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 awakened some time later by a knock on the cabin door. It was firm and precise - exactly two raps. She called out for whomever it was to enter, but her voice was still so weak she wasn't sure she was heard.
A moment's hesitation, and then the door opened.
Her eyes widened in shock, and she sat up in bed with a start. She couldn't believe what she was seeing. Second Officer Lightoller stood framed in the light seeping in from the doorway. He looked very different from those last terrible moments on the boat deck. She had never seen him without a cap before, and she noticed that his hair was sandy and thinning slightly. He wore a thick dark blue sweater and grey trousers, likely borrowed from some passenger on the Carpathia.
"Mr. Lightoller! You're alive!" she exclaimed, astonishment and something like joy coloring her voice at the sight of the senior officer. Equally as unexpected was the cheery nod he gave her in return, as if he were as delighted to see her as she was to see him. "How... how did you make it off the ship?" she blurted, awestruck. Then she remembered her manners. "Come in, please, come in," she said, beckoning to him.
He closed the door partway, leaving it slightly ajar, and crossed the room in long strides to stand beside her bed. He smiled and raised his hand, as if to ask for her patience. "All in good time, Miss Donnelly. But first - how are you?" His face radiated sincere concern, she noted with some surprise.
She gestured to her body. "I am alive," she said. "For now, that is enough. The doctor says I should regain my entire range of movement, and there seems to be no permanent damage. I'm very lucky," she admitted, her voice trailing off into nothing as she thought about the hundreds who weren't, who had suffered and perished while they still lived.
The memory of that night washed over both of them, and in that moment it felt like the entire sea of the dead was between them once again. She couldn't speak for a long moment.
Lightoller, too, paused, his expression haunted. After a time, he said quietly, "I heard you were able to survive in that waterlogged collapsible - the one that Mr. Lowe picked up."
"Yes. I was... in pretty bad shape at the time, but Harry was able to revive me. I'm told it was just in the nick of time, though. My lungs had stopped..." She paused, struggling, unable to go on. "I don't remember that part, anyway." She gave a choked laugh, waving her hand as if trying to dismiss the ordeal altogether. "I woke up here, in this bed, and that's all I know."
Lightoller had been staring off into the distance and nodding along with her words, and despite his aloof appearance, she could tell that he was listening carefully. But when she finished, he glanced down at her and fidgeted with the hem of his sweater, looking uncomfortable for the first time. "I suppose all this could have been avoided if I had just held that boat a little longer," he said casually.
