A Son of the Rock

Abacus, 2012, 222 p. First published 1996.

I wasn’t at all sure about picking this up, still less reading it, because its ostensible subject matter – the sinking of the Titanic – is such well-worn ground. Any misgivings were soon assuaged however as the quality of Bainbridge’s writing is apparent from the start. Moreover, the voyage and the sinking are almost incidental to the plot which focuses – as do all the best novels – on human relationships. The book also incidentally acts as a portrait of the lifestyle and relatively vacuous activities of the moneyed classes who occupied the Titanic’s first class cabins and salons.

Narrator J Pierrepoint Morgan has an interesting past – his mother married someone of whom her family disapproved and she was estranged from them. His parents both soon died and he spent some time in an orphanage before being plucked from there and brought up by his aunt. He also has connections with the Titanic’s shipbuilders and so worked for a while in the drawing office at Harland and Wolff.

We meet him in London a few days before the ship’s departure when he witnesses the death of a man in Manchester Square and shortly thereafter removes a portrait of his mother – by Cézanne no less – from his cousin’s house. The dead man we later learn is connected to others of the ship’s passengers. Also prior to boarding Morgan comes across a man named Scurra. On the ship he falls for the attractions of a woman called Wallis Ellery, and encounters Rosenfelder, a dress designer anxious to have Adele Baines (travelling separately in steerage to allay suspicions of collusion) show off his creations in a bid to secure a contract to supply stage costumes in New York. Luminaries are mostly in the background but occasional appearances are given to naval architect (and Titanic’s designer) Thomas Andrews, plus White Star Line chairman Brian Ismay. The former died while the latter famously survived the sinking.

Scurra is the fulcrum of the book. In some respects a mysterious figure his function is ultimately to provide Morgan with a measure of world-weariness, at one point telling him that, terms of dealing with women, it’s, “Every man for himself.” Morgan’s relative innocence is underlined by his informing us that, “Later I was to remember that moment; I had mistaken a part for the whole.”

On the vagaries of love we have the declaration that, “‘When a woman declares she has made no demands you can be sure she believes she’s owed something,’” on the importance of circumstance, “There is no way of knowing how one will react to danger until faced with it. Nor can we know what capacity we have for nobility and self-sacrifice unless something happens to rouse such conceits into activity.” When the crisis comes Morgan acquits himself well.

The book is well researched, the descriptions of the ship’s state rooms and interiors ring true and a visit to the boiler room allows the details of the engines’ capacity to be dropped unobtrusively into the ongoing scene. (This is how information dumping ought to be done.) Recurring mention is made of a fire in number 10 coal bunker – due to inadequate hosing down of the coal – which may potentially have weakened the cast iron of the ship’s hull but no-one is at all alarmed and in any case most likely made no difference to the ship’s fate. The references some of the characters make to the speed of the ship’s progress and possible breaking of the transatlantic crossing record would have been a genuine point of interest. That they are qualified at one point by the phrase “barring accidents,” is no more than what is likely to have been said on board at least once (the ship’s “unsinkable” tag notwithstanding.) The well-documented inadequacies of the provision of lifeboats and the organisational chaos attending the sinking are dealt with matter-of-factly and not overplayed. In the writing hindsight is not given any part.

Every Man for Himself is excellent stuff, if overall slightly lacking in conveying emotion.

Pedant’s corner:- “Time interval” later count – about ten. (I didn’t start counting till after I’d noticed a few.) Othewise; Mr Andrews’ (x 2, Andrews’s,) Fenwicks (was possessive, so ‘Fenwick’s’,) Miss Baines’ (Baines’s,) Thucydides’ account (Thucydides’s.)