Harold Lowe has managed to claw his way up the career ladder of the British merchant marines, rising from a ship's boy to a master mariner with one of the world's elite passenger lines. Along the way, he's learned to master not only his craft, but...
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Corrine was still sobbing when she felt a hand shaking her right shoulder.
"Miss Donnelly, you have to get up now," said a familiar voice. She wiped her tear-filled eyes and peered up through her curtain of hair to see Lightoller looking down at her. "Come, you must find another boat, and soon. I fear you are almost out of time."
The sympathy in his eyes almost brought her to tears all over again. She knew that he had witnessed the dramatic parting scene with Harry, and from his gentle demeanor, even in the face of such great urgency, he must have realized that his warnings a few days prior had fallen on deaf ears. She only hoped he realized now that he had been wrong about Harry, too.
Dazed, she sat up and looked around. The deck, which had been packed with passengers and crew just a few minutes ago, was now almost entirely empty, at least in the vicinity of the lifeboat davits. She saw that in addition to Harry's boat, 14, the other two boats nearby, 12 and 16, had left as well, and number 10 was being lowered as she watched. She didn't see any more boats left on the port side of the boat deck.
"Miss Donnelly," Lightoller said again, more insistent this time.
She nodded at him to show she had heard. "I'll be along directly," she croaked, her voice still broken from sobbing.
He looked skeptical, but nodded. A crewmember's head appeared at the bottom of the crew stairs. "Mr. Lightoller!" he shouted. "They need you for number 4, sir - now!"
He hesitated, and she could see that he was reluctant to leave her alone. She waved him off weakly, and he finally acquiesced. "I have a boat to load from A deck. I will make sure you have a place in it. Now hurry, please." And he flew down the steps, hard on the heels of the other crewmember.
Slowly, she climbed to her feet. At least the noise from the rockets had finally stopped. But the deck was even more unsteady under her feet than it had been before. She could definitely feel a downward slant to it, tipping her toward the bow. Still in a state of shock, in no particular hurry, and curious, she made her way in that direction. Lightoller's pleas to head to A deck had already been forgotten.
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Esther Hart was impressed. One hundred fifty feet away from the giant liner, Officer Lowe was tying their boat up to numbers 10 and 12. It had taken about ten minutes for him to pull himself together after the boat left the Titanic, during which the occupants sat silently, watching the ship founder and wonder what was to become of them. She supposed he had needed that time to compose himself. There had apparently been a girl... some drama during the lifeboat launch... and she gathered by his reaction that the young officer had some feelings for this girl. Tragic, yes, but many women on the boat had also left loved ones behind, Esther included. Now was not the time to mourn; now it was time to survive. He must have come to the same conclusion, because after a time his competence won over his grief. He bade the rowers to lay on the oars and began scrabbling in the bottom of the boat. No one knew quite what he was about until he produced a mast and sail, which he began assembling with obvious familiarity. Once that task was complete, he hallooed to a nearby boat that had been launched around the same time as theirs. He ordered the boat to his, and while that one was rowing toward them, he hailed another. Soon he had a mini flotilla arranged in the open sea. "Consider yourselves all under my command," he ordered gruffly, and set about rearranging crewmembers and passengers to maximize efficiency and comfort in the boats. Esther held tight to her little girl, reassured that she was in the best possible hands. The young officer's manner might be abrupt, and a bit rough, but his authority, his obvious knowledge of boats and the sea, comforted her immensely. And although he was completely absorbed in the work, she saw the naked anguish in his gaze every time he looked back at the ship...
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Corrine found herself wandering aimlessly, with no destination in mind. At some point, she crossed over to the starboard side, but had no memory of doing so. The ship was listing to port now, and people were beginning to move past her in the opposite direction, to the stern. So she had a clear view of the bow, where crewmembers were still struggling to load two lifeboats into the davits.
Those must be the collapsibles Harry mentioned on our boat deck tour, she thought absently. Seeing no other lifeboats in the area, she stood by passively and watched the men winch the starboard boat into place.
Suddenly, from out of nowhere, a group of men rushed the boat. The crewmembers, cursing and shouting, beat them back, but there were too many - and their fear had made them desperate. A few leaped into the boat, but they were quickly thrown out by two well-dressed men, who had materialized from the crowd to help the crew. Someone fired a gun twice, and she covered her ears, remembering Harry's previous warning shots. But it had the desired effect, and the crowd quieted. Some of the crew then began rounding up women and children, while the rest maintained order around the boat.
An officer - the same one who had tried to put her in the lifeboat earlier, she noted with detachment - appeared at her side and bustled her toward the boat. She didn't resist, and she was soon escorted over the bulwark rail and into the small collapsible. It was already nearly filled, mostly with women and children, although a few men were occupying seats as well. She sat down gratefully next to a weeping woman wearing only a nightgown and an overcoat carelessly thrown over her shoulders. Corrine was exhausted from her emotional and physical ordeal. Her left arm still throbbed from Thomas's brutal assault, but she was grateful that she had been able to fulfill Harry's request at least - she had indeed found a place in another boat.
She looked past the officers loading the boat to the dimly-lit deck beyond. A commotion about twenty feet away caught her eye. It was a woman in a headscarf with two small children clinging tightly to her skirts. She was gesturing wildly, but the crewmember nearest her was either ignoring her, or couldn't understand what she was saying. Desperate, she pulled on his arm, but he brushed her off and strode toward the boat.
The woman locked eyes with Corrine, and the hopelessness and dread in her face awoke Corrine at last from her fugue state. She stood up and waved her arm, trying to catch the attention of the officer in front of her, but he was looking elsewhere. She looked back at the family, and saw the smallest boy - he must have been only around four or five - start to cry and tug on his mother. Oh, his dear little face - he reminded her of her neighbor's oldest son, back in Southampton...
She would never be able to live with herself if she sat there and did nothing, knowing that this family would be left here to drown. Corrine tried once more to signal, to tell the men to wait, but the officers were barking orders, preparing the boat for lowering - and her fellow passengers were beginning to grumble angrily, motioning for her to sit down.
She had only seconds to do something - anything - to save this family.
And so for the second time that night, Corrine found herself leaping out of the source of her salvation and into an uncertain future.
She hit the deck and pushed through the wall of men, spun on her heel, and shouted, "One more! Hold for one more!" She reached the woman, who was cradling her youngest boy, and grabbed her by the arm. "I don't know if you can understand me," she said as slowly and calmly as she could, "but I am going to get you into that boat. All right?"
The woman stared at her uncomprehendingly, but nodded anyway. She meekly allowed Corrine to push her and her older son back through the crowd.
The sad-faced officer was already calling for the boat to be lowered when she returned with the woman and her children. The woman was quickly swung aboard, child still nestled in her arms, and Corrine heaved the other boy over to her as well. They huddled in the bow of the boat, the mother kissing her children's heads. She looked at Corrine, tears in her eyes, and nodded - the only way she could convey her gratitude.
As the boat was dropping from the level of the deck, she realized belatedly that she should be on it. She stepped up, one foot on the rail, prepared to grab the rope with her good arm and swing herself into her previous seat before it was too late.
But the shock she felt next eclipsed everything else she had experienced, even on this unbelievable, awful night.
Sitting in her seat was the man that had hounded her at her uncle's store so many months ago. They stared at one another, shock and recognition dawning simultaneously.
Her mouth agape, she watched J. Bruce Ismay, Managing Director of the White Star Line, descend in the last lifeboat.
