoors. A dozen or so men had poured out of the smoking room and were milling about the
foyer, pestering the stewards for information. Astor was there, still dressed but without his tie,
leaning down to shout into the ear of Seefax who had been woken from sleep in the library and now
sat on the staircase with his stick raised like a weapon. Everyone had a different explanation for
whatever it was that had jarred the ship; Ginsberg swore we had lost a propeller, but what did he
know?

We couldn’t resume our game until Hopper returned, which he did quite soon, triumphantly carrying
a lump of ice in his handkerchief. He thrust it under my nose and it smelt rank, a bit like a silver
rotten mackerel. He dropped it into Ginsberg’s whisky when the poor devil wasn’t looking. We must
have played for another ten minutes, by which time Hopper said he’d had enough. Remembering
Andrew’s injunction that I should read while others slept, I decided to spend an hour in the library. I
was crossing the foyer when the man himself swept past on his way to the stairs. I didn’t think he’d
seen me but he said quiet distinctly. ‘Follow me. You may be needed.’